NED
I'm Ned Clarke, a dentist by trade and I've worked in my practice since I graduated from university some twenty years ago. Up until about five years ago I had not had a sexual thought about any of the several dental nurses who have worked for me as dental assistant/receptionists, but when Loretta McMurihy arrived on the scene, things changed.
Lori was very attractive, but not what anybody would describe as a sexpot by any stretch of the imagination. She was efficient, polite and spoke only in answer to specific questions from me, except in the case of booking in a patient during a tight spot. Her figure was slender and tall, apart from an almost unbelievablely firm bosom which scarcely moved, even when she wore a soft bra, head and sweet face were narrow and elongated, often indicating Marfan's syndrome. With two primary school kids I guessed that she was around forty, confirmed at thirty-eight when I perused her tax form on being asked by her to check for errors.
She always wore her golden blonde hair in a ponytail fixed by a scrunchie or an ornamental clip high on her crown, a look I'd always found sexy. Lori hadn't really appealed to me in a physical way initially, but after several years together I began to wonder what she'd be like as a sexual partner. My own sex life was slowly fading into the mists of distant memories due to my wife's business career and seemingly divergent interests. We weren't seeing a lot of each other, even at weekends when the childrens' activities got priority, a situation becoming more common among couples, I understood, but I there was no male colleague with whom I felt comfortable about discussing the matter.
As matters transpired, it was Lori who broached the subject of inadequate marital sex with me on a quiet afternoon when only we two were in attendance at the surgery.
"Can I ask you something Ned?" she wanted to know. "It's a bit personal."
"Of course," I smiled.
"Well," she exhaled after apparently holding her breath. "How do you and Gabrielle make time for each other, you know, with all the other stuff that happens in your lives?"
"We don't, unfortunately," I told her. "I don't know what to do about it."
She looked forlorn. "I'm sure there's nobody else involved with Rod. It's just that he's too busy and too tired to think about sex."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Gaby even reads reports and stuff in bed. I always nod off before she finishes."
We looked deeply into each others' eyes in trying to divine the sincerity the thoughts there.
"So how do you avoid frustration?" she enquired in a nervous voice.
"I play with myself," I responded honestly.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she blushed and giggled self-consciously.
"So do I, of course, but all those warnings about blindness and insanity keep emerging from the depth of my subconscious and spoil the experience to some degree."
"They're not true, you know."
"I think I know that," she smiled wanly, "but it's just so hard to forget something which was hammered into one's mind in childhood by both my oldies and the Sisters at school."
There was a long, thoughtful silence until I looked up and found her eyes staring into mine. I swallowed hard on realizing that her thoughts mirrored mine, but understood that the initiative was entirely mine and that what we got into would change our own and other relationships irrevocably. I guess that one with any sense of adventure doesn't become a dentist and was about to shake the idea from my head when she gently placed a well manicured hand on my forearm. My hands found her waist as I stepped closer, kissing deeply as our hips ground together to confirm our unspoken need for nooky with the other.
"Mrs Lovejoy isn't due 'til three-thirty so we've got more than an hour," she smiled happily in anticipation of the pleasure to come.
We stepped apart to undress, after locking the door to Surgery B, looking over the other's body, naked save for white shoes and sox. We embraced and kissed again as I felt her silicone enhanced boobs, tweaking her sun-tanned nipples and feeling her trembling against me as she gasped at the pleasure. She was in a hurry and gripped my cock, rubbed it softly in her smooth hand and lifted one leg to engulf it in the warm wetness of her hungry sheath. I jerked at the thrill of coupling and lifted her onto the chair where I held her slender ankles high and wide as I drove my tool in and out of her sweet, hairless pussy.
Lori began to adjust the chair to get completely comfortable, happy at my ramming her pussy and not really reciprocating until the first stirrings of orgasm tingled in her loins when she was transformed into a tigress. I was astride the chair and she wanted me to release her to reverse our positions with me reclining, something we accomplished without disengaging our joined parts, whereupon she began to rotate her slim hips with much more salacious vigour than I'd ever have considered her capable. She kissed, proffered her quivering breasts to my mouth and squeezed my tingling cock in her talented love sheath until she stiffened and gasped.
"Ooooh, no!" she groaned. "Oooh, fuck it!"
"It's okay," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm coming too!"
And I did, squirting up inside her as we clung lovingly together to enjoy our climax.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"You mean guilt feelings?"
"Well, yes, I guess."
She considered for a moment.
"None," she grinned. "I should, but I don't."
"Me either. I thought I would, but I don't. I guess it was right."
"It feels right. Are we going to do it again," she asked demurely.
"I'd reckon," I laughed. "Whenever you like."
And so we did, whenever things were quiet around my surgery and any other opportune times, falling in love and enjoying the sensation after all those years of semi-abstinence. However, our feelings for our spouses kept us from breaking our ties with our families for pragmatic reasons.
*
My nurse/dental assistant/therapist/receptionists were all married and on a part time roster which suited them as mothers and wives. Calculating wage and tax payments kept my accountant busy, but the upside was having a happy and efficient surgery when I needed it.
One afternoon when I had three cancellations in a row I was wishing that Loretta was assisting me, rather than Jean Moore who'd substituted for her. Jean was a large woman in her early forties with long black hair, worn like all the others in a bun during working hours, tanned a deep, almost mahogany brown, causing me to wonder if it covered her completely or whether she had tan lines. She must have been a true, voluptuous beauty in her youth; broad hipped, big busted with a small waist, flat tummy and a serene, still pretty face and, although she wasn't quite my type, I'd spent the odd idle moment wondering how her solid body would feel beneath my own in sexual congress. Mind you, there was little likelihood of it ever coming to pass as she was the most prudish of the group because I'd heard her chiding more than one of the other ladies for saying things which I'd have considered to be barely risque.
"Well that's it until Mrs Moreham at four," she told me as my most recent patient left. "Like a cuppa?"
I nodded and she left for the kitchen, returning within ten minutes with my steaming mug and I noticed that her hand was trembling as she gave it to me.
