From: [email protected]
Subject: Nurse Jones tells all
From Nurse Jones,
I was wrong to say that Jay punishes me for frivolous reasons. When
Elf gets angry over his frivolous punishment, it has nothing to do
with what Jay does.
Jay doesn't punish me at all.
I'm more like an experimental animal that he plays with, with pleasure
as the objective, sometimes his pleasure, usually mine.
I like changing myself and being changed. I'm lucky that I can trust
Jay to change me in ways that I can live with/like/be turned on by.
I guess you can see a pattern, now that I think of it. Maybe its a
reaction to having to wear a uniform at work. I get pierced. Nine
times, now. I fiddle constantly with my makeup. My hair. I agree to do
The List. I even let Jay experiment with my mind. He is still doing
interesting things to me with hypnosis. I was caught by surprise by it
again yesterday, in fact. Which is the point of this post, BTW.
He had told me I was going to experience something interesting and
sexy yesterday evening, and that it would be a surprise. Not quite a
trick. I don't like practical jokes, and this wasn't, but it was sexy.
I'm reading "Jurassic Park" and he looked ahead in the book during the
previous night's hypnosis session and found a key phrase, one unique
to the book, that would trigger a response in me when I came to it. He
knows my habits and knew I would be cuddled up in bed after dinner
when I read that phrase.
I knew exactly what was happening to me the moment it started; I knew
that it was a posthypnotic suggestion, and I knew I was supposed to
know, but I didn't know exactly what I would be doing. I only knew
what I HAD to do next at each step. That I really wanted to. And I
couldn't stop. I really felt compelled to do what I did, and I tried
to stop. I also didn't really WANT to stop, but I tried anyway, and I
found I couldn't. I think if I had really really really wanted to
stop, I could have. I think.
Anyway, I started feeling really horny. I just got up, stripped off my
flannel nightie, and lit the candles in the bedroom. I went into the
living room, put Ravi Shankar on the stereo, came back, pulled the
blankets off the futon, and spread eagled myself in the middle of the
bed. From that second on, I couldn't move, except to speak. I just
stretched myself out and suddenly I couldn't move my arms or legs or
head, or anything, in fact, but my hips and my biiiiig mouth. And I
felt this compulsion to tell Jay everything that was going on in my
head. I WANTED to tell him everything. I couldn't complain, I couldn't
even ask him any questions: I just gushed forth with this near-
continuous narrative of what was going on inside yours truly.
I told him I couldn't move. I told him when I realized why.
Then I told him I was worried that my piercing might hurt. This was
our first bit-o-nookie since the piercing. A wizvaxer whose name I
won't mention because I don't want to out hir unintentionally, (but
hir first initial is D just so sHe knows it was appreciated) had
kindly e-mailed that labial piercings can be okay for sex within a
week, so long as it feels okay, and Jay told me that he would know to
stop, because I would be able to tell him if it hurt. I wouldn't be
able to tell him to stop, but I would HAVE to tell him how I felt if I
wanted him to.
Jesus that was weird. I NEVER talk during sex, and I just couldn't
STOP talking. I HAD to tell him every detail. It was INCREDIBLY
embarrassing. I had to tell him when I was ready, how wet I was, how
much I wanted it, that I could feel him entering me, how that felt,
how the piercing felt, and, well, it got pretty personal. I can't tell
you the things I said. At times I sounded like a hooker talking dirty
for her trick. And I told him that I thought I sounded like a hooker
talking dirty ... etc. I just couldn't seem to stop. I felt so
exposed. I told him that. I couldn't hide anything from him. There was
no privacy, no unexpressed thought, no way to hide what I was
thinking. When I wanted him to go faster, slower, harder, rougher,
tenderer, I couldn't NOT tell him. I couldn't tell him what to do, I
could only report to him what I was feeling, what I wanted. And he
sometimes did the opposite of what I felt I wanted. When I wanted to
move and couldn't, I told him how helpless I felt. When I wanted to
come and couldn't, I told him. When I was right on the edge, he knew,
and kept me there. When I finally came, I told him and he knew, every
time, exactly when and how it felt.
I got kind of noisy there at the end. I am normally NOT noisy. I
sometimes make little noises, but I was really, well, noisy. I guess
there are some people that are like that all the time. I have never
done that before. EVER. I mean, I have bitten my own lower lip rather
than make noises. I just don't DO noisy sex. You know how we are in
Indiana.
Somehow you know when your last orgasm is over that you don't want
another. When that happened, bang! My arms and legs came back like
magic and I knew the whole scene was over. Talk about sudden silence.
Then I started laughing and he tried to shut me up by kissing me and
that didn't work. I laughed so hard he kind of, well, squirted out. I
really tried to stop laughing then, but I turned bug-eyed and exploded
again.
A good time was had by all.
So anyway. Whew.
I highly recommend it. I don't know why, because I don't particularly
want to do it again, but I highly recommend it.
Nurse Jones,
who, once again,
has changed
her mind.
It works much better
now...
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