Educating Laura: Anal Time

This is a stand-alone story about Richie and Laura from the Educating Laura series. It takes place a few days after the end of Educating Laura Ch.6.

Laura's college mate Richie, a guy generally assumed to be an arrogant dickhead, became a close friend with benefits over the summer.

They also become close to Andy and Ali who worked at the summer camp Laura volunteered at, and Laura's been enjoying exploring all sorts of sexual things like threesomes and bondage. But not, so far, anal sex. She's returned to college; Richie is spending the last three weeks of vacation working in London, staying with Ali and Andy. There's some references to BDSM having happened, but no real BDSM in this story beyond discussion of roles.

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Richie summed up his weekend when Ali quizzed him: "Went and visited Laura's place. I said, I'd like to try anal with her sometime. She says, 'go on'.

"I told her, she's never had anything bigger than a finger there, so my cock is hardly one she'd want to start with! But then, right, she pulls out this big butt plug and goes, all innocent, 'But I've taken this...?'

"She took me, too. She's lots of fun, Laura is. We'll have to do it again, some time."

For Richie, it was a long speech.

Laura could describe the same weekend with much, much, more detail. Interested in her version? Read on.

***

I'd dozed on the train, got the bus back to college, acquired my keys from the genial porter. All college porters were hired for two skills: being sage uncle-type figures for students to spill their woes to, and their ability to deter or intervene in fights. Most were retired military; some had been ex-wrestlers before taking up their bowler hats.

"Good to have you back, young Laura. You pop in and say hello to us each day, you hear?" Checking I'd be all right during the three weeks before most students returned.

I plodded down the road to my new house. We'd tacitly agreed I'd have a top floor room, next to my friend Sanj, with a shower-room to ourselves. The lads would have the three rooms below. I was thankful for the college cleaner who would keep their bathroom in a state where I could enjoy a bath. I'd lay money that Gavin and the others would never clean toilets voluntarily.

Having unpacked my rucksack and placed my new plant on the windowsill, I hit Sainsbury's to stock up on food. I nodded at some grad students I recognised, decanted my haul in the kitchen, then headed out. At the Materials Science department I bought previous exam papers, a photocopying card and my new book list, before repeating myself in the Chemistry building.

I found two books matching forthcoming lectures, so tried making notes in the common room next to the library. I was happily distracted at four o'clock when students and staff invaded, enticed by cake and coffee.

Around six, I left, having skimmed the newspapers and the amusing back page of New Scientist for the last half hour. Back in my new home, alone, I cooked a mound of roasted veg and made a thick tomato pasta sauce. I wasn't vegetarian, just that was the easiest way to be cheap and avoid food poisoning. While it simmered, I phoned Andy and Ali, truthfully reassuring them I wasn't lonely -- though equally when they suggested visiting in three weeks' time, I was enthusiastic.

I unpacked my boxes I'd left in storage, then twiddled my thumbs.

No telly. Gavin said he'd bring one.

Didn't feel like reading.

I chose to have a luxurious hot bath. The tub was old, Victorian; broad and deep. Chipped enamel, but wonderful to float in if you shut your eyes and no-one else had been using up the hot water.

I relaxed in aquatic bliss. I'd missed a good soak, over the summer. I could and did take time conditioning my long hair, exfoliating, depilating, shaving -- all the grooming I hadn't had facilities for during the last three months, living in a field.

And I could try my new toys, which I'd bought from that sex shop the day before.

I'd been readily persuaded to buy two toys. One vibrator with spokes to stop it sliding inside, its controls on the end of a long cable. And a more substantial butt plug, about the size of a cock, in circumference. Condoms I had in abundance, given societies' desperation to give them away, but I'd agreed a bottle of lubricant would be needed. The cute lass in the shop had easily convinced me me to upsize. The concept of a pint of lube amused me.

Some years earlier, a hot bath had helped me relax enough to slide a tampon in for the first time. It might also work for the anal plug.

Hair turbanned in a towel, pyjamas on, I lowered my pyjama trousers. I caught sight of my arse in the bathroom mirror, and gasped. It was mostly purple-pink smears on my white skin, now, as Tuesday's bruising faded. Various marks, faint lines showing red, betrayed an implement. Some yellow, mild bruises, round the sides. Nearly all gone, already.

Would I be sad to have these visible reminders all go? Yes.

It was hard to remember that my month of sexual discovery and new sexual 'family' was real, not just fantasy.

At least Richie was turning up on the weekend. By Saturday morning, he'd promised. He'd warned Friday might be cancelled if experiments worked and needed documentation.

Or if the train or coach were too expensive. It looked like Rich valued my company at around fifteen pounds. The guy's frank honesty, which he had never learnt to hide, amused me.

My bare bottom exposed, the rest of me decently under wraps, those butterflies in my guts swarmed, warning I was being horribly sexual.

Nudity is sort of wholesome, whatever your intentions. The naffness of Health & Efficiency, the nudist magazine, made that clear. Even the biggest prude couldn't object to anyone actually having a naked body. But covering up, then deliberately exposing sexual parts... that's much filthier.

I briefly wondered what Adam and Eve had got up to after covering up with fig leaves. The first ever strip-tease, the invention of eroticism... I toasted them mentally, before recalling they hadn't existed. The elastic of my pants and PJs dug into my thighs, reminding me my arse was out in the open, uncovered.

I snapped a flavoured condom onto the transparent Perspex plug. Might as well use up the ones I'd never want for sex. Apart from never using rubbers for blow-jobs -- pointless for both parties, I was sure, and luckily medical advice now concurred -- I'd never liked fake fruit flavours. The strawberry condom, red to match, made the plug look like an obscene prick, bulging in the middle.

I managed to open the lube bottle, caught the first big glob which came out, and applied it to my arsehole. It was sticky and a bit cold.

Next, I slathered lube over the plug. A large greased-up double-ended cone, widening to a rectangular base under the red rubber frill. I took a deep breath. Then I pressed the rounded smooth point onto its destination.

I made use of biology lessons, opening my sphincter to let it in. I got the thing to slide forward about an inch.

No further.

I wobbled it about a bit, my sore buttocks and still-swollen labia feeling the movements. It was rather fun, if not satisfying.

So naughty.

I added more lube, tried my hardest to open up.

It didn't work. It didn't go any further than Richie's finger had.

Ah, well. Ali and the shop lass had both warned me it would take practice.

However, that new vibrator, allegedly for anal use, was a real treat. It entertained me for the evening instead. Easy to hold it resting over my clit, a dial to ramp sensation up and down. Beautiful.

I stopped counting after I'd come half a dozen times, allowing my body a few more small orgasms.

I recalled how much fun Ali had been, in bed with me earlier in the week. And at other times, Andy and Richie. Not to mention the lot of them together. The memories would fuel my imagination for years.

On Thursday, I decided the Chemistry common room was more comfortable than the Materials one, so I settled in before 9am, to match some of the prescribed reading list to potential exam questions, scanning the list for a target. Adrian had recommended that: start with the commonest questions, then work back to the key elements of the syllabus. At eleven I took a break, joining various postgrads and researchers for coffee and a bun.

By one, though, I needed a book from the Materials library, so I bought sandwich and crisps from the guy who, it transpired, still materialised in the building entrance each day even outside term-time, his smaller pile of home-made sandwiches still all wrapped by hand in clingfilm. I wandered, munching, back towards the Engineering site.

I found the offending book, bought another coffee, and began to curse my way through a problem. The principles seemed to make sense, but not the numbers.

I gave up. I read a newspaper instead, then some articles in Nature and industry journals. Then I started reading papers on novel types of plastics, which kept me going for a few hours. A chap in his twenties gave me the nod as I left for the evening. Had he seen me the previous day? I had no idea.

I called Ali as I ate my dinner. She assured me that Richie was definitely looking forward to seeing me on the weekend, as much as anyone could ever be sure of his feelings. She was oddly quiet on what she'd been up to. She passed the phone over to Andy.

What Andy told me, chortling, was, "Ali challenged me and Rich to eat her out, for as long as possible. We shook hands, he nodded, and we done it, swapping places every few minutes. Kept going for a good hour!" Apart from that, Richie still wasn't getting any, so yes, he definitely would be looking forward to seeing me!

I approved of Richie getting more practice in such matters. Once they hung up, I resolved not to do any more work. I played with that new butt plug again, instead.

It was a fun sensation, after all, even with just the tip of the cone inside. Once the others moved into the house, I'd be too self-conscious to make loud groans in the bathroom.

'More lube than you can imagine,' Ali had advised. I gave one last push, bearing down.

Suddenly, the thing popped in. It was as if my arse had swallowed it, the Perspex sinking deep inside me in one great slurp.

"Oh, ye gods!"

I'd never felt so... well, penetrated...

Gingerly, I stood up.

The plug fucked me as I moved. Totally rigid, yet smooth. Similar to, yet different from, a cock. In my arse.

I loved it.

I lifted one knee, then the other.

The rounded end of the plug pushed deeper inside. Hard, rhythmical.

So good.

I didn't want to remove it. I pulled my pyjamas back up and wandered downstairs, loving how the inflexible plastic prodded great spots in my arse as I stepped down every stair.

I'd read stories about people plugging themselves up, then going shopping or whatever, getting off on their little secret. I'd never really believed them, nor seen the attraction. Now, however, I could well understand it. But I didn't want to go out the house with something up my bum. That whole 'risk of getting caught' kink wasn't mine -- especially after that time being set up by Rich with Andy watching!

But I could go upstairs and test how having a stuffed arsehole felt when I played with myself. So I did.

Hours of masturbation, two nights in a row, using sex toys? Pretty damn kinky.

What the hell. It's just what happens when a girl gets used to sex, then has to go without, isn't it? And no telly! What else could I do?

I suddenly got hit by inspiration for solving one of the chemistry problems. No reason to remove the plug just for that.

Working on science, while aroused at the same time? That felt even kinkier.

It was possibly Richie's default mode. I'd certainly accuse him of it, when I saw him next.

On the other hand, anything that got me studying more had to be a good thing, right?

I fell asleep, still with that hard plug in my arse. If it got uncomfortable, I'd wake up, I figured.

Turned out, I felt thoroughly rested and even eager to go back to work the next morning -- after I'd pushed out the plug. Enough of a good thing , my arsehole felt, the lube having mostly vanished during my sleep. I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in the silent kitchen. Once Sanj and the lads came back, it would never be this quiet!

Back in the Chemistry library's common room, I settled down with a coffee and another exam question. Drinks weren't allowed in the library itself.

By the time the crowd came for elevenses, I'd made some progress but was cursing my restricted experience of maths. I let out an annoyed huff and went to queue for a restorative bun and more caffeine.

"Work not going so well?" It was the dark-haired chap who'd noticed me the previous day.

"Some is, some isn't. Trying some exam questions..."

"Undergrad?"

I nodded. He must be a PhD student.

"Plenty of time, still. You were in the Materials library yesterday afternoon, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Cool. I really should be in the Materials department, but my supervisor's lab is here, so I swear I spend half my life trotting over there to speak to people or find papers..."

"What's your research on?"

I should have realised, that's a chat-up line for any postgrad; I doubted he was old enough to be a postdoc. He gave me the two-sentence version, plus another couple sentences when I didn't run away.

"Cool," I said, not being able to make any more intelligent comment.

"Intermittently, yes. When you've got yet another meaningless result, not so much! No, let me get this -- it's only 20p a cup! I need to sit down with my supervisors and plan what to try next. Oh, hi, Maggie!"

"Oh, it's you, Dominic." Maggie was about forty, clearly the matriarch technician whom everyone went to with problems. I ended up chatting to her and Dominic for half an hour. When she left, morose over her workload, Dominic asked if I'd like him to look at the offending question.

I did.

He furrowed his brow, trying to be tactful. "It's prediction of equilibrium constants?" I squirmed, feeling my stupidity. "It's fairly straightforward second-year stuff. Don't you remember?"

In relief, I told him. "Well, no. Seeing as what I haven't done second year yet."

"What? Oh! Shit, in that case... Blimey, you've aced this first part, then. Right. How it works, right, this energy is divided..."

I got the general gist, I thought.

"But seriously, love, why are you working so hard in the hols if you're only approaching second year?"

"I haven't been! Not until yesterday. But for... reasons, I've had to come back to college early, nowhere's going to employ me for only two, three weeks, might as well get ahead with work as much as possible."

"You want a bit of work? Paid, I mean?"

"I would. Why?"

"Not promising anything, mind, but come with me. Find Maggie again. One reason she was so grumpy is, the junior technician's just been fired. Chris the apprentice is off on holiday for the next two weeks, cos we made him promise to come back before all the undergrads invade again... Sorry, no insult intended!"

"None taken. Sure."

Dom steered me into Maggie's domain, the prep room between two large labs. "Mags? You were after another pair of hands?"

A long but constructive discussion ensued. We agreed I'd turn up each day, do glass-washing, fetching and carrying, and in between I'd get to hang out in the lab, get a bit of experience of higher-level lab work, people to chat to, help with my studies, and get a few quid -- 'beer money' -- as well as people buying me lunch and coffees. All cash-in-hand, probably involving the lab head making dodgy expenses claims to cover the costs. Not my problem.

By the end of the afternoon, my head span with names, safety rules, and chemical equilibrium equations. The lab head had lectured that course recently, so pointed me at exercises from a maths textbook. I had space at a side bench to sit and work, with intermittent calls of "Laura! Could you empty the washing tray, please?" "Hey, Laura? Could you track down another condenser like this? Martin Eng's lab on the third floor should have some. Actually, get two." "Laura, let me show you where to find..." "Laura, can you go order six teas, two coffees, whatever you have, see you down there in a mo, keep the change."

Then we went down the pub. I tore myself away after a few, promising to return on Monday. The team were very grateful. Win-win: they got a dogsbody to keep everything functioning, I got both experience and a place to be. The money was a mere bonus, though I'd need it in due course.

Once back across town, home, I was sober again. And tonight -- maybe -- I'd get Richie!

I ate the last of my chili, then nipped to the off-licence for wine and a carton of ice-cream. Might as well enjoy having both fridge and freezer to myself! That's what I told myself, trying to fend off loneliness.

Then at 10pm, a text from Richie: 'Setting off now. Don't wait up.'

He'd forgotten I wasn't in halls, now. No doubt the porters had keys, but they wouldn't let him into someone else's house!

'I'll have to let you in, divot.'

'Ah. Should I wait till tomorrow?'

'No! I may doze in the front room -- hammer on the window if I don't hear the doorbell.'

'If you're sure. It'll be after midnight.'

'I'll cope. Travel safe.'

I picked up my new book. I'd splashed out on the latest Terry Pratchett paperback, and sprawled along the sofa with my Häagen-Dazs and a spoon.

Half-way through the book, I snuggled up with the cushions and closed my eyes.

Until I was jarred awake. The doorbell was being pressed repeatedly. I opened the door, recognising the distorted shape through the spyhole. Richie nodded at me and walked in.

"All right, Rich?"

"Yeah." He looked around. "You're right, this is like Andy's place, only better maintained."

"Lovely to see you, too."

Startled, Richie shuffled awkwardly, then decided to give me a hug, like how I'd taught him, a month earlier.

"That's better. Though it's me, remember -- a bit of indecent groping is allowed."

I should have known I'd be squashed as he gripped tightly, one hand on my arse. I squeaked when it got a bit much, both from needing a breath, and from my bum still being sore from where he and Ali had had at it on Tuesday.

He let me drop. My compressed lungs reinflated.

"What now?" he asked.

"Bed. D'you want a drink to take up?"

He found himself a glass of water, and followed me up the stairs.

"I stole the mattress from the room next door, for you. Seeing as no-one else is in the house for another three weeks or so."

"The attic? Huh." He looked round. "Looks kinda like Andy's bedsit, only with more space.'

It hadn't occurred to me when I chose the room, but I probably did associate attics with happiness, now.

Richie spoke again. "So, what's driving you right now? You want to get fucked, or want to be obedient, or just want to go to sleep?" Getting to the nub of things, as was so characteristic of the guy.

"What I want... Well, doesn't matter. I need sleep. It's been a long day." I'd tell him about my new job in the morning.

"OK. Just answer the question. What would you want if you weren't too tired?"

I thought. "Good, obedient girls get off eventually, right? I'd like that, but not until after breakfast."

"Priorities. Good boundaries. I like that. See you in the morning."

Richie rolled over and went to sleep. None of this kissing or anything that might suggest we were anything other than friends. Friends drawn close by mutual instincts. Family, we'd all decided, after that final night camping. Well, I'd never choose the git as a boyfriend, for sure.

I woke up when Richie returned from a shower, bollock-naked and drying his long hair with a towel. It had reached mid-back length; he must have been letting his hair grow out during sixth-form, not just since leaving like several of the lads. I watched without moving, mostly at how his balls and substantial cock moved as he rubbed his head dry.