My name is Mike. I'm 50, married with two small kids and a beautiful 26-year-old wife, Ashley. She is a stay at home mom. We live in a gated community outside of Las Vegas. Our home is a sprawling 3500 sq. foot colonial. My career affords us every luxury. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention my knockout wife
was
employed in this town at one time as an exotic entertainer. That was before I swept her off her feet so to speak. To describe it more accurately . . . that was before I lifted her feet up in the air and we came face to pussy in my office. I am Dr. Mike Harris, gynecologist.
I'm a good doctor. I've tried to handle my practice in a very professional manner. My workplace motto is not, 'look but don't touch,' like at Ashley's former strip club. It is more like, 'look, touch but don't lick,' around here. Ashley was the only patient that I ever came on to. I have to admit I love women and I love looking at them daily. Ashley is very liberal, being a stripper and all, so she doesn't mind that I spend most of my time feeling up assorted women and 'molesting' their mounds. She says that she even gets excited when I describe my daily dabblings!
Back in June I saw a new patient, Rachel Collins. She was pretty, yet unremarkable . . . except for one thing. When I looked at her information chart, I was surprised to see that she had just moved in a few houses down from me. I felt awkward about telling her. So after the sit-down in my office I figured I'd just better continue with the exam. I could still be professional about it! Anyway, in this day and age with the crazy work hours everybody keeps (in order to afford the grand homes we live in) you never really get to know your neighbors. I thought this would be the case.
Rachel was a petite thing, and of course she was fairly nervous about the exam. I fully understood and expected this. She was slightly younger than my wife. Her skin was milky white and her hair was a mass of tangerine curls. Her breasts were perky B-cups. Mrs. Collins' soft nipples hardened under my examination. I think she was embarrassed by this. I told her I knew the room was a bit too cold that day. I thought that excuse might let her feel a little more at ease.
Then it was time for the inevitable; the pelvic exam. I made some silly chit chat about my kids, my cats and the weather. But let's face it, while a woman is lying, practically restrained with her legs spread and her bare vulva fully exposed in some stranger's face, nothing can really get her ready and relaxed for that violation.
Rachel's mons was full of little red ringlets. In this day and age it is an oddity to see an unshaved delta. Even the 18 year olds I get to inspect come in with designer wax jobs. And here in Vegas it is common to see grandmas with bare twats. Back when I was married to my first wife, you were a pervert if you wanted your woman to 'go bare down there' . . . as if you had a fetish. I'm really happy for that societal change. There is nothing like a pretty, fleshy pussy staring back at you (several times) during the day. And if Mrs. Collins shaved or waxed her bush it would make a striking hot pink contrast to her porcelain skin!
I continued the routine of my exam: checking the folds of her labia, delicately inspecting her clitoris which had started to swell and entering her internally with my fingers. Her genitals all checked out okay. I'm sure the Pap test would be fine also. You see, during the course of her consultation, Rachel confessed that she hadn't had much sexual experience. In fact, Brent Collins her husband, was her first lover and she was a newlywed.
She also confided she was having difficulty in the pleasure department. I assured her it was normal for a woman not to come during intercourse and it might take some practice with petting, oral sex and possibly some self stimulation to help her along. Rachel was mortified at that thought. I found it hard to believe that she had never touched herself and from the sound of it, her husband was assuming that fucking her was the only thing he had to do to satisfy her.
I gave her a reading list and suggested that she and her husband open their minds and eyes to the sights and activities this town had to offer . . . if you know what I mean. I think she left my office a little enlightened. I hope so at least. I feel that is part of my job.
Well as I thought, months went by and I never ran into my new neighbors. With work, various social activities, and fun with the wife, there is hardly any room in the day for block parties. That was until October . . . when there was one! In all honestly, I had forgotten about my neighbor/patient and I'm embarrassed to admit I had a hard time remembering what she looked like. (Although I probably could pick her pussy out of a police line up.)
It seems the neighborhood association organizes quarterly newcomer gatherings and Ashley was begging to go to the next one. I guess being stuck at home with the twins (No! Not her 38DD implants, our 3-year-old boys!) left her craving for some adult interaction. I agreed, not even cognizant that my new acquaintance might attend.
I imagine it was the furthest thing from Rachel Collin's mind that evening. How could she even conceive that the only other man to get up close and personal with her privates was living four doors down and across the street? And the intimate details she shared with me, as her physician that day, probably made the moment she spotted me even more unnerving.
There must have been 15 couples attending this get-together at the clubhouse. I knew a few of them on a first name basis. It was mostly a group of older men with trophy wives that seemed to gravitate to this area of the country. I think we were all living out our mid life crises in this land of silicone and cigars. The 'new' guy caught my eye. He was about 10 years younger that the rest of us gents. I noticed his tiny wife sheepishly duck behind him several times during the evening. I grabbed Ashley by the arm and told her it was time she made a new friend.
"Hey, we are Mike and Ashley Harris, are you newcomers?" I asked.
"Brent Collins," he said as he extended his hand," and yes my wife Rachel and I moved here a few months ago."
I didn't recognize the name and at first I couldn't distinguish her face as she stood in his shadow. But then she stepped away into the light and there were those creamsicle curls and blanched complexion. I was ever the gentleman at the moment of introduction and didn't let on but I could tell she knew who I was.
There was the usual getting to know you conversation amongst the four of us. I only described my profession as doctor. Brett was a lawyer and Rachel was a nursery school teacher. They had just moved from Utah and Vegas was a bit of a culture shock. The girls hit it off immediately. I knew Rachel and I could get over the hurdle of our unspoken first meeting.
By the next day, I realized that our initial contact wasn't undisclosed at all. Evidently, when Rachel and Brent got home that evening she spilled the beans to her husband. They arrived at my door around noon. Brent explained that they hoped to continue their new-found friendship. Of course, I replied that I was above letting a trite matter interfere with our becoming friends. I explained that it is difficult to recall all of my patients but I would always honor her privacy and I could certainly move on in our relationship. I let her know that I could refer her to another gynecologist if she wanted.
That conversation loosened any tension between Rachel and me during our subsequent social visits. We shared dinner with the Collins' both at our place and theirs. The wives spent plenty of time together. Brent & Rachel babysat for the boys a time or two. We guys had become quite chummy-meeting at the gym weekly. I was making an effort to set aside time for our new friends.
However, the more I thought about it the more I felt sorry for poor ole' Brent. I never really got to know any husband of the women I had examined. I wracked my brain trying to come up with something that would possibly make it up to him and then I hatched a plan. I asked Brent to go out for a beer with me after work. He agreed and decided to meet at my office one Tuesday. I was running a bit behind as usual. My receptionist had him wait in my office.
I wonder if he was speculating what was going on in the room just beyond. I finished performing a pelvic on one of the many Nevada 'working girls.' And my next patient was a stripper friend of Ashley's, 'Dominatrix Double D.' I just called her Trixie.
I stepped into my office between the two appointments and offered Brent a swig from my private stock. I kept a stainless flask of Scotch on hand for the rough days. I told him he should get loosened up a bit before his payback began. He was still in the dark about my plan. I tossed Brent a crisp white lab coat and told him he was going to assist me in this next exam. The shock of what I offered him literally threw him back a few feet.
