“I cleaned myself out before we came here . . . this is nothing . . . unhh . . .” In fact it hurts a little but Patty is not about to show it. Inch by inch disappears as her toes squirm and her breasts shake. She shifts by millimeters up and down, allowing the natural lubrication of her rectum to slick up the intrusion. She shivers with little thrills. After maybe thirty seconds her bare butt meets the table.
She stands up and with a surprised gasp almost falls forward, her knees shaking, eyes bugged out. “Jesus!!”
The adults watch silently, the men trying to control the erections in their expensive suit pants as a waft of female musk washes over everyone. Patty, on all fours, her head down, tries to catch her breath.
“Oh God . . .” Patty says, panting, sweating. “You guys know what you’re doing! I almost f**king came just now!”
Dr. Posen says, “Patty, you can -- finish if you want.”
Patty shakes her head. She does not give out her orgasms for free. Even when her friend Terrence wanted her to scream for his rap CD, she made him cough up twenty dollars first.
“Somebody -- take this -- out,” she grunts.
She turns her butt toward Dr. Posen, who has much familiarity with removing things from Patty’s lower digestive tract. The doctor grasps the flange at the end. It is an old familiar dance for the two of them, she pulls, Patty inhales, she pulls, Patty inhales. Finally the shaft leaves the gaping anus and bounces onto the table, slick with the teenager’s colorless secretions. The fragrance of the girl’s recent strawberry enema fills the room.
Patty’s face turns to the side. The Stephen Hopkins Faculty Tower is a traditional place, with an actual clock in each conference room. “It’s -- three -- thirty. I have to get back for the kids.” She looks to Dr. Posen, who gave her the ride here.
“Are you o.k.?”
“Yes -- I just -- need -- ice for my clit. I have to cool down.”
“There’s a refrigerator in the lounge next door,” Ms. William says.