Milf Anesthetist

I felt hands on my waist and a deep rich voice whisper in my ear "So how is my favorite MILF Anesthetist?"

I whirled around and gave Jamal an enthusiastic hug and a quick peck on the lips. "She's good! How is my favorite Hunky Resident?"

"All good here...I didn't know you were coming to this...so it just got a whole lot better!"

"See, it is exactly that kind of flattery that makes me want to melt in your arms...and you are the only man to refer to me as a MILF, which while not accurate, is kind of juicy..."

"It's perfectly accurate! I would love to F... you!"

"Thank you for THAT, but I am not a mother. Merely a step-mother..."

"Well, OK. So technically, just the I. L. F. part is true then!"

I felt that this was getting a little out of hand, so switched topics. "What do you think of the accommodations? My room is palatial compared with last year's."

"Well this is the first one of these that I've have attended, so I have nothing to compare it to. "

Glancing down at my left hand, Jamal said, "Looks like someone isn't wearing her wedding ring."

"Yeah, I decided to be single again this weekend."

"Oh, I didn't realize it worked like that. So I can get married, but just go out to a bar, take off my ring and be single again? Shit, I'd known that, I would have been married for years..."

"Well, it works that way for me. For us. I won't allow him to do that, because I am very jealous...But when he is gone he encourages me to flirt and have fun. As long as I tell him about it afterwards. He has been gone for three weeks already, and as usual he gave me his blessing for...whatever..."

I had told Parker about Jamal, and the two had met at the Christmas party. Parker had encouraged me to see where the flirtation might lead, but I was afraid to. Parker and I had a good thing going and I didn't want to endanger it. While he might like the idea of me coloring outside the lines, he might not actually like the result.

I said, "Well I'm going to go get another glass of wine. You want anything, or are you good?"

"I am good, and I want everything. But I'll settle for another glass of red, as well."

I smiled at his comment and then threaded my way off to the bar.

When I returned about 10 minutes later, I found him engaged in close conversation with a pretty young woman, so I handed him his glass, gave him a thumbs up sign and a "Buena suerte Matador " wink, and walked out to the patio for a smoke.

It was getting dark, and the post-conference happy hour was winding down. I had just finished my cigarette when again I felt hands on my waist, and turned to find Jamal had snuck up on me.

"Damn. You're like a ninja. I didn't even hear you approach. Did you make plans with Miss Junior Hotness to go out clubbin' later?"

"No. She was cute, but she is a little young for my taste. I prefer women with some miles on the odometer. I find that they are more inclined to know what they want and know how to get it."

"Well, maybe so, but I know that we old hags are just as likely to be psycho bitches as the young ones. Most of the middle-aged women I know that are single are bat shit crazy. Maybe fun in bed , hell, maybe fabulous in bed, but crazy as hell. Anyway, I think that this old hag is going to go and order a nice big Caesar from room service, open a nice bottle of Malbec from Trader Joe's, and soak in the tub. Good to see you again kiddo."

And with that, I sauntered off toward the elevator. A doctor that I knew from work was already inside, but was holding the door for me.

"Hey, Alexandria, wait up!" And Jamal hurried to join us.

The doctor asked what floors, and I answered "Four" and Jamal said "Five."

When we reached my floor I gave them both a cheery wave and stepped into my hall.

Once inside my room, I opened the wine to let it breathe then called room service. They expected the order to be delivered in 15 minutes so I decided to grab a quick shower instead of a lengthy bath. If I felt extravagant, I could always run a tub afterward. The shower felt wonderful. I hated that I had started smoking again, and found that I showered and brushed my teeth about 500 times a day to get the smell off of me. I soaped up and luxiuriated in the feel of the slippery soap on my smooth skin. As I ran my hands over my hips , I couldn't help but recall the feel of Jamal's strong hands which had touched me there not a half hour before. I reduced the water to a warm trickle, and soaped up breasts, pulling on my sensitive nipples. Next I ran the bar of soap down my belly, using the smooth edge to stimulate my hairless sex. Spreading my labia, I ran my slippery fingers up and down, lightly inserting two, while stimulating my clit with my other hand. Thinking of Jamal's sexy voice in my ear. Remembering the way we had danced at the Christmas party, his hands circling my waist, and then inappropriately placed on the top of my butt... Parker had been with me at the Christmas party. When I had pointed out Jamal's roaming hands, Parker had merely laughed and said, "Hey you can't blame the guy. You have a fabulous body and that tight red lycra doesn't exactly hide your, uh, attributes!" It was true-various co-workers had taken my picture that night with their cell phones, and I had a quite a collection on my phone as a result. In most of them, it did appear that my breasts were on the verge of escaping and going home with whomever they liked... And in some of the pictures, my dress was hiked up high enough to expose the bands of my thigh highs... "Oh GOD, "I cried as I brought myself to a swift climax.

I rinsed off, stepped out of the shower and heard knocking and "Room Service!"

"Shit!" I had taken longer in the shower than intended...lust tends to make one lose track of time! Hastily I whirled a towel around my head, and still dripping shrugged into my robe.

I signed for my meal, tipped the guy, and smiled at the way he ogled me. My summer robe is thin and white and since I hadn't had time to dry off, fairly clingly and sheer. I looked down at my chest and realized that my nipples, erect from the combination of the AC and my recent orgasm, were plainly visible. It was actually worse than being nude.

I had no more closed than the door, and set my try down, when I heard urgent knocking at the door. Assuming that the room service guy had forgotten to hand me my croutons or something, I opened, stupidly, without checking.

It was Jamal.

"Hey, I was just passing by and smelled me some Malbec, some a that good Trader Joe's shit!"

Both of Jamal's parents had been doctors in their native Jamaica, and he had been raised in the UK. Hearing him trying to talk "street" was always pretty funny. Laughing, and against my better judgment, I opened the door wide to let him through.

I didn't want him to see me this exposed, so I bade him to help himself to the wine and I scurried off to dry off and put on some clothes. Over my shoulder, I called out, "What did you do, lurk in the hall until a food service trolley came up?"

"You got it. The first one was the wrong room. Scared the shit out of some Japanese dude. But the second one, was well, hole in two..."

"Ya know, if Mr. Room service interrupted your bath, you know I can come in and scrub your back...You, know, just trying to be neighborly. "

"You're not my neighbor, fucker. You live on the hoity toity fifth floor, with your posh accent... And no, I just finished," I emphasized " finished" as it was Parker's and my code for orgasm...

I dried myself off thoroughly, except for my hair. My hair is shoulder length and thick, and drying it is non-trivial. I put on a white lace demi bra and wished that I had thought to bring panties. Next I pulled on one of Parker's old button down shirts. The shirt tails came down mid-thigh, so it worked well as a dress, and was well- worn and comfy. You could tell that my bra was lace through the white shirt, but only if you looked closely.

I came back out of the dressing room, my hair a still dripping mass, soaking my shoulders and back.

Jamal had poured us both glasses of wine and we silently clinked glasses, making eye contact. No seven years of bad sex for me.

I sat on the desk chair, as he had settled on the edge of my bed. He got up and went into the bathroom and came out with a fresh towel and my comb from the counter. "You're still dripping, girl. Let me towel that big ass '80's hair of yours."

He spun the chair around so I was facing the desk, and incidentally the mirror, and began to gently towel dry my hair while I sipped my wine and tried not to moan out loud. It felt wonderful. Standing behind me, I could see his dark hands working the white towel in the mirror.

"You know, I said, " this whole surgeon thing doesn't work out for you, I have a cousin with a salon in Tucson. She would hire you in a minute. "

"Sheeitt. No way I'm gonna be no token Salon Negro. Uh UH!"

I giggled. "You know, someday I'm going to buy you Rosetta Stone or something so you can learn to talk African America Street properly. You sound less credible than me. And I am as white as that towel..."

"You're looking pretty tanned, actually, Lex"

"Shit is fake. I get it from a booth. I never tan. I just turn cooked lobster color. Parker loves the contrast on my....well he loves the contrast, so I do it for him. He likes how it shows up in photos."

"I could really run with that...man, the thought of a photo session with you...I still have pics I took of you at that Christmas party on my phone!"

"I'm sure! I imagine you have more interesting subjects than a middle-aged woman to take pictures of!"

He tossed the towel onto the desk and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. Handing it to me, he reached over my shoulder to activate the screen...My image appeared immediately: He had saved my pic as his wallpaper. In the photo I am smiling widely at someone to his left, and the demarcation between my naturally white skin and the artificial tan is clearly visible. It is visible because my red dress had slid down so low that my left areola was exposed...

Quietly he said, "Everytime I answer the phone, everytime I google, everytime I make a call, I get to see you in that tight red dress...Here, look what else..." And reaching around me, he effectively trapped me in his arms as he again flicked the screen, scrolling to a new folder. This position placed his mouth right by my ear, and his breath on my neck gave me goosebumps.

He opened the folder which proved to be all candid shots of me: More from the Christmas party, one where I was sitting down and my stocking tops are revealed, many from the parking lot at work as I am getting on or off of my scooter...

"I'm not sure if I should be creeped-out or flattered," I said, trying for levity, our eyes locked on each other's in the mirror.

He went on as though I hadn't spoken.

"I was attracted to you the minute I met you. You were in scrubs, so I really had no idea you were hiding all this..." He gestured meaningfully at my chest, and moved his arms up and down for emphasis. His arms were still wrapped around me, and when he moved in that manner, it had the effect of caressing the very sensitive sides of my breasts, through my thin bra and all. In the mirror, I could easily discern my arousal, my nipples were bullets poking through both layers of fabric...

"You came up to me and said, 'Welcome to the ER. I'm Alexandria.' And you shook my hand like you meant it. None of the hesitation of 'oh, scary black guy in our nice clean ER. Oh, he's wearing a mask, he must be a robber.'"

Again I tried to lighten the mood: "Well, you know, skin color has never been something that bothered me. For one thing, I always wished I had some skin color! No, I save up all of my prejudice for Twisted Christians. Fundamentalists. Mormons. Like that."

Again he went on, staring at me in the mirror, his low voice right in my ear, as though I hadn't spoken. "So, no I didn't know your body was so fine until Christmas. Then I was like, 'Damn I want some of that.' Could you feel me when we danced? When I had my hands on your ass. I was trying like everything to manouvre you over to under the mistletoe, but you were wily...Could you feel my hard cock poking you in the belly...?"

"Yessss. I knew you were hard. I was so wet after dancing with you that I made Parker leave. I couldn't wait. I sat on his cock in the front seat of the car...I came as soon as he was inside me..."

He placed his phone in my hands. Engulfing mine with his large but strangely delicate hands, he directed my fingers to activate the camera feature. Speaking in a hoarse whisper, now directly in my ear, his breath warm and shivery at the same time on my tender neck, he said, "Now you're going to take some pictures of you, of us, to add to my collection."

Releasing my hands, he drew his own to my chest. Spreading his fingers wide, they splayed out like the dark branches of a tree against the white of my blouse, completely covering my breasts. "Take it!" he hissed.

And holding the phone in front of me, I watched what unfolded for the next few minutes , as though at some remove, through the screen of his smart phone...

He dropped his hands lower and cupped my breasts. "Take it."

I did. I did as directed, as though in a trance.

He reached up and undid my top button. Snick went the camera.

Then another button, and another. Once the tops of my breasts were exposed, the thin demi bra barely covering the nipples, he took a few pictures himself, from above my shoulder, looking down into the cleft between my breasts.

Handing the phone back to me, he pushed the blouse down off of my left shoulder. Snick. Then the right shoulder. Snick. Next he reached down again and lifted my breasts up, forcing my full tits almost out of my bra, his hands acting as a push up bra on steroids.

"God damn. How big are they?"

"Double D. 36 DD, usually."

"Jesus. I feel like a kid who just found a 20 dollar bill on the sidewalk in front of a candy store! I knew I loved the feel of your ass, but these..."

He was silent for a few moments, playing with his new toys through my bra.

"Lexy, did you bring any stockings with you?"

"I did, I'll get..."

"No you stay put. Don't move. I"ll find them. He disappeared into the dressing area, and emerged a moment later holding them up, like a trophy, along with my heels. "Damn, girl, you pack light. Every woman I know would have dragged along a whole fucking closet. You're like Indiana Jones: leather jacket, .45 revolver, and a bullwhip."

"Oh, shit, I forgot the bullwhip. It was right there next to my .45, too."

He rolled my chair straight back and knelt before me. Lifting a leg, he rolled the stocking on. I shuddered as his hands worked their way up my thighs. Then the other leg. Now, like a shoe salesman, he placed my feet in the red fuck -me pumps that I had brought just in case... He unbuttoned the lower most two buttons on my shirt, so that now it opened like a front slit skirt, the tops of my stockings, an inch or more of thigh exposed. Unbidden, I took a picture of my newly exposed thighs.

"That's my girl! Showing some initiative!"

He stood , retrieved the camera from me, and took a series of high angle pictures, which I later learned, nicely showed off my breasts, down to my legs. He stepped back and took more from the side.

Backing away he switched to video and commanded, "Get up and walk toward me."

I did.

"Now turn around and walk over to the bed."

I did.

"Bend over the bed. Spread your legs a little more...More. That's it. That is SO it. I knew you wouldn't be wearing any panties. I just knew it. I couldn't feel any at Christmas...Oh Fuck, and you shave... Don't move." His voice sounded strained.

"Laser," I said mechanically." I had laser hair removal. I represent the high cost of low maintenance..." He came around so that he could shoot from across the bed, my breasts hanging barely contained in the bra. I supported myself on my elbows and looked right at him. The attention, and the tension was murderous. My heart was racing and my breathing was ragged. I could feel myself growing slick with desire.

"OK, now on the bed. On your back. One knee up. Finish unbuttoning for me. That's my girl. Can you take that bra off now? Can you do that shimmy trick where you get it off without removing your shirt.

I did.

"Now I want one where you tangle your hands up in your bra, overhead, like the bra has been used to handcuff you...Oh very nice. And spread your legs wide. Let me see it. You're getting wet, huh. Your pussy is glistening. She's practically quivering with anticipation..."

"Ok, now toss the bra away and cup them both, offer them to me, you want me to have them. You can hardly wait for my lips to be on them... "

He was right. I could hardly contain my excitement. I could no longer suppress my moans. Once I started playing with my tits, squeezing them, tweaking my nipples, I was truly lost. There was absolutely no way that we were going to quietly say good night and march off to our separate beds...Again, of my own volition I sent my right hand slithering down and spread my lips for his inspection. Sliding a finger in, then three, then plunging fingers in while I played with my clit...I exploded again. Glancing at him, I saw that sometime in the last few minutes he had taken his cock out and was stroking it one handed, while watching my action through the view finder. It was the first erection I had seen in three weeks and it looked good, just a nicely proportioned cock attached to a very handsome, fit young man...

"Now it's my turn," panting from my second orgasm of the evening, I gestured for him to pass me his camera. "Take your shirt off. Rip that fucker off. I want to see your chest. Hold it up for me. Have it smile for the camera...You're dripping, too huh." A shimmery drop of precum hung like a jewel from the tip of his hard cock. Setting the phone carefully on the nightstand, propped it up so that it would record at least some of the action, I motioned him to sit on the edge of the bed. I rolled off the other side and came around to kneel between his knees. He was placed so that his mid-section and the side of my hand would be in the video frame.

Some women will suck cock if begged. Some will do it for money or favors. I love sucking cock. I just love it. I always have loved it. And like most activities that one does wholeheartedly, I am really very good at it.

Looking up at him, keeping my eyes locked on his eyes, I gently flicked the head with the tip of my tongue.

He groaned.

The drop of precum stretched from the tip of his cock to my lips, stretching then breaking to fall across my lips and chin. I did it again. Expanding my range of contact by degrees, cupping and stroking his balls, I could feel him jerking and straining, and growing harder.

I cupped my right tit. Pulled on the nipple. Giving him a little visual. More groans. By the time I had taken the whole head in my mouth, I could feel him pulsing, his thighs iron bands squeezing my sides.

"I'm gonna..."

"I know baby, I can feel you, I'm gonna let you come on my face." I was stroking him with both saliva slick hands now, " You gonna squirt on my lips, watch your cum dribble down onto my tits...then you know what, baby? You're gonna clean me up with your tongue. You are gonna lick it off of my tits and..."

I didn't get to finish my trash talking...apparently the idea of slurping up his own jizz off of the tits that he had fantasized about for the past six months, just sent him right over the top.

When he started, I had his cock in the long tube of my hands, an inch away from lips. I was back to wetting the head periodically in between phrases... I opened my mouth to catch the first blast, then, as promised, directed the subsequent spurts onto my chin, throat and tits...