Chapter 3

Angela jumped, genuinely startled, when he stepped into the shower behind her. She had been on the verge of breaking down and sobbing, and all she could do was hold her breath to try not to do that. She stiffened, and then his hand reached past her to take the soap from the dish on the wall.

The feel of his soapy hands on her shoulders was probably what saved her from freaking out. He didn't grab her breasts, or dart his hand to her pussy. He simply washed her, his hands sliding soothingly across her back, kneading slightly when they found tight muscles, which was almost everywhere. Efficiently he dealt with her back, buttocks and upper legs. When he squatted behind her one hand went between her legs, mirrored by the other on the outside. Together they slid from her ankle upwards, stopping within a hair of touching her pussy lips as she unconsciously stood on tiptoes. Then they slid back down and he did the other leg too. He could easily have touched her sexually, but he was just washing her.

When he turned her around she closed her eyes, but stood, calm now, as he did her front. His hands on her breasts felt good, but somehow not sexual, and she was thinking so hard about that that she all but missed his hand sudsing up the hair above her sex. His hand dipped once, quickly between her legs, and he was done. He turned her back around so the water could sluice the soap from her body.

His motions were practiced and efficient, and without being overtly sexual, were more erotic than anything she'd ever dreamed of. She wondered if he washed his sisters this way. If he did, it was no wonder his sisters were interested in his erections.

She felt a resurgence of the desire that had led to that insanity she'd allowed on the bed. She was trying to decide what to do about it when he stopped.

"Boy," he said. "These shower things are great. I sure wish we had one of these at home."

The incongruity of what was happening was suddenly hilarious, and Angela burst into laughter. She couldn't get over the fact that she was standing stark naked in a running shower, with a naked giant of a man right behind her. That she had just fondled that man's penis to ejaculation made her want to scream. The remembered ecstasy of feeling his finger inside her, so different than her own, made her want to moan. That what seemed uppermost in his mind was how great a shower was made her almost fall down with laughter.

Later she would decide it was his unbelievable innocence that disguised the equally unbelievable danger of continuing what had somehow gotten started. At any rate, as she laughed, she turned, to share her joy with the man who was responsible for it.

She looked up at his face, which had a smile on it. She felt the water from the jets hitting the top of her head. His broad chest shone inches from her face.

It seemed completely normal to reach for the soap and return the favor.

Angela was astonished to find that touching him this way was undeniably sexual from the very first contact. She started with his chest, and her slippery fingers smoothed over bunches of muscles she could have named, had she been thinking in that way. But she wasn't thinking clinically. His arms hung, masses of muscle as she massaged them. His forearms were thick and firm and his wrists felt hard as rock. For reasons she couldn't identify she looked up at his face. He wasn't smiling any more, and was just staring down at her.

She knew, somehow, that if she kept going down his front, something she couldn't control would happen, so she tried to turn him. He felt as heavy as a steel safe.

"Turn around," she ordered.

He did so and she discovered more bunches of muscles on his back. He let out a little sigh as she pressed her fingers harder against his flesh and, without saying a word, communicated perfectly that what she was doing felt good. Her hands reluctantly left his back and slid to a narrow waist as she bent her knees. Then she was on one knee and his butt was right in front of her face. Even that had muscle definition in it, and this time she DID think of the names of the muscles. Her hands slid to grip both cheeks. He tensed up and all she could do was dent them.

She was suddenly reminded of the last male buttocks she'd seen. It had been when she'd done a prostate exam on George Hooper under the sharp eye of her mentor. Mr. Hooper had been mightily embarrassed, and she had pinked up a bit too. She'd forgotten all about that, though, when her finger found an enlarged prostate and they began talking about what that meant.

She found herself imagining Dub's prostate, visualized it as a walnut-sized organ with a tiny little six pack on it, and laughed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning his upper body and craning his neck to look at her.

"Nothing," she said. "Have you ever had a prostate exam?"

"Seeing as how I don't know what a pros-tate is, I reckon not," he said. "Do I need one?"

Angela felt impish. This man had overpowered her out there on the bed, even if it hadn't been intentional on his part. There was no other explanation for what had happened. She had vague memories of feeling helpless, but perfectly happy at the same time, even if she wasn't in control of the situation. The urge to get something back was also overpowering.

"You should have regular exams," she said firmly. "Lean against the wall and stick your butt out," she commanded.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm going to examine your prostate," she said.

"Oh."

He did as he was told and she grinned as she soaped up her finger.

"This is going to feel odd," she said. "When I tell you to, try to fart."

"I don't need to fart." he said, looking over his shoulder again.

"Just try," she said.

"Okay."

She pulled one ass cheek aside, exposing his tight sphincter. "Okay," she said, with her soapy finger poised by his rectum. She saw the sphincter relax and drove her finger through it in one firm, quick motion, twisting her wrist so that the pad of the finger would be in position to feel his prostate. She got the briefest touch, when he leapt off the floor of the shower and yelped. She let her hand ride up with him and kept her finger where it was. He landed with his knees apart and bent.

"What the hell?" he yelled, his hand coming back to feel for hers. "You got your finger up my butt!"

"STOP!" she yelled.

"What are you doing?" he whined. He sounded like he might cry.

"Listen to me!" she ordered.

"Damn," he moaned.

"Listen to me," she said again, still firmly, but more softly. "I'm going to push on something inside of you." She found the organ and pressed. "Feel that?" she asked.

"Oh hell yes," he gasped.

"That is your prostate," she said. She slid her finger around one side of it and then back. It was, in fact, the size of a walnut and perfectly firm and healthy. She pressed to squash it."

"AHHHHHHHHH," he grunted. She could hear the embarrassment in his voice and suddenly felt bad. She pulled her finger out and sudsed her hands, letting the shower water rinse them.

"It's always difficult the first time," she said, feeling lame.

"That was weird," he said, his voice muffled. "Look what it did." He turned around.

He was fully erect again.

"Is there somethin' wrong with me?" he asked, a little whine in his voice.

"No," she said softly. "A prostate exam sometimes has that effect." Not to mention, she thought, having one done under these circumstances.

"Your prostate is fine," she said.

"Oh," he said. "That's good."

"Yes, that's good," she said. She reached for the soap. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you about what was going to happen."

"It's okay, I guess," he said. "Nobody ever done that to me before. Sure felt weird."

"I'll make it up to you," she said. She lathered up her hands, and reached for his erection.

"Oh man, Doc," sighed Dub as she smoothly jacked his cock. "You just don't know how good that feels."

"I have some idea," said Angela, who was surreptitiously rubbing her clit while she once again masturbated the man she could no longer think of as only her patient.

Again, it was her own orgasm that caused her hand to speed up. He warned her this time but in the running water of the shower she didn't care. As her own streaks of insane joy washed through her body, she let his hot jets of semen splat against her chest, between her breasts and watched, fascinated as his thick organ supplied spurt after spurt. She felt the thing pulse in her hand and, amazed, could already feel it becoming less firm. Curious, she slowed, milking the last drops out of it and held on as it softened even more.

Hearing him panting she looked up to see him standing with his feet spread, staring down at her with something in his eyes that made her belly flutter. His body was shielding her from the spray from the shower head. She stood, facing him, and felt his spend dripping down, across her abdomen. She looked down to see her blond pussy hair catch the drooling liquid until it was thick with viscous, white fluid.

He turned, sliding past her elbow and the water hit her breasts full on. She sucked in air as his hand landed on her upper abdomen and then slid down. At first she thought he was trying to help clean his semen off of her, but then his finger slid back inside her and she jerked, gasping.

"Like this?" his voice came in her ear.

"Ahhhhh," she groaned as he probed more deeply. The top of his finger was crushing her clit. "Dub ... no," she moaned.

"I want to do it right," he said, misunderstanding. "You made me feel so good. I want you to feel that good too."

He slid his finger out and then back in and she shuddered. "Is this better?" he asked, swirling the finger inside her.

She felt her knees weaken with the realization of twin truths. First, her mind told her that the finger inside her was almost certainly coated with his own sperm, collected as he slid his hand through her muff. Second, there were electric shocks jerking through her loins as her pussy welcomed the orgasm his finger would surely bring if she didn't stop him.

What hijacked her thoughts was her suspicion that it was that sperm - the first sperm to ever enter her vagina - that was making all that electricity. She felt her body betray her as her knees bent to give his hand more room.

"Yes," she gasped. "Like that."

He began rhythmically sliding his finger in and out of her, swirling it each time he fully penetrated her, and she had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling.

When the orgasm burst into her belly, though, the heat it carried stiffened her entire body and she fairly vibrated, fully aware of every square inch of her skin that was in contact with his. She moved her breasts against his chest sideways, and then back again as she cried out her release.

She had to tell him to remove his finger as she became suddenly too sensitive and pain threatened to replace the soothing joy. He complied and she looked up to see his anxious face peering into hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

His lips were right there ... so she kissed them.

Drying off seemed awfully quiet until Dub spoke.

"I guess that kind of thing ... what we done together ... that's prob'ly what mamma wants me to stay shy of with my sisters, huh."

Angela looked at him and when her eyes seemed pulled to his chest she jerked them away to stare at the wall just over his shoulder.

"I expect that's right, Dub."

"Is that what sparkin' is all about?" he asked. He seemed as unashamed of his nudity as it was possible to be, and that somehow made her feel less nervous about being naked herself.

"Uh ... yes," she said. "I guess it is."

He stopped moving and frowned. "So was I sparkin' you?"

The enormity of what they had done was finally sinking in, and Angela's stomach felt like she'd swallowed something hard and heavy.

"No, Dub," she said.

"Oh. So ... were you sparkin' me?" he sounded confused.

"I was just trying to help you with your ... problem," she said.

"Oh. Okay. So I don't have to tell mamma about it then."

"Of for goodness sakes no!" gasped Angela. "Nobody can ever find out what happened here, Dub. I could get in a lot of trouble."

"How come?"

"It's unprofessional for me ... a doctor ... to have ... um ... relations with a patient."

"That was having relations?" His voice went up several notches. "That's not how Chucky Johnson described it at all. He said he got right on top of Jenny Masters and put his peter right up inside of her, where my finger was, except in Jenny instead of you."

"No!" she almost moaned. "I didn't mean we had intercourse. That's what your friend was describing. I should have said it's improper for me to have a relationSHIP with you."

"That's good," he sighed. "Mamma would be right mad at me if I had to marry you."

"Marry me!" yipped Angela.

"Like Chucky and Jenny. As soon as her daddy found out about them having relations and all, he said Chucky had to marry her."

"Well you don't have to worry about that," said Angela, relieved. "We're not going to have relations."

"Oh, all right," he said. He smiled. "But you'll keep helping me with my problem, won't you?"

She was shocked at the thrill that shot through her at his eagerness, and clamped down hard on her emotions.

"No, Dub. We went too far this time. This is the kind of thing that LEADS to having ... relations. It's wrong, and I can't do it any more."

"Oh." He heaved a sigh. "It sure was fun while it lasted, I guess. Thanks for all your help. I'll bring you a couple of more chickens next week, seein' as how I ate most of one of your others, and you helped me two more times and all."