The Cheatin' Side of Town

"Baby?" I whispered as I lay down next to her.

She didn't respond. One thing I had learned about Goldie over the years was that she liked to sleep.

"Do you want to wake up?"

"No," she mumbled. She kicked the sheet down further, and resumed her steady slow breathing.

I propped myself up on my elbow to look at her. Her blond hair was scattered across the pillow, a lock of it covering one eye. Her nipples, even in sleep, were dark pink, perky, and delicious-looking. The smooth skin of her abdomen trailed off into her valley. It called to me. I knew how I would wake her.

I moved to the foot of the bed and stared at her womanhood. Easing her thighs further apart, I traced a path with my tongue from the bottom of her sex to the top. On about the tenth pass, she began to stir. Her legs moved farther apart, and her breathing changed. I licked her more firmly, tasting the moisture she started to produce.

She stretched and mumbled, "What are you doing?"

"Licking you."

"Mmmm."

I kept eating her gently, savoring the pleasured sounds she was making.

She whispered, "Cock."

"Hmmm?" I replied between passes of my tongue.

"Cock. Want it. In my mouth."

I turned in bed, and she began suckling on my member as I lapped at her. This wasn't the frenzied blowjob I sometimes got from her, and her orgasms on my tongue were quiet and luxurious. When I came, she cleaned me thoroughly after she swallowed.

"That was a lot more fun than my alarm clock at home," she sighed when I moved to hold her again.

At Goldie's graduation, I stayed in the shadows. Brian surprised Goldie with an engagement ring after they got their diplomas.

The next night in the apartment, Goldie and I agreed that we had to stop doing this. I decided it was time to try to save my marriage, and Goldie resolved to be faithful to the man who gave her the diamond. On our last night together, she cried as she rode me.

**

Working on my marriage was a waste of time. I wasn't the only one in my house with lying eyes. After nearly twenty years together, my wife left me for a younger man, one she had been seeing for almost as long as I had been involved with Goldie. The divorce cost me a lot. I wound up living in the old building I was renovating, eventually finishing the other apartments but staying in the little unit that had been our illicit love-nest.

Building houses is hard work. Talk to any older construction worker. Look at his body. It may look toned, fit, and strong, but it will be scarred, too. My worst scars were from back surgery. I developed a pain in my leg that wouldn't go away the day after I turned fifty-five. It felt like a cramp in my calf muscle when it got bad, even though the muscle was relaxed. Walking helped, but it got to the point that it was a challenge to even sit through dinner.

When the pain got bad enough, I went to my doctor. He referred me to a surgeon who, after a zillion tests and pictures, justified cutting me open. After the excruciating surgical pain died away, and I completed physical therapy, I went back to work. Six months later, the pain returned. The surgeon opened me up again and removed more material from the herniated discs that were pressing on my sciatic nerve.

With two back surgeries and all the time I had missed from work, my business was in trouble. Grimly, I tried to re-build my little company. I had to pay a lot of sub-contractors to do work I normally would have done, which nearly bankrupted me.

When the pain started yet again, I went back to the surgeon. This time, he said my pain was caused by scar tissue from the other two procedures pressing against the nerve. More surgery to remove it wasn't an option, since new scar tissue would likely grow and cause the pain to return. The solution? An electronic neuro-stimulator implant. It's a device about the size of a pack of gum that is placed under the skin with a cable pushed through the fat layer over the muscles of the back and connected to a bundle of electrodes on the spinal cord. My surgeon called in a specialist to do the procedure, a Dr. Jessica O'Connor.

Dr. O'Connor was beautiful even without make-up and with her long brown hair in a bun. Her credentials indicated a woman of about forty, although you would never have thought that to look at her. She was all business when she bustled into the examining room.

"I'm Dr. O'Connor, Mr. Masterson. From consulting with your surgeon and studying your MRIs, I believe you are a perfect candidate for an implant. With proper programming, you should be virtually pain-free and able to return to normal activities, provided you do nothing to unduly strain your back. The insertion of the unit will be done under general anesthesia. When you recover, we will program it to give you maximum comfort."

It sounded good to me. I was tired of pain, and scared of living the rest of my life dependent on the painkillers that made me a zombie.

Before my discharge from the hospital, Dr. O'Connor worked with a laptop computer to program the micro-computer under my skin. Using a paddle that she rested on the scar over my implant, she was able to test and stimulate the electrodes, finding the right balance of micro-voltages to send to my spine to mask the agony of my pinched nerve. Then she sent the settings to a small remote that I wore in a holster on my belt. With that, I could make some changes to the signals, depending on my comfort level.

One evening, my phone rang. "This is Dr. O'Connor. How are you doing, Mr. Masterson?"

"Not too bad. I'm getting better with the remote control unit."

"If you're not busy, I could come over and work with you on it. Your address is on your chart."

I was a bit surprised to hear a doctor offer to make a house call, but any help I could get with my new toy might get me back to work sooner. "When do you want to come over?"

"Will half an hour be okay?"

Thirty minutes later, she knocked on my door. Her hair was down now, and her lab coat was gone. She wore a simple white blouse and a short charcoal pencil skirt, and she looked stunning. For the first time, I appreciated what a phenomenal figure she had.

She set up her laptop and had me loosen my pants and raise my shirt so she could put her electrode paddle on my skin. She ran a diagnostic on all the leads, and then began adjusting settings. As she worked, she talked. "Do you have any other health problems or concerns? Your chart really doesn't talk about much except your pain, and the fact that you're otherwise very healthy."

"Nope. Blood pressure is good. Heart is good. I'm healthy except for my back and all the trouble.... Wow, that's a weird sensation," I said when she changed a setting.

"What do you feel?"

"A warm tingling feeling on my shin. Oh, now, wait, you changed something. Now it almost feels like water dripping on my toes."

"Some people report all kinds of odd feelings, depending on what settings they run." Her nails clicked on her keyboard, and suddenly, I got a jolt of pleasure in my groin. It felt like a dozen tongues were all licking me at the same time, and I was instantly rock hard.

"Feel anything unusual?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Can you describe what you feel?" She was looking at my groin, a naughty smile playing on her mouth. "Maybe I should save that setting."

"Doctor, I'm sorry. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be. It's normal, Alex. So is this." She unbuttoned her blouse and removed it, exposing a large pair of breasts straining against a white lace bra. "I think you should call me Jessica now." She turned and walked into my bedroom. Of course, I followed. I had no idea what was going on, but I sure as hell wasn't questioning it.

Her hands freed my straining member from my clothing and began stroking it lightly. "I don't know whether you've had any trouble in this area," she said as she started to lick it, "but you won't now."

"Doctor, I mean, Jessica, what are you doing?" I gasped. This woman was damn good with her tongue.

"I can't leave you in this condition, can I?" she purred as she took me deep into her mouth.

I reached behind her to unclasp her bra, pulling it off her so I could knead her impressive breasts. Her nipples were hard, and getting harder under my fingers.

She unzipped her skirt, worked it off her hips, and stripped off the lacy white panties that matched her discarded bra. Going to my open closet, she pulled some spare pillows from a top shelf. An old shoebox fell to the floor and opened. Inside were things I had never had the heart to throw away -- Goldie's old rabbit vibe that I bought her for Christmas one year, a forgotten pair of her panties, and her college graduation announcement. Jessica glanced at the items for a moment in silence, then repacked the box and put it away.

She undressed me the rest of the way, propped me comfortably with pillows, and mounted me. My cock, harder than it had been in years, slid blissfully inside her wet, clean-shaven pussy. She rode me to a hard, pulsing orgasm, allowing me to fill her with my seed, and then turned, with me still erect inside her, to ride me once more, her hands on my ankles for support.

That's when I saw the tattoo of rosebuds and ivy, the one I had bought for Goldie on her twenty-first birthday.

"Oh my God," I said. "That tattoo!"

"I've never forgotten you, Alex," she murmured as she pumped her drooling sex up and down on my shaft. "I think I was falling in love with you when I was in college. When Brian gave me my ring, I thought I could put you out of my mind, but I failed. I've tried to change. I've been faithful to him all these years, but when I saw your name on your chart, all the old feelings came rushing back.

"You saw I kept a few mementos," I said. "I was very happy when we were together."

"So was I. When I realized you were my patient, I thought I could stay professional, but I was wrong."

She said nothing more, allowing both of us to savor the old sensations of our bodies joining. After her second orgasm, she turned to face me again, kissing me, giving me access to her magnificent breasts.

"I thought you looked familiar, but your hair and name convinced me I was wrong," I said as I pulled her down for a passionate kiss.

She straightened up to ride me again. "I let my hair go back to its natural color, started using my middle name instead of Goldie, got married, and became a surgeon. I use my married name now, since that's what's on my degrees. When I saw the name and address on your chart, I almost said something, but I didn't know what you would think.

"I think I'm glad you're back," I groaned, filling her again.

She left soon afterward with a promise to return often to check on me. As she walked to her car, mist was swirling through the wet, bare trees on my street. I heard a passing vehicle's radio playing that old Eagles' song.

"My, oh my, you sure know how to arrange things. You set it up so well, so carefully. Ain't it funny how your new life didn't change things? You're still the same old girl you used to be."