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No More Doctor Nice Guy Part 5 free porn video
No more doctor Nice guy Part 5
No one died on my third day. I guess Kristi was right; it did not happen
every day. It also made me suspect that my melodramatic assumptions of
last evening; specifically that I was some sort of angel of death; was a
little bit of an overreaction. Something it appeared I had quite a
leaning towards doing, in my new state of being.
My despondence had eased a little in that light of day. Things did not
seem quite so despairingly hopeless as I had speculated in my nocturnal
wallowing.
The nursing tasks started to become more second nature and I found
myself instinctively predicting what the Doctors would want done for
their patients before they even saw them. Part of it I guess was the
residual skills from my past life, but more of it felt like common
sense.
Another key was learning how to manipulate the Doctors to get what you
want, in the best interests of your patient. I suppose having been on
both sides of the fence I could see how the differing pressures and
priorities could bring about disagreement. We as nurses tended to focus
more on patient comfort and general well being, developing a much more
meaningful relationship with them in a very short time; whereas Doctors
flitted in and out and were focused more on diagnosing and problem
solving, with the patient's psychological and physical harmony being a
secondary concern. It wasn't so much a criticism, as an observation.
Nonetheless, by using my honed interpersonal skills, which evidently
still existed even though I hadn't been wise enough to call upon
formerly, I was able to negotiate and integrate both equally important
aspects of care.
I guess I found some of the contentment I was searching for, when I had
my catharsis of last night, in my day at work. Kristi seemed happy with
me, and I enjoyed spending time with her on our breaks. It started as
small talk, but I was able to get her to quite freely divulge
information about her life. There was some compulsion in me that drove
me to want to know more about her. It seemed to be based in admiration.
Was I seeing her as some sort of role model? Did I want to emulate her?
Nonetheless I found out all about her life. Particularly her seemingly
favourite subject. Perhaps rightly so too. Her fianc.... A school
teacher named Marty. When she talked about him I couldn't help get
caught up in the wistfulness of young romance. I knew this wasn't me. Or
not the old me I mean. This was Alex Moore, seemingly starry eyed
hopeless romantic. What perverse pleasure Mr Black must be getting
seeing me reduced to this gooey thing.
I wasn't quite so forthcoming when she asked me about my husband. She
probably interpreted my responses as being secretive, or maintaining
some zealous privacy, but the reality was I hardly knew him to say much
about him.
Maybe tonight would finally give me the opportunity to get to learn more
about him, given he no longer had to go out in search of sexual
satisfaction. I hoped too, that perhaps as we get to know each other
better, the sex will become less arduous.
I got home on time and followed a similar routine to the two previous
nights. It was Friday now. I was doing my first late shift the next day;
Saturday, followed by an early shift on Sunday. I wouldn't see a lot of
Kevin over the weekend, due to those shifts leaving time between only
really for sleeping, so I hoped tonight would be a chance to talk.
I felt there was an element of now or never about it. Instinct told me
that we needed to establish patterns of interaction presently, in
preparation for any enforced change in my behavior or the establishment
of habit.
Once it reached 730pm however, his dinner cold and no sign of him, my
hopes began to deflate. I checked his location on my phone, as per our
previous arrangement, and my heart sunk still further.
I called him then, vacillating as to whether I should pretend I didn't
know where he was, or challenge him on it.
He answered with the universal greeting, somewhat noncommittal, yet it
was a promising sign. I wasn't sure that he would pick up the phone at
all.
"Hi." I reciprocated his salutation. "When will you be home? Your
dinner's gotten cold." I heard myself sounding like every stereotypical
housewife from time immemorial.
"I won't be home till much later, Alex. I'll eat out. Don't wait up," he
voiced with a tone of further neutrality.
Any attempts at feigned ignorance or indifference fell away from me both
quickly and completely. He was back at 'The Northcote'; my phone had
told me and the background noise was mere verification.
"Kevin why are you there?" Although I felt I knew. It seemed that I
hadn't been able to give him what he needed after all.
Alex Turner would have described my bedroom performance from last night
as a "Dud root." Or were he more charitable, a 'lousy lay.'
I thought it was enough to just offer it up. Clearly he needed more of
an active participant. Which I imagined his whores gave him in spades.
They were trained for it. It was their job. How could I possibly compete
with that? I mean I hated it for a start. As such a stark reminder of
what I had become. But for my first time I was scared about how much it
would hurt and exactly what it would feel like; so of course I couldn't
fully commit.
He didn't respond to my question at all; although I suppose silence is
its own response.
"Kevin please just come home. I'll try harder. I'll do better. It was
only one time. My first." An audible verification of my internal
machinations. "You have to give me a chance!" I blathered away.
His voiceless rejoinder persisted. So much so that I begin to wonder if
he'd hung up. I didn't think he would but I no longer felt I had any
actual insight into how he may behave. Not that I ever did. I could make
assumptions based on normal human behavior; but he didn't really follow
the rules.
"Kevin?"
"It's not that Alex," he said flatly.
"Then what is it?" I'm confused.
"I wasn't prepared for how it would make me feel when you see what I
become. This primal thing with one singular goal. And then the moment it
was all done, when my higher brain started working again; I could see
the look in your eyes. Frightened out of your wits. Doing something that
clearly horrifies and degrades you. And I just felt so ashamed."
Is that why he turned away from me? Because he couldn't face me? Not
because he was disgusted by me.
"I don't think you behaved any differently than any man does when he's
about to orgasm Kevin," I tried to reassure him. And I feel like I at
least half believed in what I was saying. "I'm sure Alex Turner was the
same. But please don't go back to them. Please give me one more chance."
"I dunno Alex." His answer, although brief, is weighted with
pontification.
"Kevin. If we don't at least try this then you may never escape the
hamster wheel he has you on. If and when I become an insatiable tramp
I'm sure the sex will be better. And I suppose it will be consensual in
a way, because I'm sure I'll want it. But at the moment it's my choice.
And I'm choosing you. To help you. But you have to choose me too."
There is a pause, yet again, and I sense that I'm holding my breath.
Another rebuttal and I'll never be able to get through to him.
"You're right," he conceded. "Okay." He sighed loudly. "I'm on my way
home."
"I'm glad." Which I was. "See you soon."
In the immediate aftermath of our conversation my course of action was
pretty clear. Even though I was still yet to become a shameless Ho, I
needed to do a much better job of pretending I was one. Fortunately,
compared to last night's frigid efforts, there was plenty of room for
improvement, and honestly, double entendre or not, the only way was up.
***
Once again I rummaged through my wardrobe with intent.
I knew it was a fruitless and migrainous exercise to try and contemplate
the logistics of Mr Black's reality altering ability.
As it was now, Alex Turner had never existed. Yet I distinctly remember
being him.
Conversely though now, Alex Moore had always been. She had a back story,
and all the goods and chattels of a life lived to that point. A nursing
degree, a wedding album, childhood photos and so on.
But I didn't have memory of it. People knew me but I didn't know them. I
hadn't even got around to sorting out what family I had.
So many fragments to piece together and not even so much as a leg up. Of
course I didn't want that. I didn't want memories of things that hadn't
actually happened to me. I couldn't be sure that wasn't in store for me
though. Nonetheless, when I had appeared in Kevin Moore's living room as
his wife, everything of me as Alex Moore appeared alongside.
I figured that I would find in my Tallboy chest of drawers, something
akin to honeymoon lingerie, and I wasn't disappointed. A rich dark
purple satin camisole and matching shorts. I suppose deep plum would be
a fancier way to describe it. It had a luxuriant sexiness about it just
lying in the drawer. I hoped that on me I could do it even more justice.
I figured unless Kevin had inherited more memories of our marriage than
I had, he would be seeing me in it for the first time. Hopefully the
impact will be enough to make him glad he came home to me rather than
his onward trip to the bordello.
But I had to deliver more than aesthesis to him. Last night I would have
thought the black lace had induced a similar, if not quite as magnified,
response as I was hoping for tonight.
I had to back up the look with action.
Alex Turner had slept with plenty of women. Nothing ridiculous mind. He
was no lothario, but he did okay. I thought about them. His women. My
women. All unique in their own way. What they liked and what they liked
to do. I needed to use those memories. I had to channel various aspects
of them right now to succeed. I had to make myself a hybrid
manifestation of the collage of females from my past. They were the only
point of reference I had.
I did my face up. An even better result than the previous evening. Was
it just me becoming more accomplished or further influence from Mr
Black? Who knows? At the moment it didn't matter. I sprayed myself with
perfume; on the parts I deemed relevant I guess, and sat awkwardly on
the side of the bed, in wait.
When the front door unlocked my heart began to race. Possibly even more
so than last evening when I had lead him through the door. Tonight
though, it wasn't all purely angst. There was a small element of
anticipation too.
I positioned myself in the bedroom door frame, trying again to look
sensual and composed, but feeling gawkish and gangly.
"Hi," I purred.
Kevin did like what he saw, or so it seemed, for once again he began to
devolve into the animalistic primate of last evening as he rushed at me.
"Not so fast!" I said sternly, but still bracing slightly for impact. It
was effective. He halted his advance and looked at me quizzically.
"You have to kiss me first." I tried to steady the shakiness of my voice
but I felt certain it was glaringly audible.
"Are you serious?" he stated it with more incredulity than was probably
necessary.
As stupid as it sounded, kissing a man felt far more like a deeper
plunge into womanhood than last night's spreading of my legs had. I
couldn't explain it more than save to say, last night I had merely
offered up my body to him. Tonight I was offering him my soul in a way.
"I'm never going to be primed for you if you just take me Kevin. Surely
you must remember the concept of foreplay. You want me wet you've gotta
at least give me a reason to be."
"Don't patronize me Alex," he scowled. "I was a woman for a hell of a
lot longer than you've been."
My instinct to retort with 'well you'd never know' chokes in my throat.
He has no control over what the curse makes him do. But he can be
trained and redirected. Just like Pavlov's dogs.
Now there was a man who knew what he was on about. And he wasn't even a
psychiatrist. He was a scientist.
"I know that." I regain focus. "And I'm not trying to be smart. We just
need to humanize this more. Make it less like rutting and more like sex.
You said yourself it felt wrong when we did it like emotionless animals.
If it helps, try and pretend I'm someone you like. Someone from your
past you loved perhaps?"
"I can't." He backed away slightly from me.
"Can't what? Can't remember?" Has Mr Black's curse taken away his
memories of past loves? How awful! Is that going to happen to me?
"Can't love." It's so matter of fact it stuns me.
"Because of the curse? Since the curse?" The more I know, the worse
things seem to bode for me.
"No Alex. Since always. You think you're the first psychiatrist I saw?
Back when I was...... back before all this I saw plenty. From since I
was a child. The official term for me is a Narcissistic sociopath. I
assume you still remember what that means."
I did. I stepped closer again in response to his withdrawal and looked
directly into his eyes, which I could see blazing with self loathing.
"You're wrong," I tell him.
"About what?"
"I don't know what you are yet. I don't know you well enough. But I know
what you're not. And you're certainly no sociopath."
"That's bullshit."
I didn't feel so much that he was questioning my credentials as a
psychiatrist, but merely espousing what he'd been told. What he'd always
believed. I knew I was right though. Which meant one of only two
possibilities. Either back before the curse he was incorrectly
diagnosed; or the curse had changed him so much he was a completely
different person. An incomparable person really. There was no doubt this
had ramifications for me. I was changing. I was aware of that. But how
much was I going to change? To know the answer to that I needed to find
out so much more about Kevin. Who he was before, and why on Earth he'd
been seeing a psychiatrist since childhood. But it was not the time for
that. It truly was a case of one thing at a time. Still he needed my
assurance that he was far more capable of performing emotional acts than
he thought he was.
"Well maybe you were. Before the curse perhaps. But you're not now. You
feel. Hate. Guilt. Whatever. But you do feel. And more importantly you
care. You wouldn't even get an associate membership in the society of
sociopaths." I only feel stupid after I say it.
Kevin doesn't respond, but his face is now a contortion of confusion.
There's only one thing I can do in this moment of tense rumination.
"So try feeling this."
I wrap my arms around him in approach and look up. He has not time to
either break away or resist as he tries to emerge from his own
cogitation, so I plant my lips firmly on his.
I close my eyes and try to imagine someone I'd like to kiss. But I can
only think of him. And my determination to prove him wrong. To prove
that he can feel.
Maybe it's working, but I've lost the ability to tell right now. Because
one of us is certainly feeling. I kiss him harder. This broken man in my
arms. I feel a warmth from deep inside me that I've never felt anything
quite like before, and I know that the likelihood for us needing lube
again tonight has markedly decreased.
Part of me is filled with an uneasiness that he may pull away, still
revolted. Just my own general fear of rejection perhaps. He doesn't. In
fact with time his arms mirror mine, now encircling me. We are entwined.
I'm aware I haven't proved anything yet. This could still just be him
responding to a base need.
Still, he's maintaining his composure far better than yesterday, and I
let our kiss linger. It allows me to experience the sensation of it. His
face is rough with the stubble of a day's growth, and it feels abrasive
against my own smooth, seemingly more sensitive than previous, skin. The
last thing I need is a bout of teen-like pash rash. How do women avoid
it I wonder? As the kiss continues I toy with the idea of using my
tongue but it seems excessive and overly forward. I think both of us are
potential flight risks and too aggressive a move from either of us could
be the end of things.
With that in mind I decide it's my turn to gently disrobe him, rather
than allow him to shred his clothes and mine in frenzy. I break off the
kiss and release my embrace to focus on his undressing.
He's still in his work clothes. Some sort of hi-Vis fleece over a cheap
looking logo-ed polo and sturdy work pants. Standard factory foreman
wear I surmise. He may well have showered this morning before work; I
left before him; but as I unzip his fleece I detect the aroma of a days
labor.
He smells of man I suppose. A day of sweat and toil. It's unappealing. I
dread to think that one day soon I may feel the opposite about it. I'd
rather the scent of my own perfume lingered in my nostrils. God knows
I'd doused myself in it. My neck, my wrists, my boobs, and even, crassly
perhaps, between my legs. But I couldn't smell it at all. Another old
wives tale sprang to mind. If you can't smell your own perfume on you,
it means it suits you. On reflection it sounded just like the bra one
with merely a few words changed.
Are these theories really just someone 'taking the piss'?
I didn't feel in any position of authority to make an educated decision
so I just had to accept them as lore.
I smirked at the tangents my brain repeatedly tries to take me on to
cope better with what I'm putting myself through, as I returned my
attention to Kevin's layer stripping. With the fleece gone I undid the
two buttons at the top of his polo and slid it over his head. As Alex
Turner at this juncture I would usually bury my mouth into the cleavage
and across the curvatures of my female sex partners now exposed breasts.
Doing this as Alex Moore was not wise and not at all the same. All I
received for my efforts was a mouthful of hard hairy chest. If I thought
his stubble was off putting then a taste of his spindly long chest hairs
was simply gross. I was worried it may lead me to cough up a furball.
I was beginning to think I'd over-reached. Things needed to be far more
stepwise. I can't expect to go from frigid prude to sex Goddess in 24
hours. Well not without supernatural intervention I suppose. I busied
myself with the removing of his clothing from his bottom half. He
continued to caress me awkwardly as I did so. Of course crouching down
to remove his pants and undies at the ankle had the undesired result of
leveling my eyes with his now fully erect penis. There was a moment of
frozen tenseness between us.
There was no way in hell I was wrapping my lips around that. It was
probably something that future slut Alex will cherish in time, but I
still hoped I was a long way from getting there; from being her. I
didn't entirely feel like he was too keen on me touching it with my
mouth either. But I may have been misreading the signals there. I
scurried to a stand to quickly put as much distance between me and the
one eyed monster, suddenly feeling like a ridiculous child for my
priggish behavior.
One of us was now naked; and the other clad in slippery satin. I lead
him by the hand to the bed; a different approach compared with the night
before, when he had virtually tackled me onto it.
Another thing I was determined to change compared with it's precedent; I
was not going to lie over the edge of the bed spread-eagled tonight,
with him leaning in from the side. I lay on my back, fully on the centre
of the bed, and pulled him down on top of me.
My next thought, in a series of consecutive ones seemingly determined to
spoil any chance of mood, was noting how bloody heavy he was.
It hadn't occurred to me that we, as the slighter creatures, were by and
large on the bottom in the commonest of all sexual positions, whereas
the sometimes considerably heavier male bears down on us. What a
seemingly peculiar arrangement. Allowing ourselves to be crushed for the
sake of sexual intercourse. Maybe other mammals have the right idea.
They certainly don't do it this way.
'Oh for God sake Alex,' I scream at myself internally. 'Enough!' Kevin
was practically starting without me anyway.
We tried to make it less clinical. He whacked on his condom and removed
my cami and shorts. He then gave it his best shot to try and ravage me.
It was not completely ineffective. I was physiologically responding as
an aroused woman should.
I gave as good as I got too. Not too much more lip kissing, but his neck
was conveniently placed and relatively hairless, so I went at it like a
vampire. I had to be mindful not to give him a hickey though.
When he entered me it was less 'shoving the plunger in the toilet' than
last night and whilst I wouldn't say it was comfortable, it was
definitely less irritating.
And further still, as he slid back and forward even that too was less
like I was being bounced up and down on a pogo stick. So yes, things
were better all round.
All these wry observations I was making, I suppose they would've been
funny if I wasn't so uptight about it. Nonetheless, I needed to chill a
bit more and shut my damn brain off.
With that in mind, I was just beginning to try and ascertain if I could
find any possible pleasure in the motion or the process when Kevin
suddenly grunted loudly, becoming almost hypertonic for a moment, before
slumping into lethargy.
He had ejaculated.
"Wow that was fast!" I said without filtering it.
"I... Errr...Sorry Alex." He seemed genuinely apologetic. "I don't
usually do that."
It was neither here nor there to me. I was just glad it was over and
done. But last night had taken so much longer. As a former male I knew
that there were infinite variables that could change performance from
one moment to the next but I couldn't help but wonder if my putting on
of a bit of a show had brought him to climax all the quicker.
"I'll take it as a sign you like me if you shoot your load that
quickly," I said facetiously.
He flushed and looked away. A reaction I was not expecting.
He rolled off me but this time not away from me.
"I am really sorry Alex," he said again.
"Kevin relax! This isn't about me. Getting my rocks off is the farthest
thing from my mind. It's about you doing what you have to do and not
being ashamed of it. And you did. You treated me like a person. Now all
you have to do is hold me after!" My last sentence was supposed to be
funny. I would have thought it inherently obvious I was joking.
But instead he answered, "Okay." And slid his arm around my shoulders.
We were now in some sort of post coital embrace. I thought of Kevin's
earlier warnings. 'Be careful what you wish for.' Me and my stupid
mouth. It would have been awkward and rude to wriggle out from his grasp
now. I'd committed myself to a cuddle for a while.
But I couldn't just lie there thinking about it. It was not my nature.
"Are you feeling somnolent?" I asked him. Sounding unintentionally
pretentious.
"What?"
"You know. Men and sex. Aren't you supposed to fall asleep after? Like
last night. You were out like a light."
"Alex. It's not even nine o'clock yet."
"So? That's a No? Good. Can we talk then?" I'm eager.
"I guess." I could hear the trepidation in his voice.
"Okay." I draw breath. "Why were you seeing a psychiatrist when you were
a child? And why did they think you were a sociopath?"
"Seriously? You're going to lead with that? What the hell?" But his
voice isn't raised, just a little terse.
"You never mentioned any of that to me. Alex Turner I mean. And it was
so relevant. So what are you hiding?" It wasn't accusatory, just intoned
as curiosity.
"Well clearly I didn't tell you then for a reason. So why would you
think I'd tell you now?"
"Because we weren't lovers then," I tease.
"Lovers!?" He's incredulous.
"Well technically we are." I have a smug smile.
"Good God!" But he's not really mad.
"Kevin," I say softly. "I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you. And I'm in
no position to judge you. But if you tell me about your past maybe I can
help you. I dunno. Maybe once a psychiatrist, always a psychiatrist or
something. I don't feel he's taken all that training away from me. Well
not yet. And maybe there's a reason for that."
"You aren't going to let up are you?" There's resignation in his voice.
"Nope! And I'm here to stay. Unless you're still planning on throwing me
out." I don't actually believe he is.
"Well your cooking's okay." He smirks.
"Is that a hint? Your dinner will need reheating. But you're not getting
it till you tell me your abridged back story."
"I'm not sure it's a story that can really be abridged." His mood has
changed yet again. I can sense that he is both reflective, and glum.
"Okay." I say as I prop myself up on one elbow so that I can look more
directly at the naked man lying beside me. "I'm listening."
TBC
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