Sleep Over

I could not get the events of my last dental check-up out of my head, and I did not want to. I replayed it that night while jerking off with the latex gloves the lovely Dr. Birkin let me have. Now I love masturbation just as much, if not more, than most people, but it was not the same as having someone else do it for me, as Dr. Birkin did. The following night, I decided to call her up, after 7:30 PM as per her instructions. She was happy to hear from me, but unfortunately she could not talk long because she was having a get-together with a few of her friends. She did invite me to come over on Saturday night (bear in mind that my check-up was on the Wednesday of that week, and the day I called was a Thursday). Dr. Birkin asked me not to masturbate for the rest of week. One can imagine my surprise at hearing that request. Masturbation was a daily habit for me and I could not imagine living a day without it. She then assured me that it would be worth it.

That Friday was the most agonizing day of my life. I could feel myself getting backed up. And that Saturday morning and afternoon weren’t much better, but they gave way to Saturday night.

I did not have trouble finding Dr. Birkin’s residence. It was in a posh neighborhood, at least to me it looked posh. The houses were oversized and the lawns were neatly trimmed. I felt out of place here, but I knew that feeling would dissipate when I entered Dr. Birkin’s house.

I rang the doorbell and Dr. Birkin immediately answered it.

“Hello there,” Dr. Birkin said, looking gorgeous as ever.

I looked her over and noticed she was wearing a black spandex unitard (or what first appeared to be a unitard but the telltale seam at the waist indicated it was a two-piece suit), which hugged her shapely body contours rather nicely.

“Do you like my outfit?” Dr. Birkin asked.

“I love it, Dr. Birkin,” I replied.

“You can just call me Erin,” she said. “We aren’t at the office.”

No, we were not (and from here on in, I would call her “Erin”).

Erin led me inside and immediately headed upstairs. I stood dumbfounded. I did not know whether she was fetching something from up there, or she wanted me to follow her.

“Are you coming?” Erin asked.

“Sure,” I said, clumsily rushing up the stairs.

Erin headed down the right side of the upstairs corridor. While I was following her, I eyed her spandex-clad ass. It was a lovely sight. I wondered how she would react if I slapped it. And like with Nicole in the hallway of Dr. Birkin’s office, I stayed my hand so to speak, fearing any possible negative reaction like the retallitory slap to the face.

Her bedroom was the last door on the right. She stood in the threshold of the open door and let me enter first. Like all women’s bedroom’s I have seen in real life, television shows, and films, Erin’s bedroom was decorated in an array of pinks, beiges, and lavenders. It eerily reminded me of my mother’s bedroom, but then I was not in my mother’s room and Erin was not my mother. Still, one cannot avoid the occasional Freudian slip, especially in this type of situtation.

“So were you a good boy?” Erin asked while entering the room.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you abstain like I asked?”

“I did.”

My throbbing penis and petulence could prove that, but she believed me nonetheless.

Erin smiled and said, “That’s good. Take off your clothes.”

It was the first time anyone had asked me to do that. I was self-conscious about my body because I was hardly fit. But then I wasn’t overly obese either. I had a stocky build, which kids often confuse for fat and I was subjected to that ignorance during my school years, hence my self-consciousness.

“Is something wrong?” Erin asked.

“Well, I don’t have the fittest body in the world,” I said.

“I’ve seen most of it already,” Erin said.

“But you haven’t seen me without a shirt.”

“That’s true, but you shouldn’t worry. You look fine to me. And besides, we’re the only ones here.”

Those words gave me enough confidence to start removing my clothes. My shoes and socks were easy enough. My shirt and pants were not as easy, but the most difficult enough, strange as it was, was my underwear. Yes, I was aware that Erin had seen my genitals, but it was one thing to have underwear removed by someone else as opposed to removing one’s own underwear willfully in front of someone. At least, that was how I felt about the matter.

And so, I stood there stark naked in front of Erin, anticipating her next move or request. She headed over to a night stand and picked up a rectangular box. Erin headed back toward me and I noticed that it was a box of latex gloves. She pulled out a pair, handed them to me, and then pulled out another pair for herself. She dropped the box and I watched as her right hand entered one of the gloves. When it was on her hand completely, she tugged on the cuff and then released it, making that sexy snapping sound. Erin then pulled the glove over her left hand slowly, as if she was teasing me. After what seemed like a minute, she snapped the other cuff.

I then hastily donned my latex gloves. My skin savored the soft feel of the latex as I pulled them over my hands. I snapped the cuffs just as she did.

I felt a latex-clad hand gently seize my balls and she began playing with them. She led me onto the bed and she began stroking my cock. Finally, after what seemed like an eon of masturbatorial abstinence, my libido was getting what it needed. And once again, Erin skillfully jerked my penis. Occasionally, she would slow the rhythm down, and then speed it up again. It was not long before my penis spewed out its white hot semen. But what was different this time was my load shot out and up pretty high, like Old Faithful. In all my years of self-gratification, that had never happened before. I considered the possibility that I was doing something wrong all that time. But I was too overcome with ecstasy to dwell on that thought.

I noticed some of the load was on Erin’s latex-gloved hand, quite a bit of it actually. The other portion of it was dotted along my waistline.

Panting and sweating, I said, “That’s was…amazing.”

Erin smiled, and then pulled off her spandex top, and then her bottoms. She thrust her clit at me. I knew what she wanted then, and I felt up to doing it. After all, as they say, do unto others.

I wriggled a couple of my latex-clad fingers into her pussy. She quivered with glee, which meant I was doing it right. Bear in mind, this is my first venture into the female cave. I shoved my other two gloved fingers into her, followed by my knuckles, palm, and thumb. I was up to my wrist now and Erin all the while was moaning with delight.

I moved my fingers around much as I could. I then formed a fist and I pulled and pushed it in and out of her. Finally, she gave a final sigh, which I interpreted as a climax. I pulled out my gloved hand, which was soaked in vaginal fluid. In unison, we peeled off our gloves and tossed them aside.

Erin lay on top of me and kissed me. I then asked her something I had not asked anyone in several years.

“Can I sleep over tonight?” I asked, feeling childish.

Erin smiled and replied, “I was hoping you would.”

THE END