Dental Trials

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Sexual dental discoveries.
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STR8Male
STR8Male
18 Followers

This is a work of fiction and does not represent any person, living or dead. This work is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author.

Just prior to receiving my discharge from the Marine Corps, the Navy dentist told me that I should hang around and let him remove my wisdom teeth. Of course I ignored his advice, and the opportunity to obtain this surgery with a free ticket courtesy of Uncle Sam. Yes, he warned me that within a year or two I'd be suffering pain, and the longer I waited the more complicated and painful the surgery would become. But I wanted to get the heck out of California, and especially Camp Pendleton. All I wanted was to get my Honorable Discharge in hand and head back to my home in the Rockies.

For a couple of years I bounced from one job to the next. Most of those jobs involved horses and/or cattle because I'd have minimal contact with human beings. I guess a few years of killing people kind of sours one on the entire human race. Predicting what an equine or bovine might do seemed a lot easier than predicting the actions of Homo sapiens.

Yes, I know I don't sound like a cowboy, but I went to a good high school, funded by all the yuppies that had invaded my mountainous hometown when I was a kid. I guess there was some good coming out of them driving up acreage prices so high that many of my relatives had to sell out their ranches because they couldn't afford the inflated prices, and the attendant property taxes. And, back when I thought I'd make the USMC a career, I spent almost all my spare time working hard on correspondence courses in biology, psychology, chemistry, and other areas of science that piqued my interest. During my last year, I completed forty hours in similar classes at a Southern California college. All I really needed were a dozen hours or so to get a Bachelor of Science degree.

The reading and studying helped me block out the bad years in the Corps, when I was being paid to kill bad people as quickly and as efficiently as possible. For some reason, perhaps because I grew up hunting, I became very good at my assigned task, so much so that I received an offer to attend Officer's Candidate School, which I turned down because I would be required to extend my obligation for another six years. I had already soured on the military, though I still believed in the mission. I guess I was just 'used up' as one old Master Sergeant expressed it.

So, as I entered my third year of ranching, this time on a working ranch that also hosted yuppies in a new dude ranch enterprise, I chose to work the cattle and horses far from the main ranch house, where I had almost no contact with people. In the winter, I'd be totally isolated in a fairly comfortable line shack miles from the nearest telephone or road. Of course that winter is when my wisdom teeth started making their little impacted selves quit well known to me. By the end of the winter, I was haggard with the constant pain, which severely cut into my sleep. A couple of times, the distraction of the pain put me into situations that could have resulted in my death. When one is miles from help, a very simple mistake can lead to serious accidents that wouldn't be all that big of a deal in the city.

So, as the spring thaw hit, I rode into the ranch house and explained the situation to the rancher. He told me to head into the nearest burg with a dentist and get the situation resolved once and for all. More than ready for relief from the increasing pain, I did just as he suggested.

Unfortunately, the aged dentist in town, twenty miles from the ranch, just shook his head after looking at the x-rays he had taken of my teeth, "Son, this is going to require some judicious bone chiseling, and I'm just not up to something that complicated these days. You need to head into the city and get a young dentist that can handle this."

So, with a mild pain killer taking the edge off the pain, I drove another eighty miles into the city. Stopping on the edge of town at a truck stop, I flipped through the yellow pages and found a handful of dentists that specialized in oral surgery. After calling the first three, I was dismayed to find them trying to schedule me for an appointment nearly six weeks in the future. The fourth, and last, was a lady dentist. This time, when I got a receptionist on the phone, I explained more about my situation, and that I couldn't drive back to the ranch and wait a month and a half, without putting my life at risk on the back range. She put me on hold and I soon found myself talking to Dr. Beth, as she billed herself in her phone book advertisement.

After relating what I was told in the Corps by the Navy dentist, how stupid I was for not taking his advice, and how I worked alone in the mountains on the backside of nowhere, she told me to drive straight to her office. Thankfully, the old dentist had given me the x-rays he took, so when I arrived at Dr. Beth's office I handed them to her receptionist as I introduced myself. She told me to take a seat and took them back into the recesses of the office. When she returned, she said the doctor would see me as soon as she finished up with her current patient.

A half hour later, I found myself reclining in one of those rather intimidating chairs in a very modern dental operatory as an incredibly cute dental assistant, Andi, clipped a cloth bib around my neck. We talked for a few minutes as she looked inside my mouth and made some notes on a chart. Every time she leaned forward to peer into my mouth, I had a great view of her cleavage. To my consternation, I felt my prick engorging, inching down the left pants leg of my work jeans. I swear I caught her looking at my crotch more than once. Then she finished her tasks and left the room abruptly.

A moment Dr. Beth bustled in and got busy. After taking a quick history and insuring that I had no history of drug allergies, she stuck the x-rays up on backlit viewing panel, then delved into my mouth with a small mirror and her latex gloved fingers. Within two minutes, this rather frumpy, mousey, forty-something woman withdrew her fingers from my mouth, stripped off her latex gloves.

"Mr. Blake, you require oral surgery to remove those impacted wisdom teeth. Rather than removing one or two at a time, I strongly suggest that we remove all four in one operation. With the use of local anesthetics and nitrous oxide, the process will not be painful. Rather than remove bone to extract your wisdom teeth, I will use a minimally invasive procedure that reduces wounding to your gum tissue by removing tiny portions of the teeth via a very small incision at each molar. That greatly improves healing time."

Of course, considering my limited funds due to a very low paying job, my first response was, "Sure, Doc, but what is this going to cost. Cowboys don't make a whole lot of money."

"The cost per tooth will be $880.00, plus a few ancillary expenses such as pain killers for the recovery period, and perhaps a course of antibiotics. I suspect that two of those molars have precipitated an inflammation that is likely to convert to an overt infection." She looked rather impatient, as if discussing money was beneath her status.

I did some quick mental math, "Dang, Doc! That's almost half what I make in a year! Of course I get room and board thrown in, but after taxes and all the incidentals, I don't clear six thousand a year."

Her eyes narrowed, "Let me see your hands."

Puzzled, I held out my callused palms to her. She took them in her soft, but surprisingly strong little hands. Tracing over the thick calluses, she murmured, "You do work hard with your hands. I believe you." At that point, I swear her eyes locked right and took a long look at my still tumescent organ.

"What do you mean, Doc? Why would I lie?" I was mildly insulted.

"Mr. Blake, people will lie to get what they want. You not only need the oral surgery, but you have that atrocious military crown on your upper left bicuspid which needs replacing. The x-rays reveal decay beneath the crown. You also have a molar that requires a root canal and two other molars that require filling. That can mount up to another two thousand dollars very quickly."

Pulling my hands from her grasp, I stuttered, "G..geez, Doc! That's a whole year's income! I'll have to put off going back to college."

"College? What is your major?" She leaned forward, her eyes boring into my own.

"Well, I've got enough hours so that I could take a BS in both psychology and biology if I put in one real hard year at the state university. That's what I've been saving my money for. Out there on the back side of ranches, I don't tend to spend much of my income. But my danged teeth are going to put me at least a year behind schedule."

"Why would a young man of your abilities restrict his income by working in the hinterlands, Mr. Blake?" She looked very curious.

"Well, my time in the Corps put me in a bad frame of mind. Marines tend to be right in the thick of things."

"What were your duties in the Marine Corps, young man?"

I don't know why I said what I did. I tend to not discuss my military time with people, especially strangers. Even my own family didn't know the details of what I did on a day to day basis for two overseas tours of thirteen months each.

"In my first tour, I was a squad leader for a rapid response strike force with Marine Recon. We'd bail out of helicopters in an area where Army guys had taken a hard hit in an ambush, then we'd hunt down the SOBs and make sure they didn't get to thinking that they could shoot at our people without serious consequences. Second tour, I was leading a four squad task force. We went after high level terrorists. The ones that organized ambushes and terrorist attacks on innocent civilians."

As I blurted this out, I half expected her to recoil and move away. Instead, she sort of shivered and laid a hand on my forearm where it rested on the armrest of the dental chair, "God Bless you, young man. God Bless you."

Abruptly, she stood up, stating emphatically, "We'll do the surgery, and the other required dental work without any charge. Someone aided me when I was an undergraduate. Now it is my turn to return the kindness. Be here tomorrow morning for plaque removal and a general cleaning and polishing. The next day, Saturday, you need to be here bright and early for the surgery." And with that she was gone.

After confirming my two appointments with the receptionist, Bonnie, I headed back to the truck stop. To save money, I'd sleep in my twelve year old Bronco. With the backseat folded down, I could stretch out almost full length, diagonally, in the rear cargo compartment. A trail pad and sleeping bag made it pretty comfortable. In the morning, I'd pay two bucks for a hot shower in the truck stop, then have a good breakfast for about five bucks. On my budget, that was a lot cheaper than a motel.

The next morning, at 10:00am sharp, I presented myself to Bonnie. She led me back to a different room and told me to lie down in the chair. A few moments later another young lady walked in wearing a lab coat. She introduced herself as Denise. It seemed that all the women Dr. Beth hired were knockouts! Denise couldn't have been more than twenty-two, and could have been a swimsuit model if she had so desired. Of course there aren't a lot of calls for swimsuit models up here in the Rockies, so I guess she took what she could get.

After explaining that the cleaning and polishing could be rather uncomfortable, she insisted that I take a pair of my pain pills. She then hooked a transparent plastic nose cone over my nose and mouth, telling me that a little nitrous oxide would relax me so that the process wouldn't be at all uncomfortable. She was more than right. I'm not used to painkillers, and two of those tablets had me in lalaland within ten minutes as she puttered about readying her equipment. As she finally settled in next to me on her adjustable height stool, I found myself staring down some deep cleavage as she reached past me and opened a valve on the nitrous cylinder and adjusted the regulator.

The combination of the painkilling medication, and the nitrous oxide, plus the view of a pair of magnificent breasts, with sometimes a definite peek at her aureoles, produced a strong response from me. I hadn't had sex in over two years. And that last time was with a drunken cowgirl barrel racer after a local rodeo. I had been pretty drunk, too, so the memory was somewhat hazy. And, being the type that just didn't get any real satisfaction from masturbation, my only sexual relief in the last two years had been a handful of disturbing wet dreams. Seeing the edges of her nipples, and being stoned out of my gourd, I developed a huge erection. Considering that it was angled down my pants leg, it was danged uncomfortable, also!

I tried, in a fumbling manner, at some point during the scouring of my teeth and gums, to discretely move it up to a more comfortable position, pointing up towards my belly. It was so hard that I didn't have enough room to reposition it. After all, not bragging, but I'm a full ten inches when erect, and there wasn't enough latitude in my too tight jeans to move it around like that.

Then, as I was reliving my experience with that tautly compact barrel racer, I felt a hand on my erection as it strained against the leg of my jeans. I had my eyes closed, and due to the nitrous and the painkiller, didn't at first realize that it could not have been Denise. She had both hands busy at, and inside, my mouth!

I cracked my eyelids open to the slightest of slits, and saw Bonnie kneeling at the foot of the dental chair. Lightly rubbing my cock through the denim, she was carefully, and slowly, unzipping my pants. She then unbuckled my Champion Bull Rider belt buckle and unsnapped the one, and only, button on my jeans. Reaching down inside my now loosened jeans, she levered my erection around to the left, then up to be fully exposed.

Of course I knew this was another of my erotic wet dreams. But it got real kinky very quickly. Bonnie placed her right hand over her mouth, even as her left hand gently stroked the length of my prick. To my amazement, she removed her teeth and laid them on the same surgical cart where Denise' dental hygiene tools rested. Denise acted as if nothing unusual was happening, so I KNEW that this was just a very realistic wet dream. Vaguely, I wondered if Denise would notice when my jeans were inundated with an ejaculation.

With now hollow cheeks that made her look two decades older, Bonnie leaned forward as she levered my erection to the vertical and encompassed my thickly swollen glans into the incredibly hot receptacle of her mouth. She didn't dance around, she just sucked powerfully, and noisily, at my glans, with her lips locked just behind my coronal ridge.

It is possible that I lasted more than a minute, but a doubt it. Very quickly I was gushing streams of semen in to Bonnie's voraciously sucking mouth. I could literally hear her gulping. With that long denied ejaculation, I drifted off into a dreamstate.

With no knowledge of how long I had been unaware of my surroundings, I became conscious due to an incessant, rhythmic suction being applied to my somewhat post orgasmically sensitive glans. This time, when I looked down through slitted eyes, I was surprised to find that my underwear and jeans were now pulled down to my ankles. Bonnie had one hand wrapped around the upper, thinner, section of my scrotum, pulling down towards my feet in order to lever my penis towards her oral suction. My erection returned full force, even as Denise' instrument buzzed upon the surfaces of my teeth.

This time, my hips began to thrust upwards of their own volition, seeking deeper penetration into that slick orifice that would not abate in vacuuming power. My last memory of that tooth cleaning was of Denise leaning over me to make another adjustment to the nitrous regulator. After that, everything became a dim blur of me ejaculating several more times into an insatiable mouth.

When I awoke, my penis had shriveled to a mere nubbin, behind my intact, in place, jeans and belt. Denise was smiling down at me, "All finished, Mr. Blake! You just relax here for a few minutes. The nitrous will wear off very quickly. Don't forget tomorrow's appointment, please."

A few minutes later I stumbled out of the dental office and into my Bronco. As I headed back to the truck stop, I couldn't help but think that I had experienced some kind of strange, erotic, wet dream. Peculiarly, though, there was no evidence of a seminal discharge in my jeans. My balls were aching a bit and my penis was shriveled to size much smaller than usual. I wrote it off to the effect of the drugs, and hoped I hadn't said something inappropriate to Denise, or anyone else that had walked into the operatory. I put the entire event out of my mind, ate a big lunch, then retired to my Bronco well before sunset. For some reason I was exhausted.

Saturday morning, after showering and eating another big breakfast, I arrived at the appointed time at Dr. Beth's dental office. There were no other patients present, but Dr. Beth seemed to have a full staff on hand. Bonnie, Andi, and Denise were in attendance with Dr. Beth.

Within two minutes, I found myself lying back in a quite different dental chair. This one had the leg supports split in half. Dr. Beth required me to take two more of my pain pills, then applied the nitrous oxide mask to my face herself. As I felt myself drifting off, she warned me about a pin prick to backside of my left hand. In a disoriented, depersonalized, state, I looked down as she inserted an IV needle into a vein on the back of my big paw. She adjusted the drip from a bag hanging on a pole just to my left.

After that, I have only the most confused images in my mind. When I awoke, I was fully dressed, but had the most confusing array of images in my head of one woman after another sucking upon my erection.

Also, when I awoke, I had this strangely 'vacant' feeling in the back of my jaws. The pain was largely gone, and seemed to abate by the minute.

"All done, cowboy!" Dr. Beth stood next to me. Strangely, her short, mousey hair seemed in extreme disarray. I wrote that off to her working hard on me over the last...what time was it?....I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized I had been out for over five hours! My curious tongue could only find a quartet of tiny sutures where the point origin of the pain had been over the last year.

"The operation was a total success. But I want you in here Tuesday afternoon for a follow up examination. We don't want any unnecessary complications, do we?" She actually winked at me. As she did, I noticed that her lips seemed abnormally reddened and swollen. She whisked her self from the operatory a moment later.

As the gas wore off, I seemed to remember multiple orifices sucking at and stroking my my prick. However, I couldn't believe that. This was just some kind of sexual dream, even though my glans was almost purple, even in its relaxed state, when I examined it during a long piss in the waiting room's bathroom. Concurrently, my balls ached tremendously, and my prick was little larger than a fat acorn! I thought to myself that the combination of the pills, gas, and whatever was in the intravenous fluid worked together to give me some kind of erotic dreams. I still couldn't reconcile the fact that all the erotic dreams of the past either ended with huge amounts of semen staining either sheets or sleeping bag. If I awoke before ejaculation, then I was hard as a rock and dripping slick fluid, making me so horny that I had to masturbate before I could fall back asleep. Again, I wrote off this strangeness to the drugs. Somehow they had reduced my libido, despite the dreams during my last two visits to this dental office.

STR8Male
STR8Male
18 Followers