Seduction Story

'Doctor, doctor!' a clear voice rang out behind me just as I was attempting to leave the ward. I felt myself tense up: I was supposed to have left well over an hour ago, yet there was an endless stream of 'Just while you're here....' and 'Would you have a look at...' from the nurses and my day seemed to be stretching longer and longer. Finally I had managed to sort out every niggling problem, but just when it seemed all was clear and I could escape, I was being called back.

'What?' I snapped, and turned around, bristling. The nurse who had called me took a step back, surprised at the venom in my voice.

'What did you want?' I softened my tone, chastened by her consternation at upsetting me. It was Lisa; she was newly qualified, her nursing degree still bright and shiny and she had just started on the female medical ward. Full of energy and enthusiasm, it was hard not to notice her, but unfortunately her joie-de-vivre coincided with me going through the most miserable time I'd had in the last few years and her bounciness just irritated me.

'I saw the medical rota-I just wanted to say have a good weekend off,' she mumbled, clearly thinking that this was no longer a good idea.

And now I felt really guilty. She was a genuinely nice girl, and didn't deserve me snapping her head off.

'Thanks,' I smiled, 'I'm going to home to slob for the weekend.'

'I'm sorry I shouted.... it's just been a bad day,' I apologised.

'That's OK-the girls ask you to do everything because they know they'll be waiting ages for the on-call docs. You're too nice to say no,' she smiled back at me, then took off back to the nurses station, 'See you Monday!'

I live about 10 minutes drive from the hospital where I work; it's fairly central and handy for everything. It's a good-sized apartment I bought a while ago, and until recently I had shared it with my boyfriend Harry. We've been together 3 years, or rather; we were together 3 years before he took off with an empty headed bimbo with perky tits and a willingness to worship him. He took my long hours at work as a personal affront, believing that I should be at home looking after him, whilst all the time living off my income until his career as a photographer took off. The bimbo had been one of the models from his most recent contract, and it wasn't until our last incandescent argument that I found out she hadn't been the only one. So I threw him out, and I've been miserable ever since.

I miss him; not the moody silences, the vicious rows, the sulks that would last for days, the door slamming... OK, so I don't miss him, but I miss having someone around, having someone to cuddle. And I miss the sex.

I poured myself a large gin and tonic and waited for the takeaway pizza to arrive. Then I sat like a zombie in front of the TV, mindlessly channel hopping but I couldn't concentrate or settle. I knew what I needed, and he wasn't here.

I thought a hot bath might settle me, but by the time I was ready for bed, the alcohol singing in my head, my need was growing.

Lying in bed, my mind conjuring up images of him, I couldn't resist any longer. I reached down with my hands and started caressing my breasts, cupping them and rolling the nipples between my fingers. I'd put on weight since Harry had gone, eating for comfort and probably drinking a little too much than was good for me, but luckily most of it had settled on my breasts, now full and luscious, smooth and soft to touch. It felt good, my nipples were erect, straining, wanting his mouth on them sucking and biting.

I trailed my fingers down over my stomach to my pussy. My fingers probed gently and I found the warmth of my slit-it was already wet but that's what the thought of him did to me. Slowly I drew my fingers over my pussy lips, my middle finger dipping into my cunt to feel the juices gathering in there. My clit began to throb and I started to rub it gently, drawing back the hood that hid it, feeling it expand and tingle. It wasn't as good as his hand or tongue, but I felt the pressure begin to build. I parted my pussy lips with my other hand, and felt my clit and cunt stretch and tighten. I lightly flicked just the tip of my clit, and shivered in anticipation.

My cunt was crying out for attention, so I reached down and slowly pushed a finger inside, feeling the warmth and depth of my sex-one finger wasn't enough though. I was so used to his cock, my pussy stretched to fullness by him that I needed more than a finger to give me the same feeling. I pushed in another, the two fingers moving together-it still wasn't enough and I added a third.

It was good, but I wanted more-I couldn't thrust as deep as he did, and I remembered all those times when he had driven his cock into me, deep and hard, searching out the depth of my pussy, triggering sensations deep within the heart of me. I longed for him, imagining him on top of me, my body feeling the weight of his, my legs parting under the inexorable pressure of him, welcoming his invasion deep into my warmth.

I reached under the bed to the box where I kept my toys and found the dildos. Harry had loved to watch me play with myself. Sexually, he had me completely sussed. During the day, I was professional, having to take charge and to give orders; at home I wanted to give up that control to someone else. I wanted some one else to take charge, to make the decisions, to give me orders that I would obey. And one of the orders that Harry had always insisted on was that I show him and tell him what I wanted; he loved to watch me masturbate, to see how I pleasured myself and to tell him what I wanted to do to me.

When we had first met, I found it very difficult to tell him what I liked, but over time, I had become used to begging with him, pleading with him to do things to me that I had previously never articulated: I found this so incredibly erotic, and my mind now dwelt on all those acts his wishes and orders had driven me too, and which I wanted to do for him.

I choose a dildo, one of the large ones with a broad rigid head. I wanted to imagine that he was here with me watching me dildo myself. Stopping suddenly, I climbed off the bed to pull my full-length bedroom mirror over to the end of the bed so I could see myself. I positioned it at the foot of the bed where I got a view of my full pussy and ass-is that what you saw when you were fucking me? I thought to myself. The dildo was large but I was so needy and so wet that it slipped into me with ease. I pushed it in slowly, swallowing its 8 inches.

I switched it on and it started to vibrate deep in my pussy-I felt the head rotating pushing on my cunt walls, driving me crazy. With my left hand I kept the dildo in place; my right was working frantically at my clit. I rubbed at it, encircling it with my fingertips, flicking and pinching, trying to do what he had done that made me so horny. I felt my orgasm rising-but I didn't want to come, I was enjoying this too much. I stopped playing with my clit and brought my fingers to my mouth-I could smell my arousal, the sharp scent of my juices. I licked my fingers clean and pretended I was feeding my cum to him.

I reached for another dildo-this time the double headed one. I'd never used this by myself-it really took two to play with, but I wanted to pretend that I had his cock in my ass and a dildo in my pussy. I was still full with the vibrator, and I kept that in. I pushed a finger in besides it to moisten it-I needed lube for this but I was producing enough of my own. I reached further down and felt for my tight ass, guided by the sight of my hand in the mirror. Slowly I started to finger myself-it was so tight but I gradually forced in a finger, and gasped with pleasure. I've always loved this, as he well knew, and gradually I eased my ass open. My pelvis started to move, and I was ass fucking myself, pushing down on my finger, wanting more and more.

I raised my head and I could see what I was doing to myself in the mirror-I was so horny for him I imagined that he was here watching me and I was putting on a show for him. It was time for the dildo now, and I removed the vibrator from my cunt. My juices were dripping from it, and I ran my tongue around the bulbous tip, imagining that I was sucking him off.

I put the double-headed dildo into position, the head of each cock at both my holes. It was easier to force it into my ass first and I pushed past the resistance that was there until it was deep inside me. My pussy opened to accept the bigger head, and suddenly I was full, stretched and aching for release. I looked in the mirror and watched myself slowly moving the dildo in and out, gently at first but increasing in speed as my juices flowed. It felt so good-I could feel the roughness of the dildo rasping at my holes, stimulating the skin there. I wanted him there with me, pounding the dildo into me fast and hard and deep. I closed my eyes and imagined him fucking me with it, fucking me until I were raw, until I couldn't take any more and I was begging him to stop. I needed to frig my clit: I needed to come.

I rolled over, raising my ass, the dildo still in position stretching my holes. I reached down with my hand, and felt for my clit-it was erect and hard, wanting to be touched. I didn't want to be gentle with it-I needed to come quickly. I was panting now, my breathing ragged and loud, I knew I was on the edge of orgasm. I pinched and rubbed at my clit, and then felt my orgasm sweep over me.

At the very moment of orgasm, my imagination began to play tricks on me, and Harry's face wavered and dissolved; the face of Lisa appeared, sweet and smiling, her tongue playfully peeking out from between her slightly parted lips. But I couldn't stop it; I was too far over the edge and, watched by Lisa, I came violently, my breathing ragged and my heart pounding.

Slowly, I came down again. My legs were trembling and I couldn't stay on hands and knees for long. I eased the dildo out and as I did I could feel wetness running over my thighs. I reached down and felt my ass-my hole was still dilated, and I soothed the aching muscles with a finger.

My last conscious thought was of Lisa; would she have wanted to see me like that for real?

Next morning I woke early, having slept better than I had for weeks. There was a dull ache in my thighs, and my bottom was a little sore, but otherwise I felt happier than I had for a while. I stretched luxuriously; the whole weekend was ahead of me. Then I remembered last night, and what had happened in that moment of orgasm. I was confused; I wasn't a lesbian, I wanted Harry, so why had I thought of Lisa?

I rationalised my thoughts-she had been the last person I'd spoken to at work, so she was at the forefront of my mind, and fantasising about women didn't make you a lesbian, did it? My Nancy Friday books were all about women fantasising about women. It meant nothing, I decided, and rolled out of bed for a shower.

I decided that a good plan for the day included retail therapy. This November morning was clear, but cold and I wrapped up warmly, pulling on gloves and boots. I had a successful shopping trip-new shoes and handbags-but the cold was beginning to bite. I was thinking about heading back to the car when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Lisa, smiling widely.

'Hi!' she grinned at me, looking at the carrier bags in my hands, 'Good shop?'

Even after a late shift the night before she was still perky and cheerful, but this no longer irritated me. Instead I felt myself flush as I remembered what I had been doing when last I had seen, or rather, imagined her face.

'Fancy a coffee, doc?' she raised an eyebrow at me.

'I'd kill for one! I could do with a sit-down,' I accepted, and she suggested the Starbucks across the road.

She got me to save a table while she collected the coffee, and I relaxed, shrugging off my thick coat and gloves. I looked over at her at the counter: she was dressed in low slung jeans, exposing a flat, lightly tanned belly, and a skimpy jacket, her hands bare. Her short dark hair had been teased into spikes, and her face was free of make-up, making her look younger than she was. I was only a few years older than her, but felt like a granny in my gloves and scarf.

'Are you not freezing?' I asked, looking at her hands.

In reply, she touched my cheek with the back of her fingers, her touch lingering a little. Her fingers were warm and dry, and I had a sudden urge to press my cheek against her hand.

'No,' she laughed, 'I have good circulation!'

I couldn't speak: my mouth had gone dry and I could feel the imprint of her touch seared into my skin. What on earth was happening to me?

She pushed a large café latte over towards me, and looked down at her own drink, licking her lips. She'd gone for hot chocolate, piled with fluffy marshmallows and whipped cream.

I swallowed a mouthful of milky coffee and calmed down a little.

'So what do you do at the weekend, doc?' she asked, dunking a marshmallow into the frothy cream.

'Don't call me doc! It makes me sound old. I'm Chris...or Christina. But only my grandmother calls me Christina,' I smiled, enjoying her antics with the mallows.

She noticed me watching her, and picked a pink mallow out, holding it delicately between her finger and thumb.

'Try it,' she said, holding the half-melted sweet against my lips.

Slowly she pressed it into my mouth, and my lips closed around it, just brushing against her fingers. The creamy sweetness burst onto my tongue. She looked at me, her eyes fixed on mine as I sucked the sweet, a faint smile playing around her lips. Still looking into my eyes, she brought her fingers to her own lips and licked them clean, an act so deliberately and blatantly erotic that I felt my stomach swoop as though we were in an aeroplane hitting turbulence. Did she have any idea of the effect she was having on me?

She didn't seem to notice though and carried on chatting, telling me about local pubs and recent gigs she'd been to.

We got on well; maybe the attraction I felt was simply recognising that I was making a new friend, a rare event in these days of moving jobs frequently. I hoped so; the alternative was difficult for me to contemplate.

We parted with a promise to see other the following Monday; I was due to start a week of nights, but Lisa said she would meet me in the canteen for coffee at the end of my shift, and the start of hers.

We spent a week like that; a cheerful half hour that I began to look forward to throughout the long hours on call. On the Friday, I made the mistake of wearing a pair of my new shoes to work; by the end of the night I could hardly walk, and it was with difficulty that I hobbled to the canteen, my arches arching and my calves sore.

Lisa sat there at our usual table, and I was surprised to see her out of uniform.

I'm not on today, ' she explained, 'but I didn't want to miss our coffee date.'

The significance of the word wasn't lost on me, and I was confused again. Did she know? Before I could say anything, she commented on my pathetic hobble, and clucked sympathetically.

'Tell you what,' she said, 'How about I give you a foot rub? I've been studying reflexology-you look like you could do with it.'

I didn't know what to say; I was too tired to think so I gave her my address, and she went back to the nurses home to collect her oils and followed me back to my apartment.

She left me to take a shower, and I luxuriated in the hot water for a long time; sweet smelling, my skin tingling, I padded back to the bedroom where she was setting up warm towels and checking her massage oils. I was dressed for bed in a pair of pyjama bottoms and one of Harry's old tee shirts. Frowning at me, she told me I would have to take the jammies off as part of the treatment was a calf massage. Reassuring myself that the tee shirt was long enough, I pulled them down.

She asked me to lie down on top of the bed, covering me with a light blanket she had found. She'd put some music on in the living room and the gentle sound drifted though into the bedroom. The room was warm and I was drifting off in a haze. I closed my eyes and she settled herself at the foot of the bed. Her capable hands started to massage my feet, insinuating her delicate fingers between my toes, loosening the joints. It was bliss, and I almost groaned in pleasure. I don't know how long it went on, but I was now hovering in that delicious golden dream world half way between sleep and waking.

Occasionally her hands drifted up towards my lower legs where she massaged my calves. My legs and her hands were covered in slick sweet smelling oil and she was giving me the most sensuous massage: I was getting aroused but I was so relaxed there was nothing I could do about it.

I sighed with happiness, and my body felt heavy, my mind drowsy. Her hands begin to travel further up my legs with each long rub. She removed the blanket, but I didn't seem to care, and unconsciously I spread my legs slightly to allow her hands to traverse slowly up my thighs.

Lisa's hands were moving purposefully up my legs and she began to caress my inner thighs. Then she moved back to my feet, and I felt her mouth close around each of my toes in turn, sucking on them lightly. The feeling was so intense I could feel desire rising in me; I suddenly needed more than this gentle stroking but couldn't articulate it. She sensed my change of mood, and as her hands slid again up my legs, her fingertips brushed lightly against my pussy.

I felt some movement at the bottom of the bed, and she nudged up the tee shirt, exposing me. I felt her warm breath caress my pussy and suddenly there was a soft little stroke up the length of my slit. At first I couldn't tell if it was a finger or her tongue, but then there was no mistaking her hot wet tongue as she lapped at me gently. Using only the tip of her tongue, she probed between my labia, finding my clit, and with one little flick of her tongue she set me trembling.

I wanted to spread my thighs wide for her, but she was taking things slowly, agonisingly so, and after that first touch, she moved down to kiss at my inner thighs, leaving a slightly wet zigzag trail up and down my thighs while she stroked lightly at my pussy with her fingers. I could feel her fingers lightly spread my fleshy pink outer labia, exposing the delicate inner lips and her mouth returned to me to suck gently at them. I could feel my juices coming, and she licked delicately at the entrance to my sex, washing them away.

Her tongue moved back to my clit, and she started to flick slowly at it, rolling her tongue around, teasing back the hood that covered it.

I felt her fingers on me then. She began to probe my hot tunnel while she continued sucking on my clit. One long finger slid inside me, just a little at first, pushing against my muscular walls, then she withdrew, smoothing her finger wet with juices over my swollen tender labia. I wanted to press her face into me, to ride her tongue and hand, but she sensed this and slowed down a little. She stopped working on my clit, and started to lick up and down my slit, her tongue sliding across my lips, occasionally probing into my pussy.

She began to push it into me more forcefully, probing deep and withdrawing, using her tongue to fuck me slowly. Then I felt the warm fullness of her talented tongue slide over me again, moving down over my perineum to my tight amber ring, and back up to flick over my erect and throbbing clit. She knew every spot to kiss, lick and touch to make me cry out in pleasure.

Fingers were being pushed into me again, and I wanted to raise my hips to meet their thrusts. I was being rapidly finger fucked, and I could feel her knuckles pounding against the entrance to my pussy. I was so wet now that the sound of her working on me almost drowned out the soft strains of music. My breathing was becoming rapid and my orgasm began to peak. I exploded against her hand and tongue, squirming and whimpering in pleasure, and she continued to pump her fingers into me as my muscles tensed and my back arched with excitement.