Probably the most fun of having a secret is revealing it. Some secrets can be revealed almost right away. Other secrets must be kept and kept and kept and kept.
This story is about a secret kept for almost forty years. I have told no one about it until now. The last of my co-conspirators died just a couple of weeks ago. She was my wife. It was at her funeral that I finally decided it was safe to tell, so if any of you happen to know who the real people are, or were, they cannot be damaged. Besides, the legal right to sue me or charge me with mayhem has long since expired.
The person upon which our little secret crime was perpetrated is still living. I know because his name is still listed in the state medical society membership roll and on a hospital medical staff membership roll in California, well away from his Kingly rebellious subjects and victims in the large southern city in which we all trained.
Immediately after completing my residency training in Urology, I moved out of state to this medium sized city I now live in. My home city is nestled in the foothills of the great smoky mountains in western North Carolina. I have practiced here for over thirty five years and enjoy a good reputation as Urologist. I smile a lot.
I was married to the same beautiful girl I met in medical school. She continued to work as an Operating Room nurse until a few months ago when her health failed. We have three adult children none of whom are in the medical fields but all have families and are doing well in the business world.
Sherrie and I had only one serious marital problem. This occurred while I was a senior resident in Urology. After some serious marriage counseling following her infidelity, we have lived a happy productive life together. She participated in our secret. I made her do this as a condition of our marriage continuing. It also made her a fellow conspirator so if she ever leaked the secret, she would bear equal responsibility. This fear and her commitment to fidelity to me were enough to keep her mouth closed yea these many years. She actually enjoyed participating and it gave her a sense of payback retribution.
It did take me (us) a while to recover from her extra-marital affair with a fellow surgical resident. I couldn't take off like I hear others saying they did. I had to keep on "trucking along." Residents didn't take off time for family crises back then. You had to suck it up and keep going.
Sherrie and I had this secret which helped us bond together as committed faithful monogamous lovers. On her deathbed she gave me permission to tell you, my dear readers. As I said earlier all the other participants had already died. They also took our secret to their graves. On occasion, about every five or six years, we would get together to celebrate our act of justice. Even at our reunions, we never spoke of it openly other than to grin and wink in recognition the bond we had as a result of our mutual satisfaction of a job well done. Justice is sometimes best served cold and anonymously. Certainly, secrecy was the only safe way in our situation.
Now, on to the unfolding of my secret.
It began while I was in my fourth year of post graduate surgical training. I had been married six years to the love of my life, Sherrie. Sherrie was a five foot 8 in slim beauty whose body still flowed in the most erotic fashion. She didn't seem to try to do that but it just comes naturally. Her buttocks moved independently which made me horny, even her memory does to this day. She had a very prominent pubic mound that was covered in a thick bush of dark brown shiny curly hair. It was very noticeable when she was in scrubs. More than one guy has cupped it 'accidentally'. She never allowed the touch to be prolonged beyond a half second or so. Her breasts were a full B cup until she breast fed our children. Then she became a generous C cup. I doubt she ever weighed more than 145 pounds unless she was pregnant.
Her hips still moved erotically when she walked all the way up to her final days. As a youth, she practiced walking like the models and to end, she still walked as they still do. Her smile was demure. She batted her eyelids at me as an indication that she would like some bedroom type action. When the kids were gone, we used the kitchen table, the couch, the floor, the lounge chairs at poolside or the poolside it self. The shower provided us with especial sexual enjoyment. Well you get the gist. We enjoyed an active sex life together. Only that one time marred our perfect marriage. The wounds are healed but the memory of the fall out never completely faded in either of our memories.
I am a tight built guy. Just an inch taller than Sherrie but I weigh in at 180 pounds. I have always worked at keeping my weight under control and my body fit by physical exercise and enough body building to look good whatever I am wearing or not. My equipment is average size except my penis is 8 inches when fully erect with an upward curve. Sherrie thought this upward curve was advantageous in stimulating her G spot during intercourse. With the slightly longer shaft than average and with the noticeable upward curve it was easy to penetrate her doggy style. She never perfected deep throating but could and did give me a wonderfully satisfying quickie oral jobs when I needed relief but we didn't have time for full intercourse. Yep, she swallowed but then used a mouth wash if we are going out or she is leaving for work.
Neither of us had another sexual partner prior to marriage. We were both virgins. With my specialty, I was able to learn and teach about sexuality to the point that we both experienced everything a monogamous couple could ever do together. It was during our rapid learning curve years, during my postgraduate training, that Sherrie strayed.
I was very busy during the first three years of postgraduate training. You may not be aware of just how busy surgical residents were required to be back a few years ago. They are still busy nowadays but not nearly what we had to endure to become surgeons back then. It was not unusual for us to have to stay in the hospital every other night. Frequently I had to be at the hospital by 5:30am and didn't get off until late the following afternoon or evening without getting to bed during the night. At other times, I was in the hospital 14 hour shifts, whether night or day shifts. These would run for as much as a month at a time. I was constantly tired. My third year my schedule began to lighten and in my fourth year I was almost on a reasonable schedule except that I was on call almost all the time; subject to being called in for surgery. It was during this time that Sherrie and I had problems. We survived the really tough times then she did it on the spur of the moment.
On several occasions, we would be in the midst of heavy foreplay when my beeper would fire up. With no cell phones, I had to use the land line to call in and frequently have to interrupt our love making. Sherrie complained stating that being on call was worse than not being at home at all as life was totally unpredictable. She is a person who likes things to be in place. She does not do well with disorder and interruptions. I also like for things to be in order but I knew that interruptions are a part of every surgeons life, especially the resident surgeons life. Even with her need for order, she was so very spontaneous for sex. It seemed like she could be doing her routine duties at home and then on the spur of the moment, become so aroused and horny that she demanded release and satisfaction. I certainly had no objections but if I was not around she would rush off to a secluded place and masturbate. She was absolutely against any serious voyeur or exhibitionist behavior. She never used a dildo or vibrator to my knowledge. Her fingers or my cock was all she needed for a rumbling cascading orgasm. She was never vocal during a climax but during foreplay and intercourse she always urged me on in the most erotic terms and fashion. She never left me unsatisfied.
Her life was much more predictable being an OR nurse. She was busy and had a lot of responsibility but she knew when she was off. She got called in only for multiple trauma or disasters when more than one OR was needed to be functional.
Harold was a fellow surgical resident. He refused to respond to anything other than Dr. McQueen. Call him Harry or even Harold and he would ignore you. He even required the faculty to call him "Dr. McQueen". He addressed them as Dr. so and so, never using first names in a familiar way. Nurses were always addressed as "Nurse Helen" or "Nurse Sherrie". He never used last names for nurses or anyone who was not his equal or superior. In the doctors lounge or doctors scrub area, he would talk derisively of patients, hospital administrators, politicians, nurses etc. He was quick to identify himself as superior to others. His aloofness and superiority complex led him into trouble with other resident physicians.
The irritating fact is that he was superior in many ways. He was a six foot three inch blond brightly blue eyed young man with perfect teeth and body. He was in fact handsome beyond belief. He had a rugged angular face and without a single wrinkle. His hands were strong with long fingers that he kept perfectly manicured. His face and body were sculpted. He stood tall and straight and walked with a certain air of arrogance. He rarely smiled but when he did, it was a condescending smile, that is unless he was on the prowl for strange pussy. He had trouble holding eye contact except in the hunt. A glance was his best at communicating with his eyes. His body language always exuded confidence, superiority and arrogance. He was extremely intelligent and talented in the visual arts. He had great hand eye coordination. He was a good artist, specializing in charcoal sketches of the human body, with or without clothing. He had graduated as first in the class in class in high school, college and medical school. There was no denying that he really was handsome, intelligent and talented. Yet he was hated by many. In his eyes, humility was a sign of weakness and belonged to the lower classes, meaning everyone other than Dr. McQueen
At the time of this story, he was completing his residency in Plastic Surgery. Even as a resident, his skills were already way beyond those of a number of plastic surgeons in the city including the faculty. He truly was destined for fame, fortune and riches and he knew it. He was quick to let everyone else know it also. He was both idolized and hated.
It was easy to watch him flirting with and seducing nurses. He was a smooth operator, in the O.R and everywhere else. He had the gentle touch of the master seducer. He reserved his demur smiles for his prey. It seems he was hated more by some of the married male residents and a growing number of the female nursing and female administrative staff. Rumors had it that he made seducing wives of residents his specialty although any halfway beautiful young woman could become a target of his romantic attentions. Rumors were that several marriages were broken because of his forays. There was even one legal action taken against him by an angry female employee, This somehow disappeared quietly.
When we confronted him about these rumors his standard reply would be "You are jealous. Don't you wish you had those kind of rumors about your talents in bed circulating. I know you wish you had what I have." Then he stand tall, stretch his arms toward the ceiling, which he could almost touch, then cup and adjust his crotch and say something demeaning before exiting in an obvious strut.
He exuded arrogance and indifference to the feelings of others. Life was all about pleasuring Dr. McQueen. I really think he had a personality disorder.
I once found myself in the doctors lounge between cases on an early spring morning. I was having a bit of breakfast and my second cup of coffee when "Harry Boy" as he was known derisively, came strutting into the doctors lounge and threw himself into one of the plush chairs next to where I was sitting munching on some fruit. Lifting his leg up over the arm rest, he reached over and took my cup of coffee and took a long swig. Of course he never asked me if he could for he knew I would say no.
"Damn, Jon, do you actually drink this shit?" He sat my cup back down on the magazine table between our chairs. "You know, I only drink fresh ground bean coffee, not this crap."
"Thanks 'Harry boy' I replied in sarcasm. "You can have the rest of my coffee if you like, it will mix well with all the rest of the shit you dish out to us lowly peons. I can't drink after you, I might catch syphilis or some other STD. Worse yet, I might catch a terrible and fatal case of "plastic surgeon arrogance."
