There must be an event going on, I thought as I sat in traffic. Or perhaps an accident, but that didn't seem likely; summer was over and the tourists were long gone. It'd been about 2 months since my vacation to California, and the fall season was feeling great. The colors of nature were vibrant and students seemed to be everywhere, but the traffic was quickly depleting my mood.
I tapped my red painted nails on the steering wheel, adjusted my shades, and, through the rearview mirror, stared daggers at the asshole honking his horn behind me. I glanced at my watch; 7:22am. As soon as I had the chance, I popped my Jeep Wrangler into 3rd gear and swerved down a tiny side street. There was no way that I was going to be late. It was Monday, our busiest day at the office, and I was in no mood to hear neither Swanson's loud mouth nor the heckling of the patients.
Using my shortcuts, I was at work within 5 minutes. I wore an off the shoulder sweater in midnight blue, tucked into high-waisted white slacks with black pinstripes and paired with simple black platform pumps. I'd decided not to wear a bra that day. My hair was straightened and tied up, away from my face in a neat bun. My lips were painted red and eye makeup was light.
I quickly took my parking space, walked up the porch stairs and unlocked the doors. The office was a beautiful Southern home, placed on the outskirts of the Garden District. It had been recently renovated and was decorated in tasteful pastels and modern steel furniture. Floral paintings adorned the walls and were accentuated by carefully placed moderate lighting. I switched across the waiting room, setting my work bag on my desk, before proceeding to unlock the rest of the office; all except Dr. Swanson's door. The rooms were relatively small, compared to the overall size of the home. There were 7 would-be bedrooms, now patients examination rooms, and 4 bathrooms.
After opening the place up, I went over the appointments for the day; Mrs. Bordeaux at 8:30am, Mrs. Jackson and her obese twin daughters at 9:30am, Mr. Hong at 11am, and the list went on. I prepared the necessary forms and placed them in the bin outside Swanson's office. I did so as quickly as possible; I wanted to get some personal time on the computer before the doctor arrived.
I settled into the office chair and logged into my email. "Bills, Ma checking on me, funny picture from Kayla, mm what's this?" The subject read 'Hello Genevieve'. My brain began to work. No one called me by my full name except my mother, and I didn't recognize the sender's email address. I opened the email, "I can't stop thinking of you. I just hope that you remember me." There was a file attached. After downloading it, I let it open over the entirety of the computer screen.
The first thing I noticed were those baby-blue eyes staring right at me; they were so innocent, smiling and I immediately knew who they belonged to. Her rusty hair was pulled back in a high bun, silky tresses escaping to lie over her cheek. That round face was turned upwards, her arms held daintily above her head, fingers almost touching. She was wearing a pale pink bodice that hugged her oversized breasts. They almost looked like they would spill over. Her body was turned slightly to the left; a white tutu sitting about her hips was at an angle due to one long leg that was held backwards straight in the air. She was balancing on one ballet-slipper adorned foot; the pink ribbons making Xs up her slim calves. She was wearing thigh high stockings in white; a thick band of lace at the tops.
I spent 10 minutes just looking at the photo; tracing the extravagant length of her legs, the roundness of her breasts, and staring back into those beautiful eyes. My pussy began to throb as I wondered when she'd taken this. I wondered where she'd gone to get those deliciously inappropriate stockings. I missed the smell of her sweet pussy and her incessant moaning. I wished to enter that picture and devour her where she stood. I was still admiring when my boss slammed through the front doors promptly at 8:00am. I fumbled with the mouse before exiting both the photo and my email.
"GeGe would you pass a broom over the veranda, I've just made a mess out there." She switched her brown leather briefcase to the opposite hand and pushed her hair behind her shoulder.
"Goodmornin' Dr. Swanson," I stated dryly; I despised an order before a greeting.
"Well hello GeGe. If you could get to that before anyone arrives..." She trailed off as she marched down the long hallway to her office at the end. She did look fabulous today. She wore a cream colored sweater dress along with low heeled shoes with sharply pointed tips. Her hair was loose; gold jewelry around her neck and wrists.
I slowly rose from my seat, still aroused from the photo, my fingers itching to touch myself. But instead they closed around the broom handle. She'd dropped some breakfast that she'd picked up from a fast food restaurant. I finished the task and every other task that was asked of me and at 5:05pm I was locking the front door and leaving work.
I was beside myself; terribly excited I would say. I almost ran to my car and reached my apartment on Rampart with haste. I stripped articles of clothing off as I walked, making sure to grab a glass of wine and ice. By the time I reached my bathroom, I was only in my black lace panties and thigh-high silk stockings. I turned on my shower, stripped, and stepped inside. I washed thoroughly, finding it hard to restrain from prematurely starting my masturbating session. After my shower, I toweled off, oiled and lotioned my body. Rising from my bed, I crossed the dark wood floor to open the double glass doors to my balcony. A cool breeze swept inside, fluttering the sheer yellow curtains, and hardening my little nipples.
I strode barefoot across the room to the nightstand, opened the drawer and removed my favorite sex toy, the butterfly. It was equipped with a stringy elastic waistband and a thong piece, allowing me to wear it. The vibrator was in the shape of a butterfly, the tail slightly curved to sit just inside my slit. I fixed it about my wide, brown hips, the butterfly settled directly against my clit. I turned off my lamps; the only light reaching inside was coming from the courtyard that sat as a barrier between my neighbors. I didn't bother getting under the covers; I would be sweating in a few moments.
I flicked the remote of the toy to the lowest power and immediately let out a small moan; I doubted that I could last very long this time. I brought my hands up to my breasts, gently squeezing them, flicking my nipples lightly. I turned the intensity of the vibrator up and grabbed an ice cube from my wine glass. I couldn't help but shudder as I ran the ice in circles around my nipples, up and down my abdomen and across my thighs, before letting in melt in my navel. My fat little nub was engorged and completely defenseless against the clever butterfly. The vibrator was driving my body to incredible heights. My hips were lifting from the bed and I was whining like an animal.
My juices were running down the crack of my ass. Beads of sweat had formed across my forehead and chest. I turned the vibrator up again and grabbed another ice cube. My hips bucked as I slid the ice under the shaking butterfly and over my pulsing sensitivity. I bit my lip too hard and squealed at the pain. Before I could react, a deep and blindingly fast stampede of sensations radiated from my slick center, tearing screams of pure pleasure from my throat.
My pussy was still spamming, and I was dozing off, when I remembered why I'd needed to cum so badly in the first place. I sat up and grabbed my glass; my throat was dry. Setting it down, I removed my favorite toy and slipped into the black silk robe that was hanging by my door. My hair was an absolute mess, so I removed the pins and placed them in my pocket. I padded to the living room, took my laptop from the desk, and plopped down with it on the chaise.
Logging into my email, I quickly found the address from which that intoxicating photo had been sent. I read those words aloud, and composed a simple response for the older woman: "I have missed you cher. We did have such a nice time. I hope to keep hearing from you. P.S. Absolutely beautiful photo. I should have you hold that pose for me, while I have a taste." I left it at that and closed the laptop. I ate a salad before going back to bed. Masturbating had taken all of my energy and I fell asleep without any tossing or turning.
