She wore an elegant white cocktail dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, raven black hair cascading down her back but kept clear of her forehead, cream colored heels that complemented her skin and in her hands a flute of champagne. She stood in front of an erotic painting and admired the flourish and brushwork of the artist, taking particular interest in the expressions of the lovers as they wrap their arms around each other in a passionate embrace. "The expressions are nowhere near as good as the bodies, what a pity", she thought and strolled ahead. Hips swaying gently as she walked, if anyone would look carefully -and many were- they could make out that she was not wearing any undergarment to avoid pantie lines on her dress. This raised quite a few eyebrows and not to mention several heartbeats. As she continued her implicit critique of all the exhibits while being secretly observed by most of the men in the hall, one man's scrutiny of her beauty was a mixture of. "My cheeks burned red. I started to apologize but she cut me off with a smile."I was just kidding you, Doc. I'm used to it. Heck, it's like a skunk complaining if people stare at his stripe. If he didn't have it he'd just be a stinky old squirrel."She put a hand under each mound and lifted. The nipples, thick buttons centered in brown haloes bigger than my palms, pointed straight at me."But they are real, see? Go on, touch 'em. You're the doctor!"I started to reach up, but I caught myself halfway. My hands were cupped. Not professional. I flattened them and returned them to my side."I will have to -- er, examine them -- your breasts (my cheeks felt like hot coals) -- but, first, let's get a few readings. Could you hop up on the table?"Oh, what a hop. "Jiggle" doesn't begin to describe what her breasts did. And "erect" doesn't begin to describe the condition of my cock. I turned away from her, fumbling with some equipment on the wall. "We'll start with your blood pressure," I said.As I.
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