Payton's Sexy Anniversary Ch. 01

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Payton has a hot and wet fantasy to start her anniversary.
1.7k words
4.08
31.8k
2

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 02/06/2009
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My name is Payton Davis and I have been a very happily married woman for over a decade now. That may sound boring and cliché to some, but first impressions can be, and often are, quite deceiving. As my tenth anniversary recently approached, I knew that my husband Luke would be treating me like a princess; he always does. A typical anniversary for me has come to include receiving a sweet, simple, yet well-chosen card and a handsome bouquet of my favorite, deep lavender colored roses from Luke, and going to an intimate dinner for two at our favorite, out of the way bistro.

I revel in these sweet touches, I really do. However, the climax of an anniversary for me is always a surprise gift that Luke has spent days and months to find for me. Actually, this is usually just the first of many climaxes I experience in celebration of our wedding vows each year, but more on that in a bit.

Some years my special gift is a piece of jewelry, but never something mundane. Luke's taste in jewelry always pleases and surprises me, with some of the most charming and unusual jeweled pieces and trinkets one can imagine. Other anniversary gifts from Luke have included exquisitely exotic perfumes and even articles of fine clothing, something most men would avoid buying due to a mixture of equal parts disinterest and outright fear. Despite being very much a man's man, I often joke that my husband must have been an elegant woman with a bold taste for the finer things in his/her prior life. In any case, he always manages to find a unique anniversary gift to make me feel beautiful, desired and deeply loved. If you haven't noticed by now, I am quite spoiled by my husband and I make no apologies for it.

This year, Luke's first gift to me was his performing all of my weekly cleaning chores, on the night before our anniversary, while I worked a difficult evening shift as a nurse. My husband knows that cooking and cleaning are among my biggest sexual turn-offs. One may question his actual level of altruism in vacuuming and dusting the entire first floor and scrubbing the upstairs bathrooms by hand. However, if he had an ulterior motive, then his level of effectiveness was beyond question.

I arrived home tired and stressed to the max. Luke greeted me with a soft, meaningful kiss and a cold glass of Pinot-Grigio, as I was gently led up to our sparkling clean master bath. The entire house was spotless and the kids were safely tucked in their beds. The delightfully quiet scene was disturbed only when I found our whirlpool tub humming softly as it bubbled up with warm, lilac scented water. The only light in the room emanated from a dozen candles of various shapes and sizes. I quickly peeled off my scrubs, bra and panties, and slipped into the luxurious bath that had been drawn for me. Luke asked me what I would like to wear to bed. Even before I spoke the words, my thankful, yet lustful look told him that a large, soft towel was all that I would need when my bath was finished.

As I lay basking in the warm, amber glow of the candles, the hardships of my day began to slip away. The pain-pill popping old lady in Room 303, who kept nagging me for narcotic pain medications hours before she could have them again, safely faded from my memory. The sight and sounds of the horrid family of the elderly gentleman in Room 311, who crassly and loudly argued over their shares of his estate, while he lay there silent, but alert and quietly praying that his own death would arrive most swiftly, became more distant in my mind. Images of the haughty and obnoxious attending physicians I dealt with, and my occasionally petty and disagreeable co-workers, also seemed to dissolve into the soothing, fragrant water that swirled and eddied around my body.

One pleasant thought that did remain with me was the witty banter, and give and take flirting I had exchanged that night with our shift's overworked, but hot as hell resident physician, Dr. Tyson. Although he was about five years younger than I, he paid scant attention to the newly graduated nurses who were constantly trying to use their perky little tits and tiny asses to snag the best looking resident in the hospital.

My patients always receive the best care possible, not only because I am a damn good nurse, but also because they are assured that Dr. Tyson will check in on them more frequently than the other patients in our ward. Not coincidentally, this extra attention from Dr. Tyson usually occurred when I happened to be in my patients' rooms, giving treatments or doing assessments. I am equally impressed by Dr. Tyson's medical knowledge, intelligence and bedside manner. A large part of our flirting stems from a mutual respect for our respective abilities, along with the sharply sarcastic sense of humor we share.

I found myself thinking back to Room 309, where I had assisted Dr. Tyson, or Greg as he insists I call him when the other nurses are not around. That evening he worked on re-applying a complicated dressing that a purposely un-cooperative patient had earlier ruined. After giving the problem patient a stern, but appropriate rebuke for his actions in pulling the dressing off, Greg removed his lab coat and went to work. At six feet four inches tall and what looked to be a well-sculpted two hundred and twenty-five pounds, Greg gave off the impression that all he did was study, practice medicine and work out to maintain that incredible body.

He looked up at me with his deep-set, dark brown eyes and movie star good looks and asked me to come over and lend him a hand, literally. The dressing was complicated and difficult to place near the patient's knee, where a sharp metal spoke had pierced his leg in a motorcycle accident. Greg needed to have me hold one portion of the dressing in place while he carefully applied the remainder of the bandages in two other places. While I could have done this by taking one side of the dressing or the other, he gestured to me to hold the center portion. The fact that he then had to put his powerful arms around me to reach the rest of the dressing in this position appeared to contribute heavily to his thinking.

As his skilled hands worked their magic on the patient, his arms massaged the sides of my breasts, occasionally squeezing them tightly together so that my very large breasts nearly spilled out of my slightly too small bra. Taking his lead, I leaned in more closely to the patient. This had the dual effect of positioning my erect and aching nipples against his forearms, as my round, full ass pressed back against his impressive and rapidly growing erection. With each movement he made, the satin lining of my bra rubbed against my nipples and areolas, and his cock slid up and down the middle of my ass. My breathing became more rapid as he worked. The dressing took an uncommonly long time to place. The patient looked like he might say something about our "unusual" treatment methods, but Greg shot him another hard look and the patient looked away until we were finished.

The thought of how wet my pussy became during that treatment session flooded my mind. Just as my juices had flooded my panties when Greg moved his hard cock against my ass, his arms worked their magic on my chest. Suddenly, I shuddered as a powerful orgasm rippled through my body, alternatively tensing and relaxing each muscle from my vagina to my toes and back again. It felt like my pussy might never stop contracting, almost as if it were grasping for Greg's hard cock, trying to pull it into me and fill me up like I knew it would.

But no, I did not climax from Greg's ministrations as a patient watched, although it was awfully close to happening as he finished the dressing and slowly withdrew his arms from around my body. Rather, as I regained my senses I realized that I was still lying in my sumptuous bath and that the fingers on my right hand had found their way to my swollen clitoris. They made quick work of relieving the last bit of tension, in this case, quite pleasurable sexual tension, which I had brought home from work that night.

My soft moaning as I came apparently included Greg's name and some crude references to my desire for his large phallus, although I truly can't remember anything I said. Opening my eyes, I saw my Luke standing there with a bemused smile. I attempted to return his gaze with my most innocent look, but I was betrayed by the sight of my right hand now dipping deeply past the puffy folds of my vaginal lips to massage my G-spot, my left hand alternatively massaging my right breast and squeezing my nipples, and the tell-tale butterfly shaped, pinkish-red flush that appeared on my chest whenever I am truly aroused.

Luke's smile only became more devilish as he helped me out of the suddenly too cold bath and into a thick, cozy towel.

"Working with Dr. Tyson again tonight?" he asked, although he surely knew the answer.

"Now that you mention it, I believe I did," I replied, trying, but miserably failing to sound matter-of-fact.

Luke laughed lightly, kissed me gently and teasingly from behind on my cheek and then my sensitive neck and shoulders. He asked in his sexy bedroom voice whether I had any energy left for him, or if my "relaxing" bath had done me in for the night.

I reached back and took hold of the outline of Luke's stiff, thick penis through the strained material of his boxer briefs and whispered huskily in his ear, "Oh, I have something left for you. Now get in bed, get naked and don't dare play with this," I said as I squeezed his rod harder, "it's all mine tonight."

With that, I slowly pulled away and playfully pushed him out of the bathroom door. I was only getting started, and from the hardness of his cock it was clear that he knew it too.

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9 Comments
26thNC26thNCover 4 years ago
Not bad

Not a bad story, but Like should have a word with Dr Tyson about boundaries.

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
already damned GOOD ! !

a sequel, please

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
Great start

Great start to what could be a great series, please carry on.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
Sick minded whore

Just a selfish slut who couldn't care less about her wimp husband. If he had any back bone at all he wouldn't tolerate her cheating behaviour and boot her ass out the door.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
I don't like

greedy women like that at all. first telling hubby does everything since 10 years to keep her happy and spoilt but that is still not enough. where does that greed come from.

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