A Trip to the ER

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Mike hated going to the Emergency Room. There was always a long wait, incompetent ER techs, receptionists asking stupid questions and a disinterested part time ER doctor who didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. He’d been sitting in the treatment room for almost half an hour in a stupid paper gown; all he needed was a half a dozen stitches in his left thumb.

Stupid accident…he’d been rushing to finish removing the old carpet before beginning the oak flooring project. He’d cut toward himself…knew better…the carpet knife had jerked as it hit a rotten part of the old carpet backing and sliced his thumb open. When it didn’t stop bleeding in an hour he knew he needed to get it sutured up and get back to work.

Finally, someone was coming to treat him. Another tech or nurse? No…a doctor…he could tell before he saw the name tag…purposeful and in charge…not one to be trifled with…”Don’t fuck with me” look…red hair, small, maybe five four tops…good legs…a body under that lab coat? Pretty…not young, well hell, neither was he, but still attractive…a smile would be nice…

“Mr. Simmons? I’m Doctor Stewart. What seems to be the problem today?”

What, we don’t even look at the fucking chart? I’m holding my gauze wrapped left thumb you twit! Settle, calm down, don’t show irritation at blatant stupidity…

“I was removing some carpet in my family room; I’m replacing it with an oak floor. I was careless and in a hurry.”

“So this was an accident?”

“No, doctor, I decided to end it all by cutting a one inch gash to the bone along the top of my thumb. I realize it’s not the traditional method, but what the heck?”

“Have you ever done something like this before?”

“Not since I was seventeen and as you can see from my chart that was forty years ago.”

“Have you ever thought about taking your own life?”

“Of course, just like everyone else in the world, even thought about how but just couldn’t get past the disgustingly self centered and narcissistic nature of suicide. Should my view change, a carpet knife would not be my self termination tool of choice.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Often and with great satisfaction-cigarettes and cigars.”

“Use alcohol?”

“Daily, usually in moderation unless I’ve been subject to an excessive amount of inane banality…like today.”

“Use drugs?”

“Love Advil and Nyquil, did smoke pot twice, prior to age twenty-five, did inhale didn’t get off on it, nothing past that.”

“Do you own guns and have any in your home?”

“Thirty? No, just got another one, thirty-one? Not as many as I would like…really would like one of those Barrett .50 cal sniper rifles but I just can’t justify the three to four thousand dollars and then I’ve always thought it would be cool to get an NFA and buy a machine gun.”

“Unprotected sex?”

“Only with close friends and family.”

“High risk sexual activity?”

“Well, all sex is pretty high risk; for me at least, I fall in love easily and that can lead to sixteen years of living hell called my first marriage.”

“I mean…”

“Sex with gay men, HIV positive or otherwise? Nope, never got into that. Heterosexual anal sex with or without a condom? Sure, why not, but only after we become really good friends and you have a complete blood work-up.”

“Okay, Mr. Simmons, the injury is a little irregular and on a joint so glue is out…lets numb up that hand of yours and…”

“I’ll pass on the Lidocaine, Doctor, the damned injection is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than a few quick pricks by a small gage needle attached to a piece of silk or whatever in your hopefully skilled hands. Just do it.”

“If your hand moves while I’m trying to work…”

“It won’t but if you have doubts strap it down. A little bondage is good for the soul.”

Dr. Stewart was both efficient and competent. The wound was closed in short order. Mike couldn’t wait to get out of the flimsy paper gown, back in his jeans and out of this insane asylum. The good doctor had other ideas.

“Tetanus shot.”

“If it makes you happy…I had one a year or so ago but whatever…”

“When was the last time you had a complete medical exam, Mr. Simmons?”

“It’s Mike and I really sense you now know more about me than anyone else I know, so I’m certainly ready to go to a first name basis…Doctor. My last complete physical was thirty years ago when I got out of the Army.”


“Martha Stewart? Do I get home made brownies and a floral arrangement along with the exceptional sewing project?”

“Maybe…while you’re here, let me at least listen to your heart, check your skin for irregularities and other problem areas for a man of your age. Remove the gown please.”

Dr. Stewart ran her hands over every inch of Mike’s skin feeling for the deleterious effects of aging and sun that could mean trouble. She found none; she lingered longer than might have been required…just poker oyna being thorough or…?

Nice tight little ass, she thought to herself. Good overall muscle tone, flat tummy, broad shoulders…

It was all Mike could do to keep from getting hard. She had a soft almost sensuous touch.

She’s just looking for melanoma not getting you ready for a fuck…focus…

“Bend forward and spread your cheeks for me, ah, Mike, let’s check the old prostate.”

“I never do this on the first date…no dinner, no kiss, no cuddle?”

Martha had to stifle a laugh. His prostate was fine…her finger lingered in his hot, tight ass…she moved it in an out a few times as if feeling for rectal polyps…or whatever.

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes to stop that, Doctor.”

Martha reluctantly removed her finger. “Let’s check your front side and make sure there’s no indication of testicular abnormality.”

His balls were just fine…so was his cock…nice cock, circumcised…he was responding to her touch…he was fighting it…she looked into his deep blue eyes and smiled, reassuringly, professionally, or…?

He stopped fighting it and grinned. His cock grew very hard in her hands…a little bigger than average seven inches maybe a hair over, nice girth…

“No erectile dysfunction issues, I gather?”

“What’s your professional opinion, doctor?”

“You’re fine…just fine.” She replied, feeling her own first flush of arousal and the telltale moistness between her legs. “You can get dressed now. I’ll give you a prescription for the pain and an oral antibiotic.”

“Skip the Percocet, just the antibiotic.”

“You really need to rest that hand for a few days.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’ll do my best not to mess up your excellent seamstress work but I have a project to finish.”

“Is that what you do for a living, Mike, flooring, carpentry…?”

“Not really, except for good friends. No, this is my own house and my own floor. I hate carpet; ultimately I will replace every inch of it.”

“Why not one of those floating laminate floors, much easier, I would think?”

“You’ve been hanging out at Home Depot™ too much! They look fake and they feel wrong. Red Oak

doesn’t have enough knots and natural imperfections-almost ends up looking, ‘not real’. One thousand square feet of red oak, one board at a time, five coats of polyurethane.”

“A thousand square feet? How long will that take?”

“Well, I cleaned up the carpet debris and laid the felt-roofing paper-before I realized I needed medical attention. The first few boards up against the wall have to be done by hand-each nail hole every six inches pre drilled, driven with a hammer than set below the surface. They’re driven in at an angle into the edge so that they aren’t visible when you are done. Pick each board carefully so that the boards meet in a random but not so random pattern. Drive the boards tightly into place with a rubber mallet.

“After that, an air powered nailer speeds the process up considerably. Tonight I’ll probably follow the doctor’s orders and take it easy…just lay out a few boards. Whenever I wake up, I’ll get to work. I should be able to get all of the boards down by tomorrow night, then sanding and the beginning of the finish, I’m using a water based finish-no fumes, quicker recoat, doesn’t yellow, more durable-and you probably are bored to tears and wish I’d just shut up and get the hell out of your treatment room, aren’t you doc?”

“Not at all Mike! I’m actually quite fascinated. I do love Home Depot™ and my dad taught me how to use tools. I’ve done a Pergo™ floor-you are right, it looks like what it is, laminate…veneer…and some ceramic tile but never tried the real thing like what you are talking about. I have a small oak floor in my entryway…I’d love to expand it but I’m not sure it would be easy to match it.”

“If it’s real oak it’s probably red in this part of the country, white is not typical for floors, it’s pretty easy to tell. Once you sand off the old finish the old oak will look just like the new oak. The wonders of nature…consistency. Then you finish the whole thing-new and old wood-with the same finish and you can’t see the difference. To me it’s a sin to stain oak; I use a clear finish.”

“I’d love to see it.” Martha responded.

“I should be done by six or seven tomorrow evening. If you want to observe the process, drop by earlier but I need to warn you that I am obsessive about these kinds of projects…I don’t stop for visitors. I’ll point you to the beer and a comfortable chair but I won’t be a very accommodating host. I’ll probably sand it tomorrow night and put down the first coat-a sealer-and then the first of the next four or five coats the next morning.”

“‘Need any help?”

“Martha, your hands are probably too valuable to get cut up by oak; it’s a very hard and nasty wood which throws off long hard-as-nails splinters.”

“I have gloves…I’m canlı poker oyna done here tomorrow at noon…I’ll bring lunch…what’s your pleasure?”

“Homemade chicken salad on sourdough?”

“You’ve got it. Wait, your address is here on the chart…how do I get there?”

Mike gave her directions. “I think I was ten the last time a doctor made a house call. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Special service for special patients! It’s a new policy of the HMO.” Martha said, now more openly flirting.

“Right…I look forward to seeing you without that silly white lab coat.” Mike said, wondering if he meant in street clothes or naked. He was pretty sure he meant both. The good doctor was going to get fucked. Any woman who came to his house who was over eighteen and under sixty and not soliciting for the Church of whatever was going to get fucked. It was just a matter of fact. Come to think of it, there had been that little brunette from the church of…?

From Martha’s perspective naked and this man was a very good possibility. She had been divorced longer than she could remember. Her three kids were grown and had long since moved out. She wasn’t dating-let alone-fucking anyone. She needed some cock. If it turned into more than that…


On the off chance that Martha would actually show up, Mike was up very early the next morning. He wanted to have most of the boards laid before he contemplated laying the good doctor. To his pleasant surprise, his doorbell rang at 12:30 on the dot. Standing before him was Doctor Stewart, picnic basket in hand, wearing a simple, sleeveless print dress which came a few inches above her knees. Handsome women he thought to himself. Wonder if she’s a natural red head? He’d know soon enough; all the signs were right. She’d come to his house to get fucked. He had no intention of disappointing.

“Good timing! I’ve only got a couple of more boards to lay so you can at least see the process, then I can take a break.”

Martha laid out the eats in the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and came back in to watch Mike work. He explained what he was doing as he went along. Within fifteen minutes the last board was in place.

“What’s next?”

“As far as the floor goes, sanding everything smooth, removing every spec of dust, than the sealer, more sanding and dust removal-and so on until I’ve got four or five coats of finish down-can’t do more than three, including the sealer in a single twenty-four hour period.”

“So it’s lunch time?” she inquired.

“I could definitely eat.”

Chicken salad was one of Mike’s favorite things to eat…other than fresh pussy of course. Martha’s chicken salad was absolutely phenomenal. Damn near as good as his own and his was nothing to sneeze at. Now if her pussy was as scrumptious as her chicken salad, it would be a very satisfying afternoon. They cleaned up the dishes and such together in the kitchen and then returned to the family room sofa to finish their beer.

He’s a damn good looking man, Martha thought to herself. I have no doubt that he knows he’s going to fuck me but he had no idea what he is in for. Time for the tour.

“Show me your house, Mike. From what I’ve seen so far I have high expectations. Oh, on another note, we drew blood when you were in yesterday as you may remember. Just thought you’d like to know everything came back just fine-great cholesterol numbers, no infections or abnormalities.”

“Good to know. Well, you’ve seen most of the down stairs and there is a fully finished walk out basement but why don’t we hit the upstairs first.”

Of course he wants me to go first. He’s checking out my butt. Men are so delightfully transparent-that’s why I love ’em. Wonder if he’ll notice that I’m not wearing a damn thing under this dress…well other than an acrylic butt plug…seldom leave home without one…have so many…

A thong or nothing, Mike couldn’t be certain but if he’d had to bet it would have been nothing.

“This master bath is absolutely amazing! I love the huge walk-in shower. Looks like you forgot to drain the tub…damn! That’s a huge Jaccuzi™!”

“I got tired of waiting for it to fill every time I wanted to get in. The whirlpool jets helps smooth out the kinks in the joints-particularly after a project like the floor. I ripped out the one the builder installed, put in one twice the size, piped it through a solar panel on the roof and a high tech filtration system-no chorine, bromine which is almost undetectable-added a 12,000 watt electric heater for cloudy days and nights and so on.”

“It looks very inviting.” Martha intoned, pulling her single garment over her head and stepping into the tub. “No use beating around the bush at our age-is there Mike?”

“Oh, my…a woman after my own heart.” Mike replied, quickly doffing his shirt and shorts and joining the natural red head. Not a lot of hair down there…just enough to be interesting.

“A quick review of the rules seems internet casino prudent, Mike. I’m fifty years old. My former husband and the father of my children-well, at least of two of them-is a worthless loser. Ended up paying the prick alimony because he couldn’t get a job-for ten damn years! I never, ever intend to be or desire to be married again. I don’t even want to live under the same roof with a man-I have a home of my own. Going out on the town has long since lost its allure. I love to cook and I can be very OCD so I always clean up after I’m done.

“In spite of my obsessive attempts to keep my body looking younger than my fifty years, my cunt-after three children and the ravages of age-is not as tight as I might like and I’ll be damned if I’ll submit to surgery to correct any flaws. You welcome to fuck me there but, in spite of your better than average endowment I doubt that you’ll find it terribly satisfying. I like it-no, love it, need it and have to have it-up the butt, Mike. It’s the only way I can really get of with a man.

“I also love to suck cock-even more than I like to have my pussy eaten. I might be one of the few women in the world that can actually cum while sucking cock. I also enjoy toys, spanking, a little bondage, exhibitionism-pretty much anything that doesn’t leave marks. I’m not particularly bi, but if you’ve got a girl friend who is up for it, I’d certainly be up for a three-way but two guys turns me off…too damn gay.

“I don’t remotely expect exclusivity but for God’s sake if you’re fucking someone else while you’re fucking me, wear a condom! I’ll observe the same precautions. I test myself regularly and if you and I engage in anything regular-I’ll draw some of your blood at regular intervals.

“Don’t ask to borrow money from me nor will I ask you for money. If we do go out-straight Dutch treat. When it’s not fun for you anymore or if the sex doesn’t live up to your expectations-just tell me, I’m a big girl and I will in turn be every bit as blunt with you. Do not get clingy or jealous; we are not courting and there is no future and damn sure no wedding dress or whatever.

“You were trying to hold back your erection yesterday when I was finger fucking your ass. It would appear that you are not doing so right now…impressive…damn nice! When you fuck me in the ass I want it long, deep and hard so I always find it helpful to start with the blow job if you have no objections.”

“You talk too much, doctor.” Mike said, moving up and sitting on the edge of the tub, stroking his rock hard tool in anticipation. Martha was on it in a flash.

Damn! For a small woman, she sure can take a lot of cock-fuck!

Mike had certainly had his dick sucked more than he could count in his fifty-eight years. There were two or three that ranked at the very top of his list-his ex-wife had certainly not been one of them. In short order, Mike knew he might have just met his match. This was not an eager yet inexperienced eighteen year old like the skinny blond up the street who came by one day to sell magazine subscriptions to help pay for college. This was an experienced woman who thoroughly enjoyed what she did so well. Damn!

He would look back on that afternoon fondly for many years to come even though his memory would be a little jumbled and disjointed. The scene would be repeated…the script often very similar to the first time.

Mike enjoyed eating pussy as much as Martha enjoyed a dick in her mouth so she allowed him ample opportunity to enjoy one of his favorite pastimes.

Eat your hot little slot first…take the edge off…make you cum…relax…then flip you over flat…spread your ass with my hands…perfect anal slut, spreading your own ass…work that tight little ass…lick it, tongue fuck it …you know what I want…you raise your ass off the bed to meet me…a folded pillow under you to get the right angle…your fingers drop to your slippery girl hole…my tongue finds its mark…need to talk…tell you what I want…what you are going to give me.

“You like my tongue in your ass, don’t you, Martha? Tell me how much you like to have a man tongue fuck your nasty little butt…you know what he is preparing you for…you’ve done it before…many times…you like it there…need it there.”

“I like it there…like your tongue in my ass…know what is coming…know you’re going to put your cock there…fuck me there…sodomize me…butt fuck me…need the ass fuck…”

Your fingers in your pussy, mine too from behind as I begin to breath hard, excruciatingly aroused almost out of control as I inhale your musk…your funk…you’re fucking my tongue with your skinny little butt…makes me even hotter…glad I let you blow me…last longer in that tight little furnace…new woman, new rectum…almost delirious with lust. Your tight little opening is calling to me…begging me to fuck it.

Hot little cunt…fuck toy…dirty whore, wonderfully nasty little fuck bitch…slow down, get control…shove it in that slimy little pussy first…where is that fucking black plastic bottle? Finger inside…you respond…two fingers…lube…your ass and my cock…I’m so fuckin’ hard…you’re so nasty…now, no more pussy-it’s time.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir

kartal escort didim escort antep escort tuzla escort adapazarı escort adapazarı escort escort ankara izmir partner escort konyaaltı escort bahis siteleri bahis siteleri bahis siteleri bahis siteleri bahis siteleri canlı bahis sakarya escort adana escort