tagFetishNights in White Satin

Nights in White Satin

byjjsharshaw©

"...and the colored girls say, 'do, dee-do...'"

I chuckle.

"What?" She looks into my eyes, my rapidly glazing eyes; smiles.

"It's funny what comes into your head."

"Lou Reed? Yeah, kinda weird. Feeling any nausea?"

"Not yet. Will I?"

"I hope not but...sometimes the first time. Just a bit more." She finishes plunging the syringe. I'm feeling light and heavy at the same time. I barely notice as she withdraws the needle and flushes the port.

"Oh, shhhhiiiitttt..." She slides her body against mine, holds my face in her hands and nuzzles my throat. She feels so warm, soft. And she smells...God, she smells sooooo good.

"What now?" She giggles. Softly (?), then kisses and gently bites.

"I, uh...shiiiittt..." I can't suppress a giggle, "...uh, I don't think I can get it up."

"Don't worry, just relax. I didn't shoot you up so we could fuck. Just relax, enjoy. This is," it sounds like a damn good imitation of Cheech Marin, "really good shit. Man, you know, primo. Man."

I close my eyes and relax. Her hands and mouth are everywhere at once and I am on a cloud.

"You know..." she is lightly rubbing my belly, my head cradled in her arm and her lips pressing lightly to my ear, "...you feel good right now, right?"

"Uhhhhh..." Her tongue snakes into my ear. The ripples of pleasure are indescribably intense. She giggles.

"I'll take that for a 'yes'.

"If I understand my Christian theology correctly," the tongue is in the *ear* again... "You are not *even* presently experiencing a scintilla of the pleasure that you can expect when you get to heaven.

"Can you *even* begin to appreciate that fact?" She moves; her lips encircling my sex and to my happy surprise, I am hard.

"I'll just say a small prayer now...Oh, shiiiiiittttt, Jan....jeez what are you doing????!!!!"

The lips leave. "You're feeling some heightened sensations, eh? It's called...a blow job." The lips return, a suck, an incredible sensation then I hear her voice again. "You were saying something about prayer?"

The lips are back; I feel her tongue from the base to the tip. "Uh.... oh, yeah, ah...prayer..." my train of thought returns briefly, "...I'll say a little prayer that I get more acclimatized before I am called home."

I hear her laugh then feel her weight and the incredible slick warmth as she mounts me.

"Well, Scotty, the Lord's left you good hands tonight." The tongue goes back in the ear and she stretches her lush body over me.

***

It's the light touch of her hand on my forehead and cheek that wakes me though I can't get my eyes to focus.

She's sitting on the side of the bed, smiling down at me. She's gently pressing a cool washcloth to my face.

"Hi."

"What time is it?"

"It's tomorrow. Close your eyes, I'm going to open the drapes."

The light is blinding, or so it seems. But it is raining and dreary outside.

"Didn't you have to go to work?"

"Ah, you know us 'scag queens', no ambition. I called in." I must have looked pained.

"Oh, don't worry. Freezing rain, they called me and told me not to come in. But if they hadn't I would have called. You needed me here when you woke up. And," she leans over me and pats my face and shoulders with the cool, damp cloth, "tonight's Friday night and it'll be my turn and you *will* be hard."

She smiles with her eyes, giggles, rubs the washcloth hard in my face and gets off the bed.

"Do you want breakfast for lunch or lunch for lunch?" She asks as I watch her leave the bedroom.

"What time is it?"

"A little after 2," she yells from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. "The doctor suggests some chicken broth and toast."

***

The broth is warm and salty and good. She sits cross-legged beside me on the bed in my buttondown blue oxford shirt spreading cream cheese on a bagel.

"I thought smack junkies were supposed to eat like horses."

For the first time since I'd been in her house she gets serious. "A) You're not a 'smack junkie' and B)," she lightens up, "the last thing I want to do this weekend is clean your horked lunch off my bed. Drink your broth." She munches on the bagel.

"So I've known you for a year and I would have never suspected. And, why me?"

Her grin is sheepish. "Well, it's good you've never suspected. But I really, *really* don't do a lot. It's fun. And I'm picky. I don't do street junk."

"So what'd you give me?"

"Hey, I told you it was primo shit. Did you see Dr. Chandrahan on the Onc Unit last week?"

"I saw some Indian making rounds with all the first years following him around like puppies"

"Well! Dr. Chandrahan is an adjunct professor at the med school but he only teaches every other quarter. Lives in Amritsar, India the rest of the year. Has access to *pharmaceutical* grade heroin! Buys it by the case lot out of Lahore, Pakistan, AND," she snorts like a pig as she laughs, "get this!! He's on some U.N. commission and he has a diplomatic passport AND," she fairly squealed, "his baggage is not subject to search. Can you BELIEVE IT???!!!!

"I was one of his favorite residents and we developed a 'thing'. So, he brings me little care packages every time he comes. And in between visits I'm clean. There's nothing, I mean *ab-so-fucking-lutely nothing*, that compares.

"And I never do it alone."

"Yeah...so, why me? Why not one of the handsome young residents or I hear the anesthesiologists like their own stuff."

She nonchalantly waves a hand, spreads some more cream cheese on a bagel.

"The residents are all a bunch of weenies...well, except that third year family practice guy," she looks wistfully for a moment, "but he looks so wholesome and I hear he's really, like dedicated. And the anesthesia guys are a bunch of dickheads. I got high with Dr. Samuels last year.

"I'd heard that he was big on fentanyl so I thought he'd like some real stuff but he horked all over my sheets on the first cc and then! Ah, he is such a dickhead!! So when I let him shoot me up he did it and left!! Oh, what a DICKHEAD that guy is!!!! He said, 'I just can't get into sex with a stoned chick.' Arrrrgghhhh!!!

"So when you were showing off some of your stories to Neal that time you brought your computer in I, uh, peeked."

"When? I remember showing Neal my stories but I don't remember you being around."

"Mmm! There was a code, remember? You all flew out of the room. I was behind you guys and when I saw the room was full I went back to the lounge. I loved your story about Julie. It was so kinky and the bit about her using insulin keyed me to the fact that you might be my kinda party guy."

"Thanks."

"Now, how about a shower?"

***

She kisses me and scrubs me in the shower but primarily she helps me stay upright. A cap of Dexedrine and a walk in her garden ("Hey, the freezing rain has stopped. It doesn't look to slick out back. Let's go for a walk.") And I am feeling pretty peppy.

About 6:30 the freezing rain changes to snow.

"This is perfect weather for doing this." She stands in a frumpy looking terry cloth robe and looks out the picture window into her front yard. "I'm going to take a shower and get ready. I'll yell when you can come up."

The Dexedrine loses out against the residual smack and I doze in her recliner.

"HEY!! What are you DOING?! Get your ASS up here and SERVICE your love GODDESS!!!"

She startles me awake but I immediately feel alert. I walk into the bedroom. Jan gives her snort-laugh. "Feeling a little drowsy are we?"

"No. Well, yeah...a little. But it feels nice."

"Well..." she gets to her knees on the bed, holding the sheet to her chest like it was the first time I'd seen her, "...as long as John-Henry can party..." She falls forward, flings herself, actually, and pulls my shorts down.

"Hmmm. I don't know."

I pull back. "Hey! He'll party. Let's talk about you."

She laughs and falls back on the pillows.

"I don't know. That story you wrote about Julie and the insulin. That was soooo kinky. You might get off on shooting me up and leave me like that DICKHEAD Anesthesiologist SAMUELS did."

"How'd you know who that story was about, by the way?"

"Oh, you are just *so* transparent sometimes. Come here. Get me off."

I start to undress as I stand beside the bed. "I've seen the way you look at her when she makes rounds. It's the same way you look at me. I *love* the way you drool..." Another snort-laugh. "Now, COME HERE!"

I sit down; she sits up, the sheet still gathered to her chest.

"Fluff my pillows." She commands; sounding happy and childish.

I fluff. She flounces back.

"Now. Everything you need is on the nightstand. There's the hep lock, a couple of tubes of Narcan and an amp of epinephrine - just in case – and the *s-h-i-t*."

I pick up the black leather case and look it over. There's a small gold plate near the zipper with an inscription: "The best shit in all the world for Jan, Love Chandra"

"O.K., now what?"

"Put the tourniquet on me."

I hit the vein on the first stick.

"Very good," she congratulates.

I tape the hep lock - the venous port that allowed access without having to stick the vein over and over - to her arm. She had already drawn the dose from the pharmacy vial. I plunge the needle into the lock and she sucks in her lower lip and hisses, "Yes..."

"Remember, my respirations drop below 8 per minute or if..." I push the plunger and feed her a cc. She gasps as the heroin hits her blood. I complete her sentence, "...you become unresponsive, aspirate, etc., give you the Narcan."

She smiles and nods, her eyes flutter shut. "Look at me Jan. I want to see your eyes while I'm doing this."

The glaze on her eyes is already forming; she smiles in a daze and tries to look at me.

"Give me another hit."

"On the way." I push slowly. Another cc.

"One more, please." Her voice is husky and quiet.

I push. Her lids flutter again. She smiles, hums and sighs. I pull the needle out and lay it on the nightstand.

I pull the sheet down. She stirs slightly, looks at me with heavy eyelids. Smiles again.

"Have fun. Oh...uh, remember, Samuels is a DICK...HEAD." She giggles and closes her eyes.

Dr. Jan Cujkati, PharmD., is a wonderful mystery. A "good" girl. 5'5", maybe 120-130. Picture Gabrielle Carteris from "Beverly Hills 90219" with Barbra Streisand's nose - sort of. At 36, she has braces on her teeth. She wears mid-calf dresses and jumpers under her lab coat. And in general looks frumpy.

On the units of the hospital she is one of the "guys" with selected staff. I count among them and I count my blessings. She is thoroughly professional but also very fun to work with. And now...

I touch her breast. Her breasts are middling big and loose. But they go perfectly with her full belly and hips. Her clothing hides a very nice body as well as her "one-of-guys" personality hides her sweet tooth for pharmacy grade smack. I begin my exploration of her sleek body and make a note to try to explore that hidden personality.

Last night she teased and stroked me for what seemed like an eternity before she coupled with me but I couldn't wait tonight. Watching the heroin overtake her and her abandoning herself to the wave of pleasure had me highly turned on.

I move down between her legs. She raises her knees and parts her thighs. "Hey, go for it..."

I take hold of her right leg behind her knee and roll her back. I look at her sex. It is flowered and slick, her petals pouting out from her brown sex hair. I position myself and slowly push and remember her first mounting from last night.

Her head lolls to side, her tongue wetting her lips. I hold her to the bed by the shoulders, leveraging my thrusts. She humps back.

Her voice is a husky, "Do it hard, ...make me feel it..." She grunts as she humps hard against one of my thrusts.

By the time I come we are both covered in sweat and breathless. I sit back and look at her. She looks ravaged and she's asleep but her breathing is deep and regular. I get up and flop into an overstuffed chair in the sitting room area of the bedroom.

***

I start to get up to get something from the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I'm a little startled. It's 10 o'clock and it's snowing to beat hell.

Jan stirs. "Would you get the door, lover?"

"Uh, sure."

I pull on my pants and shirt and head, cautiously, downstairs.

I'm standing at the door. More than a little spooked. "Uh, Who is it?"

All I can see through the peephole is a shadowy figure wrapped in a parka.

"It is I." The voice was matter-of-fact, as if I should know whom "I" is. But it also had an Indian lilt to it.

"Dr. Chandrahan?"

"Yes? Sabapturan Vihar Chandrahan. I am a medical doctor."

I opened the door. The parka came in. The hood came off and out popped Dr. Chandrahan. "You may call me Chandra. Sabapturan is such an odd name here in America but back home in Amritsar, well, it is rather common and the women love it and Chandra is a bit odd, in Amritsar. Amritsar is near Pakistan, you know. It's quite lovely in northern India..."

I got a word in. "Doctor!"

"Hmmm? Yes? Are you Scott?"

"Uh, yes, yes I'm Scott. Doctor, what are you doing here?"

"Well, is this not what you would call a 'three dog night' and is not our Jan a lovely bitch? We are two dogs." He smiles contentedly. "I thought we should thoroughly fuck and abuse our little bitch while it's so cold and she's in the mood, Mmmmmm? You do not mind do you?"

"Chandra, you goat fucker, I forgot you were coming by." Jan is leaning, bare assed naked - slumped bared assed naked, is a better descriptor, against the door frame of the stairs leading to her room.

"Well, you know, (The lilt is beginning to be just a tad annoying) in truth, you-heroin-fuck-slut-who-likely-sucks- mongrel-dogs-in-the-alley, I have never fucked a goat, though I have considered it and have been to Montana and fucked several sheep. I hear you may catch syphilis from sheep so I used condoms, which was ironic since they were made of sheep skin...."

"CHANDRA! You are so FUCKING FULL of SHIT! Come up and abuse me!"

Chandra looks momentarily confused. "I had my bowel movement today. But I should be most pleasantly happy to abuse your body."

Jan slaps her forehead. "You IDIOT, get up here and fuck me while I suck Scott off." She turns, somewhat unsteadily, and heads upstairs. I think of Janis Joplin toppling over and banging her head.

In perfect British accented English, Chandra smiles at me and motions me toward the stairs, "Please, after you. We shall enjoy her together."

***

Watching Chandra in action is an education. In exactly what, I am uncertain.

Jan is draped over the ottoman in front the bedroom chair.

"I believe," the Indian lilt is back, "you have her mouth." Chandra is naked and starting to kneel behind her.

"You know, Jan, this reminds me greatly of my time in your great State of Montana. Her name was 'Ginny', I believe," He puts a hand on her hip and prepares to mount her, his erection long and fat and in his other hand. "Yes," he stops his advance and imminent coupling and is lost in contemplation. "Yes, her name was 'Ginny' and belonged to a very nice sheep rancher named Logan, I think. Very nice fellow and Ginny was very nice too. Nice twat."

Jan's voice is back to the husked whisper. She repeats Chandra's name several times before she gets his attention.

"Yes, my ewe?"

"Would you like me to 'baa' for you to heightened the experience?"

He is quiet in thought.

"Chandra, for God's sake! Mount me!!"

"Wou… would you mind...very much...just a few," He slides into her sex in one long stroke, adjusts to her cunt, "...just a few 'baa's'?"

She starts to protest when I take her by the hair, pulling her head up level with my cock. She gets half a 'baa' out before I push past her lips.

By 3 a.m. Jan is lying sprawled, face down on her bed, snoring. Her body is slick with sweat, sperm and large amounts of her fluids mingled with KY Jelly.

I have never French kissed for so long a time since high school and Michelle Davis. I held Jan tight and we kissed, sucking and nipping at each other's lips and tongues as Chandra, a devoted practitioner of tantric arts, worked his entire *forearm* into her ass. As he stroked her large intestines he bent and suckled a breast.

Jan breaks with me for a moment and lazily presses Chandra's head to her tit. "Chandra, I bet Ginny didn't let you *GUT FUCK HER* nor did she have tits worth sucking."

He kisses her tenderly then breaks the kiss, gives a little arm movement causing Jan to convulse, presumably (?) in pleasure. "This is a certainty. But..." another arm movement, "I did know a rather large Brahmin cow in Chittagong whom I was able to go into up to my shoulder. And...she had," another arm movement and Jan arches off the bed, biting her lower lip, "larger udders but I had no desire to suck them like I do yours. Are you in pain or pleasure, my ewe?"

At first she does not answer, simply holds the arch and her breath. "Wellllll, another couple of cc's wouldn't hurt...but I...I...."

"You haven't been practicing like I told you, have you?"

"...I.... uh...NO. But this is soooooo weird. I hurt but the feeling is... soooo..." she arches a little higher as if to get away from it, "...soooo..."

"Scott, give her a cc or 2." The British accent is back. "One can not just pull ones' arm abruptly from someone else's intestines without causing great harm."

She sags into my arms as the junk hits the blood, a look of narcotic bliss on her face. 15 minutes later Chandra has extricated his arm from her ascending colon and roughly pushes his cock in her mouth.

By 3 a.m. I think, no, I know, I sank to a level of depravity I have never known. We did everything one could conceive to her.

Chandra leaves around 4 after helping me to clean her and the bed and the room up.

***

"Did you walk here? In the snow storm?" Light conversation as he dons his parka.

"Hmmmm? Yes. Yes I did walk."

"Well why don't you stick around till morning?"

"Oh, that would be a great pleasure but I must go and meditate before I make rounds. I shall meditate about the snow."

And he's gone.

***

It's 4:15 Saturday afternoon. I smell urine and see a growing wet spot on the sheet. Maybe it's time to wake her.

"Jan. Jan?" I nudge her shoulder. "You've just wet the bed."

She stirs, wrinkles her nose. "Oh, damn it! I dreamt I was in the bathroom." She starts to cry a little bit. I start to get a little worried.

"Hey. Hey!!" She starts to doze. "Come on, let's sit up a while."

I fairly drag her to her sitting room chair. She keeps nodding off. Time maybe for some Narcan.

A few minutes and 10cc's of Narcan later she holds her head in her hands while I strip the bed.

"Rubber sheets, eh?"

She looks in my direction, tries to focus. "Let's just say this isn't the first time I've had a little bladder control problem."

She moans.

"Feeling like you're going to be sick?"

"No, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What you guys do to me last night?"

"The more germane question is what didn't we do to you. Chandra had his *entire* forearm up your ass."

She chuckles, looks introspective: "Oh. God. I remember that. That was so weird. But then Chandra's a might peculiar."

I helped her get cleaned up and then back in bed. We had a light dinner and went to bed together. No drugs and I didn't think there'd be any sex but she reached for my hand in the darkness.

I held her hand until I felt her grip relax and heard her sleep breathing come on.

Outside it was snowing again.

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