This story is a fantasy lesbian encounter that is truely delicious!
Don't you wish all visits to the dentist could be as enjoyable...
perhaps a dentist office with dirty movies played into special headsets
would take our minds off the nervousness we expect to encounter...
Any dentist out there willing to give this a try?
Enjoy Dream Lover by Brian Michaels!
I rated it a 3 batteries needed story
- buzzzzz
Dream Lover
by Brian Michaels
I walked into the waiting room of the dentist's office
feeling comfortable and relaxed. Tuesday was bath day for me. Most
of the time I take showers, but on Tuesday's I wake up and begin
the day with a nice, long, hot soak-with lots of bubble bath; the
kind that really softens your skin. For what seems like hours, I
gently sponge every inch of my body, lingering longer in some areas.
So, by the time I arrived at Dr. Salish's office for my appointment,
I was very relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that I wasn't even fearful
of the drill. Usually the mere thought of the dentist's drill would
be enough to send shivers up my spine. But, today, he could drill
to his heart's content and have his way with my mouth and teeth
and there would be no fight on my part. The appointment was just
for a check?up and cleaning.
"Marianne, please come this way," intoned the receptionist
in her best nasal-based manner. She was the kind of person you were
sure came with the building and had been there since the first brick
was laid; bleached pink hair, and skin that had spent too many hours
under a tanning lamp. She knew everybody who came in the door, and
ran the office as if it were hers. She led me down the hall and
into a room that was bare of decor, but appeared efficiently set
up for its singular purpose of dental hygiene. The hygienist came
in after I had been there for a few minutes. I remembered years
ago, when I was a little girl, that dental chairs were not very
comfortable. After an appointment it usually took several minutes
to get the kinks out. Not so in Dr. Salish's offices. Although they
would never make to the cover of any decorating magazines, the rooms
were comfortable and the colors pleasing to the eye and senses.
My room, today, was painted a very soft blue, which enabled me to
relax even more. The chair was covered with a light, almost camel?colored,
vinyl. When Gail, the hygienist came in she asked me if I was comfortable.
"Yes, very much so," I replied, recalling my morning soak. "Well,
I think I can make you just a little bit more so, would that be
alright?" "Fine with me," I smiled. She bent over and pressed a
button on the side of the chair that allowed it to unfold into a
position that made me feel like I was in bed. Gail was very proficient
in her duties. I guessed her to be several years younger than my
age of 45. Her hair was a very dark auburn, and lay, teasingly,
across the top of her shoulders. Gail was dressed in a nice cotton
blouse that buttoned up the front (and all her buttons were buttoned,
a fact that somehow caught my attention), sensible tan pants, and
loafers. You may think it's silly to notice what my hygienist is
wearing, but when you're laying in a dentist's chair for a while
before they begin work on you-there isn't much else to do. And,
for some reason, her buttons fascinated me. It seemed as though
they were all buttoned as a statement. Of what, I didn't know.
She almost startled me when she called my name. "Marianne,
would be okay if I started checking and cleaning your teeth." I
felt a little flush rise up my cheeks, almost as if she had been
reading my mind. Her voice also excited me. "Go ahead," I answered,
continuing, "I'm all yours!" "Good," she replied, in a voice that
was more elated than a regular reply would be to the same question.
As I began to drift into the comfort of the chair, which by now
had become a couch, my mind started to wander, and I felt myself
drift away when Gail brought her tooth pick to my mouth and began
her assigned task. I felt her gently nudging and moving the tool
along the top inside of my mouth, right along the gum line. I tried
to pay attention to what she was doing, but my morning ritual had
left me basically defenseless. My will and my strength were all
but completely gone; like you feel sometimes when you lay down on
a couch and it seems as though it is wrapping its cushions around
you. The music that had been playing in the background became strangely
silent as I drifted even further into my sodium-pentothal dream
world. When she began to work on the other side of my mouth, she
first tried to reach over me, and in so doing her breasts brushed
against my arm and caused me to shudder when I felt her hardened
nipples dancing across my chest. I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't.
Realizing that she wouldn't be able to effectively reach the other
side from where she was sitting, she pulled her arms back, but didn't
move away. I sensed her just sitting there, not making a sound.
I couldn't tell if this was a dream, or if this was actually happening
to me. The next thing I knew, I felt a solitary finger being placed
on my right cheek, just below the cheek bone.
No words were spoken, the sound of the silence that
had engulfed the tiny room was almost deafening. As her finger traced
a sensual pattern along the landscape of my cheek, I felt her shifting
closer. I felt as though I were taking a shower. My whole body felt
damp. The finger never stopped its singular purpose when her tongue
softly touched my top lip, which had almost become numb in anticipation
of the next move by Dr. Salish's more-than-able assistant. Something
tried to warn me and tell me that something wasn't quite right.
But, I wondered how I could feel this wonderful if what was happening
was supposed to be so wrong. My own hands had begun to move on their
own, seemingly without any commands on my part. My left hand began
to move from its resting position on the arm of the chair and slide
along the front of the sweater I was wearing. Slowly, it moved from
the lower hem to the rise of a breast, that felt like it was being
wrongfully imprisoned by the bra I was wearing. The tingling nipple
seemed to be the magnet to which my hand was being drawn. I moved
my palm in a circular motion to the pleasure of its recipient, and
was still aware of the presence of Gail's firm tongue on my lips
as she began to part them. Before my left hand would continue its
timeless mission, my right hand went lower-to a different destination.
I had wanted to wear pants that matched the sweater, but they were
at the cleaners; so I just picked out a simple skirt with an elastic
band. When my hand began to move involuntarily, but with directed
purpose, under the band, I was glad that I hadn't bothered to look
for another pair of pants. By this time, Gail's tongue had entered
into the deeper depths of my mouth, and her lips had relaxed onto
mine. She placed her right hand so gently under my sweater, just
above my belly button, that it almost felt as if it had always been
a part of me. Removing her finger from my cheek, and her lips from
my mouth, she used her left hand to lift the sweater off a stomach
that had begun to expose tiny beads of sweat which were tracing
their own individual and random patterns.
I raised my arms as if to answer her silent request
to remove a sweater that was fast becoming cumbersome. She didn't
rush anything. I could feel the fibers as the material slid up over
my bra and breasts, teasing the nipples. Then the sweater glided
across downy?soft slopes up to my neck, over my head, then fell
into a silent crumple on the floor. She returned her lips and tongue
to my mouth, but didn't linger there. Not touching me with anything
else but that darting spear of ecstasy, she patiently explored almost
every inch of a body that had fast become totally aware and expectant
of her every move. Ears vied with eyes while a neck was competition
for every other part of me that lay in wait and anticipation of
her touch. I was helpless with pleasure. "Does this feel OK?" she
asked with barely a whisper. She had taken one of my hands and placed
it inside her apparently unbuttoned blouse. She wasn't wearing a
bra. But before doing so, she took one of the fingers and sucked
it into her mouth which felt warm and comforting, and extremely
sexy. Placing my still moistened finger?tip on one of her nipples
caused it to become even harder than when I had first felt it brush
against my arms. She guided the finger almost absent?mindedly around
and around the very tip of the nipple, exhaling very sharply each
time she removed the object of her desire to lick it. Her breath
blew hot and rapid on my already heated cheeks. Expert fingers unfastened
my bra and freed my breasts from their prison. I felt the moistness
of her tongue as it moved the fabric away from my skin, only to
return and delicately form circles around first one nipple, then
the other. My left hand returned to its previous position under
the elastic band of my skirt, and went one layer further, under
the silky fabric of panties that like the discarded sweater were
fast becoming too confining. Stiff hairs greeted nervous fingers
as they went lower and lower and then curved into a resting position
just above the pulsing passageway to my woman hood. I continued
along the path that seemed to have no return and reached into the
moistened stickiness of the velvet folds. I felt Gail's hand join
mine and assist it in stroking and plunging me to sublime satisfaction.
With her other hand she reached down and pushed a
button on the chair that lowered the section that was supporting
my feet. The hand that had pushed the button returned to its original
place my cheek; touching it ever?so?softly. I sensed her getting
up, but without removing the hand that was trailing itself along
my neck and moved lower to the rise of my right breast. Gail's right
hand now replaced mine - down there, and continued its primal ministering.
All I could hear was the rise and fall of her hurried breathing.
This wonder woman of sensuality never took her hands from my body
as she moved them both to the elastic band of my skirt and lowered
the now useless garment down to my knees, to my ankles, and then
to the floor; falling and resting in a silent whisper. In its own
time, the last remaining article of clothing I wore, my panties,
joined the others. Gail's wonderful hands that had brought me pleasure
at every point touched by them now were stroking my inner thighs.
My hands were not letting my nipples rest. Lowering herself so that
she was now eye?level and in front of my reclined belly, she kissed
and licked my belly?button, but didn't linger there. I sensed she
was on the way to a destiny that she may have sought and found with
other patients in this tiny sanctuary. My thighs now felt the hurried
impatience of her hands massaging my legs. My limbs became weightless
as she continued to stroke them. I then felt her breath as she traced
warm streams of passion from my knees to my copper colored nest.
A tongue that had built imaginary highways on the surface of my
skin was now parting my other lips and spreading the fires of sensual
passion even deeper. I felt her part my those lips and dart in and
out of my pussy. Then her hands began to move up my legs, over my
stomach, and then rest just below my breasts, so that each mound
rested on a separate hand. My whole body was inflamed with the fires
of desire. With directed purpose Gail's tongue brought me to the
brink and I wanted to shout, "Don't Stop!" Just as I was balancing
my whole being on the edge of release she squeezed both my breasts,
then took each nipple between her index fingers and her thumbs and
pinched my nipples. I could hold back no longer. There were no more
boundaries. "Marianne, Marianne-are you alright!" Gail's concerned
voice brought me reluctantly back from the reverie I was enjoying.
"Where were you? I thought you had passed out and had become feverish."
she said, sounding very concerned. I answered, "I'm fine, I must
have dozed and started to dream."
"It must have been some dream! I though I was going
to have to strap you down. I was almost able to finish my work before
you began to tremble. Are you sure you're okay?" Gail replied. As
I began to regain my senses, I looked at the clock on the wall and
noticed that only forty?five minutes had passed, and realized that
I had been dreaming. I was fully clothed, and Gail had her utensils
in her hands. When I sat up, Gail mentioned that I needed to return
in a couple of days so that she could finish her cleaning. She said
she had stopped in concern of my apparent condition. I assured her
that I was okay, and that my morning bath had probably relaxed me
a little too much. She smiled and agreed. As I was leaving, she
turned to me, smiling slyly, and said,"I'm looking forward to our
next session," as she fastened her top button.
