Emile Bosch - Beverly Hills vixens

That was why the middle-aged man was going to milk out every bit of pleasure from Tammy's tits. He rolled his tongue about her big left nipple, then her right. She shook them about, twisting and squirming, trying to get some action from his dick, which was simply inside her like a barbecue spit but not moving. He spit on each nipple, then blew on them.

"Oh, don't, don't," cried out Tammy. "That's driving me nuts. Nuts! Please, please, fuck me. I mean it. Fuck me right now."

But the middle-aged man only smiled. "You have such beautiful breasts," he said.

"They should be," snapped back Tammy. "I paid fifty thousand dollars for them."

She thought back to the post-operation recovery, when she went into Dr. Dickson's office for her final visit. He had her remove her blouse and stand before him. Then he got out a caliper and carefully measured each breast and then the nipple. "Ahh," he said. "Perfect-o."

With another device, he measured the angle of her tits, how far they stuck out, the aim of her nipples, etc. "And again," he said, "absolutely perfect."

Tammy couldn't help posing a bit before the good doctor, who, no doubt, had seen thousands of tits in his lifetime. He was the best tit-man in Beverly Hills and had recently bought a gigantic mansion that was capped by, of course, a large dome with a cupola on top, in a quiet understatement of the man's professional preoccupation.

"How is the sensation?" asked Dr. Dickson.

"They feel… good," replied Tammy. He put his finger at the base of the breast. "Do you feel this?"

"Yes."

"And here?"

"Yes."

He kept working closer and closer to her pointy nipples, which were quickly becoming hard and even more pointy. Finally, he held each nipple in his fingers and pulled gently. "And how about this?"

"Oh, yes," said Tammy. She couldn't disguise it anymore. She was really turned on.

Dr. Dickson was such a distinguished looking gentleman, probably in his fifties with a little goatee and a little pot belly. He was one of the most respected members in the medical community. And one of the richest. Women from all over Beverly Hills would pay any price he asked for his designer-tits.

Now Dr. Dickson slowly lowered his head to Tammy's nipples and gave the left, then the right a little flick of his tongue. "Do you feel that?"

"All the way to my pussy," said Tammy, then turned red in the face, embarrassed she had been so vulgar in front of a professional, respected doctor.

"Oh, yes?" said Dr. Dickson. "Perhaps we should examine you there, too."

Now Tammy was truly embarrassed, for she knew the good doctor would find that her pussy was just oozing juice. She could already feel that her panties were wet. What would he think of her, a married woman, creaming in her panties over a distinguished doctor.

But it was too late. The doctor insisted that he examine every part of her body. And so Tammy took down her dress, then sat up on the examining table. Dr. Dickson reached for her panties and pulled them down her long legs.

"Now just lean back and thrust forward your vagina, Mrs. Vanderhosen," he said.

"Yes, Doctor."

This was too much for Tammy. She knew that her juices were flowing out of her pussy and probably staining the paper on the examining table. Maybe, she thought, she could tell him that she had some kind of problem in that area, too.

"Ahh," said Dr. Dickson, looking at her nice little pussy with the perfectly shaved bikini triangle of hair.

He inserted a finger and Tammy almost jumped through the roof. "Ahh," she moaned unintentionally. She told herself she had to keep herself under control. Dr. Dickson was, well, he was her doctor.

Dr. Dickson's finger went in as far as it could, then he took it out and re-entered her with two fingers.

"Do you feel this?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, yes!" shouted Tammy. "Uh, I mean, yes," she said softly.

"That's good, that's good."

Then he began shaking his fingers up and down, rubbing against her clit. Tammy's hips began moving back and forth in rhythm with his fingers.

"Oh, oh, Doctor!"

"All part of Dr. Dickson's services," he said with a smile.

"Doctor, I think… I think you're fucking me with your fingers."

"You know," said the good doctor, "I believe you're right."

Now that it was all out in the open, Tammy felt free of all restraint. "Oh, Doctor, fuck me."

"With my fingers?" he asked coyly.

"No, no, with your dick, er, I mean penis," said Tammy, trying to call all their private parts by their proper medical names.

Then Dr. Dickson looked sad. "I'm afraid I have a little medical problem of my own," he said.

"What's that?" said Tammy.

"It's just that, well, I suffer from what a layman might call… limp dick."

"You?" asked Tammy incredulously.

"Yes," he said, nodding his head sadly, "I'm afraid I've suffered with this affliction for five years now, ever since, well… since Nurse Adelaide passed away."

Tammy felt an overwhelming empathy for the doctor. Here he had helped uplift so many women's, er, sprits, yet he couldn't uplift his own dick! The world of medicine was a strange world indeed.

"Have you sought help?" asked Tammy.

"From the best doctors in the world," he said. "It's no use."

"Well, I don't want to be so bold as to think I could affect a cure where the top doctors of the world have failed, but perhaps… well, perhaps I should have a look myself."

"If you'd like."

Doctor Dickson took out his fingers from Tammy's pussy, open his white gown and buckled his pants. He was wearing silk underpants, Tammy noticed. Then he idled them down, too, so that, his dick hung limply down.

He, indeed, suffered from limp dick disease, and Tammy thought she saw the problem immediately. Even limp, the dick was a good ten inches long. That meant that his dick required a great deal of excitement to become erect, just as a bigger balloon requires more air than a smaller balloon.

Tammy scooted off the examining table and knelt before Dr. Dickson so that she could get an up close view of his precious penis. She bent down low and, opening her mouth, closed her gently upon the tip of the dick.

"Wyou pheel throat?" she said, her mouth filled with dick.

He nodded. "I feel it, and it feels quite good, but, I'm afraid, that's where it ends." Tammy took the dick out of her mouth for a moment. "No," she said, "this is where it begins."

She stuck her mouth once more about the doctor's dick and played with it vigorously. It should be known that while Tammy was no medical doctor, she was one of the best cock-suckers in Beverly Hills, which is really saying something since the competition there is especially stiff.

Her tongue traveled up and down the long mushy sausage. She crammed all of it into her mouth. The dick just sort of folded in on itself, like an accordion, it was that limp. But Tammy wasn't about to give up. Not only did she want to help Dr. Dickson after all he had done for her, but she had a reputation to uphold. Every man she had ever been with had always had an orgasm, one way or the other.

She sucked and sucked until her neck muscles began tiring. She didn't know what to do. She licked his balls, put them gently in her mouth, hand jacked his shaft, vibrated his penis head inside her mouth, all to no avail. By this time, she was covered with sweat. Beads of sweat poured down her face, down her neck and ran out on her breasts where they tickled her nipples, hanging on the pointy tips there until they fell off. She was just about ready to admit defeat, when inspiration struck. As someone once said, genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine perspiration. Tammy's idea was fifty percent inspiration and fifty percent perspiration.

She stood up a little higher and taking hold of Dr. Dickson's dick, placed it between her two newly refurbished tits. The big ten incher slid back and forth easily between the two mounds, lubricated by the sweat she had worked up working on Dr. Dickson.