Relieving the itch of my Indian female dentist in Dallas
A few years ago, I booked a dentist appointment. My regular six-month visit – with Dr. Chitra in a suburb of Dallas, Texas. I remember it was for 11 AM on a Friday in September. Still somewhat warm, but the evenings were beginning to cool down nicely. After settling down in Dallas, I’d gotten started on a regime of weight and aerobic exercises. It kept me lean and strong even in my late thirties. The only thing lacking was periodic dental care. Now that I’d found Dr. Chitra, my dental concerns were almost gone. She was good at what she did. The day before the appointment, I received a call from the Doctor’s office. “The Doctor would like you to come by later in the afternoon, around 5 PM. Can you make it, Mr. Sharma?” the office manager-cum-receptionist, Jennifer, asked me. “Sure, I’ll make myself available at 5 PM, Jen,” I told her. That’s all the better, I thought. It gave me an excuse to leave my office early on that Friday afternoon. With some luck, I thought, I’d avoid all that heavy traffic along Highway 75. When I reached her office at 4:50, I was surprised to see my Doctor waiting for me at her office. Jen, the receptionist, was gone, as was Dr. Edwards. He shared the dental practice with Dr. Chitra and the dentist’s assistant. “Where’s everybody?” I asked, a little surprised. The office was deserted, except for the Doctor and me. Dr. Chitra smiled. She had this nice, cheerful smile, like someone who wished to convey radiance. She was a Tamil Brahmin lady in her mid-thirties. Dark-complexioned, petite, with an energetic, infectious personality. I’m from India, too – from Central India. Being in my late thirties at the time, I couldn’t help having been attracted to this female dentist. I’d been coming to her for nearly two years now. Since I excelled at conversing about almost anything under the sun, I thought we always got along well. Although we were both married and in our thirties, she never displayed any inhibitions while talking to me. She’d talk about the local Indian cultural scene one moment and about her married life the next. “Dr Edwards left early today, Mr Sharma. Since you were the last appointment for me, I gave my assistant and Jen an early start to their weekend. Hope you won’t mind being bored by me for the next 45 minutes?” “Why should I?” I responded, feeling thrilled for unknown reasons. I couldn’t tell what the Doctor had in mind, but this was progressing in the right direction. A few minutes later, Dr. Chitra had me lying down on the chair, working my teeth on the right side. She’d been talking about her family’s upcoming trip to Chicago when she stopped speaking all of a sudden. “Mr Sharma,” she hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you for a little assistance while I’m busy cleaning your teeth?” “No problems at all!” “Well, I don’t know how to put this, but I’ve been having an itch for the last several minutes. The sweltering heat of Dallas does something to me! Maybe Jen turned down the AC when she left. I’m sweating all over. In any case, I’m wearing my gloves and holding a dental pick. I’d appreciate it if, you know, you can scratch my itch over there.” I was a little bewildered but managed: “Sure, Doctor. Where do you want me to scratch?” “On my errr — my left breast,” she responded. “I’m asking you because I trust you and probably won’t have asked any other patient to do this for me. Surely you won’t mind?” “Well,” I responded. My heart was racing by now. “Anything to be of help. But can I first open the buttons on your lab coat? That way, I can scratch better?” “Sure, you may unbutton the top two,” she instructed me. Leaning to my left, I reached over to the top of her lab coat and unbuttoned the top two. She was wearing a light green top, which fit her body nicely. Her breasts were a little bigger than I’d imagined. Slightly bigger than C-cup, probably, I estimated. “Where should I start?” I asked. “Near my – you know – nipple.” I reached for the left breast and started scratching. Her nipple, which was dormant to start with, hardened a little, apparent even though she was wearing a bra and a top. I went around the nipple and gently scratched it. “Is this good enough?” I asked. “Well,” she responded. “I have no idea what’s going on. It’s really itchy. Please scratch a little harder.” “Will it help if I unbutton your top?” I asked matter-of-factly. She nodded. “Well, I guess so.” A minute later, I’d unbuttoned her top and was scratching her left breast over her bra. “Mr. Sharma, if you don’t mind, you can now shift your effort to my right breast,” she said at length. “Sure,” I responded. “However, before I do so, I must let you know your bra is quite hard, Doctor. Should I remove it? I mean, not if you’re uncomfortable, you know.” “Well, just to make your job easier, I’ll agree to your proposal.” She put down her equipment and took off her lab coat. A moment later, she’d taken off her top in one swift motion. She continued to wear her gloves, however. It occurred to me she could have easily taken off her gloves and scratched herself. But it was not the right time to debate such trivial points. She turned, and I unhooked her bra. I gently removed it and kept it on the armrest. Her breasts now popped out and were absolutely glorious! They were medium size, full and firm. They were not sagging, nor were they pert or pokey. The nipples were large, although not hard at the moment. The areolas were dark brown and extended uniformly around the nipples. I stared at what could well have been two ripe, inviting fruits. She came closer and leant forward. I took her breasts in my hands and gave them a light squeeze. I then started rubbing around the nipples gently.