Desire (11 page)

“I know that,” he replies, quick as a flash, “but how else do I get to feel both your tits?” And with that, he slides the palm of his hand across my breasts, so that he’s now poking and prodding my other breast. He puts the heel of his hand down to where my nipple is and allows it to warm pleasantly as it hardens under his touch.

“There appears to be some reaction in the left breast area,” he says. “I’ll have to make a note of that.” He unhooks his toy stethoscope from his ears, lets it fall away from my breast, but his hand stays flat against my tit, my nipple getting harder all the time until it’s so engorged that it’s poking through my bra and pressing against the stiff nylon of my nurses’ uniform. I look around the room. Can anyone else see me standing here like this, letting a complete stranger fondle my tits? And if they can, can they see the desire etched on my face? We’re in the corner, and everyone’s busy, but if anyone were to stand still and look, that’s what they’d see: a doctor and nurse indulging in a very private conversation.

Jay takes his hand away. “Right,” he says. “Just a couple of extra symptoms to check you out for, and then I can make a diagnosis.” He brings out a tiny light, shines it in my eyes, and leans in so closely that I can feel his breath on my face. I could, if I wanted to, lean in and go for the kiss now, but despite what he’s just done I don’t know how to read him. All this doctor/patient baby talk and flirty banter might be tongue-in-cheek, but my desire is very real. His physical closeness makes my heart beat hard, and my body wants him to finish what he started when he placed his hand on my breast that time. “Interesting,” he says.

Then he places a finger on my lower lip, forces my mouth open, and says, “Say
aaah
.”

I giggle as I try to make the noise he’s after, but I’m so distracted by the sensations all over my body that it comes out as a prolonged “
ooooh
,” more like a sigh I’d make during sex than one I’d usually let escape from my body during a routine doctor’s examination. I bite down on Jay’s finger and close my lips around it, tasting his salty sweat.

He leaves it there, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. I suck his finger like it’s his cock, my tongue caressing first the underside of his digit, then the end, showing just what I can do with my mouth given half a chance. When he next speaks, he’s the one with the wavering voice.

“I see dilated pupils and an increased heartbeat,” he says, half joking, half serious. Our bodies are almost touching, and I can feel the heat from his radiate toward mine. As I wonder what it would be like to press our bodies together, my pussy pumps out a hot little rhythm in reply.

“I diagnose a serious case of sexual arousal,” he says. “I’m afraid it’s terminal. There’s only one cure, and I’ll have to administer it. But before I make sure, I need to do an internal examination.”

He bends forward so that the sides of his white coat hang like curtains obscuring my body from view. We’re looking each other in the eye, locked in this moment, silently daring each other to back down. The flirty banter of earlier has given way to something raw and powerful. I know that I’m about to cross a line and that I want to.

Jay reaches between my thighs. My skirt is so short that access is unimpeded. His soft dry fingers toy with the garters, tracing the skin on my inner thighs, sliding between the stockings and my flesh, before softly drawing my panties to one side to expose my pussy. I’m fluttering with anticipation, and I can’t believe I’m letting him finger me in the middle of this party. He runs his fingertips along my labia, probes the fold between my cunt and the tops of my thighs. I spasm, then relax as he inserts a finger into me. It’s wet inside, and he swirls that finger around before drawing it out tantalizingly slowly and then pressing it gently against my clit. It’s all happening so quickly. I can’t believe I’m ready for it, but I am. He rubs the eager little bud, and my knees tremble beneath me. I stagger backward and lean on the window for support.

Jay takes a step forward but doesn’t break the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of my hole, around and around my clit. The cold glass of the window soothes my aching flesh, and I’m glad I’ve got something to lean on. The rushes travel along my limbs, and my cunt swells and engorges, each tiny movement he makes getting me wetter and wetter and wetter. I close my eyes. If anyone is looking, I don’t want to know, because I can’t stop something that feels this good.

Jay takes his hand away from between my legs.

“Oh, you’re definitely suffering from a severe case of nymphomania,” he says. “It’s the worst I’ve ever seen. There’s only one way to cure it, I’m afraid,” and as he talks, I see him tugging at his belt, loosening his trousers. “An injection. Do you know what kind of injection?”

I nod. “An injection of your big, hard cock,” I say, and at this I see a flicker of hungry desire travel across his features. Eager to set my eyes on his cock and get even hornier, I try to glance down and see whether it is big and hard, but the shadow of Jay’s white coat is obscuring my view. I pull the coat toward me, holding it out so that it makes a screen that no one will see through. To the casual observer it will look like we’re deep in conversation. I hope.

“That’s right,” he says, stepping in closer, and for a few delicious seconds I feel the soft round tip of his prick prodding against my swollen clitoris. I’m so slippery that he glides into my slit with ease. I gasp with pleasure as his dick turns out to be the biggest and hardest I’ve ever taken inside me. His legs are bent at the knee, and he’s thrusting into me, pulling out, pounding hard. He slides a finger between me and him, using his knuckle to make short sharp motions on my clitoris that precipitate the explosion.

I orgasm in under a minute, my cunt tugging and squeezing at his dick, and he’s a split second behind me. I come hard around his prick, milking it dry of spunk. We stay close, two pulses racing at a rate that any doctor would call terribly dangerous. Jay’s hard-on subsides, and I let the delicious aftershocks of my climax give his dick a few final squeezes. It takes longer to recover from the orgasms than it did for them to occur—from the moment of penetration to climax.

“So,” he whispers in my ear, “do you feel better now?”

“Oh, much, much better, doctor,” I reply, nipping his earlobe with my teeth. I look around the room over his shoulder. Everyone’s too busy on the dance floor or indulging in flirtations of their own to pay attention to the two medical staff sequestered in the dark corner. I pull back my hips, ease myself gently off his dick, and he tucks it back into his trousers.

“Glad to hear it,” he says. “But I do hope that you have a relapse very soon indeed.” He puts a hand to my cheek, a hand that smells of my own cunt, and only then do we lean in for our first kiss.

I
met Max at the designer furniture store where I work, an exclusive little emporium at the expensive end of town. I’d only been employed there for a few weeks when he came in to buy a new sofa. I noticed him as soon as he walked into the store. Sexy in an easygoing way, he had dark brown hair that stood up in a messy tangle at the front of his head. As soon as I saw his hair, I wanted to run my hands through it, to tug at it, to brush it away from his eyes. I made a point of going over and asking him if I could help him.

“Thank you . . . Bethany,” he said, reading my name tag. Later he told me he’d only pretended to look at my badge but actually had been trying to see down my top.

Max explained that he was outfitting his new bachelor pad. As I showed him our most cutting-edge, exclusive items, it became apparent that he had great taste and lots of money. He picked out some cool artwork and an edgy, geometric sofa. When I was helping him to choose an armchair, he bounced on a leather chair and asked me if I’d like to sit on his lap. I would have liked to, very much, but it was not the time or the place.

“Not here, not while I’m working,” I said. “But if you’d like to take me out to dinner, I’ll sit wherever you like.”

Max picked me up from work three hours later when my shift ended, took me to dinner at an expensive restaurant and then on to a cocktail bar. I went home with him, and sure enough I sat on his lap. Naked. For two hours. We’ve been inseparable ever since. I knew that night that I’d met my soul mate.

Like me, Max is what you’d call a classic narcissist. He loves to watch us fuck, and we’ve filmed ourselves screwing from every angle in every room of the house. When a shipment of huge designer mirrors came into the shop, I ordered one for him. It’s floor-to-ceiling, and he loves to fuck in front of it, pounding my pussy from behind while we make eye contact in the mirror, watching each other’s face as we come. Sometimes he’ll press me against the mirror and fuck me right up against it, so that when we’ve finished, the sweaty outlines of our bodies are imprinted on the glass. And sometimes it’s enough just to talk about what it would be like to have other people watch us fucking. How hot it would be to see them lose control as they watch his dick slide into me, as they watch our tangled bodies struggling together. This fantasy never fails to get us both off. Like I said, Max is my soul mate.

When we’d been together a year, I thought that I should do something special to celebrate the fact that we were more in love and hornier for each other than ever. And by something special I didn’t mean a new piece of furniture! I wanted to give him a new sexual adventure, something he’d never forget, something that would gratify our exhibitionist streak. I thought about posting a film of us fucking on the Internet. I could just picture Max’s cock getting hard as we broadcast our climaxes for total strangers to watch. To know that other people out there were watching us, dicks in hands, vibrators on clits? God, I got wet just thinking about it. But I didn’t dare risk it.

I racked my brain for ideas, and then one day, as I was putting the finishing touches on a new window display, and people on the street outside stopped to watch me at work, it came to me in a flash. I knew just what kind of anniversary gift I was going to give Max.

When the day came, Max took me out to dinner to the very same French bistro he’d wined and dined me at the year before. Over the meal, we talked about our favorite subject: sex.

“I like your tits in that top,” he said. “I can’t wait to take you home and put them in my mouth.”

“I tell you what would be even sexier,” I replied, warming to the theme. “If you did that here and now. If I just whipped them out, here in the restaurant. Look at that waiter—imagine how hard he’d get seeing my nipples, how jealous he’d be. And that woman over there dining by herself—we could show her your dick. I could take it in my mouth, and she’d be rubbing her clit under the table.”

I kicked off my shoe and slid a stockinged foot up the inside of Max’s thigh. I realized I was having the desired effect as my foot encountered a rock-hard erection. I pressed hard with the ball of my foot. He moaned and closed his eyes.

“Don’t tease me,” he said. “You don’t know how much I’d love to fuck you in public tonight, but even I draw the line at nudity at the table. It’s very bad etiquette.”

I giggled. “Well, you’ll just have to make do with whatever else I’ve got planned for you, won’t you?” I said, raising one eyebrow.

“Plans?” said Max, looking excited. “I didn’t know there were plans.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “But I won’t tell you until after you’ve had your coffee.” I’ve never seen a man down an espresso so quickly.

“Come on then,” he said. “What is it?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you on the walk home,” I said. “I think you’ll like it.”

As we paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant, I had to laugh; Max was so hard that he couldn’t stand up straight, and when the waiter tried to help him on with his jacket Max blustered, saying that he’d rather carry it, thank you very much, and backed out of the restaurant with the garment draped over his cock. It was less obvious to the casual observer, but I was pretty stoked, too—I was totally soaking at the thought of what we were going to do, apprehensive that I would actually pull it off, and wildly turned on by the hard-on that I could see straining against the fly of Max’s trousers. When he did come he was going to shoot so much spunk into my hole that his balls would be completely drained.

Instead of turning right at the crossroads, I took a sharp left.

“Where are you taking me?” said Max.

“I’ve left something at work,” I said, trying not to let my voice betray my excitement. Max looked disappointed. Hanging around in my shop obviously wasn’t his idea of a sexy surprise.

We got to the store, and I stood outside the window, looking at the bed on display, wondering if Max would figure out what I had planned. The window display I’d lovingly created looked even more impressive than it did by day: dramatic black-and-white bed in a ruby red room, kitsch and 1960s in style, lit by a few retro spotlights.