Earning a Merit Badge

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Years ago I knew this classy, pretty, smart, sweet, outgoing doctor. Everybody loved her. I happened to run into an article about her recently, started spinning a yarn around the memory of her, and this story emerged. Little of it, sadly, is true.

I don’t have any plans for a sequel, but welcome all suggestions. I can always use a good idea.

Next up is a three chapter tale of a precocious young man who uses subliminal messages to restructure his family. He likes older women, none quite so much as his mother. Unfortunately it will be awhile; a boatload of editing is required.

As always, all story characters involved in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * *

As I pulled into the limestone parking lot I double-checked the clock on my dashboard. I was on time; where was everybody? Dr. Fulton’s office was dark, but there were several lights on in what everyone called the pool house. Her group’s medical practice, located in a large rambling antebellum home, had become so successful they’d purchased the small modern home next door, using it for the firm’s administrative functions. It had a pool, thus the pool house.

I knocked on the door. It opened immediately. Whomever it was heard me pull up.

“Hello Jimmy.”

“Hey Dr. Fulton. Is this the wrong day?”

“You didn’t get the text?”

“No. I was up in the hills this afternoon, hiking, my phone battery died and I forget the car charger. I went home, took a quick shower, hurried here. There was no time to charge the phone. What happened?”

She motioned for me to follow her inside; I did; I checked out her ass.

Dr. Fulton was step-mother to Patrick, a Boy Scout buddy. His dad, now in his mid-fifties, had founded this medical practice and, four years ago, brought in Dr. Fulton. He was a widower, old school, stern and uncompromising, and smitten. Despite the twenty-plus year age difference, they’d married.

When our boy scout troop organized a water safety/life-guard class, she’d volunteered the pool. The rumor was that she’d help put herself through college and medical school by working as a life-guard; several boy scouts had signed up hoping to see her in a bathing suit.

You see, she was pretty, very pretty. Straight dark brown hair cut short, light skin, oval face with large bright-brown eyes, ready smile, and, in contrast to her husband, up-beat and outgoing. Her personality merged with her looks in a way that left her more sweet and cute than over-the-top sexy.

As to the bathing suit, when she wasn’t wearing formless green scrubs she dressed conservatively, fashionably, but conservatively. We all wanted to check out the bod and while at the moment her torso was covered in a wrap, I was looking at a firm butt twitching in a tight one-piece swim suit. Her waist was narrow, her legs nicely muscled and, I was thinking, five feet six inches tall, 125 pounds, 34-25-34 or so.

She led me through the house and outside to the pool, where she picked up a glass of wine and turned to face me.

“Your scout leader called about half an hour ago, said there was a family emergency, he had to cancel. He was very apologetic, said he’d text everyone. I told him I was already here, that I’d wait around in case someone didn’t get the message, then poured a glass of wine. I’m glad I did.”

I looked around. Chairs and tables were neatly lined up, several plastic tubs of life-saving gear were situated at one end of the pool, and a bowl of fruit and ice chest full of drinks sat outside the door leading into the house. Dr. Fulton, who always made sure the gang felt welcome at Patrick’s house, had done so again

“You went to a lot of trouble. The least I can do is help you put some of this stuff away.”

“You don’t have to do that Jimmy, I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can handle it, but still, I’d like to lend a hand.”

“Well thank you, I’d appreciate that.”

I broke down the grill, moved it and associated gear into the shed, emptied the ice from the cooler, lugged it into the kitchen, put the fruit and drinks in the frig. I also took the opportunity to check out Dr. Fulton. As she worked the wrap hung loosely around her neck, exposing her body: nice and compact, good muscle tone, flat stomach, small round breasts. She must have noticed me looking for, brown eyes sparkling, said, “Wondering about the suit?”

I’d been wondering about what was in it, but I said, “Yes.”

She laid the wrap aside, took a sip of wine, and said, “After I agreed to host this course I started digging through an old trunk from my life-guarding days, found this. It was back when Baywatch was in its heyday. People expected life-guards to wear those bright-red swimsuits so the county modeled its suit on them. I was wondering whether it would still fit, so I tried it on.”

“It sure does. You look great.”

She said, “Thank you,” and not bothering to put her wrap back on, walked towards me, took a sip of wine, and, eyes gesturing to the counter, said, “I also found some of my old training manuals.”

Putting the glass down, she flipped halo izle one open and said, “Let me show you.” The pages were small and we had to lean over the counter – our arms and shoulders pressed together – to see as she, using a fingertip, walked me through the drawings illustrating what she called the basic rescue, then said, “I wonder if I can still do it.”

“I don’t see why not. It might be like riding a bicycle, you never forget, and you’re in great shape.”

“Not bad for an old lady?”

Was she fishing for a compliment? I’d oblige.

“If you’re hiding an old lady here I haven’t seen her.”

She laughed, turned the page, explained a few more drawings. There was a wistful tone to her voice. She was enjoying memories of life on the beach.

“It sounds like you loved your time as a life-guard.”

“I did. Except for the emergencies, times of gut-clenching panic and out-of-control adrenaline, it was fun, carefree. The people I worked with were wonderful, we had great times, at work and after hours. You didn’t have to be responsible twenty-four hours a day.”

I said, “Well, if you want to see if you still have it, I can drown as well as the next guy.”

“That’s sweet Jimmy, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”

At that I laughed. “Actually the better thing I have to do is come here for life-guard training.”

She cocked her head to the side, as if evaluating my logic, looked at her glass of wine, decided she hadn’t had too much to drink, and clearing some hair away from her forehead said, “Okay, I’d like that. It should be fun.”

Saying, “I’ll be right back,” I ducked into the bathroom, leaned way forward so I could pee with a full hard-on, considered jacking off (there wasn’t time), thanked god I’d worn loose-fitting swim trucks, moved my erection so it lay flat on my belly, and headed for the pool.

She was waiting at the deep end. I joined her, took my shirt off, laid it aside. She placed a hand on my back.

“We’ll start with the basic rescue. Eventually you’ll learn to deal with people who are struggling, but right now the person in the water should be passive so we can focus on technique. Pay attention to the details of what I’m doing, especially my hands, and always remember the first rule of life-guarding.”

As I said, “What’s that?” she pushed me and I flew into the water. I popped out, shook my head to clear the water from my eyes, and saw Dr. Fulton laughing, glee written on her pretty face.

“The first rule is no horse-play.”

Splashing some water on her I said, “I’ll remember,” back-pedaled away, said, “Come rescue me.”

She slipped into the water, reached me with a single stroke, then, hand on my shoulder to steady me, slipped behind me, slid her hands under my arms and up to my shoulders, grasped them from behind, tilted me backwards, lifting my head from the water, and ferried me to the edge of the pool.

“Got it?”

“Think so.”

“Okay, we’ll do it again, then you do me.”

The second time, more relaxed, knowing what to expect, I dug Dr. Fulton’s body pressed to mine, thinking this is great, I have the lovely Dr. Fulton in a swimming pool all to myself.

After she brought me to the edge she said, “Your turn,” and pushed off the wall. I climbed out, dove back in, slipped my arms under hers, and moved her to the side. Once there she said, “Remember to first take hold of my shoulder to steady me and focus on technique, especially getting my head out of the water. You’re strong, but not everyone you rescue will be as light as I am.”

We did it twice more, she complimenting me and pointing out areas for improvement. When done I climbed out of the pool, offered her a hand, pulled her from the water.

Impressed, she said, “You are strong, and you’ve done real well so far. Let’s try the underwater rescue, then call it a night.”

She turned on the lights that flooded the pool – it was getting late – and joined me at the kitchen counter, our arms and shoulders, and now our legs, pressed together as she illustrated the rescue with her fingers. I pointed to several spots, asked questions, our fingers interlocked and touched as she answered, I felt her breath on my hand.



Thanking god for the receding light – my dick was hard – I jumped in.

“Okay Jimmy, when you reach the deep end, drift to the bottom. Don’t react at all. In an underwater rescue a person will likely be unconscious. To get them up you’ve got to use your entire body like I showed you in the drawings.”

Doing my best to keep my eyes on her face (were her nipples erect – there was a nip in the air) I emptied the air from my lungs, let my arms and legs float before me, felt my butt hit bottom.

Dr. Fulton, approaching under water, placed a hand on my shoulder, moved behind me, slipped her hands under my arms, but instead of taking hold of my shoulders she wrapped her arms firmly around my upper chest and pulled me to her so my body sat atop hers, my back pressed to her chest, both of us at a 45 degree angle to the bottom high rise invasion izle of the pool. I felt her breasts flatten against me, thought I felt her nipples, when, with a kick of her legs, we shot upwards. On the surface she switched to the basic rescue and brought me to the side, then, climbing out of the water, said, “We’ll try it again, then it’s your turn. Any questions?”

Yeah, “What about my hard-on?”

No, best keep that one to myself.

“No, not for the moment.”

I sank to the bottom of the pool, thoroughly enjoying it when Dr. Fulton, cradling my body to hers, rescued me.

At the edge of the pool she patted my arm, said, “Your turn,” and swam to the deep end. I climbed out, ran the drawings through my mind, focused on details and technique, felt my dick deflate, turned to Dr. Fulton, who shouted, “Remember, my back should rest on your chest. As strong as you are you could get me off the bottom anyway, but you’ll rescue heavier people than I and you don’t want to develop bad habits. Ready?”

I said. “Yes,” and when she reached bottom dove in, secured her in place, slipped my hands under her arms, wrapped my arms around her chest and on her firm round wonderful breasts, pulled her towards me, and…


…her butt was heading for my rapidly hardening dick.

Panicking, I moved her upwards, towards the top of my chest, but her rump grazed my erection. I kicked off the bottom but our ascent was rickety and at the surface I, too quickly, switched to the basic rescue – she momentarily slipping from my arms – then brought her to the side.

I readied myself for a tongue blistering.

“Could you feel what was wrong?”

There was no anger in her voice.

“I, unhh…”

Placing her hand on my upper chest she said, “You held me here, way too high up,” then ran her hand to the center of my chest and said, “my back should be right here.”

She had a great touch.

“Yeah, we were off balance.”

“Exactly, let’s try again.”

Did I dare? I was flaccid as overcooked spaghetti. It seemed safe.


When she reached bottom I jumped in (tried not to think about how hot she was/thought about how hot she was), wrapped my arms around her chest (tried not to think about her breasts/thought about her breasts), pulled he to me, her ass pressed to my half-erect dick.

Then she squirmed; her butt rubbed my rod; I was fully erect.

I kicked off the bottom, but, my mind scrambled, forgot to switch to the basic rescue, instead carrying Dr. Fulton to the side with my arms folded over her breasts and my erection pressed to her backside.

I let go, she ducked her head under the water, I thought oh fuck, what was she going to say, heck, what was I going to say, she emerged, opened her eyes, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said, “I’m sorry.”

I said, “Huh.”

She said, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was supposed to stay still, but when I felt something on my rump, I wiggled. I didn’t realize what it was until well, until it responded. I feel terrible.”

“I’m sorry too Dr. Fulton. I didn’t, I mean…”

She leaned into me, gave me a little hug, and said, “No need to apologize Jimmy, it made an old lady feel appreciated, but you still had to rescue me. After all, an erection is not an acceptable reason for letting someone drown. There is one thing…”

“What is it?”

“My step-son tells me you can keep a secret, that you’re not a gossip.”

“I try.”

“Can we keep this to ourselves.”

“Yes, I couldn’t agree more.”

She climbed out of the pool, I followed. She still had a great ass.

* * * *

After we finished picking up Dr. Fulton said, “Why don’t you take the first shower.”

“I figured I’d shower at home.”

“Bad idea, you’ll get your car wet and I loaded enough chlorine and disinfectant in the pool for an entire boy scout troop, not the two of us; you need to get if off your skin. Did you bring a change of clothes?”


“I’ll get some of Patrick’s together, they’ll fit you just fine.”

* * * *

I considered jacking off, but Dr. Fulton was waiting outside. I stroked myself a few times, that didn’t help, turned off the water, pressed my erection to my chest, wrapped a towel around my waist, cracked open the door.

“Dr. Fulton, are the clothes ready?”

She said, “Are you decent?” I said, Yes,” and she opened the door. Like me, she was wrapped in a towel. I stepped past her into the room, looking back only when she said, “The clothes are on the desk in the corner,” and caught a glimpse of her naked butt as she stepped in the shower.

“Jimmy there is no shampoo in here. Did you wash your hair?”

“Yes, I used the bar-soap.”

“Men! Would you check the counter, I thought I saw shampoo and body-wash there.”

I did. There was.

“I found them.”

“Jimmy, are we still operating under that promise of confidentiality?”

“Of course, you can trust me Dr. Fulton.”

“Good, then come in here. I’ll do skymed izle your hair, right this time, then you do mine.”


Her face, dripping water, popped through the shower curtain.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite and don’t dwaddle. We need proper shampoos and the hot water heater won’t last forever.”

Not quite sure what was happening, after she pulled the shower curtain shut, towel wrapped around my waist, I stepped in. Eyes closed, she was letting the water run over her face. Except for a smattering of birth marks across her chest, her skin was smooth. Her breasts sloped to the side, ending with large nipples which, at the moment, were distended and pointy. Her pubic hair was thick and unruly.

I looked back to her face. She was looking at me with a sly smile that told me she knew I’d just checked her out. Placing a hand on my chest, she ran her fingertips through my light smattering of chest hair, sucked her lower lip into her mouth, and said, “Well, did you like what you saw?”

No reason to prevaricate.

“Very much.”

She slipped two fingers over the top of my towel, undid it, it fell to the shower floor. I was naked.

“Well I did show you mine…”

But she didn’t look. Instead, even as my swaying dick bumped her stomach, she stood directly in front of me, her eyes on mine, said, “Bend over,” and worked the shampoo into my scalp. Her hands and fingers, a doctor’s hands and fingers, were strong, it felt good. When done she handed me the shampoo and said, “Now me.”

While I shampooed her hair she captured a handful of suds in her hand, reached down, and using the suds as lubricant, twisted her hand on my erection. I finished her hair, she knelt, said “Would you mind rinsing me off,” and as I directed the showerhead to spray onto her head she licked the underside of my erection, kissed and rolled her tongue on the cock-head, stood, ran her hands through her hair and said, “You have a nice cock. You did such a good job with my hair, would you mind getting the rest of that nasty old pool water off me.”

Filling my hands with body-wash I said, “No, not at all.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

Starting with her shoulders, I worked my way down her back, made sure no pool water remained. When I was done she turned around, said, “Thank you,” and held out her hands, which I filled with body-wash. After she cleaned her face she said, “Would you do the rest of me. You have a nice touch.”

After her upper chest came her breasts. Each a perfect handful, I took my time, kneading the flesh, rolling her nipples between my fingers, listening to her low soft contented moans, used the suds that had accumulated on her breasts to clean her stomach, then stopped.



I covered her sex, the hair was thick, and worked it until she was emitting a steady flow of happy murmurs and moans, then turned to her ass, gave it a thorough cleaning and, feeling emboldened, reached between her legs, covered her sex with my hand, ran a finger up and down her ass crack. Finally I washed each leg, encircling her thighs with my hands, half-scrubbing, half-massaging, until, as the hot water petered out, I hurried through her calves and feet.

As she turned off the water I stood and said, “I think you’re clean.” She said, “I think I am too, thank you,” then, as my hungry eyes openly drank in her form, added, “You’ve been looking for years, is it as nice as you imagined?”

She was superb, skin soft, body lean and well-muscled.

“Better actually, you’re amazing. Have I been real obvious?”

“No actually, a girl knows when she’s being admired, and likes it so long if its respectful. Just a quick look, telling us you noticed. You’ve been good. Some of Patrick’s friends, they leer, undress me with their eyes, it’s creepy. But Jimmy, if you don’t mind, but I think you and I have been talking way too much. Would you kiss me, please?”

I lowered my head, covered her mouth with mine, and I kissed her, tentatively at first, but when she pressed her face to mine I slid my hands down her flanks to her firm ass, pulled her tight. The kiss deepened; she moaned into my mouth and, leaving one hand on her ass, I cupped the back of her head, held her in place, my tongue, moved inside her mouth, found hers; they danced, probed, tasted, devoured each other. I pressed her to the wall, delivering a powerful kiss driven by years of illicit fantasies.

When done she slipped her hand inside mine and said, “Come with me, I have something to show you.”

I followed her down a hall into a small room. In it were an assortment of items, several boxes, and a day bed big enough for one. When she saw me staring at it she, with a burst of laughter, said, “It’s the only one available.”

“It will do just fine Dr. Fulton.”

She closed her fingers around my prick, lightly squeezed, and said, “I think you can start calling me Mary…,” but was interrupted by her own soft moan when, cupping her sensitive breasts, I teased her nipples. She turned into me, clung to my shoulders, steadying herself as I guided her to the bed, replaced my fingers with my mouth, nursed on her breasts, slurped on her nipples, sucked them into my mouth, rolled my tongue on them, moved down to her flat belly, tongued the belly button, went lower, my head between her thighs, kissed her sex, started to graze.

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