Her Finger Inside Him

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


I sat in the lunch room filing my nails. I kept them very short, due to my job. From where I sat I could see Dr. Durbin sitting at his large mahogany desk, writing in charts. His dark hair was wavy and getting long. When he dipped his head one strand of hair would fall down his forehead.

Every now and then we’d both glance up at the same time, make eye contact, and then quickly look away. I wanted to march in there, smooth back his hair and kiss his beautiful face. Instead, I settled for eye contact. Momentary eye contact. Having finished my nails I stood up, smoothed my white coat and went to my office.

“Do you have a second?” he asked, just as I passed his doorway.

“Sure. What’s up?”

He was quiet for a minute, looking at me. More eye contact. His eyes were dark, as dark as his hair, and they seemed so full of life, secrets, interest? Doubtful.

“I, uh, I need a favor.” His hesitancy was uncharacteristic. For years he’d barked orders at nurses, the patients and me until the AMA had published a recommendation on sensitivity training. Not one but several copies of the report mysteriously appeared on his desk and afterwards he became if not docile, at least more polite.

Now he was looking at me, his eyebrows knit together, his mouth opening and then closing. He looked…nervous? Strange. He was always a study in fearlessness.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, getting worried. At that his mouth clamped shut, his eyebrows straightened. It was as if he’d made up his mind.

“Of course I’m alright. I have a request to make of you and if you decline I’ll understand completely.”

“A request.”

“Yes. You see, I turned 40 this year.” I remembered it well. The awkward, half-hearted birthday party.

“And that means I’ll now need a checkup with my urologist. Except I don’t have a urologist so I wondered if you would perform the exam.”

Now it was my mouth opening, then closing. I was astonished. He sat there with his hands folded on his desk, as if it had not once occurred to him he’d just asked me if I would stick my finger up his ass. The thought made my heart lurch. I performed rectal exams every day with about as much sexual excitement as I’d have examining a pig. But him. Seeing him, touching him so intimately. My face was beginning to burn red.

“I’d love to,” I blurted out, turned on my heel and fled to my office. I shut the door and leaned back against it, my heart pounding.

I’d love to? Had I actually said that? I couldn’t have just said Okay?? Or Fine?? No, I’d love to. Sigh. Because I would love to. The man was like a living Adonis. A perfectionist, brilliant, emotionless Adonis. I changed coats, grabbed my purse and told Lisa I was leaving for the day.

Later that night, I sat on the couch, a glass of Shiraz nearly forgotten on the table beside me. Normally this was my time to let my mind relax, stop thinking about patients and their illnesses, their lives and their deaths. But all I could think of was Durbin.

What was I doing? This idea of me performing his exam was crazy in so many ways. Number one, we work together. We jointly own the practice so he isn’t technically my boss, but he did mentor me, he’s more experienced than me.

Number two, everyone in the office will know. And laugh. And I don’t blame them.

Number three, and most troubling, was my desire for him. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d woken up from dreams of his lips on mine, our bodies wound together under the blankets of my bed, sliding against each other in the shower. I’m surprised he doesn’t know, actually. It must show on my face when I look at him, right? Then again, he is clueless when it comes to human interaction.

If he did know, would he have asked me? Would it make him uncomfortable? Most guys would love knowing a woman had a crush on them, but Durbin is not most guys.

I should back out. I should do it asap and get it over with. I should get him drunk, sleep with him and do it during sex.

I decided to wait, do nothing, say nothing. Maybe he would change his mind and we’d just never have to talk about it ever again.

The next morning Kütahya Escort I made it halfway through a shower before I remembered. Instantly the warm water felt sensual, trickling down my breasts and belly. I imagined it was his tongue licking me, wetting my breasts with his mouth while his hands… shit, I had to stop this.

I ran a comb through my still-wet hair and checked for grays as I did every morning. Luckily it was still mostly reddish brown. I slipped on a silk blouse, skirt and heels and hurried out the door.

As I opened the door Lisa smiled and said her customary “Good morning Dr. Taylor. Here are your charts for the day.” We still used paper charts in our office, in addition to the electronic health records we kept in our computer system. When the law was passed requiring them Durbin had said “Doctors see patients, not laptops,” and hired a new admin to help out. It had been another moment that made me admire him, respect him. And as I flipped through the charts I saw his name on one of them. D. Durbin – 1:00 pm. Oh god.

The morning went by in a blur of old men and their problems. I loved my patients and tried to listen to them as long as I could, but in the back of my mind I knew there was always another one waiting for me, someone who needed me, needed to see his doctor.

At 12:30 I grabbed a salad from the fridge and sat down at my desk, stacks of charts and medical journals surrounding my computer monitor. I ate quickly, nervously, barely tasting the romaine and grilled chicken. I knew what was coming, and all of a sudden there it was, a soft knock on my door and his head poking through.

“I’m going to get dressed. See you in five?”

“Sure,” I gulped. At least I hadn’t said can’t wait.

Five long minutes later I tapped on the door to Room C. He said to come in and I grabbed his chart from the wall and opened the door.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Tay – oh.” We both laughed nervously. I was on autopilot.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” he said to me quietly.

I looked at him, blushing bright red. He sat on the exam table in the blue gown we gave everyone. His long tanned arms were unexpectedly muscled. I realized I had never even seen his bare arms. His legs were long and muscular, tanned and then fading paler toward the top of his thighs. Oh my god. What was I looking at? He could see me! I blushed even more and quickly turned away to set down the chart, except I missed the table and papers went flying around the floor.

“Kara,” he said, then hesitated.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m so nervous and I shouldn’t be.”

“No, don’t be sorry, of course you’re nervous.” His brown eyes were warm and looking at me with sympathy.

“The thing is,” he continued, “I’m nervous too.” It was hard to picture him unsure about anything.

“I’m nervous about this exam. I hate going to the doctor.” At that we both laughed.

“But I’m comfortable with you. You’re an excellent doctor, better than me in some ways. I trust you. And I think you trust me. I know you’re about to see me naked, more than that even, and it’s okay. It’s what I want.”

He held my gaze as I listened to him talk, my heart thumping. It’s what he wants? What did that mean?

“Okay,” I said. “It’s okay. Just don’t give me a grade at the end.”


I pulled the stethoscope from around my neck and inserted the earpieces. I took the other end and rested it on his heart, moving his gown aside to show his tanned chest lightly covered with curly dark hair.

“You’re a little tachy,” I said and he laughed. Hearing his laughter helped me relax, take the edge off.

I moved the stethoscope pad to his back, feeling for the base of his lungs. He knew on his own when to breathe deeply. Heart, lungs, lymph nodes.

I reached for his throat, feeling under his jaw for lumps.

“Everything seems fine so far.” I looked at him, unconsciously licking my lips. “Can you stand up?”

Wordlessly he slid off the exam table. For a second he stood in front of me. We looked at each other, me wanting to see what else was under his gown, him wanting…what? He was so hard to read.

“Turn Kütahya Escort Bayan around,” I whispered. I pulled over a small rolling table from the wall. It held a stainless steel tray with latex gloves and a pump bottle of lube.

I took out a glove and pulled it on with a snap, then squirted some lube into my hand, rubbing it over my middle finger.

He stood with his back to me, half bent over. His brown, lean back rippled with muscles, a hard contrast to his soft, pale ass.

“Can you spread your legs a little more?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” he said, equally breathless. He must feel this, right? Was he turned on or just nervous?

I held his hip to brace myself, then slid my middle finger down between his cheeks until I found his opening. I pressed in gently. He was so tight but I could feel him slowly giving way to my finger.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“No,” he said, but of course he’d say that.

I squeezed more lube on my finger and tried again. This time my finger slid inside him in one smooth motion. He gasped, but was otherwise silent.

I felt his Kewper’s gland, small and spherical, the source of precum in men. I rubbed it and wondered what effect I was having. Was it dripping from his cock? I hoped so.

Just above the Kewper’s gland, lying on the anterior wall I found my target, the larger sphere, his prostate.

For a prostate exam I only needed to touch it really, just estimate its size and check for unusual growths.

A prostate massage, on the other hand, would be a bit different. Would he notice the difference?

I began rubbing, pushing forward and back in a come hither motion. Then I traced a circle around it, over and over. I wished I could see his cock, see what effect this was having. At least he wasn’t telling me to stop.

I wanted him so much but I couldn’t just do this to him, could I? What if he came? That had never happened in my practice but I’d heard stories from colleagues. It was very typical for men to get erections during the exam.

Durbin probably had one right now. If only I could find out. I got an idea.

“Should I check for testicular abnormalities?” I tried to speak as calmly as I could under the circumstances.

“Certainly,” he said, matching my tone.

My left hand wasn’t gloved, but it didn’t matter. I slid it down his hip and between his legs, finding his balls swollen and shaved. That was a surprise.

“Turn your head and cough,” I whispered, cupping him firmly in my hand.

He complied and his testicles spasmed in my hand. I felt nothing out of the ordinary, aside from an aching desire to rub and caress them, to find some excuse to touch the last piece, the main course.

I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I had to do something.

“Daniel,” I whispered. I kept rubbing his prostate and kept my hand on his balls, slowly massaging them.

“Kara,” he breathed, my name coming out as a moan. My decision was made.

I took my hand off his balls just long enough to squirt some lube onto it. I moved around to his side so I could reach him. He didn’t move, didn’t look at me but silently reached up to untie his gown. It fell in a puddle of blue cotton onto the exam table, leaving his body, his glorious body naked before me. His sinewy arms, his lean chest and his cock jutting out, so hard it looked painful, a clear line of precum dripping down his head.

I wrapped my hand around it, softly at first, then gripped it tighter. How did he like it? I had no idea and didn’t think he’d tell me. I decided tighter was probably better.

I moved my slippery hand up and down, squeezing over his head and back down, pressing on the spot below his head where every man I’d known had been most sensitive.

With my other hand I kept rubbing his prostate, tracing circles, and with my thumb I could reach his perineum. I wanted to touch him everywhere along this genital line from the glands that created his cum to the dark little opening in his cock where it came out.

His ass felt hot and so tight around my finger. I imagined no one had ever been there before, Escort Kütahya not another woman or man or object, not even himself playing alone. His prostate felt so hidden, so secret, this small spot of pleasure buried deep inside.

His cock was rock hard in my other hand, slick with lube. I gently pinched his tip and felt more precum sliding out.

His breathing was fast, his head tilted back, eyes closed. Suddenly I felt his prostate bulge and spasm. A second later he moaned, “I’m cumming,” and in the next moment a river of white cum shot out of his dick and onto the gown in front of him. He shot once more, and then more cum streamed onto my hand, warm and salty smelling.

Both of us breathed hard, watching his cum soaking into the gown on the exam table. I let go of his cock and it sagged a bit as if in relief.

Before he could speak to me, look at me even I turned away, rushing to the sink to wash my hands. What would I say to him

Now? What just happened? Maybe I could just pick up the chart, tell him to get dressed and to have a nice day. Then I could go to my office and take care my own aching need to orgasm.

As I turned off the water I felt him behind me, his hands on my arms, turning me around.

“Kara,” he said, looking at me with a softness I’d never seen before, “that was… that… I loved it. It was fantastic.”

I looked at him, watery relief running through me.

“I’m glad you don’t think I crossed a line. I just couldn’t … I mean it felt good, giving you pleasure that way, and I didn’t want to stop.”

“I didn’t want you to stop. Not for a second. There is one thing I want though, and we don’t have much time as I’m pretty sure Mr. Neiderman will be here at two o’clock.”

Oh yeah, patients. We had, like, work and stuff. I much preferred the sex fest.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“To make you cum,” he said as his hand slipped between my legs, pulling up my skirt.

I sucked in a breath, holding his gaze as he found my silk panties and slipped his hand inside them. His fingers felt big and hard as he slid them between my lips, seeking and finding my clit. He held it between his fingers, gently scissoring back and forth until I was breathing hard and bucking into his hand.

My orgasm spent I held his hand still, but he pushed lower, dipping his fingertips inside me.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed and I nodded, unable to hold his gaze any longer. I nuzzled against his neck and he bent to reach further in, rubbing what we call the anterior wall until I was cumming again, arms wrapped tightly around him, fingernails digging into his back. I couldn’t cry out, someone might hear, so I plastered my mouth on his neck and let it out there, the pleasure, the surprise, the ecstasy of his hand being where I’d wanted it most for so long.

My body went limp against him, the rush of orgasm chemicals flooding my brain, making me woozy and wanting to hold him. Unfortunately I knew we couldn’t stay that way for long.

He apparently had the same realization. Gently withdrawing his hand he pulled down my skirt and said, “We’d better get back.”

“Yes, I have a patient soon.” Reality was slowly intruding on the bliss of being with him.

“We should wash our hands.”

“Definitely,” I agreed, chuckling. We stood side by side washing our hands thoroughly and meticulously as doctors do. We laughed when we bumped into each other reaching for the hand sanitizer afterwards. It felt easy being with him now, like we’d become closer even though we’d hardly spoken during the exam. Well, it had been much more than an exam. More like an encounter.

“Well,” he said looking at me. We’d finished washing our hands. He’d tossed the gown into the trash and pulled on a fresh one. With a normal patient I would leave now and let him get dressed. I supposed I should do the same with him.

“Yes,” I said. “Everything felt fine. More than fine,” I blushed. I wanted to ask when will I see you again but I knew when I’d see him again. Every day that I came to work. Should I ask him on a date? Would he ask me?

The thought seemed strange, incongruous. We were colleagues, not people who went on dates with each other. But maybe that would change. I hoped it would change. I definitely wanted to see him again, and not with his clothes on.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” I smiled, deciding to give him a peck on the cheek. He returned my smile and I walked out the door.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32