Smalltown Strumpet

Continued from: A Room with a View

 

NO MASTURBATING

The sign was clear, yet ambiguous.  Hung up in a strip joint, did it apply to the relatively rare female patron of the arts?

Lola was keen on testing the bounds of linguistic imprecision.

She unbuttoned her tight short-shorts and slid her hand down for a publicly displayed diddle.

No sooner had she done so than a bouncer came up to our table and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that.  All patrons need to keep their clothes on.”

“My clothes are on,” she protested, batting her eyelashes at him, continuing to caress her cunt.

“You know what I mean,” he said, unmoved by her flirtations.

She removed her hand from between her legs, licked her fingers and buttoned up.

“The nerve,” she said to me once he left.

She got up and began walking away.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’ll be back.  Keep it in your pants until then, ok?”

About five minutes later she returned.  She sat down next to me where she was, but this time she turned the little chair around and sat on it backwards, spreading her legs to make room for the back rest.

“What’s up?” I asked, confused.

“Well, your cock would be if you could see me from the front,” she replied.

I was curious.  I got up and, carrying a single in my hand, walked to the stage, gently tucked it in the dancer’s thong, turned around, and looked at my love sitting with her legs spread on the backward chair.

Ahhhaaa!  I see now.  When she went to the restroom, she apparently took with her some knife or something and cut her short-shorts through the crotch revealing her lack of panties.  (Or did she take off her panties in the bathroom?)

She was proudly displaying her very widely spread pussy lips covertly through the split seam of her short-shorts.  The only ones who could see were the strippers on the stage.

Smart.  Smart and sexy.  My woman has a head for hedonistic hijinks.

She had to refrain from stroking herself lest she alert the bouncer to her little pussy ploy.

The dancers all danced for her, as if greatly amused by the novelty of an amateur exhibitionist putting on a show for them.

I, for my part, was rather nervous about the whole scenario.  It seemed to be inviting trouble.

The dancer’s name wasn’t Trouble, but she accepted the invite.  She walked off the makeshift stage, strutted up to Lo’s spread legs, got on her knees and pantomimed cunnilingus.  The other men in the audience wanted to get a better view.  They sauntered around to look between Lo’s legs and well, soon Mr. Bouncer was back.

Lo closed her legs (a rare act for her) as he gestured that we were to leave.

Lo didn’t make a scene (also rare), but gathered up her dignity (what little was left) and strutted out to the cat-calls and whistles of her supporters.

“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” I said as we left, quoting from Laurel and Hardy – a film reference from before Lo’s time.

“What?  Me?!!!” she said with anger.

“I’m just kidding.  But you sure do know how to get ejected quick.”

“Meh,” she said, “I’ve been thrown out of better strip clubs than this.”

“That you have.”

“What now, Daddio?” she asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.

“Now we hope we don’t get arrested.”

“I have a better idea,” she said, pulling me down a dirt road that intersected with street where we were walking.

“Lo,” I said, “I have a feeling your idea is not better.”

She ignored me and pulled me further, before bending over to expose the wide gap in her shorts that revealed the wide gap that is her pussy.

“What good are these shorts if we’re not going to use them for a quick doggin’ session?” she asked over her shoulder.  “Bang me!”

I looked left and right and saw no one.  I will admit, I was feeling pent up power needing penetration after the show at the strip club.  I hastily pulled out my cock and entered Lo from behind.  She let out a long, loud moan.

“Lo, if you want me to keep this going then you need to put on your silencer.”

I rapidly ransacked her raw desire as she gushed girly juice all over my rod.  She was overflowing, soaking what little remained of the crotch of her pants.

Lo knows when I’m about to blow and, anticipating my climax, she lunged forward and spun around, landing on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth to catch every precious drop of fluid.

Swallowing her fill, she dabbed the edges of her mouth where a bit had dripped and she sat on the ground to stroke herself silly as I watched and put away my spent serpent.

Finger-fucking herself, she eventually squirted, sprinkling the earth with her holy water.

Mission completed, she got up, dusted herself off, and we continued on our way back to the street and then the center of town.

At one point she walked in front of me and, over her shoulder asked, “Can you see the hole in my shorts, Daddio?”

“Nope, not at all,” I said.

“Too bad.”

We got back to the car and, as I was driving us home, she spread her legs and was touching herself.

“Lo, come on.  Didn’t you have enough?”

“It itches, Daddy.”

“Well, wait until we get home.  We’ve had one-too-many close calls today.”

“No, I mean it really itches.”

She wasn’t stroking, she was scratching.

She spread her legs wider and looked between them.  “It’s irritated.”

I drove faster.  “I’ll get you home and you can take a shower.  Maybe that will help.”

In my haste to get her home, I got pulled over by a cop.  Out here the cops just lie in wait for out-of-state license plates and pluck them off like fish in a barrel.

“What the fuck?” said Lo as I slowed down, edging to the side of the road.

“Cop,” I said, furious that I was going to get a speeding ticket.

“I’m really in some serious discomfort here,” said Lo.

“What do you want me to do, have a high-speed chase through the dirt road Dukes of Hazzard style?”

Cops know that if you’re speeding, you’re in a rush and so they purposely take their time getting out of the car, walking up to the driver’s side window, and talking.  This guy was no different.  All the while Lo was clamping her thighs together, trying to itch herself surreptitiously.

“Hello officer,” I said when he finally greeted me.

“License and registration,” was all he said as he looked us over, apparently liking what he saw in the passenger seat.

I reached in front of Lo to the glove compartment to grab the papers.

“Hi officer,” said Lo, flirtatiously, but clearly agitated.

“Ma’am,” was all he said.

He took the papers and just as slowly as he had walked to the car, he walked back to his cruiser.

Lo spread her legs and began rubbing, slapping, and smacking her pussy to make the itching go away.  She was getting distressed rapidly.

“I can’t take this!  I don’t know what’s happening!  Look!” she said, swiveling in her seat toward me and spreading her legs.  Her entire pussy was swollen with red irritation.  So were her knees.  “I must have sat in poison ivy!!!”

I was very concerned.  Where was that cop?

“We have to go to the hospital, not home,” said Lo, pleading and commanding simultaneously.

Finally the cop came back and gave me a $75.00 ticket.

I took it from him and asked, “Can you tell me the fastest way to get to a hospital?”

“What?”

“We need to go to the hospital right away.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Lo,” I said, “Do you want to show the officer?”

Lo turned toward me again and spread her legs showing her poisoned pussy.

There was a lot of information for the cop to take in at once: the ripped shorts, Lola flashing him, the inflamed pussy.  But he took it in stride and simply said, “Follow me.”  (I wondered if he was wearing a bodycam that would broadcast to headquarters Lo’s exposing herself.)

He was no longer sauntering.  He got in his patrol car quickly and drove so fast that I was hardly able to keep up.

In about fifteen minutes we were at the emergency entrance to the little local hospital.  Lo jumped out of the car as I thanked the officer.

“What happened to her?” he asked.

“We were out on a hike and, I guess she fell into some poison ivy.”

“Naked?”

“No, she was wearing shorts.”

He looked puzzled.

“Hey,” he said.  “You can forget about that speeding ticket.  I’ll revoke it when I get back to the station.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised.  “Thanks a lot.  For everything!”

I parked the car and went into the emergency room waiting area.  I found Lo sitting and squirming in her seat.

“You checked in?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the wait time?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

She was going out of her mind and my questions weren’t helping.

Finally a nurse escorted us to a little examination room that was cordoned off from the others by a thin blue curtain hanging from a bar that made three sides of a rectangle around us.

“Please remove your clothes and get into this,” said the nurse, handing Lo a blue hospital gown.

Lo couldn’t take off her clothes fast enough.  Down went the shorts, up went the shirt.  She spread her legs and began smacking her pussy.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration.  “Get me a wet towel.  Cold water.”

“That might make it worse,” I cautioned.

“Shut up and do it!”

There was no debate.  I followed her instructions and gave her the wet paper towel.  She placed it over her pussy.

“Does that help?” I asked.

“A little.  Where is that doctor?”

We waited for what felt like an interminably long time before the doctor finally arrived to examine Lo.

“Is it ok if I’m here?” I asked, not wanting to overstep my bounds.

“Are you her father?” he asked, stupidly.

“He’s my lover,” said Lo.

I was tempted to add, “And father,” but I refrained.  No time for jokes.

“If it’s ok with the patient, then you can stay,” he said, embarrassed.  “So, what brings you here today?” he asked.

Lo hiked up her flimsy hospital gown and spread her legs.  The doctor looked.  “Not usually this swollen, I take it?” he asked.

“No!” said Lo, insulted.

The doctor put on rubber gloves.  I noticed he wore a wedding band.  “May I?” he asked, moving in to touch Lo down there.

I have to admit, I was hard.  Very hard.

He used his thumb to spread her pussy lips and look very, very carefully.

Lo tried to assist him by offering her professional opinion.  “I think it’s poison ivy.”

“Hmmmm,” said the doctor.  “Is it anywhere else?”

“A little on my knees,” said Lo.

The doctor looked at Lo’s knees.

“Do you mind removing the gown?” he asked.  “I’d like to see if it is anywhere else.”

Lo complied.  Standing naked in front of the doctor he looked her over.  It seemed he was examining her more as a man than a man of medicine.

He had her turn around and bend over.  He looked carefully between her ass cheeks.  It was rather degrading to Lo.  Infantilizing.

She turned back around to face the doctor and sat down, naked still.

“Were you in the woods?” he asked.

I was curious as to how Lo would answer this one.

“We went for a walk through the woods, yes,” she said.  “At one point we sat down on the grass.”

“Do you have any rash?” asked the doctor of me.

“No, none.”

“Just you?” he asked of Lo, rhetorically.  “And only, er, there and on your knees?  That is odd.”

Lo was losing her patience.  Not a patient patient, you might say.

“Yeah, well, how I got it isn’t important.  How are we going to treat it?  It’s painful.”

“Painful?”

“Yes.”

“Itchy?”

“A little.”

“How long ago were you, uh, sitting in the grass?”

“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so ago.”

“Well, it’s not poison ivy.  That would take about a day to appear.  My guess is poison nettles.”

“Is that bad?” asked Lo as if being given a terminal diagnosis.  “I never heard of poison nettles.”

“Very common around these parts.  Never saw a case like this though,” he said, looking at Lo’s pussy.

“What can you do about it?”

“Well, normally I’d say soap and water and let it run its course.”

“I can’t even walk!” shrieked Lo in horror.  “There has to be something.”

“An oral steroid will work pretty fast.  But just to make sure it works, do you mind if I take a photo as a before comparison?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.

“Go ahead,” said Lo, spreading her legs and using both hands to pull her pussy lips wide apart.

“And one from behind, to make sure it doesn’t spread to the anus,” he said, trying to sound clinical.

Lo got up, turned around, bent over, and spread her butt cheeks for him to snap a few photos.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving us alone.

“That was weird, right?” I asked Lo.

“Yes,” agreed Lo, back to scratching and slapping her pussy, now that the doctor was gone.

“He used his own phone to take a photo.  And one from behind.”

“Whatever,” she said, dismissively.  “I’ll give him the blog address if he’s that into me.  Whatever it takes to have this go away!”

“I bet he’s jackin’ off to your photos in his office right now,” I said.

“I don’t really care,” she said, putting her hospital gown on.

We waited.  Lo grew more distressed at her discomfort.  She spread her legs and began slapping her pussy.  She was hoping the pain would replace the itch.  As she was busy between her legs a nurse walked in.  She was taken by surprise when she saw me sitting next to Lo and Lo going to town on her twat.  Lo looked up at the startled woman with an angry countenance and said, “Poison nettles,” and continued slapping the puffy petals.

The nurse disappeared as quickly as she had entered.  Apparently she had forgotten whatever it was she had to do there.

A few moments later a different doctor walked in.  He introduced himself as a specialist from dermatology.  He said the previous doctor wanted him to render a second opinion on the rash.  “Do you mind if I see it?” he asked, clearly aware of what part of Lo’s body was affected.

Lo spread her legs yet again.

The doctor made all sorts of thoughtful, considered grunts and moans.  “Hmmmm, ah.  Yes.  Hmmm.  I see.  Anything on the back or chest?  If there is a rash on the chest it could indicate a severe allergy.  May I check?”

Lo removed her gown again and brought her breasts within kissing range of the doctor’s face.  He looked them over carefully.  “Well, that is good,” he finally said, “appears to be confined to the. . . uh. . . lower parts.”

“May I put on my gown or did you want to check my ass?” asked Lo.  “The other doctor checked my ass.  Wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread to my anus.”

“Does your anus itch?” asked the doctor.

“No, not really.”

“Well, if you want me to check it out, I will.”

Lo turned around and bent over.

“May I?” asked the doctor before grabbing her ass cheeks.

“Go right ahead.”

He spread her ass cheeks wide and, as she was bent over, he asked, “It itches here?”  He touched her vulva with his fingers.  Notably, he wasn’t wearing gloves, but he too was wearing a wedding band.

“Yes.  It stings a bit there.”

“And here?” he asked as he slid his fingers to the back of her pussy.

“Yes,” she said over her shoulder.

“But nothing here,” he said, running his fingertips gently around Lo’s anus.

“No.”

“That’s good,” he said, letting go of her ass.  “You may turn around.”

“Do you also want a photo?” asked Lo.

“What?  Uh, no.  That is not necessary.”

“Because the other doctor has a few?”

“Yes, yes.”

“He showed you?”

“No, he didn’t,” said the doctor, blushing.

“Will a third doctor need to see me?  Maybe all the male doctors of the hospital would like to render an opinion?”

At this point I couldn’t tell if Lo was sarcastically calling out the doctor’s unprofessional voyeurism or if she was letting her fantastically erotic imagination run wild.

“That won’t be necessary,” said the doctor.  “I’ll just go consult with my colleague and we’ll get you a prescription.”

“This town is full of sexually frustrated men,” said Lo to me when we were alone again.  “And I have to pee,” she added.

“There has to be a bathroom close by.”

“B-R-B,” she said, getting up and leaving our little semi-private area, walking down the hall with her butt crack exposed by the hospital gown.

When she returned, I asked her, “Did you really have to pee or did you just want to put on a little show?”

“A little from column A and a little from column B.”

She laid down on her side, her rear exposed by the skimpy hospital gown in the back.

Another nurse popped in and saw Lo’s rear.  She looked at me.  “The doctor will be right here,” she said.  She looked at Lo and asked me, “Is she ok?”

“Yes,” I said, “just recovering from overexposure.”

The nurse looked puzzled and disappeared.

Lo sat up and said, “More people have seen my ass here than in our books.”

“That’s not true,” I said, my pride bruised by the comment.  “I know, on good authority, that your ass has been seen by thousands.”

“Give it some time,” replied Lo.

Now both doctors returned to our room.

“Amazing attention you’re getting, Lo,” I said.  “Does your staff treat everyone this way or is this a particularly extraordinary case of poison pussy?” I asked the doctors.  They chuckled.

“Here is the prescription said the first doctor,” handing me the note.

“And here is an ointment that should cool down and numb the stinging and itching pretty quickly,” he said, passing it to Lola.

“Can I apply it right now?” she asked, eagerly taking the small tube from him.

“Yes.”

Before either of the doctors could leave, Lo removed the cap and looked up at them.  “How much should I use?”

“About enough to cover the tip of your finger should do it,” said the doctor.

Lo squeezed out the white cream that looked like toothpaste and applied it to her fingertip.  She then spread her legs and smeared it all around the labia.

“Is it for external use only?  Cause it itches inside a bit too.”

“Do you mind,” said the doctor, “if I show you how you can apply it to the sensitive region?”

“Not at all.”

The doctor then put a dab on his fingertip and rubbed the ointment up and down Lo’s pussy lips, careful not to penetrate.  “I’d recommend not going any deeper than that,” he said.

Lo was moaning, “MMMMmmmmm, that feels good.  Tingly.  Can you apply some to my anus, doctor?  It’s beginning to itch too.”

Lo lifted her legs higher, exposing her behind to both doctors.  The doctor ran his finger around her sphincter.  “How’s that?”

“Much better,” moaned Lo seductively.  “So, nothing internal?”

“No, not with this.  I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“If it itches internally?” asked Lo.

“Well, KY jelly or lube is fine.  It may help cool it down.”

“You’ll take care of me?” Lo asked, looking at me.  I could almost hear her say, “Daddy.”

“Yes, Lo.  I’ll try to be as attentive as these good doctors.”

She smiled.  She spread her legs again and asked, “Did you get all the affected areas?”

The doctor applied a tad bit more of the cream to his fingertip and began to apply it to her clit.  Big mistake.

I saw her look up at me.  She bit her lower lip.  I saw her hands tense up and her nails dig into the backs of her legs.

Suddenly, Lo squirted a laser-like shot directly onto her tits.  It was a strange shot since she was contorted with her legs being held by her arms and her anus exposed.

“Wow!” remarked the doctor who was standing up, breaking with his professional demeanor.

“Whoops!” squealed Lo, playfully, “I sometimes do that.”

She let her legs down and as she did so, another squirt shot out and got the doctor in front of her, right on his chest.

“I can’t control it.  Honestly!” she said defensively.

“It’s ok,” said the good doctor, calmly, yet taking a couple of steps back.

“I’ve just been rubbing it all day and so now it’s. . .”

She squirted a third time on the white tile floor, making a puddle.  This time she didn’t try to stop.  It was a lot.  Her head went back and she said, “Fuuuuuuck!”  Since we weren’t cut off from the rest of the emergency room by real walls, I’m sure those in the immediate vicinity could hear her.

“Well,” said one of the doctor as he wiped down his tie, “if that will be all, we’ll get going.”

“Thank you.  Thank you both,” said Lo, a smile on her face clearly apparent even under her mask, her legs pressed together over the mess she had made.  She batted her eyelashes at the two doctors flirtatiously.  I passed her a few tissues to wipe down her chest.

The doctors lingered to watch her do this.  She dried herself off and then reached in her bag and pulled out a magazine.

“I can tell that you both are two very ethical men of science,” began Lo.  I was wondering where she was going with this.  “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading this magazine I happen to have found in the waiting room of the hospital?  There’s a fascinating article in it on nymphomania.  Actually, I have more than just a casual interest in this subject and I’d be very interested to get your professional opinions on it and the claims made in the article.”  She passed one of the doctors a copy of Ethical Non-Monogamy.  An article I had written about Lola was featured with a spread of her.  It was called, “A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition.”  Lo found a pen next to her on the small table and carefully wrote her email address, downloladown@gmail.com, on the back cover of the magazine.

The doctors left, magazine in hand like a consolation prize.

“Lo,” I said disapprovingly.  “You are bad.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”  She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it’s all beyond her control – the exhibitionism, the squirting, the flirting, the manipulation.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before they call the cops on you.”

“I didn’t do anything illegal.  Why would they call the cops?”

“Carrying a concealed weapon.”

“I’m naked, what could I possibly carry that’s concealed?”

“Your dirty mind!”

“Well, you would get me off, wouldn’t you Daddy?”

“I think it would take me and the rest of the town to get you off completely.”

“Well, let’s get home and you can examine the body of evidence.”

It was getting dark as we drove to John’s home where she had me wait on her hand-and-foot through her convalescence.

[To be continued. . . ]