#345) That Place Between

I am in that place between fast asleep and wide awake. It is an undefined, indistinct place to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s uncomfortable. I enjoy it here.
My lover knows this. He knows me, knows my proclivities and preferences, and on this particular morning, he wants to maximize all my feelings in this uncharted territory, this in-between realm.
“Roll over,” he says, brandishing what he has in hand like weapons to subdue me. This submissive eagerly complies, even in that gray fog, when I see what he has, what’s in-store.
As I watch over my shoulder, John opens the big jar of Vaseline, takes the old school glass tube of a thermometer and gouges its tip into the petroleum jelly. He puts the jar down to show me the big gob of goo on the end of the thermometer. He uses the side of that hand and his dexterous other one to part my buttocks. I have a big bum. John parts them wide with both hands, to reveal my little anus deep within the valley of fleshiness, in that place between my cheekiness.
John touches the slick tip of the thermometer to my anus. He smears the Vaseline around the tight little orifice, rimming me. I am very anal-erotic, I love being touched here. Being a gagger growing up, I always had my temperature taken in this way. I grew used to strange men and women, doctors and nurses, bundle me over their laps, part my bared buttocks, and do this to me. It was medically-sanctioned sexuality/voyeurism. I tried to hide the fact that I found it arousing. They watched as I tried to keep from touching myself. I would usually ball my hands into tense fists, and place one between my tightly-pressed thighs, right up against my labia, as my rectum was penetrated. This whole history comes flooding back to mind as John puts the lubricated tube up my butt.
“May I masturbate?” I gasp.
“No, you naughty thing… at least, not yet…” he admonishes. “That might elevate your temperature. Just hold still…”
I can barely do this, I find it so incredibly delicious to be manipulated in this sensitive place between by buttocks, in this sublime place between dreams and consciousness.
John pushes the thermometer in and withdraws it part way, driving me insane, over and over again. This playfulness probably increases my temperature due to the friction involved, but I don’t say anything, except the little murmurs and moans that escape my mouth.
Besides being very anal-erotic, I am also very anal-compulsive. I keep my rectum clean, clean as a whistle, in case my lover ever wants to put his mouth to me there. But I’ve been asleep for eight hours. I might have involuntarily cut a fart during that long duration. I might not be as pristine as I prefer up my pooper. A thought occurs to me as John rims and reams me. What if the thermometer comes out less than clean? I would be mortified! So I exist in a heightened state between erotic excitement and deep dread as he plays there.
As I said, John knows me. He plays on my fears. Not only does he read the thermometer, once he determines that it’s been in there long enough. He inspects it closely, he sniffs it deeply. I can’t look.
He pulls a Kleenex from the box, puts the gooey thermometer on the Kleenex tissue on the pillow before my face. My thoughts turn to how my rectum must be as gooey as that glass rod. John parts me again, makes a big production of parting me wide, then touches my anus with just one fingertip. It seems that his fingertip was designed for just this special purpose. The pad of his fingertip is soft, his trimmed fingernail is hard edged, the combination of those two sensations thrills me. He plays at the portal of my backdoor with just that one fingertip for a long while. My fists are balled up again. I feel like a tightly wound spring.
“You may masturbate now,” he allows.
One hand parts my labia, the fingers of the other attack my clitoris. His middle finger pushes up my rectum. I climax hard, setting off a series of orgasms. I’m no longer in the nether-world. I’m scaling mountain peaks, in rarified air that makes me breathe hard, working hard, exerting myself, sweating profusely.
John knows that my titties become super sensitive at this time.
“Pull and pinch your nipples,” he tells me, and I spread my juices on them and tweak them, as he spells me with his free hand in my pussy. One finger slides into my sex, as his other slips out of my rectum, in and out, back and forth. Along with my nipple-play, I’m higher than I ever have been. Cumming and climbing higher, and cumming some more, and… And I become aware of the glowing inch of me between vagina and anus, my perineum. So from this stratosphere, I’m again dealing with that in-between place, that magical divide, that Bridge of Sighs.

5 responses to “#345) That Place Between”

  1. This blog is a mirror, reflecting my true self; it’s a looking glass, a window into me, even a magnifying glass emphasizing my private secrets. This is me. I mean it when I say that my entire backside is an erogenous zone, the cheekiness of my round butt, the sensitive valley between these two hillocks, my rosebud blooming in this deep crevice, and the flesh separation between these and my actual sex organ, my perineum. I just played there this morning, both the set of fingers masturbating my pussy and the set of fingers playing (to the point of rape) up my anus crossed this divinely erotic divide. It is so much more than just a barrier between my two orifices; it is a part of my sexuality. Here is my verbal tribute to that incredible inch; enjoy!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. That is a great way to start your day. Waking up to a slowly built up orgasm fest orchestrated by someone who not only cares about you but knows your body and what it likes gives the term “Good morning” an entirely new meaning.

    Because of your blog I get a good morning as well. You know what your readers like and you give us heaping helpings of it. It’s a great start to my day and I REALLY appreciate you for it.
    Another great post from you and a great blessing to me.
    Thanx bunches!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I happen to think this is marvelous! I’m proud to write in a way that appeals to you, Christian! I think orgasms are the nicest thing a person can give another, even if long-distance! I’ll say more about this later in the week. For now, thank you for the tribute, and you are welcome for “the boner and the groaner.”

      Liked by 1 person

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