Examined, Opened, and Filled #4
My back snaps off the table, bowed tight, while my heels dig as far as they can go.
Dr. Stephens started flicking at an impossible speed, setting off a buzz like a steady vibration.
My toes curl tight as he devours me like a starving man.
He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows precisely where to drive me out of my mind.
“You taste incredible,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to speak, his chin shining with my wetness. “So sweet and fucking addictive.”
His mouth seals over my clit once more, paired now with the rhythmic plunge of his fingers, matching every stroke of his tongue beat for beat.
It’s too much, so overwhelming that I’m making a mess around his hand, the coil of tension tightening until I feel like I’m about to break wide open.
I slap a hand over my lips, biting down hard on my palm to keep quiet, but the muffled cries spill through my fingers regardless.
“I’m gonna—oh God, I’m gonna cum—”
“Not yet.” His mouth rips away, the abrupt absence of his tongue leaving me stranded.
A ragged sob breaks from my chest, real tears pricking the corners of my eyes at the painful denial.
His free hand stays heavy on my thigh, thumb stroking over my hip bone as the other works his belt. The buckle clinks open. He pulls the leather free with a soft rasp, popping the button of his slacks and drags the zipper down.
I watch as he reaches in and frees himself.
His cock sprang heavy into the open air, the head already swollen and shiny with a clear bead of pre-cum gathering at the slit.
He wraps his hand around the thick root and strokes slowly, spreading his own arousal until his entire length gleams like polished marble
He positions himself at my opening and presses inward with desperate force.
The blunt head of him meets immediate resistance, muscles that have never been forced before clamp down hard, fighting the intrusion.
A ripping pain flared as he forces his way in, my entrance stretching wider than it ever has, past any boundary my body thought it had.
“Open up for me,” he whispers, leaning over to palm my breast over my sweater. His thumb catches my nipple through the fabric, pinching fir enough to stiffen it.
I push into him like he told me to, giving in as he shoves the rest of the way in, filling me up completely. He pulls back until he’s barely in me, just teasing, before slamming straight back in. The hit rattles the metal stirrups and makes the whole exam bed scream under us.
Dr. Stephens doesn’t ease up for a second.
He lowers his frame over me, trapping my smaller body flat, his breath burning hot on my collarbone while he pounds into me.
My fingers scramble up his arms, clawing into his shoulders just to hold on as the friction between us turns white-hot.
His cock continued to scrape over my sore cunt.
I can’t think. It still hurts, but the pain is starting to blur into something that I crave.
He’s fucking me so hard and rough that my body loses all tension.
My leg snaps outward in an unexpected spasm, my heel catching the corner of the rolling metal cart. The entire stand tips over with a deafening, violent crash, sending tray liners, speculums, and stainless-steel tools bouncing, clattering, and screeching across the hard tile floor.
Horror spiked through me as knuckles knock sharply against the thin wood of the door.
“Is everything okay?” Nora asks from outside.
Panic froze me in place. I lock onto David’s, searching his face, paralyzed over who should speak.
I open my mouth to scramble for an excuse, but David doesn’t hesitate. Without pausing, he raised his voice just enough to carry through the door, his tone oozing professional composure.
“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. Your friend just accidentally knocked over the tray.”
His hand clamped over my mouth, signaling that we needed to end this immediately before we get caught.
“Cum for me,” he commanded in a harsh whisper, driving into me even faster.
I shattered.
The orgasm tore through me like a hurricane, starting in my core and radiating outward until I’m shaking apart, holding down on him in milking spasms. I dug my nails into his forearms, leaving crescent moons in his skin.
He kept fucking me through and through, riding out my climax until a low moan breaks from his throat, his thrusts lose their rhythm, pounding into me one final time before he goes still, softening gradually without pulling out.
I stared blankly, throbbing everywhere.
Slowly, he withdrew. His hands shake slightly as he tucks himself back into his slacks, though his eyes never break contact with mine.
“Your itching,” he says, a faint ghost lingering beneath the wreckage. “It’s going to be fine. Stop using the antibacterial soap. Lukewarm water only for… let’s say, the next week.”
A laugh spills from my lips. “That’s your medical advice?”
“That,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a soft kiss on my sweat-dampened forehead, “and a mandatory follow-up next week. In my office. Or here. Wherever I can get my hands on you again.”
Nora is going to kill me.
I stood, smoothing down my clothes with hands that still didn’t feel entirely steady.
“See you next week, David.”