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Scrubs

Ass

I’m a thinker. I’ve always been a thinker. My mother always told me I was a thinker. From as early as I can remember, my mind has always been active.

I thought about everything I observed in the world and asked questions about most of them. All through school, I questioned my teachers, frequently spacing out thinking about better ways to do what they were teaching.

In high school, Life Sciences, Biology and Chemistry were my primary interests but everything else, from History to Mathematics were still of interest. Theology, Philosophy and Archeology were always present somewhere in my mind.. My constant mental gymnastics left little time for a social life, so I spent most of my time reading, everything from Scientific American to adventure novels and comic books.

I thought of becoming a Chemist as a career. One year of college changed my opinion. Chemistry seemed to be mostly settled science. New discoveries seemed to be from tedious laboratory trial and error experiments. I looked into Physics where advances in the field seemed to be from thought experiments that encompassed “Aha” moments.

One look at the mathematics of Physics quickly adjusted my thinking. I became a pre-medical student. Medicine seemed to be ever changing, new thoughts about everything from diet to exercise seemed everyday occurrences. I thought the field relied too much on pharmacology and could use some new direction seeking causes rather than treating symptoms. Studying the human body also had serious appeal, especially the human female body.

My name is Isaac. I’m twenty eight years old and currently an intern in emergency medicine at a hospital in Nebraska. Why Nebraska? Easy answer, I’m just a little nuts about medicine and women and the coeds from Nebraska on the internet grabbed my attention, so, I thought I’d combine my two interests and move closer.

I’m still questioning everything although most of my questions don’t get answers. I’ve moved from questions like why is the sky blue and why does the wind blow, to more esoteric questions like is there a common element to all viruses that would lead to a generic cure and what do nurses wear under their scrubs? Yes, I’m a young dirty old man.

I don’t have a lot of spare time as an intern but this last question occupies much of my time when I’m off the schedule. Nurses are everywhere in the hospital. It’s impossible not to see at least one nurse wherever you look. So, what do nurses wear under their scrubs? Most would answer they wore the same thing they would wear under their other outfits, panties and bras.

But that’s not the only options. Nursing is a physical occupation. They’re on their feet most of the day and work with sick people who are not always easy to work with. The patients don’t like being sick and the nurses are the hospital staff they see the most often. For most nurses, comfort and flexibility are the most important elements in how they dress on the job. Nurses are constantly looking for the most practical yet comfortable shoes, why not the most practical and comfortable underwear?

My guess is that, for many nurses, regular bras can be too tight and restrictive. Their options might include sports bras or no bra at all. I can’t think of a similar option for panties. Almost any style of panty would do, even none at all. I realize that last option is unrealistic but one can hope.

Research in what nurses wore under their scrubs, is more difficult than it seems. I do date nurses but under those circumstances they don’t wear scrubs. They wear more appropriate social outfits and, generally, that includes appropriate underwear. Given the variation I’ve noticed in women’s underwear while dating, including none, it’s not a stretch to conclude that similar variation exists under nurse’s scrubs.

How to find out?

I concluded that I’d just have to ask.

Creating the opportunity to ask was the next issue. Fortunately, I’m a pretty friendly guy and occasionally a nurse or two will share a table with me in the cafeteria during a break or meal. I was sitting at a corner table in the cafeteria one evening, enjoying a pair or chocolate iced donuts and a Styrofoam cup of coffee, when Junita walked over to me carrying a cup of coffee of her own.

“Hey, Ike. Mind if I join you?” she asked.

Ike is my nickname among the hospital staff. When I got here eight months ago, someone labeled me as “intern Isaac.” That lasted for about two weeks before someone else shortened it to “intern Ike.” Now it’s just “Ike.”

I’ve never been one to refuse a request from a pretty woman and Junita qualified, so I offered her a seat at the table. Junita is indeed a pretty woman. She’s about five foot-four, with pixie cut dark brown hair, gorgeous brown eyes and a smile that stops conversation. Her lithe body doesn’t fill out her scrubs and her hips and backside barely shape her trousers. However, her playful demeanor and inability to refuse a dare make her someone everybody likes to be around.

I offered her a seat and she sat down. She took a sip of her coffee and eyed my donuts. “Those look pretty good,” gaziosmanpaşa escort she commented.

I pushed one in her direction.

“For me?” she gushed. “You’re just so generous,” she added in her best Southern Belle imitation.

Junita was a perfect subject to ask the outstanding question of the day. What do nurses wear under their scrubs? Junita was a nurse and she was wearing scrubs. Her answer wouldn’t be conclusive but it would be an important first data point.

How to ask? Should I steer the conversation in a direction that would lead naturally to the question or should I just ask? Not only am I always thinking and asking questions, I’m impatient for answers.

“Junita,” I started. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve been thinking again, haven’t you?” asked Junita.

“I’m always thinking,” I answered.

“And you have a question that you haven’t found the answer to?” she continued.

“I have,” I agreed.

“And you think I might be able to answer the question?” she further asked.

“Maybe not completely,” I admitted. “But I think you may have an important part of the answer.”

“I’m honored that you think so,” Junita said. “Ask away.”

“Don’t be offended,” I said.

“Offended? Why would I be offended?” Junita reacted.

“It’s a personal question,” I explained continuing to procrastinate.

“Geez, Isaac. Just ask the question,” stated Junita.

“Okay. “What are you wearing under your scrubs?”

Junita looked silently at me for a moment. “That’s not what I expected,” she said.

“Don’t be offended,” I reminded her.

“I’m not offended,” she calmed me. “But why do you want to know what I’m wearing under my scrubs?”

“Not you specifically,” I explained. “Nurses in general. You’re a nurse. I didn’t mean to make it personal and your answer is only one data point in characterizing a whole group of nurses.”

“That’s comforting,” Junita said. “Do you want me to just answer or do you want me to show you?”

“I can’t imagine you’d show me,” I conceded.

“Would you believe me if I just answered?” she asked.

“I would,” I insisted.

“But it wouldn’t be definitive without physical evidence,” Junita enlightened me.

“Is Junita trying to tell me she would rather show me than tell me?” I asked myself. “How should I respond to her insistence?”

“I concede your point,” I told her. “But I leave the decision how you should respond to you. You could also decide to not answer at all.”

“Here?” Junita asked.

That answer was full of promise. I concluded that she planned to show me rather than tell me or not answer.

“Here is not the appropriate place,” I told her.

“Then where?” she asked.

I thought that I was learning things about Junita beyond what she was wearing under her scrubs. I thought for a moment where showing me would be private. “There’s a room on the third floor where interns and residents go to catch some sleep when they’re too tired to work without rest,” I suggested.

“I know where that is,” Junita said. “Meet you there in ten minutes,” she said as she stood up, leaving a half eaten donut and her coffee on the table.

I picked up our cups and followed her. I ate the rest of her donut on the way to the trash receptacle.

I arrived at the room on the third floor before Junita. I checked it for anyone else. It was empty. I put the do not disturb sign on the door and sat on a cot to wait. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” I said.

Junita entered, closed the door. She sat on the cot on the opposite wall facing me. “How do you want to go about this?” she asked.

“However you decide. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable or make this more than it is, a simple answer to a simple question. It is not personal nor is it sexual or erotic,” I explained.

For a brief moment, Junita looked disappointed. I wondered what her intention might have been.

“Okay,” she agreed. She reached for the bottom of her scrubs top and pulled it up and off her body. “Tell me when you’ve seen enough,” she added.

Junita’s breasts were incredible. They were small. Very small. Small enough that she didn’t need a bra for anything except modesty. Her breasts were perfect sections of spheres placed tightly on her chest. They were lighter than her light brown skin with darker areolae and even darker, slightly erect nipples. I had the answer to my question as far as it related to Junita but I was in no hurry for her to put her scrubs top back on.

“Does that answer your question?” Junita asked.

“It does,” I agreed.

“Then should I put my top back on?” she asked.

“I’m in no hurry for you to do that,” I answered honestly.

Junita smiled for the first time since entering the room. “Why do I think there’s more to that answer?” she asked.

“You’ve answered half the question,” I prompted.

“I was wondering if you’d ask,” she said.

“I sense some reluctance on your part,” I stated.

“It’s not the best venue,” gölbaşı escort Junita said.

“Oh,” I said.

“If we were on a date, it might be more appropriate,” Junita mentioned.

“Would you wear your scrubs?” I asked.

“I could if you wanted me to,” she said.

“I could just take your word for it,” I said.

“Then, no date?” she asked.

“Junita,” I said. “Would you allow me to take you to dinner Saturday night?”

Her smile conveyed her answer. “I’d love it,” she said.

“Then you should cover your breasts,” I suggested.

“Do you want to touch them first?” she asked.

“I can wait until Saturday if you can,” I stated.

“I can’t wait but I will,” she agreed and put her scrubs top back on.

We stood and faced each other awkwardly. “Six pm?” she asked.

“Six is perfect,” I answered.

“I’ll text you my address,” she told me.

She leaned in and quickly kissed me on the lips.

“Why?” I asked.

“Incentive,” she said and left the room.

Saturday didn’t come quick enough. I picked up Junita five minutes early. She was waiting for me and she was wearing scrubs.

“You really didn’t have to wear scrubs,” I told her.

“I wanted to duplicate what I was wearing before, exactly,” she informed me.

“I guess, then, that I should cancel our reservation at Chez Impressive,” I quipped.

Junita laughed. “Chez Impressive? Really? Does Chez Impressive actually exist?”

“No,” I admitted, laughing along with her. “I thought Olive Garden was more appropriate and I didn’t make a reservation.”

“Not Chick-fil-A?” she asked.

“I wanted someplace with adult beverages,” I explained.

“Oh. Get your date intoxicated?” Junita suggested.

“I didn’t think that was necessary,” I ventured.

“It isn’t,” Junita agreed. “Can we make dinner quick?”

“I’m not in a rush,” I said. “I think anticipation is almost as good as foreplay.”

“Then let the foreplay begin,” exclaimed Junita.

Dinner was energetic and fun. We sat next to each other on the same side of the table and touched and teased each other constantly. We talked about our coworkers and speculated about what they wore under their Scrubs. Along the way, Junita promised to assist my research.

Junita literally danced to my car after dinner.

“Where to?” I asked when we were in the car.

“Not my place,” said Junita.

“My place okay then?” I asked.

“If you live alone,” said Junita.

“My place it is,” I said and drove off.

During the ten minute ride, Junita leaned over the console and rubbed my right thigh. She took my right hand and rubbed it inside her left thigh. By the time I parked in the apartment parking lot, the agenda for the rest of the evening was in place.

We walked with our arms wrapped around each other to my first floor, two room apartment. I opened the door and let Junita enter first. My apartment is primarily one large room with a kitchen area on the far end with a Goodwill kitchen table and two chairs. The front of the room is a living area with a second hand sofa, two chairs, a coffee table and a flat screen TV on a wooden stand. The bathroom and bedroom are through an opening on the left.

“This is fine,” Junita commented.

She maneuvered me to the sofa and stood in front of me. “Now, where were we?” she asked rhetorically.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered her own question. She quickly stripped of her scrubs top.

Junita’s breasts were still as beautiful as they were on Tuesday. She wetted her first finger on each hand in her mouth and began to rub her nipples in small circles. She repeated the motion twice more. Her nipples were shiny and erect when she was finished.

“You’re liking this,” she commented.

“I certainly am,” I agreed.

“Data point for later,” Junita informed me. “My nipples are very sensitive. With proper attention, I may lose control with predictable results.”

“Good to know,” I said and smiled. I also adjusted my building erection in my shorts.

Junita smiled. “What’s next?” she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t think I needed to prompt her.

“Oh, right,” she said. “Your research. What do nurses wear under their scrubs? I guess you want to know.”

My smile said everything that was needed to be said.

“Here goes,” Junita said and she put her thumbs in the waistband of her scrubs. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Why would I be disappointed?” I asked.

Junita didn’t answer me. She kicked off her shoes and stripped her scrubs pants down and off her legs. She stood in front of me, arms akimbo, in her white panties.

I wasn’t disappointed. Her sheer panties allowed me to see the shadow of her dark triangle of pubic hair.

“I think you may have expected that, if I was braless under my scrubs, I would be panty less as well,” she explained. “However, I think that you will find that no matter the decision of nurses to go braless or not, they will almost all always wear panties.”

I didn’t respond. I continued to look at her keçiören escort body and smile.

“It’s a practical matter,” Junita continued. “It comes down to leakage and seepage.”

“Leakage and seepage?” I asked. I couldn’t restrain myself.

“Yeah,” Junita continued. “Men have prostates that offer additional restraint on urine. Women don’t. They rely on just the muscle at the base of the bladder. If they laugh or sneeze too hard, or even cough, they frequently leak urine. Panties contain the leakage.”

“And seepage?” I asked.

“That’s a different problem. Women get aroused just like men. The difference is, where men get erections like you have now, women produce lubricants. Seepage. Some women wear panty liners in addition to panties to contain both problems.”

“Nice to know,” I said. “Thanks for the biology lesson but I think you’re procrastinating.”

“I am, aren’t I?” she responded.

Unceremoniously, she pushed her panties down and stepped out of them. She resumed her position in front of me. I beckoned her to move closer. She stepped up and I put my hands on her hips.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“Research is over,” I said and I kissed her torso, below her navel and above her pubic hair. I moved my left hand to the inside to her left leg and moved it up to just barely touch her labia.

“I told you my nipples were sensitive,” Junita said.

“You did,” I said.

“I failed to tell you that my clitoris was equally sensitive,” she informed me.

“Nice to know,” I said and put my thumb on her clitoris that was already exposed. I pushed her clitoris up slightly and lowered my lips to kiss it. Junita gasped.

“This isn’t fair,” she managed to say.

“Not fair?” I asked. “I thought this is exactly why we are here.”

“It is and we are,” she confirmed.

“Then what’s not fair?” I asked.

“What’s not fair,” she explained, “is that you’re going to get me all worked up and then make we wait while you get undressed. That’s more than unfair. It borders on torment.”

“Oh. I get it,” I said. I stood up, held her in my arms and kissed her. The second kiss was better. I took her hand. “Follow me,” I said.

I led her to the bedroom. In an inspired moment this morning, I had made the bed with clean sheets.

Junita sat on the bed while I stood in front of her and removed my clothes. When I stripped off my brief underwear and my erection sprang forward, Junita covered her mouth in mock surprise. “It’s not that impressive,” I stated.

Junita laughed. “Impressive enough,” she said. “Come closer.”

I moved closer and Junita held my erection in her warm and tiny hand. She leaned forward and kissed the head of my erection. I gasped and she wrapped her mouth around my erection and sucked energetically. I gasped again and she laughed, her tongue vibrating against my over extended penis.

“Junita,” I managed to say. “Now it’s my turn to complain about torment.”

Junita laughed again her tongue again stimulating an already over stimulated erection.

“This is not going to end well,” I suggested.

“I think it’s going to begin well instead,” she said.

“I’m close to the inevitable physical response,” I explained.

“And that’s bad, how?” she asked.

“It’s not bad if you don’t want it to be,” I agreed. “It does, however, postpone other important activities.”

“I agree that other things are more important and I can’t wait to have you inside me. I agree we should get to the climax, pun intended, if we can come back here later.”

I promised and, within seconds, I was inside her. Her sensitivity was immediately apparent. She laughed. She rocked and rolled around on the bed, pulling me with her. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me into her forcefully, all the while exhorting me to even greater effort. She never stopped laughing until her eyes rolled back in her head, her body shook uncontrollably and she cried out in orgasmic ecstasy. Then she began to laugh and rock and roll on the bed again until her eyes rolled back in her head again and she cried through another orgasm.

Soon, I was laughing with her. We rocked and rolled together. Her eyes rolled back in her head again. My eyes closed and I stiffened as I pushed into her even harder and we shared our orgasms.

We lay together until Junita’s eyes popped open. “Damn, that was fun,” she exclaimed. “Can we do it again?”

“We can,” I agreed, “but first I need some help recovering.”

“That’s right,” Junita remembered. “You promised.”

She shoved me on to my back and attacked my shrunken and slimy penis, laughing all the time.

We repeated that sequence until it was after midnight and we both needed to pee and take showers. Junita’s joy continued into the bathroom where she insisted that I watch her pee and then assisted me to relieve myself as well. We laughed through a joint shower in my tiny shower over tub shower, dried each other and headed for the kitchen area for something to eat and drink.

I offered to drive her home but she declined, saying she was having too much fun to “go home early.”

For Junita, the party never stopped. We laughed all night, tried everything she could think of, except anal, sometimes failing, and we never stopped laughing. Junita tasted phenomenal and I told her so. She insisted that I tasted even better. We spent considerable time sharing our tastes of each other without answering the taste questions.

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