Written by Mr D.

7 Jul 2004

My 40 year old wife, who is 40, 5ft 6, pretty,still slim, with shoulder length black hair has a job which sometimes involves questioning professional people. About 6 months ago, she found herself sitting in a surgery, clip-board on lap, questioning two black gentlemen - one a medical specialist, the other his trainee. Both, she tells me, were over 6 feet tall, of large build and handsome. (She's always fancied black guys).Anyway, she had to ask them a number of questions and was her usual jokily confident self. She was, if I recall, wearing blue jeans, a floral top and her short fawn jacket which tapered at the waist and accentuated her perfect thighs and arse.

She got to the end of the questions when the senior specialist asked whether, as they had helped her with their time,she might be able to spare 20 minutes, to help his colleague complete his last medical test - a simple health check up. After a slight pause for thought, she heard herself saying "Fine, no problem." "Then I'll hand you over to my colleague, Mrs D." Whereupon his "colleague", who had an unfortunately abrupt manner, said. "Please go behind the screen Mrs D and undress to your pants only, thank you." My wife says that at this moment she felt her cheeks go red but, still full of good will, walked - slightly subdued now - behind the screen. It was when she got behind the screen that she realised that her "pants" were simply her white thong, the one I sometimes beg her to wear before having sex. "Are you ready Mrs D; we're waiting," came a voice.

Gritting here teeth and looking at the floor, already a shadow of the confident professional she'd been 5 minutes ago, she emerged from the screen, head down, cheeks ablaze, in nothing but her white thong...

The abrupt one rose from his chair. He towered over her and somewhat roughly lifted her chin to undertake a quick but thorough inspection of her eyes, mouth and ears. She tells me she felt like a medieval slave at a market place.

He then returned to his chair and said, "Please turn around. I see from your notes you suffer with your back. Bend over please." This she did, slowly, to her own amazement, her lovely brown-eye barely hidden by the white strip of thong. "Very good; a slight reallignment of your posture is needed. Please move over to the couch and lie on your stomach."

She felt weak at the knees as she did as requested and heard both men approach the bed.

"Are you alright Mrs D?", asked the superior specialist. She couldn't speak with embarrassment. The sterner voice next: "Now, please raise your knees to your chest, so that your buttocks are raised in the air... Thank you, that's perfect." So here was my wife, on a clinical couch, hands covering her head with shame and her perfectly rounded arse in the air, like a bitch waiting to be serviced. "I now need to check your anal glands, came the voice, at which moment she felt two strong hands slide under the waitband of her thong and swiftly peel the garment down to knee-level, as low as it would go. Then silence. Then the snap of a rubber glove being fitted. Then something wet - vaseline? - smeared on her anus - then the long finger, longer than anything else that had entered her there. I still get hard at the thought of her there, her lovely arse in the air; his finger ... not coming out again but staying there for a whole 5 minutes until, and this is what she still can't explain to herself, she tells me, she feels strangely relaxed, reaching out a hand to clutch the hand of the senior and, inexplicably, feeding two of its fingers (index and middle) into her mouth... frantically sucking on them before reaching out for the zip of his trousers and removing, like someone frantically digging for treasure, a long, hardening, black prick. At this momemt apparently, the finger was removed from her brown-eye and vaseline applied to her pouting cunt. (I forgot to mention that she'd shaved it for me the day before - what a sight it must have been, irresistable). She said that it was seconds before she'd worked the prick in her hand to the biggest member she'd ever seen, about 11 inches, and taken the first few inches into her lovely mouth. How she was enjoying this meal. Fuck it, it had been a long day and here was the black prick she'd always dreamed of and ... what was that? another huge member had slipped in the back door. Two huge hands gripped her thighs; two huge hands gripped her head. She lost trace of time, so she says, but she remembers swallowing and not spitting, which is what she does with mine, and she remembers the tidal wave of come first filling her cunt and then dripping down her bare legs.

Tonight, months later, she tells me she's due for another check up, with the same two guys, but at a hotel in an undisclosed English county. Apparently I'm allowed to watch this time. And she'll be packing the new white thong I've bought her.