Doctor's Delightful Checkup

The scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, clinging to the sterile white walls of Dr. Harding’s office. It did little to mask the nervous tremor that ran through me as I lay on the examination table, clad in the silky, crotchless lingerie I’d chosen specifically for this occasion. It was a bold move, flaunting my assets in front of a medical professional, but tonight, I craved a transgression, a delicious defiance of propriety. My husband, Mark, had teased me relentlessly about my annual OB/GYN appointment, fueling my desire to push boundaries and indulge in a little bit of naughty fun.

Dr. Harding was a man sculpted from shadows and sharp angles – a tall, dark-skinned physician with piercing blue eyes and a disconcerting air of competence. The stark contrast between his professional demeanor and the potent arousal he evoked in me was intoxicating. As he began the initial examination, his touch was surprisingly gentle, yet undeniably stimulating. He started by rubbing my feet, sending shivers up my spine, before moving on to my thighs, each stroke a deliberate provocation. My breath hitched, a silent plea for more.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Smith?” he inquired, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my body.

“Great,” I managed to squeak out, my voice betraying the turmoil raging within me. It was a lie, of course, but one that seemed to satisfy him. He continued his methodical assessment, his hands lingering on my breasts, applying a pressure that bordered on perversion. It wasn’t just the physical sensation, but the implication, the knowledge that he was intimately familiar with every curve and indentation of my body.

“You can relax, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “Trust me as a medical professional. I’m simply trying to understand what’s going on.” I forced myself to believe him, clinging to the fragile thread of professionalism while my body screamed for release. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Then, he moved behind the table, his actions suddenly more urgent, more deliberate. The scent of his arousal filled my senses as he began to explore my vaginal area. My breath caught in my throat, a whimper escaping my lips as his fingers delicately traced the sensitive tissue. It was an exquisite torture, a slow burn of pleasure and panic. I felt a desperate need to surrender, to lose control, but also a fierce resistance to submitting to his desires.

“You’re still okay, still trusting me, right, ma’am?” he murmured, his voice laced with a predatory edge.

“Yes, Doctor,” I whispered, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. Just as he was about to fully immerse himself in the examination, I felt a sharp, piercing pain as he pinched my nipples. A gasp escaped my lips, a primal reaction to the unexpected pleasure. “You like that?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Yes, I actually do,” I confessed, my body trembling uncontrollably. The sensation was both shocking and exhilarating, shattering the carefully constructed facade of professionalism. The doctor continued his exploration, moving down the table, his hands relentlessly pursuing my pleasure. The combination of his touch, his scent, and the knowledge of his arousal created an overwhelming wave of desire.

Suddenly, he reached for a small, metallic object – a dildo. As he inserted it into my vagina, I arched my back, moaning in agony and ecstasy. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, pushing me to the very edge of control. My body convulsed, my muscles contracting in rhythmic pulses, as he manipulated the device with brutal efficiency. The pleasure was so intense that it brought tears to my eyes.

As I lost myself in the moment, I heard a faint rustling sound. Dr. Harding straightened his lab coat, his eyes locking with mine. “I have something to try,” he announced, a hint of challenge in his voice. Before I could react, he spread my legs as wide as possible, his rigid cock descending into my soaking wet pussy. The world dissolved into a blur of sensation, a symphony of pleasure and pain.

He began to thrust with a frenzied urgency, his movements both powerful and precise. My body writhed in response, every inch of me consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. It was an experience unlike any other, a complete surrender to the raw, primal forces of desire.

“How’s that feeling?” he asked, his voice choked with arousal.

“Oh, I love it!” I shrieked, my voice hoarse and strained. The moment stretched on, an eternity of exquisite torment and unparalleled pleasure. When finally, he released his grip, I collapsed onto the table, gasping for air, my body drenched in sweat. The examination was over, but the echoes of his touch lingered on my skin, a potent reminder of the transgression I had committed.

As he stood up to leave, Dr. Harding leaned over the table, his gaze lingering on my face. “This has to be one of the best pussies ever, Mrs. Smith,” he crooned, before giving me a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek. With a final, knowing glance, he exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering scent of his arousal. It was an experience that would forever change my perception of intimacy, leaving me both exhilarated and slightly horrified. Later that evening, back home, Mark was waiting impatiently, eager to hear all the details of my adventure. As I recounted the story, his eyes widened with lustful delight. He grabbed my hand, pulling me closer, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The memory of Dr. Harding's touch, his scent, and his arousal continued to haunt my senses, fueling my desire for more. It was a night I would never forget, a testament to the intoxicating power of pleasure and transgression.

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