The Maing of Medicimbee

"Okay everyone let's take a look at Chapter 1."

The EMT class for new members was a joint effort between the local community college and the fire department. Many of the instructors were also Lieutenants, Captains and Chiefs. Our EMT instructor Bobby Traine was no exception. He was a paramedic and a Lieutenant in the EMS division and while not like most of the fire guys, he was a paramedic-nurse, and more interested in the medical stuff than the firefighting.

He was also very cocky intellectually, probably because he felt he had to make up for the inadequacy of the fire hierarchy's estimation of the EMS side of the house. In any case it wasn't going particularly well. The fact is I have never been much of a scholar. I suppose it is because of the way I was raised. I don't like admitting this but money and not education were a priority with my mom and older half-sister. My mother was an exotic dancer. Now I know what you might think. Mom was, and yes, my sister did it as well, and so yeah when I was old enough it was why I got into it too. I mean, there was no father. It was just the three of us. My mom was making a lot of money, and it was all based on looks. I really hate admitting it, as much because of how utterly white trashy it probably sounds. It is, unfortunately, an unsavory truth.

It is also why, early on in school I believed that I didn't need to learn to study or apply myself, and there was no one at home in the evenings to make sure I did my homework. I mean my mom and then later my older sister were working so I never developed any academic skills.

Now I needed help.

Sitting in the classroom in my "recruit" t shirt, that despite what I had requested seemed a size too small and tight, and in my BDUs, or fatigue style pants and service boots, I looked like any other basic trainee. Well, almost, I mean I had intentionally dialed down my makeup, in fact I had on almost none, and my hair was pulled back in a ponytail style twist that was held in place by a clip, but in a t shirt that small, with a simple sports bra on underneath, my chest stood out in a way that screamed anything but intellectual. Even worse, my perpetually knobbed nipples made it look like I was freezing or turned on. I wasn't, it was just a side effect from my boobjob, but of course no one would buy that, if they even if they gave me the benefit of the doubt.

The schoolwork was very interesting but it wasn't easy. I knew I was going to struggle. I looked up and saw Bobby looking at me. As usual his gaze was directed lower than my face. To my great surprise and slight alarm, I found that it just made my knobs pop out even more so. Folding my arms over my chest I looked back down at the textbook.

"Okay, everyone. Have scene safety completed by tomorrow and we'll quiz on that in the morning." He glanced in my direction and then away, I suppose so as not show he was speaking especially about me. "If any of you are having difficulty and need some additional guidance or help feel free to schedule some office time or just see me after class."

That was me for sure. I had already all but failed the first evaluation. Not because I didn't know the material. I just... froze on a test. I could know the stuff inside and out but, it was all in the way I read a question. I just blew even the answers I knew to be right.

Dawdling on purpose so that all the others would be gone I headed toward his desk. I was embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to know I was doing so badly. It was already awful enough that so many knew the story about my arrest at the stripclub, and about my washing the trucks in next to nothing. I just couldn't bear for them to think I was an idiot and that all I brought to the department was a pair of 34DD tits and a nearly shaved pussy.

"Hi Kim, did you need something?" said Bobby pleasantly.

I nodded, reddening a little.

"Yes," I almost whispered. "You know I didn't do very well on the exam."

He looked away for a second as if embarrassed for me. "Yeah, it could have been better."

"I'm not an idiot," I reacted. I just really didn't want the bimbo label.

"No, I know you're not."

"I mean when you ask me questions, I give the right answer," I offered.

"Yeah, I noticed. You do know the material. I can see that."

That wasn't all he could see. He was glancing at my big boobs again.

"It's just when I read the test question. I mean the pressure of a test, I guess. I mean is there any way I could take the test with you just asking the questions?"

"you mean like an oral exam?" he said.

It wasn't suggestive or dirty at all. But somehow with all I had done, to get out of probation and into the department and the EMT class, it still really bothered me. I felt humiliated and my nipples stood out like crazy.

"Yeah, well, I mean I guess so," I said.

It was a condition of my suspension of probation that I had to matriculate, to get through the class and work for the department for a year. Frankly, I was desperate. He looked like he was considering it. There is nothing that says I can't do it but the final is a written. No getting around that. It goes to the National Registry.

I looked rocked by that. "Could you help me? Please?"

The pleading I suppose had some tone that really worked with him and he looked a little red in the face himself. "Uh well, uh Kim. I mean my time is really limited."

"Please Bobby... Mr. Traine. Sorry," I said.

"I don't know. I don't want to overcommit and then you know, not be able to make good on my promise."

I was getting the sneaking feeling that he was playing with me now. It was just a hunch, but I couldn't risk flunking out and having to deal with that judge again.

"I'd really be grateful. I mean I'd do whatever it took to justify your effort and help."

I wanted to just shrink into the floor. I mean, I might as well have just flashed him and said I'll do anything your perverse little mind can come up with. From the way he looked, he thought the same thing. At the same time a sudden and obvious bulge in his pants announced itself with involuntary authority.

Bobby was a slender guy, about 5-9 and 150 pounds, built like a runner. He shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his prominent erection ad then again at my disproportionate chest.

"Whatever it took?" he sort of stammered.

We both knew where this was going.

"Yes," said looking away.

"Well, I mean we would have to spend time together. You know if I tutored you and worked with you on improving your test taking. I, uh, was going to get a pizza and just head home," he said. "My ex and I have been separated for a few months and well, you could come over, we could eat, and you know..."

He was suggesting a date of sorts. The bulge in his pants showed that he probably had been on a good few month dry spell sexually. I suspected that once back at his place, the tutoring would probably extend to certain other things. Still, I had no choice.

"Uh sure," I said smiling that well practiced professional smile like I so often wore back at the club.

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"So what is it you are having the most trouble with exactly?"

Both the pizza and a bottle of cheap wine were almost entirely gone and after the obligatory small talk and gawking looks when he thought I wasn't paying attention, Bobby was finally getting to reason I had come over. Not too coincidentally, his social restraint had gone down in direct proportion to the prominence of the tent in his slacks and his disinhibition about looking me over.

"I just get so nervous. I can't even read and make sense of material I know that I know cold."

"Hmm," he mused, looking right at my knobs. "You know what they say is good for nerves?"

"What is that?" I asked knowing full well where he was going.

"Expended nervous energy."

"Uh huh," I said trying not to sound dismissive.

"It's true." He seemed to pick up on my incredulity. "Well, maybe let's try a test. "

"What do you have in mind?"

"This." He reached into his backpack and pulled out a sample test. "I want you to take a test."

"Right now?"

"Mm, hm," he said. "I'll time you and then after what I have in mind, you'll take another one. Same pressures and everything. If it works like I think it will and you score better on the next one. We go with that as part of our plan. Agreed?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I guess," I said, feeling a little off due to the wine.

"Okay." He got up and walked over to pick up a stopwatch. Something about that seemed to exert a sudden incapacitating rush of academic anxiety. I looked down at the test. "And go," he said clicking the watch.

I was paralyzed. This was easy stuff, I knew, but I was literally incapacitated. When after 15 minutes he stopped me, I had only gotten through half the test and I was pretty sure I had at least half wrong.

"Now what?" I said miserably embarrassed.

"Now come with me," he said taking me by the hand.

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The major thing that bothered me about his bedroom was not the unmade bed or the discarded pair of socks in one corner, it was the camcorder that was sitting on the chest of drawers directly opposite the bed.

"Uh, Mr. Traine," I started to say looking right at it with apprehension.

He picked up on my concern.

"Oh, don't worry. You know, that is just for me. After. I mean, I am separated and well, watching the replay would be perfect for"--he chuckled--"inspiration." Then he made a slight masturbatory motion with his hand and grinned.

I was still struggling with the idea of the camera as he started to undress. One rule I had always maintained when I was with a guy was no photographs, as almost all of them had wanted to take pics. Now though, I looked from the camera to him, to it again and just started to undress. It was like I was starting to find myself just complying with someone's expectation... again. As I pulled my t shirt off, I saw that he was already down to his underwear. He had on these little bikini style underpants and I could see from the very detailed outline of his hard cock that the bulge evidenced earlier was not an overestimation. The big circumcised head was a perfect prow to the thick shaft. He was big enough that if it hadn't been trapped under the elastic waistband and swelled off to one side it would have been half out of his shorts.

I reached down and unfastened my pants and pushed them down and off. Now I was just in my thong and sports bra.

"I guess you like what you see too," he said.

He was referring to my knobby nipples that were stretching the fabric. I didn't even try to explain the condition that was always there after my surgery. So, I just replied, "Oh...yes. I do."

His cock actually tensed and swelled a little at that.

"I could tell there was chemistry," he said happily.

I reached down and hauled off the tight sports bra, letting the girls go free.

"Oh my God," he gasped and as if in a physical reply, pulled his bikinis off allowing a substantially above average cock to tower up from his crotch.

Now, if there is one thing you can tell about a guy and how he will be in bed, it's how he grooms. Not saying if he doesn't that he won't be aggressive and bullish and wild, but if he grooms, especially if it is kind of porno-contemporary, he is going to want a lot. Bobby Traine's pubic hair had been edged and clipped to a sort of tightly cut manscaped presentation right above his cock, but the shaft, his balls and behind was hairless. I got that perspective when he turned and bent over to move his clothes out of the way. I was just taking off my panties when he turned back.

"Oh, I love how you groom," he said staring right at my just visible bald labia as his cock went to a throbbing, slightly arched, incredibly turgid vertical position.

"Thank you," I said lamely with just a hint of submissive compliance.

The tone surprised me. I was not some sub, at least I hadn't been before, but my situation and the sort of sexual activity I'd had of late, had done something to me. I might have thought more about that and been upset, but just then Bobby was turning around to power up the camera and to aim it at the bed and me.

"Hey, uhm, I know you are a dancer, which I think is just great," he started.

I looked at him, dreading what was coming.

"So maybe dance some for the camera, you know, real sexy."

I blinked and swallowed hard. I couldn't refuse him, so I started a sort of slow strut and sway. In truth, exotic "dance" isn't really dancing. It is just moving around topless, or in my case now, entirely nude, and strutting shaking, swaying and bending so the guys can look. Trying to ignore a permanent recording of my performance I did it just as he directed. His cock stayed ridiculously hard the entire time.

"That turns you on, doesn't it?" he said enthusiastically.

I knew the answer he wanted.

"Oh yes," I said.

"Well, why don't you just go ahead and lie down on the bed and show me how you take care of yourself."

I paused. Pics were one thing. Dancing nude on camera was worse, but what he was telling me to do now was full on porn. To jill myself off on camera was so intimate and personal and such a huge line to cross. Plus, I was being told to do it. Told. If I obeyed it would show that I could be bossed around sexually and who knew where it would end. Even so, a kind of self-betraying helplessness had come over me. I was in that bedroom naked because I had accepted a social labeling and...so...

I sat down on the bed and scootched back facing the camera.

"Go ahead and lie back," he said. "Open your legs up so I can get a good shot."

Surrendering, I did as he directed. I spread my legs knowing I was giving a very explicit, completely hairless, perineal view. Then closing my eyes, I reached down, and gently touching where my sensitive labia came together, I began a little circular rub.

"Oh yes!" he exhorted. It was evident that he was getting off to my little personal sex show, and since I was masturbating, so was I.

A little gasp escaped me as I licked my lips and I pulled back the tender cover hiding my clitoris. The cool air made it even more responsive as I gave it a slight strum with my fingertips. My mouth fell open and a soft acquiescent sigh breathed out as I arched my back slightly and my other hand went up to pull on a nipple. Trying not to think about the camera recording it all, I started to writhe and hump at the air.

Even so I knew, I could escape the knowledge that all of it, every dirty private detail, was being shared forever with the lens of his camera.

"Ohhhh," I moaned as Bobby zoomed in for the most personal moment a girl can have.

My back was arching completely now as the undeniable conclusion of all the shame, helplessness, objectification, stimulation and intense sexuality came together somewhere in the very center of my being. A potent, throbbing, increasing rhythm aligned with the stroke and pressure of my hand against my clit and was joined by my other hand slipping two fingers into my pussy to press and drag against my g spot. Within seconds it all came together in a white hot fusing of the new elements associated with my humiliation and the incredibly explosive orgasm.

I thrashed and bucked as it broke over me again and again. Finally, when enough conscious focus returned, I heard Bobby chuckling.

"Oh man this is perfect."

Another surge of embarrassment linked into the powerful release. I was cumming undeniably as a result of the compelled, humiliating, submissive direction. There was no way that could now be uncoupled. I didn't have much time to analyze that because Bobby was placing the camera on the chest so that it was aimed at the bed. Then entering the frame himself, he climbed up on the bed with his big waggling penis.

"Go ahead and move so you are in profile," he directed like some horny nude lame-assed Spielberg.

Swinging a leg over my head, he and assumed the superior aspect of a presumptive 69. I looked up at that big cock and hairless balls armed at my face. I knew what he wanted, and I knew it was all being recorded. This was absolutely amateur hardcore now. Nonetheless, I opened my mouth, accepted and engulfed the big fat head, and began to nurse on it like a starved calf.

"Ohhh yes," groaned Bobby before lowering his face between my legs and starting to lick.

I didn't stand a chance. I was already hot, humiliated, and in the vaguely easy orgasmic place after masturbating and cumming once already. Plus, he had seen exactly how I liked it done, and where, and as he licked and tongued me way too effectively, I sucked and sucked feeling his cock get even larger.

He began to move his hips. Now, like I said, he was not a small guy and in that position he was pushing that big head and shaft farther into my mouth than I intended. As the sensation of it rewarded the big shaft, he was encouraged and thrusted even more. My eyes watered as the bulbous head intruded past the back of throat gagging me, but relaxing as much as I could I let it enter. It helped that Bobby was rubbing two fingers up inside my vagina as he licked and my mind was not entirely focused on the violation of my gullet. Soon I was making that really embarrassing Nyurk nyurk nyurk, half-gagging sound that said more than words ever could about how deep throated I was.

Too quickly I gave up the reward of controlling my next orgasm to him and he worked it for all it was worth. To his credit he lifted his hips and pulled his swollen cock from my mouth and began grinding it on my face as I came over and over.

"Okay, now, for what I have been wanting since the first day I saw you in class," he said switching around.

Before I could even process that, he had pressed that big head right at my wet opening and pushed in fully. I grunted and a sigh escaped me as that big boy sank in all the way and then some. Now, I had done a lot of oral, but it may surprise you to learn that, it had been some time since I had actually been fucked. I had my electronic "friends", sure, but this was the first big one with a man attached in a long while. My eyes rolled. I arched and a deep guttural groan escaped me as that whopper stretched me from the inside.

"Jesus," I gasped.

He chuckled enjoying the involuntarily sounds that were escaping me as he began to plow my pussy. Speeding up he began a kind of rough claiming type of fuck. After a few minutes he pushed all the way in so that his tight balls were right against my asshole. Somewhere up around my belly button the head of his cock was reaching me from the inside.

Jesus, you are so tight," he said with a kind of soft growl. Then as if the sensation couldn't be denied, he pulled back and started and pile driving pace that said he was definitely working up to his own climax. It didn't take long.

I don't know what I was expecting, maybe that he would just cum, but just as he seemed about to explode, he pulled out and moved UP so that the swollen head was aimed right at my face. For a second, I thought about protesting. I thought about say, "Oh hell no, which was what always came to mind when a guy wanted to do THAT."

But a lot had changed for me lately, and something different kept me from protesting even taking a load in the face. Before I could formulate another thought he tensed and spasmed and a big nasty blast of jizz shot onto my forehead and the bridge of my nose. I winced and jerked even as another big jet shot out and landed in a big lazy stream across one cheek and my lips and mouth.

For whatever reason I thought that was it, but to my surprise a final, equally large shot erupted to make for a big nasty mustache of cum. Grinning down at me, Bobby Traine seemed way too satisfied with his handiwork.