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Playing Dressup

My parents have a library. I was a very lucky girl growing up, not because of the collection of classics that they had in leather bound editions, or even the enormous number of new books that they seemed to add constantly from visits to the book store or from various book clubs that they belonged to. I liked a lot of those, but my favorite books in their collection weren't actually on the shelves in the spare room that we used as a library, they were in dusty boxes stacked in the garage and basement. Some of the paperback novels they had dated back to my parent's childhood, and some even to my grandparent's. There was science fiction, mystery, and my favorite ones when I was a teenager, nurse novels.

There was also a smattering of erotica, of course. I don't know who's books those were, but they were all dog eared and worn. The nurse novels were in very good shape. I think only one person in the family read those. I never asked who it was because I didn't want to embarrass anyone, myself mostly. I didn't want my folks to know that I was reading the same trash they'd read growing up.

The nurse novels were fun. They were all about romance and medicine, two things that interested me very much. The nurses on the covers were all sexy, in white uniform's, dresses and hats. Even then I knew that nurses no longer dressed like that, but that wasn't important. The important thing was that many of the heroines of the books married doctors.

I became a nurse in part, at least, because of the interest in the profession I developed from reading those books. It was my dream to become a nurse, help people, and marry a handsome, wealthy doctor. Most of the handsome, wealthy single doctors have evidently found jobs somewhere besides the hospital where I work. Not that they're all ugly, of course, but most of them are married. They're willing to have quick emotionless sex, but are not available to make me their bride.

I know that you can still buy the old white dress uniform. I've seen ads for them, but they aren't worn in my hospital, or any hospital I've been in. Maybe some nurses who work in doctor's offices still use them, but they are mostly a thing of the past. That's why I was able to wear one to the costume party where I first met my boyfriend.

Not a real one, of course. I didn't want to go to the expense of buying an actual white dress when I could spend a little more and have a sexy white nurses costume that showed most of my legs and allowed me to offer a glimpse of cleavage. The cleavage was enhanced by a push up bra, of course, but the legs were real, as was the sexy lace garter belt and real silk stocking with seams down the back. The hat came with the dress. I didn't consider the hat really important, except for verisimilitude, but the hose mattered. The nurses in the books I read as a girl had to straighten their seams, and so did I.

I felt really sexy when I wore it. I needed a pair of shoes to go with it, naturally, and spent hours looking for just the right pair. I almost bought a pair of Nurse Betty's with the red cross and five inch heels, but the heels were too chunky for the effect I wanted. Finally I ran out of time and settled for a pair of white t-strap sandals with five inch heels that brought a lot of curve to my calves. They also had the advantage of being very light and not making my feet look big.

I also had a nursing bag. It was white and had a red cross on it, and would have gone very well with the Nurse Betty's. It allowed me to do without my purse. I packed a couple of pens, a strip of condoms and a pair of panties, white and lacy just like the pair I had on. I put in a tube of lipstick, mascara, some blush, and some tasty lip gloss which I hoped to have kissed off repeatedly. I also put in my trifold floral wallet, which goes very well with my real nursing uniform and fits very well into the pocket. It held my driver's license, my two credit cards, my debit card, my hospital ID, and my library card. I tucked two twenty dollar bills in behind the flap and a couple of packs of gum.
I went to the party with a couple of girl friends, but none of us expected to be leaving together. There were too many guys there that we knew, and all three of us expected to leave with one of them. I didn't expect to leave with more than one of them anyway, and I wasn't good enough friends with any of the couples to leave with them. If I wasn't lucky enough to find a suitable partner, and Lauren needed to leave in her car before I was ready to give up, I'd have enough money for cab fare home. I definitely didn't want to try catching a bus after midnight dressed in a nurses uniform that barely covered my lacy panties.

I had mingled, danced with at least twenty different people, kissed a lot of them, and been felt up by a few, turned down several invitations to go upstairs and fuck, mostly by married men, and was looking around for Karen and Lauren when I noticed him. I don't know how long he'd been there, but he looked like he had decided to become an permanent fixture by the bar. He was dressed in a white uniform of some kind with a baseball cap. I decided to go for a drink.

“What'll you have?” He asked.

“Cranberry juice and vodka,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Jouett Meekin,” he said. “Pitcher for the 1899 Boston Beaneaters.”


“Jouett Meekin,” he said again.

“1999 Beaneaters? Is that some kind of eating club?”

“No,” he said. “It's a baseball club. We play in the National league, but it's 1899, not 1999.”

“Oh,” I said. “Your costume you mean. I'm a nurse.” I spun around to let him get a good look at me.

“A very beautiful nurse,” he said.

“So, your name is Jouett?”

“No. My character's name is Jouett Meekin. Pitcher. 153 wins, 133 losses. Not a great career, but the uniform was on sale.” He handed me my drink. I tasted it. It was perfect. I thought that was probably a good sign.

“Mine too,” I said. “But the shoes were overpriced.”

“Worth every dime though,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “Is your uniform authentic?”

“The wool blend is a lot lighter than the actual team would have worn, but it's authentic as to design. But I just chose Meekin at random. I didn't wear cleats though, didn't want to mark up the floor.”

“My shoes aren't authentic either,” I said.

“Most of the nurses I know don't wear that particular uniform,” he said. “But I have to say, you wear it very well.”

I sipped my drink.
“Do you know a lot of nurses?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“I'm looking for a doctor,” I said.

“Not a baseball player then?”

“I mean in real life,” I said. I didn't want to tell him my life story. We'd just met after all. I just wanted hot sex and a ride home.

“Are you here with someone?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Sort of.”

“Me too,” I said. “Who are you with?”

“See the girl in the French maid costume dancing with the rodeo clown?”

“The one with the long blond hair?”

“That's her.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” I asked. I didn't think he'd dump her to take me home. She was gorgeous. I am a decent eight I think, maybe a nine on a really good night, but this girl was an eleven or twelve.

“No,” he said. “She's my graduate assistant.”

“Really? So you're what? A professor?”

He waved at the girl when she glanced our way. She waved back. Her costume was much sexier than mine. I felt jealous.

“Physics,” he said.

“Oh.” There wasn't much I could say to that. I have a vague idea what physics is, but it wasn't something I could discuss over drinks with anybody. Still, I wasn't looking for a long term relationship, I just didn't want to be the only one of us to go home alone. She left the guy she was dancing with and walked toward us. Her breasts were perfect melons. I would have traded breasts with her in a minute. My legs were as good as hers, at least, and I think my ass would give hers a run for the money, but I knew in my heart that I was not going to be real competition.

“Hi Doctor Bennett,” she said.

“I thought your name was Meekin,” I said.

“What?” she asked. She looked as if she'd made a mistake, shown him up for a liar by saying his real name.

“It's his character,” I said. “I'm Annie.” I shook her hand. It was soft and small. My hand felt mannish and rough in comparison.

“I'm Deanna,” she said. Of course she was. She looked like a Deanna. Tall and big bosomed with perfect legs and a great ass. I felt like I'd come as a bag lady instead of a sexy nurse.

I forced a smile. We made idle chit chat for several minutes. She was his research assistant and I couldn't understand a word of what kind of thing they were researching. I assumed that he was doing a lot of research in her pants.

“Do you think you can find your way home, Deanna?” He asked.

“Sure,” she said. She smiled too, big and beautiful, with pearl white teeth and bee stung lips. “I think Tommie will take me home.”

“Okay,” he said. He gave her a peck on the cheek. “I'm going to go on home. If you have any problem, though, you can call me and I'll come rescue you.”

“See you,” she said, and I was standing alone with Dr. Bennett.

“You're leaving?” I asked. “Why?”

“I'd like to get to bed early,” I said.

“So would I,” I told him. What can I call you. If he said Dr. Bennett I was going to call a cab.

He smiled. “You can call me Wilbur.”

“Your name is Wilbur?” He didn't look like a Wilbur.

“No, but you can call me that.”

“What's your real name?”

“J. T,” he said.

“J. T. What's that short for?”

“Nothing. It's my name. J. T. Bennett.”

“Okay. You don't have to tell me if your don't want too.”

“That's it. My parents named me J. T.”

“Could I just call you J. T.”
“Most people do,” he said. “I like it better than Wilbur.”

“So,” I said. “Maybe I'll see you around.”

“Or,” he said. “You could come with me.”

“Could I?” I asked. “What would Deanna think?”

“Deanna will probably have Tommie take her home and not think about either of us the rest of the weekend,” he said.

“Where would we go?” I asked. “If I come with you?”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“My apartment is free of other people,” I said. “And I have some beer. Do you like beer?”

“I do like beer,” he said.

Half an hour later we were in my apartment, cold bottles of beer in our hands, our feet propped up on the coffee table, getting better acquainted. I was glad to have him there. I had liked him immediately, and had known that I wanted to fuck him from the moment I saw him, but it's good to get to know each other a little before hitting the sheets.

“So,” I said. Waiving my hand from side to side, knowing that he'd know what I meant. “Are you and Deanna ….?


“Yeah. Are you?”

“No. She's my grad assistant, and I am eagerly awaiting the tenure decision, so she is safe from my advances for the time being.”

“She's beautiful,” I said.

“Yes. She is. You're beautiful too.”

“I feel like a boy beside her,” I said.

“You certainly don't look like a boy,” he said.

“Why were you at the party with her?”

“I was with a group of my grad students. They invited me to go along. She was the only one I was worried about getting home safely. Tommie is safe enough for her.”

“I don't think any guy would be safe for her,” I said. “If I had a dick I'd be on her in a minute. Is she smart too?”
“Very,” he said. “She's probably the brightest of my students.”

“I hate her,” I said.

He laughed. “She is working on her social skills. Coming along very well too.”

“Want me to help you get your shoes off?” I asked.

“I can just shove them off,” he said. I'd already taken mine off. I had been half a foot shorter than him with them on and hadn't kicked them off until we sat down. I felt tiny beside him. Deanna had been taller than me in shorter heels. It pained me that her hair was probably natural. She probably didn't even have to brush it. It just fell into place in the morning when she shook her head.

“Are you wearing a jock strap?” I asked.

“No. Why?”

“For historical accuracy,” I said.

“I'm not sure they wore jock straps back then,” he said.

“So what kind of underwear do you have on?”

“Jockeys,” he said. “How about you?”

“Lace,” I said. I flipped my skirt up and showed him.

“I hope the nurses dress like you when I'm finally committed,” he said. He leaned over and gave me a peck on the lips, then sat his bottle down on the table. I sat mine down too. I had the feeling that we were about to get busy.

His lips touched mine again, and I caught his bottom lip between my teeth and held it a moment. His arms reached around me, pulling me closer to him. I felt him shift his weight and pull me onto his lap as easily as he might have lifted a doll. My lace panties got suddenly very wet.

He opened my dress down the front, pushing it back off my shoulders. When it was down far enogh he unhooked my bra, pushed it up out of the way and kissed my breasts. My nipples were hard against his lips as he nibbled me. I moaned with pleasure as his hand touched my thigh.

“I love silk hose,” he said.

“You can tell it's silk?” I asked. I was impressed.

“Nothing feels like silk,” he said. He managed the clasps of my garter belt very easily, and rolled my stockings down one at a time, very slowly and carefully. He lay each of them on the coffee table and put his hands on my inner thighs, touching me lightly, then moved his hands around lifting me and taking the cheeks of my ass in his hands, giving me a gentle squeeze.

He touched the waist band of my panties, then felt the moist lace between my legs.
“Tear them off,” I said.

He kissed my neck.

“Tear my panties off and fuck me,” I said.

His hand glided gently down my thighs. His lips sucked gently at my throat, down to my breasts. My breath came in gasps and I felt my body shiver as his hand moved back between my legs.

He ripped my panties off in one fluid movement, tossed them aside and rolled me onto my back on the sofa. He freed his cock from his pants and rubbed it against my pussy, letting me feel the length of his shaft first and then the tip, velvety and soft, touching my lips, moving against my clitoris. I wanted him inside me. Wanted him to drive himself in me hard and furiously.

He removed his shirt. Under it he wore a long sleeved tee shirt. He pulled that off as well and tossed it aside. I remembered to ask him to wear a condom. I reached for my nurses bag and pulled out the entire strip, handing them to him. He tore one open then pushed his pants down and kicked them off his feet. I touched his cock, hard and throbbing against my palm, caressed the head.

“Let me,” I said. I took the condom from him and rolled it over the head of his cock and down the shaft. Yearning to have him inside me. He opened me with his fingers, touched the warm bud of my clitoris, moved his fingers over me as if he had been born with the knowledge of how to please me. I wanted him.

“Fuck me,” I said.

He flipped me over, lifted me to my hands and knees. I felt the tip of his dick touch the lips of my pussy, opening me, entering me. I moaned.

“Yes,” I said.

He pulled me back toward him, filling me with his deliciously wonderful manhood. I felt him withdraw and then plunge back inside me as I bucked myself back to meet him. I squeezed myself around him, holding him tightly as he moved in and out, meeting his thrust. I moaned in wonder, and begged for more.

“Fuck me,” I said. “Fuck me hard.”

He fucked me harder, deeper, better than I'd ever been fucked before. I exploded in ecstasy, again, and then again. I panted and howled, felt like the first woman being taken by the first man. Finally I had to collapse out of sheer exhaustion. He pulled himself from me and kissed me, first on the neck, then the shoulders, then down my back. His tongue darted along my skin, here and there, his lips kissing, his tongue dancing. I sighed in contentment.

He licked my juices from my soaking wet pussy and tasted me inside and out. I knew that I was his. I was his forever, anytime and anywhere he wanted me. He rolled me onto my back, helped me sit up, turning on the sofa and putting me onto his stiff dick. I hugged him and slid down the length of him, feeling so full and so happy that I wanted to freeze there, be just like that forever. My wetness dripped onto his legs, onto the sofa.

“God,” I said. “God.”

“You are amazing,” he said.

“You are,” I said. I meant it. He was amazing. I rocked back a little, enjoying the way his hardness felt inside me. Squeezing him.

He kissed me. I moved and he moved with me. I came again, better than before. Better than ever before.

I moved myself up and down on him, wanting him to come, to feel him come while he was still in me. He squeezed my ass, holding me to him, lifting me up, letting me feel him. I knew when he was coming, felt his dick spurt, wished that I could have his hot juice inside me to drip out. He lifted me off him, withdrew from me, removed and tied off the rubber. Some of his come was still on his dick, and I licked it. I put my mouth on him, kissed him up his chest, on his lips.

“I have to tell my friends about this,” I said.

“Not yet though,” he said.

“No, not yet," I agreed. "I'll wait until you're out of town."

"Can I tell my friends too?"

"Of course not," I said.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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