Examined, Opened, and Filled #3
He lifted his finger from my clit, trailing it downward to circle the rim of my opening.
“Any unusual discharge?” He carried on with the assessment, oblivious as I ground my teeth, desperate to hold back my already noticeable moisture.
I shake my head frantically, a useless gesture given where his eyes are locked.
“Are you sure?”
I glanced down and found him studying the glistening sheen on his gloved fingertips. His expression was completely unreadable, fixed on me with a intense focus that set my cheeks on fire, and left no doubt that he already knew just how wet I was for him.
Dr. Stephens chuckled softly.
“Are you sexually active?”
My heart doesn’t just skip. It stops. For three full seconds I’m certain it has forgotten how to beat.
“I’m not.”
“A virgin… good. That narrows it down quickly. No STIs, no intercourse-related trauma.”
He looks down at my weeping center, watching my body’s natural response as thick, pale liquid leaks out.
“Just an exceptionally sensitive, untouched patient who’s been aggravating her body with harsh soaps and home remedies…”
The silence stretched long with a tension heavier than my own arousal. His words no longer carried the tone of an examination; they carried pure temptation.
“I’m going to have to insert a finger now,” he said, and it’s not a warning so much as a promise. “Just to check the vaginal walls.”
A small flinch escapes me. I’ve never inserted anything down there before, not even my own finger. He catches on immediately.
“Is that alright with you? I can stop if you need me to.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” The answer spilled out before I could catch it, my mouth acting entirely on its own.
A subtle smile plays on his lips, deepening his crow lines. He moves closer, the stool’s wheels whispering across the floor as he rolls in. The nearness makes my pulse stutter.
He uncaps a bottle of gel and coats his fingertip, catching the stray drop before tossing the container onto the tray.
“This will be a little cold,” Dr. Stephens warns gently, pressing forward.
A sharp gasp catches in my throat the second I feel the icy glide of his fingertip parting my sensitive folds. My muscles tense, stretching to accommodate him as he buries his finger inch by inch into my hole, entering so smoothly that a helpless tremor runs straight through my thighs.
“Good girl.”
The praise hangs as he hooks his finger upward, tapping a spot deep inside. I let out a helpless sound that is absolutely not what a patient should mutter.
“Any pain here?” His eyes drift up to mine, taking in my flushed skin and the flutter of my eyelashes.
I choked out. “Not… not pain.”
“No?” His finger angles deeper to stroke a spot that makes my vision blur. “What is it?”
“It’s… it’s a lot. You’re very… thorough.”
“I have to be,” he said, a subtle, dark thread of amusement running through his voice. “I need to make sure I don’t miss a thing inside.”
He pulls his finger back to the very edge, teasing my entrance, before burying it again in a single, fluid thrust. He parts his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching me just enough to make me silently plead for him to go faster.
Out again. In again. Every pass is deliberate, the angle repositioning just enough to brush places I’ve never reached. I’m completely soaked, the slick wetness coating his hand as he fingers me deeper with a rougher rhythm that draws loud squelches from my pussy.
“Very sensitive,” he observes, his voice low and raspy as gravel.
“Dr. Stephens,” I gasp, the words slipping out without me knowing if I’m begging him to stop or pleading with him to keep going.
“David,” he corrects softly, his finger still buried knuckle-deep inside me. “Call me David.”
“David,” I whimper, and the name feels utterly filthy on my tongue.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, desperately clinging to the role of the innocent, overwhelmed patient. “I can’t help my reaction.”
“It’s perfectly natural,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing purr. With slowness, he catches his latex glove and peels it off his right hand, tossing it blindly into the biohazard bin. He steps closer. “Just follow my instructions.”
He’s flawlessly maintaining the medical charade, playing the good doctor unfazed by the fact that his daughter is sitting just outside the door, waiting for me.
Nora… My thighs snap shut on instinct, guilt flushing through me, but he forces them apart like delicate flower petals, spreading me wider until I stretched to a sting.
His face hovered inches away, fanning over my soaked folds, a mock ritual of clearing away impurities despite knowing I’m a virgin.
Flattening his tongue against me, he covers my entrance with its tip before drawing it slowly upward.
The changing texture of his tongue trails over my slit, a tongue that has done this to countless others, ending as his lips press firmly over my clit.
All I could think about was how good it felt.