Jerry Milner - The lady plays doctor

Now and then, however, something inside of Joyce quietly rebelled. Though her days were fully occupied with medicine and sex, she had many nights when she was quite alone in the medical offices, and during these times she would become mildly disturbed. She felt isolated, almost a prisoner there, a rather contented one. Dr. Morgan didn't want her going out on the town lest she somehow ruin the careful image they'd built up of respectability, and lest she form a romantic alliance with a man or woman and eventually leave them. The latter, it seemed, was highly unlikely, for by then Joyce felt that she could be content with nothing less than two lovers, or spouses, or whatever they might be called.

Time and time again she tried to explain to them her need for some time away from the practice, all by herself, but they were adamant in their demands that, she be accompanied by one or the other of them whenever she left the building. These demands she had to eventually agree to, for they had all those photographs of her from her wedding night with Emily and from the other times when she enjoyed wild sex with either or both of them. Those photographs were their weapon over her, and they were also a source of joy to Joyce. Many nights as she lay alone in her room at the offices, longing to see the outside world, she could distract herself by getting the photographs out and going over them. One by one, dwelling fondly on her favorites, while she used one of the dildos in her body until at last she fell asleep. The dildos were a poor substitute for flesh, but they managed to do the job when supplemented by the lewd photographs that her two lovers left with her.

Still there were the seeds of discontent slowly germinating in the mind and body of this young woman who had worked so herd for the honor and respect, for the satisfaction and the independence of being a physician. And one day these seeds grew further still with the entry of a young boy that she had treated before, on her first day at work in Roseville.

He entered her examining room in the early afternoon, aft Joyce had had a busy morning. That morning she'd treated half a dozen patients, and she'd entertained bath Emily and Phil, but not too satisfyingly for herself. It had been a day when Emily had been in the mood for water sports. That morning she had greeted Joyce with her, usual French kiss and told her to drink a good deal of water, so Joyce had good idea of what was on the way. She'd drunk four big glasses of water and her bladder was filled when Emily entered at about ten, smiling as she closed the door behind her. She hadn't much time, she announced, as she held up her short white uniform skirt to her waist. Joyce quickly dropped to her knees before her and peeled down Emily's panties, following the downward course of them with her lips, kissing Emily's bare thighs and nylon legs, then returning to insert her tongue through the thick black hair at her loins and locate the thrusting cunt there.

"Feels good," said Emily. "Feels so good I might piss all over your pretty face, right here and now."

"Wish you would," said Joyce, though this was a day she didn't really feel like water sports. "But if you did, I'd have to shower, and there are patients waiting," she said, dutifully playing out the charade.

"Do you have to piss, too?" said Emily, stroking the head at her loins.

"So bad it hurts. Could we… do it together? Please, Emily?"

Emily had chuckled and pinched her cheek. "You like your golden showers now, eh? Well, I suppose we have time for a little one. Come, darling. Let me make you happy."

They'd gone into the little bathroom and Joyce had sat down on the toilet, just as she had so many other times when Emily was in this mood. Joyce never wore any panties any more, so she just had to lift up her skirt and sit down on the hard white seat. Emily had come forward, legs apart, straddling Joyce's clasped knees, with that immense pussy of hers staring Joyce right in the face. She'd parted her cuntlips and held them open for Joyce's gaze. While they'd shifted their legs around until their knees were mingled and both women had their legs slightly apart. Then she'd begun to pee, with her golden shower raining down on Joyce's thighs and between her legs. Joyce had cooed and oohed and ahhed over the sight of the water spouting from the hairy cunt. As was expected of her, she'd held the cuntlips open, and when the last drop of urine had rained down on her, she'd pressed her mouth against Emily's clitoris and sucked it till the spasms rippled through Emily's body and she was muttering lewd love words and orgasming nicely. As usual, they had switched positions then. The seated Emily had pulled Joyce down on her lap. Tit to tit, belly to belly, mouth to mouth, they had clung and kissed while Joyce emptied her bladder against Emily's loins. The hot pins gushing down over Emily's cunt had made her come even more than Joyce's tongue had, and Joyce too felt tingles of orgasms under the strong embrace of the big woman.

They had quickly cleaned up and gone back to work, and a few minutes later, Dr. Morgan had come into the examining room. "Hungry?" he had said, grinning, and opening his pants.

"For you, always," Joyce had said, grinning at him, licking her lips as she looked down at his fly. "Let me take it out, Phil. Please," she had said, just as he liked her to say.

Once again she was on her knees. Once again she was oohing and aahing over the sight of a sex organ. She had sucked him warmly and nicely, building him up toward a good climax. She'd known he was in a hurry, and so she'd rushed it a bit, but at the proper time she had backed off with her mouth, put on an expression of deepest ecstasy, and milked his semen out to shower against her upturned face.

He'd left her right away, just as soon as she had licked him clean. She understood the demands of his work and she knew that the satisfaction she had given to him and to Emily would eventually be returned to her tenfold, but still she felt discontent when young Willie Austen entered her examining room that afternoon.

"How's that sprained wrist?" she asked with a smile.

"It's okay," he timidly replied, rubbing his unbandaged wrist. "I wanted to see Dr. Morgan, but Miss Beresford said he's busy."

"I've had the seine training he has, Willie," said Joyce. "Anything you wanted to discuss with him can be discussed with me just as well."

The way he hemmed and hawed, she knew it was a sexual problem that was bothering him. At last, after much coaxing, he said, "My thing gets sore. My father says it's because I'm not circumcised, and he wanted Dr. Morgan to look at me."

"As I said, I'll do just as well," said Joyce. "Take off all your clothes, please, and get up on the table."

"A-All of them?" he said, wide eyed with apprehension.

"Yes, all of them," she replied.

As the eighteen-year-old boy disrobed, Joyce made conversation with him, partially to ease his discomfiture, partially for purposes of her own. After talking of the usual banalities, she asked, "Are you the son of Will Austen, Willie?"

"That's right," he said, down to his shorts now, and unsuccessfully trying to shield his hairless body from the coolly appraising gaze of the attractive young physician.

"He's the same one who's backing Dr. Morgan's hospital, isn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah. I've heard them and Miss Beresford talking about it in the library at the house. Do I have to take my shorts off, too?"

"Yes, Willie, you most certainly do. Your house has a library, it must be a large house."

"Something like twenty-two warns," he said, his back to her now as he pushed down his shorts, exposing a round little pair of buttocks that made Joyce's eyebrows raise in appreciation.

"Your mother must have a time taking care of a house that size. I suppose she has servants."