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Subject: True Story: My 1st Experience (FfF shampoos, enema, shaving)
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Subject: My First Experience <fff> shampoos, enema, shaving
Part I

	It was about 112 degrees when I stepped off the plane in Phoenix
for a week long industry conference and for what would turn out to be my
first lesbian experience.  The heat nearly took my breath away as did what
would transpire the next night.  

	At baggage claim, I met Mary, a colleague and competitor, who had
been on my flight from the East Coast although we hadn't seen each other. 
So we shared a cab from the airport to the hotel and conference center.

	When we arrived about 2 PM, the hotel was overbooked so we agreed
to share a room with two double beds.  While we are competitors in the
technology sector, Mary and I had collaborated successfully on a couple of
projects where the customers wanted to combine parts of her systems and
mine. Though we may not have been best friends we were certainly good
acquaintances.  In fact, we both cashed some big commission checks about
six months earlier and we went out for a glass of champagne, but had not
really talked since then. We have several things in common. I am a
divorcee in my late 40s with two daughters in college.  Mary is single,
about three years younger.  She is attractive, but so am I.  Neither of 
us is anything remotely resembling the dyke-type. 

	After checking in and unpacking, we went down to the pool for an
hour or so and a couple of "umbrella drinks, then back up stairs to shower
and dress for cocktails and dinner with other conferees.  After dinner, we
turned in early -- about 10:30 PM but -- 1:30 am by our East Coast body
clocks.

	The next day was filled with speeches, meetings and classes.  By 4
PM I was dragging with another session yet to go.  I saw Mary in the lobby
between sessions and told her I was going to make an appointment at the
hotel spa for a massage when the day was over.  She said that would be
very expensive -- $125 including tip for a one hour massage -- and she
would make an appointment for both of us with a friend, who cost about
half that.  Will she take us both on such short notice. "She's a sister,
she'll be glad to", she said.  I was so naive, I thought she meant she's
LIKE a sister, meaning a really good friend.  I quickly agreed and we met
in our room at 5:30, dumped our books, brief cases and brochures and
headed out for a taxi.

	Margot had a beautiful house in the Camelback area with an
incredible view of the city.  She was an attractive blonde in her mid to
late 30's who gave Mary a warm kiss at the door and a friendly kiss for
me.  They were good friends, I thought.  After introductions and a little
chit-chat about our conference schedule what Mary had done since her last
visit, Margot said, "well, let's see if we can get rid of some of those
muscle cramps and brain cramps, get the blood flowing and flush out some
of those nasty big city toxins."

	"Let's start with a Jacuzzi, while I set up my equipment."  I said
I didn't have a swim suit with me and Margot said, "good, you don't need
one anyway.  I'll give you a towel you can slip out of as you get in the
water."

	In less than five minutes, Mary and I had slipped into the
bubbling waters and were enjoying the breathtaking view below us as the
lights of the city flickered on.  Five minutes after that, Margot was
handing us each a glass of deliciously cold white wine.  Ah, bliss. 

	We were about half done with the wine when I felt Margot sit
behind me on the edge of the whirl pool, with her legs dangling in the
water on each side of my arms.  She begin to massage my scalp.  Oooohhhh. 
It felt  so good.  So relaxing.  Soon I sensed moisture in my hair and I
thought she was giving me a shampoo.  "What are you doing?" I asked. 
"Giving your hair a hot oil treatment", she replied.  "The dry heat in the
desert will turn your hair into straw in hours and your skin into
parchment just about as fast.  So we're going to see that that doesn't
happen."

	She massaged the sweet smelling oil into my hair and scalp for
about 10 minutes, then moved to the other side the pool to do Mary's hair.
 After Mary's tresses were well oiled, Margot said, "all right, now that
everybody's relaxed, let's sweat out some of those big city toxins before
we get to your massages."  With that she led us to a sauna inside the
house with two benches about 6 feet long.  By now, I was so relaxed, I
completely forgot about wrapping up in my protective towel and just headed
off to the sauna naked as a jaybird just out of the bird bath.

	In the sauna, Margot had laid out towels on the benches and told
us to lie down.  She threw a couple cups of water on the hot rocks and
steam engulfed the room.  In no time we were both sweating profusely. 
Margot came and got us one by one.  I didn't see where Mary went but she
led to a very professional massage table -- the kind with a split in the
table where your face goes so you can lay with your neck and back
perfectly straight.  She had two bath towels rolled up and she placed one
under my pelvis and the other under my ankles so my feet and toes could
hang perfectly straight down without twisting them in or out.

	She also wrapped my still oiled head in a warmed towel and tied it
in a turban.  I've never been able to do that.  I've been washing my own
hair for 35 years and I've never mastered that towel thing.  She then
began to slather me in a fragrant massage oil that she said was made from
desert flowers and cactus juices. She spread my ankles about eight or ten
inches apart. I felt her pour a steady stream of the liquid down my spine
and right into the crack of my bottom.  In fact, when she reached my
bottom, it seemed she just kept pouring.  You can imagine where it went. 
She massaged the oil all over me very quickly and reminded me that she
didn't want me turning to parchment in the desert.  

	As her fingers worked their way back up my legs from the feet, she
began massaging my bottom and her fingers dropped into the crack as part
of working on my inner thighs. She began to probe around my anus.  I 
began to squirm a little to let her know that she didn't need to massage
that.  Before I said anything, I felt something long and slippery slide
into my bottom and up into the rectum.  "What the?"  I realized she was
giving me an enema.  I started to jump off the table, but before I could
finish my sentence or move, she gently but firmly placed her hand in the
small of back so I could not move.  In a soft, but very confident and very
reassuring voice, she said "Settle. Just relax.  This all part of flushing
out those big city toxins."  

	As the solution started flow in, she kept her hand on the small of
my back.  Though I had not expected nor wanted an enema, her hand was in a
sense reassuring.  She then put her other hand right the base of my
bottom, near where the tube entered, and in about one or two minutes, I
was feeling as mellow and relaxed as I'd ever felt in my life.  I hadn't
had an enemas since my last child was born and that certainly wasn't
anything I remembered as pleasant.  This was becoming very pleasant,
indeed.  I learned later it was because Margot's "special cocktail" was a
very special solution, indeed.  More about that later.
	After about five minutes, Margot said, "You're doing very nicely. 
You're over half done."  Then she took her hand from the small of my back
and slid it under my pelvic bone and began to lift.  "Now, I want you get
up on your knees, but keep your head on the table like a baby."  That will
let gravity do its magic and you'll fee less pressure to expel."

	As I raised up, she squirted a large glop of her massage lotion
into her hand and began to massage my belly.  First very gently, mostly to
cover the area with the rich emollients.  Then another handful of the
liquid and she moved to my breasts which hung down about a half inch from
the table.  She massaged them very gently, but very well, working the
desert flower essence into my nipples by rolling each one between her
thumb and forefingers -- gently pulling, then rolling then squeezing. 
They were becoming extended and engorged.  I was feeling very erotic, very
sexy, yet incredibly mellow and relaxed.

	She took a third handful of lotion and returned to my tummy and
began deeply kneading
my lower abdomen starting right on my mons and working her way up toward
my navel.  As she did, I could feel the enema moving higher and deeper
into my body.  That relieved the urge to go and made me more relaxed.  As
she worked, she commented on the friction and roughness of her massage
caused by public hair.  "We'll get rid of that for the next time," she
said.

	I don't know how long she worked on my belly and breasts.  Maybe
five minutes -- maybe 25 -- but then she said, "OK, you did very well. 
You took nearly a full quart.  Now I'm going to take the tube out but I
want to you stay in this position for 15 minutes."

	"When the little timer goes off, you can go to the bathroom.  Your
first trip will be very active.  Lots of water.  Lots of noise and you'll
think you're done.  But you're not.  Just come back, lay on the table and
relax.  In about five or 10 minutes you'll have to go again.  It will
probably take about five trips and 30 to 40 minutes to completely evacuate
but we will have sweated and flushed a lot of those nasty toxins out of
your body and you'll be ready for the best massage of your life.

	"Right now, I'm going to give Mary her massage then I'll be back."
 She then covered me with another huge warm towel out of the sauna and put
in another new-age tape in her baby boom box and left.

	As she left, a little voice inside was saying, you should feel
foolish kneeling her with your butt up in the air like a Thanksgiving
turkey all greasy and shiny from your hot-oiled hair to your cactus-juiced
toes.  But I didn't.  I felt peaceful.  Serene.  Toasty and cozy in my
warm towel cocoon.

	By the time the little alarmed made its one "ding", the urgency to
go to the bathroom had subsided to just a slightly stronger than normal
urge to go.  But when I went, her prediction cam true.  I hope no one
heard me.  I would be terribly embarrassed.  Still the relief was
wonderfully pleasurable -- almost like an orgasm.  I don't think I had one
but it was close.  Until that moment, going to the bathroom was jut a job
to be done that usually came at a very inconvenient time.  
	
	After that first explosive release, I laid down on the table again
and just as she promised, made about five more trips in the next 45
minutes or so.  With each I seemed to feel a certain lightness and
increased energy.  No energy like I wanted to run a marathon or even play
tennis but a feeling of having my whole body invigorated.  Maybe there was
something to this "toxins" stuff after all.

	Just as the tape ran out, she returned asked, "well, do we feel
are clean and sparkly and healthy inside.?"  I told her I had never
experienced all at once the combination of feelings I was enjoying.  It
was the closest to nirvana I could imagine.

	"Well, good," she said, "now I'll you in on the secret of Margot's
special cocktail.  "The wine!" I exclaimed, "you put something in the
wine."  

	"No just grapes," she said, "but I dissolve two Valium tablets
into the enema solution.  The effect is very pleasant as you seen and
almost instantaneous."  Intellectually was wasn't  pleased that I'd been
given a drug without my knowledge but I couldn't argue with how I felt. 
"In seven years," she said, "I've never had a complaint."  I certainly
would not be her first.

	"OK, on your tummy," she said as she covered me with yet another
fresh warm towel, turned out the lights, put on another tape, and began to
massage my feet.  Gradually she worked her way up my calves and thighs
with long, powerful strokes leading to my touché.  Then another giant dose
of desert flowers with cactus nectar.  It ran down my rib cage and down
the sides of my breasts. Once again I felt it running down my crack and
trickling between my labia.  She quickly smoothed it in  and began
massaging my shoulders, neck, and back.  She was soo-ooo good.  My arms
and shoulders relaxed so that my arms just fell off the table and jarred
me back to consciousness.

	Then she began re-kneading my buttocks, alternating between deep,
powerful strokes and feather-light, almost tickling, caresses.  Once
again, she spread my ankles apart slowly, gently, almost imperceptibly.  I
didn't really notice until I felt her fingers sliding down my crack and
caressing my out labia.  Somewhere far away I heard my left brain asking
"what's happening here?  You don't do this."  (And I don't.  I rarely
masturbate.  I don't even own a vibrator and I'm not in any kind of
relationship.)  But my right brain was saying, "why ask why?", as a spread
my legs just a little further apart without her urging.

	Moments later, her finger penetrated me and ever so gently found
my clitoris.  As I began to arch my back, she whispered, "turn over."  I
hated her taking her hand away for even a second, but it was only five or
ten seconds before I was comfortably on my back and her hand returned.

	Then I felt more desert nectar poured over my breasts and mons and
flowing into my vagina.  I was incredibly turned on.  She began to massage
my breasts with her other hand.  My nipples were aching with excitement as
the fingers danced and pirouetted over them.  Then a second finger slipped
inside me while her thumb began to massage my mons , looking for my
G-spot.  Again she said, "this will be better next time when this hair is
gone and you're baby smooth."

	I had never felt so sexually alive, as the  other hand moved from
breast to breast rolling, pulling, gently tweaking each nipple.  Then both
nipples.  As the waves of orgasm began to wash over me, I again a whisper
from the left brain -- from about as far away as the Grand Canyon --
saying, "she doesn't have three hands.  She can't touch all those places
at once."  

	I did not want to deal with facts like that just then.  "Why ask
how?"  Just ride this incredible wave.  Suddenly a pair of lips encircled
my left nipple.  Soft, feminine lips...but eager hungry lips.  Whose lips?
 Whose fingers?  

Continued in Part II.

	

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