Guest Post – Alternative Pleasure ~ I am going to introduce this fascinating guest post from my friend Toolie. He has guested on my site before.
Introduction From May
Toolie is going to tell a true story – Alternative Pleasure – about an interesting time in his life. When briefly his journey found him involved with a medical type kink. So, here is the content warning, if medical equipment and such like offend you in any way, don’t carry on. I must say, once I started to read I could not stop. A very compelling tale. Over to Toolie… May More
Introduction From Toolie
This is a story about a very particular kink. It’s not a kink that gets written about all that often, although I’ve no doubt it’s a ‘thing’. In fact I’m sure if I were to do a little detective work I’d find a whole community out there, just quietly enjoying themselves. To be honest though, I’ve never been overly keen on the ‘kink’ word. I prefer to think of it simply as an alternative pleasure.
If sex were music, then the ‘Alternative Pleasures’ would be a gorgeous little Indie band. Playing their intense, visceral sounds in sweaty, dark little underground clubs. Probably in Berlin. Their sound wouldn’t trouble the top 40. Or be played on mainstream radio. But those in the know would understand that they had found a band that spoke to them and their lives like no other…
Anyway, before I strangle this metaphor to death, let me get on with the story. But first, a little context. I met the girl in question at a house party. Looking back, this time of my life was something of a golden period, and the house party was a particular highlight. But enough said, maybe that’s a story for another time.
An Alternative Pleasure by Toolie
I’m really not sure how parties like this were arranged before the internet back in these pre-computer days. No computers or mobile phones, no social media to keep us all in touch 24/7. This was a couple of months after Uni and my little band of mates had dispersed around the country. New lives were in the process of being formed. New jobs and friends, new beginnings. I had no idea where most of them had got to, other than a vague comprehension that one had ended up in Manchester. Two or three were in London. The rest spread between Bristol, Leeds, and Oxford. While one was exiled to Wales.
I suppose someone had gone to the trouble of getting some invites printed and posted them out to last known addresses. Probably the family home. Maybe they were then forwarded.
However it happened, I found myself at the door of a large, rambling house on the outskirts of Oxford. I remember I’d read a note sellotaped to the door telling me which pub everyone was in and was about to head off when the front door opened, and there she was… I knew my two mates were sharing a house with three others. Later I found out the others were all student nurses.
Her name was (probably still is) Cathy. If she was surprised to find a stranger standing on her doorstep, she hid it very well.
Un-phased she simply said, “hi, you’re here for the party I guess.”
And then set off for the pub with me in tow. I can still remember what she was wearing; a canary yellow patterned summer dress, mid-thigh length, very flattering …and a pale blue denim jacket, lovely shapely legs, nicely tanned from a long hot summer and, as I discovered on the walk to the pub, two weeks island hopping in Greece.
I’ll miss out the party,. It’s not really relevant to this story. Although I will say that Cathy wasn’t the first girl I slept with at the party that night. She wasn’t even the second. How we ended up together after I’d slept with two of her friends will always be a bit of a mystery.
We’d been seeing each other for a couple of months and it was all going rather well. Although we only got together maybe once a week, longer if her shift patterns at the hospital didn’t fit in, but it seemed to be working. We were both very open to anything, adventurous and enjoying not just the sex, but also the friendship. One evening – as we lay in her bed recovering – taking a smoke and a drink, Cathy started to tell me about her week.
She’d just started on the urology ward and one of her tasks was to remove the catheters from some of the male patients, mostly old men, but also a younger chap who had been paralysed from the waist down in a motorcycle accident. She’d also assisted in inserting the catheter and was very surprised to find just how aroused it made her. I hypothesised that it might be a control thing. But as she was used to being in control with patients she felt it was something else she was feeling. Confessing that after she’d inserted her first catheter she was so turned on she was sure her arousal must be obvious. Then, she’d had to visit the staff loo to pleasure herself, surprised at just how wet she was.
It wasn’t as if she fancied any of the men, most of whom were in their 80’s. But she noticed that one of the older chaps had started to thicken a little as she was handling him, which intrigued her. Rather than be embarrassed he proudly announced, with a big smile on his face, that it had been quite some time since he’d had – one of those. She confessed it had briefly crossed her mind to give the old boy a hand job!
This had got Cathy wondering if it was actually possible to become fully erect by a hand job or even to have an orgasm with a catheter fitted. And… finally… she’d wondered what would my cock look like with a catheter fitted!
It took me a while to realise she was being serious. Before… No, absolutely not! No way. You are joking? nuh uh…
Not – a – fucking – chance – in hell.
What can I say? Reader… she talked me into it.
This was not the ‘alternative pleasure’ I’d ever spent time considering I must admit, and it was two weeks before I saw her again. I’d almost forgotten about it, or at least hoped she had. The signs were pretty good, we’d gone out for a meal and a couple of beers without the subject being raised. Returning to the house we cuddled up on the sofa to watch a film before heading up to bed.
I was lying on the bed waiting for her to finish in the bathroom and I still suspected nothing. However, as the door opened and she returned to the bedroom, I realised she’d changed into her work uniform and was carrying a stainless steel tray.
Looking at the tray I was slightly worried at the array of medical apparatus and also startled at the sight of the silicon tube in its sealed, sanitised wrapper. Longer than I’d imagined and certainly thicker. Too thick, surely!
Of course, I started to protest. But she was in professional mode,
“Now don’t worry, Mr Longfellow this won’t take long and I’ll be very gentle with you.”
The role playing I felt comfortable with, the thought of what was about to happen, less so. The snap of latex as she popped on her gloves was very real however and a cold, but hopefully not hard reminder of what was to come.
She explained that first she was going to wash the head of my cock and then rub in some sterile anaesthetic lubricant which would numb it. Next she would apply the lubricant to the eye of my cock with a syringe. This would mean I’d not feel the tube as she started to insert it down my cock and into my bladder. Very matter of fact.
Flaccid is the word invented to describe me at this moment. It was the only part of my body that wasn’t tense however.
‘Finger me,’ wasn’t what I was expecting to hear at this moment. But I had to remember this wasn’t for me, this was about Cathy and her fantasy. So finger her I did, and yes, wet doesn’t come close, she was drenched. She then took my wrist in her hand. I thought she was going to check my pulse, but instead she lifted my hand to her mouth, sucking slowly on my fingers. I reached across to unbutton her tunic, but she slapped my hand away.
“Don’t me so naughty, Mr Longfellow, I’m a good girl and you don’t want me getting into trouble do you?… besides, I want my tits covered, I want them to rub against the inside of my clothing for the time being. But if you are a good boy and do as you are told, I’ll let you pinch them afterwards.
“Now put your hands by your side, close your eyes, take deep breaths and try and relax.”
Ordinarily having a beautiful woman massaging lubricant on to my cock whilst dressed in nothing but a nurses outfit would have me nice and thick, bouncing for a fuck. But the sight of the silicon pipe coiled up on the steel tray was proving to be an excellent dampener to my ardour.
The sound of the wrapper being ripped open didn’t exactly help matters. I could feel her hand on my limp cock, but nothing else. My eyes were tightly shut, but as I dared to open them, I could see, and now feel, as she slid the pipe slowly inside me. Looking up at her face she was a mask of concentration. Only the tell-tell sign of a reddening of her neck and chest gave away her arousal.
“There, that wasn’t too bad was it?”
The end of the pipe had a plastic tap fitted, to this tap she busied herself connecting another pipe and then finally a bag. The tap was about 6” from the head of my cock. I have to say I couldn’t see anything even vaguely erotic about my condition at this moment,
Cathy however, clearly could. She lifted her uniform, jiggling her hips so it was above her waist, taking my hand and guiding it to her cunt, gripping my wrist tight, she was lost in the pleasure of a slow fingering. Letting go she leant back, eyes tightly shut, mouth open, panting quietly, rhythmically … Her arousal was all the more obvious now. Erect nipples showing prominently through the starched white uniform, which she was now cupping and squeezing, before unbuttoning herself.
I noticed with some concern that I too was becoming aroused. A thickening was beginning. But any concerns I might have had about the tube inside my cock began to dissipate at the sight of her full tits spilling from her half unbuttoned tunic. Then they were completely dispelled as she leaned forward to run her tongue along my length and on to the tube itself. Sucking at the silicon before returning her tongue to my shaft. Taking my cock sideways in her mouth, her teeth playfully nibbling as she ran her mouth along my cock. Playing with me. Teasing me as she took her tits in both hands and squeezing them hard before offering them to my mouth to suck.
‘Bite me … hard.’
Taking her tits in both hands, I pinched and rolled her nipples hard, before sucking and biting.
I could feel something pushing up against the shiny head of my cock, and realised with some concern that the tap was now pressing firmly up against my swollen head. Not uncomfortable exactly, but worryingly, I could see how it would be painful should I lengthen much further.
Sensing my discomfort, Cathy bent to lick around my head at the point where the tube disappeared inside.
“More lubrication will help,” she said, before taking my balls in her hand and slowly wanking me as she licked the tube. Flicking her tongue around my shiny wet head. Despite my reservations about what might happen were I to explode with a tube inserted down my cock, it was impossible to resist. I’d reached the point of no return so gave myself over to the orgasm that had begun to rise up from the pit of my stomach – willing the shuddering pleasure to wash over me.
“Oh good boy, very well done,” she whispered. “Now let’s get that thing out of you and you can fuck me.’
It never happened again, it seems stealing expensive medical equipment was frowned upon. A few months later she got herself a transfer to Southampton, her home town. And although we continued to see each for a month or so, the relationship did eventually just fizzle out.
We didn’t stay in touch. I like to think she is now a senior nurse (ohhhh matron) still working in a hospital somewhere. And even as I type, some old chap is lying on his bed while an experienced nurse, with a glint in her eye, is ripping the sterile wrapping from a coiled and lubricated tube…
Header image from freepic.com