Feeling Good - The Story of Sam & Henry

Chapter 2 - The Gothy Keebler Elf

My alarm went off at 4:30 am, but I was already awake. Ever since the one-night stand with the tattooed girl a few nights ago I hadn't been able to sleep. Or rather, I'd fall asleep just fine, but then awake 30 minutes before my alarm would go off with the image of her laying beneath me, face contorted in ecstasy and I knew that further sleep would elude me. I silenced the alarm and attempted to make no notice of my morning wood.

Honestly, there are days when having a dick is just an inconvenience.

I rubbed my eyes and sat at the edge of the bed, trying in vain to banish the memory of her from my mind. I stood up and walked to my bathroom and turned on the water in my shower; no sense in trying to pee, I was too hard. I'd have to yank something out under the water just to clear the tubes so that I could piss.

I climbed into the shower, relieved to feel the warm water on my back. I'd been in the OR for practically 15 hours yesterday. I was on the GI service right now and we'd had what was supposed to be a simple laparoscopic cholecystectomy but things went to shit pretty early on in the operation and we needed to convert it to an open case. Things then got further complicated by the guy almost coding on the table... twice. His gall bladder had been the consistency of tissue paper and was filled with sand-like stones. The surgery had taken 6 hours when it was scheduled for less than 1. I fucking hated GI.

There was a period during the operation when we were waiting on a special retractor that wasn't in the OR. My attending had scrubbed out and I was left there with one of the third year medical students holding this guy's liver in my hand. It had taken forty-five fucking minutes. While I was standing there, my mind drifted and I started thinking about her again.
~~
I'd gone to the club somewhat reluctantly. My buddy Anil was getting married in December and that weekend had been the only time we could get together for his bachelor party. We'd decided to get a suite over at the Canyon's resort in Park City with three bedrooms. The night started out with dinner at High West and then headed over to the club around 11.

I couldn't even remember the last time I had been on a dance floor. Medical school? College? I didn't have an aversion to it, per se, in fact, I sort of liked dancing, I just never really felt comfortable doing it in front of other people. In a way, dance clubs were nice for that reason; if they got crowded enough, then it was hard to pay attention to any one person.

I wasn't really a fan of dance music, but that night the DJ had been spinning some pretty sick beats. For reasons I can't really explain I was drawn to the dance floor. The last few weeks had been so long. My mind was spent, my body was exhausted, and dancing seemed like an easy way to just forget about everything. I hadn't even really intended on hitting on anyone. God knows I wasn't looking for a one-night stand. But then she was just suddenly there, and she looked so... liberated.

The first thing I noticed about her was that it didn't look like she was wearing a shirt, at least not on her back. Instead, she had an enormous back tattoo of a tree with the roots at the base of her spine and branches that rose up her back and fanned out across her scapula. She had black hair, short in the back but longer in front. Honestly, she looked like a little Gothy Keebler Elf. She wasn't what I would call "my type." I tended to go for wallflowers – girls who read books, competed in robotics tournaments, studied neurochemistry. This girl looked like she had stepped off the battlefield of Hunger Games or that she was in the midst of some epic battle in the Borderlands video game franchise.

I couldn't tell you what it was about her though, but I just felt drawn to her. I thought if I got closer I'd get a good view of her face and convince myself that I wasn't attracted to her. I had approached her from behind but didn't want to touch her. Through inertia our bodies were sort of pushed together. She had pushed herself into me, not in an overtly sexual way, but it got my attention. Before I knew it, she was kissing me...
~~
Without even realizing it my right hand had reached to my cock and I was stroking it, thinking of what it had felt like to just be in her presence on the dance floor. Then suddenly, other images flashed in my mind of other scenes from our night together.

Drinking at the bar, her ridiculous condition for telling me her name, talking in the dark corner of the club, taking the photo together and then leaving the club and heading back to my suite at the Canyons... she'd known exactly what she was getting into, but I was the one who felt out of my depth. That is until we started kissing.

Fuck she was a good kisser.

I'd texted the guys to let them know that I was bringing someone back to our place, and they had all sent me some variation on an exploding eggplant emoji. Hard to believe that they were all surgeons.

She had pushed me down on the sofa in the main room and straddled me. Looking at her in person I could tell that she was very beautiful, even though it seemed like she made quite an effort to make herself look tough? Goth? Butch? Honestly, I couldn't really place her look. She wore a little makeup on her eyes and had bright red lipstick and wore a silver necklace with an Egyptian cartouche pendant. Her backless shirt was deep red, matching her lips and sort of gathered at her neck, billowy but with a giant slit down the front. I honestly wasn't even sure how it was staying on, it seemed to defy the laws of physics.

She'd started kissing me and then without prompting, she did something to the top of her shirt and the red fabric fell to her waist and she was sitting in front of me in nothing more than her bra, which was some sort of backless lace push-up thing.

She was stunning.

But more than anything, it was her confidence that was so attractive. She clearly felt so comfortable in her skin. And what skin she had. Where it wasn't covered in ornate tattoos, her skin was the color of cream, almost like porcelain.

My dick got perceptibly harder thinking about how she had looked just sitting there on my lap.

After she had taken her top off, I got the courage to touch her. Her skin was so soft everywhere I touched. Not wanting the guys to come home and find us on the couch, I picked her up, she couldn't have weighed more than 120 lbs, and carried her into my bedroom downstairs.

Once there, she had stood in front of me and taken off all of her clothes slowly, looking me in the eyes, like a lynx stalking its prey. In the dim lighting of my bedroom, her eyes looked hazel-green and her lips looked irresistibly plump and full. As I looked at her, I appreciated how delicate her features were: small nose, angular chin, multiple piercings in her ears.

Her breasts were magnificent; they were even paler than the rest of her and perfectly perky and firm, probably a C cup but maybe larger, I had never been very good with cup sizes. Her nipples were small and pink and hard. I had stared at her naked body for what seemed like several minutes, utterly transfixed by her beauty.

Seeing the direction that things were going in I felt suddenly quite uncomfortable having her be absolutely naked and me still in clothes. I unbuttoned my white shirt and pulled it off. As I did this, she walked forward and put her hands on my chest, running her hands over my pecs and shoulders. I lifted my hand and placed it on her right breast so that I could get a sense of its weight. I wrapped my other hand around her waist and pulled her close enough so that I could kiss her.

Her hands had dropped to my pants where my erection was straining against the fabric of my pants and boxer briefs. She undid my belt, pulled down my zipper and reached into my boxers to grab my dick. The first time she squeezed it, I'd thought I was going to pass out it felt so good. When was the last time someone had squeezed my dick? Sadly, I couldn't even remember.
~~
The memory of her stroking me was too much, I could tell that I was going to come in the shower, so I stroked myself a few more times and then blew my load all over the shower floor. I leaned over and rested my head against the wall, satisfied that I'd rubbed it out sufficiently so that I could piss, but I could tell that this was only a temporary reprieve. If I know my dick at all, and I flatter myself that I did, I knew I was going to be at least ¼ hard for the whole rest of the day.

Maybe the whole week.