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Please note: When I have a friendly and trusting relationship with a patient, there is usually very little uneasiness in discussing questions regarding intimate behavior and any associated complaints or concerns. Moreover, such talk can easily arouse both of us. With a little encouragement from her and mutual interest from me, the physical exam can become a passionate and fulfilling experience.
In the following encounter, Emily (a pseudonym, as are the other names mentioned) is a widowed, dear friend who encouraged and engaged me in a highly erotic encounter. I hope you enjoy reading about it.
It was Friday and the work day was done. It had been very busy throughout with only 20 minutes for a lunch of leftover chips and salsa, nearly-flat cola and the receptionist’s birthday cake. I was weary and hungry, but at least I had some private time to relax in my office.
As I sank into my chair, I heard a knock on my open door and my nurse, Beth, poked her head in to say goodnight. I have written previously about her being highly competent, very sweet and a deliciously desirable, passionate lover. Her uplifting advice was, “Have a good weekend, stay safe and get laid.”
I smiled and said I would likely be too tired to get off the couch the next two days. She made a very cute, pouty face and said, “Oh, poor pookie, have you been poking too much pussy?” She is a mistress of comedic alliteration.
I laughed and stood to hug her like I love her, because I do. Glancing at the open door and seeing no one there, I embraced her, grabbed her hair, pulled her head back to raise her mouth and I kissed her hard, pushing my tongue through her lips. She always liked me being aggressive with her, and she opened her mouth hungrily, put her arms on my shoulders and pulled her body hard against mine.
I broke our kiss and whispered into her ear, “I’m not too tired to fuck you, my dear.” I pushed my hips into hers so she could feel the growing hardness of my cock.
She looked genuinely sad when she answered, “I’m sorry, but my visitor is in town.”
I knew that to mean she was on her period, and my growing passion hit a stone wall.
“Damn,” I said, and stepped back from her.
Breaking the sexual tension, she asked, “Have you checked the patient schedule for next week?”
I replied, “No; anything or anyone unusual?”
“Emily Patterson will be here on Tuesday for her annual exam, and she has a concern about vaginal discomfort. She also asked for the last appointment of the day.” Beth raised her eyebrows as she spoke, and her impish grin piqued my interest.
Emily had often been my fantasy queen during recent years. She is a pediatrician who married a good friend of mine named Michael. I would see them fairly frequently at professionally-oriented gatherings of medical practitioners, pro-bono healthcare events and many parties. I envied Michael. Life had asked him to dance and he was given the perfect partner.
Emily is not a stunningly attractive beauty queen, but she has a fabulously complementary combination of good looks and great personality that makes her the center of attention when men are around. Her 5’3″ frame is athletically toned with her legs, thighs and ass presenting the picture of fitness and sexual allure, particularly when on display in the swimming pool or on the tennis court.
Her modestly-sized breasts are surprisingly perky for a 40-something woman, and her prominent, protruding nipples are proudly obvious unless covered by a substantial blouse or jacket. Shoulder-length auburn hair beautifully frames her face which is highlighted by captivating hazel eyes, a cute nose, bright smile and lips that beg to be kissed.
My feelings for Emily run deep. For years, she has been the gold standard by which I measure the wifely suitability of the women in my romantic life. I regret that I did not meet her many years ago.
In a terrible twist of fate, her husband Michael died 10 months ago in an accident.
Everyone who knew Michael loved him, and the collective anguish that eventuated from his passing was enormous. The intensity of Emily’s suffering was acutely disabling, causing her to take a two-month leave of absence from her practice and to rely on medication to balance her mood.
I was happy to “be there” for her during her grieving period, providing emotional support and companionship. Although I received numerous hugs and kisses, I regarded them as only friendly expressions of gratitude. Under much different circumstances, I would have been more demonstrative of my affection for her. Now, I was very excited by the prospect of seeing her again, even if it was to be a professional encounter.
Time passed very slowly until the day of Emily’s appointment. I awoke very excited, knowing I would see her soon. My “morning wood” was unusually stiff due to thoughts of seeing her naked. I considered pleasuring myself, but I decided the eroticism of a continuing state of arousal during the day trumped the ephemeral joy of immediate escort bostancı gratification.
My bathroom routine was elongated to assure the closest shave, the cleanest body, the best hair and the freshest breath. Then, my brightest red silk boxers, finest Armani shirt, boldest power tie and newest navy pinstripe suit dressed my body, together with the perfect accessories of belt, my trademark crazy socks, shoes, watch and cologne. I was ready and eager to present myself to Emily as attractively as possible.
As I left the house, I was reveling in that long-lost thrill that overtakes an adolescent boy who is anticipating a prom date with the head cheerleader. I knew it was going to be a great day.
When I walked through the office door and into the patient waiting area, my young receptionist was seated behind the counter and, upon seeing me, said, “Wow, Dr. Pierce, you look great today…like you stepped out of a magazine!”
It was just what I wanted to hear, and Beth, having heard what she said, peaked around a corner and added, “Well, well, David, you are one well-dressed and adorable hunk.” I knew it was largely shallow flattery, but it bolstered my confidence and heightened my excitement.
My anticipation had been building all day, and when my 4:00 PM appointment concluded I had 15 minutes to compose myself before seeing Emily. My thoughts were far from medically oriented, and my mind’s eye was clearly focused on her feminine jewels.
I reviewed the pre-appointment notes on Emily’s chart, and they were not very informative. She had asked for an annual exam and evaluation of some vaginal discomfort that was not described in any detail.
I had seen Emily once before for an annual physical, and at that time my examination and the lab work indicated she was in very good health. As I contemplated the nature of the discomfort she mentioned, I could not help but enjoy the thought of having a good reason to thoroughly open and feel her pussy and “accidentally” brush my palm and thumb against her clitoris while I explored her vulva and then put my fingers deeply inside her.
Adding to my gleeful anticipation, I read the details of her breast exam during the prior visit. I remembered that her breasts were not large, but her nipples protruded like large, pink pencil erasers when erect, and they screamed to be caressed, tweaked and sucked.
Finally, it was time to pick-up my prom date.
I knocked twice on the door and entered the exam room. Emily slid off the exam table where she had been sitting and greeted me with a big smile and a nice hug that was closer and longer than I expected. A very subtle, pleasing scent of perfume heightened my awareness of her femininity.
Her bright hazel eyes met mine and she said, “I am happy to see you again, David. It has been too long.”
“And I am delighted to see you, Emily. I have missed you.”
She was wrapped in a short sheet that is the drape used during the examination. Patients greatly prefer it to the disposable paper drape used by most GYNs. Emily made it look like a formal gown, and my feelings for her began to accelerate both my pulse and my blood flow.
She hopped back onto the table, and I sat across from her as I began the small talk that breaks the ice before every exam.
“How have you been?”
“Oh, getting better all the time. I am ready to start dating again, but as much as I want a man in my life, the whole courting process intimidates me.”
I hastened to both encourage her and to clearly communicate my feelings. “You should have no concerns. You are a beautiful, intelligent, successful and physically desirable woman. Believe me, Emily, I have been dating for a long time and I have not found a woman like you.” For a moment, I thought I had said too much too soon, but I was wrong.
She reached out to me and closed her hand on mine. Her warmth and sincerity were nearly palpable as she said, “Thank you, David. I need to hear such kind words, more than you know.”
She squeezed my hand and gazed into my eyes before she let go.
I felt that she intended to communicate an unspoken message of affection. She was watering the seeds of lust I had been cultivating in my mind for days.
I began the conversational aspect of the exam by mentioning the note on her chart that she was experiencing some vaginal discomfort. I asked her to describe what was going on.
She lowered her lovely eyes and softly said, “It’s a little embarrassing.”
I told her, “We are doctors and nothing about our conversation should be uncomfortable.”
She grinned and replied, “That was a good answer, doctor.”
“So, Emily, tell me about your concern.”
She looked into my eyes and said, “The short story is that I have not been intimate with a man since Michael passed away. I have been using my personal massager for self-gratification.”
I kept my doctor’s game face on as my mind raced, thinking of her writhing on a bed fucking her vibrator and cumming ümraniye escort hard. I quickly snapped-back into reality, and all I could say was, “Yes, I understand.”
She continued, “When I am very excited, I use the massager with some force, and about a week ago I think I hurt myself. Now, I am experiencing discomfort when I move the massager around inside my vagina and touch it to my cervix.”
I asked, “Do you use a lubricant?”
“Oh, no, I don’t really need it,” she replied. “I get very wet with little stimulation.” Realizing the candor of her statement, she looked away as though she had revealed a family secret. I made a titillating mental note.
I wanted to prolong her talking about masturbating herself, so I asked, “Is your massager smooth or does it have attached, asymmetrical stimulators? And, how long and how thick is it?”
My questions gave her pause. I think she sensed, uncomfortably, that she was going to have to answer them because they were relevant to my diagnosing a possible internal bruise, abrasion or more serious condition.
She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in a killer-cute expression and replied, “Well, I guess I started this conversation, so I will tell all.”
My libido began to take control of my mind.
“I use a vibrator that is about seven inches long and feels remarkably similar to erect penile tissue. Its girth is substantial, but not what I would call huge and it has multiple speeds.”
Her calling it a vibrator and describing the details of its pleasuring attributes re-focused my mind on the image of her fucking herself to a body-shaking orgasm.
Wanting to facilitate her suggestive dialogue, I said, “I have a good idea of its appearance and functionality. Such sexual aids are frequently mentioned by my patients who enjoy masturbation.”
“Yeah, I especially like that it feels natural without being overly stiff and it has variable speeds.” She did not have to tell me that, but I loved hearing it. “It is pretty smooth, but it has life-like veins that I can feel when I manipulate it and a very pronounced corona at the tip.” My mental notes were expanding, and my cock was coming to life.
When I talk with a patient about the pleasures of intimacy, I like to see if her nipples are stiffening. It’s just one of the perks of the job and it stimulates the voyeur in me. I noticed that the sheet draping Emily had two clearly discernible protrusions at the tips of her breasts. Her nipples appeared to be erect. I began thinking that our conversation was turning her on.
Deciding to feed my growing arousal, I asked, “How do you use it, and how do you think you may have injured yourself?”
With a growing blush in her cheeks, she told me, “I begin by teasing my outer lips, moving it up and down. I progress to tracing the edges of my inner lips and touching it to my clitoris. When I become excited and my lubrication increases, I slowly push it inside my vagina. I change speeds to vary the quivering sensations, and I alternate among moving it up and down, holding it steady inside me and pushing it in and out. As I approach orgasm, I quicken the frequency and pressure of movement, increase the vibrating speed, and push it in, hard, all the way when I orgasm. That is when I think I may have hurt myself.”
At a complete loss for words, I said, “I see. I will thoroughly check things out during the internal exam.”
Again being sure to make eye contact, she said, “I would like that.” Had I not been seated, my growing erection would have been obvious.
Now I was sure she was attempting to arouse me. Her erect nipples and delicious narrative about pleasuring herself convinced me to follow her lead and offer her some encouragement.
I continued with, “How often do you masturbate?”
“I do it frequently, about four or five times a week. I have strong desires that need to be satisfied, and I do not have a man in my life with whom I am intimate.”
Admitting her loneliness and sexual desires confirmed my belief that she has a strong need to enjoy intimacy again…maybe sooner rather than later. Perhaps she would willingly allow me to satisfy her desires during the examination.
I stood and said, “Okay, Emily, lie down and get comfortable. We will start with your breast exam.”
I pulled the sheet from her upper body and folded it above her waist. Seeing her exposed breasts again was very pleasing. I guessed they were about 32B in size, perhaps slightly smaller. They were beautifully symmetrical with nicely rounded areolas and protruding nipples. Such female anatomical attributes are both admirable and uncommon.
I immediately noticed that her nipples were firmly erect which, I recalled, had not occurred until after I began palpating her breasts during her previous exam. I came closer to believing that she may, indeed, be a willing partner in crossing the sexual boundary between patient and doctor.
I had purposely not put on gloves so I could enjoy a more intimate touching kartal escort bayan of her breasts. I am sure she noticed my diversion from patient contact protocol, but she did not mention it.
As I began a gentle circular massage of her beautiful orbs so comfortably settled into her chest, I asked, “Have you had any pain or felt any abnormality in your breasts?”
I continued moving my hands over her nipples, catching them between my fingers and pulling them slightly upward, raising her breasts from their resting places.
“No. They seem completely normal. They do seem especially sensitive to the touch of a man, and I have missed that, terribly.” Hearing that, I looked into her eyes and she smiled at me as only a loving, passionate woman can. Surely, it was another sign encouraging me to stoke the fire within her.
I began to caress her breasts longer and more firmly than necessary to perform the examination, and I knew she was aware that I was crossing the line that limits appropriate behavior. She said nothing, and closed her eyes.
I then squeezed her breasts, and her nipples resembled delicious raspberries atop ice cream sundaes. I adjusted my hands upward and captured each nipple between a thumb and index finger. I told her, “I am going to squeeze to check for discharge.”
I began to squeeze and pull on her stiff nipples, and I saw her softly biting her lower lip. I also noticed she moved her legs more closely together beneath the sheet. “Am I hurting you?”
With her eyes still closed, she said, “No, not at all.”
I noticed that her hands had grasped the sheet and closed tightly, and her breathing had become heavier, noticeably raising her chest with each breath. She groaned softly and turned her cheek against the pillow beneath her head. I felt she was willingly submitting to me and enjoying the liberties I was taking.
I spoke softly to her, “Just relax, Emily,” as I continued manipulating her breasts as if my hands were engaging in foreplay. I increased the pressure on her nipples, pinching harder and tugging on them. Her face was flush with blush, and she raised her knees a little. She was increasingly slipping into a sexual state of mind.
“Oh, my God,” she spoke softly as she moved her head back into the pillow and elevated her slightly opened mouth.
I wanted very much to suck her wonderfully hard nipples, bathing each with my warm, wet tongue to heighten her arousal and pleasure, but I stopped.
My passion was dueling with my common sense. I tempered my lust when my mind processed the fact that I had better control myself. I needed to finish Emily’s examination, and I did not want to risk her thinking I presumed I could take advantage of her. I took a deep breath, released her nipples and covered Emily’s magnificent breasts with the drape.
“Your breasts are very healthy, Emily, and they beautifully highlight your womanly form.” I never give cheesy compliments to my patients, and I was sure Emily understood the sincerity of my words.
“Thank you. I appreciate the thoroughness of your exam,” she said with a smile and an encouraging tone.
I smiled back at her and said, “Let’s continue with your internal exam.”
As I stepped to the end of the exam table, I asked, “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” and added, “I am ready.” I was about to find out how ready she was.
I pulled out the stirrups and raised them, and guided her heels into their resting places. Her toned legs were now elevated and spread widely apart; I felt the excitement of a child opening a wonderful present.
I folded the drape backward to give me an unobstructed view of her feminine sex, and I was thrilled to see that she had shaved her pussy lips and left a narrow landing strip of neatly trimmed auburn hair on top. She likely had shaved earlier in the day because there were a few, fresh prickly spots. I chose to think that she had shaved just for me, to both heighten her sense of sexuality and to please me.
I sat down on my rolling stool, donned my gloves and positioned myself between her widely splayed legs. When I turned-on the lamp, I was surprised and delighted to see her sex lips moist with her juices and beginning to open. Her blossoming excitement was clearly induced by my massaging her breasts and stressing her nipples. I sensed I was about to make real every GYN’s fantasy when he is with a beautiful patient.
“Scoot forwards a little, please,” I asked, so her vulva would be at the edge of the table and only inches from my face. “I am going to begin now. Let me know if you feel any discomfort.”
My hands moved to her soft, puffy outer lips, and I began exploring and caressing her flesh. Intentionally, I twice brushed the palm of my hand against her clitoris, and the first time she flinched a little but said nothing. The second time, which was more deliberate, I was sure I heard her moan softly.
Her inner folds were continuing to swell, and her secretions were increasing as I caressed her feminine jewels. Using both hands, I spread her little labia, opening the entryway into her vagina. I recalled that she had told me she gets “very wet,” and the clear, sticky lubrication beginning to ooze from within her was a telling precursor of her progressing to that point.
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