Sneeze on Monday...danger

Sneeze on Monday, sneeze for danger

Part 4 Dr. Mecuniam

Undoubtedly it was the front door opening. Cheryl could hear footsteps. What could she do? Her clothes were in the garden and there were none in the bed­rooms—or at least none she was aware of. There was a call from below. What should she do? Should she hide? A little naked girl hiding under a bed or in a cupboard. What would she do if she was found—and found she must be be­cause Dr Mecuniam would know of her presence by her clothes in the garden. There was a footstep on the stair. Cheryl was to be embarrassed. There were her panties certainly on the bed, she had brought them upstairs but that was all. Should she put them on? How could she explain this? Yes, yes she was tak­ing a bath and...

Her attempt to reach the bathroom before Dr Mecuniam saw her was a failure.

"Ah, Miss Cheryl! How good to meet you... at last."

His hand outstretched Dr Mecuniam advanced towards Cheryl. In her con­fusion Cheryl was unsure what to do, a deep blush suffused her upper body. She took his hand; it was cold, bony but firm.

"You are well? Indeed I can see you are—in the pink indeed. Ha, ha! Enjoy­ing the house? I see you have been sunbathing. Such a secluded garden. I cer­tainly envy you. Not something I can enjoy... a skin condition you see, not good for me, not good at all." He smiled, a thin smile stretching the skin of his pale lips but not revealing his teeth.

Cheryl was relieved. She remained deeply embarrassed but Dr Mecuniam had explained away her nakedness without her having to make any excuse and, yes indeed, it was the obvious explanation. She looked at him. Unlike his summation of her health, his appearance was very much the opposite. Pale, drawn, sunken eyes, a stoop, too lean, skin too thin and transparent. No, Dr Mecuniam did not look well at all. He was not, though, an unattractive man—for his age, which seemed considerable—and he had an air about him Cheryl found engaging. A presence that caused her to relax.

Dr Mecuniam took her by the arm. The feel of his bony hand on her skin made her jump.

"I'll, I'll go and put my clothes on," she said.

"No, no please don't bother on my account. The sight is not exactly un­pleasing to a man of my years."

Cheryl should have been incensed by his comment but she was not. She simply accepted it—it was, after all, a compliment.

"Come, let me show you the house—though you have of course seen it. Have you come often?"

Cheryl glanced quickly at him. Had he guessed, did he realise what she had been doing in the house. Was her recently developed desire, her sudden ob­session with sex so obvious? But he was merely smiling his thin not unfriendly smile, his watery eyes sparkling, a grey eyebrow raised.

"After you." His hand patted her naked bottom as he ushered her through a door back into the room she had so recently left. Cheryl's eyes just saw the re­cently used bed knob, it seemed to shine like a beacon indicating her shame.

The touch of his hand on her bottom cheek had surprised her. Again she should have been incensed. It was inappropriate touching, tantamount to as­sault but she had not minded: indeed quite the opposite, as it had sent an electric shiver through her. A sexual touch. A touch she had been so in need of this long week. A trickle of moisture ran down her left inner thigh. She was instant­ly worried. Would Dr Mecuniam, walking just behind her, see it?

"A lovely room, quite excellent proportions I have always thought and this old bed is quite...." His hand rested on the bed knob so recently vacated by Cheryl's sex.

He looked momentarily puzzled and then looked questioningly at Cheryl, "Why, my dear, I fear I have interrupted you in..."

Before Cheryl could appreciate what was happening she felt his hand touching her pubic hair, moving, feeling the wetness on her inner thigh. Fin­gers touching her intimately.

"... so wet, so very wet! Why, I have interrupted you in pleasuring yourself. How very rude of me. Quite unforgivable."

His fingers stirred—stroking, touching, pulling, and entering.

"Please, let me make amends, let me assist you. Just bend yourself here, yes over the bed end, legs apart a little, yes that is better, makes access easy. Now is that good?"

Cheryl bent. She found it easier to do what Dr Mecuniam said. There was no resistance and, though she could not understand it, the idea did not worry, annoy or upset her. And, yes, it felt very good to have not her own fingers, or the inanimate hardness of the mahogany bed knob, but someone else's fingers inside her. The only thing that would be better would be...

The entrance of the penis was unexpected. What was to happen should have been obvious but wasn't. That Dr Mecuniam had presented his penis to her was now clear. She could feel it, not as hard as the bed knob—indeed it did not feel terribly hard at all but certainly sufficiently stiff to achieve entrance to a very wet vagina. She could feel the scratch of Dr Mecuniam's suit cloth on her bottom. He had not undressed—certainly not had the time. She was being fucked, fucked by an old man she had met only moments before, fucked with­out any resistance on her part. It was not like her, but she felt powerless to re­sist, her mind did not want him to stop—she did not want him to stop. The feel­ing was simply delicious—she could not get enough of it—she so wanted to come and, unlike her difficulty earlier with the bed knob, she could feel suc­cess within her grasp.

The orgasm felt different, different from those she had enjoyed before. It was almost, yes, she supposed thinking back afterwards, almost what it must be like for a man. She felt as if she was ejaculating, as if she was expelling an essence—or it was being drawn from her body—right at the point where she was joined to the man. The whole sensation was of coming in steady spurts as her body shook in electric bliss. The feeling was quite incredible and Cheryl loved it — not wanting it to stop.

Cheryl felt quite drained, quite weak at the knees. As her mind cleared a thought came to her, came to her strongly as Dr Mecuniam continued to push against her, his penis sliding easily within her, his suiting alternately touch­ing, then leaving her bottom—he must not ejaculate within her — she had no protection, had had no need of it. The words tumbled from her — the words a young schoolgirl might use on a date that had got out of control but in fact came from a sophisticated, intelligent, fashionable woman.

"Please, please, not inside me."

Dr Mecuniam withdrew.

But if he was not to come inside her? It did not occur to Cheryl that Dr Me­cuniam did not have to come, that an option was for him to put himself away and not come at all. This simply did not occur to her. If he was not to come in­side her she must ensure he came another way. She got up and turned to him. The penis now rose strongly from Dr Mecuniam's fly as if it had been reinvigo­rated by the unaccustomed exercise.

Cheryl knew what to do, what would be an acceptable alternative. She knelt in acquiescence, the shiny knob inches from her face, shiny with her own lubrication. Her tongue reached, her tongue touched. There was a slight ooz­ing, a pooling at the very tip. She lapped.

It was not surprising that it took a little time, even with Cheryl trying her very best, using all the tricks she thought she knew to make Dr Mecuniam come but no doubt he was in no hurry. Cheryl swallowed as she gently sucked, helping the spurting semen reach her throat. Flaccidity followed quickly and Cheryl released it to stand in some confusion. What on Earth had just hap­pened? The suddenness of the coupling—she could not call it rape—she had most certainly confirmed it was a mutual decision. Cheryl was aware things were not right. A nagging doubt at much of what she had been doing and expe­riencing was there in her head—for a moment.

"My dear. I am sure you feel better for that. Such an important release. Quite calms the inner woman and indeed, for myself, I am most grateful, most touched, at your tender ministrations."

He had her hand, was leading her down the stairs. "Your clothes, I think, perhaps you should put them on now. You must be tired. We will talk tomor­row, you can come again tomorrow. I am sure you can come tomorrow."

Cheryl was surprised to find herself in her car. What had happened? That was meant to have been a meeting about her house, about the papers, yet they had not once discussed that or, really, anything. Instead they had... coupled. It was incredible. Cheryl drove to her flat subdued. She slept deeply that night and was late to work... again.

The thoughts in her head as she drove to the villa were confusing. She was worried about her work, anxious to sort out the house business yet her orgasm yesterday had been so good, so much better than she had experienced before. It was something she wanted to feel again. But sex with an old man, an old man she did not know at all. It was all very odd. She was sure she was chang­ing, becoming someone different from how she was before. Someone was doing this to her, it did not frighten her rather she was in anticipation.

Cheryl had expected to find Dr Mecuniam waiting for her but the house was empty. Surely he was not going to miss another appointment? Despite feel­ing aroused, Cheryl was loath to take her clothes off. It would be strange to do such a thing deliberately when expecting to discuss papers and meet a virtual stranger. But it was frustrating to walk around the house and see her bedpost standing unused or to walk in the garden and imagine the sun on her naked sex. She waited. Dr Mecuniam did not come. The urge to be free of her clothing increased, indeed was becoming almost uncontrollable. If he was not going to appear there could be no harm in... The speed at which she shed skirt, jacket, blouse, bra and panties was remarkable. Cheryl stretched; it was so good to be free. She turned to head upstairs to the bedroom, to the mahogany rod stand­ing waiting for her; she could feel the wetness seeping from her. It would be so good to slide the thick pole into herself, feel it probing, feel the acorn head rub­bing. Cheryl placed a foot on the first stair. There was the sound of a key in the lock.

Cheryl turned and there he was, Doctor Mecuniam, framed in the gather­ing dusk.

"Ah, my dear, were you sunbathing or, ah, exercising?"

The euphemism seemed almost natural, as if it was something to be talked about.

"I was about to... exercise again."

"Good, excellent. Young women need plenty of healthy exercise. Don't let me stop you. May I spectate?"

She was conscious of Dr Mecuniam following her up the stairs, aware that he must be watching her bare bottom, its cheeks swaying from side to side as each step took her up the stairs. She half expected a hand to insinuate itself be­tween them. It would be the thing men would do, would want to do. Cheryl was not sure she did not want that.

Cheryl felt embarrassed at the prospect of being watched at masturba­tion, the prospect of being viewed as she pushed down on the mahogany knob and began to ride. What was the word, if it was a word, Dr Mecuniam had used? Spectate.

Dr Mecuniam sat and watched, hands carefully folded across his lap, sit­ting upright on the bedroom chair, his face almost expressionless though, it seemed to Cheryl, there was a nod for her to begin. It was difficult for her to re­call when she should have been more embarrassed. Standing naked, legs apart, before a fully dressed old man and touching herself intimately and, moreover, placing the ruddy knob of the bedstead finial very clearly at the en­trance to her vagina and pushing so that the smooth dome could distend and achieve entrance. His eyes watched as she began to move, riding the pole, the old wood soon shining with her lubrication, the wetness revealed on every up­ward thrust, her thigh muscles tightening as they lifted her body upwards.

The man did not move but just sat and watched, his eyes on the naked woman as she 'exercised.'

The sweat drenched her body, she was positively glowing with the exer­cise but she was not coming—the orgasm was elusive. Cheryl pumped up and down, her fingers playing her clitoris like a stringed instrument but, pleasur­able as it was, a climax seemed unattainable. She had forgotten Dr Mecuniam now, her eyes tight shut and her whole concentration going to what she was feeling between her legs. The touch on her shoulder took her by surprise mak­ing her literally jump, she lost her footing and went sprawling, the mahogany knob sliding from her as she jumped.

It was Dr Mecuniam — of course. He had left the chair and come silently over to her.

"Perhaps? If I might assist?"

He was slowly undressing, neatly placing his clothes in a pile; he seemed unhurried as if long experience had taught him the pleasure of taking sex slow­ly. Cheryl was in rather more of a hurry; she was desperate for climax and the slow undressing meant delay in getting at what she was now certain she need­ed; the real penis of Dr Mecuniam; she was sure it would give her what she de­sired — a beautiful electric orgasm, perhaps similar to the one he had given her before. Would he expect her to suck first? She was happy to do that, happy to be on her knees suckling but she would rather he fucked her straightway. Cheryl chose to encourage her wish. She got off the floor and lay on the bed knees apart, her sex, red, wet and open from her recent work; revealed to beck­on him — an invitation... or surrender.

Dr Mecuniam smiled as he continued undressing, folding each item of clothing carefully before placing it on the pile. Finally he turned, completely naked, to Cheryl. His penis could have been firmer but it was erect and that was Cheryl's requirement.

"Please, quickly," she said.

Dr Mecuniam obliged sinking himself into Cheryl as her legs locked around his back and she pulled against him just as she had worked on the mahogany knob. Success was not long in coming and once again Cheryl felt the strange, utterly wonderful sensation, it was as if her clit was elongating, stretching itself away from her and pulsing, pumping, squeezing little spurts of electric bliss from her body. The feeling seemed to go on and on as she lay there, still under Dr Mecuniam, just shaking with the pleasure.

Cheryl was a little surprised at how exhausted she was from the sex. She was certainly in no hurry to get up from the bed. The orgasm had quite drained her and it had gone on and on so deliciously. Any more and she would, she thought, have fainted.

"Do you run?"

Cheryl was surprised both by the sound of Dr Mecuniam's voice and by the question, "I visit the gym."

"Ah, yes, popular. Keeping fit is so important. I do like to see young women out running, strengthening their muscles, building their stamina, work­ing up a healthy glow."

Cheryl opened her eyes and looked at him. Was he some dirty old man who ogled girls running in skimpy shorts and sports bras? But that did not seem to be at all what he was saying. Rather he liked to see the exercise, the en­ergy, the heat generated from the exertion.

"I can run."

"Would you? Saturday evening?"

Cheryl was surprised that she had agreed without thinking. It was an odd request and she had not even considered saying no. It was as if he had some hold over her, so she would do whatever he said — but that could not be.

He was making no demand, no request but, lying beside her, he remained hard, his penis and, indeed, all around it soaked with her excitement. With an effort she got up onto her elbows and lent over to please this man who had, once again, been so considerate as not to come inside her. Cheryl licked, run­ning her tongue along the shaft, licking at her own wetness. The smooth head slipped easily into her mouth. How easy it was to suck and play with a penis, teasing it until she went too far. How old was this man she was fellating? Did it matter? She seemed to have no resistance to Dr Mecuniam. There seemed to be no warning of the impending release, no groan, no bucking of hips, no sud­den spoken indication to alert her. All at once he was coming, filling her mouth with a gentle pulsing. Cheryl swallowed, her tongue lapping until there was no more, before falling back on the bed quite exhausted.

She slept; the papers forgotten in her tiredness.

Dr Mecuniam was not there at the villa when she arrived Saturday so she went for her run. There was no need for an excuse to strip naked this time. Cheryl stripped in one room and did not hurry to get dressed in her running things. She even envisaged what it would be like running naked, not some­thing she could of course do in suburbia but in the country it might be differ­ent if she knew an unfrequented path, perhaps one where she could see well ahead and hide if someone was coming the other way. Hide, all sweaty, in the bushes, behind a wall or in the bracken, crouching, sex open, watching who went by. Perhaps playing with herself in anticipation that it might be a hand­some young man she could fantasise about. Of course naked running was easy enough for men or girls with small breasts but hers would be a problem if not restrained — wouldn't they? She hadn't tried. A few laps of the garden con­firmed her thought. The sports bra needed to stay, lovely as the feeling of free­dom was.

Cheryl was looking forward to the run. She could not run naked but there was no need for panties. Sports bra, tee shirt and light cotton shorts would do. The run was good but more tiring than she had expected, her chest heaved with the exertion and in the heat of the late afternoon the sweat poured down her. Despite all this she was aroused. Her thoughts of naked running had turned her on and her mind did not let arousal or the subject go. Panting, she came up the garden path; the door opened and Dr Mecuniam let her in—he had been waiting. His nostrils seemed to expand and his thin smile broadened.

"Why, how you shine with exercise, my dear." His hand touched the wet material of her tee shirt. "How hot you are, and damp, with your running." It clearly excited him. "Might I?"

His hand cupped the mound between her legs. She was very damp there both from the sweat and her arousal. He squeezed, massaging the damp cot­ton and rubbing the mound beneath. Cheryl wriggled. The touch was wonder­ful. The hand came forward to rest over her curls; the material there was damp and had ridden up to tuck itself in her slit. His fingers slipped within the mate­rial and began to massage her bud. Cheryl was transported.

"I think your bra needs to come off Miss Cheryl."

It did. It really did. Cheryl needed her nipples free. The feel of bony hands on her damp breasts brought goose pimples, not of fear but in excitement. Her nipples were on fire as they were squeezed.

"Would you care to lie down, a bed perhaps?"

Cheryl was led upstairs; a young woman in rucked up tee shirt, running shorts, semi-transparent with sweat and pushed up into her sex and bottom, quivering with excitement. A very different image from the sophisticated, intel­ligent, fashionable woman of the week before. She was relieved to lie down, roll off her shorts and spread her legs in invitation. Dr Mecuniam undressed with his usual care and unhurriedness. His penis rose strong and ready for Cheryl's pleasure. He seemed to have put on some weight since she had first seen him. Perhaps he had been getting over an illness, a virus?

Intercourse was long. Dr Mecuniam's stamina and ability to stave off ejac­ulation considerable. Cheryl's orgasm did not come quickly but there were lit­tle mini climaxes on the way. Little spurtings, little jolts of pure delight. It was wonderful, it was ecstatic and it was very, very tiring. This time, when the big one came, she did faint and it seemed hours later that she came to—certainly the room was darker. Dr Mecuniam was lying quietly beside her with his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. His remarkable penis, though, was still erect. Cheryl moved and began to suck. She would have to get contraception if this was to go on for long. Was he still fertile? Dr Mecuniam, however, seemed very happy to come in her mouth. He had neither suggested an alternative nor brought any contraception of his own. Cheryl was happy to let him come that way if he was content.