by SheerQueer
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I've never been afraid to visit the Dentist, even though I've had so much dental work at times that it seems scaffolding has been erected in my mouth. I'm okay with it, as long as they give me enough drugs. Ironically, that's what hurts the most, because it usually takes extra Novocain to numb me ... which means more, and deeper sticks with the needle. Several times my regular Dentist has begun a procedure, and I have winced from the pain. Now he knows to load me up.
Several months ago, I was going through an unusually busy period at work. I didn't have time for anything! It was time for my normal dental check-up and cleaning, but I couldn't fit a visit to my Dentist into my daytime schedule. A colleague told me about a dentist who accommodated the overworked, by scheduling evening appointments. That was just what the doctor ordered, so to speak. So I called him. Thursday evening! Fabulous! When I got there, the waiting room was empty. The receptionist said the doctor was just finishing up with a patient and that I would be his last for the evening.
After about 5 minutes, the doctor emerged, chatting with the patient. He said good-bye, then looked over at me with a smile (and a pretty one, I must say). "Looks like you're next." he said cheerfully. He was quite handsome, early forties, about 6' tall. He beckoned for me.
As I headed into the room, he told the receptionist that she could go on home, and he'd lock up. I heard her rustle out, and the lock turned. The dentist strolled in and shut the door. "I'm Dr. Haines, have a seat in the chair."
I thanked him for being so accommodating to my schedule, took off my suit jacket and settled into the comfortable recliner. When he sat on his little rolling stool next to me I immediately took note of his socks and shoes. You know how dentists sit on those stools with their legs spread and their pants legs always rise up? His revealed brown patterned microfiber OTC's, that hugged his muscular legs tightly. He was wearing some very nice tasseled slip-on shoes too. They were low cut, which meant that, as he rolled himself around on the stool, his feet would flex slightly out of them. Glimpses of his heels and arches were making me squirm in my chair. Because I was sort of stretched out, I was concerned about concealing the erection I was getting. He made small talk, as he prepared his instruments. He complimented my attire, which didn't raise a red flag at the time. Men's interests in clothes are reviving, luckily, thanks to Regis.
I noticed though, that as we discussed my clothing, his eyes scanned my feet. My legs were crossed at the ankles, and my feet were slightly elevated. I ignored it. He seemed to be a fairly "straight" arrow. I was wearing my "Power Outfit" because I had been in difficult meetings all day. Looking good gives me an "attitude" when I'm in intense strategy sessions like that. It also creates a little diversion into fantasyland, which helps those tedious hours pass. That day, I wore a dark Kenneth Cole suit, monochromatic shirt and tie, and very sheer black mid-calf socks held up by black garters. The package was neatly tied up in shiny black Florsheim oxfords.
My "diversion" occurs as I wiggle my sheer clad feet around in their tightly tied leather prisons. My mind wanders to thoughts of the stodgy executive sitting across from me; how he might slide under the table, release my feet from their hot confines, and cool them with his moist tongue. Then, someone asks my opinion on something, and I'm thrust back into the reality and boredom of the boardroom. As I opened wide, Dr. Haines probed around with his little mirror and surgical steel tool. He pulled back, gave one of those doctor type groans, and said, "That doesn't look too good."
"What doesn't?" I asked nervously.
"The back molar. The filling's shot. I can take care of it right now, if you'd like." Well, I didn't like, but what could I do? I said ok. He asked if I was allergic to any medication, and I said no. However, I told him how I hated being stuck with the retched needle. He said he preferred to give general "gas" anyway. That sounded fine to me! He assured me that I wouldn't feel a thing. Maybe I'm just perpetually horny, but it's very sensual the way a dentist hovers so close to my face. His body sometimes presses against mine, as he pokes and prods. The sensation was heightened that evening, because he was a stranger, and he was so handsome.
As I inhaled the odorless substance, the tensions of the day started to fade. My muscles relaxed, and I closed my eyes. Through the haze, however, I was still sort of awake. I had forgotten to warn him that it took more to knock me out. I wanted to alert him, but the drug had affected my ability to speak. My arms felt as though they were weighted with lead, so I couldn't even gesture to him. God! This was going to be painful!
I waited to hear the dreadful sound of the drill. But I didn't. Instead, I heard Dr. Haines' voice. It sounded as though he was talking to himself. I heard him mumble, "My, my, my. Look at what I have here! Mmmmm" I heard his little metal stool roll down to the end of the chair, where my feet were elevated. He put his hands around my ankle that was crossed on top, and moved slowly up my leg. He seemed to be savoring the feel of my sheers. What was happening to me? What did he plan to do to me? I felt him fumbling with the laces of my shoes. They loosened, which was a relief. Then there was a tug at the heel, and my foot slipped partially out. My shoe didn't come totally off--he just let it dangle. He uncrossed my ankles, and proceeded to unlace my other shoe, allowing it to dangle, too. At that point, the doctor rolled back around toward my head. Abruptly, I felt the chair start to move. My legs were going up higher, and I was bending more at the waist. When the movement stopped, my feet must have been at a slightly higher level, than my head. There I was, helplessly reclined in the dentist's chair with my shoes partially off. Dr. Haines was getting ready to perform some "non-medical" procedures on me!
It's strange, the things that cross your mind during semi-consciousness. My socks were totally sheer, except for that partial cap at the toe and heel. I think that's what makes men's sheers really masculine. I don't like the ones that look like women's hose.
I thought, "Oh man, please don't take my shoes off. My feet have been in these tight shoes all day. I'm sure they're sweaty and really stink." I've always been self-conscious about my own foot odor. I know guys like smelly feet, so do I. But when it comes to my own feet ... well, I guess its a matter of pride. I had expected to just go home, kick my shoes off, and walk around in my stocking feet. It wouldn't have mattered how they smelled. I actually got off on my own foot odor. But now, this man is taking my shoes off, against my will! He's going to smell my stinking feet! How humiliating! As I feared, I could feel my shoes slide up my arches, and off my feet. My sweaty, sheer clad feet were exposed. There they were at the doctor's disposal; size 11, medium high arches, nicely shaped. Longish toes, but not abnormally so. Dr. Haines pressed his face into my soles, and inhaled deeply. He was smelling my feet! He also bent them back and forth, teased their sensitive soles with his fingertips, explored their manly shape with his tongue...kissed and caressed them as if they were items of worship encased in the finest silk. I was beginning to get off on the whole thing. I wish I could have responded, but the gas kept me motionless. That's why the doctor was so bold. He thought I was totally knocked out.
Dr. Haines was not content with just playing with my socked feet. He had me in his power, and he was not going to waste the opportunity. He loosened my silk tie and unbuttoned my shirt. I was wearing one of those skimpy athletic undershirts, which barely covered my nipples. As I lay there with my eyes closed, I felt the doctor's warm breath move across my chest. I could almost feel the weight of his body as he leaned over me. He tugged at my chest hair with his teeth, as he pinched my nipples through the fabric of the undershirt. They must have been sticking straight up by that time! He lifted my undershirt, and ran his tongue down my stomach. At some point he must have undone his pants, because as moved over me, I could feel his heavy dangling cock brush across my thighs. Drugs or not, I was getting really turned on!
I think the gas was actually wearing off, because I could feel myself getting a raging hard-on. He began to unbuckle my belt as he squeezed my cock and balls through my trousers. Then I felt the trousers slide down my legs. Next, off came my briefs, leaving only my black sheers and garters. My handsome, sex crazed dentist was slowly raping me in his office! Warm wetness enclosed the head of my cock, and I felt his lips glide down the firm shaft ... and back up to the tip over and over. I KNOW the gas was loosing its effect, because I groaned with pleasure and arched my back. It startled the dentist a little, but he didn't stop. He was clearly relishing the control he had over me. The fact that I was becoming more aware of it encouraged him, I'm sure. However, that was not to last.
He went back down to my waiting sheer clad feet. He couldn't get enough of them. At times, I could feel the entire upper third of my foot in his mouth. It left the thin fabric around my toes damp. He nibbled at my arches and heels. Although I was almost fully conscious, I continued to fake it. Hell, it was the best sex I'd had in ages! What harm could come of it?
I soon found out.
Suddenly, he let out a moan, and lustily said, "Shit!" He grabbed my ankles, roughly pushed them up in the air, and spread my legs. God! He was going to fuck my brains out! He realized that I had come to, when I started to struggle against him. I was still weak, though, and his muscular arm held me down while he reached for the gas mask.
"No, no!" I protested, as the mask muffled my voice.
"Go back to sleep" he said in a menacing, yet sensual tone. "You won't remember a thing." He was wrong. I remember that first penetrating thrust of his fat, engorged cock up my ass. The force of it caused my socked feet to tense and flex. He liked that, and he made certain they were close to his face. Darkness came over me, and I was out.
When I awoke, I was fully dressed, right down to my tightly pulled up sheers, and precisely tied oxfords. (I'll bet he got off on doing that to me, too.) On the surface, I was none the worse for the wear, but inside, I had been totally ravaged (and, my teeth still hadn't been cleaned!). The dentist acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
He smiled self assuredly, and said "All done. Now, that didn't hurt a bit, did it?"
As I painfully walked to my car, I realized how savagely I had been victimized. Unfortunately, I'd never be able to prove it. I vowed to have revenge on the hot, Dr. Haines. "Next time, he'll have to endure my own form of oral surgery!"
To be continued...
