Miss Jameson

My name's Jim; I'm 34, 6 foot, average build and looks, single, footloose and fancy-free. I'm a doctor – specialising in orthopaedics in a private clinic in London. I drive a black Mercedes SL55 AMG sports car, and own my own flat in a block in an upscale area of South West London.

In short, I'm doing OK.

If you had asked me on Friday when I came home from work I would have described my home and neighbours as follows:

Although they are of widely differing ages, the other occupants of the block I live in all have one thing in common – they're all well-off financially.

Some are nice and friendly, and always smile or stop to pass the time of day whenever our paths cross; one or two even invite me to the occasional dinner parties or social gatherings.

Some, on the other hand are not.

Unfortunately, I live next door to one of those not-so-nice people - a spinster, Miss Jameson, and I have to emphasize the MISS. If anyone ever addresses her as anything other than by her correct title, does she give them a telling off! I'm not sure, but I don't think anyone many people even knew her first name.

Miss Jameson always wears her silver-grey hair up in a tight bun, a fierce looking set of pins and combs holding it all in place – and woe betide any errant hairs that decide to stray.

I have also never seen her dressed in anything other than a frilly white, loose-fitting blouse, which is always buttoned up to the collar, and a mid-shin length black, pleated skirt. This ensemble is complemented by what look like thick black tights and a sensible pair of sturdy shoes.

From this you may get the impression she is one of those thin-faced, anaemic looking women who are all skin and bone topped off by a sour looking, unattractive and severe face. Far from it; she seems to be well put together in a mature, middle-aged kind of way – big chest, well-padded hips and arse, and sturdy legs – although it's difficult to be sure because she always wears the loose-fitting clothes described above and, frankly, I've never been that interested. I would put her age at around mid 50s.

She is also reasonably attractive and, rumour has it, has even been seen to laugh although, for reasons known only to her, she does seem to always give me stern, disapproving looks whenever our paths cross.

As I said earlier that's how I would have described my home environment before last weekend.

Not any more...............

Having returned home from the clinic at around 6pm, I had the usual shower and was just finishing getting dressed while mentally planning my weekend, when the phone rang.

Little did I know that picking it up would change all my preconceived ideas about life in the suburbs.

"Hello?" I said into the mouthpiece.

"Dr. Roberts?"

"Yes."

"Hermione Jameson here. I wonder if I could trouble you for a moment of your time?" She asked hesitantly, in a tremulous and painful sounding way.

Hermione?

"What seems to be the trouble, Miss Jameson?" I responded.

"Well... I seem to have slipped and damaged myself, and am having some discomfort when I move. I wonder if I could prevail upon you to pop round for a moment or two."

Thinking I'd only be a few minutes giving her a quick check up I said that I'd be right there.

Slipping my feet into some casual shoes I checked to make sure I was presentable (zipped up chinos), grabbed my flat keys and my medical bag, and made the 3 second trip to next door.

As I was about to ring the bell the door was opened by another of my neighbours, Mrs. Williams a widow, who is a retired school teacher.

"Good of you to come so quickly Doctor; this way, " she gushed, leading straight to the master bedroom, where Miss Jameson lay on the bed, still fully clothed in her usual attire, minus her shoes.

"Hello, Miss Jameson, what seems to be the problem?" I said.

Grimacing, she replied that she had slipped on the bare tiles in the kitchen, and now had a serious pain in her side and down her right leg.

"OK, I said. "I'm going to have to examine you thoroughly. You could easily have damaged your back, thighs or legs. This will probably take a while. Do you want Mrs. Williams to stay while I check, as it's usual to have a female nurse present when I examine ladies?"

"Oh, I am sure everything will be alright," she replied. "Thank you for your help Betty, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

As Mrs. Williams made her departure, I asked Miss Jameson if she could stand. She did so, but visibly seemed to be in pain, so I told her to lay back on the bed.

Moving to her bedside I said that I was going to have to loosen her clothing to check for damage. As I pulled her blouse out from her skirt I noticed she had on a silken camisole. This too was pulled from the waistband of her skirt.

For the next couple of minutes or so I thoroughly checked her back for signs of major problems and, apart from a slight swelling in her right side where a small bruise was developing, the only remarkable thing I noticed was that she had amazingly soft and smooth skin – a highly surprising fact for a woman of her age.

Running my hands gently over her thighs and buttocks on the outside of her clothes I identified another couple of areas where she winced in pain.

"I'm sorry Miss Jameson," I said. "I'm going to have to examine your thighs more closely."

Nodding her acquiescence, I proceeded to push her skirt up, exposing her thighs as I began to check for any damage in this area.

Imagine my surprise when, instead of thick tights which I believed she always wore, my hands slipped smoothly up sheer silky stockings to the bare skin at the top.

Hiding my surprise at this revelation, I slowly examined the outside and back of each thigh and was relieved to find that although painful, it appeared she had only suffered bruising.

"Well, Miss Jameson, it appears you've been very fortunate," I said. "I don't think you've suffered any major damage – some bruising to your back and lower spine plus further bruising to the upper front and side of your right leg. I know it hurts, but I have some ointment in my bag which will bring out the bruising, and should help take away the pain."

Opening a tube I extracted from my bag, I applied some cream to her bruised side.

"To have maximum and prompt effect this needs to be massaged in gently for a while," I said. "Would you like me to do this, or would you prefer to do it yourself?"

"Oh no Doctor," she murmured softly, (and uncharacteristically). "Please carry on."

So I continued to rub the ointment in for a few minutes until it had all been absorbed, and she visibly began to relax.

"OK?" I asked, when I had finished in that area.

"Thank you," she replied. "It feels less painful already."

"OK. Now Miss Jameson, I need to push your skirt completely out of the way while I apply some cream to the top of your leg. Also, we need to leave the areas uncovered for a few minutes, otherwise the cream may stain your clothes. Would you like me to find a towel so that you can preserve your modesty?"

"No," she said, surprisingly. "After all, you are a doctor."

As I pushed her skirt completely up and away from the bruising I was starting to have distinctly un-doctor like thoughts. She had beautiful legs and thighs, made even more appealing by the softness of her skin, and the fact that they were encased in silk stockings. Her white knickers even looked like silk.

As I began to massage ointment into her upper thigh she groaned – in pain, I thought, stopping to ask her if she was OK.

"No," she replied. "I'm fine, please carry on."

As I began again I noticed that she was breathing rather heavily - her chest was rising and falling quite markedly.

At the same time I noticed a distinctly musky female odour. I also spotted a damp patch beginning to spread out from the V of her knickers, and a large protuberance pushing out from the top of her pubic region.

"Bloody Hell!", I thought. She's getting turned on by all this.

Now I was really torn in two minds. Professional etiquette and ethics demanded that I defused this situation immediately. On the other hand, here was the previously unfriendly Ice Spinster showing signs of humanity; not only that, she was beginning to turn me on as well.

So, deciding that a I could get away with a little more fun I continued to massage her upper thigh – only now I was doing it in a slightly more provocatively sensual manner.

After a couple more minutes her breathing was becoming quite ragged, and she was gripping the bed cover quite forcibly with both hands spread out.

The wet patch in her knickers was now very pronounced, and what could only be described as a monster clit was very well outlined.

Good God, I thought. If she gets this worked up with a bit of massaging what's the real thing like?

Rearranging her legs so I could finish off massaging the bruising on the front of her thigh I accidentally, (honestly), ran the back of my hand over her very prominent clit.

That's all it took....

With a very large, long drawn out "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...!" she shuddered into a huge orgasm. Her whole body seemed to vibrate, and she fell into a faint.

Leaving her briefly I went to her kitchen and soon returned with a glass of water, just as her eyelids began to flutter open.

Thinking of the potential trouble I could get into if she took what had just happened the wrong way, I handed her the glass of water with a couple of pain killers and said, in my most professional voice, "take these, they will ease any residual pain, and should also help you to get a good night's sleep."

After she had obediently swallowed the pills she looked me straight in the eye and said, in a small voice, "What just happened to me?"

"Oh that," I replied, quite nonchalantly. "I think you may have had a small orgasm."

"It's quite a common occurrence," I quickly added. "Especially after prolonged massage in a delicate area".

In a bemused voice she replied, "There's nothing common about that sensation. I've never experienced such a concentrated sensation in my life."

"Really?", I replied, genuinely quite surprised. Risking it further I continued, "I know you insist on being called Miss, but have you never experienced any sexual stimulation before?"

After pondering for a few moments, she gazed directly at me, then replied, "Well.. I was once engaged to be married. He convinced me to try various sexual activities before we were married, all of which I found extremely painful and unrewarding."

"How long did this go on for?" I enquired, now becoming interested in her story.

"Several months. Then he seemed to lose interest, and eventually he broke off our engagement. Frankly I was quite relieved," She added. "The thought of enduring such physical abuse for the rest of my life was extremely horrifying."

"Physical abuse? And you've never.."

"Never been near or with a man since," she finished off.

"So this was a first then?"

"First what?"

"This was your first orgasm induced by a man?"

"First ever, FULL STOP.!" she replied. "I have never believed in self-abuse, so I certainly have never induced such a feeling myself. And after my experiences with Ronald, my erstwhile fiancée, I have never again allowed myself to be influenced, coerced or seduced by a male ... until now", she added somewhat wistfully.

"I'm sorry if..." I began.

"..Oh No," she interjected. "It was the most beautiful sensation I have ever felt. Please don't apologise. If I never experience it again I will always thank you for showing me what could have been."

"What do you mean "..could have been", I replied.

"Well.. If you caused this reaction by accident, I'm sure you would not wish to do it again deliberately, especially with an old harridan like me," she said.

Surprising myself I replied, "Don't be silly, Miss Jameson. You are a very attractive lady under your camouflage. I would be honoured and extremely delighted to repeat the dose... and more."

"You would?" She cried, in amazement.

"Stay just where you are," I replied. "I must go and drop off my medical bag back to my flat. That will signify the end of my Doctor's visit. Can't have medical ethics rearing its ugly head, can we? I'll be right back."

Inside a minute I was back gazing at this mature lady who was still lying on her bed in the exact pose I had left her, looking slightly apprehensive, but determined at the same time.

"Right, " I said. "Let's continue the massage, shall we?"

For the next few minutes I massaged and caressed all over her back, sides and stomach, carefully staying away from any overtly sexual areas.

When she seemed sufficiently relaxed, I began caressing her thighs, alternately switching from left to right, passing high on her pelvic region each time.

Gradually the room was filled with the musky scent of her as she grew more aroused.

This time, instead of accidentally rubbing her clit, I surreptitiously pulled her gusset to one side – not an easy feat considering the fact that it was absolutely soaked and was clinging to her mons.

This revealed a beautiful pink slit, tightly closed but oozing a whitish creamy liquid. The whole nestled in a tight bed of light grey-brown silky curls. Protruding from this was the largest clit I have ever seen. As it was stiff and seemed very eager, I just had to sample this. So, leaning forward I delicately circled my tongue around it.

Within a micro second her hands had seemingly nailed my head to her, and she exploded into an amazing, quivering eruption.

Yet again she seemed to faint clean away, allowing me the opportunity to get some air. Leaning back slightly I had time to enjoy her wonderful taste more, as I licked my lips.

With a groan Miss Jameson slowly returned to consciousness.

"My God, " she murmured. "What did you do then? That was even more intense than the first time."

"That, my Dear Miss Jameson, was oral sex. I used my tongue to stimulate that marvellous clitoris you have been blessed with."

"Oral sex – Never!" she cried. "When I had my monthly periods Ronald used to stick his thing in my mouth and make me swallow his gooey stuff – he called THAT oral sex!"

"Make you?"

"Yes. Whenever it was THAT time of the month and he wasn't able to use my vagina, he'd either make me use my mouth, or stick it up my backside," she finished, blushing furiously.

"So he made you perform oral and anal sex for him. What did he do for you?"

"Nothing," she lamented. "I have had more sexual enjoyment this evening than I have ever had in the rest of my life put together."

"The things he forced you to do can be such wonderful acts, Miss Jameson. BUT, there should only be one rule in the bedroom: If you both enjoy a particular activity, or you want to please your partner, do it. If not – DON'T!"

"What do you mean?" she replied intently.

"Quite simply, Hermione: I want to make love to you. My penis, or prick, or cock, or dick as it is usually called these days, has been achingly erect for ages now. I have leaked what seems like pints of pre-cum into my pants... BUT....?

"But what..?"

"But until I judge that you are ready to engage in sexual intercourse, I have no intention of forcing myself on you. Anyway", I continued. "I'm having so much fun, turning you on, it's a stimulation in itself."

"Turning me on?" she queried.

"Yes, that's the current terminology for arousal."

"How can that be stimulation in itself?" she asked.

"Well," I replied. "There are basically two types of sexual activity – selfish and giving. If you are selfish all you are interested in is your own gratification..."

"Like Ronald?" she interjected.

"Yes, I would imagine so" I replied. "Once the selfish person has achieved their own orgasm they lose interest in their partner, and usually make excuses to be up and away."

"That was Ronald," she murmured. "Always found reasons to be off once he had finished."

"And then there's giving or mutual sex," I continued. "This is where each partner is in tune to the other's needs. One day you may want quick hard sex with no foreplay... the next you may both want to spend hours just toying with each other. The simple act of being the instrument of your partner achieving absolute pleasure may be as rewarding as actually having an orgasm, or more than one."

"Oh.. and the types of sex?"

"Well, we've already established that you love being orally stimulated, haven't we?"

"Yes," she blushingly replied.

"So what else do you think you may enjoy?" I smilingly quipped.

"I don't know," she replied after a moment's thought. "I never ever expected I would experience what has happened tonight. So, providing you are sincere when you say that all one has to do is say "no" to stop any perceived unpleasantness then I suppose I really want to catch up on lost opportunities and time."

"Meaning...?"

"Well... With Ronald I was subjected to conventional sex in many contrived positions, and whilst wearing various different costumes. I also endured him using my anus and my mouth for his own release. So, provided you are patient and tolerant, I have no taboos. I just sincerely hope you can show me the delights of sex."

"You have my word, that no harm will befall you, dear lady," I replied, taking her hand in mine.

"So," I continued, lightening the mood. "Would you like more tonight, or would you like me to go away so you can reflect on events?"

"This may appear very selfish," she murmured. "But I am totally overwhelmed by the events of tonight. I wonder if we could stop here and continue this next week... That is, if you want to. She added, hopefully.

Even though I was suffering a major case of Lover's Nuts, I manfully said "of course.. but next week?"

"I have to go to my sister's in the country for the weekend," she replied. "But, I really do look forward to continuing where we left off when we next meet".

Looking at her laying there, confused but happy, I leant down, kissed her briefly and took my leave.