Lie Polished Mahogany

Like Polished Mahogany

I just sucked my first dick, and it wasn't my husband's.

I can't believe it. I'm forty-two years old, and I just sucked my first dick -- and it wasn't my husband's. It wasn't something I'd ever planned on doing or even ever fantasized about. Actually, it wasn't even anything I'd ever given the slightest thought to. It was one of those things that just happened.

I'm happily married, or at least I always assumed I was. I met (actually re-met) my husband at a party about a year after graduating college. I had just gotten a beer when a voice behind me said, "Hey, I know you."

I spun around, and it was this guy I recognized from high school. I think he was a year ahead of me, but I remember having at least one class with him; I just couldn't remember his name.

"Hi, I'm John. We went to high school together," he said as he stuck out his hand to shake mine.

"Oh, hey John -- Velma," I responded as I shook his hand. "Yes, I think you were in my Advanced Biology class -- I think you may have been my lab partner for a while."

"Yeah," he said. "That was it. I don't think I did very well in that class. So, what do you do now?"

"Well, I'm a nurse," I said as I let go of his hand and wrapped both hands around my plastic beer cup.

"Oh well, that explains why you did so well in biology," he said with a slight chuckle.

To be honest, I was one of those nerdy kids. I studied hard and never dated in high school. I didn't consider myself attractive enough to date, so I just studied. I was normal height and weight; that wasn't the issue. The issue was that I had this awful dark orangie-red hair -- some would call it auburn, but I always called it rutting pumpkin. It was thick and wavy and just a mess. I couldn't do anything with it and generally didn't even try.

I also didn't have much of a figure -- straight hips and small boobs, and to add to the horror, my eyebrows were jet black -- as was all my other body hair. I had a relatively round face, and to complete the nerd look, I wore big, round thick horn-rimmed glasses. The only boys I was interested in were the popular ones, and they certainly wouldn't have anything to do with me. I did date a little in college, but there were never any '

second dates,

' and I just got accustomed to it.

So, when John spoke to me at the party, I was a little flattered, and to be honest, he was just about as nerdy as me, so there was some potential there. We chatted for about an hour and left the party separately. However, we did exchange phone numbers, and lo-in-behold, the following evening, he called.

To use the old baseball metaphor, he got to First Base on our first date -- and I was fine with that. He made it to Second Base on the second date, and to keep with the metaphor, on our third date, he briefly tagged third base before stealing home plate and scoring.

And it was good. John seemed to know what he was doing, and I have to admit it was mutually beneficial. He certainly got what he wanted, and so did I. He got to add another notch on the old bedpost -- in case there were any to start with. And I got to '

check off

' one more box on the scorecard of life. Graduate college -- check, get my RN -- check, lose my virginity -- check.

Over the next several weeks, he still called, just not quite as often. And to be honest, I was a little disappointed, but not really shocked and not all that hurt. It was just one of life's experiences I needed to weather and move on -- '

one and done,

' as they say. That is until I realized I was pregnant!

After missing my period, which had never happened before, I went through three different home pregnancy tests from three different companies -- and yes, I was '

with child

,' there was no doubt about it. I called John and told him I wanted to meet for coffee. He probably thought I was going to break up with him, but he showed up anyway. As soon as he was seated, I told him straight out and didn't mince any words.

His face went totally ashen -- not a good color for him. I braced myself for the usual, 'O

h, it couldn't be mine

,' or 'W

ell, who else are you sleeping with?

' But after he regained his breath, he said, "Velma, I'll support you. I'll support whatever you want to do." He even said, "I take full responsibility."

After a few more apologies, and this is what truly shocked me, he said, "Velma, I will marry you. Let's get married."

Now I was the one in shock; I didn't expect that. But after thirty minutes of frank and open discussion, I agreed. Not the storybook proposal every girl dreams of. But still, a proposal, and he was an okay guy. At least he was honest and took responsibility for his actions. What concerned me was what kind of kids would two nerds like us produce -- but the die was cast, and our future children were in fate's hands.

Not surprisingly, our parents weren't too happy. We tried to spin it that we had stayed in touch with each other all these years and weren't really strangers, but I don't think they bought it.

To keep the wedding small, our parents sprung for a '

destination wedding

.' It wasn't Tahiti or any place cool like that, it was Destin Beach, Florida, but it was nice and more than we deserved. Our parents, however, wouldn't spring for the honeymoon; they said we'd already done that. So, Monday morning, it was back to work.

Seven months later, along came our little Melissa. Then three years after that, along came John Jr. (we call him Jack), followed all too quickly by Eric. Three kids in five years, we were done, and I got fixed.

Over the next fifteen years, we settled into what I would call middle-age normalcy. My career advanced as one would expect. I changed jobs from time to time but never actually left the hospital. John wasn't quite as lucky in his career as he changed directions frequently, but he was almost always employed; he was a good father and a reliable husband in most respects.

Our sex life also fell into that middle-age normalcy. We made love probably twice a week on average, once every Wednesday night, hump day -- duh, and usually at least once per weekend. It was good for me, and as far as I knew, it was good for John. There weren't any fireworks or rockets blasting off, but I still managed an occasional orgasm and all things considered, it was just comfortable.

As far as I knew, John never had an affair, as he had very little free time and no discretionary funds. And I never dreamed of it, never even considered it -- until that day! That day -- yesterday!

As a courtesy to the doctors, the hospital scheduled one day a month where all the drug salesmen could come and set up little booths to petal their latest wonder drugs. This policy kept the salesman from wandering the halls of the hospital and the adjoining professional buildings. The hospital let them use the community room and allowed them to serve beer, wine, and hors d'oeuvres as long as the hospital catered it. Last night was one of those nights.

I had worked a full day shift and just planned on having a quick glass of wine and a few snacks before heading home. So, after changing into street clothes, I headed to the open bar. However, I kept my hospital ID and security fob on a lanyard around my neck. The ID assured me entrance into the community room, and the fob allowed me access to virtually the entire hospital complex. About the only areas I could not get into, besides the doctor's private offices, were the accounting department and the secure pharmacy area (where they kept the really good stuff).

I had just gotten a glass of wine from the open bar, and as I turned to head for the appetizers, I suddenly noticed the most beautiful black man I had ever seen in my life across the room. Now I realize beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and I don't mean to imply he was a Harry Belafonte or a Sidney Poitier, but he was undoubtedly striking enough to leave me speechless. He was wearing a gray business suit and a silk tie, almost the color of my hair. But for some reason, the color looked so much better on him.

He quickly noticed my deer in the headlights stare and was nice enough to acknowledge me with a friendly smile and a slight wave of his hand. Frozen in a zombie-like trance, I'm sure he thought I was some sort of stocker or something. And when I realized he saw me gawking at him, my mouth literally flopped open like a ventriloquist dummy with a broken jaw.

He studied me for a minute, probably trying to figure out if I was dangerous or not, and after sizing me up for a moment, he started walking toward me. A massive flock of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and as I stood there watching him approach from across the room. My knees started shaking, and I was afraid I might pee my pants. I kept trying to think of something intelligent to say, but all I could think of was, '

I want to suck this man's dick

.'

I have no idea where that thought came from. I've never sucked a dick in my life, and to be honest, I'd never really given it much consideration. I'd never sucked John's dick; oral sex just wasn't part of our lovemaking routine. I'm sure John would have loved it, but it just never came up in conversation and as John never initiated the practice of oral sex on me -- never got down to it, so to speak -- I never felt the urge to try it on him.

But for some inexplicable reason, with my eyes riveted on this tall, dark, and handsome stranger walking my way, that was the only thought in my head. I unconsciously flipped my hair back in a pathetic attempt to look sexy and alluring; he smiled and had the good graces not to laugh.

As he approached me, I knew I had to break the verbal ice. I awkwardly shifted my wine glass to my left hand, offered him my right hand in greeting, and faintly uttered in a squeaky voice, "Hi, I'm Velma."

Now here he did almost laugh at my awkwardness but withheld it, smiled, took my hand, and politely shaking it, said, "Hi Velma, I'm Phillip."

Phillip -- phallic, that seemed to be a logical connection to me. But I didn't dare say that.

Trying to keep the conversation going, Phillip said, "So Velma, are you a doctor here?" He knew I wasn't, but it was a nice ice breaker and a sweet compliment at the same time.

"Oh no," I said. "I'm an RN -- here at the hospital," I added as I reached for my ID to show him. I told you I was a nerd.

"Oh, so you actually work for a living?" He said jokingly using an old military expression, referring to the difference between non-commissioned, and commissioned officers.

"Yes," I answered. "Over twenty years here at this hospital," I added, trying to augment the credibility of me drinking wine his company was paying for.

"So, I guess you know where all the skeletons are buried around here, don't you?" he teasingly asked.

He was flirting with me, and I was so flattered. Other than dirty old men lying in a hospital bed, I don't think I've ever had a man flirt with me, not like this. At least not one I actually had any interest in. I was on cloud nine -- I was beaming, and I'm sure he could tell.

"Well, I'm not sure about any actual skeletons -- but figurative skeletons, you bet," I said with a smile.

"Well, why don't you show me," he said.

"Now," I responded?

"Sure," he said, as he motioned toward the door.

"Okay," I said as I reached for a couple of Styrofoam cups from the coffee bar. I was afraid it would be an issue if we walked around the hospital with stemmed wine glasses.

With my fob, I walked him through almost the entire hospital. As we reached the fifth floor of the southwest wing, my heart raced as I knew this floor of the entire wing was vacant -- we could take any room we wanted, and no one would ever know.

I used my fob to open the door to the floor and said, "This wing is currently just being used for overflow. All the rooms are ready for patients. If we had any, that is -- any overflow, I mean." I was still so nervous; I couldn't put two intelligent sentences together. Luckily for me, I'm pretty sure he thought it was cute as he kept smiling and never corrected me.

I allowed the hallway door to close behind us and listened for the electronic latch to close. I then lead Phillip past two or three empty rooms before motioning for him to enter one. I followed him in and pushed the room door closed behind us. Then walking over to the window, I said, "See, the view isn't so bad from here."

The only reason it was any better than the room across the hall was that it wasn't facing a parking garage, but other than that, it was still pretty boring. The point in having him look out the window was to have him cornered between the bed and the wall, allowing me to stand close enough to touch him. As he stood next to me, gazing out the characterless window, I set my Styrofoam cup down on the windowsill and took his hand. He did nothing to resist.

After a few seconds, I made my move. Standing on tiptoes, I brought my lips to Phillip's and kissed him. He didn't immediately kiss me back, but again he didn't resist either. I stepped back to see what his reaction was. He had a massive smile on his face, and his eyes were fixated on mine. Slowly he placed his impromptu wine glass on the windowsill next to mine, took one step toward me, and wrapping me up in his arms, kissed me as I had never been kissed before.

My heart was racing, my stomach was in knots, and my groin was tingling as if there was a vibrator in my panties. I reached for Phillip's crotch, and yes, he was hard -- oh my God was he hard. I was so incredibly turned on -- I wanted to see it, I wanted to touch it, I wanted to taste it -- oh my God, I wanted to suck this man's dick. That was all I could think about -- and I couldn't stop thinking about it until I did it!

I broke his kiss and slowly sank to my knees, dragging my hands down his chest to his belt line. The floor was hard and cold on my knees, but I didn't care. I nervously unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. Then gripping the waistband of his dress slacks, I yanked them to his knees along with his boxers.

There it was -- the most amazing, the most beautiful penis I had ever seen in my life. Oh, I'd seen hundreds, maybe thousands of penises in my professional life, but other than John's, I'd never seen one fully erect and ready for action. It was so perfect, long, straight, and with the hardness, shine, and color of polished mahogany -- not all pinky pale like John's.

He was probably twice the size of John, and he instinctively flinched as I wrapped both of my cool hands around it. Using both hands, I slowly stroked it several times, and to my amazement, it only got harder. I could not believe what I was about to do, but I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and ever so lightly licked it.

I then licked it again and again, with each sensual trip my tongue took from his ball sack to the glandular head, being longer and slower than the one before. After maybe the third or fourth trip, I circled the head several times with my tongue and then pulled back to take in one more glorious look.

A glistening drop of pre-cum had formed at the tip, and I realized that must have been for me. I ceremoniously licked it off and looked up at Phillip's face for his approval. Our eyes met in a lustful embrace -- mine seeking his consent to proceed and his urging me on. I pursed my lips together, placed them lightly on the tip, and slowly sucked as much of him into my mouth as I could take. I then began slowly and deliciously drawing my head back and then sucking him back in; repeatedly over and over.

I had no idea if I was doing it correctly or not, but based on his moans and groans, I must have been doing something right. He was way too big for me to suck his entire member into my mouth, so I gently maintained my grip with one hand around his shaft and softly stroked the lower half as I engulfed as much of the top half as I could get my lips around. After three or four minutes, I cupped his balls in my free hand and gently began massaging them, especially the area just below the end of his penis. He must have really liked that, for it was only a dozen or so more nods of my head when he signaled his orgasm was near.

I think it was a gentlemanly warning in case I wanted to take precautions. In my twenty years of nursing, I had dealt with almost every form of bodily fluids; blood, sweat, urine, vomit, and feces -- but never semen -- at least not as I was about to experience it. However, I was fully committed at this point, and I was willing to take whatever consequences came my way. I had already been breathing through my nose, and I was just hoping I wouldn't choke or gag when he unloaded. I was actually wearing a blue dress, and I didn't want to repeat any of Monica Lewinski's errors. And besides, if we accidentally left any telltale evidence of our encounter in the room, it could have been my job.

When the time came, I was prepared to swallow it all and swallow it, I did. Phillip came in gushing waves of fluid, but at the actual moment of arrival, my head was buried deep into his crotch, and his dick was well down my throat. All I had to do was to swallow hard and remember to breathe through my nose.

I couldn't really taste him at first, as his dick head must have been well past my tongue. But the sensation was incredible. I could feel the hot liquid rushing down the back of my throat, and it felt like warm honey as it bathed my tonsils and headed down my gullet. The thought that came to mind was this must be ambrosia, food of the gods -- or in my case, food of the goddess.

And though I don't remember tasting or smelling his semen, I could certainly smell the aromatic bloom from his groin. I normally don't like the smell of the human crotch, not even mine, as I just think it smells unhygienic, but in this case, it was the most fragrant bouquet to ever fill my nostrils. I was more sexually aroused than I had ever been in my life. My palms were sweating, my stomach was in knots, and though I wasn't positive, I was pretty sure I had just soaked my panties.

I continued sucking and swallowing until he finally pulled himself from my mouth. He was breathing like a racehorse, and with his pants down around his ankles, he was having a hard time standing. "Oh my God, Velma -- oh my God; that was incredible," he gasped.

He helped me to my feet, and as he pulled up his pants, he said, "Velma, I owe you. I owe you big time." And with that, he patted the hospital bed next to us.

Looking at the bed, with its perfect hospital corners, my medical career flashed before my eyes; I slowly shook my head no.

"My hotel room," he then offered.

I hesitated for a second, but soon I was nodding yes.

"Thirty minutes," he added.

With a sheepish smile on my face, I eagerly nodded yes again.

"Great," he said, "I'm staying at the Holiday Inn -- room 209; I'll meet you there in thirty minutes, okay?"

"Yes," I repeated. "I'll meet you there in thirty minutes -- room 209."

With that, he kissed my semen-soaked lips, and after pulling up his pants and straightening his tie, dashed for the door. I waited until I heard the hallway door open and close, and then I checked the room for any tale tail signs of our lascivious behavior.

As soon as I was sure he had gone down the elevator, I hurried to the nurse's lounge. I quickly undressed and jumped into the shower. I'd worked all day, and I had no idea if I was appropriately clean for the activity I was about to partake in. I quickly scrubbed the usual suspects -- pits, tits, coochie, and of course derrière. The rest just got a quick rinse.

After drying off, I realized I didn't have any clean underwear. The bra was just going to have to work, but my panties actually were wet, so I decided to go without. If I was on a clandestine mission, I might as well go commando. I threw the blue dress back on as that was all I had and headed for the nurses' station.