Law School Girl

by bluepervina - © 2002

( FM, ws, anal, exhib )

My girlfriend in law school had a game she liked to play. I loved her, so I played along. Here's how it went.

We'd go back into her room, even if her roommate was home, and she'd close and lock the door. We'd eat chocolate popsicles. She loved it best when they were chocolate Jell-o Pudding Pops, which took longer to melt, and she'd lick it all away with her eyes dreamily closed.

When we finished with the popsicles, she'd take off all of her clothes and we'd play "doctor".

Usually all this consisted of was, simply, me sliding a popsicle stick into her butt.

She'd usually leave it hanging out about an inch and put all of her clothes back on, go back out into the kitchen, get another popsicle for us, then come back. Eventually, she'd strip again, and I'd get to slowly pull the popsicle stick out and replace it with a fresh cool one. Sometimes we'd put all the popsicle sticks in her butt, sometimes only the one at a time. It really depended on how "sick" she felt, and on how much "special medicine" the doctor had to give her.

She'd say, "This is soooo bad for me," if we ate too many (spoil dinner, you know), so eventually we'd leave at least one popsicle stick still hanging an inch out of her butt, and we'd go out back to continue her "treatment". Behind her neighborhood was a large undeveloped pine forest, owned by the university. Only rarely were the Forestry students anywhere near that side of the forest, so it was pretty safe to go out there and play.

My girlfriend would get us far enough into the forest to be hidden from "perverts' eyes", and she'd strip again. I would stay fully-clothed. She would then squat or kneel or get down like a dog, and I'd pull and push that last popsicle stick in and out of her butt.

The whole adventure always included a running commentary from her about how it felt, how she felt. She always played her role to the hilt.

"Doctor, when you wiggle it like that, it tickles me in my tummy."

"I want to tinkle sometimes when you put it there, Doctor. Is that bad?"

"Doctor, can you see if my boobies are sick, too?"

After playing on the pine straw like that for a while, she'd typically begin to complain more and more about having to pee, and she'd make me tell her to hold it; then I'd have to chase her as she ran naked around the trees, squealing when the pine cones hurt her feet, still in agony over her bladder.

Invariably, as she got close to the end of her game, and she was one huge raw nerve.

The popsicle stick usually fell out when she ran around, and most of the time she spent several minutes smelling it and making me smell it. Covered in pine straw chaff and other tiny bits of miscellaneous forest, the slender smooth wood still held a powerful sweet odor, and a nice glistening sheen. It was almost never really "dirty", either, but if it was, it was. She played the game anyway, and so did I.

Eventually, we'd carefully wipe it off on some clothing and stick it back in her butt, because she liked to pee with it in.

Now complaining non-stop, she'd squat naked over the pine straw and spurt and hold, spurt and hold, saying "Can you see it, Doctor? Is my peepee too smelly?" and stuff like that....

Often she held her hands down and caught it in little pools in her cupped palms, and together we would smell it up close. Always, she would drink one handful of pee. She'd rock back onto her haunches, her crotch still dripping a little, and she'd swallow slowly. Then she'd smile. And, even looking right at me, she was seeing another pleasure, somewhere far away in her mind. I never really got around to asking her about it, but it must have been nice.

Eventually, still hurting from a mostly full bladder, and she'd get to her feet and stand in front of a tree. Pushing her pelvis out and spreading her labia, she'd somehow pee straight out ahead of herself all over the base of the tree. She was barefoot, of course, and she'd complain about how wet and muddy her feet got by the time she finished.

Frequently, before she got dressed, I was asked—as the "Doctor", of course—to feel her pussy with my fingers to make sure it wasn't too wet. She called her pussy her "teetee", and I would just press my hand on it and wiggle a finger against the length of her groove. Sometimes she would finger her butt after my teetee inspection, and then we'd spend awhile smelling her finger and confirming that her bottom was "OK".

The final test, of course, was done using my dick. She would get dressed all the way. Even her pissed-on muddied feet would go back into socks, back into shoes. She'd stand up and happily chirp, "Thanks, Doctor!" But then, turning away, she'd pause and frown. A little finger would go up to her now-trembling lower lip, and she'd look back at me uncertainly.

"Doctor, are you REALLY sure you checked me good enough? Maybe there's another medicine you could give me?" And she'd just stand there, mock pigeon-toed, knocking her knees together and chewing on the tip of her finger. I'd have to come up to her and undo her pants myself. Without any more words, her pants would go down around her ankles, and I'd push her down gently onto her hands and knees.

She would open her hands in front of her on the ground, palms up, as if she was still cupping her pee. As I released my cock—finally!—and go into position over her up-raised ass, she invariably lowered her face into her palms and began to moan.

Pulling her panties halfway down her thighs, I'd mount her. Obviously, her ass was very ready to be fucked. Slippery, pink, puckering open, her butt easily sucked me right in. Crouched over her in the woods, as cave-man as I could get, I'd grab her hips in my clutching fingers and pound my cock deep into her ass. She responded nearly every time with louder and louder squeals, muffled in her piss-stained hands. Her ass would thrust back at me with more and more strength, and eventually she'd raise her face and begin to yelp at me in great gulps of breath, "Fuck—harder—Doctor—Mmmph!—God—Oh!—Please!—"

And I'd come enough for a week, deep inside her sweet butt, while she rocked through her orgasm, tears in her eyes.

Putting her clothes back together, she'd go all shy and nervous on me. We'd share a chaste little kiss, then lightly hold hands as we picked our way back through the woods to the house. We wouldn't talk. She would look at me every so often with sheepish sideways glance, sometimes touching her temple to my shoulder as we walked.

We wouldn't ever mention it directly during "normal" times. It was never a topic for discussion that I wanted to bring up, to be sure. All I knew was, I got to fuck her ass. I could put up with almost anything for that; and, really, her "game" was one I actually liked to play. She would inevitably bring me a popsicle one late afternoon on some other day, and we'd go do it all over again.

As for the popsicle sticks, she kept them all in a Tupperware box in her freezer. I didn't ask.

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