Dina Ch 01 1

She came out and called me in from the front area. I didn't catch her name. I suppose I could have read her little badge, but my eyesight is too bad, even with my glasses on, to read a moving target like that, jiggling on huge yummy breasts. "Thanks for getting me out of that waiting room," I said. She was a lively, I believe, Latina, or perhaps Filipina. She couldn't have topped farther than the nipples on my chest, but I'm 6'4", so maybe 4"5', 4'6"? Her figure could best be described as roly-poly. Taken as a whole, she was completely delightful. Suddenly, my starvation morning had become iridescent.

"Yeah, but do you have coffee?" she asked, even though she could see that I didn't.

"Sorry," I said.

"Crap, struck out again. Have you had coffee?" she asked.

"I think this is a fasting thing," I said.

"Non-fasting," she said. Then she looked at the piece of paper. "Oh right, fasting. Ha, well it's on the bar codes."

"What were you going to do, drain it out of me?" I joked.

"Well, I have all the tools," she looked up at me mischievously. I could imagine her smile under the mask.

"Should I run away now?" I asked.

"Come into my lair," she said. "Just there to the left." She followed me in.

Even sitting down, I towered over her. "I have to warn you that I can be hard to get blood from," I said. "They usually have to poke me twice."

"Not a problem for me if it's not a problem for you," she joked. "I can go all day," she said more suggestively.

"My veins are... deceptive," I said.

"Deceptive," she repeated, savoring the word. Her eyes danced.

"Worse yet, I've been working out," I said.

"I can see that," she said, her tiny hand resting on my bicep. "Now make a fist." The little rubber constriction band she'd tied around my arm popped off and went flying. She fretted for only a moment and then pulled out another one.

I had to see her face. "Look, I've been vaccinated, and I bet you've been vaccinated, so can we drop the masks?"

"You want to see under my mask, eh?" she said.

"Pretty please." I whipped my vaccination card out of my wallet to show her.

"You're right, I've been vaccinated," she said. We took our masks off. I immediately felt the urge to kiss her. Passionately. And I'm married and sixty years old. And she was perhaps mid-twenties? She looked like one of those professionals that didn't have the time to date. Maybe in medical school. And then there was Covid. We matched smiles and she brightened further. It looked like she wanted to be kissed. I guess she liked my kind smile and cleft chin. The moment passed.

"So do you have a card for... ha ha," she raised her eyebrows and then turned away quickly. She was worried, perhaps, she'd crossed the line, even though in good fun.

"Frankly, I never thought I'd get as lucky as I feel in this moment," I said.

She turned back around and looked at me skeptically, then smiled slightly when she saw I was earnest and not just joking. She looked determined then, like she was going to make it happen.

"I can see what you mean about your veins being deceptive," she said. "Let's try your other arm and the mosquito needle."

"Knock yourself out," I said.

"Well, I'm having fun," she smiled.

"Me, too, actually," I said. "I hope you keep missing so I can stay."

"You're going to give me bad luck," she said, looking up at me fixedly, kinda provocatively.

"We can't have that," I breathed.

She jammed in the needle. "See the splash?" she said. There was blood in the little plastic entrance to the needle. "With these, I can tell whether I hit the vein." She started to fill her vials. "It's a lot slower, though."

"So I get to be here longer with you," I said contentedly. She turned away a little uncomfortably then locked eyes with me again.

She pulled out the needle and asked, "Do you want a band-aid?"

"Please no," I said. "The adhesive is the worst part." Keeping my finger on the tiny wound, I raised my arm above my head.

"That's how I know I've got a veteran blood donor," she said. "Raising the arm above the head."

The bleeding had stopped on the other one, too. I tore the bandage off it, and bent way over to throw it in her trash. "Look," I said. Our faces were close. Her eyes closed. That was a yes. I kissed her gently, then more firmly. Then we got a little sloppy. I didn't care, it felt liberating. Her little mouth, tasting faintly of toothpaste, electrified me. She broke the kiss and furtively looked towards the hallway. I was reminded we were in the middle of a busy medical clinic. In an alcove, surely, but still. There was no door on the alcove.

I found I must have idly picked up a container from her work table. It looked like one of those little containers for a side of coleslaw or potato salad. Sometimes I fidget with things without even noticing. "I'm sorry," I said, "I touched this." I put it back down.

"I gave that to you," she said.

"You did? Well... thank you," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"It's a urine sample container," she said.

"Oh no," I said. "The reason I'm such a good programmer is that I can sit still for twelve hours. I feel this is a dubious endeavor."

"Don't worry," she said. "Everything will be fine." We stepped into the hallway. "Sit here, and when that door opens, there's the bathroom."

"Okay, I'll try," I said.

She went to talk to her coworker, a tall dark black woman with beautiful dreadlocks. "I'm going on break," the black lady said down the hall. A man stepped out of the bathroom and walked off down the hall. I stood to go towards the available bathroom.

I stopped and watched my roly-poly testing lady shut and lock the hallway door. "I'll help you," she said. She took my hand, walked me into the quite spacious bathroom, and shut and locked the door. Everything was very clean. Now there were two doors and a long hallway between us and everyone else in the clinic.

She pulled off her pants and panties quickly. I didn't know quite what was happening, so I followed suit. I put the seat down on the very clean toilet and sat her down on it, got on my haunches. Luckily, being a lifelong martial artist, even at sixty, I'm pretty stretchy. A good thing, because given I weigh 250, my knees directly on linoleum over concrete is not a happy thing. But I got comfortable enough for a long stay. She didn't really need it. I wanted it badly. She was sloppy and fragrant. Had I been responsible for all this? Well, why not? I didn't want to overthink. She grabbed my hair as I dove in.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled me back by the hair. She'd been moaning with pleasure and orgasming some, but hadn't yet had a big one as far as I could tell. Her eyes were fierce, though. "Get up. My turn," she said.

I stood up. Creak. Okay, okay. "I don't need it," I said. Unusual, but untouched, I was hard with desperate lust for her just from being with her, smelling and tasting her.

"Me neither," she said, and choked down my cock delightedly. It felt like an act of real love and enjoyment, too, like my cunnilingus undoubtedly had. Of worship.

"Are you willing to?" I stammered. Reading my mind, she produced a condom. Swiftly and gently, it was on. It felt good, too. Not too tight. High quality. She met my eyes with an electric gaze and stood up. We kind of danced for a moment, trying to figure out how this was all going to work.

She ended up kneeling on the counter and straddling the bathroom sink. This turned out to be fortuitous, or perhaps planned, because she was a wet one. She held onto the faucet and had one cheek against the mirror. With her knees far apart, her tiny cunny was at just the right height.

Her ass was truly massive. I pushed into her easily. She was snappy tight, but so wet and gooey. Her fat ass held me off, tantalizingly. I wanted in more. Desperately in. I'm very strong. Holding her ass cheeks apart firmly with my hands, I began to slam into her. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! With force, I was getting fully into her.

I stopped for a breath. "This isn't too hard, is it?"

"Nuh-huh-uh," she muttered back to me. It sounded like she was lost in bliss. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! It was very gratifying, but I felt like I was going to cum too quickly. I slowed down and firmly thrust into her, for a while, really feeling her. I couldn't get in as far, but it was good. "Fuck me," she moaned, so it was back to Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

It was faster than I like, but she was so electric to be with. So perfect, out of the blue. Once I was truly in her, she was tauter than I'd had in many years and wetter than anyone I'd ever had. She was slippery, slidey, gripping, and I was going to finish. Her fat thighs and pudenda were stroking me on the way out. Her tight tiny hole was clenching me wetly on the way in. She was wet, practically splashing.

It had been longer than a sprint, but shorter than a marathon. It was going to be, like, a 1320. I was breathing hard, putting my life into it. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

She made a moaning sound, like "Huh-uuuh." I couldn't tell if it was an orgasm because I was fucking her so hard. Or maybe it was the condom. "Okay," I surrendered.

"Okay?" she repeated, confused. "Uh-huh..."

SMACK! That made her grunt. I locked into her tightly, and for the second time, I think, in my whole life, I ejaculated into a condom. Having been almost entirely in monogamous relationships since the age of fifteen, condoms are a rare hassle. Most are way too tight, and the big ones are a bit baggy. This one was good, though. I was fixed, so she wouldn't have gotten pregnant. But I got it. The negatives of STDs are a little much to risk for a testing clinic quickie. Plus, she was a medical professional. Being safe about such things was integral to her character.

"Oh God, oh Jesus," she said. It felt so good just to have my hands on her. Her expression, resting against the mirror, was cryptic. I was getting soft, and I was worried the condom would fall off. I slid out of her with a splash of her juices. The condom hadn't broken. I grabbed the rim with my fingers. She was literally dripping her juice into the sink.

"Did you have fun?" I ventured.

"Yes, okay," she still seemed a bit disoriented.

I caught myself wondering how frequent an occurrence this was for her, then put it out of my mind. Way to cheapen the moment, self.

She paused. "I'll just go into the sink, okay?"

I didn't know quite what she was talking about, but, "Okay."

A trickle, then a strong stream, then a hiss of urine that could tear the paint off the side of a house splashed into the sink. It was some young, fresh-smelling pee that reminded me of how young she was, albeit a few too many Doritos. She climbed off the counter. "Now it's your turn," she said.

I stammered, "I don't think I can..."

"Nonsense," she said, "Everybody can pee after sex. It's natural." She gripped my limp penis gently but firmly and led me over to the toilet. She opened it. Her gentle but firm grip was electric, and I was getting hard again. About halfway hard, she said, "Do it."

It was especially difficult with her holding it like that. I'd never done anything like it. But I did want to do it for her. A validation of her delightful nature and hard work, perhaps. Suddenly, I felt it. There was a trickle. Then a stream. She magically produced the cup and held it into the stream for a moment. It splashed a little. I finished my stream into the toilet. She let me go and sealed the container. I was harder now.

Like she read my mind, she said, "You're pretty feisty for..." she stopped there. She would never call me on old man just like I'd never call her a fat girl. What did those attributes mean about anything except perhaps make things a little more interesting, a little more challenging?

We washed hands, got dressed, and came back out into the hallway. I leaned way down and we kissed slowly, deeply, longingly. "I have to unlock now," she said. That was goodbye.

"Can I call you?" I asked.

"You're sweet," she said, "and married." She said it with finality. "And I never get out of this place anyway." She was trying to be nice about it. Don't bug me, old man.

"Well, you have my number if you change your mind," I said. It was right there on my intake form. She unlocked the gate, and I didn't look back.

(The end?)