Chapter 4

Maryann went into the luxurious bath suite that adjoined her bedroom, the feel of her daughter's tender soft lips still on her cheek. The pressure in her pelvis had never really gone away, but at least while she'd prepared dinner and chatted with the girls over dinner there'd been sufficient distraction to hold it at bay. When they were watching the movie however her sinful mind had gained strength. The feeling of separation that she found so disconcerting was overwhelming. Part of her looked at the whole scene disapprovingly, while the other part stayed on the couch salaciously watching the girls.

What was it about the teenagers lying on their stomachs occasionally kicking their bare legs that affected her so. She undressed with the conundrum swirling in her head; considered taking a bath then decided that she'd shower in the morning. Washing herself right now was just too dangerous. She paused to look at her nakedness in the mirror. Her breasts had always attracted a lot of attention. She could hardly remember when they'd been as pert and high as Becky's, but they had. A few extra pounds over the years, not to mention nursing Rebecca, had swelled them and made them heavy.

Recollections of her daughter suckling turned the pressure in her lower abdomen to an ache. Her eyes automatically went to the pea sized bumps in the middle of her four inch diameter brown areola. Ever since nursing Becky they never fully retracted anymore. It almost appeared that they were growing under her gaze. She hoped it wasn't true and willed herself to look away but it did no good. In a few seconds her hopes were completely dashed. There was no doubt that her nipples were distending. She would have known it even if she weren't watching the phenomenon in the mirror. The familiar tingly tight feeling was there and the tingle seemed to have a way of transmitting itself directly between her legs, as though there was a hard wired connection. The pea sized bump was now almost the size of a kidney bean and had a similar reddish tinge to it.

Maryann knew that they could get nearly twice that big with stimulation. She recalled how Don, her late husband, used to suck and pull on them with his teeth. The memory sent such a wave of sensation rolling over her that her head started spinning and she had to grip the vanity counter for support. Bending slightly forward lifted the large fleshiness of her boobs off her ribs and made them hang free. She shuddered from the electric currents that seemed to be dancing on her skin—under her skin—all over her. The shudder made her tits wobble which only made the tingling worse.

Her eyes drifted down over the modest swell of her middle aged child-bearing belly to the wide based inverted triangle of curly brown hair. She was remembering when that hair had been golden and just surrounded her crease; remembering when a novice nun had acquainted her with the names of all of its parts and had sent her on her first trip to heaven. The throbbing started.

'NO! ' her sexually repressed brain screamed. 'That wasn't heaven ... it was ... was the devil's waiting room!'

Mother Superior had assured her that any contact with her womanhood not specifically for the purpose of cleansing, medical examination or in the process of marital sexual congress was a sin that would ultimately lead to damnation. Of course the Prince of Darkness had to have a lure; powerful bate to turn the unsuspecting and the weak to his evil ways. Pleasures of the flesh were one of Satin's the favorite tools.

Maryann's hands were shaking as she pulled the plain white night gown from the drawer and dropped it over her head. Though soft, the freshly washed cotton rubbed on her semi erect nipples sending another stream of pleasure signals to her neglected vulva. How she missed Don at that moment.

Slipping under the covers of her empty bed, memories of her late husband's rough efforts to stimulate her swirled. She'd wanted to tell him to be gentle, to stroke and caress with a lighter touch, but it was her husband and she belonged to him, for his pleasure, not hers. Soon he would mount her and begin thrusting inside, just as God had intended. Once in a while she was able to let herself go; to immerse herself in the sensations. Sometimes the angle was just right and she felt his penis rub on her clitoris. Sometimes she even moved and shifted her pelvis to try to get that wonderful contact but even then it was usually over too quickly. She knew it was wrong but the best—the only times—she'd been able to actually soar to the gates of heaven had been when she let her mind drift back to the manipulation of the young novice who had taken her to the gates of hell. It never ceased to amaze her how the devil had been able to mimic the bliss of that sanctified moment.

Rolling on her side she hugged her full bosom feeling her hard points against her forearms. Waves washed over her and her legs clenched together reflexively. She felt the slippery juices being squeezed out onto her upper thighs. She willed herself—forced herself to stop.

A tear trickled onto her pillow and she thought about her appointment with Doctor Perez in the morning. She was praying that the medical practitioner with firm ties to the church would be able to help her overcome these sinful urges when she finally fell asleep.

Next door Elizabeth Conrad was finishing her nightly cleansing and moisturizing. Fighting the ravages of time was a long tedious process. The diaphanous blue nightie she wore, sans panties, was one of Harold's favorites. Her nipples were already tingling in anticipation and that promoted the yearning feeling at the juncture of her thighs. She was able to look after her own needs when necessary—just as she'd done this afternoon—but that never seemed enough. It was like bread and water. It could keep you alive but it wasn't a life.

Exiting the bath suite to the bedroom her disappointment was like a blast of cold air. Harold lay slightly propped up on the pillows the paperback novel resting on his chest. His closed eyes and regular breathing made it obvious that he'd drifted off.

Beth went to his side of the bed and relieved him of the book, placing it on the nightstand. She pulled the covers up and gently removed his reading glasses before giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. As she rounded the foot of the bed she considered putting underpants on and then, deciding not to bother; she slipped under the covers on her side.

This was happening more and more frequently. She didn't blame her exhausted hubby, she knew he worked hard and it was always a little better on the weekends. The trouble was her sex drive was going up and his evidently was going down. In the early years they'd averaged four or five times a week. It was almost too much for her back then, but she never refused—well hardly ever. Over the next ten years it dwindled down to three then two. After fifteen years Elizabeth was ready for the five a week but the actuality was not much more than one; hence her investment in toys.

She was considering whether to partake of the relief she stored in her underwear drawer which brought back the memory of her inadvertent discovery that Michelle had become sexually aware.

'Fourteen, ' she mused, 'I wonder how long she's been pleasuring herself?'

It wasn't early in the horny woman with the sleeping partner's mind. After all it was the same age she'd started and she'd come to have the opinion that she'd been somewhat late.

'If it hadn't been for that week at the cottage... ' The memory came flooding back again.

After her cousin had introduced her to the utter joy her own body was capable of that afternoon on the dock, they'd hung out, reading and swimming until dinner time. Ginny had been right, there was no sign of their mothers until Aunt Margaret appeared on the cottage deck wearing a terry towel robe, cocktail in hand and called them in for supper.

Elizabeth remembered being surprised to find her mother in a similar robe taking the hamburgers off the barbeque. When her mother leaned forward to serve the burgers a side view of the gape in the robe revealed that she was naked under it—or at least topless. Her aunt served up the salad presenting a similarly spectacular view.

Lying on her bed beside her snoring husband she felt the same sharp twinge between her legs as she'd felt that summer's evening.

Aunt Margaret (mom always called her Maggie) had very large breasts. It wasn't a surprise, although the very first time she recalled really noticing had been earlier that day during the brief time the older women had spent with them down at the water. Beth wondered if it was her new awareness of the marvelous sensations that could be generated from your nipples causing the pressure in her girlhood. When she saw the size of her aunt's tittie caps in that brief glimpse between the parted lapels of the robe the yearning churning between her legs had made her wiggle against her chair.

Clean up was left to her and her cousin and the mothers took their drinks out on to the deck to watch the sunset. Elizabeth washed and Virginia dried. She remembered hardly being able to keep her eyes off her cousin's boobies as the jiggled inside the tiny pink top when she reached up in the cupboard to put the dishes away. When they were finished Ginny took her by the hand and lead her to their shared bedroom.

Michelle's mother didn't even realize that her hands were massaging her breasts through the sheer nightie as she recalled that evening. Only much later did Elizabeth have an appreciation of how fateful the next exchange with her cousin was.

"I wonder what they were doing up here all afternoon" she'd said. She would never forget the look on Virginia's face when she answered;

"Do you really want to know?" The way the older girl's face lit up gave her second thoughts. Maybe she didn't want to know.

"I can show you ... and we can do it too," her cousin suggested as she peeled her skimpy bikini top off.

One of Elizabeth's hands had found its way to her mons and squeezed it through silky nightgown as she envisioned her cousin's boobs wobble and sway when she removed her bottoms. Ginny had just stood there letting her cousin admire her nearly matured figure for a moment.

Behind her closed eyes, in a flash, for just the briefest instant, it was Maryann Spencer's head on her cousin's body.

'That's odd' Beth thought; but what happened next in that rented cottage bedroom was so life changing that it eclipsed all extraneous thought.

Ginny crossed the small bedroom and without the slightest hesitation she'd pulled her younger cousin's little one piece suit all the way to the floor. Elizabeth had wondered even at the time whether the older girl could feel the heat radiating from her girlhood that had just been exposed. Her cousin was kneeling in front of her and Ginny's face was only inches from her burning sex.

She recalled how gentle and soft Ginny's hands were on her hips pushing her backward. One of twin beds buckled her knees and she'd let her hips descend in a remarkably controlled way until she was sitting on it. Her cousin was pushing her knees apart and she instinctively resisted.

"Just relax honey ... if you thought your fingers felt good, wait'll you feel this," the kneeling girl had whispered.

Elizabeth rolled onto her back beside her sleeping husband and her hand found its way under the hem of the sheer blue nightie. Her fingers worked gently over the hot, sticky yet slippery, wetness between her legs. She knew her juices had been even more abundant that day in the secluded cottage. That day so many years ago when Virginia Pearson, her older cousin applied her tongue and lips to her pubescent vulva and began to lick. A wave of heat enveloped her and her gently probing fingers became Ginny's tongue.

Elizabeth recalled how her fourteen year old self nearly screamed in frustration when her cousin lifted her head and looked up at her with anxious eyes and a juice smeared face.

"Would you like to try it?" she asked but it sounded like a plea.

The younger girl having her first cunnilingus experience didn't really understand the question. Virginia, seeing the confusion on her inexperienced cousin's face, got to her feet and pulled her cousin's legs up onto the bed. The next thing Beth knew she was looking up from her supine position directly at Ginny's pussy.

She had seen it out on the dock, but that had been from nearly ten feet away now it was barely a foot above her. She remembered thinking how much it looked like a butterfly—the delicate bright pink wings spread and the lump near the top could have been the insect's body. Another realization was that it smelled so wonderful, sweet and delicious; the prone youngster had an overwhelming urge to taste it.

She didn't have to wait long. Her cousin simultaneously lowered her head and her pelvis. The girl on her back felt the soft lips and tongue licking and flicking all over her vulva and the tremendous waves of pleasure that had been on hold were growing and flowing again. Their grunts and groans were muffled by the spongy wet flesh of each other's sex. The wet slurping sounds were more noticeable than the vocal ones.

Earlier, on the dock, the explosion had taken her completely by surprise, this time she was ready for it—longed for it. A second or two before it happened, her hips started to buck and her back arched. As she screamed her release into her cousins soggy quim she wrapped her arms around the older girl's hips which seemed to also be moving a lot more than before.

The memory had the fingers of her right hand gyrating at blinding speed under the sheer blue nightie. Her left hand which had been providing complimentary stimulation to her breasts, scooped up the pillow under her head, and she turned her face into it to muffle the sharp sound that rose from her core and emerged from her mouth.

Strangely she was floating above the scene. This wasn't part of the memory; she'd never been floating up near the ceiling of the rental cottage. Her head was spinning and she wasn't in bed beside her husband but she knew that she couldn't actually be looking down on the two girls on the single bed either. Her fingers had slowed but they were still massaging her tingling vulva when the girl on top rolled on to her back. In her post orgasmic vision the teenagers were on the bed head to foot. It wasn't her and Ginny she saw, it was Michelle and Becky. The startling vision sent an entirely new rush through her and she bit the pillow to suppress the noise. Was it a premonition—mother's intuition? Exactly what was happening next door?

Suddenly so relaxed and peaceful feeling Michelle's mother did something she hadn't even thought about in years. She brought the juice soaked fingers of her right hand to her mouth and began to suck on them.

'So sweet and delicious, ' was the last thought she had before she slept, fingers in her mouth like a baby with a soother.

Angelina Perez turned off her BMW in the assigned parking space beside her office. She stepped out of the car into the grey, cool, drizzly morning. Other residents of the area would call it cold but, for the doctor who'd spent most of her life in the tropics, it was refreshing even if it did turn her chin length black hair frizzy. She collected her black well traveled medical bag from the back seat. Force of habit carrying the thing with her nearly everywhere she went. Ten years back in her native Guatemala made her feel like a medical emergency might be unfolding around any corner, and that she might be the only help for miles.

'I should just leave it in the office or at home, ' the pretty forty year old Latina thought as she opened the large glass and steel door of the four story building.

The slightly lemony smell of the detergents from the night cleaners filled her nose as she crossed the terrazzo floor to the elevators. One car was on the fourth floor and the other was on the third so Doctor Perez opted for the stairs. Her sensible wedge heel shoes with the crape soles provided excellent traction for the four flight climb. During her ascent she thought how different this was from back home; different but familiar.

She'd been recognized by the Carmelite sisters as a prodigy when she was about ten. Her aptitude in the sciences particularly chemistry and biology was phenomenal. Despite the desperate poverty, or maybe because of it, when she had completed the necessary courses of study the sisters arranged for her to take entrance exams for the University of California. With the help of a San Francisco Parrish that the Church had seen fit to twin with hers in Guatemala, she'd been enrolled at the incredibly tender age of sixteen. Eight years later at twenty-four she had her medical degree.

The dream was for her to return home and provide medical care for her impoverished and disadvantaged people. Political unrest at the time of her graduation made returning unwise if not downright suicidal. It was for the best as she gained valuable experience for the next four years in the state-of-the-art facilities connected to the university. Finally in ninety-six some stability returned to the country through UN intervention.

She'd returned as originally planned and set about trying to improve her people's lot. Her connections to the California medical community and the Church, along with the continuing efforts of the Carmelite sisters raised the standard from desperate to terrible.

The election in two thousand and seven reignited the social strife and it was no longer safe. Even Madre Chavajay agreed that Angelina had to go for her own safety. Perhaps when—if—order was restored she could return. So that's how she found herself with a tidy little medical practice in the States waiting for the political climate back home to change.

Having spent nearly three quarters of her forty years in the squalor of the third world; this brightly lit comparative luxury wasn't foreign to her but it was a relief. As she opened the door with the engraved sign bearing her name she wondered whether she'd have the courage and fortitude to go back.

"Good morning Doctor Perez" her pretty and quite young receptionist greeted her as she crossed the empty waiting room.

"Morning Linda" the olive skinned physician returned and picked up the files that had been set on the counter.

'The stack gets bigger every day, ' she thought as she retreated to her office.

Many of her new patients were formerly seeing Doctor Garcia. When Caesar retired the resident that he'd chosen as his replacement and whom he'd mentored for nearly a year fell flat on his face. The feedback the Guatemalan refugee got told her that Doctor Smythe might be a highly competent physician but when it came to bedside manner he had a lot to learn. She was looking through the names on the folders when Linda set the cup of black coffee in front of her. The cute little redhead was another reason it would be hard to leave the comfortable surroundings.

Separating the folders into two piles, one for returning patients and the other for new, she began to browse the medical records of the people she'd see for the first time today. They were all women which very much pleased Doctor Perez. When it came to pissing patients off Doctor Smythe apparently did his best work with the fairer sex. Since hers was a family practice Angelina assumed that she would eventually encounter the male members of her female patient's families but it was her experience that it took quite a bit to get men to see a doctor. Something about turning over control which was inherent to involvement in heath care system discouraged them. Turning over their intrinsic need for control to a woman was almost impossible for most of them.

The returning patient stack was twice the size of the new.

'At least it seems to be slowing down, ' she thought and made a mental note to check with Linda on how many patients she currently had.

Doctor Perez wasn't sure exactly where she was going to draw the line but she didn't want to over extend herself. She was tired of the assembly line medicine she'd been practicing back home. She wanted to treat all her patients' needs, and to be able to spend the time to do it.

The first file she picked up was Maryann Spencer's. She began to get acquainted with the woman she'd meet an hour or so from now.

Maryann was preparing a breakfast of French toast and sausages when the girls, still dressed in their sleep shirts, came into the kitchen. Normally she'd have sent Rebecca back to her room to put on a robe but knowing that their visitor probably wouldn't have one she decided to relent on this occasion.

"What have you girls got planned for the day?" she asked putting the last of the egg soaked bread in the pan.

Rebecca looked out the window at the gray misty morning while she was pouring two glasses of juice.

"We'll probably play some games on line ... maybe watch a movie"

"I have a doctor's appointment at ten and then I have to pick up some groceries so I'm not sure what time I'll be back" Becky's mother laid out her own agenda.

Forty-five minutes later missus Spencer was saying good bye to the teenagers who were clearing up the breakfast dishes. She was already nervous before the car was even out of the driveway. Even theoretically discussing her sexual problems with the unmet doctor wasn't easy. Now that the reality was only minutes away the frustrated widow wasn't even sure that she could do it.