Miss Anderson's IBS

"Ooooooh," she cooed as she felt the cool ointment drip onto her anus. She concentrated on relaxing her sphincter. She didn't want to fight the medicine. But, she instinctively clenched her sphincter when she felt the salesman work it into her curly skin with the tip of his finger.

"Just relax, Miss Anderson. I do want to make sure that you get a comprehensive and thorough application."

"Yes sir," Betsy meekly replied, but it was so difficult as it felt so very, very intrusive.

"My gracious!" she squealed as she felt the salesman's thick finger suddenly force it's way up inside. Her face jerked from the pillow, a stunned look on her face.

"Almost done, Miss Anderson, almost done. I need to make sure that some of it gets within the interior lips of the anus. Must be thorough, you know." He smiled as he felt the woman clench tightly on his finger with her sphincter. It was like she was hugging him with all her might, although he knew that it was instead a fruitlessly belated effort to deny him entry.

"Okay," Betsy meekly acquiesced, but she questioned whether he really had to work his finger around and around within her rectum. Nobody had ever stuck a finger up there before, not even herself. She felt so embarrassed, if not appalled.

But, it did feel kind of nice as well. It felt so wrong, yet so stimulating, so exciting. Her squeezing of his finger was shifting away from protest and more toward embracement.

The salesman though suddenly removed his finger, making a loud popping sound. It didn't sound like a fart but making any noise with one's butt hole was rather embarrassing. "Sorry," Betsy apologized, another wave of blood rushing to her face.

The salesman again patted her bottom for reassurance. "It's a very natural response. Now, let's see how well this ointment works for her," referring to her asshole as if it was a girl.

Betsy sighed deeply with relief. The intrusive probing had ended, and now the medicine would begin to work. She felt she sorely needed it as her anus had never felt so excited before.

The salesman used both hands now to spread open her cheeks. He studied the woman's butt hole as he waited for its reaction.

"Please don't look at it, sir," Betsy pleaded.

"It's fine, perfectly fine, Miss Anderson. I'm sure you'll appreciate it."

"I hope so, sir," she responded. She waited for the tingling, the tickling, to stop, to dissipate and then disappear altogether. It would be so, so nice to find relief.

But, suddenly the sensations escalated dramatically. The medicine was having an effect opposite to what she had expected! Her anus was not calming, it was becoming even more intensely aroused. She was reminded of a shampoo she had once used. She thought at first that she might be having an allergic reaction, until she read the bottle afterward and noticed that it was supposed to be "refreshing" and "invigorating." "Oh my goodness," she softly exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, you can feel it?"

The sensations escalated further. It was like every little nerve was sparkling and tingling with excitement. "I think there's something wrong, sir, " she gasped. "It feels even worse!"

"Worse? You don't feel anything?"

"Feel anything? My goodness, it's like it's on fire!" Betsy couldn't help but to repeatedly squeeze her sphincter, her bottom wiggling and squirming, trying to put out the fire, sparkling flames burning every anal nerve ending until it felt like her asshole was engulfed by some erotic fire.

"Well, yes, of course, perfect," the salesman calmly replied.

She turned her face back to him. "That's what it's supposed to do?!"

"Of course, of course." He softly caressed her wiggling bottom. "Very, very potent ointment. I have an even stronger one, if you wish."

"But I wanted you to make it stop tingling!"

"Of course, of course, but first we need to really get it fired up so that you'll appreciate when the fire is quenched."

"Well, put it out now, goodness gracious!" She felt such a strong urge to stick her finger up her ass to try to put it out herself, rubbing her finger around and around to clean up the offending ointment, but she could hardly do that in front of him.

"Absolutely, ma'am. I think you'll really love this." He reached into his case to retrieve one of the plastic objects. It was oblong in shape, very smoothly rounded on the tip, about six inches in length. He slipped it off it's cuff and guided it to Betsy's butt hole. "Hold still."

Betsy was reminded of when her mother was trying to put some antibiotic on a scrape on her elbow. She just couldn't hold it still, feeling so bad and anticipating the worst.

The salesman wrapped his left arm around her waist and firmly held Betsy's bottom still as he abruptly and rather impolitely jammed the plastic butt dildo up into Miss Anderson's asshole.

"Oh my gosh!" Betsy exclaimed, her lovely round green eyes now as wide as they could possibly be. What the heck was he doing? What had he stuck up her butt?! Had he really stuck something up her butt? Well, quite obviously he had, and she was totally dumfounded. "Sir, Mr. Stagliano, John, please, what have you done?"

"Just relax, Miss Anderson," he replied, as he began to softly, slowly, slide the dildo in and out of her butt. "You will soon find relief. Remain calm."

Remain calm? She was far from calm. She buried her face in both her hands and the pillow, trying to block out of her mind that a strange man had stuck some plastic thing up her ass, and was now in fact slowly squirming it around and around as he slid it in and out of her rectum, fucking her so terribly inflamed asshole with it. This was just so wrong, so offensive, so dirty, so filthy. She pleaded, "Please, sir, enough, I think we're done. I'm fine. You can stop."

"Yes, yes, just a bit longer. I think it's coming along," he said in a calming, soothing voice, as he continued to butt fuck her with the little woman's helper with one hand, fondling and caressing her cheeks with the other.

Betsy stopped struggling, hoping against hope that he was correct, feeling so mortified, so shamed, so inflamed.

And then warmth, even heat, began to develop elsewhere. It was like the fire was spreading, down past her asshole to her more uniquely feminine part, her cunnie. "Oh my gracious," Betsy softly exclaimed into her hands, wondering what was happening to her, but clearly knowing. She was become now very, very excited, sexually excited, and he wasn't even touching any one of her sexual parts. He was instead just working a smooth plastic device in and out of her rectum, her anus tingling with fiery sparks, her cunnie swelling, moistening, beginning to burn as well.

She removed her hands from her face to slip her right hand down back beneath her body, back to her cunnie. She had such an irresistible urge, actually need, to touch, to caress, to forcibly rub her clit.

She certainly could not ask him to do it, and she so hoped that he would not see, would not notice, her doing it, but once her fingers made contact with her now equally inflamed nub she couldn't care less what he saw. She just had to have relief and she ground her fingers round and round against her clit as he did likewise with his butt fucking plastic dildo.

"Oh my goodness," Betsy gasped as she felt her orgasm suddenly sweep over her body.

She woke up, gasping and panting, her body wracked in the throws of her engulfing climax, her body writhing and squirming on the bed, her cunnie leaking feminine juices as if she had in fact wet herself. Betsy tightly squeezed her thighs shut, trying desperately to shut down, to turn off, the escaping flood of her orgasm, so embarrassed and ashamed over the content, the reality, of her dream. How could that have happened? How could she dream such a thing? Yet, the dream had clearly occurred, and her reaction was just so shameful, yet it was impossible not to enjoy the fully engulfing waves of her climax coursing through her body.

When it was done she lay in her bed, her face again buried in a pillow, but this time for real. She felt so confused, so distraught. She felt like getting up and having a drink, something to calm her mind, erase from her memory what had just happened. It was just so wrong, so weird.

It took a good deal of time for her to fall back asleep, so worried that she would again be stricken by another such dream.

When she awoke the next morning though she felt better. It was a new day. Yesterday had been such a strange and disturbing day, but each new day brings new promises, new hopes, a new beginning. She even felt a bit refreshed, revitalized, despite the fact that she had actually slept less than she usually had due to that horrifically disgusting nightmare. She shivered as she thought about it. But, still, she did feel reinvigorated, perhaps now rid of that embarrassing itch. The fire had been put out. It now barely scratched even the surface of her mind.

It was indeed all behind her, so to speak. She even managed to chuckle about it. It had indeed been a very odd period of time, but today was a brand new day.

She smiled as she felt the water of the shower spraying against her face. She always enjoyed that part of the morning.

She washed her hands, her arms, her feet and legs, her face, her breasts. When she got to soaping her bottom Betsy was reminded of the moisturizing lotion she had applied there before she went to bed. She now realized that it was probably the lotion that had caused the dream. That actually made good sense, and it would make even more sense to thoroughly wash it off. She slid the bar of soap down into the crack of her bottom. She felt a little apprehensive about doing that, although she would always, of course, wash herself there anyway and even had a much greater reason to do so now.

She should, of course, be sure to thoroughly clean her anus. 'A clean anus is a happy anus,' she giggled to herself. She rubbed and rubbed the slippery bar of soap against her little butt hole, sighing deeply with satisfaction at the knowledge that she was getting it all so thoroughly, completely vanilla fresh.

Yes, washing her anus was surprisingly so, so pleasurable. It just felt so good to get it all so perfectly squeaky clean.

It didn't feel like she was doing anything wrong, anything dirty. After all, she was cleaning herself, washing herself, in fact washing and cleaning very thoroughly her most dirtiest spot. Her mother would most certainly feel good about that. And, it was really so nice to be enjoying it so much!

She even started applying her finger tips directly to her anus. You really can't do a good cleansing unless you get your fingers directly into the job and work the soap suds in. She whimpered softly as her finger tips made first contact. It was a little startling and unnerving. It was such a weird place to touch herself, yet it felt so titillating, so arousing, so exciting. She carefully worked the soapy lather all over and around her puckered little butt hole, making sure that it was all very good and clean, all the while giggling as the warm, cleansing shower splashed across her face and shoulders. She had probably never before enjoyed more her morning shower.

She squatted down, got her finger all covered with suds and soap, and then slipped it right inside. She surprised herself. She had done it. She had actually done it. She had stuck her finger up her butt. But, it wasn't anything sexual, of course. She just figured she should be sure to get it clean inside as well. Some of the lotion had probably worked its way in there. She had to be sure that she got it all spic and span, so clean that a young man could eat off of it. Well, that was probably going a bit too far.

She worked her finger around and around within her rectum. It felt so funny inside, and her sphincter clung so tightly to her finger, like it was trying to hold it tightly in after trying so hard to keep it out. She sighed with deep satisfaction and pleasure. This just felt so good.

She brought her other hand to her soft, squishy little breast and squeezed it, at the same time flicking her thumb against her erect nipple. Her nipples always became erect when she took a shower, but they seemed especially stiff and cheerful this morning. "Mmmmmm," she softly moaned as the shower spray continued to rain down upon her.

She shifted her hand from her nipple to her clit as she tried to stick her finger as far up her butt as possible. She was no longer deluding herself into thinking that she was just washing herself. She was instead fucking herself, fucking herself up the butt. It was most certainly a very shameful and perhaps despicable act, but there was still some consolation that it was being done within the cleansing spray of her shower, within the bathroom, where dirty, filthy acts occur and can be absolved.

She fell onto her back within the tub, her legs splayed out, the spray now hitting her across her breasts, tickling and tingling her boobs, some even making direct hits on her sensitive nipples, as she frenetically diddled her clit with the fingers of her left hand as the finger of her right screwed itself all the way up into her butt, being able to go no further but exploring around deep inside like a little curious snake.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my," she gasped with each breath and wiggle of her finger. It was just so, so fucking good and her body suddenly trembled, her pussy squirted, and her sphincter crushed her finger. She was now getting her relief, her release, and she gave herself fully over to her orgasm. It was a most perverse way to cum, but once cumming it just felt so good, so right, so wonderful. She hooked her finger in her rectum to maximum the feel of its presence, pressing it against the back side of her cunt, as it shuddered with her climax, perhaps wondering itself what was going on, why it was her backside that had received all of the attention, yet itself climaxing, quivering, on an empty chamber.

"Oh please, oh please, oh please," she gasped, her finger and thumb clenching and pinching her nub, sliding down deeper into the tub, the shower now bathing her face, her mouth opening wide, imagining that it was cum raining down upon her face, a very appropriately debasing and denigrating bathing for such an obscenely perverse act.

When the climax passed she just lay there for awhile, catching her breath, slowly regaining her composure, still feeling her finger deeply lodged up her rectum.

She eventually, slowly, carefully withdrew her finger, whimpering as she gradually slid it from her sphincter, perhaps now only becoming fully conscious of how deeply it had been lodged. Once fully removed she retrieved the bar of soap, averting her eyes from her finger, imagining that it must be covered with a disgusting filth. She very thoroughly washed it, and not only once, but twice, and then a third time, and even then feeling reluctant to include that finger in the subsequent washing of her hair.

It had been intensely enjoyable, relieving, satisfying, and fulfilling, but now that the climactic orgasm had passed she was faced once again with her more natural feelings of guilt and shame. She had masturbated, and in a most dirty, despicable, disgusting fashion.

She finished her shower and tried to forget what she had just done, vowing to never do it again. She was though relieved to find that there was no "episodes" all through the morning. She was again feeling better about herself, and her chances for the future.. 'Thank goodness that was over,' she thought. So many times in her life she had suffered an illness, as all people do, and so often she couldn't help but wonder when she would recover, imagining if this was it, if this horrible state would be her perpetual future, that it would never end. What would life be like then? Could she tolerate it? Could she go on? But, invariably, so far at least, the illness did end. 'This too shall pass,' was her mantra whenever she became sick, whenever she suffered significant injury or setback. And, once again, that had proven to be true.

There was a smile on her face as she crossed the campus in the early afternoon, on the way to her class, to provide her first lecture on South American tribes. Her day of work was almost done.

But, she then saw Robert Duffs heading to her class as well. It was only from a distance, but that short body, slight frame, and tousled hair, were clearly recognizable, and as she paused to watch him quickly stride across the commons, as if he was trying to get away from something. She was again stricken with a tingling deep down within her cheeks, within her anus. Her problem had resurfaced.

"Oh no," she softly whimpered. She glanced around for something, or perhaps even someone, that might help her. She backed up against a tree, and then subtly shuddered as it made contact with her rump. She shifted to another tree, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She had to find the right one, a relatively younger sapling, not so thick that it wouldn't fit within the crack of her ass, but not so young that she would just push it over. She shoved her butt hard up against her eventual choice, driving it in between her butt cheeks, squeezing hard with her sphincter, trying so hard to drive the sensation from her body as she drove her asshole against the tree. She even bent over a bit, not so much that it looked too obvious but enough perhaps to get her anus right against the rough, scratchy bark, her long flowing hair falling away from her body, hiding her flustered, agitated face. But, as soon as contact was made, once she obtained a bit of relief, she realized that her position and her movements, were a bit unusual, perhaps even disturbing and, besides, she did have a class to teach.

Her lecture that day was quite difficult. She could not look Robert in the eye, for each time she did she felt another tickling itch within her butt hole, as if she was being bit right on the anus by a mosquito, perhaps even by a bee, causing her at times to squirm or twitch.

Of course, she couldn't just reach down and slip her hand under her skirt and give herself a scratch, at least not while she was lecturing her students. She did again try repeatedly squeezing and clenching her sphincter. That did help a bit, but not for long. The itchy tingling would just return a few minutes later.

She even backed her backside into the corner of her desk, and sat down back against it, forcing the sharp corner deep into her crack, trying to look casually disinterested and indifferent, not wanting the students to notice that she was in fact trying to scratch, to rub, her asshole against the corner of her desk, but it wouldn't work. She just couldn't get the corner deep enough inside her crack, the dress perhaps being too tight, the fabric too thick. In order to really be able to relieve herself that way she would have to bend way over and jam her ass back hard against the desk corner, and that would most certainly be a bit disconcerting to the students.

In fact, sitting back against the corner of her desk only seemed to exacerbate the problem, as if she was just flirting with but never receiving a good anal scratch and rub, just tickling her anus rather than giving it a good polish and grind.

By the time class was over she was a squirming, wriggling mess. It probably looked to many of the students that she had ants in her underpants, or more likely that she just had to go to the bathroom really, really bad.

Miss Anderson knew that she had to do something. She could not go through another evening, another night, nor another afternoon, like she just had. She had to seek help and she vowed to do so immediately.

She decided to seek medical treatment. The medical profession had to have something for her condition, wouldn't it? Nobody has something wrong with them that hasn't happened before. Our bodies are not that unique. They must have seen something like this before. It would be a bit embarrassing, of course. Anytime she sought treatment for a vaginal condition she felt rather embarrassed. It was the exceptional woman who wasn't the least bit self-conscious about it, and this could be even worse.