The Doctor Diaries Ch. 07

Dr James Martin is your everyday dedicated general practitioner ... the family doctor who has devoted a 25 year career to getting people better when they are sick. The only problem is that in the past two years, the good doctor has become very free with his hands and cock when treating his female patients. The Medical Tribunal wants to disbar him from practice, but the doctor's attorney has defended him brilliantly.

You really should read Parts 1 to 6 to understand just what the doctor has done with his patients and how lawyer Beverley Bradley got his career back for him. But if you don't have time, at least catch up on Part 6, which was one of the best.

Warning: This story includes some hot descriptions of people having mostly good sex ... if that could offend you, better not read on. While we have selected to place this in Loving Wives, it could also have been in group sex, first time, mature and non-consent, because it covers all those subjects.

Chapter 24

A large group of 8 happy people walked from the Medical Tribunal hearing room and gathered together on the footpath outside the building.

I happened to be the happiest person in the group. The very expensive and very beautiful 30-something Beverley Bradley, my attorney, had just saved the rest of my medical career, a service for which I was about to write her a cheque for $14,000+.

My loyal and devoted wife had been by my side through the ordeal of having the patient Angela claim that I had inappropriately dealt with her during her medical consultations about a year ago. My wife clung to my arm now while we all enjoyed the euphoria of a courtroom victory.

Besides my wife and I, there was my heroine, Beverley and her personal assistant, Michelle – an equally beautiful young woman who looked like a clone of Beverley's, only ten years younger. Then there was Geoffrey, who could best be described as a young stud, only around 25, six-pack belly, biceps on biceps on his arms. He too was part of Beverley's legal entourage, for which I was paying what I believe was a small fortune. I am not sure what he did, other than being a male bookend with Michelle to their boss.

Extraordinarily, I had some followers too, the best of my very loyal patients who had come to offer character evidence on my behalf. The irony was that three of them – Victoria, Natalie and Alicia – were in the same category as Angela, my accuser, in that each had been sexually involved with me as patients.

I stood there on the pavement feeling quite surreal, with my wife's arm tucked in mine, looking at Victoria, Natalie and Alicia, three patients that I had fucked, plus my attorney Beverley, who I had been intimate with and who I desperately wanted to fuck. My wife did know about Natalie, she was the one who had urged me to provide my semen – the natural way – to the young woman to give her the baby that she and her husband craved. But my wife had no idea about the others, particularly Alicia, my buddy – the gynaecologist's – wife who had fornicated with me in both our houses with one or both partners in another room.

So what now? Was it a fond goodbye to Beverley and her entourage? "No," insisted Beverley, "we must go off and celebrate. There's a bar near my office, they give me a private room whenever I have a winning case to celebrate. We'll all go there, come on!"

And with that, this odd group of eight people walked off down the street to adjourn to the bar and celebrate my victory. To celebrate my ability to return to my medical practice tomorrow and probably resume feeling up some of the lovely 20 and 30-something women who come to me for treatment and guidance.

We drank and celebrated for an hour until 5pm. By that time, Victoria, Natalie and Alicia all excused themselves, saying they needed to go home to their husbands. Each woman had realised that with my wife present, any intimate moment would not be possible this day. But it seemed that Beverley wasn't daunted by my wife being present. She managed to bail me up as I returned from the men's room and, out of earshot of my wife, whispered, "You and I are not done before we go our separate ways, doctor. You have fingered me and I have given you my best blow job, but I have to have it all."

"Well, I am not sure when we can do that, Beverley. With my wife along here, we may have to schedule for one day next week."

"No, I need to close your file, having won your case, so it has to be what's left of today. Leave it to me."

"I don't think that's going to work," I tried to say, but she was gone, scurrying off into the ladies room.

I returned to the now smaller group, the pair of twenty-something's, Michelle and Geoffrey were chatting to my wife and I sat down alongside my lifetime partner. Beverley shortly reappeared and announced, "Come on, we're all going back to my house. I'm going to call ahead and have my housekeeper prepare a scrumptious dinner for us all."

"Oh Beverley, that's so nice of you, but I don't think we can," said my wife, looking to me to support her. She was possibly feeling a bit out-glamorised by the thirty-ish Beverley, who was dressed and coiffeured immaculately, even this late in the day.

Beverley didn't allow me time to break in and support my wife's wish to leave. "Oh don't be a party pooper, Mrs. Martin. It's not every day that your husband has a win over some nutter that wants to ruin his career. Come on, we'll all go back to my house."

My wife's protest died at that moment and, within a few minutes, we were in a limo that Beverley had hired at what seemed to be a moment's notice, heading for her stately home in the 'burbs.

The house was incredible. The property looked to be an acre or so and the house was indeed a mansion, two storeys set back from the road. We made ourselves comfortable on the back porch, all with another drink in our hands while Beverley went away to the kitchen to discuss the dinner menu with her housekeeper.

When she returned, Beverley engaged me in conversation and I noted that my wife was now quite engrossed in a discussion with the pa Michelle and the young stud Geoffrey. The whole pre-dinner drinks thing was very convivial and the atmosphere fabulous, with the late afternoon sun casting shadows from the trees across the gardens and porch where we sat.

At dinner, Beverley positioned me on her immediate left, with Michelle to my left, sitting opposite my wife while Geoffrey was to the left of my wife and opposite me. I needed to keep looking across, checking to see that my wife didn't feel left out of it.

We enjoyed three courses slowly and only after eating dessert did I check my watch, it was nearly ten. Where had the evening gone? I slipped out to the bathroom for a piss and when I came back, Beverley was sitting on Geoffrey's lap and they were both talking earnestly to my wife, who looked a bit perturbed by whatever they were discussing.

I sat back down in my original chair, sneaking peeps across at the lengthy conversation, wondering what was going on there. Michelle obviously noted my distraction and leaned over to engage me in some meaningless chatter.

At last, Beverley stood up, looked across at me, then leaned down to kiss my wife on the cheek. Then she took my wife's hand and placed it in Geoffrey's hand. Smiling broadly, Beverley came back around the table, leant over my shoulder and said quietly, "You come with me now, I've squared it away with your wife, she's cool about it." Then she moved on toward the doorway.

"What?" I asked incredulously, "What do you mean she's cool about it?" I hadn't moved and my stunned vocal reaction was loud enough for my wife to hear.

My failure to rise from where I sat caused Beverley to return to stand beside me, "Am I going to have trouble with you? I told you everything's sweet, she accepts that we have to do this, so come upstairs with me now."

Nervously, I looked directly across at my wife, who, despite having Geoffrey talking to her, had been watching since Beverley first walked by me, and then returned when I didn't move. I watched in stunned silence as my wife gave an affirmative nod of her head, that seemed to imply to me her approval, before turning away from me to absorb whatever Geoffrey was saying to her.

I could not believe that my wife appeared to have just been persuaded to accept my going upstairs with Beverley to copulate. Had Beverley been entirely truthful with her? Did my wife really understand what was about to happen?

I stood and turned as if to go ... to follow Beverley from the dining room. But I hesitated, turning back to check again on my wife's approval. She wasn't even looking at me as I prepared to leave the room. She was too engrossed in whatever Geoffrey was saying to her. I saw that he still held my wife's hand that Beverley had placed in his. I was concerned, but I had also craved possessing Beverley's body since I first laid eyes on her in her office that initial visit. It might be now or never.

I caught up to my attorney in the hallway that led to the stairs. Her head was turned back toward me, watching me come up behind her. Her hands appeared to be busy with the clasp on her conservative grey pin-striped skirt. It fell from her hips to pool around her feet on the floor and she rested one hand on a hall table while she gracefully stepped out of the skirt, one foot at a time.

"Will you get that for me?" she called back to me, referring to her discarded skirt and resuming her steps toward the stairs. She still wore high heels, but her legs were now on display, clad in sexy stay-up dark grey stockings that matched the two piece suit she had worn all day. The tail of her while blouse was short, finishing just above the start of her arse, from where a strand of her thong appeared, the rest of it buried between her perfectly rounded bare arse cheeks.

This was a near perfect womanly body shape and it was inevitable that I had to have her.

I scooped up her skirt and hurried to catch up, hitting the bottom step as she reached the fourth, placing her far enough in front of me that her arse was now at eye level, shifting in perfect timing from side to side. I couldn't look away if I wanted to, the smooth unblemished skin of her arse cheeks held my attention as she rose slowly and proudly up the stairs toward the top floor.

She never looked back to check that I was still there behind her. She didn't have to, she had so much confidence that she knew I would be, eagerly pursuing her to claim my prize.

At the top of the stairs, she turned left and I did too, following her into a huge room that was obviously her bedroom. It was a feminine room, with all the frilly trimmings that identified it as belonging to a woman. Beverley strode purposefully over to her dressing table, telling me, "How about you go and lie down, doctor ... make yourself comfortable, I'll join you in a moment.

I did as she suggested, shedding my jacket and wondering if I should be so presumptuous as to remove my shirt and trousers now. There seemed little doubt why we were here in her bedroom, so should I be undressed and ready when she came to me? I lay down on the bed, my back against a pillow and the headboard, watching my attorney as she removed her jewellery and filed it in containers, then removed the jacket of the grey pin-striped suit.

She turned from checking herself in the mirror – she still looked flawless. She took two steps toward the bed and me, unbuttoning her white blouse. Another three steps and she was sliding the garment down her arms, revealing a low cut bra that exposed the top half of twin mounds. Below, the tiny triangle of her g-string cum thong only just concealed the hidden treasures that I had seen and touched with my fingers and lips in my surgery. Penetration of that magic place had so far eluded me, but not for much longer the way this was heading.

"You're dropping behind me, aren't you going to remove your clothes?" she asked and my hands hurried to comply, unbuckling my belt, then unzipping and pushing my trousers down over my hips, leaving my legs to kick them free.

Beverley walked across to a controller on the wall and dimmed the lights, turning the atmosphere immediately sexual. I unbuttoned my shirt and removed that too before she reached the bed. She looked down at my boxer shorts, now my only covering and commented, "I expected to be more impressed, based on past performance in your surgery."

I looked down to where she was looking and indeed, my erection was nothing to write home about, barely tenting the boxers. "I had expected better too," I concurred.

Her hand dropped and fondled my half-mast penis through the material of my boxer shorts, "You seem tense, doctor. Are you worried about what your wife might be thinking at this moment?"

I had to admit that she had nailed it in one guess. While I had been hot for Beverley's body for quite some time, I never expected that we would get to do it while my wife was no more than the turn of a door handle away from us. "That could be it, I do want you, you know."

"I thought you might," she said, aware of her desirability.

"Do you think that you might feel more relaxed if you knew she was okay ... that she wasn't fretting about what we might be doing."

"I am sure of it," I told her, wondering what her plan might be.

She leaned across to the bedside table, to a small speaker that looked like one of those baby monitors that parents use to listen to sounds coming from the nursery.

With the turn of a knob to apparently increase the volume, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman in heat, a woman with laboured heavy breathing that one could assume from past experiences was on the verge of a mighty orgasm.

"Does that sound like your wife?" asked Beverley, winding the volume up quite high.

It is strange, you know. In my 50+ years, I had never been asked to identify whether the sounds of a woman obviously enjoying sex, could actually be my wife. Yet, the longer I listened, the more certain I was that I was listening to my own wife experiencing extreme sexual pleasure ... and without me.

"It does, you know," I told my attorney. "I've heard her coming so many times, I'd say that's her. But what's happening, where is she and who is she with? Is that what you were cooking up with Geoffrey and her? We only left her a few minutes ago. If that's really her, how could she get to that stage so fast?"

"Oh doctor, so many questions. Don't worry about how and why, just accept that... yes, that is your wife, and... yes, she is close by to us, enjoying great sexual pleasure at the hands of one of my employees. Don't worry about it!"

"But she has never been unfaithful ... in all our years of marriage. She has never wanted anybody else. Where is she?"

"That baby monitor is hooked up into the next bedroom down the hall. You have nothing to worry about, she is in excellent hands. My assistant, Geoffrey is deeply into tantric sex. He is capable of giving pleasure while holding his own release back for an incredible length of time. Ejaculation control is a skill that can be learned like any other skill. A man can learn to enjoy more and more pleasure without the urgency to come."

"Where does all this stuff come from?"

"This stuff, doctor, is tantric sex, it has its origins in India and Buddhism. In Taoist sexuality writings, they say the woman is like water and the man is like fire. What normally happens is the water puts out the fire too quickly, the man is left exhausted and the woman is frustrated. They say there are in fact nine levels of a woman's orgasm, nine levels that she goes through before she's fully nourished sexually before her Shakti, her sexual spiritual energy is fully awakened. Most women have their first orgasm at level four; the man ejaculates and the other five levels are rarely reached. So young men like Geoffrey have learned to be extraordinary lovers, able to make love as long as necessary to satisfy their woman and at the same time reach higher orgasmic states themselves. They do it in many positions too ... she will learn a lot from him as well as derive immense sexual pleasure."

"But why would she want to go with him?" I asked, "What on earth did you say to her to have her think that she should cheat on me?"

"Can you hear yourself, doctor? What are you doing up here in my bedroom, is that not cheating on your wife? And what about fathering a child for that lovely young woman, Natalie? I met her today and she told me all about how you had sex with her day after day until she became pregnant ... wasn't that also cheating on your wife?"

"No, my wife asked me to do that ... Natalie and she cooked the whole thing up and presented it to me as a package, I had little say in it."

"You may have had little say in the planning, but I will bet you enjoyed every time you had to fornicate with her to make sure she got your sperm regularly while she was fertile. Then there's Victoria ... she told me how you turned down your weekly golf game so you could have her teach you how to fuck a woman in the arse. Wouldn't that be considered cheating on your wife? It's not all about you, doctor."

She was making a very clear point, one that I didn't really want to see. What most concerned me was that my wife had never shown any inclination to want to go to bed with another partner. Why had she suddenly become so willing ... and why was she sounding like she was really enjoying it?

I felt Beverley grasp the waistband of my boxer shorts and haul them down, exposing my only semi-hard cock. "Can you do something about this, doctor? Do you have any magic blue pills?"

"Not with me, I have never had the need for any assistance from Viagra in that regard."

"Well, I can tell you doctor, you don't look to me like you'll be going very far with that," she told me with scorn in her voice.

How extraordinary, seeing or hearing anything sexual had always guaranteed me a rampant erection ... but the sound of my wife deep in the throes of sexual pleasure with another man had rendered me as good as impotent. Why couldn't I quickly cast off my worries about my wife's first unfaithful sexual tryst? After all, standing beside the bed, in which I lay, was what I had craved these past few weeks. She was near naked and about to draw me into her vagina for what was probably going to be my only time with her. How could I stuff it up now?

I must have looked pathetic to her. This man who was lusting after her, twenty years older and unable to get it fully up. I was accustomed to talking to male patients about this dilemma, but I never expected to have it myself.

"I guess you better give me a bit of time," I said forlornly, looking up at her fabulously proportioned body. But she was already moving on, contemplating her next move, pressing a key on the beside communications system.

"Michelle, are you down there?" she called out quite loudly.

But from across the room, I heard a feminine voice, quite faint, "I'm here, Beverley!"

It was indeed her pa, Michelle. I looked in the direction from where the voice had come. The room was quite dim from the lowered lights, but I saw Michelle rise from a chair. How long had she been there? Had it been her intention to sit and watch us if copulating I had been able to get it up? Would she have been doing that with Beverley's approval ... maybe even request?

"Ah good, I'm going to need you, my dearest," Beverley told her and Michelle dutifully walked up to her near-naked boss and wrapped her arms around her more than affectionately. I watched from the bed - feeling almost like a voyeur - as the embrace between the two women became a passionate kiss, tongues entwined. All the while, Beverley's hands hastily undressed her young pa until the 20-something year old was down to identical underwear.