It had just fascinating pictures, especially in the B&D area that was my particular excitement at the time.It had just fascinating pictures, especially in the B&D area that was my particular excitement at the time. The ads seemed like fun. One of these showed a guy whose area of interest was in spankings, enemas, and Greek things about which I had many secret thoughts but not much real experience. I decided that I would answer this particular ad, not intending ever to meet this guy, but rather, just to hear what he had to say. A week or so later, I got a letter from him, with a nude picture. His name was Tom. He was a divorcee. He was about 35, well built, well hung, too. And he was holding a leather paddle in his hand and hanging from the ceiling next to him was a large enema bag, a long rubber hose attached to it, and connected to the end of that, a black rubber looking device that got inserted into the recipient of this enema, and really did the work. It looked like a huge, erect, black penis. Believe me, it was an impressive picture. His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how he thought that there was no sight so beautiful as a naked, shapely, female bottom, and nothing he liked to do so much as to pet it, to kiss it... and to spank it until it was rosy pink. Then, when she was fully ready and receptive, to give her a long, slow, deep enema, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before, using, of course, so that she could not expel it until permitted. And then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it generously until it was slippery, and then to fuck it deeply and firmly. His letter excited me tremendously. He became an instantaneous member in my library of fantasies. I wrote back to him, he replied again, and this time, included a telephone number. I stared at that for a long time. I knew that calling the number was taking a very serious step, that there was at least a chance that I would follow up and visit him at, as he described it, his Domination Laboratory. I did call the number. When he replied, his voice was much as I expected it to be, and the conversation also was about what I had expected. We agreed to meet, not at his place, but on neutral ground, at a certain coffee shop, nothing else promised but the meeting. |