This is another story I wrote under the name of Newforester. It was issued quite a few years ago, but now I write under the name of Rockycoveboy, and so I hope you enjoy it second time around.
*****
The glass of red wine had only a few drops left round the bottom as it rested on the wooden, bedside table, only a little candle on a saucer on the table throwing a dim light round the room. The dark, red bottle which had contained the French wine was completely empty but only two or three inches of the neck was on view--the rest of the bottle led into the soft, pink walls of Karen's vagina where it was completely embedded, her fingers toying with the neck as she moved the instrument around very slowly, not wanting to bring herself to orgasm just yet.
She had all the time in the world, it was a dark November evening, she had no plans, and she wanted to remember that morning in all its detail before bringing herself to a body-shaking climax. Karen held the neck of the bottle firmly with one hand as the fingers of her other hand played with her clit, rubbing hard and then gently pulling at her cunt lips and blonde pubic hair, and occasionally grabbing at the bottle with both hands and thrusting in and out hard for a few seconds, just climbing up to the orgasm but stopping only seconds before she reached the top, teasing herself and prolonging the pleasure.
Time and difficulty, and wonderful pleasure, had been taken to move the bottle slowly through the entrance to her cunt and, bit by glorious bit, ease it up inside herself, stretching the soft, wet walls of her insides until Karen could push no further and she was completely full.
Anybody entering her bedroom now, would have been treated to one of the most erotic sights imaginable--this 24 year old woman on her back with her eyes closed, her maroon, leather skirt rucked right up round her waist. The suspenders were tight across the tops of her thighs, and they held up sheer black nylons with a maroon, high heeled sandal on each foot, and as she lay, her legs were wide apart, bent right up, her feet were off the blanket as she beautifully indulged herself.
Karen still had on a tight white jumper but her breasts were quite distinct as they heaved up and down, obviously being held in place by a shapely bra under the jumper, and her longish blonde hair moved on the pillows as her head went from side to side through the excitement of her own teasing. The minute panties had long been discarded and Karen was in complete sexual abandonment, as she moved the weapon around inside her, the finger on her clit stopping and starting and the hand round the neck of the bottle pushing momentarily in and then stopping to let the feeling wash through her.
'God,' she thought, 'this is absolutely wonderful. Oh my God, it's coming, it's getting nearer all the time, yes, yes, ohhhhhh yeeeees,' and she thrust the last few strokes and then had to stop as she was totally overcome by the orgasm that moved out from her vagina, and went all along her nervous system to reach the outermost parts of her body.
Karen Small remembered that morning at the hands of the two Doctors at the Medical Centre where she worked as a part-time receptionist, and every so often she lay in the privacy of her bedroom and remembered the events in exact detail. Almost always she brought herself to a wonderful climax after the slow, gentle caress of her own body, using whatever means were at her disposal at the given time. There was no doubt about it, she was stunningly attractive with longish blonde hair, firm and full breasts, a tight arse and long, long, shapely legs.
She was also a very fortunate woman although it had come about through terrible tragedy--her parents had died together in a plane crash when she was 18, but they had left Karen and her brother a substantial sum of money each--about £300,000 each. Daddy had inherited and then sold acres of land round the country, and had ended up himself a very rich man, and his death had made Karen a wealthy young woman.
There were conditions attached, however, and Karen only received £50,000 at the time of her parents' death, the rest to be inherited when she reached 25. She had married and divorced by the time she was 22, after she had realised that her 'husband' was just 'gold-digging,' and when her older brother had decided to emigrate to South Africa with his inheritance, Karen, for the last two years or so, had been on her own.
She had decided to make a fresh start, get a little job for herself, and enjoy life until she was 25, when she could think about buying herself the wonderful country house that she had always dreamed of. She was well-off anyway, and had used some of the initial 50 grand to make sure she always had a nice car, smart and sexy clothes, nice holidays, and she had rented a superb 2 bedroom flat in the little village she had moved to.
Little Budding was only a tiny village in the heart of East Anglia, but it was pretty, and Karen had been attracted by its solitude and the fact that a little river ran along the bottom of the garden where the 4 flats were situated. She had one of the top two flats, the veranda overlooking the lawn, trees and the river flowing by. A private garage on the forecourt went with the flat, and Karen had decided that this was idyllic and would be home for a while--all she needed was a little job to keep her active and she would be content for the time being.
She had worked at the Medical Centre for about a year and loved it--nothing too strenuous, just part-time, 8 'til 12, Mondays to Fridays, and an occasional Saturday morning, and it was only about 20 minutes drive away from the flat, towards the next bigger town, so it was ideal.
She enjoyed meeting, and chatting with, all the different patients, and the company of her fellow receptionist, and the 5 Doctors who ran the Centre on a rota system. It also gave her the opportunity, if she was in the mood, to show off her superb figure to the mainly older clientele, as well as brighten up the Doctors on duty. She knew she looked good and very often the tight, white, button-up coat that came with the job would be worn with only her underwear on underneath. Her proud breasts would jutt out admirably, and her shapely legs looked incredibly firm and enticing if she left the bottom button of the white coat undone, giving a glimpse of her thighs as she moved around the surgery, or sat at her desk behind the counter.
Karen always felt raunchy when she was dressed this way, knowing that the eyes of the waiting room were following her around as her high heels trit-trotted across the floor, and if there were younger men visiting the Doctor, it would give Karen an extra thrill, her panties regularly becoming moist.
It had been a normal morning, the sun shining through the window of the Centre with Karen updating the records on the computer of patients who had been in during the last couple of days. She chatted and joked with people as they moved in and out of the surgery, and then suddenly it dawned on her--she had wiped all the records of patients from P to Z from the computer memory.
Try as she could with all the buttons, and even with the help of her colleague, she knew that the records were irretrievable, and she had committed a gaff that she couldn't get away with. She carried on in a haze for the rest of the morning--there were manual cards for all the patients but it meant hours of work to transfer them onto the computer and even then the cards did not necessarily contain all the up to date information--What a bloody cock-up!!
Doctor Rodney Smith was the Duty Doctor for that morning and there was no way that the balls up could be kept from him, and sure enough, at the end of the morning, Karen was called into his surgery. All the doctors had a computer terminal in their respective rooms, and Karen looked suitably embarrassed as she opened the door to enter Doctor Smith's office.
'Well Miss Small, (he usually addressed her as Karen, so it must be serious) This is a fine mess you've got the surgery into--what were you playing at?'
'I'm sorry, Doctor, I'm really sorry, it was an accident, I don't know how it happened,' Karen mumbled as she stood to attention with her head bowed. 'I'll get them all back onto the computer as soon as I can--I'll just carry on working until it's all done. I'm really sorry.'
Rodney Smith was in his late 50s, tall and handsome, with lovely silver hair, broad shoulders and always immaculately dressed in smart dark suits or sports jacket and trousers. He was always the perfect gentleman and Karen very often dreamt about him inviting her to dinner or to the theatre, but he never had, and had always kept any contact on a professional level. She didn't know what his home life was like at all, although she was aware that he was married, but that's all she knew. More to the point right now, though--was he going to sack her for such incompetence.
'Miss Small, I'm not very happy with this and neither will the other Doctors be when they find out, but I am not going to make a decision now on what action to take--I'm sending you home now, but I want you to be here at the surgery at 7o'clock tomorrow morning sharp--by then I will have spoken with the others and decided what action, if any, is necesssary. Do you understand?'
'Yes Doctor, I'm really very sorry.'
Karen did not need the money, she was nearly 25 and soon to be very rich, but she liked the job, the people and the friends she had made, and wanted to stay if she could. It was no use worrying anymore, she thought, as she drove back to the flat--Rodney Smith would either sack her or she could stay on, there was nothing else he could do---was there!!
It was still warm on this late September morning and the sun shone down onto her as she had the hood down on the car. Karen had bought herself a new Ford Escort cabriolet about six months ago and she loved it--it was bright yellow with a black hood, a powerful engine and all the latest mod cons., and everybody knew who it was as she drove through the village or rolled into the car park at the surgery.
After her session at the gym in the evening, Karen thought about the following morning--she would need an early night in order to be up early and she decided to appeal to Doctor Smith's masculinity--after all he was only human and couldn't fail to have some sympathy with an attractive young woman who had committed human error--we all make mistakes, she thought. She would make sure she looked at her best in the morning.
She was up and in the shower at six and then she dressed--a short leather jacket over a gleaming white shirt and a black, tight skirt almost to her knees. She didn't always wear high heels to the surgery but she would do this morning, a black pair, to accentuate her knees and calves, and of course underneath she put on her black stockings, suspenders and flimsy, minute underwear--she wanted to feel good as well as look good.
She set off in the Cabriolet with a little trepidation, after all it might be her last journey into the surgery, but the morning was quite sunny again and she did feel proud of how she looked and felt. As she walked through the front door into the Medical Centre, just before seven, it was eerily still and quiet, only two other cars in the car park and, of course, no patients for another hour.
