Natural Medicine Turns Steamy

This sexy story excerpt from “Owning It: Embracing Our Bodies, Sexuality, and Power” by Stephani Maari Booker is published with permission.

Good Sex Story from The Best Medicine by Stephani Maari Booker

“We’re not gonna be able to do it Saturday.” It was Thursday, and I was sitting on my living room couch having an after-dinner phone conversation with my girlfriend.

What?” Freya was loud enough to make me snatch the phone away from my ear.

“Or, at least, you’re not gonna be able to do it to me,” I added.

“You’re on your period?” she asked with a lower voice, thank goodness.

“Nope. Even worse, believe it or not.” I inserted a little dramatic pause before I stated the problem that would keep us from getting our uninhibited freak on the coming weekend: “Yeast infection.”

“Argh!” she hollered. I had to hold the phone from a distance again.

Shit, I wanted to scream, too. Freya and I had only started getting “intimate,” as she so delicately put it, in the last two weeks, after dating for a month and a half or so. Unfortunately, a visit to my local clinic on Tuesday confirmed the disgusting symptoms I had been experiencing, so that meant seven days of only getting intimate with anti-yeast infection medicine.

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“Yeah. I’m pretty nasty down there.” I moved the receiver back to my ear. “I’m using that messy Monostat stuff every night. I’ll be on the fifth day of it Saturday.”

“Ohhh,” I heard Freya moan. “You know, Maddi, you could just eat yogurt instead of using the cream. Yogurt will cure you of yeast just as good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ms. All-Natural,” I dismissed her idea, like I do most of her hippie-dippy nature girl stuff. “It probably takes forever to work, like all those natural cures you’re into.”

“A plain yogurt douche works, too,” she kept on.

“Please, like I need something messier and slower than Monostat cream! Freya, my baby doll, I love you, but let up on that stuff sometimes!” I hated to even admit I was following some of her “food is the best medicine” advice, but I did it anyway. “I am eating yogurt on top of using the cream every day, though. I want to knock this shit out. But in the meantime, my poonani is off limits to you, baby!”

“Hmmm…you know what? I could help you with this.”

“What do you mean?”

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“I could…this weekend…give you some plain yogurt.”

“Illlh!” I stuck my tongue out with disgust. “Plain yogurt with nothing in it? There’s no way I’m eating that.”

Slowly and slyly, she said, “I didn’t say anything about giving it to you to eat.”

No. She. Ain’t. Talking. About… “Hooooh…hell naw, woman!”

“A plain yogurt application—just what the natural health practitioner ordered!” she proclaimed, her voice high with triumph.

“Mm-hm,” I conceded. “Aren’t you happy you’ve figured out a way you do your little natural girl thing on me?”

“I’m happy I found a way where you would let me,” she replied, sounding as cheery as a chipmunk. “When you come over Saturday, we’ll go out to the co-op store to pick up some plain yogurt and other good things.”

“You mean good-for-you things,” I said back. “Stuff that’s natural and organic and healthy and crap.”

“Hey, you’re coming along to my way of thinking…”

“Uh-uh!” I had to contradict her on that. “I need sugar, fat, chocolate.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have any of those things. Just the right ones.”

“Girl, I can’t be all anal like that over food.” We’ve been over this before. “Let’s get off the food thing for now and get on some sweet talk, hmm?”

#

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“All right. Vanilla. Vanilla. Banana. Why do they always make the plain yogurt so hard to find?” Freya says to me.

“Probably because nobody wants to eat that nasty stuff!” I answer. It’s Saturday around one p.m., and we’re in the dairy aisle at Freya’s regular co-op grocery store. I look down at a low shelf and spot what we’re looking for. “Oh, here’s some plain down here.”

I pick a container up, but Freya puts her hand on my arm. “Oh no, don’t just grab some and put it in the cart,” she tells me. “Read the ingredients first.”

“Why? They’re all yogurt, right?” I roll my eyes.

“And that’s exactly what the label should say,” she tells me with her teacher’s tone: the sweet, it’s-okay-that-you-don’t-know-this voice she uses at the elementary school where she works. “If it has any other ingredients listed, don’t buy it. Some makers of dairy products like to put a lot of fillers in yogurt and sour cream. You want to use the pure product.”

“Okay, I get it,” I say. We go through this mess every time I shop for food with her. We’ve got to read all labels and know every ingredient in everything. This can get on my damn nerves, but I go ahead and turn the container around in my hands to read it. “All right, this Dairy Maid Old Fashioned has just ‘Grade A cultured yogurt’ as its only ingredient.”

“Then that’ll do,” she says.

“Good,” I say, but then I look at the size of the container; it’s not one of those little yogurt cups but a big tub of the stuff. “You think we need this much, though?”

“For you? No,” she says, “but I can use the rest to make fruit-and-yogurt mixes, so go ahead and get it.”

“Okay.” I put the yogurt in the cart.

“That reminds me, let’s go back to the produce and get some bananas,” Freya says, and we leave the dairy aisle.

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#

Now I hear baby doll coming up the stairs. The bedroom door opens, and she steps in carrying a small glass bowl with a spoon or something in it in one hand. A big bath towel hangs over one arm. She walks to her side of the bed and places the bowl and the towel on the nightstand.

“It’s ready,” she says. “I made sure to stir it up while holding the bowl in my hand and let it sit for a moment so it won’t be cold.”

“Shoot, it better not be cold like straight out of the refrigerator!”

“It’s not! See, stick your finger in it.” She picks up the bowl and offers it to me.

I stick my pointer finger in it. It’s watery but creamy at the same time, and it’s not cold. “Yeah, that’ll work,” I tell her.

“All right, let’s get ready.” She bends and reaches under the nightstand, and she pulls out a pair of latex gloves.

“Putting on gloves like a good nurse, huh?” I remark, bad girl-on-girl porn images dancing in my head.

“Like a good natural health practitioner should!” she declares, proud as a peacock.

“So, you want me on my back with my legs in the air, Dr. All-Natural? Too bad we don’t have stirrups attached to the bed.”

“Actually, I think it would be easier for us both if you were on your belly.”

“Oooh, you’re gonna take me from behind!”

“Yes, I’m going to administer the treatment from the rear,” she answers, trying to sound all serious. “When you turn over, put some pillows under you so you can rest on your knees with your butt raised up.”

“Boy, that’s a more compromising position than the one they put you in at the doctor’s office.”

“Heh, heh,” she chuckles with a little attitude, and then she says, “Oh yeah, and lay this towel over the pillows.”

“Yeah, this big thing’s good mess prevention.”

I stack the pillows and then straddle them to make sure my butt is up and I’m comfortable. Then I take the towel and drape it over the pillows. After tucking the towel under the pillows a bit and making other adjustments, I take off my panties and assume the position: ass up, legs bent and wrapped around a pile of pillows, head down, turned to the side and resting on my arms.

I feel the fitted sheet shift and the bed sink a little, letting me know my baby has gotten in bed behind me. The bed rocks a bit, and then I feel her touch on both my feet. I raise my head and look; her legs are stretched out around me, her feet brushing against my calves. I put my head back down, and I wait.

I feel the flat of one hand on my left butt cheek. I’m surprised there’s no glove on it, but I guess she doesn’t need gloves on both hands. So long as she doesn’t touch my infected coochie with that hand, it’s okay. Her bare hand is warm and steady against me.

Now a smooth bluntness pushes against and parts my lips…

“Umh.” Wet. Slick. Smooshy. Ooooh.

“You all right?” she asks. Her voice is quiet and sweet.

“Yes. Oh yes,” I tell her.

She starts stirring my pot, sweeping around and around, making me tingle on the outside and ache on the inside.

“Ohhhhh.”

“You’re opening up a bit,” she says. “I want to add some yogurt so I can give you more coverage, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fine, baby. Give me more.”

She pulls out. I miss her, but not for long. More, she gives me: more yogurt, more fingers. More stirring.

“Uhhhh.”

“How’s that?” she says while stroking my back with her left hand.

“It’s good, baby. It’s good.”

So full and so deep, but I’m greedy, so I push against her fingers. Her response makes me moan: pressing, twisting, pulling, pressing, twisting, pulling, pressing, twisting, pulling…

“Mmmmmm…” I’m open. Sucking her into me. Before, my cooch was so irritated it felt tight and closed like a drawstring bag. Sticking the anti-yeast cream applicator in my poonani felt about as good as sticking it in my ear. Now it’s open and soft and loose and she’s pushing and probing and stretching and I’m soothed and excited and grateful…yes, yes, yes!

“Faster, baby. Do it hard and fast.”

“You sure? You ready for that?” she asks.

“Yes, please baby. I’m ready for it! Can’t you tell?”

She giggles a little, and then takes a short breath. Then, the smooth, slick fullness pumping in me. I hear and feel the slurping and smacking of yogurt, latex, poonani and fingers.

“Ooh! Yes! Mmph!”

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 I grunt and automatically raise my butt to bounce my poonani hard on Freya’s gloved fingers, while moving my arms from under my head to reach out and grab the wooden headboard to brace myself.

“Do it! Uh, yes, give it to me!” I’m riding and slamming my baby doll’s fingers so hard that the bed is shaking.

Then I feel it; the contractions, pushing from the inside out, so strong they feel like they’re gonna force Freya’s fingers out of me.

“Aah, oh yes!” I cry over and over until I’m crying out with no more words.

*

Begging for more?

To find out what happens next, buy Owning It: Embracing Our Bodies, Sexuality, and Power here.

Find out more about Stephani from her website or her profile on The Good Bits, or follow her on  Twitter, Instagram or Goodreads.