| I Kissed a Girl, Chapter 6 Standing in her underwear, the dress shop change cubicle with the curtain open, a chill ran through her and it was quite confusing because she felt so hot. Her mother, standing with her back to the gigantic mirror across the narrow hallway at the back of the store, had her eyes all over her and it was making her skin tingle on top of it. Maryann refused to believe the sensations she was feeling. Things were tightening up, nipples, vaginal walls, even her anus. Time seemed to be standing still. Annie returned with a couple of bras in hand and stepped into the cubical. "We'll be just a second" she smilingly informed the girl's mother and drew the drape. Annie set the lingerie on the bench that lined the back of the change room and stepped behind her customer. Becky drew a deep breath as she felt the hooks release. Annie felt that delightful warm rush in her pussy as she pushed the shoulder straps off. How many times had she and Melanie—her girlfriend—admired miz Spencer's bust under the school sweater while she encouraged her fellow students to support the school team. She could hardly believe her luck; she was about to see them—in the flesh. Back in front of her customer she gripped the shoulder straps and completed the removal. She only got a brief glimpse of the jutting firm cones before Becky crossed her arms over her chest in automatic modesty. The girl, now wearing only the white cotton briefs saw the salesgirl's eyes focused on her breasts—well actually on her arms which were covering her breasts. Annie looked up and their eyes met again. Becky saw the undeniable twinkle. "You don't need to be shy around me," the salesgirl assured her. -'This is dumb!' Rebecca chided herself. 'I've been dying to show them off to Michelle ... Why not to Annie?' The rush she felt when she lowered her arms was not embarrassment. She felt her nipples stiffening possibly from the cool air circulating over them but more probably from seeing the rapt expression on Annie's face. "Doesn't it feel cool when they get all hard and stick out like that?" the redhead said making it obvious that she had noticed the transition. "Uh some ... sometimes it's ... it's embarrassing" Becky countered, finding it a little difficult to speak. "I know wha-cha mean" the salesgirl agreed and punctuated it by squeezing her own breasts. They both giggled. On the other side of the curtain the girlish laughter penetrated Becky's mother like a hot knife through butter. She envisioned her daughter standing naked with the cute little redhead's hands all over her. It wasn't a maternal protective feeling she got—it was something else. And the something else was catching fire low in her abdomen. Annie helped her customer on with the first bra and Becky was surprised by how much adjusting it needed. It was easy enough to understand the shoulder straps, but she couldn't get why the salesgirl had so much trouble getting the cups to sit properly. The redhead hands stroked and pushed and pulled, occasionally dipping inside, in an effort to get the garment the way she wanted it. The activity around her sensitive boobies made her nipples tingle, then ache. Her coochie felt like a guitar string while the tuning key was being relentlessly tightened. Outside the cubicle time was dragging for her mother, who was experiencing similar sensations imagining what was going on behind that curtain. There were two chairs in the hallway and Maryann collapsed into one of them. She couldn't make out what the girls were saying but she caught the occasional giggle and it made her imagination run wild. The curtain opened and Rebecca was wearing the dress. Her daughter did a pirouette and studied her reflection in the huge mirror that occupied the wall opposite the dressing cubicles. It was shorter than her mom would have preferred but reasonable and they all agreed that it was a 'keeper'. The curtain closed and Annie got her customer undressed down to the cotton briefs again. While she did the unnecessarily extensive adjustment of the next bra she took a quick glance up at HD security camera—the one that couldn't legally be there. The redhead was already imagining showing the recorded footage to Melanie and Mandy. It didn't make the yearning in her crotch any more bearable but it did give her hope of relief. 'When Mel sees this we're gonna... ' She didn't want to take that thought too far in case she totally lost it and started really working on the pretty blonde instead of just teasing them both to fever pitch. Annie opened the curtain once again to let Becky inspect her reflection and for the blonde's mother to see the first of the blouse and skirt ensembles. Again the selections won fairly quick approval. When the last outfit was approved Annie stripped her customer down for the final time. Rebecca was getting rather accustomed to being almost naked in front of the cute redheaded salesgirl. Accustomed did not mean comfortable however. There was nothing comfortable about the insistent tingling in her breasts nor in the pressure in her cookie. She knew that when she moved, some of her juices were leaking. She'd tried to peek down to see if it showed and was relieved that it didn't seem to be too obvious. 'It's further back ... sort of underneath' she concluded. The sales girl collected up all the purchases as Rebecca put her own clothes back on. "You should stop by some Thursday after school. I'm usually here all by myself." Annie suggested to her tempting blonde customer. Katy Perry's high sweet voice rang inside Annie's head 'Just wanna try you on... ' The shopkeeper knew the song too. The verse that was playing in Becky's head as she buttoned her blouse watching the barely covered redhead was: 'Hard to resist so touchable ... too good to deny it ... ain't no big deal it's innocent.' With the bill paid they were on their way back to the car, Rebecca carrying the thin disposable garment bag that contained her new wardrobe. Maryann checked her watch and was pleased to see that it was ten after three. She'd have time to go in the house and clean up before heading for the doctor's. She was pretty sure there was a mess in the panties. Rebecca was on the phone when she finished in the washroom. The warm washcloth had felt so good on her aching vulva and it was permitted—it was cleansing. The fresh panties made her feel more comfortable. She was careful to choose one of her newer ones, not worn and over washed looking. As she fluffed her chin length dark blonde hair with the natural hints of red she realized that the condition of her panties probably didn't matter all that much, 'You won't have them on for long, ' the thought made her shudder. She waved at her daughter on her way out. Becky was evidently talking to the girl next door. The tiny snippet of the conversation she caught in passing was Rebecca inviting her friend over to see her new clothes. On the drive across town Maryann practiced her deep breathing relaxation techniques. She even tried reciting the rosary, but she could not stop the images of Bonnie and Vicki and Becky from swirling in her head. The scene that she was fighting to suppress was the breast exam by Doctor Garcia's nurse. It couldn't be called a memory because the face of the woman, in the crisp white dress, who'd performed the unconventional examination, kept changing. The pious woman glanced at the digital clock on the dash of the Civic just before she turned it off next to the four story office building. It was four forty-five. ' If you can be here a couple of minutes before that would be good. It'll give Vicki time to get you ready, ' the doctor's words invaded her thoughts and the 'get you ready, ' part made her shiver. "Hi missus Spencer," the redhead behind the counter called as soon as she was through the door. She saw the receptionist pick up her phone and press a couple of buttons. Linda spoke only a few words into the phone and then said to nervous woman standing at the door clutching her purse in front of her, "If you'll just take a seat, Vicki should be with you very shortly." Maryann nodded and it felt rude again. The receptionist smiled, in what the uptight patient thought was a most compassionate way, "Just relax and it'll all be over before you know it," the redhead assured her. Taking a seat in the same chair she'd chosen last time she wondered how much the receptionist knew about the reason for her visit and realized immediately that the waiting room was empty. She opened a magazine but it was only for show, a place to rest her eyes, rather than nervously scanning the medical suite. The voice calling her name was slightly familiar, she'd heard I once before. "Missus Spencer," there was the nurse standing at the head of the hallway. Maryann had sort of imagined the first few moments. Her trepidation wouldn't let her go beyond that. The mental preparation was rendered useless immediately. In her 'rehearsal' the nurse was wearing scrubs, just like the one's she'd been wearing yesterday. The young woman who'd called her name was wearing a neatly pressed white dress. As a mater of fact, except for the color, it was remarkably similar to the one she'd just bought for Becky. The vision of her daughter when the curtain had been opened was so fresh in her mind, and their faces and hair were so similar, in that first instant it actually was Rebecca not Vicki that she saw standing in the hallway that lead to the examination rooms. Maryann shook her head to reset the image. "Come with me please" the too young to be a nurse woman said and waited until her patient had risen from the chair before turning on her heel and starting down the short hallway. The nurse's dress was very traditional the only thing missing from Maryann's oldest memories was the silly little cap they used to wear. Vicki turned the door handle and pushed it open standing aside to let her patient enter the examination room. She collected the file folder that had been placed in the clear plastic holder on the wall beside the door. There was really no surprise as she entered the antiseptic smelling little space; brightly lit with a significant number of chrome surfaces gleaming, made the inside look hard and uninviting. In the center was the expected focal point—the examination table. To the nervous patient, the high platform with the black vinyl padded top covered by a sheet of paper that had been pulled from a roll attached to the head part, looked like a torture device. Vicki followed her into the room, closing the door behind them and went over to the counter top with the stainless steel sink in the middle. There were white faced cupboards above and below the slightly darker sort of greenish Formica counter. The nurse set down her file and extracted a green examination gown from one of the drawers and turned back to the wide eyed woman clutching her purse like a security blanket. "The doctor is going to do a very thorough exam so we'll need you to remove all of your clothing including any jewelry." The nurse instructed taking note that the patient wore a gold colored watch, wedding rings and a gold cross on a chain around her neck. "The gown goes on with the tie at the front," the young woman in the crisp white dress informed her; carefully differentiating the way to wear the examination drape from the more familiar hospital gown. Maryann took the very soft piece of faded cotton that looked as though it had been washed about a million times from the nurse and just stood there looking at her attire for this ordeal. The knotting in her stomach she believed was completely normal and to be expected. At that moment it was more prominent than the warm crampy feeling a little lower down, or the incessant tingling in her breasts. Victoria's felt sympathy for the terrified looking older woman in front of her. Her extremely compassionate nature is what led her into nursing in the first place. She'd reviewed missus Spencer's file, along with all the other patients' for the day, when she'd arrived that morning. The last word the doctor had written had given her a start—Hysteria. The young nurse was familiar with the term although from a medical perspective its connotation had changed a lot over the years. She knew instinctively that Doctor Perez used the term in its archaic sense. In her brief five year nursing career she had never seen it as a diagnosis before, but she also knew that Angelina Perez was not your ordinary doctor. The Latina who contrasted so dramatically in appearance from her tall, blonde very fair complexion tended to be a little retro in the way she viewed things. Vicki supposed it was a consequence of spending so much of her career in a third world country. Being retro is one thing; but to be resurrecting a term that hadn't been in medical vogue for over sixty years might be taking it a little too far. When she'd read what her boss characterized as a working diagnosis she had cast her memory back to her first year of nursing college, and the medical history course part of the curriculum. It hadn't been only her that started squirming in her seat when the professor, missus Crawford, a somewhat grizzled twenty year veteran of the nursing profession, had described the very common diagnosis and treatment of the antiquated female ailment. The first year course in medical history was not a part of her studies that came to mind very often. It was all very interesting and useful in putting some of the less intuitive medical conventions into perspective, but it wasn't something that popped up regularly. The overall impression that was left by that particular course was that medical science had really existed for barely seventy years. Prior to that there was very little science about the art. She had been sitting in the file room at the back of the suite—where she had a desk—reviewing files while she ate her yogurt and fruit lunch, recalling the lecture and the complimentary reading assignment. Professor Crawford had defined the myriad of symptoms that often lead to the diagnosis of Hysteria prior to the forties. When the experienced nurse, lecturing the next generation of Florence Nightingales, described the treatment for the extraordinarily common female malady the class had erupted in nervous school girl giggles. The thought of genital massage to the point of producing an orgasm by a doctor as a common and accepted medical procedure was incredible and extremely erotic to the class of young women. Many of them enjoyed the rest of the class with their hands not entirely idle in their laps—including Vicki. When the instructor explained that the treatment wasn't viewed as sexual by the medical establishment many of the girls scoffed. They couldn't imagine a guy playing with a pussy and thinking it wasn't sexual, even if he was a doctor. Professor Crawford went on to say that doctors found the therapy tedious and tiring and often delegated the chore to midwives and other female assistants. There were several groans as some of the would be angels of mercy found the idea of a woman performing the genital massage particularly exciting—including Victoria. Next came the description of some of the mechanical aids the overworked physicians had come up with to deliver the treatment. Finally with the advent of electricity one creative and enterprising man of medicine had invented the vibrator. Out of the medical history review she had taken away two key points. The first was that the diagnosis of Hysteria was not necessarily wrong in its day. Since the medical community (all male at that time) had concluded that women had no sex drive and were incapable of real sexual pleasure they were forced to give the culmination of their efforts—the shaking shuddering finale to the genital massage a different name—they called it paroxysm. The second thing that she gleaned from her review was that: the reason Hysteria, with its original connotation, was no longer diagnosed was a societal change, not a physiological one. In most cases, the twentieth century (and certainly the twenty-first century) woman took charge of her own sexuality without relying on anyone to tell them what they did and did not need sexually. That was in most cases. She was beginning to understand that Maryann Spencer was not most cases. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes" the nurse excused herself, giving her patient privacy to change. As she stepped out of the room the thought that Doctor Perez might be administering the archaic Hysteria therapy to the busty blonde that she'd just met made her pussy twitch. Michelle flew across the side yard. As she'd bounded down the stairs she'd called out to her mother that she was going next door. She considered it reasonable execution of her responsibility even if her mother hadn't heard her. She'd seen Becky's mom drive away so there was no ceremony, she simply burst through the door on arrival. After all they were friends weren't they? Close enough friends to have shared a kiss—or at least part of one. It was a kiss that Michelle couldn't get off her mind, or her lips. Despite the life altering connection she'd made with her mother it was Rebecca's kiss that had been on her mind when she'd finally been able to get to sleep last night. 'I kissed a girl and I liked it ... I liked it' They met in the front hall. "Lemme show ya" Becky said grabbing the younger girl's hand, dragging her towards her bedroom. She didn't intend the double entendre and Michelle didn't get it. The clothes were all neatly laid out on the bed and the younger girl made sincerely appreciative remarks about the skirts and blouses while Rebecca held each of the garments in front of her. She picked up one of her new bras and showed it to her neighbor with obvious pride. "I never thought I'd get my mom to buy anything like this for me," she said. Michelle took it from her friend and marveled at how big the cups looked. Rumbling started in her pussy, and the urge to touch the conical wonders resurfaced. Becky was very pleased with the girl's apparent reaction to holding her underwear, and her tits were tingling recalling how Annie had adjusted it so thoroughly. They fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own erotic world. Without looking up from the white straps and lace she was holding Michelle blurted out what was on her mind. "Could we try kissing again? We didn't get to finish 'cause ... you know ... y'er mom came home." "You really want to?" Becky responded very enthusiastically. Michelle raised her head to look at the older girl and nodded; her eyes wide with anticipation. The younger girl had to tip her head back, since her girlfriend was half a head taller. She closed her eyes and felt the first soft sensual contact on her lips. The scene from the movie flickered in her head providing a thrilling visual that matched the tactile very well. She was floating off the ground and at that moment the only thing in the world was the kiss. Rebecca's limbic system had not really settled after Annie had ramped it up to a fever pitch in the boutique dressing room but her mind hadn't been on the state of her erogenous zones. Now it was. She felt her nipples tighten and the heat between her legs began to rise until it consumed her lower belly completely. Their tongues were caressing each other very slowly, just like in the movie when the moaning started. Although it wasn't intentional, they each found the vocal appreciation of their partner added an extra dimension to the sensuality of the moment. This time it was Michelle who escalated the proceedings. When her hands made the long awaited contact with her girlfriend's boobies they both moaned much louder it harmony. Michelle actually had something to compare the firmness of Becky's breasts too, other than her own of course. Although she hadn't really played with her mom's breasts yesterday the feel of her mature tits when they'd hugged naked was fresh in her mind. Becky's were so much firmer and denser feeling even though they were close to the same size. Rebecca began to return the favor, cupping Michelle's emerging boobs, and once again marveling at how hard the little nipples were. The older girl had an advantage since her neighbor was not wearing a bra. The very conservative lined boobie support that Becky was wearing muted the feel of her taut strawberries. Yesterday, when they'd kissed during the movie, Michelle was nervous and shy about touching her friend's chest—even if her friend seemed very comfortable touching hers. Obviously the experience with her mom changed everything. Boldly she began to pull up on the older girl's blouse. Becky suspended their lip contact long enough to help pull her white cotton top up over her head without unbuttoning it. The adolescent Maidenform was in stark contrast to the much sexier underwear that she'd just bought. Michelle gasped as the jutting cones in their double thick cotton cover came into view. The very evident admiration in the younger girl's eyes thrilled Rebecca where it counted. She was compelled to show her friend more. Pulling the shoulder straps down the soft cotton cups released their treasures and folded under her gravity defying conical tits. "Oh my God Becky ... your breasts are so beautiful" Michelle sighed. "Can I ... can I touch them?" "Only of I can touch you too," Rebecca imposed a condition, and without waiting for agreement grabbed the bottom of her girlfriend's T shirt and yanked it up over her head. Michelle was quite sure that she was getting the better of the deal as the topless teenagers began to explore each other's chest. Even though her boobies seemed to grow almost daily they still weren't a handful even for Becky's tiny hand. The fleshy cones she was fondling however were much more than a handful and the bumpy light pink crowns were so much bigger and paler than hers. They played with each other's tits for several scintillating moments before the pressure in their crotches became too much to bear. Rebecca was first to drop her hands and squeeze her tortured mons through the front of her skirt. Annie had raised a persistent throb and now Michelle had turned up the volume to a completely intolerable level. She just had to massage it or she'd loose her mind. The younger girl followed suit. Rebecca didn't really know what to do next and it came as a huge shock to her that the younger girl did. Michelle sank to her knees and ran her tiny hands up under the knee length 'A' line skirt. The feel of her neighbors soft little hands sliding up her thighs nearly made her scream as a wave of pleasure as intense as anything she'd ever felt raced from her crotch to her head. When she realized that she'd actually cum without any direct contact with her cookie she was amazed. So amazed that she hardly even noticed when the other teenager pushed her back onto her bed. She bounced once and fell backward, lying crossways on the comforter, her legs dangling over the side. Even the resistance of the panties having to squeeze between her round bum and the back of her skirt was not enough to stop Michelle from pulling the white cotton off. It happened so fast that the prone girl didn't have time to consider helping. Michelle was intent on arriving at her destination before she had too much time to think about the huge leap that she was about to take. 'You're my experimental game; just human nature. It's not what good girls do ... not how they should behave. My head is so confused ... hard to obey.' Pushing the skirt up out of her way Michelle was surprised by the absence of hair. She wasn't really thinking about it, but after seeing her mother's luxuriant bush yesterday she sort of expected it. Realizing that her girlfriend shaved her pussy was a thrill. She was actually proud of the little fringe her kitty had developed in the last few months. Having heard of women removing their pubic hair, she had wondered—why bother; that was until she saw her mom's yesterday. She was delighted at the unobstructed view she had of her girlfriend's thick outer lips and the narrow slit down the middle with just the slightest hint of her inner pinkness showing between them. The fragrance was familiar, yet different somehow. She recalled tasting herself off her mom's face yesterday and wondered if Becky would taste as good—only one way to find out. Very tentatively the kneeling teenager ran her tongue gently up the demur slit. It tasted a bit saltier than her juices, not as sweet. She couldn't get that much just running her tongue on the outside so she probed a little deeper. The sound Rebecca made scared her and if she hadn't been enraptured with how her girlfriend's soft inner folds seemed to wrap themselves around her tongue she might have stopped—but she didn't. She moved her tongue up and down the velvety feeling flesh with no clear objective in mind as far as her partner was concerned. She was just enjoying the sensory smorgasbord of sight, smell, taste and sound. When Michelle's tongue first made contact with her labia Becky thought she was going to die. A rush of pleasure more intense than anything she'd ever felt enveloped her; more intense than when her neighbor's hands on her thighs had made her cum, then everything went dark. It was like her mind simply overloaded. All of the air rushed out of her and she couldn't believe that she was making the sound she heard. Her eyes were closed and there were bright sparkling lights, like fireworks flashing on the insides of her eyelids. When her girlfriend's little tongue penetrated her outer defenses and stroked her more sensitive inner tissue another bigger wave hit her and her head began to spin. That wave was different. It washed over her like a giant ocean breaker but it left something behind and the something felt like pressure building up in her belly. Rebecca opened her eyes to assure herself that she wasn't rotating at high speed. The room did still seem to be spinning and the crucifix came into view. What the prone teenager saw wasn't the tortured dying Christ on the cross it was a benevolent loving Jesus looking down on her. She thought she heard a voice—very faint—hardly even a whisper; the voice was telling her to let go. So she did. Suddenly her body was moving of its own accord bucking and heaving and writhing. The something that had been left behind by the previous wave, the thing that felt like pressure, exploded and sent electric sparks out in every direction. It was those sparks that seemed to make all of her muscles convulse. Her eyes were open—very wide open—and Jesus was smiling. Maryann wanted to be on autopilot. She didn't want to think at all. Not about why she was there, not about what was about to happen and certainly not about that time with Bonnie. Looking at the small painting of the smiling face with the flowing light brown hair she recognized the classical artist's conception of what Jesus might have looked like. It warmed her soul as she removed her blouse and skirt and hung them on the clothes tree in the corner. She paused only a moment before pulling the bra straps down her arms and twisting the back strap around her abdomen to unhook the wholesome breast support. Hanging the bra on the back of the clothes tree where it would be out of sight behind her other clothes, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the polyester panties that came all the way up to and above her navel and pushed the briefs down. As much as she tried, she couldn't ignore the way her heavy breasts lifted off her ribs and swayed pendulously as she stepped out of her underpants. She took the trouble to take her blouse off the tree and hung her panties underneath it so they wouldn't be in plain view. Naked, she shivered, but it wasn't from the cold as she donned the soft thin green cotton drape she'd been given. Pulling the well worn fabric around her she tied the string at the waist that held it closed much like a dressing gown. The ridges on the rubber covered step beside the table felt harsh on her bare foot as she hoisted her mature hips to the level of the examination platform. She sat down with a crackly crunching sound on the paper covered vinyl pad. The familiar discomfort invaded her lower belly like a flock of birds and she distracted herself by looking at the other little painting that decorated the far wall of the examination room. The picture of the Madonna did not depict the blessed Mother breast feeding the baby Jesus but it did appear that she had just finished, or perhaps was just about to start. At least that's the way Maryann saw it. She was trying not to think about where she was so she let her mind wander into the painting. That proved to be not such a good idea. Her mind made the connection to breast feeding which caused her to recall the many, many times that she'd had Rebecca at her breast. Her nipples responded by tightening and crinkling. The tingling in her breasts was exactly the reaction she was trying to avoid. The sensation pulled her back out of the picture back into a similar antiseptic smelling room ten years ago—Bonnie's too young to be a nurse face looking down at her nakedness while she fondled her breast. The flock of birds in her belly was swirling even more vigorously and they seemed to create a vibration; very subtle and muted, but it hummed directly between her legs. That's where her twisted mind had taken her when she heard the rapping. "Are you ready missus Spencer?" Vicki called through the closed door. "Yes" she responded, surprised at how croaky her voice was. She also hadn't realized that her vision had gone blurry until she looked at the blonde young woman entering and realized that she couldn't tell if it was Doctor Perez's nurse or her own daughter. She gave her head a shake as the very young looking woman approached. Victoria always considered her ability to empathize with her patients to be among her most valuable professional talents. The expression on Maryann's face bespoke her agitation like a neon sign. Vicki put her hand on the tortured woman's arm and looked deeply into her eyes. "Just relax" she encouraged the distraught woman on the table. "You've been through all of this before ... it won't be so bad, trust me." It was plain to the nurse that her words of comfort hadn't really had the intended effect. She couldn't know that when she said you've been through all this before that the image conjured in her patient's mind was one that terrified her. The caregiver in the traditional white dress gave it one more try. "I know it's embarrassing but you know that it's necessary to get to the root of your problem ... right?" she searched her patient's eyes for understanding if not relief. When Maryann nodded Vicki patted her arm and said; "Good ... now if I can get you to lie down for me." She held the older woman's upper arm for support as her patient twisted around, raising the paper's crackling crunching sound again, as she achieved the supine position. Vicki's own words were ringing in her ears get to the root of your problem. according to the nurse's interpretation of the file her boss suspected that missus Spencer's clitoris was the root of her problem. Well maybe not her clitoris per se but the lack of stimulation there of. The realization made her own pussy throb. She interpreted the expression on Maryann's face in her final glance as something like a plea for mercy. Then her eyes scanned down her gown covered body. Even though the woman's breasts were clearly lolled to the outsides they still presented themselves as significant hills under the thin green drape. The extra little bump on the top of each signaled the erectile status of the patient's nipples. Vicki did not automatically associate the condition with anything. She knew there were lots of reasons why the woman's nipples might be hard but that didn't make the fact any less erotic to her. The blood pressure reading was further evidence of her patient's nervous state. Vicki wrote down the elevated readings and thought; 'We need to do this in the office while she still has her clothes on next time.' She put her hand on the older woman's shoulder reassuringly and said, "Your pressure's up a little, so I know you're still feeling kinda stressed. Please try to relax as best you can while I do the breast exam." Her delicate fingers were slipping the carefully tied bow out of the gown's lone tie as she gave her advice. Maryann felt the wave of heat all over but in particular rising up her neck and into her face. She knew that she must be blushing a fluorescent shade of red as her meager covering was parted. Becky ... uh, Vicki pulled the top half toward her, and then laid the bottom half away; leaving the thirty-eight year old's naked body framed by the pale green drape. It wasn't unusual for the nurse to feel her vaginal muscles clench at this point in an exam and she attributed the fact that it was worse than average to the heightened expectations that her boss's working diagnosis had raised. The fact that missus Spencer's lush mature figure appealed to her prurient tastes was beside the point. Victoria squeezed her hands into tight fists, hoping to reduce the shaking, as she surveyed her patient's body. The boobs were as magnificent as she'd expected. The large melons were flattened and pancaked by the force of gravity. The areolas were dark purplish brown and large—very large. Poking up from the nearly palm sized crinkled circles was a deep pink knob like the tip of a lipstick. Her eyes wandered down over the soft middle aged tummy to the sparse brown triangle of curls that occupied the V at the top of her thighs. Her disappointment that her patient's legs were tightly together preventing any view of her vulva did not prevent the muted spasm she felt in her own womanhood. There were many approved methods of performing the breast examination and Victoria was familiar with all of them. The type and size of breast dictated which she might use, and she invariably added a couple of elements of her design. "Actually I'm gonna need you to sit up facing me first" she informed her patient and gripped the older woman's upper arm to help her to a sitting position on the side of the table. More paper crunching noises but not as loud as before. The paper was getting scrunched and softened from all the movement. Vicki put her hands on the points of Maryann's shoulders and pushed lightly. "I need you to sit up nice and straight for me." Maryann felt like her back was arched and her chest thrust way out. She'd always been self-conscious about the size of her boobs and this position was about the worst she could imagine. She tried to focus on the painting of Christ on the far wall to distract her mind from what she knew was coming. Vicki wiped her hands on the tops of her thighs in case her palms were sweaty—and she knew they were. The beautiful melons were bigger than the ones you could usually find in the grocery store and capped with what looked like a miniature British Pith helmet; except the discrete securing button that normally adorned the top of the helmet wasn't usually that high in proportion to the rest of it. She was not worried about taking too long because the visual examination was a valid and necessary part of the process. Still the urge to feel the pliable flesh spurred her to action. The nurse decided to begin with the least conventional part of the examination—the one she'd sort of made up herself. Cupping one hand under each of missus Spencer's impressive tits she lifted gently and slowly feeling her fingers embed in their spongy but firm resilience. She tore her eyes off their magnificence long enough to see that her patient had her eyes closed was biting her lower lip. The empathetic nurse knew that there were only a couple of reasons for a patient to react this way. Since it wasn't pain she surmised that it was pleasure. Before closing her eyes Maryann had looked into the eyes of the artist's conception of her Lord and Savior. It was permitted contact—it was. Was it a sin to enjoy it? Her soul went in search of an answer; her body had already decided what it was going to do. Vicki moved her hands around the warm breast flesh stretched smooth by their fullness. When the heel of her hand touched the outer margin of the areola it was hot. The nurse would have been happy to caress the older woman's bust all afternoon but she did have work to do. When she took her hands away she glanced at her patient's face again and called that expression disappointment. "OK let's have you lie back down again," the woman in the crisp looking white dress ordered and guided Maryann back into the horizontal position, the examination gown still wide open. She began on her left breast which was the furthest away. Pressing quite firmly with a sort of twisting motion the nurse used three fingers starting just under her collar bone and worked all the way around the periphery. When she reached the starting point, she began a second circuit an inch or so closer to the middle. Maryann felt herself relax a little during the very familiar and not terribly exciting examination. If she ignored the fact that she was on naked display, she could almost imagine that it was her old doctor's fingers palpating her breast under a paper poncho. Being naked made it similar to Bonnie's exam but she didn't recall the other nurse making the full concentric circle check the way Victoria was doing. The last circuit of her left boobie brought the nurse's fingers to the very edge of her huge areola. Vicki used the same three fingers to press right in the center of the drink coaster sized dark circles. It came as a shock, and Maryann gasped. Doctor Garcia had done this a couple of times—not every time—but he always warned her in advance of what he was going to do, and then apologized when he was finished. The nurse standing over her gave her no warning. As a matter of fact the protruding button of her nipple, which had retracted a bit during the routine breast palpation, got trapped between two of the examining woman's fingers. Rebecca's look alike pressed down firmly on the areola which increased the pressure from the fingers that were pinching on her tender peg. Sweet wonderful sensations streamed from the firmly clamped nipple directly to her crotch. The prone woman was not able to keep her hips completely still. She tried to swallow it but the moaning sound came out anyway. "I know they're really sensitive," the nurse cooed, "but they're so large that I really need to examine the tissue underneath your nipples ... ya know to be thorough." Maryann decided this was worse—or better—than the plucking pinch that Doctor Garcia's nurse had performed. The one she'd copied this morning in front of her bathroom mirror. With the firm pinch had come a bolt of pleasure slamming into her womanhood, but when the pressure was relieved the sensation ebbed very quickly. The steady pressure that Vicki was applying as she twisted her tiny fingers against the large brownish purple circle, combined with the squeeze that two of her fingers were placing on the nipple, created a much longer mellower stream of pleasure signals with ultimately the same destination. She didn't have the artist's concept of Jesus to look at—to plead with, to beg permission from. All she could do was close her eyes and let the waves of erotic stimulation flood her pelvis and hope that it wasn't a sin, but it didn't matter; it was out of her control. The nurse's hand moved to her other breast. The palpation seemed to go very quickly and the prone woman could barely feel it since her fully erect left nipple was throbbing so delightfully that it effectively blocked out everything else for those few moments. When Vicki's probing fingers made contact with her right nipple she used a different technique. Instead of immediately applying pressure the nurse ran her finger tips very gently over the dark circle. "This one looks like it has a different texture to it" her daughter's twin remarked. "I need you to just relax for me while I examine it." Very quickly the soft almost loose feeling flesh of the areola began to crinkle and get firmer—kind of pebbly. To Maryann it felt like warm honey was being poured through some erotic pipe from her breast to her pussy. Victoria brought the fingers of her examining hand to her mouth and licked them, applying a slippery coat of saliva, and then returned it to her exploration of the puckered and now quite firm miniature Pith helmet. "I don't want to chafe it," the nurse offered as explanation of why she was applying spit to her patient's nipple. The lubrication intensified the feeling immeasurably. Though she was trying to fight it Maryann felt her pelvis moving against the paper table cover. The door opened and Doctor Perez entered the room. Vicki immediately snatched her hand away. The patient's vision wasn't entirely clear but she thought that the look on the doctor's face was rather harsh. Glancing back at the young nurse's face the expression she wore looked like contrition. Doctor Perez went over to the counter and opened a drawer. In a stern voice that befitted her facial expression she said, "Victoria, please drape the patient properly, and prepare her for the pelvic examination." Maryann heard the latex gloves snap as the doctor put them on. The nurse obediently pulled the sides of the examination gown back over her. |