The Nurse's Uniform

Regulars to this series will know the score by now, newcomers are strongly urged to go back to Part 1.

This is a story about doctors and nurses, and a few other people. It is a long story, a complicated story and a fucking horny story, even if I do say so myself. It was horny to me writing it and I hope it will be as horny for you reading it.

I am planning to present the story to Lit in a series of parts over the next few months, so you will have something to read as we go through autumn. I wonder how far we will have got before winter sets in?

The story revolves around sex in many forms. The theme of it is how a doctor treats people who are, in one way or another, sexually dysfunctional, so on one level it is a medical story. All the characters in the story who are not his patients, however, are as equally sexually dysfunctional somehow, so on another level it is pure erotica. On yet another level the story looks at how clothing promotes, influences, affects and conditions sexual behaviour; there are lots of descriptions of sexy nurses uniforms and ladies panties.

I really hope you enjoy what may well be my magnum opus and possibly my last submission to Lit erotica. Do let me know won't you?

*

Chapter 1

A pattern developed over the next few weeks.

Sammi and Mike maintained the hot atmosphere between them, but neither pushed it further, although Sammi now regularly wore no panties to work.

She became used to hearing about the most lurid experiences and making notes about them in Dr Steven's consulting room.

Of women: who had been raped or wanted to be raped, wanted to be abused demeaned and humiliated, wished to be dominated or to dominate, wanted sex with other women or was worried about having sex with them, who felt they were nymphomaniacs or were scared they were frigid, who had committed incest or was strongly tempted to do so, who didn't have orgasms and those that had them too easily and on and on. Men who wanted a whole myriad of sexual experiences, or who wanted to rid themselves of what they considered were the perversions of extreme sexual behaviour. The sexual sufferings seemed endless.

Mike patiently listened to their woes, slowly and expertly then taking them back in time gradually revealing the cause and thus starting to cure the neuroses.

It was fascinating for Sammi to be part of this, but also a little worrying. Each evening when they ran through the cases she found it more and more difficult to remain detached from it all. It was nearly impossible for her not to confuse what she read from her notes to Mike with the clear sexual attraction that she had for him and, increasingly she felt, him for her.

To be talking about a patient that was regularly indulging in threesome, or one that had told them about how her lover tied her hands and ankles to the bed and then fucked her with a vibrator for hours on end, as she sat on a couch with Mike, his leg occasionally touching hers, tested both their resistances.

Claire was not at all sure that they had that resistance. As she worked in her chambers or spoke in court, she often imagined Mike with Sammi. At times, the vision she had of them was so powerful and then she would have to masturbate. For that was her thing. Not, as Mike thought and half hoped, a lust for Sammi, girls just didn't do it for Claire, but a lust to think of him with other women. Often she had thought of suggesting that he shag another girl while she watched, but she was not sure their relationship was strong enough for her to suggest that.

Emma was busy. She had to front up the Saudi's British operation for the clinic. Not only would La Crème, of course, supply all the staff, earning nice fat fees for providing them, but she also had to handle all the logistics for establishing the clinic in the almost new building they had bought near Windsor.

She had flown to Riyadh to sign the contracts and had been quite upset to see just how frail Abdullah was. Frail yes, but not to the extent that all of his sex drive had gone, although he probably could not have shagged her. He was, though, with her help able to get an erection and Emma was pleased to suck his dick until she made him cum in her mouth.

"We have no appointments next Wednesday," Sammi said to Mike as she did her rolling seven day plan.

"No, that's right, I am interviewing all day."

"What for?"

"The new venture I told you about."

"Oh I see," she replied, feeling a little hurt that he had not confided more in her about it.

"In any case, it's your three month review with La Crème on that day, so you wouldn't be around would you?"

"Oh right."

"So how is it going with the delightful Mike?" Emma asked Sammi the following Wednesday in her office.

Sammi had arrived a little early and had seen a number of, quite dishy as it turned out, youngish guys, between probably eighteen and thirty five in and around the reception area. She had not thought much about it for she was then called in to see Emma.

"It's going good, I really enjoy it?"

"And him?"

"Him what?"

"Do you enjoy him, have you enjoyed him," the older woman asked with a glint in her eye.

Sammi didn't smile for it was, after all, a bit near to home.

"I enjoy working with him if that's what you mean Emma," she replied rather coldly.

Emma smiled. "Well what ever, he speaks very well of you."

"Good I'm pleased."

They talked for some time reviewing every aspect of the job and Sammi's performance.

"Well that seems to be about everything to do with this posting Sammi," Emma said her eyes boring into the younger woman's. She really was a lovely looking girl and Emma was easily able to imagine her naked, exactly how, right at this moment she would like her, but this was not the time for that sort of thing, later maybe, she smiled to herself as she said.

"Right Sammi, I want to talk to you about another project you might be interested in."

"But I'm happy with Mike, er Dr Stevens," Sammi replied.

Emma smiled at her, as she walked round the desk and sat on the edge of it, one of her long bare legs stretched out towards the blonde. "I'm sure you are, wouldn't any girl be happy with the dishy doctor?"

Emma hadn't bothered to adjust her skirt, which had ridden well up her tanned, lithe thighs as she went on.

"This has to be in total confidence Sam."

"Of course," "Sammi almost gulped, unable to tear her eyes away from the dangling leg with its expanse of golden flesh.

"The project is with Mike, he is starting a new clinic."

"Oh yes, he mentioned it."

"I shall be the manager of the place and responsible for many things including recruiting all the staff and managing all the non medical personnel including nurses and consultant assistants."

"I see," the younger woman said, wondering where this was all leading.

"And I would like you to join us Sammi."

"Really, but isn't it in Windsor? That's such a long journey."

"It would be residential, you would get free accommodation and food."

"Oh I see," Sammi said, her mind working out just how much she could save.

"And as my assistant and Mike's personal aide there would be a significant rise, most of which, due to the overseas status of the financiers of the clinic, would be paid into an offshore bank account free of tax"

"Wow, how much?"

"The salary?"

"Yes," Sammi said although she had really meant how much would be paid tax free.

"You're on what, thirty three now aren't you?" Emma asked moving her dangling leg back and forward almost touching Sammi's jeans.

"Yes, well thirty two nine hundred."

"Well due to the increased responsibility and the longer hours due to living in, this would be fifty thousand pounds with twenty being paid tax free."

Chapter 2

"It's a completely new form of therapy Sam." Mike said a few days later when they had their meeting about Sammi's new position.

He had updated her on the plans and progress with the clinic; they had discussed and agreed her job specification with Mike saying how pleased he was that Sammi had agreed terms with Emma.

"So what's so revolutionary about it?" Sammi asked stretching her legs out before her the buttons on the coat straining in the buttonholes, the hem riding up her thighs. She was far more relaxed around Mike than she had been, but that did nothing for how she made him feel. He simply could not take his eyes from her, particularly, when he realised that she now went commando every day. Each time he saw her from behind and particularly if she bent over the absence of any form of VPL at all just sent his blood pressure soaring and his pulses racing. How he resisted pushing her forward, laying her chest on his couch or desk, ripping her coat up from the back and fucking her doggy style he had no idea?

What made his hunger for her even worse was Claire. She talked about Sammi as much he did. She had seen her photo on Mike's PC and as she and Mike made love she would bring Sammi's name up.

"I bet you would like that blonde hair tumbling over your belly, not my tatty mousy stuff wouldn't you?" had been the start. Now, though talking about his assistant had become part of their lovemaking.

"She hasn't got tits like these."

"I bet her nipples are like little pimples."

"You would like to fuck her, wouldn't you?"

"Would you like to fuck her as I watched?"

Were all questions and statements that were said as Mike and Claire made love. It was an odd addition to their repertoire and something that was never mentioned other than during sex.

"It's called intereactionary neuroses therapy." Mike told Sammi, who raised her eyebrows for she had never heard of it, despite all the reading she had recently done on treating sexually related emotional inhibition factors.

"So how's it work?"

"Well basically getting the patient to act out their problems."

"How?"

"Like a role-play really."

"What do you mean?"

"Using another party to help release the neuroses."

"Not sure I follow," Sammi said a little pissed off that she was not understanding what Mike was trying to explain.

"Well let's take Mrs Brawson for example."

"The one who is toying with a lesbian affair and is scared?"

"Exactly. In her case she would be encouraged under sedation to have sex with another woman."

"What as we observe?"

"Sort of yes."

"How do you mean sort of?"

"Well this is the difficult part Sammi."

"Really?"

"Yes"

"Why?" Sammi asked thinking she probably knew the answer.

"I observe, you take part, you are in the role-play."

"Jesus Christ, you are fucking joking aren't you?" She couldn't help blurting out.

"No, not at all," Mike replied a little coldly, realising this was not going as he had hoped.

"Can't you use hookers or something?"

"No, the only way the BMA are prepared to license this new form of therapy is if trained medical practitioners are in the role-play. That's why I have been doing all the interviews recently, especially of male nurses."

"Oh at Emma's the other day?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think they will go along with it?"

"Well fifty grand a year helps and the results of Emma's tests tell us they are emotionally prepared to be sexually experimental and that they do not hold conventional views on sex."

"The tests I did as well?"

"Yes Sammi that is why Emma put you forward to me and why I hired you."

Chapter 3

Emma knew that it was going to be a tough night. Both brothers were in town and she had been summoned to one of their country homes to the south-west of London, not far from Windsor Great Park and Ascot racecourse.

"The car will collect you at ten," Sunni had said, immediately then cutting the connection.

She had had no contact with either of the brothers or Abdullah since she had modelled the nurses uniform for Ahmad a month or so ago. This wasn't unusual for they had a team of lackey managers, mostly Lebanese or Egyptian, who handled the details of the family's business arrangements; that is if you could call spending near to twenty million pounds on clinic, a detail. But then, when a family is worth billions and earns tax free profits from a multitude of business of nearly two million pounds a day, what's the odd twenty million?

Although the brothers had immense power, after all he and Sunni were related to the Saudi royal family, a cousin was a minister in the government, they "ran" a vast business empire and could really buy and have anything they wanted, little things impressed them so much.

"You shaved that for me Emma?" Ahmad had said as he sat in that chair naked, his hard, throbbing cock in his hand.

"Yes Ahmad," Emma had replied as she stood close to him, her fantastic, heavily nippled tits sticking out from the unbuttoned tunic, her bare pussy on show where she had lifted the hem. "I shaved my pussy for you, because you asked me."

"You are so good to me Emma, thank you," he said as the older woman moved alongside the chair turning so that she faced his knees. This had become something of a ritual between them when they had sex

Emma bent over, so she was less than ninety degrees at the waist. She took his cock in her hands as she stuck her bum out, opened her legs and leaned further forward. As she licked his cock and started to run her mouth up and down its length, all of her womanly places were available to the young man. He alternated between running his hands over her tits and pussy to sliding them along the crease of her ass. He licked her bum, pinched her nipples and slid his fingers into her soaked pussy and tight anus. As all the time she fellated him.

She was good at it, very good and she prided herself on being good. She was very aware that she was aging and that the power in the company was passing from Abdullah to the two sons. They could buy anything and anybody, especially women, and Emma was determined not to be cast aside for some young bamboos. Ok they might have them as well, as of course Abdullah always had, but she was determined that they should be in addition to Emma, not in place of her.

So as his hips started to surge, as his fingers dug deeper into her flesh, as his breath started to pant, as his cock throbbed harder and as he began to fuck Emma's face, she maintained her sucking rhythm. Not once, not for a moment did she vary or hesitate. Not for a second was any doubt conveyed to the Arab whose cock was buried deep in Emma's face and whose fingers were up her cunt and arse. There was absolutely no thought on her part, or consideration on his about the outcome, about what was to happen, about how they would culminate this first sexual act of the evening. He was going to shoot his cum into her mouth and, looking him right in the eye and smiling slightly, she would swallow it.

As Emma prepared for the evening ahead at the grand country estate, she recalled the splash of Ahmad's sperm on her tongue and the back of her mouth and the slight gagging feeling as she held his cock there whilst it unloaded its acrid cargo. It wasn't that unpleasant, but like anal sex, she thought, it was more for the man than the woman. But then hey, isn't that what the world is all about? And if she was really honest with herself, which she tried to be to keep her feet on the ground, she wasn't that keen on men cumming in her mouth. There was little or no physical sensation for her; it was more an emotional charge, but then one of doing something special for him as opposed to him for her. But in the shadowy Arab world of part businesswoman, part lover, part mistress, part courtesan near hooker she inhabited, she did not have the choice of choosing where her men's' spunk was deposited. Having it on her tits, face and bum, up her pussy and ass and in her face was the price she paid, willingly, for the reward that was now over half a million a year.

Her mobile rang.

"Hello Mrs Emma, its Kahalid here," she heard realising it was one of the family's drivers.

Emma panicked a bit.

"Shit what's the time?"

"It's ok Mrs, it is only nine."

"Phew, I thought I was late."

"No I am early, I have a package for you, I will wait."

Just what it is that men have about PVC, Emma had no idea, but that was what was in the package. PVC panties and bra, a neck halter, arm and wrist bands together with black, seemed, fishnet hold ups and high, high, pointed stilettos.

"Wear just these under your fur," the handwritten note ordered.

Emma had never been to Ascot Park before. It was a huge house in massive grounds situated in one of the most expensive areas of countryside in the world.

She was shown into a sitting room where a flunky offered her a drink. She opted for mineral water, for two reasons. One she reckoned she would need a clear head tonight and she had no need of alcohol to loosen her sexual inhibitions; she didn't have any. And two, out of respect for the Saudis who, although they did use alcohol, still had hang ups about the religious connotations, so for all the time she had been involved, she never touched it unless they did as well.

It was warm and the fur was making it even hotter, but her instinct told her to keep it on. She did though unbutton it and stood before a mirror.

The black PVC of the deep cut bra and thong and the accompaniments were set off well by her skin tone that, although by no means white, she had an olivey tone, emphasised their blackness. The extraordinarily high heels had been difficult to walk in at first, but she was pleased with the effect they had on her calf muscles, for they pushed them up and with the black fishnet made her long legs look even more slender than they were. The bra was tight so it pushed her tits together and formed a deep cleavage, but the material was surprisingly thin so that each nipple was clearly on show through it. The thong was also tight and cut steeply up her groins making her pleased that she had shaved her pubes, for there were no straggling hairs poking out of the thong to spoil the effect.

"Wonderful Emma, you look just right," she heard one of them say.

Turning, the fur coat open so her body and the erotic gear was on show she beamed a smile at the two brothers. Both were wearing the long robes that all Arabs wear, dish dashes as they were commonly known, that looked like nightdresses, Emma always thought.

She knew from seeing them before that the brother's robes were made from the finest silk, so that in the heat of Riyadh, they would be cool and smooth to the bodies.

"Thank you Sunni," Emma replied walking over to where the two brothers were standing, loosely holding hands.

She leaned forward and kissed, firstly Sunni and then Ahmad on both cheeks. They both ran their hand up her bare back.

"Yes," Ahmad whispered, "you look wonderful."

Just why they had asked her to wear the PVC, Emma never found out, for soon after that first kiss they were undoing the clasp of the bra, easing her boobs from the cups, pushing her thong to one side and groping her everywhere. She fully responded, though, for Emma was very aware that they needed and, indeed, demanded her full involvement.

As the pair of them kissed and caressed her, firstly standing up, then sitting and half lying on a sofa and then full length on the thick Wilton carpet, so her bra and thong came off and so she established that both of them were naked under the floor length robes. Not just naked but now rampantly erect.

Emma was now just wearing the PVC wrist and armbands, the halter round her neck and the long, black, seamed, fishnet hold-ups. She looked fabulous.

They made no effort to remove their silk robes and Emma did nothing about them either. She had learned over the years that Saudi men did not welcome women taking the lead in an overt way, like undoing their zip or initiating any form of sex; after all in their heavily male oriented society women did have a very clear place, and that certainly was not ripping their lover's dish dashes off.