A Doctor's Dream Ch. 01

Up until this point, the highlight of my day has been the sight of her gorgeous tits covered with drool, but I have a feeling that is about to change.

She pulls my hand toward her face, taking my two extended fingers into her mouth more deeply than I expect. It is delightfully humid and soft inside. Her tongue feels like a warm sponge moving under my fingers. Her lips softly encircle my second knuckles and then re-open as she pulls my fingers deeper.

"Don't forget to cover your bottom teeth with your tongue, and no biting," I admonish her.

She pulls my fingers all the way out and shoots me a smile. She reopens her mouth and makes a point of showing me her tongue as it spreads out to cover the white arc of her lower teeth. Then she pulls my hand again, taking my fingers into her mouth. This time she tries a little harder. I can feel my fingertips graze the back of her throat while her protruding tongue moistens my palm near the base of my fingers.

I allow this to continue for a minute, and she begins to gain some confidence. At the deepest point I can feel the entrance to her throat being prodded by my fingertips, but she stops short of actually opening it for me. It is time for me to take some initiative, so I move one foot forward next to her pillow and place my left hand behind her neck. The next time she pulls my fingers into her mouth, I press my hands together, forcing my two fingers deeper. She gags, but only a little. I hold my hand there, maintaining slight pressure. A drop of drool leaks out from her bottom lip. I release her and withdraw my fingers. They are soaking wet.

"Don't swallow your spit," I advise her. "Keep it all in your mouth."

"Okay," she says between breaths.

I straighten out my other two fingers and gather all four together into a single thick shank.

"Again," I say.

She drops one hand from my wrist and lets the other go limp, barely holding on. I ease my four clustered fingertips into her mouth. She glances up at me nervously. With my other hand on the back of her neck I press her head forward onto my fingers. All four are deep inside now; leaving only my largest knuckles visible outside her lips. Her jaw is stretched wide and her lips are tight against my skin all the way around except beneath, where her tongue dutifully protrudes. I press my fingertips against her throat and wait.

Her saliva starts flowing again. Even her eyes are moistening.

"Open," I whisper.

I push a little harder and suddenly her throat opens. My hand slips forward, knuckles disappearing past her lips. Inside it feels absolutely wonderful -- her throat is a tight, rhythmically squeezing little orifice massaging my two longest fingers in its gagging grip. Her hands immediately grab my wrist, pushing me away. I resist, holding steady and savoring three or four more delightful constrictions around my fingertips. Then I ease my hand out of her mouth. She coughs once. Drool drips off her chin, decorating her body again.

"Oh my God," she says hoarsely, before wiping her mouth.

"That was nice," I say, being honest; aware that my cock has suddenly gotten fat beneath my trousers.

"Really? But I gagged."

"I know, but it felt great. Like I told you, you may always gag. The trick is to learn to manage it... so you can open your throat like that whenever you want."

"I don't know if I can. It feels really crazy, like I'm choking."

"Trust me. If what I just felt is any indication, whoever your future man is, he's going to love that."

Her eyes light up: "Really?"

I smile, adding: "As long as you don't bite him."

She smiles too, and then cautiously tugs my hand back in.

Several more times I pop my longest fingers through that delightful orifice and let her gag against them. When I eventually get all four fingertips wedged into her throat my self control evaporates. I become more aggressive, pumping up and down, going deeper and staying there longer, building the intensity until eventually I am pistoning her open mouth with my hand, leaving only my thumb outside and barely giving her a chance to breathe. I revel in depravity of it.

Her mouth feels like it was built for this: the way her gag reflex softens under abuse to a gentle rhythmic squeezing, the way the base of her tongue pulses against the meat of my fingers, the way her soft lips stretch around my hand, the way her entire palate floods with so much saliva that it seeps from both corners of her mouth in continuous threads. It is almost unreal. My groin throbs. It is no great leap to imagine how amazing it would feel to have my cock in there, relentlessly penetrating her throat over and over again. I desperately wish I could drop my pants and give her the first serious throat-fucking of her life... she so richly deserves it.

But I relent. All that must wait.

I yank my dripping hand out of her mouth and back away, stumbling up against the exam table for support. She is too overwhelmed, I hope, to notice that I, too, am panting for breath. Her face is a mess of drool mixed with tears from her watering eyes. Even her nose sounds congested. Her tits, which had been bouncing beautifully to the rhythm of my hand a moment ago, are slathered in wetness. A waterfall of drool hangs from her chin, adding to the stream descending toward her panties. I concentrate on making a permanent mental record of the way she looks right now.

She looks at me through watery eyes and asks: "Was I doing it right?"

It is all I can do not to faint. "Yes," I stammer, worried my enthusiasm will be obvious if I say any more. Reluctantly I fetch another towel from the cupboard so she can mop up her face.

She hesitates after accepting it though, saying: "I tried really hard not to bite. Is your hand okay?"

I had completely forgotten. "Yes, yes, you did fine. I didn't feel any teeth at all." I look at my right hand, and it is true that I can't remember feeling her teeth at all. There are no marks or scrapes, not even on the back of my hand which had been rubbing against her top front teeth. Unbelievable.

While Jessica cleans herself up she cannot stop talking about her newfound talent. She tells me how she is going to practice at home with the handle of her toothbrush, and maybe a carrot too. Etcetera, etcetera. I turn away to face the cabinets, trying to think about something else so that my erection will subside.

I occupy myself with getting the camera scope ready. Taking a shortcut, I simply dip the tip of the scope directly into the tub of jelly lubricant. I know her mouth is so wet there is no need for more. She is still talking excitedly when I turn back around to face her, this time with the scope aimed at the ceiling like a very long pistol.

"It's time," is all I say.

She shuts up. Her newfound enthusiasm appears to waver.

Actually though, the scoping of her throat proceeds with very little drama. The stem of the probe is so much narrower than my clustered fingers that she takes it with comparative ease. I still need to hold her in position, like before, but I am able to get several deep penetrations completed down to the 12-inch mark, giving me more than enough video footage to analyze later. From what I can see on the screen, her throat is healthy and clean as a whistle.

When I announce that we are done, she does a little celebratory dance from her kneeling position -- rocking her hips side to side, swinging her ponytail, hands in the air with a wide grin across her face. Her tits bounce around as though she were dancing on a balcony at Mardi-Gras.

This girl is a trip, I think to myself.

* * * * *

We still have two more stages of Jessica's medical to complete, and I am looking forward to both.

I help her up from her kneeling position, and retrieve the pillow from the floor. I toss it to the head of the padded exam table.

"Before you get too excited," I begin, "why don't you hop up here and I'll talk you through what's next."

She seems eager now; her earlier nervousness has vanished completely. She positions her butt against the edge of the table, flattens her palms on the padded surface behind her and hops backwards into a sitting position. Her feet dangle above the floor.

"The next thing we're going to do," I begin, "is a typical vaginal exam."

"Oh, I know. My Mom told me you'd be doing that. She reminded me like ten times to get a wax yesterday."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's always been a neat-freak about that."

"Did she tell you anything else?"

"Not really. Just that I should be, you know, like, cooperative or whatever. Not waste your time. Stuff like that."

"Okay. Well, after we do that, then last part of the exam is going to use the camera scope again."

"Why?"

"Because we'll be using it in your rectum."

He eyes bulge. "Excuse me?"

"It's quite important. Infections, lesions and various cancers of the lower colon are deadly serious. Early detection is vital."

"Oh... my God! That thing," she says, pointing at the wet scope, "is going up my butt?"

"Yes." I cannot resist a smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Well, no, not really," I lie. "I just know that it won't be as difficult as you imagine. Compared to the esophageal exam anyway, I think you'll find it easier. There is less for you to do."

"Besides die of humiliation and pain, you mean? You're going to make a movie inside my butt! How do I know it won't end up on YouTube or something?"

"That," I assure her, "will never happen. All records of this exam are subject to patient confidentiality. Besides, I can tell you from experience that the footage is incredibly boring to the untrained eye. And, while it can be a bit uncomfortable, I'll make sure it doesn't hurt."

This back-and-forth goes on a bit longer, until she concedes that she is willing continue.

I move the pillow to the middle of the little bed and ask her to scoot her bottom to the very foot of the mattress so that her head lands comfortably on the pillow. Instead of scooting across the wrinkly paper sheet, she hops down and walks to the foot of the bed where she then hops back up. I enjoy watching her little round butt saunter away from me and then pop up over the lip of the exam table again. The little jewel on the back of her g-string twinkles at me before she reclines. Once on her back, her proud breasts melt into wide circular cushions, concealing much of their girth to either side of her ribcage.

"You can see we don't have any stirrups here for your feet, I'm afraid," I say. "So you'll have to do me a favor and hold your legs back with your hands, okay?"

"Sure," she says. She pulls her legs straight back, keeping them close together. Then she loops both forearms around the backs of her knees in a loose hug. Her skinny thighs are stretched flat and taut. Between them the sheer fabric of her panties is thrown into high relief beneath the bright overhead lights. Her bare feet rub idly together in the air above her as I walk around and take up a position at the foot of the exam bed. I glimpse her face through the gap between her calves and notice that she is watching me. I clasp her waist between my hands and then drag her suddenly toward me. The tissue sheet slides with her, making this easy, but I hear a sharp intake of breath from her as I do this. Her round buttocks now protrude a couple of inches beyond the edge of the table.

Looking straight down, I study the triangle of her panties. The fabric appears quite wet, probably with saliva from her earlier endeavors, and shows definite transparency. I can just discern her little folds of pink skin hiding beneath. I delight for a moment in the minimalism of her last remaining garment, especially where it narrows to a single seam and runs deep between her ass cheeks. So little coverage.

"As lovely as these are," I say softly, "I'm going to need to remove them."

She pulls tighter on the backs of her knees, lifting her butt slightly off the pad. I loop my fingers under the elastic side straps and slowly peel her panties out from under her and push them up and away until they are bunched up around her knees. She helpfully captures the twisted material with her fingers.

Beneath my gaze, revealed at last, is her petite and immaculate pussy. It sits pink and bare, waxed completely hairless from the clitoris down. What little hair does remain is fine almost the point of translucence and confined to a small patch above her clit no more than half an inch wide. Even these few strands are trimmed ruthlessly short. The rest of her skin is utterly smooth, devoid of even a freckle. A subtle sheen coats the visible parts of her labia.

I calmly place my hands on the backs of her thighs, to either side of her sex. Her skin is diaphanous here, and paler where it would normally be shaded by the bubble of her round butt. I press my open hands into her skin, relishing its supple flexibility. Just to tempt myself I exert a slight spreading pressure. The crease between each thigh and her outermost labia widens, but her inner labia do not move. Nice and tight.

"Let's get started," I say, removing my hands. I walk to the back wall and retrieve two new gloves and the tub of jelly lubricant. I kick the rolling stool toward the foot of the bed on my return trip, and place the tub of lubricant on its cushion to be near to hand. I pull on the latex gloves and dip the first two fingers of my right hand into the tub. Wanting to allow a few moments for the lubricant to warm to the temperature of my fingers, I pause and ask her what she is studying in college.

As she answers, I lay my other hand casually on her pubic bone, blanketing that small patch of downy hair and making sure that the edge of my thumb rests atop the hairless hood of her clit. Looking down, I then bring the two extended fingers of my right hand to within an inch of her bare pussy.

Unable to resist the urge, I interrupt her, asking: "When was the last time you had intercourse, exactly?"

She stammers, caught off guard. "Um, maybe four months ago."

I touch my jelly-laden fingers to her labia, very lightly. She inhales.

"Too cold?" I ask.

"No, um...it's okay," she answers.

I smear the lubricant up and down her labia, carefully working it into the petite folds of her vaginal opening and all the way up to her clitoris. As I do this, I push away softly with the flat palm of my left hand, stretching her skin and thereby un-hooding her pink clit. With every subsequent move of my smearing fingers and left thumb I take the opportunity to brush across, with seemingly-accidental swipes, this newly exposed pencil-eraser-sized bud.

"I'm sure you know," I interject, "that the vaginal canal is very flexible, and will tend to shrink with prolonged disuse."

"Uh-huh."

"So you may feel some pressure, more than usual, when I put my fingers inside."

"Uh-huh."

With that, I ease two fingertips into her. She inhales a breath, but quietly. I glance up and see that she is denting her lower lip with her front teeth and staring at the ceiling. I press my fingers further inward and slide my left thumb once more across her protruding clit. Her toes curl and her naked feet flit in the air above us. I gradually finish burying my two fingers inside her up to the last knuckle. She is a very snug fit.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you," I offer.

"No... just feels really deep," she answers softly, holding her breath.

I lean forward, centering my shoulder directly above her sex so that my fingers are pressed straight down, deep into her. I wiggle them alternately back and forth, exploring the contours of her canal. At my farthest reach, I circle one fingertip around the dome of her cervix.

She emits a noise, a brief high-pitch hum, but I cannot be sure if it is due to my fingers' probing or the hockey-game my thumb is now playing with her clit. I rotate my right hand within her until it is palm-upwards and then curl my two fingers, pressing them against the back of her pubic bone. I start to rock back and forth across the little lump that hides there. I hear the paper sheet crinkle under her as she twists her head sideways. Her breathing is audible now. I invert my left hand on her clit and use those fingers to spread her outer labia far apart, exposing a valley of the brightest pink within. I then slide my other thumb up the valley until it crashes into her clit. I gently press that thumb down like a lobster-claw toward the two fingertips I have inside her. The loose embrace she had on the backs of her knees becomes a tight squeeze. I start to slowly move these three pressure points in unison, rocking my entire right hand from side to side and then back and forth. She starts whimpering. I squeeze the little lump inside tighter and move my fingers faster, this time in circles.

"Fuck!" she cries suddenly.

I freeze: "Does that hurt?"

"No," she breathes, lifting her head off the pillow to glance down at me. "But I can't take that. Whatever you're doing... I can't take it."

"Almost done," I say and lessen the pressure between my fingers. After a few more gentle circles I roll my fingers over inside her, sliding my right thumb off her clit in the process. I lift my left hand off her, allowing her outer labia to close, and then return it palm-down onto her pubic mound, crushing her newly swollen clit and its hood beneath the meaty muscle at the base of my thumb. Maintaining pressure there, I begin a subtle orbital motion. I withdraw the fingers of my right hand completely. Then, with these extracted fingers aimed at the floor, I insert my right thumb in their place. Her head tosses to the side again at this new penetration. I notice a thin sheen of perspiration has appeared on the backs of her thighs. I nestle my thumb farther in until my two slippery fingers are buried in the valley between her butt cheeks and pressing firmly edgewise against her little anus. Then I curl my buried thumb down toward them, as if trying to gently pinch her tailbone. I hold her like this for a long moment, while continuing to orbit my left palm on her clit.

Her right arm slips from her knees. I glance up and see she has hooked three fingers over her bottom teeth. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open. Near her temple I can see her jaw muscles flexing softly beneath the skin, tugging against her fingers.

Without releasing pressure, I gradually pull my right thumb outwards. This drags my fingers edgewise across the outside of her anus, and I feel it reflexively pucker. A long moan escapes Jessica's lips. I reverse direction, pushing my thumb all the way into her and sliding my fingers back over that tiny ring of raised muscles. I feel new warmth within her. My left palm continues to grind in circles against the entire area around her clit. I allow myself three more strokes like this, each agonizingly slow on the way out and then quick on the way back in. At each strokes' end, when my thumb is at its deepest, she emits a little "ah" sound and the muscles of her thighs flex in unison. Inside she is flexing too; I feel her tightening in pulses around my thumb. Even through the latex glove I can tell there is a new, sopping wetness within her.

My cock uncoils, filling its chambers again.

I withdraw my thumb and smoothly reinsert my two longest fingers. Once they are fully buried I curl them upwards toward the underside of her pubic bone like before. I find that hidden spot again and begin circling it gingerly. She is breathing loudly now through her mouth. Glancing up I see that between each breath her lips close around her fingers. I press my orbiting left palm a little harder against her clit. She withdraws her hand and buries her fingers into her hair, exhaling in a new moan.

Despite my desire to continue pleasuring her, I realize my attentions have already so exceeded any possible medical reasoning that I have to stop. After four more circles I allow my fingers to slide out of her. With a final flourish I drag my left hand rapidly down across her clit one last time. A quiver shakes her exposed bottom.