“I will have to ask Nurse Awarrak to pop in and give me a hand,” I told Mrs Beswick-Sampson. “You OK with that?”
The formidable 74 year old lady from the manor on the pretty edge of the town, lying completely naked, face up, both feet in the highest possible gynaecology stirrup position on the examination table smiled weakly and nodded ... then asked.
“She’s new to the surgery is she Doctor Moss?”
I merely nodded as I ripped off my latex gloves, dumped them in the medical waste bin and opened my examination room door. I signalled for the dark brown skinned nurse to join us and closed the door to resume my examination of the lady of the manor’s arse hole. I told her to switch position, lower her legs while I swung the stirrups clear, so she was lying facing the wall.
I chuckled to myself swivelling and parking the stirrups at her agility in manoeuvring her legs and easily turning sideways, knowing the county wide known horse woman, breeder, fox hunter and owner of the two thousand acre estate on the posh edge of town was quite used to being in stirrups regularly, but not these gynaecology versions. I sat at my desk and keyed in information into the computer.
I took a swab of the stained gusset of her rather cute polka dot patterned briefs, having a sniff at the time. Hmmm! Tasty! I placed them back on top of her clothes on a side chair, noting the lack of a brassiere ... well she didn’t need one, especially under the voluminous clothing she usual swathed herself in.
“Will this take long Doctor Moss?” Marlene Beswick-Sampson queried, her fruity, cultured county vowelled tones a little stifled as she was speaking to a wall, her strong featured face buried in a goose feather stuffed pillow. “I’ve got a mare coming at six tonight to be serviced by my prize Arab stallion.”
There was a knock at the door as I glanced at my watch. It was ten thirty in the morning. Wondering if she was to be serviced by the Arab stallion as well, but more likely so I thought the mega rich mare’s owner, knowing her predilection for the swarthy moneyed men of the Middle East, I rose to open the door and indicated to the entering nurse to get something from the cupboard, the door clicking locked. That was done and we both went to the examination table.
“OK the nurse is here now, I’ll introduce you in a minute, when we’ve finished, but we’ll get on as I know you want to be back at the stud.
Raj grinned knowingly as he switched the video camera on, then taking shots and video of the crinkled 74 year old butt cheeks and the very small lumpy rectal intestine in discussion amongst the withering once mass of grey/white long strands of pubic hair. I lifted and held her stringy but wiry strong upper leg to expose her vagina in it’s own coppice of pubes, Raj snapping from all angles again.
“You see, I don’t think this is a great problem,” I suggested fingering a small growth of bulbous intestine to one side of Marlene’s anus...”Sorry, should have told you Mrs Beswick-Sampson,” I apologised as she jolted with the touch, this time with ungloved digits.
“That’s alright Doctor,” came the response.
“The nurse is going to insert a finger inside, just as I did earlier, you know, to give me a second opinion OK?” I asked nodding to Raj to go ahead. He nodded, grinned and passed me the Canon video camera.
“I’ll send the swab off to the lab in the meantime and I am sure they’ll come back fine.”
Marlene nodded to the wall and I noticed her body tense slightly as his middle finger coated with lubricant entered her fundament.
She nodded and relaxed as Raj pushed on, further up her bottom. I placed the recording Canon at the foot of the table and told her something else. He grimaced to me indicating her rear hole was tight.
“We need to see if there is any interaction between your anus and your vagina Mrs Beswick-Sampson,” I lied, wishing she would give me permission to use her Christian name. “There will be another finger in your vagina for a short moment, it won’t hurt OK?”
“Yes go ahead and Miss ... whatever your name is. I’ve had four children and well use to medics probing my privates,” she chuckled haughtily to the wall.
I greased my fist, she didn’t know that, and - as she so charmingly put it – probed her privates, the gash of her cultured old cunt. Again I was thinking of the Arab she mentioned but more likely the state of some of the thoroughbred Arabian mares cunts in her ownership and what their cunts looked like ... similar! This one wasn’t winking at me, ready in season, she was well past that, but I had no doubt it would take a cock hard up it. I had accompanied my brother Giles, the leading veterinary surgeon in the county to both a stallion covering or shagging a mare as he succinctly puts it and an examination of a visiting filly due to be covered – now she did wink and look inviting. Giles made a pile of money from the fees and so did Marlene.
I had to part her anal forest to access her rear hole, apologising if my finger dragged any hairs, causing her discomfort. She chuckled and said she was old school and it never occurred to her to shave or wax down there as the youngsters do, lifting her arm to reveal yet another growth in her armpit. For Raj’s sake, The 22 year old was a week into being my specially selected, part time intern, while he probed and fiddled his sausage thick finger up her arse I continued the conversation on the same lines. Meanwhile I had my middle finger and forefinger fully up her birthing spout. She was quite slack.
“You beautiful daughter was in week ago ago for the usual mammary check up ... you know breast cancer and all that.”
“Oh you mean Genevieve? My oldest. Yes she told me and waiting for the XRay results. She’s totally bald down there as you know,” she giggled. “Whoops shouldn’t have told you that nurse ... she’s 52 next week you know?”
“Yes my records told me that, wish her happy birthday from me won’t you? She’ll be fine, fine condition too her bosom ... now a little more inside, keep relaxed.”
I altered my stance to provide more leverage, dipped my finger in the lube again and started to insert the other three digits on my right hand into the lady of the manor’s cultured old pussy. I felt her react but she didn’t complain as her vagina flaps and walls stretched and soon my whole fist was inside her. On the way in I flicked the tiny nub of her clitoris with my thumb and she jolted.
“Golly, its a bit since something that big was in there,” Marlene chuckled. “Is it your hand?”
“Yes afraid so Mrs Beswick-Sampson. Needs must but there’s nothing to be worried about, I can’t detect any abnormalities,” I reassured her, grinning wickedly at young Raj. He returned the grin and adjusted the bulge I knew he would have in his chinos under his white smock. He also manoeuvred his fingers to contact my hand through the tender membrane between our our searching evils digits.
“Good oh!” she remarked. “Suppose I can have a naughty visitor in there then?” she screeched, full of mirth as I extracted my greasy fist. Raj pulled his fingers out, grabbed the Canon and we made as if we were depositing latex gloves in a bin as Marlene turned to lay face up after I’d told her we were finished.
“What now? are you suggesting one of us has intercourse with you? Please Mrs Bes... ?” I knew I could turn this conversation and encounter into fruitful session, but was interrupted.
“Goodness gracious me! Is ... is that ... er is this man the nurse?” she shrieked glaring at Raj.
I made a formal introduction between the smiling, burly, six foot tall, rugby playing, dark brown handsome man from Kolkata and the shocked but worldly old lady who soon came round to the idea of having male nurse fiddling with her intimates. They were instant buddies. She had been with her late husband Sir Antony Beswick-Sampson when he was the British Chargé d’Affaires at the embassy in the old Calcutta.
Even after surfacing from the soft downy pillow, her hair seemed unruffled and all in place. She had a tight curly grey head, kept short and seemingly never styled. She often rode with a black hard riding hat and maybe kept her hair short for that reason.
Raj and Marlene happily swopped stories and memories of the old Colonial outpost until I daringly but professionally interrupted, handing her a gown to cover her elderly naked body. She took it and laid it across her lap as she perched jauntily on the table, her pale legs swinging.
“Mrs Beswick-Sampson, you jokingly ... I think mentioned ... er ... er ... what you called having a naughty visitor earlier?”
“Ooh yes I did Doctor, oh and by the way call me Mrs B. All the servants do. Yes aren’t I naughty, but it’s not likely without dear Antony, bless him.” she tittered. “Never another man has passed these hairy old portals,” she giggled, gesturing to her groin. “Much to my disappointment,” she added wistfully. “Er did you have something in mind doctor?”
“A sort of warning I s’pose Mrs Bes ... er Mrs B. It was my guess that you hadn’t had sex for a while and if you did it could be quite traumatic for your ... er for your vagina,” I added, getting a shrug.
“Are you married Raj?” she asked bluntly, leaning back and supporting her frame on her outstretched arms. Her sad once full bloomed paps slid away to her sides leaving a flat bony expanse between them. The inevitable pearl necklace adjusted it’s position under the flabs of her swooping jowls. Her pink nipple bulbs seemed out of proportion to the saggy tissue under them and nestled in pale, wrinkled areolae, which in turn had their own little support of creased skin round them.
He blushed and waggled his head side to side which meant yes as the Indians do.
“Yes but my dear wife is having visa problems and I think it will be some weeks before she can join me and try...”
“Poor you,” Marlene interjected. “Try for a baby? Was that what you were going to say?”
Raj smilingly wobbled his head again, removing his white smock ready to leave. He’d been up all night at the hospital training and been involved in an emergency in A&E.
“My you are a big boy Mr Raj,” Marlene chuckled eyeing his magnificently rugged stature, dwarfing me by a good nine inches. Her eyes lingered on his tight Chinos and the very obvious bulge. Another much bigger stature than mine.
“He showed me pictures of his wife. A damn fine looking girl. He’s a lucky man Mrs B.” I informed her. “Er do you want to get dressed now?”
“Yes in a minutes,” she responded airily. “And she’s a lucky girl with a fine specimen of Indian muscle like him,” she tittered. “I was in charge of the embassy staff out there and always chose the big ones...” she drifted off for a second. “Strong and safe, great bodyguards too.”
The way she said it, I thought they might well have been responsible for more than guarding her body.
“So no rumpy pumpy for you for a while Mr Raj,” she cheekily giggled, trying to slide off the examination table. The gown slid to the floor and both Raj and Marlene stooped to pick it up. Inadvertently to steady herself, she reached out and grabbed the nearest item which happened to be the big Indian’s crotch. I had grabbed her other arm, but soon released it, seeing she was well supported by what I knew to be similar to a tree trunk.
Her fingers grasped, felt, fumbled for far too long before releasing her grip and standing; Raj’s arm under one of her shoulders, his fist on part of her flabby elderly tit.
“I ... a ... am ... am ... am s s s orry Mrs B,” Raj stammered, shifting his big fist to her bony back.
“No don’t be Mr Raj. I’m OK thanks ... in fact I’m sorry ... you know... ?” her eyes fixed on his groin. “You know ... I’ve been thinking about what you said Doctor ... trauma you know ... down there you know. I mean it might not happen ... you know me having a bit of rumpy pumpy but if it did, wouldn’t it be better to check first?” Her hands slid to either side of her pudenda neatly gathering a bush of hair between them.
“The only way to check Mrs B...”
“ ... Would be to check here and now, with two charming, handsome and highly qualified medics ... er sorry medical men ... they were medics out on our travels.” she announced perching back on the table, arms out palms up, a searching expression on her grinning face. Her titties jiggled invitingly. Of course I had handled them several times but until just now that was the nearest Raj had got. He glanced at me quizzically, placing her robe on top of her clothing. I squinted my eyes as if to say, hang on wait and see.
This was going exactly the way I intended as it had for several unethical and enjoyable encounters. I only had to get the person and timing right, relying heavily on my wife. I had managed very successfully in the five years since I had opened the clinic. I had fucked, screwed, sucked and buggered a high proportion of the yummy mummies, mums of the mummies, their daughters and grandmothers. Age was no limit at either end of the scale.
My Oriental wife Mai Ling was receptionist and in the know. She edited the videos of all appointments with females having set the concealed cameras all over the deluxe premises with a parking space for eight vehicles.
She was a past master at both finding people of similar ilk to us and deducing patients to have sex with. Mai Ling had recruited Raj after screwing him at the hospital. So far I had allowed him unaccompanied free rein with the Chief Fire Officer Frances Pitman and the Assistant County Registrar Penelope Frush but he was fucking good and good at fucking. Through his contacts at the hospital he’d got to know a school governor and suggested she visited us one day. I was very pleased with that idea. Ms Pitman and Mrs Frush were accustomed to the ways within the clinic and came regularly, trusting Mai Ling and my discretion. Neither of them were fussy about which of the Moss family dealt with them. As it happened they both possessed knockers of extraordinary size. Frances was 48 years old and Penny 39. Penny’s daughter was 18 and as well blessed but much firmer than her mum.
“Doctor Moss. This is extra on my account of course, but may I as a regular client insist that Mr Raj checks me first? It will make a delightful change from the services you dear charming wife provides.”
Raj first? Shit! me as well? Sloppy seconds or not, I’d fancied the game old bird and oldest on our register for months.
“Of course Mrs B. You will not be disappointed,” I advised her; Raj grinning; already loosening his belt. I left them to it and sorted the hand held Canon, knowing two other concealed devices were recording.
“Can you do doggy style Mrs B?” asked Raj while he fondled her nipples.
“Yes of course, don’t be silly,” she pompously replied, rolling over then stopping having caught sight of his big cock.
“Goodness that will be a real check won’t it?” she snickered. “Can I just feel it first?”
She leaned and grasped his monster. It wasn’t fully erect and hung throbbing in a curve at about forty five degrees swaying between his tree trunk like hairy brown thighs. It was near black with a contrasting almost neon pink knob. Her fingers couldn’t meet round his shaft and I think just for a joke or to impress her he flexed it and it shot to forty five degrees up taking her hand with it.
“Oh that was clever,” she oozed lustily, sliding her hand low under his pool ball size knackers
She slung over to kneel properly, awaiting the grand entrance. Her snatch gaped when she widened her stance.
“You can keep an eye on my poor botty at the same time Mr Raj. Does it look alright?”
“Oh yes,” he waggled his head. “As Doctor Moss said, I don’t think there will be any problem. I’m using plenty of lubrication Mrs B ... there feel that? ... and now just a finger, now you’re in a more vulnerable position ... OK so far?”
His middle finger slid into her snatch easily up to his mitt, he was going in back hand – palm down.
Raj lined up his dick head with her gaping fanny and leaned forward. I could see gloops of his liberal smeared lube round his pink helmet which suddenly disappeared. She sighed, sending the right signals so he shoved gently forward once more.
“Ooohhh! I can feel the quantity, the quality looks perfect,” she tittered. “How much is in now?”
“Mrs B, it’s Doctor Moss, I’m checking too. He is about half way in I guess. Everything is fine from here. How about you ... just tell us if you want to stop or anything.”
“Oh hello doctor, I thought you’d gone. Best to have two experts to hand so to speak,” she answered happily assured. Do you think it will go all the way in?”
“I don’t think so Mrs B,” Raj butted in. “But as far as possible lets say. OK another push.”
His temple sized legs shuffled a little and he gripped her scrawny hips. Marlene’s head was bent low and I saw she was gripping the pillow as he eased inwards. Suddenly she thrust an arm back and waved her hand.
“Hang on a cotton picking minute Mr Raj. Just a moment ... oh yes that better,” she gasped. She had moved her butt slightly and I guessed making room in her big old cunt for the last push. His solid shaft was now seven inches in and there was still two greasy inches outside. “I think that’s it,” she tittered. “The end of the line. Now come on fuck me properly now we know the limits ... still alright back there?”
We both answered as the stalwart back row Indian started to plough her randy old minge building a regular rhythm. He shafted her steadily and thoughtfully. I must admit I felt for his little wife. The photos he showed me of her made her waif like, but maybe she had an enormous cavern of a twat. She was only 16 being the result of an arranged marriage when she 14. Her and Raj already had two children.
I enjoyed myself fingering then inserting a finger into her suspect rectum, while flicking her empty balloon jiggling breasts. My fist was timed by Raj’s thrusts, being knocked in each time by his belly.
“He will deposit his seed...”
“Ooo! You mean he’ll cum in me? Yes please,” she naughtily and crudely broke in to my gentle warning. “I won’t have our babby Raj,” she screeched before she buried her head in the goose feathers.
There were no other appointments that day and Mai Ling who had been watching on a monitor unlocked the door, grinned knowingly, entered and locked it behind her. She was born South Korean, not unduly pretty, but clever having majored in psychology. I loved the sort of rustic earthiness on her heavy jawed face appearance. She had a typical short slender build with a classic bow legged gait, but unusual in that she is full breasted, very different from the normal Oriental female build. She moved around swiftly with fast busy little steps on tiny pigeon toed feet. She is a lovely 39D bust size and works her 42 year old small fit body daily at the gym; as I do. Raj’s speed was a blur of brown muscled hips as he unleashed his final thrusts and powered a healthy dose or three of his Asian jism into the grunting, gasping old lady under him; she was doing well to withstand his athleticism. Maybe he felt like a thoroughbred bred stallion she would ride. He growled his climax and stopped, his black hair matted on his forehead.
Silence reigned apart from heavy breathing and little contented sighs from our patient, until Mrs B raised her head, glancing round and saw Mai Ling standing next to me her stroking hand inside my white coat.
“Oh that’s a pity doctor. You can’t carry out the checks now,” Mrs B said firmly giving me a sly wink.
“Well I don’t know about that Mrs B. Mai Ling has a similar problem to you and while looking through your appointment details she suggested we should compare ... er ... your you know rectums.”
“Good heavens isn’t that so fortunate ... oh and thank you Raj,” she smiled as the big Indian finally exited her cunt.
He wiped the smeggy deposit of cum, lubrication and her cuntal deposit from his swinging brown flaccid appendage and I swiftly moved in to pinch out one of Mrs B’s white long pubic hairs which I could see hanging below his enormous ballocks.
“Well first of all let me take care of cleaning you up Mrs Beswick-Sampson,” tittered my wife glancing at the sloppy grease round her cunt.
“It’s Mrs B now dear. I have told the boys,” the boys; the old lady told her. “And thank you. Men never clean the mess up properly do they?” she laughed as Mai Ling swabbed with a handful of tissues.
“I really must go and get some shut eye,” sighed a tired Raj, hitching up his Chino zip. “Thank you Mrs B.”
He left to all our cheerios.
“You really want me to check you?” I asked her getting an urgent, don’t mess with me, nod.
“But I must lay down, my arthritic knees are giving me holy hell kneeling like this.” With that Marlene rolled onto her back and lay there - legs wide apart with her bony knees bent up. “Oh thank goodness, that’s not as big as Mr Raj’s,” she said as I dropped my slacks and CKs and stood to her side.
She was correct, but I didn’t care and took no offence. Not many men are as well blessed as my new intern. I stroked my average cock while Mai Ling discussed ways of me comparing their respective anal orifices. In the end, her gentle, soft voiced persuasion worked it’s magic, when she’d finished undressing to facilitate my wife climbing onto the examination table and kneeling between Mrs B’s bent up legs. Mai Ling only wore a thong and a bra under her white coat.
“You’re quite heavy breasted when I think of the Asian ladies I know. Not naked you understand but...”
“Yes, take after a grandmother apparently,” chuckled Mai Ling making her dangling knockers sway gently of our prize patient’s chest.
Talk about a spectacular scene. Only two inches separated my wife’s thick black bush over the grey/white country style thatch Raj had just plundered to it’s extreme. His thick creamy light grey cum still oozed down to the rectal tissue that had created this appointment. I moved to the bottom of the table and switched on an angle poised lamp which illuminated two very attractive crotches. I suppose if I didn’t know the two females, the only thing that would distinguish their age difference was the contrasting colours and the thinning growth of Mrs B’s muff.
I lightly felt over Mai Ling’s slick moist sphincter, with the tiniest of nodules near the fold to her cunt, picking off a sliver of toilet tissue, knowing there was nothing untoward, as she did and she wriggled her tight arse, sending me a signal that she wanted me to penetrate it. She liked anal sex not quite daily, but craved it if more than three days went without being buggered. She was being naughty as she knew the whole escapade was centred on the wealthy old lady. However my forefinger entered, having liberally greased it from the industrial size jar at the side. I gave her a few short sharp thrusts until Mrs B spoke up.
“Well come on doctor do your stuff. I haven’t got all day,” she demanded forthrightly.
“Sorry Mrs B, Mai Ling’s is virtually the same as yours, very very little to worry about as long as you keep an eye on things,” I told her.
“That would be a bit difficult darling ... for us two,” tittered my wife. “Would you like to see what he means Mrs B ... if mine is in the same condition as yours?”
Marlene nodded, so Mai Ling turned round on the table, careful not to knock Mrs B with her legs to face me and knelt over the old lady’s face. I was delighted the way the session had ... in fact - was going, but what surprised me was what followed. Mrs Beswick-Sampson reached up to the Korean cunt over her face and parted a swathe through my wife’s hanging gardens of Busan, (where she was born). I shuffled forward
“No need to worry about entry,” I chuckled, my cock already three inches into her oozing gape. It certainly was slopy seconds and it was difficult to determine if Marlene had registered my penetration, such was her fascination under Mai Ling’s cunt and was I even touching the sides. I could hardly see her face as my wife had shuffled forward to allow the formidable old sexpot a view of her hairy ring piece.
“I do like your style for a young lady,” mumbled Mrs B. “All these bare things. All three of my daughters have a bald pussy and I am reliably informed that two of my teen granddaughters have followed suit and not the same brood. What is this jolly old world coming to?” she chortled finally surfacing from the black mass.
“You see just the same. I can vouch for it and Raj will if you need it.” I offered, now fully inserted in her warm wet cunt.
I got a farmer’s thumbs up from the old biddy noticing she didn’t try to suck Mai Lings dangling flaps. My wife grinned and eased back, raising her torso up and flicking Mrs B’s nipples. I could make a good comparison of their nipples from my shafting surges, knowing I didn’t need to be careful of going through her vaginal walls with my medium tool.
Mrs B’s paps were no comparison to my wife’s who was the proud owner of a fairly unique set of mammary milk tops. They were very dark coloured, almost crusty looking such were the uneven shape and texture of her soft tissues. They stuck out nearly an inch from the cutecones of her areolae, looking like dock yard bollards, thick at the root, narrowing in the centre then thick again as they curled in at the tip to a saucer like paler indentation. With them in sight I ploughed Mrs B and tiddled Mai Ling’s big buds; squeals and squeaks of pleasures filling my consulting room.
“Oh Doctor Moss. That is so good thank you,” Marlene gasped; I hadn’t finished yet. “You are a unique combination and I’m so glad the family has you looking after our health and well being.” she gushed, her whole body quivering as I stepped up the pace. I thumbed her clitoris and she lurched trembling, her leg nearest to the wall jolting against it two or three times, scuffling a breast cancer awareness poster Mai Ling had stuck there.
That recalled the visit from Genevieve Sampson-Warburton, Mrs B’s daughter for her mammary check, being accompanied by her charming offspring, young Bernice and little Archie. He had gazed fascinated as his mother got her tits out and I manhandled them in the Xray contraption for her mammogram, during which time Bernice was preoccupied with her Pad. While his mother and I discussed things, he had then become preoccupied with the self same poster, probably his first printed example of various shapes of tits. I would have liked to check Bernice too, being well developed for her age. The children were the result of Genny’s second marriage, during which her and Tristram Warburton, her TV executive husband had fucked hell for leather trying for a second brood squeezed out of her capacious cunt, relying on me to guide them. Neither of them were to know, but I could well be the father of both kids. She was hairy then too.
My juice was soon running out of Marlene’s slack old fanny when I pulled out and Mai Ling swiftly got off our client’s face and did a clean up. While she was doing that I swabbed my cock and dressed and sat at the desk fingering the computer keyboard completing formal notes, non formal notes weren’t necessary to be entered; all being on video. I glanced at Mrs B sorting her clothing out, loving the way women dressed and the care about how they looked. My wife helped and soon she was complete to enter the outside world again in light brown brogues, bare legs, a knee length light grey denim skirt, polka dot briefs, which she charmingly sniffed before pulling them on. She had no brassiere and just wore a simple light woollen black top with long sleeves. She made sure her pearls were in full view over the high neckline of her top, patted her hair into place, scribbled a Coutts cheque, got a receipt and after Mai Ling helped her with a navy blue quilted gilet, she left.
A couple of days later Raj took a call from a Marjorie Johnson-Thompson transferred to him by Mai Ling from her front desk. The lady desired an appointment and also asked if someone could visit the exclusive private prep school about a mile away. She had to consult various timetables before making the appointment at my clinic so in the meantime Raj made an appointment for he and I to visit Cherville Mill Preparatory School for Girls four days hence. She was the headmistress of the exclusive £40000 year education centre and new to the locality.
The place was approached through stone capped gates, across a lawn sloping area an I parked my Bentley on the gravel outside the elaborate portico grand entrance. We checked in, ticked off and sent upstairs and along a corridor to her office where we knocked and entered having received a call to enter. The first thing she told us after formal announcements and greetings was to call her Marj. She was of Northern stock from Rochdale and had made no attempt on disguising or losing her flat vowel diction, nor the peculiar pronunciation local to that part of Lancashire. She came across straight laced, prim, proper and extremely light hearted. She was very tall and slender; very long elegant neck, light brown hair in a smart elfin cut with just the odd hint of greying at the temples, dressed in a white blouse with a frill round the neck and the wrists, no discernible big tits or wobbles, a dark brown pencil skirt to knee level, stockinged legs and glossy dark brown kitten heels on what I would call nice legs. Over coffee, she told us she was worried about a rash that had broken out on all of the pupils and the school medical officer could find no reason for it and various creams had been no use.
Parents where relevant had been informed and in some cases they had provided medication and advice but many of them were just too busy and not bothered about something as trivial bothering their precious?? offspring, leaving it up to the school. Raj had emphasised our total discretion on all feminine problems and coupled with my wide range of dealing with the rich and famous intimate problems and that’s why we were called in.
“I do have some personal private issue I would like to discuss with you soon ... when I can arrange the appointment but I just have to find the right window of opportunity,” she gurgled, giving us the two handed finger wiggling at the side of her face, exaggerated by a roll of her eyes and caustic smirk.
She led us through corridors and halls to the dormitories, during where the rash was apparent on all pupils we saw and encountered, into a door labelled Year Twelve, to find a gaggled of spotty girls chatting, playing on tablets, watching a TV or some actually working at school stuff. They were all immaculate in a dark green pleated skirt with a plaid pattern in purple and green, a cream shirt and a cute clip-on ochre coloured cravat. Dark green coloured socks of varying lengths were visible and a mixture of shoes ranging from DMs to open toed sandals – remarkably free reign casual in some ways.
Raj and I were introduced and got a small round of applause before we started anything. Maybe that indicated their keenness. Four girls were selected by Marj us to bare various parts of their young bodies. Eve showed us her fore arms, Charlotte her lower legs, Emily the backs of her knees and thighs and Emma her midriff, pulling her shirt up from the waistband and exposing four inches of a big rotund stomach, telling us the rash went all the way up over her boobs and down her back, getting a sharp reprimand from Marj to say breasts not boobs. There was a mass high pitched giggle until she ferociously glared and they went silent.
Eve was an outright stunner, almost white long blonde hair and tits to die for under that shirt. Charlotte entranced Raj with her tiny frame, big black nerdy spectacles and half caste appearance. The other two while being around 16 or 17 as they all were, had no strong looks or bodily attributes to stir me ... but were young females! Raj’s hands were warmer than mine so he stroked some of the spots finding no breaks of flesh apart from scabs where the pupils had scratched. He had asked permission to photo them while I recorded which girl was which. I am sure he captured some intimate secret shots of Charlotte and Emma by clever focussing.
“The doctors want to see further evidence on your bodies girls, so we want two volunteers who will strip off so they and I can see everything, so who is... ?” Two hands shot in the air, Charlotte and Emily were dead keen. Eve frowned and looked away and Emma whispered to Marj that she didn’t want to. The head, the two girls, me and Raj went through to a shower changing room and they started to take their uniforms off, without any urging. I informed Marjorie I thought I knew what the problem was and could sort it with a little medication and or treatment, which relieved her greatly considering we’d only just met. She had confided also the rash had got to her but that could be looked at when she came to the clinic, yet to be arranged.
Pert firm tits, only in Charlotte’s case and fluffy crotches stood before us in the classic unclothed stance of females not sure what else was going to happen. Both girls clutched hands in front of them, clasped over the pudenda. There was barely a bump to show Emily was a female so thin and under bosom blessed was she. The contrast in the two was outstanding in that Charlotte was hardly taller than four six where Emily was a beanpole, a good foot at least taller. Raj got going with the camera again, in recording mode, I made the notes and Marjorie lounged on a bench, her eyes inspecting the room and fittings, not being the slightest interest in two full grown male’s interest in her charges.
Little Charlotte’s dusky skin, dense black hair and athletic build was another contrast to Emily’s anorexic frame, pasty complexion and fair hair. Large brown nipples just like Mai Ling’s were very appealing to be sucked on Charlotte where Emily had equally sturdy pale buds. I examined spots everywhere, having to shift clasped hands, and raise their arms and get them to bend over. Emily did posses flappy large labia, the little one didn’t. I took samples of oral saliva and their temperature was recorded. Neither girl was fazed by the intimacy of the inspection, but it was evident by the relaxed state permeating the whole place and occupants that this was a free thinking, progressive place of learning. Free Love in the curricular?? Who knows?
On the drive back Raj told me he was looking forward to examining the Head Mistress when the date was fixed. I was keener in discussing what we had both just enjoyed.
“Mai Ling will enjoy editing that video,” I chuckled. “And being present when Marj comes.”
“Yeah! I bet she will. It would have been nice to pick the sample girls but those two were really up for it.” he relied.
“When they were undressing and dropping their panties, did you just love that dark smudge between their cheeks indicating where the hidden hole is? I love that. Some how something to find and enjoy.”
“Oh yeah me too...” he chuckled. “To use a current phrase ... so what do you think the rash is caused by?”
Marjorie came to the clinic one Saturday, mid afternoon, being her only free day after shuffling other commitment around. Raj was working at the hospital but would join us later. Mai Ling did all the paperwork and check her in ushering her to my room. Marjorie Johnson-Thompson ... call me Marj was supposedly in casual clothing ... her idea, with a buttoned up beige and brown patterned blouse, but hey! It was sleeveless ... what a break with tradition my wife and I later mused. She wore dark brown tailored slacks and I could see bare toenails through her pale beige sandals. She sat cross legged opposite me, Mai Ling stayed with us, confident the videos were on.
“So we have the rash to deal with as well as this personal issue Marj, what would you like to ... no” I stopped myself, knowing that it could be something Raj would want to be witnessing and taking part in. “Lets deal with the rash first.”
She shrugged and unbuttoned her blouse, looking around where to hang it until Mai Ling took it, folding it and laid it on a chair. Her brassiere was a sad looking saggy white object with a loose thread to one side. She pointed at the spots on her torso and I peered closely. Marj lifted her arms and the same pattern I had seen at school was there. She smelled a bit ripe which I like but then thought of something else. I looked close again, asking. “Other places?”
She nodded, my wife grinned and suggested Marj showed me. With that she drew up the legs of her slacks and told me there were more spots.
“Well OK let’s have a look. I need to know as it may affect the treatment.”
Marj frowned, shrugged again seeing my wife’s encouraging nod and unbuttoned her slacks. Demurely she hauled them down, having stepped out of her flat sandals, to stand in her undies. Her panties matched her bra for scruffiness and lack of design. They covered her buttocks and seemed either too big or more likely too worn, judging by the lack of close fitting, although there was an encouraging; to me - pudenda bulge. I couldn’t see traces of pubic hair outside the cotton. I asked her to stand legs apart and peered in closely. Still quite a whiff but not a pussy odour, just sweat.
I sat down and told Marj to do the same and studied my computer. I explained that I was convinced there was something in the private water supply, an old problem that had last surfaced when the school buildings were a nursing home. The staff and inmates had suffered a similar rash, the place had been renovated and nothing happened but it seems to have surfaced again. I asked my wife to contact the water company and stress the urgency. A discussion flowed about repercussions, compensation, remedial work, schooling and many things until we got back to the immediate problem. Mai Ling had returned saying all done.