you thrill me when you drill me

“Good judgment comes from experience, and often experience comes from bad judgment. Rita Mae Brown

The New Year saunters in with a vengeance, so slather me with your saucy slices of salacious dilemmas, and I’ll carve them up and serve them hotter than a whore on nickel night at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com. Check me out on MySpace now too, and any donations will gratefully be accepted through Pay Pal.

The months go by so quickly, and straddling that bench at the dental school has seemed to take up a huge chunk of my time lately. My assigned dental student, Master B, a sweet-faced thing with an ass just begging to be bitten, likes to exchange naughty flirtations with me during each visit. He’ll whisper to me to open up wide so he can get in and drill me, or when he lifts the suction tube to my mouth, insists I ‘wrap my lips around it’, it’s adorably hot. In one instance, where I had just climbed into the dental chair, Master B grabbed for the water hose and accidentally squirted it all over my chest. I teased him about premature squirting and that perhaps that was a window into his performance technique, or lack thereof. And I can’t count the number of times I needed to remind him that I should have the goggles on so that he won’t get into trouble. He shouldn’t be looking at my blue eyelashes… focus on the open mouth, boy! Honestly, it sure took my mind of the discomfort of it all, but since I’d never even had a cavity in my life (now suddenly I had four), I need all the distraction I can handle.

Being that it is a dental school, even the smallest of procedures takes nine times as long as at a regular dentist office. After each procedure the student leaves you helpless while they go try and find some misplaced tool or a supervisor to moderate their work so far. Once under the hideous fluorescent lighting, and three feet away from the next poor sap choking on a new pair of false teeth, I admittedly freaked out. I didn’t just have metal gadgets crammed into several of my upper back teeth, but tubes, cloths and dental dams filled my breathing space. Holy nuns on Novocain, I quickly learned that I do have a gag reflex after all! After a half hour of tedious preparation, with the unpleasant taste of manufactured coconut numbing my gums, and sharp metal pushing against the roof of my mouth, Master B, once again, left me to go hunt down a drill bit. I waited, chanting the mantra, ‘mind over matter’ replaying in my head. When he finally came back to me, the tears started streaming down my face. I knew I couldn’t deal with this. Not being able to talk, I motioned to him that something was wrong. He asked if I was going to hurl and I nodded yes. He whisked me right away; down a corridor, a hall and around to a stairway, and into a men’s bathroom which he quickly cleared for me. Master B pulled back the dental dam enough to allow me to vomit, which I did. That was lovely… but everything was still wedged in my mouth, so I frantically motioned and moaned to remove it all, and now! We scurried back up to the next floor and into my little exam chair where he took everything out and comforted me sweetly.

I had a half dozen or so visits after that, and although none were quite so freaky, Master B did his best to make things better. Several fillings and one root canal later, I banked on having ended my visits to the dental school for some time, or so I thought. Master B called me the next night to tell I needed to come back again, apparently there was some form I had neglected to fill out. What he failed to mention on the phone was that it was his form I would be filling out.


Two days later, when I arrived, still hopped up on Vicodin, Master B was waiting for me in the parking garage. As I got out of my car, he grinned mischievously, and walked over to me. Just as I smiled and turned around to lock my car door, I felt him press himself up against me and whisper in my ear, “This is the way I want you, baby.” I instantly felt his ample bulge prompting my cheeks apart, his hands on my wrists, and my juices flowing down the inside of my thighs. He turned me around and took my hand, leading me inside the large brick building, filled with students in purple scrubs and oral fixations.

Master B had me flustered with anticipation, and since it was late in the day, things were winding down and closing up… except for the two of us that is. We walked down a dark hallway, apparently emptied for the day, and into a private exam room that by the sign on the door was reserved for oral surgery. The only light in the room was from a dim overhead hall light somewhere faraway. Master B steered me to a large exam chair where he sat down, pulling me towards him for a deep, and long awaited kiss. I straddled his scrubs and lifted my black lace skirt to my waist, showing him my metal and smooth flesh. He told me it was the prettiest cavity he’d ever fill, and we made use of that chair in every way possible.

An hour and ten minutes later, we slinked out and down the hall, back to the vacant school lobby. He walked me back to my car and plastered me against it once again for one more tooth polishing. My drive home was oblivious to say the least. That night I slept like a coma patient instead of a dental school patient, yes I did! I have another appointment next Wednesday… also known as hump day.

Dear Mz. Conduct,

I’ve been seeing a guy casually for a couple of weeks. We both just want sex and friendship and we both see other people as well, that’s been clear. We have fun and the sex is okay too. I like this guy, he’s smart, cute, funny and sweet, but one thing he did just made me feel disrespected. After a night of partying, we came back to my house ready to jump each other’s bones. He started licking me and that was really great, but when he put his penis to my lips I tasted something nasty. I asked if he had bathed since his date the night before and he said nonchalantly, no, he hadn’t! I made a big deal out of it and he got upset and walked home seventy blocks in the rain. The next day he emailed me with a vague apology and then blamed me for wanting more out of the friendship and said it wasn’t working out. Was it wrong of me to make a big deal about him not washing and loose his friendship?

Bitchy Bubbles

Dear BB,

Christ on a crusty one, you have no reason to think you did anything wrong! It’s a matter of respect, and obviously he didn’t have enough respect for himself let alone you. It sounds to me like that was a bit of drastic behavior, walking home miles in a monsoon. With any luck, all that rain washed his dirty dick off, but in any case, if he would have handled the uncomfortable situation differently, I’ll bet my candy apple wrist restraints that things would have turned out better. Perhaps if he would have intensely felt the downright shame, maybe asked you to shower with him, scrub him and make him worthy, you would have gotten over his double-dippin’ ass and moved passed it. However not taking five minutes to shower the last girl off before going out with another is absolutely disgusting. And if you tasted her pungent pooty, it means he certainly isn’t using condoms either! Good riddance, I say.

It sounds to me as if he was embarrassed, and knew the extent of his unworthiness, so he ended it to save face. This, girlfriend would be a deal breaker for me as well, so you just keep your self respect and bitch about anything that tries it’s best to soil your soul… or your mouth.

Dear Mz Conduct,

I want to know if you think that’s it terrible to have fantasies about family members?
Pervert in Providence

Dear PP,

As I always say, fantasies and reality are two very different things. Keep them that way and to yourself and no one will care. I sure don’t.

© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez