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Inspired by Jethro Tull's song "Hunting Girl."

.. I had felt her bare back under the dress. I could see skin all the way from her collarbones to her waist when she bent forward to sit in the chair she had just moved. She was silent for maybe thirty seconds with her left hand inside her dress caressing her right nipple. The silent pauses between us were a special part of the relationship. We both had learned to accept them without the need to compulsively say something to fill the silence. "You sure got undressed fast. You anxious to find out what's on the menu today?" she commented. An impish smile played across her face for a few seconds. She pointed to a spot on the floor by her left hip. I moved to the place she indicated.

"I'm told this is easier to do if you're a bit firm," she said as she reached out and pulled on the head of my penis. The pulling and squeezing was quite pleasant and I began to swell. "I suppose I could have had you do this. There, that's about right I think," she said patting my half- hard penis.

From the table she took the end of a piece of clear plastic tubing, uncapped a tube of KY jelly and smeared the first foot of the tubing with the lubricant. Several loops of the tubing lay on the table and the other end was attached to a clear plastic bag--the kind your see hanging from a stand in hospital rooms--IV solutions. "I'm gonna stick this up your dick and fill you up till you're doing the dance of discomfort," she said brightly.

As always, the individual who was dressed had the psychological advantage over the other person. I watched with frozen fascination as she held the head of my penis between the thumb and forefinger of one hand and slowly made the end of the tube disappear into the eye. "I've been told the insertion is not painful and can even be enjoyable," she said evenly.

I had stopped breathing. When she heard me breathe she ask, "Hurt?"

"No," I breathed. She continued to invade me slowly. "I've never been touched there before," I said with a quiver in my voice.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yes, I think I do," I said as I felt a more intense sensation deep within my groin. "Ahhhggg," came from my throat.

"What? Tell me what you feel," she insisted.

"Like I'm about to come," I replied describing the burning urgency deep inside of me.

"Gooooood" she crooned as she forced three more inches of tube through my half erect penis. I was afraid to move. "I'm in," she announced. "The end just went past your prostate and into your bladder. Just like they said, there was some extra resistance to overcome just before insertion was complete." She was slowly stroking the head of my penis almost like a mother attending a small child who had just had to endure some unpleasant procedure. Then she reached out and released the spring clip that pinched the tube closed. "You want a beer while you're filling up?" she asked as she squeezed the bulging bag sending a surge of liquid into my bladder.

I told her that would be very nice. She returned from the kitchen with a cold can of beer in one hand and a bottled wine cooler in the other. She handed me the beer and picked up the bag of liquid. "Let's go out onto the patio," she said. "Hold the tube in place with your other hand and I'll carry the bag."

I walked slowly like a semi-invalid. She walked beside me with her wine cooler in one hand and the bag of liquid and several coils of tubing in the other. She was putting pressure on the bag as we walked. "Sometimes you're a really sneaky bitch," I told her gazing at the bag in her hand.

"Yeah, ain't it grrrreat," she said, squeezing the bag even harder, sending another surge of liquid into me. By the time we got to the two chase lounges on the patio I had a strong urge to urinate. But I knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. And the bag was still half full.

The chase lounges were side by side but facing in opposite directions. The setup reminded me of the time we lay head to foot on my bed masturbating together, handcuffed left hand to left hand.

Hanging above the lounges were two cords tied to the patio bea

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