The Nurse's Uniform Pt. 15

Following very hard on the heels of Part 14, this doesn't really need any introduction. I would, though, urge anyone that is reading this as the first of my storied to flip back a few. That way you will find out 'who's who.' If you have time for nothing else, please read the intro to the previous part, No 14.

*

Chapter 1

Clare, Mike's long term, live in partner was working. She was in court acting for the plaintiffs in a complicated breach of contract case. In her job as a barrister, she didn't actually go into court much. Most of her work was done in chambers or in the offices of her, usually, big corporation clients. So for her, it was a thrill to take part in the cut and thrust of courtroom, negotiating and pleading.

It wasn't just the intellectual challenge that gave her the buzz. It was also the being centre stage, in the spotlight, on show and centre of attention. Clare was a show off. She liked people looking at her. Had she not have chosen law she could just as happily been an actor, but then, she often thought smiling, good courtroom lawyers are actors.

British barristers are odd. They have to be self-employed, they cannot be briefed by members of the public, they are the breeding grounds for all British judges and they dress up when in court. They wear wigs and gowns. And that was something else that Clare really enjoyed.

Standing across the floor of the courtroom from her legal adversary she was wearing her uniform.

Short, pleated, blonde wig; black robe, more like a cloak; crisp white shirt with a cutaway, starched winged collar; tightish black skirt, black hosiery and black shoes.

Standing with her briefing book in her hand she was making a complicated speech to the judge and the defendant's council. Her gaze wandering from one middle aged man to the other, she smiled frequently and, although not overtly using her womanly wiles, she was, to an extent flirting with them.

She was wondering what they were thinking, not about the case, but about her. Were they mentally undressing me, wondering what my tits looked like, what underwear I am wearing and what it would be like to fuck me?

"Yes my Lord," she replied to a query from the judge. "My learned colleague and I fully discussed that and agreed a remedy outside court.

"Thank Ms Richards, that's fine," he replied, actually not wondering what it would be like to fuck her, but to spank her, that was more his thing.

Clare continued with her long dissertation on a complex piece of EU law that would be imposed on the UK by Brussels next year. She was standing with her right foot slightly in front of the other. Her back leg was straight; the forward one was bent slightly at the knee. Her right hand rested on her right thigh. Her fingers of that hand found the clasp of the suspender that was holding up her black stocking. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, hardly perceptively the deep red, almost crimson painted nail of her forefinger rotated on the lump beneath her black skirt. It may have been slow, it may have been hardly perceptive, but Sir Nigel Fellens, the opposing council saw it. He noticed, he knew what she was doing and he guessed, probably correctly, what Clare was wearing under her austere to some, but erotic to others, legal uniform.

They had been in chambers together before Nigel took silk and became a QC. Although they were never a number, they had slept with each other a few times and he knew about Clare's penchant for glamorous, outrageous even, erotic underwear. He had, when she was his fuckbuddy when his wife was pregnant, even bought her some stuff, risking the embarrassment of going into an Anne Summers to buy her some crutch less panties and a waspie.

And he was right. As part of the buzz, part of being on show, part of being the centre of attention and part of being an overt exhibitionist, she was wearing a black thong, a black suspender belt and a white diaphanous bra that gave her big tits the support she needed, but hid little of their precious cargoes.

Clare was a big girl. Five feet ten, just over one hundred and fifty pounds, she was big featured big boned and big titted. She had a big arse and long legs and although undoubtedly a real BBW, everything was in proportion, so most men found her appealing.

And she put it about it quite a bit

She and Mike had a fairly open relationship in that they were both free to have affairs, and they both did. Clare, though had this need, almost, and certainly a habit to seduce any man that was close to Mike. As a result she had slept with his brother, an ex business partner and was currently having an affair with Sir Bernard. He had been Mike's professor at college, was an eminent psychiatry academic on a world-wide scale and had recently agreed to be Medical Director of the new clinic; a real coup for the venture and Mike. He was also a clothes fetishist, loving to have women dress up for him or dress him up, particularly in ladies panties and stockings.

So Clare had dressed in her sexy underwear, not just because she was centre stage in the hearing, but also because Bernard had a small flat just off Chancery Lane, which was close to the Law Courts. As soon as this session, which she knew would end by lunchtime, was finished, she was going to that flat. And when she got there, she would pose for him and he would pose for her as they took photos of each other with a digital camera. They would take, maybe, a hundred or so, perhaps more, just depending on how things went. They would then download them onto a laptop, link that up to a forty-two inch plasma that was fixed to the wall in his bedroom and as that was in film show mode they would fuck each others brains out as they watched themselves on screen: a great outlet for her exhibitionistic tendencies.

Now taking photos can be dangerous if you fall out. Both Clare and Bernard were quite experienced sexual adventurers and they realised that. So no copies were ever made, the photos were downloaded onto a memory stick and were erased immediately they had finished. No trace, no record, no incriminating evidence, hence no worries and no hassle. It also meant they could be as adventurous and uninhibited as they liked.

Although in his early fifties, to Clare's mid-thirties, Bernard was an attractive man. He was slim and fit with a full head of grey hair, a good body and a great cock. He was one of those lucky men that were naturally well endowed and those nearly nine inches of thick flesh had served him well with women over the years, although for the past few years his wife had tired of it: hence a string of mistresses and now Clare.

Clare had an arse that men who are turned on by slightly larger rears, adored. And Bernard was one of those; he had always loved and gone for rather bigger women. His big cock and her big arse had provided them with hours of sexual pleasure and that they would do this afternoon.

It had been Clare's first husband, she'd had two and Mike as a longer-term, five years, live in lover, who had first photographed her. He had persuaded her to pose in her underwear, topless and naked. He had cajoled her into touching herself, using toys and making herself cum as he recorded everything on film, at the start. Yes, it was her first husband, Barry a hairdresser who had unleashed Clare's exhibitionistic tendencies.

The first photographic session happened when Clare and Barry had been married about three years. She was 23 and had just left law school; he was 38 and ran three hair dressing salons. She was hugely inexperienced having been with only three men before Barry. Barry was quite the opposite and shagged, or tried to, pretty much any attractive woman he met. That was before and during their short marriage.

Their marriage was in trouble; they both knew it. After all, when a new bride catches her husband having flings twice in the first couple of years of marriage, there's bound to be trouble. After the second time they hardly spoke for a while and had no sex for over a month. As the atmosphere improved a little Barry suggested taking the photos.

"It'll spark things up luv, you'll enjoy, I'm sure."

The idea of stripping off and being photographed was not abhorrent, but had no appeal for Clare; it was just not the sort of thing she did.

But Barry persisted. He even bought some "top shelf" magazines that he left for Clare to look at. She did and was amazed. The girls were so attractive, the costumes, mainly underwear, were lovely and everything was done so well. She wasn't quite turned on by looking at them, women never had been her thing, but they did intrigue and excite her a little; they made her heart beat a little quicker, for she imagined herself being in their positions.

After several rows and a load of pressure from Barry, she eventually agreed.

He set up some lights he had hired in their bedroom: at the time, they lived in a big flat in south London. Clare had drunk two large glasses of red wine, she was slightly tipsy, but the booze had done its trick; her inhibitions had been lowered.

He took a few of her fully dressed, some with her blouse undone and then a number as she removed her jeans. She had, at Barry's suggestion, worn a thong, with holdup stockings, high heels and a skimpy, well for a pair of DD boobs it was, bra. She kept her blouse on and sat and stood as he shot her from a variety of angles. He then told her to take her blouse off and took photos as she sat then laid on the bed.

"Ok Clare, now take your bra off, show me your luscious tits."

That phrase not only seemed to hit her like a sledgehammer, it also seemed to waken something inside her. So, as she reached behind her for the clasp, as she unclipped her bra, as she slid each strap from her shoulders and as, almost like a stripper, she eased the cups away from her breasts, she felt something else apart from the embarrassment and shyness she had been feeling. Something excited her; something turned her on something, made her pulses race and her flesh tingle. Something made her nipples harden, her breasts feel so heavy and her clit tingle. Something made her female juices start to flow. Something, that she could hardly believe, as her husband took shot after shot of her in just her panties and stockings, made her start to cum.

Barry saw that, he witnessed the effect the camera had on his wife. He expected it, he was pretty certain it would happen, it nearly always did. With practically all the women and the girls from his salons he had persuaded to pose for him, it happened. The camera seduced them and then he fucked them. And that was exactly what happened with Clare.

And that was why she became addicted to Barry's camera, why she let him, over the next year and almost right up until they parted, take photographs of her. It was also why she let him slowly persuade her to pose naked, to spread her legs, to touch herself, to put her fingers up her pussy, to use a vibrator and other toys and to let him shoot her as she gave herself orgasms. It was the combination of the enormous buzz as the camera became her lover and the lens the enormous cock she so yearned for, and the awesome sex they had during and after each session, that was the appeal to her. But, and she didn't realise this at the time, it was also the latent exhibitionist in her that Barry was awakening, which was the major turn on.

"Kneel on all fours, your head resting on your arms, your face turned towards the camera. Now turn your bum a bit, open your legs wider and lift yourself up more, so those great big tits hang down straight," Bernard was saying after they had been in the flat half hour or so. "I'll put it on timer, then come up behind you and fuck you doggy style, as our friend records it. Ok?"

"Mmmmm, yes," Clare said adopting the pose Bernard had prescribed.

Chapter 2

Emma was gentle. She was tender, patient and caring. She was considerate, sensitive and loving. She was also adventurous and dominant when she at last fucked Sammi. As Emma lifted the thin dress up her body and discarded it on the floor, saying how much she wanted Sammi, the blonde was captivated. There were no doubts, no concerns and little hesitation in her accepting that she was, at last, going to be had by her boss.

Emma had a fabulous body. She was a little taller than Sammi, around 5 feet seven, and weighed just under one hundred and forty pounds. She had full hips, womanly hips, child bearing, as Abdullah al Korensi had once described them: Arabs liked their women to be a little voluptuous. Her legs were not overly long, but were shapely with nicely tapered calf muscles, trim ankles and lithe thighs, although she felt they were slightly chunky. Her bum was gorgeous, some had called it a "black girl's bum" for it stuck out more than most and had superbly rounded cheeks. It was a bum that men adored, pampered, played with and, for the lucky few, fucked. Her stomach was flat with taught muscles, having never been stretched by childbirth. Being of Balkans descent she had a slightly olive skin, which was smooth and soft to the touch. She had a lovely face with almond shaped, brown eyes that were blessed by naturally long lashes and a slightly oversized mouth. Her lips were full with a delightful cupids bow look to them. Both the top and bottom lips were quite thick and were magical to kiss and even more so to be sucked by. Her pert nose, well-defined cheekbones, high forehead, squarish chin and the full main of dark hair finished off her beauty.

As near perfect, highly erotic and pleasant to look at, as all of that was, her crowning glory, or glories really, were her spectacular breasts. They were very round, they burst out from her chest a long way and, even at her forty three years, were still pert and had little sag. They were capped by dark aureole and sizeable nipples that were hyper sensitive. They weren't massive, just an ample C, going on D cup, it was their round fullness that gave them their spectacular appearance, both clothed and naked.

"You do want us to make love, don't you Sammi?" She said, her eyes glinting as she saw the look of awe on the younger woman's face.

Sammi had never been propositioned, never been seduced and had never been pulled by another woman. But she was now experiencing all of those things.

Emma had been building up the tension, tightening the seduction, increasing the sexual pressure for several months now. She badly wanted Sammi. Not only sexually, but also to possess her. She wanted her to be her successor as the Al Khorensi family whore. She had been fucking the old man, the dad, the Sheikh for over fifteen years now and his two sons for five. She also performed other sexual favours for them. Bedding potential business partners, easing deals, finding out information and getting men to do things in a few weeks that would, without her letting them shag her or her giving them a blow job, have taken months.

It had made Emma hugely wealthy, but her advancing years were against her. Both with the Sheik's two sons, Ahmad and Sunni, and with many of the clients and business contacts. Sure, for twenty year olds the prospect of fucking an "older woman" was a huge attraction. But for thirty to sixty year olds the pleasure of sweet, taught skin and firm, tight cunts far outweighed the experience of the fading attractions of forty somethings. So she needed a successor and had chosen Sammi as that. But to get her to do what she wanted, Emma had to dominate and control the younger woman. And she planned to do that by making Sammi so sexually dependent on her that the young blonde would be only too pleased to do whatever Emma wanted.

And the start point for that, Emma had decided, was right here and now in the sitting room of their suite in the hotel.

She looked right into Sammi's eyes as slowly she cupped her own breasts and whispered.

"You do, don't you Sammi?"

Sammi did. She wanted Emma to make love to her. She had wanted that for nearly all the time they had worked together, getting on for a year now. She had wanted to be made love to by Emma ever since she had started to feel that the older woman, liked her, was interested in sex with other women. Sammi was totally bi and gained equal pleasure from sex with men as she did from women, although her action with them had been more kissing and groping than full on sex. Whilst she had "been to bed" with three different girls, with two of them they had been one offs and with Ronni, her flat mate, they had had sex twice. She had flirted, kissed, groped and been groped by several girls at clubs and parties, but was still to experience oral sex, either giving or receiving. Her lesbian orgasms to date had all been finger induced. As she watched the naked Emma caressing her own beautiful breasts, she had a strong feeling that shortly it would be something else that would provide her orgasm. Yes, she felt sure, as Emma moved closer to her that the tongue she could see poking out from the parted, crimson lips would soon be parting her other pinker lips

"Yes, Emma," she whispered, her eyes roaming over her bosses body as the older woman's arms pulled her against it.

Emma looked deep into Sammi's eyes as she moved her face nearer and nearer. Sammi could see Emma's black eye liner, her eyelashes, the lip gloss even the tiny hairs on her face. And she could smell the combination of Emma's perfume, her hair spray and her musky feminine arousal. That thrilled her and, as the older woman's mouth closed onto hers, she shuddered with the thought that she, little Sammi, the young nurse was making the sexual juices of the experienced Emma, run.

The kiss was fabulous; it was soft, gentle and knowing. Emma took it slowly. She was patient, she didn't rush Sammi. She made sure that the young inexperienced girl was comfortable with each stage before making the next advance. She kissed her with closed lips before opening her mouth. She rotated her parted lips on Sammi's before slipping her tongue inside. She waited for Sammi to respond with her tongue before gently taking the tip of that between her teeth and then sucking it into her own mouth. She let Sammi become tuned to that before placing her top lip between Sammi's lips and her bottom one beneath Sammi's bottom one and then sucking on that, sucking Sammi's bottom lip right into her mouth. Hearing the low moan as the blonde was captivated by the kissing; Emma repeated the sucking on Sammi's upper lip and then repeated that on her lower lips and, once more, her tongue. She took the blonde's upper lip, then her lower one between her teeth. In turn, she gently nibbled each lip with her teeth whilst, she licked it with her tongue. Including having a cock in there, that was the most erotic thing that had ever been done to the young woman's mouth; it almost made Sammi cum.

She was ravishing Sammi with her kissing, almost orally raping the younger woman, although nothing was forced and everything was accepted willingly by both women.

Sammi was blown away. Nobody, not male or female, had ever kissed her like this before. But then that wasn't surprising for it was unlikely that she had ever been with such an expert kisser as Emma. Sammi tried giving something back, but each time she did, this amazing woman "moved the goalposts." It made the younger woman realise just how naïve she was about kissing. It also made her incredibly excited and aroused. And still, Sammi suddenly realised, Emma had not touched her or even undressed her. Emma was naked, Sammi was wearing a tee and shorts, although she was not wearing a bra so the breasts of the older woman had been squashing against hers.

"And Sammi," Emma whispered, that is what we are going to do my love. "We are going to have the most amazing sex."

They kissed again. This time Sammi was a little more adventurous with her hands, which until now had rested on Emma's back. Now, though, she slid them down and stroked the gorgeous roundness of the older woman's bum.