Chapter 1

Nurse Doreen Andrews was a very normal looking person. She still insisted on wearing the big black-framed glasses despite her eye doctor’s advice that the implants would solve all her vision problems with absolute finality. Her attitude in that matter was due to being told on several occasions that the glasses made her look decidedly “sexy” and she found that to be more desirable than opting for the sensible solution to her optical challenge.

It was true that the contrast of the black glasses against her white uniform and pale white skin tended to make the young interns stiffen their resolve to sample her healing powers. Sometimes, when she wanted to insure a quick move down the road to perdition, she would wear her special French imported undies made of midnight black lace with little flower designs right over her feminine folds just to insure the opportunity for tempting wayward fingers to play in her secret garden of personal health-care professional delight.

At most times when the circumstances were conducive to up close and personal relations, Doreen would assume a stance guaranteed to draw even the most exhausted doctor in training into her web of seductive depravity. Once her chosen partner lowered her black panties down below her knees, it was a foregone conclusion that copulation would be the only solution to the heat of the moment.

Her current prospective soul-mate was a nice boy from some fly-over State getting the final touches on his medical training. He was endowed with an impressive array of heat-seeking erotic tools that would knock down her defenses with little difficulty. On several occasions, they had sought out an empty treatment room with adjoining bathroom to do the nasty and she never found him to be lacking in that romantic attitude that bordered on sheer lust. He had showered her with man-juice in some delicate areas and she was beginning to be quite comfortable when he lowered his trousers for some serious up close and personal rest and relaxation. His urge to make use of her rear door for fun and games could be overlooked because he generally was generous with his foreplay action and never failed to bring her to the brink of orgasm long before he delved into such depraved practices. She just looked at it in the sense of catering to his darker angels and took what he had in mind with good-natured feminine acceptance of typical male fantasies in such matters.

She understood it was primarily because of the focus of the boy/man hedonistic society on the fetish of making females to bend over and take it up the ass. It was expected that normal females would wear a happy smile on their face for being so rewarded by male attentions. Just like most carnally interested nubile females, she was not really into anal games and considered it a waste of time. She did not see it as rewarding as good old fashioned humping in various positions that demanded agility and devotion to achieving the maximum “tingle” at the right time.

One late evening, on a day of perpetual annoyances, Nurse Doreen discovered she was sick and tired of holding her ankles tightly and asked in the sweetest voice possible,

“Doctor, are you in? I swear I can’t feel a single thing.”

Of course, at the time, the totally absorbed resident was on the verge of spurting his long contained store of thick creamy health-care professional essence between Nurse Doreen’s pretty flanks with his customary shout of victory like he had just scored a goal on the playing field.

His draining was too far gone to be shut off and Doreen braced her torso against the wall as he gave her almost seventy-two hours of stickiness sick and tired of being shut-up inside the confines of his private parts. It was a transfer of some violence and she was hard-pressed to pretend complete indifference to his shuddering release.

Doctor Andrew was confused by her attitude and hurriedly withdrew from comfortable residence deep within her posterior core.

Doreen, being a bit of a fastidious nature, cleansed him fully and young Doctor Andrew was mollified somewhat by her solicitous ministrations. In fact, it was a bit of a distraction because Doreen had an itch to give Doctor Andrew a taste of his own medicine and had carefully hidden a contraption of some devious design under the latex gloves used for anal explorations and rectal corrections involving extensive interior work of a delicate nature.

She had purchased the thing from a swarthy fellow with a thick moustache and a lewd sneer that made her feel dirty just being close enough to see his leering face. The nasty man’s name was Carlos and he was born in Tijuana to a whore that enjoyed her depraved labors in servicing sex-deprived tourists from the North. He had often watched his parent at work wondering where she got her energy from to satisfy her volume of customers that seemed to have a never-ending reserve of new faces. His lack of physical toughness led to his opening a store that specialized in items of uncommon sexual practices and when they moved to the new city, he took his expertise with him and provided the same services to the underbelly of thrill-seeking citizens looking for Mister Goodbar.

When Doreen wandered into his boutique of erotic splendor, he made it a fait accompli to guide her down the path of depravity until she reached rock bottom and the contraption that would change her expression of passion from submissive house-mouse to a demanding force of domination taking pleasure in a way that made her totally in control of any situation. She had experimented with it on numerous random female pick-ups just to fine-tune her methods of introducing the thing into her seduction of her partners. Most of the women and young girls accepted her odd desires with typical accord due to her superior good looks and healthy young skin that felt so good to the touch in ways that they found both strange and rewarding.