Thursday, June 4, 2009

Rectal Thermometers part two

I handed the thermometer to GF outside the Walgreens. She casually put it in her purse, saying nothing more about it as we walked off to the rest of our day. I had assumed as I was buying it that we'd be going back to her apartment that very afternoon to break in this new toy, and I was more than a little flushed with excitement at the thought of offering myself up to yield to the icy probing of the thermometer's tip. But once we returned to her apartment and began messing around, my excitement gradually turned into frustration as time progressed without her mentioning-or using- the thermometer.

Certainly not everyone considers their anus to be an erogenous zone...many people are in fact horrified by the idea of every being touched back there. But as those who do include this most personal area as part of their sexuality will tell you, it's like all the blood rushes back there, making it more sensitive for the attention about to be received. When you then don't receive that expected attention, you (or at least I) get an uncomfortable itching back there. I don't know...maybe that itching sensation is just a response my body has, like there's a hair stuck inside of me.

But it was an itch left unscratched (at least by the thermometer) for a long time. She didn't take my temperature that day...or any of the many days that followed. I've always struggled with discomfort when it comes to revealing my sexuality to others; I have a lot of difficulty not feeling weird and perverted and seriously damaged in the eyes of others. At 27, I intellectually understand that in the grand scheme of things, my particular fetishes and fantasies are relatively banal and pedestrian. I have a lot of close friends (including GF) who are into suspensions- where you hang from hooks that have been carefully inserted into your flesh. And while I find something darkly beautiful in the rituals involved in this practice, I can honestly say I could never myself do it. And yes, GF has been pretty serious in the BDSM scene for a long time, and has explored very edgy, serious power exchanges. Even knowing this, though, I can't shake the feeling that I am somehow just to weird and out there in my fantasies, something that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with a deep-seated cultural training about what is "normal" and "abnormal". I don't know if it's a Catholic thing, a small town thing, or a result of my anxiety and esteem issues, but it's something I struggle with. By her not using it, or even mentioning it again, I started to feel a little dirty and weird.

So anyway, back to the thermometer. More than a month passed, and after awhile I forgot I had even mentioned it. There were certainly other things we were exploring, and my submissive plate was full enough that the absence of this one thing didn't leave a very big hole (not intended as a pun!). Because we both have jobs that have changing schedules, sometimes we don't get to see each other until late in the evening. I can get off at 9 or 10 at night, and either take the two buses to get from work to her place or, if it's at least reasonably warm outside, I'll ride my bicycle over. This past winter lingered a little later than normal (thanks, climate change!), so as soon as I could, I started riding my bike everywhere.

And so on this one particular night, I arrived at her place at about 10:30 pm, having biked the four miles from work to her place. Since winter had only just receded, I'd only been riding for a week or so, and my fat, cigarette smoking, out of shape ass was seriously kicked. I arrived at her door soaked in sweat and panting. I kissed her hello, then told her I should probably go take a quick shower and change. But she stopped me, telling me with a concerned look that she was worried I wasn't well. I shook my head, explaining that my wrecked look was merely the result of a long winter spent sitting on my fat butt eating oreos, but she expressed worry about my health. Her long, cool hand to my forehead, she told me I was pretty warm. "It could be the swine flu", she suggested. Swine flu was all over the news that week, and I felt a sudden sinking in my stomach at the prospect of being infected. It was possible; after all, I have a job in a university where I come into contact with a lot of people. Worse, I ride public transportation, and as a nail biter, there actually is a threat of picking up god knows what kind of bacteria from the surfaces I touch (thinking about it, that's genuinely a disgusting thought).

Holding my hand, GF led me into her bedroom, suggesting I might want to lay down. I got on the bed, careful to sit so my shoes hung over the edge (she's a serious neat-freak). Her hands on my shoulders, she gently directed me to lay down. I lay there like that for a minute, looking up at her concerned face. She sat there above me, stroking my face. With her other hand, she reached down and undid my belt, then unbuttoned my jeans and lowered the zipper. Her fingertips touched the strip of skin above the waist of my underwear, feeling the red mark where my jeans had dug into the flesh. Gently she whispered, "roll over, sweetie". I did as I was told, careful to keep my Chucks over the side of the bed; as soon as I was on my belly, she stood up and pulled my jeans down to my knees, leaving my undies on. "I'll be back in a moment", she told me.

I lay there feeling a weird, nervous rush of excitement and jitters as what was happening occurred to me. I stared at my hands as they kneaded the comforter, my body involuntarily trembling. I cursed myself for not having had a chance to wash up first, suddenly intensely self-aware of the sweat drying between my thighs. I at least found some small solace in the knowledge that I'd moved my bowels that morning before I showered. As bad as the prospect of being damp with sweat was, that would have been far too humiliating.
yes, I sweat...and you're so perfect

After what felt like half an hour of me laying there half stripped pressed against the bed (it was, in actually, probably 45 seconds), I could hear GF return. I could feel the mattress shift as she lowered herself down, sitting on her legs parallel with my hips. I felt the light weight of a few objects being placed on the small of my back. She stroked my hair a moment, then reached down and lowered my panties to below my butt. I felt the cold air against my skin, and that familiar heart beat skip that comes from being exposed in front of someone fully dressed. I felt a long, cool palm rest on one of my buttocks; feeling how hot my skin was from the bike ride, she commented again about how warm I was. She withdrew her hand- I tried to look over my shoulder at her, but she gently scolded; " you're going to want to look away for this, sweetie". I put my face in my head, nodding.

The items resting on my lower back were picked up, I heard the loud pop of a cap being removed, followed by the quieter snap of a second cap. Through the mattress I could feel her shift her weight so that she was over me. "Lift up a little for me, sweetie", she said. I lifted my hips a few inches from the bed, opening myself. Suddenly there was a cold wet finger between my cheeks, rubbing against me. It pressed against me without entering, generously lubricating me. I buried my face deeper into my hands, wondering if my blush extended as far as my bare bottom. Her right index finger withdrew from lubricating me, and I felt her left hand gently rest on top of my head.

My anus sensitized by her finger's touch, suddenly felt the tip of the thermometer poking against it. At first attempt, the thermometer approached at the wrong angle, sharply jabbing the skin just outside of my opening. In reaction to the pain, I pressed my hips down on the bed and rapidly shook my head no. GF withdrew her hand from my head so she could lean over my bottom. Hesitantly I lifted my hips again, and I felt her weight against my lower back as she leaned in to see better. With her the thumb of her free hand she spread me open further, and I could feel her lean close. The tip of the thermometer touched me again, this time more gently and centered correctly. I forced myself to breath deep and slowly, my anus unclentching. With no resistance the tip penetrated me. I felt the glass tube slowly slide into me; once it was inside me, GF withdrew the hand that was holding me open and I gingerly lowered my hips back to the bed. She shifted again, and I felt her hand stroking my hair again.

I lay there, my senses reduced to the hot moisture of my breath trapped in my hands my face was pressed against, my heartbeat racing in my ears, the cool air against my naked bottom and thighs, GF's hand slowly stroking my head, and the faint pressure of the thermometer inside of me. I folded completely into myself- there is a strange, calming focus where the outer world drops away that a few bodily sensations provide; I mainly exprience it during spankings, when just the right amount of pressure is put against my clitoris, when I'm blindfolded and very lightly touched by her fingertips and when I'm penetrated (vaginally or anally) in a way where there is minimal contact with my partner. All these sensations so focus me on a particular part of my body (especially if I can't see) that everything else sort of drops away. It's this impossible to explain thing where the the constant roll of your internal monologue is interrupted and you just are. It's why, while I don't consider myself a "pain slut", I do appreciate the place where the right kind of pain can take me.

I started crying. I didn't even realize it at first until my sobs became louder and my body convulsed. I lay there for a couple of minutes, nude from my waist to knees with a thermometer poking out from my butt, and I fucking cried. This was a mouth open, noisy, wet, body shaking helpless sobbing cry. Because of the role spanking plays in our relationship, GF has certainly seen me cry before...just never like this. GF later told me that she was actually quite frightened when I started crying, not knowing what to do, if she should remove the thermometer or not. Thankfully, she leaving the thermometer and not saying anything other than softly repeating my name over and over again as she stroked my hair. Once I had cried myself out, she carefully withdrew the thermometer from me (I was not running a fever, she later told me).

A little later, we got into her tub for a long soak. Leaning back against her, I genuinely couldn't answer what had happened. It wasn't pain (her initial concern, after the first aborted attempt at penetration); I'd certainly taken much larger wider things into me (no, not like super wide- just a lot wider than a thermometer...don't be porny!). I don't know that I was really thinking about anything as I lay there crying. Maybe it was finally conquering a childhood anxiety... maybe it was being touched by having a partner who is genuinely interested in fulfilling me...maybe it was a reaction to the wretched helplessness of thousand tiny indignities...I don't know. What I do know is that she has taken my temperature several times since then, and while each time has been an intensely erotic experience, it's not produced the kind of emotional outburst that first time did.

okay, you were good and read the whole thing; here's one nudy picture


  1. I am very jealous my only experience with a rectal thermometer and a woman was the lead in to a very painful and embarrassing spanking. I deserved it I guess for trying to make it seem as though I was sick by running the oral thermometer under the hot water. Any way I have been fixated on rectal thermometers and bare bottom spankings evr since

  2. i'm scared now, after reading this.

    Could you imagine your fetish but instead of it being BDSM it's actually pedophilia? You would show all the signs of being a child molester. Addiction, fear, wild carnivorus acts remembered vividly. And you would be locked up and most likely killed in prison.

    1. Anonymous wrote: "Could you imagine your fetish but instead of it being BDSM it's actually pedophilia? You would show all the signs of being a child molester. Addiction, fear, wild carnivorus acts remembered vividly. And you would be locked up and most likely killed in prison."


      Wow, your violent response and the fact that you equate the OP with pedophilia?

      I really hope you get the help you need and that you feel better soon.

  3. Shelly,

    Great post, and I think your self-analysis shows considerable insight. It is no coincidence that the word "cathartic" has the dual meaning of (1) a laxative and (2) a positive emotional release of pent-up emotions. I have spoken with colon therapists who report that some patients seem to go through some beneficial emotional release at the time of their colonics. Whether your emotional response was a recreation of the intimacy and caring of the temperature experience with your mother or an over-coming of the earlier anxiety of not being in control in the doctor's office, I think it does relate back to childhood experiences. I am curious though, how old were you when your mother stopped the rectal temps? When the doctor stopped? Why do you feel your doctor may have been a "butt freak?" Up until recently rectal temps have been the norm for children, and as you noted, recatl temps and suppositories are still common in Europe.


  4. Shelly,

    Your fascination with rectal temperatures and rectal thermometers is not uncommon, and I can certainly attest, you're not alone in this area. Spent many a three minute period, underwear lowered, thermometer buried in my rectum having my temperature taken in many different circumstances.

  5. Great story --- yes, rectal temperature taking can be a lot of fun. The PLAY DOCTOR website is up and running again and ALL patients have their temperatures taken RECTALLY.

    Check it out:

  6. Once when I was 13, I tried the running hot water on the oral thermometer to fool mom when I wanted to stay home from school.

    She saw me do it and marched me into her bedroom where I had to take off my panties and lay facedown on her bed for a rectal temperature taking. She did not spank me but as a punishment she gave me an enema.

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  8. i ill admit just looking at he subject lying on their stomach hving their temperatre taken rectally reminds me when my girlfriend would take my temperature rectally and i would get an erection and i would end up getting an enema to make me happy and i will admit she can do me any time she wants to.

  9. Great story. My mom was an APRN and had an examination room in our home. It was quite normal for her to take my rectal temp whenever she thought it necessary. Whenever she took me to see the Doctor it was the same thing. Mom took my rectal temperature until I was 40 years old. I moved out of the area but I continued to have my temperature taken rectally. Mom has since passed on but I still have my temp taken rectally at nearly 60 years old asnd probably always will.

  10. You put your face.... into your head(?)and nodded...


    Ah well...did you blush when she caught a whifft of your sweet sweaty nutty butthole?(say that fast 3 times)


    Cheeky cute sweet sweaty nutty butthole.

    ( _!_ )

    1. You have contributed nothing here. Congratulations.

  11. The roots of my rectal temperature fetish started growing when I was very young, when my mother used to take my temperature rectally. Much like you, my mother would put me over here knee. She was very gentle and very careful. The thermometer was always well lubed with Vaseline. It is actually arousing for me to type this as I think of that cool glass thermometer sliding into my tight young anus.

    As a child I could have never explained how it felt to have my temperature taken this way. I did not understand the concept of sexual arousal, nor did I have any idea how lasting the effect of those experiences would be on me. Perhaps the most memorable time was when there was a suppository inserted after my temperature was taken, though the insertion of suppositories is not something that I enjoy today.

    The weirdest part was that, as a young child, I would actually stick the thermometer up my own butt while in the bathroom alone. The only reason I can remember for doing this is that it felt so good as it slid inside of me. It was never as enjoyable as when mom would do it, but it was close enough.

    Eventually puberty hit and almost every masturbation session involved me taking my own temperature rectally before I would masturbate. I would usually just lie on my tummy with my bare bottom in the air and reach back and insert the thermometer. I would become aroused from just lying there with that thermometer sticking out of me.

    I was 26 years old before I ever summoned the never to mention to a partner that I wanted to take their temperature. I was actually surprised at how receptive they were to my suggestion, and it was only after I had taken their temperature rectally that I realized that actually inserting a thermometer into another person's anus is one of the most erotic things that I had ever done.

    Of course, after doing it them, I wanted it done to me. No one had ever inserted a thermometer into me except for my mother. As I laid there exposed I experienced a level of exhilaration and excitement like never before. The anticipation was overwhelming, I could not believe it was happening and I could not believe that I had been too embarrassed to try this with other partners.

    Suddenly I felt my cheeks spread apart, KY was dabbed on my anus, an then it happened, that cool glass rod was slowly slid into me. The feeling was beyond description, it was pure ecstasy!

    As I was becoming lost in the moment I was suddenly reminded that this was not my mother taking my temperature. I was told, "We should probably check it now." The thermometer was slowly extracted, then I was told, "It may need a bit longer." Then it was slowly reinserted. It was unimaginably delightful as the thermometer had cooled slightly, so the reinsertion felt as wonderful as the original insertion.

    This was repeated several more times. Pull it out, check it, reinsert it. On the last "check," the thermometer was slowly slide in and out of me for a couple of minutes. It was so arousing. I'm sure I must have had a fever when it was over!

    There has been much thermometer play since then, but that time was special. It was the first time that I had taken another person's rectal temperature, and it was the first time I had had my rectal temperature taken as an adult. I actually think about that time sometimes when I masturbate.

    Is it weird to have a rectal temperature fetish? No more so than any other fetish I suppose.



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