Doctor Richard Duped
, was originally a standalone story but prompted a second part,
Doctor Richard, Enlightened.
I started a third part, but wanted to explore more about the good doctor so part three became part four and this became the part three. As such, this can be treated as a stand-alone story. As for the final part, I'm nearly there, it's been a tricky one to conclude, but I'm trying to get it wrapped up and out the door. This was put together a while back and thanks to TIM1135 for giving this an edit, if he can remember doing this that far back!
Doctor Richard,Clueless
Summer, 1998
Richie Percival watched as his wife pulled the nude, Cuban heeled stocking up her long, shapely leg. Every time he looked at her legs, his heart skipped a beat. They could only be described as... perfection, just like the rest of her body. With one stocking on, she bunched the other before moving her ankle so her foot was tipped in line with her leg as she sexily rolled it up over her honey-gold coloured skin. Standing upright, she asked Richie to gently rearrange them so the seams ran dead centre up the back of her leg. He knelt on the floor behind her, gently moving the silk stockings to align the seam, which along with the suspender belt made her look like she had stepped from a Bettie Page movie. The suspender belt had that classic vintage look with five straps per leg and she looked incredibly hot wearing it. She had never worn stockings before, and all of this clothing was new which came as a surprise to him, a treat for herself she'd told him.
After fastening the front three she asked Richie to fasten the rear ones, his cock twitched in his pants as his fingers brushed her warm skin as he began clipping each one to the stocking top, adjusting the chrome adjuster to ensure each stocking remained stretched oh so right over each leg. He swallowed, hands shaking slightly as his cock continued to strained uncomfortably against his underwear as he fulfilled his wife's wishes to assist her get ready for her big day. Once they were on, he helped slip the red high heels on, accentuating her calves and pushing her ample derriere out even further until it was mere millimetres from his face. He puckered his lips and started to plant a kiss on a backside cheek, which made her moan sexily before stepping slowly away and out of his reach.
Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she bent forward keeping her legs straight as her hands reached down, wrapping her delicate fingers around her ankles, turning her head to look back at her husband, the look of lust burning bright in her almond eyes, the red glossy lips begging to be kissed. Each hand started to run delicately up her stocking-clad legs, until she stood back upright. Still kneeling behind her, Richie wiped away the beads of sweat forming on his brow. By God, he would ravish her later tonight after the party.
Picking up the dress, she wrapped it around herself before pulling up the zip at the front that held it together as it moulded and stretched itself to highlight her womanly curves. She would have control tonight, at least in the beginning. She could raise or lower the zip to tease the men she wanted to see devour her with their eyes and pull the zip up for those she didn't want to fantasise about her. Not that it mattered... she knew she was one serious smoking hot woman. They would all drool over her regardless.
Joanne Silva was Portuguese, the only daughter of a wealthy couple, she had opted to study business at a university in the UK. During her second year, she enjoyed running for leisure and often found herself running alongside Richie Percival. The chit chat turned into coffee meets, the coffee meets into meals together, which turned into romantic nights out on the town. Finally, marriage, all in the space of four months. Despite being an only daughter, she wanted a quiet and inconspicuous wedding. The only people present were the two of them and the witnesses. There was no professional photographer... one of the witnesses snapped a few shots on a cheap camera. She explained that the family would not approve and would prevent the wedding from occurring. When they finished university, they would tell them the truth and hope that they would accept that they were in love and made for each other.
Richie didn't quite understand why they had such a low-key wedding, why all of the cloak and dagger stuff but, he didn't really care. He was married to the woman that people considered the most beautiful on campus. Being only just twenty-one years old himself, she was his first and now it appeared, going to be his one true love. She would be twenty-one next week when she would return on her own to visit her parents back in Portugal. However, tonight, they were having a party to celebrate her upcoming birthday since she wouldn't be in the UK when it occurred.
Standing up and moving behind her, he leant in, taking in the intoxicating smell of her perfume, as his hands snaked around her waist to cup her boobs and press his prominent hardness against her. Reaching up, she removed his hands and stepped away from him. Turning around, those luscious red lips beckoned him to kiss her and as he moved forward with pursed lips, her head turned so he kissed her cheek. She half-heartedly scolded him as she giggled.
"Richie, I've only just applied my make-up. I'd like it to remain looking this hot for at least an hour. Anyway, we need to get going soon, I don't want to be late."
Thirty minutes later, the car pulled up on the substantial driveway of a luxurious home in the most affluent part of town. Richie sucked in air though his teeth.
"How the hell does he afford this on his pay, this is serious moneyville!"
Joanne tutted as they got out of the ten-year-old Volkswagen Golf.
"Just shows you never listen to me! His wife is some big wig lawyer in the city, it's mainly her money."
As they walked towards the front door, Richie continued.
"Oh... it's funny, don't ever remember that coming up in a conversation. Sure I'd remember something solid like that being discussed. Not that it matters, it's really nice they offered to host your twenty-first birthday party here."
The conversation ended as Rubén Tailor answered the door and Joanne stepped into his arms as he embraced her tightly, kissing him on alternate cheeks in a typical way a close friend would, although Richie felt they embraced for longer than most would consider necessary. As they parted, Rubén tipped her chin towards him, so she was looking directly into his face.
"Holy shit Jo, you are simply stunning! That dress, my God you are a most beautiful woman!"
Rubén realised he hadn't exactly been tactful in his greeting, he stepped back from her and reached his hand out to Richie for a solid handshake.
"Richie, I've got to hand it to you. You're one lucky guy, marrying the hottest woman on campus!"
With that, they stepped into the palatial home.
An hour later, Richie was surprised at the lack of guests. If anything, it all seemed so low key, bearing in mind the significance of the event. Talking to some fellow students, he looked across at Joanne, who was standing almost glued to the hip of Rubén and his arm was around her waist. As he walked over to the small group, he watched Rubén's arm casually slide away from her waist as he moved very slightly to put a small amount of space between them both. Richie couldn't help but ask.
"Hey Rubén, I can't see anyone that I would guess is your wife and you haven't introduced us yet. I recognise all these women from uni... "
He let the last part of the sentence hang in the air, the small group standing, chatting, went silent. Rubén smiled, in his mid-forties, he was Spanish but, had lived in the UK since he came to study in his late teens. He met his wife in uni. Because she came from a monied family, they insisted the couple take her surname, Tailor, when they married. She was a few years older than him and he had that 'certain' look that made women feel butterflies in their nether regions along with dampness permeating their underwear. Was it the dark brooding eyes that made a woman's defence crumble? Was it the jet-black hair and permanent five o clock shadow on his face? Was it maybe, the raw masculine features of his face and persona that screamed he was filled with an unbridled passion, like untamed stallions on some far off distant plain? Probably a combination of all those aspects to create his impressive aura. Simply, women wanted him and his wife had him as her husband all those years back. As time had moved along, Rubén wanted more, so he picked and worked on the ones he wanted. Tonight, there was one and only one woman he wanted.
