Sandras Family
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Sandra's Hidden DepthsChapter 3 free porn video
We retired to the bathroom to shower and make ourselves presentable. Sandra had an afternoon shift, and I had chores to do at home. "When do you think we should meet up again?" she asked, tying her scrub pants.
"I don't know. How long do you want to wait?"
"Really, I'm of two minds. One part of me says we ought to have a repeat encounter, oh, this weekend. Another part says we ought to wait a week or two. The wait-a-week part is thinking that spacing out our encounters will both give us time to savor each meeting, as well as time to imagine games to play on our next play date. The how-about-tomorrow part is the girl who is still tingling, and wants more! What about you?
"Yep, this has been as much fun as I have had in quite a while. I'm certainly eager to entertain you again, maybe at my place. On the other hand, the novelty adds to the excitement, and spacing out our encounters will prolong the novelty. Really, as much as I want you, I really want to enjoy you in the long term. I suppose my vote is for sometime next week. Let's meet at my place, next weekend, and take that opportunity to plot our time together. You list some games you want to play, I'll do the same. Lets have dinner, oh, say Friday night, and plan on spending the weekend together. We'll compare notes over dinner."
Sandra gave this a moment's thought. "Let's do that! I can think of a few things I want to explore, and I'll gather the stuff needed to do so. You do the same, and we can select the games to play. I'm in!"
She kissed me goodbye at the door, I rocked and spun my truck free of the snowy embrace of her parking lot, and headed home.
I was curious how peculiar it would be once we returned to work. I certainly did not plan on changing how I reacted to Sandra while on duty, and anticipated nothing else from her. Still, having sampled her pleasures, there would be a change. It remained to be seen how that change would play out.
As per my usual routine, I arrived at my assigned clinic around 20 minutes before my start time. Sandra was at another clinic (not uncommon), but her BFF Linda was working with me. Since I've been an ER RN for thirty years, more or less, I am acquainted with how women operate: they demonstrate levels of sharing that guys find difficult to imagine. I expected that Linda had received a thorough briefing on our evening together, and on her part provided a thoroughgoing critique of the events. Now to see how Linda would respond to this information.
As my day progressed, there was no indication that anything new had occurred. Linda was her usual breezy self, and the conversation around the nurse's station was typical of the workday. I took my lunch, surprisingly at the same time as Linda, and she (as usual) acted as if I weren't there for most of the break. I buried myself in my copy of American Rifleman.
Once the day was completed, the gaggle of us walked to our cars, preparing to return home. Linda dallied, and approached me once the rest had departed.
"So, Mark," she began, "You heard about Jeremy and Sandra, right?"
"Yep. Too bad, Sandy is a great person. I always enjoy working with her," I responded.
"I heard she had a hookup, you know." Linda was fishing, it seemed. I wasn't taking the bait.
"Really? Did you hear anything else?"
"You know what I heard. I know you did!"
"Oh? What did I hear?"
"I wanna know how it went for you. Tell me about it!"
"What did Sandra tell you?"
"Oh, she tells me everything!"
"So, there is nothing else to tell you, since she already told you everything!"
"You have nothing to add, huh?" Linda pressed for more.
"Nope. Sandra told you everything she wants you to know, and for me, either I don't know anything or I'm not talking. In either event, if she's happy, then I'm happy. End of my comments."
"No kiss-and-tell for you, huh?"
"Linda, if I had kissed, I will not tell. If I have not kissed, there is nothing to tell. Either way, I have nothing to say, except that I like Sandy, since it didn't work out with Jeremy, then I'm sad that Sandra is unhappy, and I hope she finds happiness. Period!"
"You're no fun!", Linda pouted.
"Yep, that's what happens when you are old and boring, like me!"
We parted, and headed home. Shortly after I got in the door, my phone rang. Sandra was on the other end. "I hear you fended off Linda and her questions."
"Took some work, but, yes, I evaded her interrogation. She called you, huh?"
"How come you didn't say anything?"
"Like I told Linda, you told her everything you wanted her to hear. What passes between you and me is our business. If you elect to share with your friends, good for you. Me, I got nothing to say. You can share your business as far as you want. I won't share your business for you."
"Well, maybe you'd like to consider some additional business."
"With you? You have my attention. What do you have in mind?"
"Did you get the flyer about the continuing education conference next month? I was considering going. Maybe we could car pool?"
"Sounds attractive. Did you have anything else in mind?"
"Well, we might save some more money if we shared a room at the conference. Might wind up getting some itches scratched."
"You make a compelling argument. I like the sound of that. Lets do it! Don't you have that weekend off already?"
"Yep. You have to work, I looked at the schedule. As many switches as you have done for folks, you likely won't have any problem swapping days so you can go."
"I'm in! Uh ... you gonna tell Linda?"
She chuckled, briefly. "Nope! The suspense will gnaw at her. I'll let her stew for a while, before I provide her with the next chapter of our adventures. Let's plan more thoroughly, on Friday and after. See you then!"
I enjoyed my dinner, did some cleaning, and went to bed. I had several 12 hour shifts before I could play once again. As I fell asleep, I thought that it might be entertaining to see if the dream control business was a one-of-a-kind, or a recurrent theme of our relationship. I decided to dream about Sandra working without a bra. I figured it would be sort of racy, not dramatically obvious, yet could be verified by a willing participant. I wasn't certain I could determine the content of my dreams, but it certainly sounded as if it would be fun if it worked. Off to dreamland!
I woke the next morning feeling rested. I remembered my intention to control my dream, but could not recall dreaming at all. As I reviewed the schedule, I saw I'd be working with Sandra at North Clinic today. I wondered if I had indeed dreamed of her forgetting a bra as she dressed today, and if so, had she "heard" my dream. Finally, would she feel compelled to act on that dream? Might prove to be an interesting day.
I parked and strolled into work. Sandra was at the usual station, primly dressed in her uniform scrubs, and a clinic issued warm up jacket. I settled in, and started my day.
Patients cane and left, prescriptions were written, tests ordered, the day passed. Around mid day, Sandra draped her warm up jacket over the back of her chair. She looked a little warm, flushed sort of, and she turned away from me as if suddenly shy. I thought of my dream plan the previous night, and wondered.
Coincidentally, we took lunch at the same time. Sandra entered the break room after me, and closed the door. She sat next to me, and leaned over, conspiratorially whispering to me, "I hope you are happy! You evil rat! I wore that damned jacket as long as I could, but it simply got too hot for me. Don't you say a word, not a single word! If you get me all flustered, and nipply, I'll ... I'll ... Oh, I don't know what I'll do!"
"So, did you dream last night?" was my reply.
"Yes I did! You made me do this! I never-NEVER go out without a bra, but You! You made me! I'm so embarrassed, I don't know what to do!" If I could get yelled at, in a whisper, this was the time. I indulged myself in some speculation.
"So, you're embarrassed?"
She hissed her reply. "Yesss!"
I pressed her. "Is that the only thing that you are feeling? No arousal? No excitement, no tingle of doing something forbidden?"
She drew back, looking thoughtful. "Part of the reason I'm so anxious, is that I'm afraid my nipples will give away how hot I'm feeling. It's bad enough that I'm doing what you command. It's worse that I tingle at doing so. It's even worse yet that I'm afraid I'll leak all over my chair, and everyone will know how aroused I am, at doing something risque, at your command, and maybe being found out. And I cannot do a single thing about it, here at work!"
I responded, "Good. You remember that feeling. We'll discuss it Friday. I really enjoy how you respond. Just like you are getting hot, your responses make me hot. We may have a very heated weekend, together!" Lunch over, I returned to work. I watched Sandra with renewed interest for the balance of the afternoon. She had indeed obeyed my command, but had planned to give herself an out: she wore an undershirt this morning, and only rarely did I think I glimpsed a nipple bump. Still, the thought made me feel all warm and happy inside.
Friday, I arrived home after work to see Sandra's Toyota in my drive. As I collected my paraphernalia from my workday, she approached me with a pizza box in her hand.
"I brought dinner. You hungry?"
"Yep. I was thinking take out of some sort, but I see that you are more organized than I am. Good call!", as I ushered her into my house.
We seated ourselves, and she dished out the pizza. Sandra began.
"Mark, I've been thinking about this weekend."
"What are your thoughts?"
"Well, remember my concerns about last weekend? About submitting myself to you?"
Around a bite of pizza, I nodded.
"Well, I was afraid you might want to display me naked or something, or beat me, remember?"
Again, I nodded.
"Then you dream-ordered me to not wear a bra yesterday. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment, if anyone saw my nipples. I didn't think anyone could avoid seeing them, because the thought of not wearing a bra, and you commanding me to do so, was simply so exciting that I got all swampy thinking about it. I didn't know it would turn me on to be almost exposed in public. It embarrasses me to admit it, but I kind of liked it."
I swallowed, and encouraged her to continue. "So, does this newly discovered exhibitionist in you have any thoughts about this weekend? Might that figure in your plans?"
"Yep. I want you to take me on a road trip. You decide where, you decide everything. At some point, you tell me to flash. Maybe a trucker, maybe some other driver, maybe nobody. Not knowing when, not knowing who, will make it so much more exciting!"
"Still kind of cold outside. Your nipples might just decide to talk about the temperature, for everybody to see! You think that will be a problem for you?"
"Oh, God! I'll be so embarrassed! But, with you ordering me to do it, I won't have any choice! I'll be so hot! And," she gave me a knowing nudge," with me being so hot, well, you just may know somebody who will have to put out the flames that result. Think you are gonna be up to it? I'd hate to knock off an old man. You'd die smiling, I assure you, but you just might be boffed to death!"
"Since you present it that way, I suppose it is a risk I'm willing to take, just for you and your education.' I ducked a thrown napkin. "With my advanced years, I continually stare death in the face. I have to tell you, considering you as his agent, makes the prospect somewhat more attractive than I had imagined!"
Fortunately, Sandra had not been the only one to consider this weekend. Savoring her submission, I had availed myself of the educational opportunities presented by the internet (cough-porn!-cough), and had supplemented my resources with sunglasses whose inner surface I had painted black (functionally a blindfold), as well as several dog collars. I decided our weekend would revolve around a drive up north to my cottage. I told her to plan on an early departure, and we turned in early. My evil plan was simply to sleep with her. Beyond the simple delights of cuddling with a pretty young woman, and soaking in her warmth, and breathing in her scent, there was the highly likely outcome that she would have arrived tonight nearly trembling with excitement (and it seemed that she had). Simply sleeping with her would do nothing to slake those particular fires. Therefore, she would greet the day more aroused, more aflame, and closer to the edge. That would make her more aroused by the day's festivities, and likely pay considerable dividends that evening, at our destination.
In the morning, as Sandra got dressed for the drive, I made some fashion suggestions. "I don't think you require a bra today," I began, "And I like this particular shade of brown, against your skin." I indicated the larger of the dog collars.
"What do you mean?", as she buttoned her blouse.
"I want you to wear it as a necklace."
She reached for it, and, raising her hair, turned to me. "You'll have to collar me, then." It appeared that I had not been the only one researching things on the web!
Securing it snugly, I handed her the matching, smaller collars. "Here's something a little more formal than paracord." She extended first one wrist, then the other, and I secured the collars on each wrist. She selected a skirt, and some tiny panties. I helped her into her long winter coat, we loaded up my truck and off we went. I placed a bag of selected items in front with us for ready access.
The first hour passed companionably. The truck heated up nicely, and the winter coats went into the back seat at the first stop. Sandra sat in the middle of the bench seat, and leaned against me. I draped my arm over her shoulders, and idly caressed her far shoulder and arm. Once we were north of Harrison, I handed her the opaque sunglasses. She placed them on her face, and observed, "I can't see anything!"
"Yep, that's the point. Now, remove your blouse. You need some sunshine on your breasts!"
She began to unbutton the blouse, gradually exposing her rising nipples. Somewhat late in the proceedings, I realized that this could end poorly, as I had great difficulty focusing on the road while my companion's charms were being unveiled. She concluded her task, and the blouse found it's way into her lap. "It belongs in the back," I directed her. She turned her blinkered eyes to me, seeming to frame a question, but turned and laid it on the coat. I pulled over to the side of the state highway, and retrieved a snaplink from my bag. I connected the rings on the wrist collars together, and replaced her seatbelt.
Being the evil bastard that I am, I had planned to increase her feeling of vulnerability and exposure. I settled some headphones on her head, and began a recording I had specifically developed for this trip. It was road and wind noise, and periodically I had inserted honking horns, and sounds of men jeering and hooting. I anticipated that she would be convinced that men unnamed and uncounted had capitalized upon the opportunity to admire her nakedness. I returned to the roadway and continued our drive.
The blue skies and sunshine had a pleasant effect upon me. The effect upon Sandra was even more pleasant, particularly for me. She cast her head about, as if to see what was occurring. Of course, she could see nothing but the inside of the glasses. Her nipples pointed the way down the road, and her breathing rate rose and fell, in accordance with the motion of the truck ("Were we slowing for a town? Was anybody out today?") and the soundtrack I had concocted for her. ("Oh Ghod! Was that a man's voice? Did somebody just toot their horn? How much can they see?") Of course, she moved several times to cover herself, but evidently realized that such a move would reveal her bound hands, and then halted herself. As much as I could, I enjoyed her reactions, frustrated by the need to safely attend to driving.
Hester
- 27.08.2022
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