This is a first for me, writing a story suggested by Literotica members, based on their lives. I enjoyed trying to find the points of sexual frisson in someone else's encounters. This story involves cuckolding and contains interracial sex, for those of you bothered or offended by that. On the latter point, many people have criticized my characterization of Asian, Black and White people as being stereotypical, and therefore, offensive. I believe that interracial fetishes are based in part on those cultural stereotypes, and play off of those tropes. I hope that readers can understand the difference between racism and titillation based on an exploration of cultural and racial differences that exist mainly in our minds. We should also recognize that what is written here is in the realm of fantasy. Just as women who have rape fantasies do not advocate nonconsensual sex, our sexual fetishes that may be borne of racism are not meant to condone racism in any way. As Jeremy Harris's play, "Slave Play" makes clear, the political can also play a large part in our sexual lives, and it is okay to explore those ideas, even if they come from a dark place.
Jasmine was always tired. With covid and the perpetual shortage of qualified healthcare workers, it was a tough time to be a nurse. Between working the third shift at the hospital, all the overtime and dealing with her kids, she barely had any time for herself.
She often longed for those carefree days before work and family obligations started to overwhelm her life. Now, it was just the same bullshit at work, day after day, followed by the unrelenting demands of kids, shopping, cleaning and cooking at home. She craved some kind of escape from it.
She once thought of sex as an escape, but now her sex life was also on life support. It was impossible to find time for it. The third shift, which she had to work more often than she would have liked, meant working all night and sleeping during the day. That schedule made sex with her husband almost impossible.
On those days when he hadn't left for work yet, her husband Mark seemed to be in the mood when she came home in the morning, but she was exhausted then and only wanted to sleep. Or when she was getting ready for work in the evening, and she didn't have the time.
Jasmine sometimes wished that Mark was like some of the husbands that her friends were married to, the type that just wanted to get their rocks off and would come in under five minutes because that's about how much time she had.
Instead, Mark was interested in making love, and that took more time and effort. He could last for twenty to thirty minutes, and by then she would be all sweaty and have to take another shower. Besides, who has that much time when the kids are around?
In some ways, the hospital was a sexier environment than her home. The atmosphere of life and death, the interaction between the doctors and the nurses, and the persistent talk about sex among her colleagues created a sexual synergy that didn't exist at home.
Jasmine was still attractive at age forty, more attractive than she realized, and looked ten years younger. She was diminutive, but exquisite with curves in the right places. As a dark-skinned Filipina with long brown hair, there was an exoticness to her that was both sophisticated and sensual.
Yes, there was always flirting between the male doctors and the female nurses, but there was a particular doctor that she especially enjoyed talking with. Dr. Patel, an Indian internist who had started working at the hospital at around the same time she did, had always been particularly friendly to Jasmine.
Jasmine had long admired Dr. Patel, who was not only good-looking and smart but treated all the nurses with respect. She remembered experiencing feelings of disappointment when he married another doctor, even though Jasmine was happily married herself. But even after he was married, the two of them remained good friends.
Recently, however, their relationship had reached a new level. They often found themselves having lunch or coffee together, and Jasmine thought of it as the best part of her day. He was sweet and charming, and he made her feel good. Dr. Patel was becoming her escape from her mundane life.
The two of them, however, had crossed a line somewhere, and their flirtations had turned into an emotional bond. It made her feel guilty. She knew her husband Mark would never cheat, and just having the thought of wanting to be closer to Rakesh Patel made her feel bad. At the same time, she welcomed the excitement that her relationship with Rakesh gave her.
Rakesh complained about his wife to Jasmine. Jasmine knew his wife, and knew she was quite the terror, mistreating nurses and patients alike. It seemed that she wasn't any nicer to her husband. He said that they never had sex. Jasmine admitted that she barely had time for sex with her husband recently.
This morning, after work, Rakesh was going to pick her up so that they could go to her house. At her house, her husband would have already dropped the kids off at school on his way to work. They hadn't specifically discussed what they were about to do, but they both knew what it meant.
Rakesh told her where he would be parked in the hospital garage, and after a moment of panic, Jasmine found his car. She climbed into the passenger seat, and as soon as she got into the car, he kissed her. Getting up on her knees so that she could reach him better, Jasmine put her hands on his chest as they kissed passionately.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," Rakesh said.
"Me, too," said Jasmine.
Jasmine couldn't remember being so turned on. She could tell that her panties were already soaking wet with her juices. She couldn't wait until they could be naked together. She touched his groin, and felt his erection.
They couldn't get enough of each other. Jasmine didn't want to stop kissing him, and she would have been content to go on forever with her lips on his. But she couldn't stop thinking about what she had just touched. Dr. Patel had parked in a secluded part of the garage, so Kristin undid his belt, and freed his cock.
"Don't do that," Rakesh said breathlessly. "Someone might see us."
"Shh, we're okay here," Jasmine said. "Let me do this for you."
She put her mouth around the doctor's cock. It seemed to get even harder as she bobbed up and down on his cock.
"Oh my god," the doctor exclaimed. "Oh god." It had been a while since she had sucked anyone's cock, but it felt good to hear Rakesh so excited by her ministrations.
Just when it seemed like he was about to come, Rakesh pulled Jasmine's head off his cock.
"Wait," he said. "I can't do this."
"What do you mean?" Jasmine asked.
"I can't do this to my wife and family," he went on. "Or to you and your husband."
Jasmine looked straight ahead, not knowing what to say. She felt deflated, even though she understood what he meant.
"Don't you feel guilty?" he asked her.
"Yes, I do," Jasmine replied. "But I really need this right now."
"I'm sorry," Rakesh said quietly. "But I just can't go through with it."
"Oh," Jasmine said. "Okay."
"You'll have to get out of the car," he said. "I have to go home."
Jasmine got out of the car, and the car nearly hit her as Rakesh sped away.
"Jesus, Rakesh," she shouted, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "Thanks a fucking lot."
As she watched him drive away, Jasmine realized that her carpool had probably already left. As she trudged back toward the hospital, wondering what she was going to do to get home, she ran into Quinton, one of the orderlies who worked on her floor.
Quinton was a young African American guy who was regarded as a real player by the younger nurses. He was more than ten years younger than Jasmine, but that didn't stop him from flirting with her at every opportunity. Once she overheard him say to another orderly about Jasmine that "she definitely got that milkshake." She had no idea what that meant, but assumed it was something sexual.
"Wassup, Jasmine," Quinton said in his usual friendly manner.
"Hi Quinton," Jasmine replied, wearily.
"What up with you?" he asked, picking up on her bad mood.
"Oh, nothing," Krisitne said. "I just lost my ride home."
"I'll give you a ride," Quinton said.
On any other day, Jasmine wouldn't have taken him up on it, but she was too frazzled to think straight and too upset to think about ordering an Uber.
"Alright," she said. "Thanks."
Quinton wondered where this might lead. He had long been attracted to Jasmine. He had often admired the pretty woman's figure, and had thought to himself many times while working with her, "I'd like to hit that."
As they walked to his car, Jasmine noticed how large Quinton was. He was easily more than a foot taller than her five feet and three inches, and a lot wider. He was a lot wider than most men, and it wasn't fat. Quinton was all muscle.
On the ride home, Jasmine thought about how horny she was. Well, she was just going to have to take care of it herself, she thought. Mark had bought her a dildo, and although she was embarrassed to use it with her husband, she often used it when she was alone. Recently, she had been imagining that it was Dr. Patel's cock as she slid the large dildo in and out of her pussy.
In addition to being sexually frustrated, Jasmine felt the sting of being rejected by Rakesh. She was angry that he so abruptly decided unilaterally not to go through with their plan, and was so summarily dismissive of her, not even thinking of driving her home. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.
She looked over at Quinton, who smiled at her. He has a nice smile, Jasmine thought, no wonder he has such success with the ladies. More than one young nurse had talked about wanting to be with him, and a couple had even admitted to having had sex with him. She remembered that Anna, a CNA, a certified nursing assistant, couldn't stop talking about how big his cock was.
Jasmine wondered, just exactly how big is it? After all the time fantasizing about Rakesh's cock, it had turned out to be fairly small, smaller than her husband's, and Jasmine consoled herself with the thought that it might not have been able to satisfy her.
Quinton was chatty as they drove, and Jasmine let him flirt with her, not batting away his advances like she usually did. After the earlier rejection, it felt good to get some positive male attention.
"Do you have love for orderlies, or only for doctors?" Quinton asked her.
"I don't have love for doctors!" Jasmine responded.
"I see you flirtating with 'em all the time," Quinton said.
"Is 'flirtating' even a word?" she asked.
