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Amateur

And so we roll on finding out more and more about our stars, the uniform and how clothing can influence and enhance sexual activity.

Regular readers can probably skip the rest of this intro, newcomers need to read it and, preferably, some of the earlier parts. But then, hey, that’s up to you.

This is a story about doctors and nurses, and a few other people. It is a long story, a complicated story and a fucking horny story, even if I do say so myself. It was horny for me writing it and I hope it will be as horny for you reading it.

We are now well into the story. So a lot of water has flown under the bridge, along with lots of steamy scenes between the amazing set of characters.

In an ideal world, a new reader to this story would start at the beginning and read Part 1 first. We aren’t in a real world though are we? So, as the story jumps around from character to character and fuck to fuck, I thought a brief synopsis here might be helpful.

The story revolves around sex in many forms. The theme of it is how a doctor treats people who are, in one way or another, sexually dysfunctional, so on one level it is a medical story. All the characters in the story who are not his patients, however, are as equally sexually dysfunctional somehow, so on another level it is pure erotica. On yet another level the story looks at how clothing promotes, influences, affects and conditions sexual behaviour; there are lots of descriptions of sexy nurses uniforms and ladies panties.

The two main female characters are Sammi and Emma, the male lead is Mike. Sammi is a blonde, twenty five year old, beautiful nurse. Emma is in her early forties, she is awesomely good looking with dark, olive skin and absolutely gorgeous, full, heavily nippled breasts. She runs an agency that supplies nurses to hospitals throughout the Middle East and to upmarket clinics in the UK. Mike, a psychiatrist and one of the leading sexual therapists in the UK runs one of those clinics and he employed Sammi though Emma’s agency. That is how they go to know each other.

A main theme running through the stories is will they or won’t they? Will Mike shag Sammi, who he fantasises about as he has sex with his long-term partner? Will Emma seduce Mike, or Sammi, and will Sammi and Emma get it on?

At the same time, Ronni, Sammi’s flat mate, has a series of dogging, forced sex and other extreme adventures with her older actor lover and sleeps with Sammi. Claire, Mike’s live in lover, seduces his partner, as she has previously his brother and one of his financial backers, even wearing her barristers, black silks and wig, and nothing else apart from black hold-ups to do that. Sammi’s great friend Mel has a secret that is being revealed as she and her brother Gordy embark on the ultimate taboo. And Emma’s continuously more intriguing role with the Saudi Arabian Al Korensi, family is examined as she sleeps with both the father and his two sons and acts as their whore and the business fixer.

See what I mean about being complicated?

This part is includes two touchy topics, brother and sister incest and lesbian sex. All done very tastefully though!

Chapter 1

Gordon led his naked sister to the bedroom.

They were quiet and reserved, but highly aroused, yet scared and concerned. They knew, full well, that they were about to cross a boundary; they knew they had already crossed many and that there was just one more to overcome. And they were about to cross that, for Gordon was leading his siter into the bedroom to fuck her.

That Mel was naked, that they were holding hands, that they were going to the bedroom were all boundaries. That Gordon had held Mel in his arms, that they had kissed so deeply and passionately and that Gordon had become erect were all further boundaries; boundaries they had crossed. Just like the boundary of Gordon pressing his erection against his sister, of Mel squirming herself against her brother and of her womanly juices pouring out from her. They were all boundaries, barriers really. Barriers against what they were about to do. Yes, they were crossing the boundaries and smashing down the barriers about a brother and sister making love and having sex, for Gordon was about to fuck his sister Mel.

“God Gordon, I am so scared,” Mel groaned as they reached the bed and stood beside it.

“So am I.” Gordon reassured her. That made Mel feel better, as if it really made any difference; sex with your brother was incest whether you both felt good or bad about it.

“We can stop at any time,” he said considerately as he sat Mel down on the bed. “Any time you want, my darling,” he went on looking at her as, with shaking hands, he lifted his tee shirt up and over his head.

Mel looked at her brother’s tanned and sculpted, muscular and toned chest. He was almost hairless, but looked fabulous. He had a fantastic physique. He certainly was the one who had inherited their mother Charlotte’s good looks; her full lips, pert nose, big eyes, long eyelashes, jet-black hair and taught, but nicely rounded body. Unlike güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri Mel who was physically, very much her father’s daughter. He had been as thin as a rake all of his life and during none of it had anyone, other than the line of mistresses he had lavished money and gifts upon and the hookers he had paid thousands, sometimes in a single night to, called him handsome. It was the same with Mel. She was the sort of girl that her friends at college described as “she’s got nice hair” or “she’s very slim.” Not, as they said about her great friend Sammi, “She’s fucking gorgeous.”

For his twenty two years, Mel was three and a bit years younger, Gordon was very experienced sexually. Very experienced, but totally fucked up. He wasn’t sure whether he was gay, straight or bi, or whether he was the male equivalent of a nympho or someone that just couldn’t care less. He was used to girls offering themselves to him and to guys coming onto him. He took a little of both, and sometimes too much of one or the other. He wasn’t picky. To him, a hand was a hand, a mouth a mouth, their gender was irrelevant, all that mattered was the time and the opportunity.

He had been trained well, by both mum and dad, unbeknown to the other. Dad with his hookers, mum with her body. So, yes he was experienced and yes, he was fucked up, but hey, he would say, “Who isn’t one way or the other?

Both of them, deep down, recognised that they had relationship difficulties, that their closeness was unusual and that their intimacy could well, by society’s fucking ridiculous standards, lead them towards problems. They had known, with a sort of dread, for some time that they would go “too far,” that they would overstep the mark, cross the barrier and breach the taboo. Yes, both had known that it wouldn’t be long before they slept together, made love, had sex or, whatever it was called when a brother and a sister fucked.

Sitting naked on the edge of her bed, watching her brother Gordon unzipping himself, pushing his jeans and boxers down in one go and standing before her with absolutely no inhibitions at all rampantly naked, Mel knew that this was that time. As she saw him join her in free and beautiful, but to many in their situation, so sordid and immoral, nudity, her heart started to pound. Not just because of the intimacy of their situation, not just because of the anticipation of what was to come and not just because of the taboo they were addressing. It was also due to the sheer beauty of the man, her brother that stood before her.

“Oh God, Gordon,” she moaned reaching out and wrapping her arms round his hips.

His body was tanned all over, so different to her pasty pallor. It was smooth, muscular, lithe and looked so fit. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

Mel wasn’t that experienced, but had been with a few boys; Gordon, she thought to herself, would be her first man.

And as she cuddled his hips so she came in contact with his cock. It was unavoidable, inevitable and wonderful. It pressed against her cheeks, his balls dangling down and rubbing on her chin. It was all so natural and unplanned, but all so exciting for both of them.

Gordon wanted his sister so badly. It wasn’t because he was strongly attracted to her physically for, in truth, she didn’t have the sort of body he usually went for. He was an avowed “tits and ass” man. Mel’s friend, Sammi was more his type, although ideally he preferred bigger tits than her b cup little beauties. It was an emotional attachment, a mental attraction, a mind game, a brain draw, with Mel. It always had been for as long as he could remember, for as long as he had been sexually active, for as long as his mother had primed and readied him, for as long as she had created the circumstances where he wanted, no desperately needed, to fuck his sister.

Mel had similar feelings. Ever since puberty she had been attracted to Gordon, although being so young it had, to her just seemed like typical brotherly love. It wasn’t until she became a woman, had full womanly feelings and had been fucked as a woman that she realised just what her feelings were and how powerfully she had them for him. It wasn’t typical brotherly or sibling love, it was, full on, hard core, straightforward lust for him. The moment it dawned on her that she wanted him to fuck her, was a moment she would never forget; a moment of such significance in her life, a seminal moment, a once in a lifetime moment; a moment that would only be outstripped by the moment when indeed she and Gordon had sex.

And that moment had arrived.

Chapter 2

Emma was absolutely correct in terming Sammi as a typical, London club scene, lipstick.

Girls like her were a 21st century phenomenon. She was very much a woman, she had an active sex life with men, she dressed feminine, looked feminine in every way and indeed she was very feminine. But she also liked girls. She liked being with them, touching them and kissing them and being touched and kissed by them. She had no time for, and wasn’t güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri attracted to, butch, short haired, dungaree wearing, masculine lesbians. To her and the many other girls she knew and the thousands splattered around London she didn’t know, a little bit of bi action on the side was all part of a full and healthy sex life. It was all part of being a lipstick lesbian, a dolly dyke.

Her “dabbling”, as she thought of it, hadn’t started during her pubity. At school, and during that period of her life, it would no more have entered her mind to contemplate sex with a girl than it would to have fantasised about being the central character in a six guy and her gang bang, as she did now. All part of growing up, she now put it down to as she masturbated thinking of six guys filling her orifices and cumming all over her body.

It hadn’t really started until after she had lost her virginity, to a boy that was! Once that inconvenient social nicety was neatly out the way, Sam could get down to developing and enjoying her sex life. As in most things she was interested in, she was a quick learner and a bit obsessive. She had always thrown herself wholeheartedly into new hobbies, interests and sports. Sex was no different. So she had a period in her early twenties when she went for it. Went for it with guys mainly, but then, girls as well. That side of her sexuality has never played a particularly large part of her sex life, but it has played a meaningful and thoroughly enjoyable one. Sammi half believed that, initially at least, it was the adventure, the breaking with convention, the experimentation and the tasting the forbidden that was the prime attraction: as well as of course the softness of a girl’s skin and the feel of her tits in her hands.

Her first time had been with a German girl she had met on holiday in Ibiza. Sammi had gone with a group of friends for the club opening week in May as, so it seemed, had half the young people from all over Europe. San Antonio was packed to the rafters with thousands of 18 to 25 year olds intent on having a fantastic time. It really was party, party time with most people not hitting the streets until 10 or so for dinner, getting to the early clubs around midnight and the later ones around 2 or 3, often not finishing until they closed anywhere between 6 and 8 in the morning. The booze flowed like rivers, there were pills and poppers everywhere and the atmosphere was totally decadent and absolutely, anything goes. For a nineteen year old, sexually adventurous girl it was absolutely fabulos.

The nights were warm, even around 4.00 am and that, of course, encouraged the female youth of Europe to dress sparingly. Everywhere one looked there was flesh: long, bare legs, slim and not so slim, even chunky, thighs, backs of all shapes and sizes and of course fronts, chests, boobs, breasts and tits. Yes, the female youth of Europe in Ibiza that year, seemed intent on flashing as much of themselves as they could, without being naked, at the male youth of Europe.

The longer the nights lasted, the more of the female bodies were displayed. It was not unusual by around 4.00 am to see several girls dancing topless in a club, some mooning others dispensing with their micro-skirts and dancing in their thongs while occasionally there would be a full nude. Flashes of most of a breast or a girl’s panties were so common as to not even warrant a stare.

Looking back, Sammi often thought that her initiation into girl/girl sex was inevitable in such an atmosphere.

Birgitte wasn’t gorgeous, but she was intriguing. She didn’t have a great body, but by Christ did she know how to flaunt it. She wasn’t a classic beauty, but the combination of her slimness, her mop of black, curly hair, her perfect English with an alluring accent and her supreme self-confidence had made her hugely popular in the group of twenty or so girls they were now mixing with. The fact that she flashed her tits almost as easily as she would brush her hair from her eyes, a gesture that Sammi found unusually erotic, and that she fucked a different guy most nights, added considerably to her reputation and stature amongst their group. She became the de facto leader, well at least spiritually.

The two girls got on well, they found quite a few things in common and Sammi’s spattering of schoolgirl German helped enormously. As the ten-day holiday progressed they got on better and better, they spent more time together, they talked more, they sat next to each other at meals, laid next to each other round the pool and on the beach and, most nights they danced together quite a lot, as did most of the girls, the boy pulling started after the girls left the clubs and hit the bars. They became closer and closer, they became more intimate with each other, they touched a lot, put their arms through the others and put sun oil on each other by the pool. Late at night, in the clubs, as tops came off, as skirts were hitched up and as thongs, bums and boobs were flashed they flashed their bits at each other güvenilir bahis şirketleri and both liked what they saw. As the clubs closed, so everyone kissed, an Ibiza tradition.

Birgitte and Sammi were no exception. The first club on the first night, just a peck on the cheek, the second club that night they put their arms round each other and, as the third club was ending, they pressed their bodies together. That night, well early around 6 the next morning, when Sammi went to bed, for the first time in her life, she masturbated about a girl, Birgitte.

The next day they were a little quiet with each other. They were both feeling something. That night, their dancing was more “dirty”, their touching more obvious and lingering and their gazes at each other more sultry. And, of course, as the clubs closed so their kissing was more adventurous until at the third club it was an open mouthed, lips squirming, tongue probing kiss.

“I have never done that with a girl before,” Birgitte whispered as they stared at each other, still holding hands.

“Neither have I,” Sammi replied.

That night, Sammi didn’t need to masturbate about Birgitte. Birgitte did it for her.

They left the club together, arm in arm. They walked down the strip, still arm in arm, but then they turned off into a side street and they held hands. Their friends would be hitting the wild bars, but they went to a quiet place, by themselves. They sat close, they talked, not about what had happened and what was happening and not about sex; just chat. They didn’t make plans or suggest anything.

But as Birgitte’s room mate had pulled and Sammi’s hadn’t, it seemed just natural to go to the German girl’s room. There, they didn’t talk, well not much. Birgitte had some vodka, which they drank from the tooth glasses, there wasn’t a mini bar, they don’t do those in Ibiza.

The girls never drank much in the clubs and bars for fear of stuff being slipped into their drinks, so they were both completely sober. Looking back, Sammi always felt pleased about that: pleased that her first adventure outside hetero-sexual sex was not induced by outside influence.

They didn’t have full on lesbian sex. There was no sudden finding of a strong desire to give or receive oral sex. It’s often, no it’s usually, like that with girls who are experimenting, girls who are curious, girls who are exploring their sexuality, girls who are venturing into bi sex, girls who are, as Emma puts it, lipsticks or dolly dykes.

With them, it is more mutual masturbation than hard line sex. More touching and feeling, stroking and caressing than body grinding gyrations. It was finding out, trying things, more experimenting than anything else. Neither girl was experienced or knowledgeable; they didn’t really know what to do, what was expected and what the other, or themselves come to that, really wanted. Equally, they probably didn’t know what they shouldn’t do, but their natural womanly instincts and innate sexual intuition guided them

They didn’t kiss that much; that was more what you did with men, what you did with someone you were pretending to love, well for the moments you were being intensely intimate with them. It was too personal for girls who were branching out, women who were reaching out, females who were coming out. So, the kisses were more spontaneous than planned or really shared. They were tentative. They were pecks on the shoulder, little ones on the cheeks, soft and easy, but rather hesitant and quick ones that were almost stolen, rather than taken as the girl’s rights. As yet they had no sexual rights with each other, that was what tonight was mostly about; establishing those rights.

They sat on the bed next to other, there was only one chair, and sipped their vodka. They were quiet; they both knew they were going to do something. Something that their bodies demanded, but which their minds resisted. Deep down, though, both girls knew that their bodies would win. And win they did,

As the neat vodka slightly corrupted their minds and loosened their inhibitions so: they found themselves lying back on the bed, turning onto their sides, looking into each others eyes and touching each other.

“Let’s take our clothes off,” Birgitte whispered, her fingers finding the zip on Sammi’s ridiculously brief excuse for a skirt.

Without breaking their glances they rolled slightly away from each other. Their eyes locked, their fingers and hands busied themselves with buttons and zips, easing tops out of skirts and pulling and pushing clothes off. Without saying anything, they undressed completely. They stared at each other’s nakedness and, with the alcohol induced bravery, ran their fingers across the other’s body. Neither, though, really knew what to do. That didn’t matter for pleasure was the only thing they needed, not skill or expertise. And both were giving and getting exactly that.

They stroked each others body, cupped their breasts, squeezed that flesh and pinched and pulled the hardened, aching nipples. They took each other in their arms and squirmed their bodies against the other, pushed their breasts together and rubbed their flat tummies on the others. They tentatively touched stomachs, bums, cheeks, thighs and eventually pubic mounds. They kissed now and then, but more they concentrated on what they were doing with their hands and fingers.

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