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On the Rebound
This material is Copyright, 2003, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to me at anon584c@nyx.net. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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On the Rebound
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From her first days on the job, Mary was attracted to Dr. Doherty. She was a newly-minted dental technician; he was an older man. From her perspective, thirty-five looked awesomely mature. An established dentist with a considerable practice, he was a demanding -- but an occasionally quite considerate -- boss. He was attracted to her, as well. She could tell, although he never made the slightest move. After all, he was a married man with two children. She even met Nancy and the cute kids. While she wasn't about to make a move, either, having a respected professional -- and your demanding boss -- attracted to you was a great boost for the ego. When Donna Berger, the neighbor above her new apartment, developed a toothache, Doctor Doherty came in on a Wednesday to treat her. Mary knew that this was something he wouldn't have done for just anybody. He probably wouldn't have done it for an old patient. He was generous when he took the long vacation,too, paying her for three weeks of the four, although she hadn't been in his employ long enough to take even two weeks. Days passed after his return before he finally told her that Nancy hadn't returned with him. The first time he took her out for a meal, it could have been another example of his generosity. The second time was a date. The third time ended up back at her place. They talked over coffee until it was quite late. Finally, he put his raincoat back on. "Goodbye," he said. They stood awkwardly. A kiss was called for, but it would cross a line they had maintained. After a silence which went on much too long, he said "goodbye" again. Then he took her face in both his hands and kissed her. The kiss seemed to go on forever. When he finished, she was leaning against him, awkwardly hugging him through the raincoat. He shed this with his blazer still inside. The next kiss, he hugged her. She could feel his hands rubbing her back, her nipples pressed into his chest, his hardness against her stomach. They stood there, kissing, fondling, occasionally removing clothing, until she led him into her bedroom. He was still in slacks and shirt -- although an unbuttoned shirt. She was wearing panties, pantyhose, and shoes. While she sat on the bed, he knelt to remove her shoes. He must have untied his own while he was down there, because -- when he joined her lying on the bed -- he left them behind. This was much better. He could kiss her everywhere. After a bit, she pushed him down and attacked his belt. Stripped, he pulled her garments off. She merely had to raise her hips while he pulled them off together. During his next kiss, he had one hand on her breast and the other teasing her center. "Don't worry," he said -- long after it was far too late to worry -- "I had a vasectomy." She'd been consciously wanting his entry for an hour, but her body had been ready even longer. Her spasms came on his second stroke; his followed soon after. They fell asleep entangled and without any covers over them. She woke when he pulled her sheets over her while standing beside the bed half dressed. They both struggled to stay awake the next day. While waiting for one patient, he told her of coming home to a hysterical babysitter and falling asleep only to be wakened by a telephone scolding from the babysitter's mother. Luckily, that day was a Tuesday; she slept in the next day -- probably he did, too. He asked her to dinner the next Tuesday. It was a nice place, which they had almost to themselves because of the early hour. "Would you like to come up for some more coffee?" she said when they got to her street. They never got around to drinking the coffee. Again, he kissed and fondled her for as long as she could stand it. Then he went on a little longer. Again she convulsed almost as soon as he had entered her. It was the first time that two sessions of intercourse in a row had led her to climaxes. Still, he got out of her apartment and home in plenty of time to meet his new babysitter's deadline. School started. She invited him to her house for lunch on Wednesday. They actually ate the lunch -- fortunately, considering how much effort she'd put into it. This time, the petting was much briefer. They knew where they were headed, and they barely paused on the way. He paused kneeling between her legs. "Mary," he said. "I think I love you." She reached down to start him in. "Jeremy," she said. She knew she loved him, but she also knew it wasn't wise to say so. He pushed into her, slowly but firmly. When he was all the way inside, he kissed her. Then he moved back and forth. She held him by the shoulders, and then by his hips. She felt all the muscles bunch and quiver as he sped up. She watched his face as it strained, and then he stiffened and drove hard against her. She patted his back as he lay gasping on top of her. "You didn't" were his first words. "I often don't." It wasn't all that important. Really, his orgasm had been fascinating to watch. But he went on and on, only stopping to dress hurriedly and run out to pick up his kids from school. He didn't say anything the next day. Friday, though, he invited her out on a picnic the next Wednesday. Used to school romances, she was slightly put off by this once-a-week schedule for a full-blown love affair. On the other hand, they did work with each other five days a week. On Wednesday, he picked her up at ten and drove her to a park in Chicago. She couldn't see what was special about it; there were plenty of parks in Evanston. On the other hand, he stopped on the way to pick up oriental food. It was a fancier picnic than she was used to. At twelve-thirty, however, they were back at her apartment. This time, he followed her inside without waiting for an invitation. He was carrying a paper sack. Instead of rushing to the bedroom, he spent a long time kissing and undressing her in the living room. He even removed her panties out there. Then he brought a pair of barber scissors out of his sack. "Lie back," he said. She did, and raised her hips for him to slip a paper liner under them. She recognized it as something he used on the tray in his practice. He proceeded to trim her pubic hair very short. He stroked her and kissed her thighs as he went on. He led her to the bedroom, stopping in the bathroom to wipe the area he'd trimmed. He kissed her standing beside the bed, then helped her lie down. He kissed her again on the mouth before trailing kisses down to her breasts. When he left those, he continued lower. She knew about cunnilingus, but had never experienced it before. He kissed her thighs and pressed them apart. He kissed the newly-trimmed hair on her mound. Then he knelt between her thighs while he spread her lower lips with his thumbs. He licked those lips, kissed those lips, nuzzled those lips. He held one of her buttocks in each hand. Occasionally, not nearly often enough, he teased her clitoris with his tongue. The arousal went on forever. Then it peaked. She screamed something and spasmed and spasmed. When he entered her, she realized that she'd needed his presence -- needed the quick strokes -- needed the sense of his passionate urgency above her. And, when he poured his seed out into her, she sensed that she had needed that, too. Even the warm weight of his body over hers was something she had needed. That she hadn't come for a second time when he was in her, didn't bother her in the least. It didn't even bother him. He cuddled her until it was time for him to dress. "Look," he said. "I brought a toothbrush. Would you mind? After all, I always tell my patients that they have to brush after every meal." She didn't mind. Wednesday became their day. She spent five days a week with Dr. Doherty. Wednesdays she spent with Jeremy, and then with Jer. He almost never called her "Miss Preston," only occasionally when he was referring to her to a third party. Every day, he called her "Mary," though only on Wednesdays did he call her "darling." She had had previous sexual relationships, but she came to see that this was her first true affair. He moved in nothing but the toothbrush. Every Wednesday except for the Christmas season, when his kids were home, he brought take-out food to her apartment. They had an early lunch, then they retired to the bedroom. If he brushed his teeth afterwards, he brushed them before, too. (Maybe he brushed them after lunch.) Her responses to his oral attentions were vocal, and he encouraged this. Occasionally, he took her out for a play or a concert and a restaurant meal at night. Sometimes he came up afterward; often, especially if they were closing in on his babysitter's hours, he didn't. To celebrate Valentine's Day, he got a sitter who could stay past midnight on a Saturday night. He took her out to a French restaurant. They didn't get to her place until eight-thirty, passing Donna on the stairs. They did drink the coffee this time, and each had one of the chocolates from the box he had given her. They sat on her couch kissing and cuddling until their desires brought an urgency that his schedule didn't. In her bedroom, he unwrapped her rather than stripping her. They kissed there, too. And he tortured them both by kissing everywhere else before he finally arrived at the critical point. There, he kissed and licked and nuzzled her labia. Only when she was squirming under his attentions did his tongue touch her clitoris. Her response was loud and long. Even then he rested his face against her mound for minutes before he stretched over her and entered her. The final act lasted longer than usual, too. And then he cuddled her until his breathing grew quiet. They even had a last talk before he had to leave. Mary was in the laundry room the next day when Donna came in with her load. "Are you all right?" she asked. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" "Last night, I thought I heard you scream. I listened, but whatever it was didn't continue." Mary blushed. She knew that scream must have marked her climax. "I couldn't be more all right." Donna looked at her shrewdly. "I'm glad for you." Touched by her sympathy, Mary invited her to visit. When her clothes were in the dryer and Donna's were in the washer, they sat on Mary's couch and shared some of the chocolates. "Splendid gift," Donna said. "Your boss?" "My boss. And he took me out to dinner last night." "Yeah. You passed me when I was going down to pick up my mail." If she had thought she couldn't be more all right, she learned better the next Wednesday. Jer came early and took almost as much time on the kisses and petting as he had done on Saturday. Her climax came more easily than it had ever done before. His didn't. He stroked in her longer than on any previous occasion. She dried out and his motions became irritating. He stopped suddenly. "Do you have hand cream?" he asked. "In the medicine cabinet." When he returned with it, he applied it slowly and lovingly to her labia and to her inner passage. He massaged it in with his finger. Then he slathered even more on his phallus. The entry was slicker than her own moisture had ever provided. Now, his duration wasn't irritating. On the contrary, it was deeply arousing. Just before he came, she did. He had to hurry into his clothes, but he kissed her and tucked the blankets around her before he left. She drifted off in blissful memory. Even when she woke, she couldn't avoid a smile. She, who had thought experiencing two climaxes on successive encounters was an event worth remembering, had now experienced two climaxes during the same encounter. While that was not repeated, her Wednesdays with Jer were unalloyed bliss. He would pamper her, bring her meals from a variety of cuisines, kiss her, caress her, finally bring her to orgasm. Then he would have his own orgasm on top of her and within her. This, in itself was enjoyable. The only fly in the ointment was his having to leave her while they were enjoying their aftermath. But, even then, she didn't have to move. If the pleasure of their Wednesdays didn't extend to the other days of the week, those improved, too. Dr. Doherty -- never Jer in the office -- was as demanding as ever, but her skills had improved. Even Donna seemed to notice. She came in to the office on a Saturday for an exam. She was the last appointment for the day, and Mary chatted with her for a moment before she left. When the phone took Mary away for a moment, Donna turned to Dr. Doherty and said, "You know, you have been very good for Mary. She's been looking like a new person these last few months." She left cheerful -- the exam had turned up no problems -- but Jer was livid. "What have you told her?" he demanded. "Very little. She guessed more. After all, she's my neighbor. She's seen us on the stairs." "Mrs. Berger is a teacher at Barb's and Jimmy's school. I don't like this at all." The argument was long and acrimonious. They had been so good about keeping the romance out of the office up 'til then, too. Nothing was resolved. When he asked her out for lunch the next Wednesday instead of bringing food to her apartment, she was afraid that he intended to break up. Instead, he proposed. She accepted, and they ended up in her bedroom. |
The End On The Rebound Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2003/02/20 Return to "Chocolate Fudge Sunday" Thanks to Denny for proofing this. Another story about another couple getting together for their first time is: "Conjugation" The index to almost all my stories is: Index to Uther Pendragon's website |