Mr. Confetti Man 03

I suppose you are wondering that with all the screwing around I seem to do, much of it without condoms, how I keep from getting any of the number of STDs out there. Well, first, I am judicious. It try to get to know the women first...though that isn't always the case, e.g., Conchita but even she seemed to be enough of a health and fitness buff to make it worth the risk. Deidre is only screwing two people, her husband Drexel and me; and I know her well enough to trust her on that. Karen, I am absolutely sure, is only having sex with me--no question there. With the extra woman here and there that I wind up in bed with, I use a condom. Moreover, I get regularly tested for STD's, every month or two. Which brings us to....

Desi is a 25 year old nurse, well almost--I'll explain later. She is from "The Islands" and is one of those shockingly beautiful women whose lineage includes ancestors from a multitude of countries and colors. She can trace her background back generations. One of her great to the 6th grandmothers was a native Carib, her great to the 6th grandfather a freed slave of African descent. Mix in and English trader, and a illegitimate daughter plantation owner and a Portuguese soldier...well you get the idea. Desi is the poster girl for the refinement that mixed races can produce.

At 5'10" (1.8m) is barely 140lbs (63kg) and Desi is as graceful as a jaguar. If her breasts are a C-Cup I would be surprised--they are more likely a B or a B+; in any event, while attractive they are not her defining feature. Her skin is dark, smooth blemish free, and has a glow about it. Her face is a bit round but nicely proportioned. It is her eyes and her smile that will win one over in an instant. A look, and a smile, and a sentence containing that island lilt of hers and your heart melts like butter. But it is her personality that is her defining trait: a poised woman, calm, reserved but with those flashes of joy and mirth that are captivating. Desi is one of a kind.

A technician in the lab where I go, Desi is the one who helps me with my blood tests, "p" tests, and swabs for my STD testing. She went to school to become a nurse on her home island, passed all of the tests, and was registered as a professional nurse. Her nursing credentials were not recognized here, so she is back in nursing school to qualify for certification here. She is bright, bright, BRIGHT; plus her British educational system taught her the value of study and hard work--a RN was soon to be hers.

So, this is all embarrassing for me, that is going into this lab and testing for STDs on a fairly regular basis and there is the lovely Desi handling all of the non-invasive tests in a professional and businesslike manner. She can't draw blood but she can do swabs and supervise the urine samples. It is bizarre, but over the months I got to feel like I knew her and, of course, was attracted to her--who wouldn't be?

I was at the lab just before noon, getting my regular testing done. Desi finished up exactly and 12:00 noon. She was just putting the samples in an envelope and attaching my ID sticker when it was time for lunch. The lab closed from 12:00Noon until 1:30PM. She was headed for lunch.

I took a chance and asked her, "Desi, would it be forward of me to ask you to lunch today?"

In the reserved manner that I have come to know, she said, "Yes, it WOULD be forward of you, Mr. Drummond."

My face must have fallen with that response, so I said, "Well, Desi, I can't blame you for saying 'no'. It was worth it to me to ask, though."

"Mr. Drummond, you asked me if it would forward of you to ask me to lunch," she responded in a logical manner, "and I said it would be forward. But I didn't say 'NO', did I? So, the question you should have asked is, 'Desi, would you go to lunch with me?'. Now, if you would have asked THAT question, my answer would have had an answer for you."

"Desi, O.K.," said I assuming some false humility, "would you go to lunch with me? Today?"

Desi smiled that dazzling smile of hers and said, "Well, YES, Mr. Drummond. I would be happy to...but...we must go somewhere away from here. Employees are not supposed to fraternize with our patients...not unethical...just against policy. But I'll make an exception in your case."

"That's wonderful, Desi!" I said with no little joy in my voice, "do you know where "The Grind" is? It's only a few blocks away and I doubt anyone from here would think of eating lunch there. It is a coffee place but they do have sandwiched, fruit, and things....O.K.?"

I gave her the address. I headed for my car and she headed for hers. In ten minutes we were sitting across from each other sharing a coffee and waiting for our sandwiches.

"Desi, I'm glad I can have the chance to chat with you," I started out, "you've had me as a secret admirer for months. I don't know much about you except your from "The Islands" and you're studying to be a nurse. Tell me more."

"Oh, Mr. Drummond," she said mildly, "you name isn't Mr. Drummond I know....that's just your first name but, well, calling you 'Mister' just makes it more formal for me, you being a patient and all."

"That's quite all right, Desi, I have no problem with that at all," I said to put her at ease.

She proceeded to give me a brief rundown of her life as a nurse in "The Islands", her decision to move to the USA. She was frank about leaving home for here because of a break up of her marriage that she was essentially contracted to as a teenager, and the challenge of re-establishing her credentials as a nurse. She didn't seem bitter about any of this. She was matter of fact with a large dose of hopefulness.

As our sandwiches arrived, she said, "You, know...er...Drummond, that I wonder why it is you come in so frequently for your testing. I know it is all 'self-ordered', no doctor's orders, and out doctor gives you the results. 'Why' has always been in the back of my mind...so, if I might ask, WHY?"

I was a little disconcerted by the question but I composed myself and said, "Desi...I have never been embarrassed about my coming in for STDs testing before. For me, I think it just makes good sense...I'll tell you why in a minute...but, since you've been there helping me I have felt rather self-conscious about it. I am happy you haven't expressed any judgment at all..to me at least."

"I am a medical person, Drummond, I try not to judge," she said professionally, "but I do have my curiosity....in this case not entirely medical...about why you have this testing done. Does that help?"

"Immensely, Desi," with that opening I continued, "I'm going to rely on your discretion and, well, ethic of confidentiality, if I might. The situation is this, Desi, I...er...have a number of girlfriends...I know that sounds like I'm bragging...but these women friends are very close and dear to me...and...well...I'm not 'exclusive' with any of them nor are they 'exclusive' with me...if you know what I mean...so, for their safety and mine, I make sure that I get tested for STD's regularly. Does that make sense to you, Desi?"

"Well, of course it does, Drummond," she said between bites of her sandwich, "that is a marvelous position to take! There would be much less threat of STDs if more people, men and women, took that approach. But there is one thing...and I hope I won't embarrass you...How come so many girlfriends? I mean....well....?"

I looked her in her gorgeous brown eyes and said, "Well...yes...that is a VERY GOOD question. Again I'm going to rely on your discretion and confidentiality...and I'm going to be very honest with you...The long and short of it is, I adore women. I love beautiful, smart, honest, women...of course their looks are a factor but not the deciding one. And...honestly I don't know why...just by being friendly...no really being a friend...some women are just attracted to me...and I to them. I absolutely can't brag about any of this...it just happens. I don't know exactly how else to explain it."

Desi smiled and said, "Oh, I think I have an idea why Drummond, but it will take me some time to test my hypothesis, to put it in a scientific way. Just how many of these women to you have on 'the string'....is that a way to put it?"

"Oh, Desi, I don't know that I'd call it 'on the string' really," I answered, "it is more that we just like each other and we spend time together and...well.... yes...we have....uh...sex together. It makes them happy, it makes me happy...so....everybody is...well...happy! And I don't make any secrets of it to any of them. They all know that I have sex with other women and they are perfectly O.K., with it, each for their own reasons. And...yes...if any of them were to have sex with another man...that's O.K. with me, too. But we also agree to let each other know if we have sex outside of our relationship without using protection, so that we can make sure we're safe by getting tested. It's real simple. If that doesn't happen then the sex part goes away. Does that make sense to you, Desi?"

"It makes absolute sense to me, Drummond," Desi said as she finished her sandwich, "and I admire you for it. You have been very helpful to me...very. And I thank you for this nice lunch and the time we've had to talk. I will see you soon...I expect...and I don't mean to joke. You are a really nice man."

"Thank you for taking your time to talk to me and for being so understanding, Desi," I said gently shaking her hand, "and, yes, I shall see you again at the lab, unless you pass your boards and Ms. Desi, RN, finds herself in a quality medical job. I so admire you, too, for your determination. Good bye, for now."

She went to her car, and I to mine. She headed back to work and I headed over to Karen's.

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I cruised up the long driveway to Karen's house. Yes, it was palatial! It had the feel of one of the old English manor houses but with modern touches. Instead of being one solid, rectilinear block of rooms with regular windows across the front for three floors, it had terraces and balconies. It did not look like a hodgepodge, it looked more like something of a modern conception of an English mansion while still retaining a general feel of a British aristocrats country home. Kurt and Karen could easily afford this place as well as several others they owned around the USA and around the world.

As large as the place was, Karen only lived in a few rooms, the rest being closed off and used only when there were guests there. The servant staff--that sounds stuffy, doesn't it--the housekeeping staff was limited while it was just Karen in residence. A housekeeper, a cook, a gardener/mechanic, were the total number Karen needed--although she insisted that she didn't even need them for most of the time.

It was a sunny, warm day and Karen was out by the pool in the fresh air. She mostly stayed out of the sun; with her fair complexion, she could sunburn in just a few minutes. She was sitting on a chaise chaise longue under an umbrella scanning her tablet for the news. Karen had on a modest two piece bathing suit. It was bone dry; she hadn't been swimming.

I snuck up behind her, leaned over the back of the chaise and gave her a kiss on the shoulder. She wasn't startled but squirmed a bit and the unexpected show of affection.

"It's the pool man, Madam, and I'm here to service your pipes!" I said in faked an English accent.

"Well, in that case," she picked up on the joke, "you will need to inspect them first. Did you bring your 10 inch probe with you today? I think my 'pipes' are in need of it!"

"Yes, madam, right away," I joshed back, "do you think we should start upstairs in the master bath...baahth, that is?"

"C'mon, Drummond! Get your ass upstairs with me NOW! I've been waiting all week for this!" she said as she hoisted herself off the chaise and scampered toward the house.

"Your wish is my command, Madam!" I said as I hurried after her.

The servants, excuse me, housekeeping staff turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to my visits with Karen. The NDA's (Non-Disclosure Agreements) reinforced their strict confidentiality as to what went on in Kurt and Karen's household. But half the time, Karen would come to my place to have sex. She said she felt more relaxed and comfortable in that environment than in her own house.

Karen had far less to take off that I did...a two piece bathing suit and, "voila" naked. I, on the other hand had a full complement of garments. I was slipping out of my shoes and unbuttoning my shirt when Karen's impatience showed itself. She pushed me back on the bed, in did my belt, unzipped my and dragged them off my body, underwear and all. I was still fussing with my shirt when she literally tore it off m body, buttons flying everywhere.

" Don't worry about that," she cried as she jumped on my now body, "I'll buy you a new one hell, I'll buy you a dozen! I'm horny...let's FUCK!"

And fuck we did! The sight of her naked body caused my cock to spring to life, from 7" to 10" in 10 seconds...not a record...but close. I could tell Karen was in fact and indeed very horny as my cock slid so easily into her slippery "lady parts". As I lay on my back, Karen on top, I let her do all the work. I understood that she knew what she needed so I decided to let her have it her way. I could feel my cock "bottom out" inside her vagina as she thrust her body down and against me. She pulled away until my cock was almost entirely out of her and then she thrust again. Each time this, she sighed but the more she did it, the faster and more vigorous were her thrusts and the louder were her sighs. She became almost violent working my cock in and out of her vagina...faster...harder...deeper...faster...harder. Her sighs turned into moans and then into a guttural grunting.

Her red hair was swirling around in rhythm with her body's motions. Her head was down, her eyes were closed. Her arms were supporting her body with her hands on my shoulders; her grip was intense, almost painful to me. It was a one--woman wrestling match...and she increased her efforts as if she thought she was going to lose. I didn't think it was possible for her to go any faster or harder...but she did. She was in an absolute frenzy. She was going to cum or else.

At last she sat straight up my cock still in her and squirmed and undulated her hips to get the deepest and hardest penetration of my cock she could. And then it happened...It was a controlled scream...barely controlled. She raised her head looking toward the ceiling with closed eyes. Her hands went to the sides of her head and her fingers entangled themselves in her hair.

There are now words that I can set down here that will describe the depth and intensity of the sounds she made when she climaxed. Other than the fact she was riding my cock and having an orgasm, I would have said those sounds were from a crazy woman. Her body was rigid, he muscles of her abdomen straining, her thighs quivering with tension. Then she totally relaxed.

It was like one of those wind sock advertising display where a fan blowing air into it keeps it up; and when the fan is turned off, it collapses. That's what Karen looked like. She collapsed gently forward until she was lying against me, her breasts pressing into me. She was still quivering as if the waves of her orgasm were receding. Her breathing eased, She moved her hands until they were against my cheeks, caressing me. I couldn't tell if she passed out or dozed off, but I let her lie there as my cock softened and slipped out of her. She stirred when that happened but quickly went limp again.

When you love a woman the way I do Karen, you don't disturb her at a time like that. It is even worse, far worse, than getting up when your cat as fallen asleep on your lap. You love your kitten so you let it stay there until it is damn good and ready to get off. There are consequences if you don't, maybe not immediate consequences, but consequences nevertheless. The same principle applies when a post-orgasmic woman falls asleep on top of you....you just let her stay until she's damn ready to get up.

In this case, it took Karen about half an hour to regain her senses. When she opened her eyes, she seem startled at her position on my body. She rubbed her cheek against my chest, and squeezed my cheeks with her hands, cooing all the time.

"Drummond, my love...YOU were wonderful. It has been a long time since I came like that!"

"Karen! YOU were the one who did all the work. From where I sat...er...laid....you were spectacular...and believe me, I enjoyed the show!"

"Did you cum, Drummond" she murmured, "it's so wet down there I can't tell."

"It was wonderful for me too, my love, " I lied, without lying, "just watching you was more than I could have asked for."

"Hmmmm," she purred as she rolled off of me and on to her back, "HmmmmHmmm."

Off she went to dream land. I covered her with a sheet. I took myself into the shower and cleaned up. Her fancy chamomile beauty soap felt good on my cock...very good...very, very, very good. There are more ways than one to skin a cat; the same goes for penises and orgasms!

All scrubbed up, scrubbed down, and...well...scrubbed OFF, I headed back to bed with Karen. She had rolled over and was lying on her tummy, legs straight out, arms under her head, and snoozing away. Her body was a work of art: smooth, creamy skin... slim, toned legs and arms...and...the cutest, firmest butt you ever saw.

I sat with my back against the headboard leafing through a upscale living, home decorating, magazine. Lately, Karen did most of her browsing on her tablet, but she still did subscribe to some honest-to-goodness glossy magazines. Lo and behold! There was Karen and Kurt's mansion, the very one I was in at the moment--and watching the woman of the house, naked on her bed, snoozing after her recent orgasm. For some reason, the juxtaposition of those things amazed and amused me at the same time.

Karen stirred, rolled over on her side facing me, supporting herself with one arm against her head...a fashion model pose if ever I saw one. Her hair was mussed, her make-up absent, and her body delicious...from the tip of her head down to the tips of her toes. Her breasts had hardly a sag, though they weren't immune to gravity; her tummy was likewise firm and defied gravity; and that trimmed triangle of her red bush looked enticing beyond description. It was all I could do just to set there and look at her and not ravish her body.

The mood was interrupted when Karen said, "Drummond? Do you love me?"

I was taken aback at that question. And her tone of voice led me to conclude that it was not just an idle lover's question. Also, it was not the question itself that concerned me, but her timing in asking it. I thought, "Why NOW?"

"Well, of course I do, Karen!" I said with genuine affection, "yes, yes, YES! That goes without saying. Why do you ask me that now?"

Karen pursed her lips, crinkled her eyebrows and said, "Drummond, do you trust me?"

Now my mind started to race. Something was coming but I had no idea what. That "do you trust me" line generally does not bode well in a conversation about a loving relationship.

"Karen! Yes, yes, implicitly!" I said without hesitation.

Karen sat up, crossed her legs, and pondered her next words, eyes closed. Maybe it was just the guy in me...no, it was absolutely the guy in me...that made me gaze at her pussy that she exposed as she sat cross-legged in next to me. It made her pause more enjoyable, that's for sure.

"We've told each other all about ourselves, you and I, haven't we?" her words started to tumble out, "I mean, you haven't kept any secrets from me...you've told me about all of your girlfriends and your sexual adventures, and how you have so much fun with them...but you really love me and wouldn't do anything to hurt me and...and....that you got involved with Zeta...and that she was driving you nuts...and..and...we go that worked out the way we did...because I love you...and I knew you love me...and...and..."