But of course I came right about then, so I didn't get to explore as much as I would have liked. Oh well next time. Maybe.Anal play wasn't a thing for...me yet at that young age. Just once in a while, and then never very seriously - that initial uncomfortable feeling would turn me off every time. But a few days later I was reading and chilling and thought about masturbating, and the "fulfilled" feeling came to mind, so I decided to try again.This time I got some lube and the dildo and went into. I had signed up at a local art studio for free art lessons, and thisbeing the first day, of course I had slept in. Bus was late, and thecrowded streets, full of slow shuffling pedestrians was not helping atall in my effort to be on time.Finally getting to the small corner shop, I pushed open the door, to thesound of small chimes hanging above the entranceway.Shaking the water droplets off, I raised my head and looked about. Therewere six people sitting at easels, all looking back towards. And her clitoris. Not yet unpeeled from the hood. But a slight show of wetness on her labia. She wouldn’t be aware of that yet, despite the 6 hours or so that have passed.?Of course. The silence and isolation will have had yet more effect on her. Its six hours since she saw me. And before that she was alone in the waiting room, for a further thirty six hours before I re-appeared. During this time, stripped of her personal belongings, then her clothing. All in the cause of research of course!. "Fourteen." "Fifteen." "Sixteen." "Seventeen." "Eighteen." These all on one specific spot on her right cheek. One one-thousand, as she counted, two one-thousand, she quickly compared, three one-thousand, the number of strokes per side, four one-thousand, would there be one more, five… And there was. "Nineteen." Back to the left and slightly lower. "Twenty." Lower again. "Twenty One." Lower still. "Twenty Two." Slightly to the outside. "Twenty Three." Higher now. "Twenty Four." Again higher..