Doctor Dilemma Pt. 02

I continue to have Ashley in this elevated position, and while I do, I try my best to get as many pumps of my cock into her vagina as I can, but it's both awkward and strenuous. After maybe a minute at most like this, I realize I don't think I can hold her up much longer, and more importantly, I start to have this overwhelming urge to just pound her pussy as hard I possibly can.

I certainly can't do that while she's in the air like this, so I gently lower her down and place her right on the linoleum floor, smack dab in the middle of the room. She's completely naked, so I'm sure the floor feels ice cold to her exposed back, ass, and legs, but to her credit she doesn't seem to care one bit. As I lay her down, we do finally break our kiss, but that just allows her to stare right into my eyes. She also instinctively spreads her legs as wide as can be as soon as her back and ass land on the floor. I'm kneeling above her, my dick is super wet, and I first glance down at her now gently used pussy, and then up at her innocent face behind those adorable glasses. I realize that all I want to do is to let loose and fuck this 18-year-old's vagina until I blast my cum inside her. I don't care about prolonging the sex, or delaying my orgasm, or anything else besides filling her with my semen. Right here, right now.

So I take her two hands, move them up near her head and then pin them to the floor. I push my cock effortlessly back into her slippery tight canal, and then I lower my still mostly clothed body onto her naked self, squishing and basically pinning her whole body down. I have my jeans around my ankles, so my legs are mostly together, but hers are spread totally wide to accept me in. I have my shirt on, and it's pressing against her chest and her beautiful petite tits. My whole body, which I'm sure outweighs hers by at least 100 lbs, is now just dominating her as she's helpless to move her body or her hands. Finally, I complete this amazing position by resuming our kiss and continuing to passionately explore the inside of her mouth and throat with my tongue.

With complete control of the position now, I'm finally free to just thrust my hips and fuck her as hard as I want. And I don't hold back. I have zero interest in trying not to cum, so I completely let myself go. As I continue to hold her body pressed against the linoleum floor, I start pumping my cock as far inside of her as I possibly can. Each thrust ends with my pelvis colliding with hers, and I have no regard for what my cock might be doing to her precious virgin vagina. On some small level, I'm sure I do care about her well being, but my instincts have turned me into some savage animal that just totally disregards her feelings in this. As I slam her pussy over and over, I can tell it's affecting her in some way, as she's clearly making vocal noises from behind our kiss, but it's impossible to tell what she's trying to communicate with my mouth and tongue smothering hers. I have no idea if these noises are words or groans, and if they're signs of pleasure or discomfort. And I clearly don't care enough to stop kissing her and check, as all I care about is fucking her.

It only takes a few seconds after starting this glorious unrestrained pounding, before I can tell I've passed the point of no return, and my journey towards orgasm is beginning. Any holy shit, it feels like I go through a full minute of build-up, where each pump of my cock just loads up a little more semen into the base of my penis, before soon enough it will all get unleashed. The physical sensation of penetrating this tight, wet pussy is glorious, but the emotional realization of what I'm doing is ever better. Here I am, fucking a girl 31 years younger than I am. She's adorable and smart, has this flawless body, and holy shit, she's only 18 years old. She's half my size, less than half my age, and I am taking her virginity. This is every man's wettest fucking dream and I'm actually living it. Holy fuck, that tight perfect, untouched, squirting pussy. Fuck, those cute, innocent glasses. Fuck, this adorable little masturbator is all mine. FUUUUUCCCKKK!!!

And I start cumming harder and longer than I ever have in my entire life. Logically, I know I probably only deposited 5 to 10 ml of semen inside Ashley, but it sure feels like I opened up a firehose of cum inside this girl's vagina. Squirt after squirt, I spasm into the back of her canal, and as I do I picture this giant flood of creamy, white jizz smothering her cervical opening. It's such an unbelievably hot mental image, to picture this girl completely filled to the brim with this foreign substance her body had never encountered before. My foreign substance.

After pumping my way into total exhaustion and now feeling like I couldn't possibly have a single drop of semen left inside me, I finally gather my senses and come to. I take my hands off of Ashley's hands and lift my face away from hers. And what I see catches me off guard. She looks completely overwhelmed, uncomfortable, and actually kind of scared. And if that's not bad enough, I can see signs of small tears in the corners of her eyes. Oh my god, I'm such a monster.

I lift myself completely off of her to give her some space. "I'm so sorry, Ashley. I didn't mean to lose control like that." I tell her, feeling terrible about the fact that I absolutely was way rougher than I ever should've been.

"It's ok." She says back, meekly, but I can tell she's just trying to put on a brave face. And then I see her take her hand and feel down by her vulva to kind of asses the damage.

As we both look down to survey where my extreme thrusting took place, I become even more horrified. There's a significant amount of blood both inside and outside her vagina. And if that's not bad enough, I glance down at my penis, and I can see a glistening red tint to it as well. Ashley then uses her arms to sit herself up, and my cum starts slowly leaking out of her, and sure enough it's not just semen but a combination of white and red. I physically hurt this girl quite a bit, and all I can think of is how fucking awful I am.

I instantly start to realize how enormous a failing this is on my part, not the least of which is a total disregard for the Hippocratic oath and its "First, do no harm" clause. But in addition to the physical harm I've clearly caused Ashley, it takes a mere matter of seconds for me to contemplate all the emotional harmed I've caused everyone involved here. From my wife Andrea, to my son Trent, and now Ashley too, I've been horrible to all three of them. Why the fuck did I just do that? I just cheated on my wife, in order to take my son's girlfriend's virginity. And I did all of that to this sweet girl on the cold, hard, floor of my office. None of them deserves this. My god, what a disaster.

"Oh Ashley, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, sorry." I say again.

But as I continue to come down off my orgasmic high and feel worse and worse, Ashley actually seems to be doing better with each passing moment. She stands up and says, "I'm really doing ok. I just was a little overwhelmed by how intense you got there at the end. That's all."

I still don't know what to say, so I try to help out by first grabbing a handful of tissues for her, and then by retrieving her pile of clothes off the floor.

"Can I get you anything? Do you need a drink of water?" I ask.

Ashley is busy wiping up cum and blood from her pussy, but is still polite enough to look up and say, "No thanks, I'm good." She even smiles when she says that. God, what a fucking angel this girl is. She let my old, hairy ass defile her and she's still as sweet as can be.

Before she gets dressed, I ask her if she's in much pain, while gesturing down to her crotch. She responds that it feels a little 'on fire' but that it's not too bad. I tell her that despite the blood, she probably doesn't have anything to worry about, but I'm happy to take a look just to make sure. But as I say this, I realize how much of a total creep I must sound like. Like she's really going to let the man who caused this damage take a look at assessing that same damage? I'm so fucking embarrassed and ashamed right now. Both as a doctor, and as a human being.

Not surprisingly, she says, "I'm good, it's really not that bad." And then she starts putting her clothes on.

Soon enough we're both dressed and I finish tidying up the office to hide any evidence of our encounter. Once that's done, I can tell that Ashley is anxious to get on her way, so I suggest we should head out. We walk towards the front, retracing our path through the dark and deserted office, and all I can think about is what I should say to her when we get to the parking lot. And I'm drawing a complete blank. Do I apologize again? Do I thank her? Do I tell her how amazing I thought she was? All I want to do is say the least offensive, but most comforting thing to her right now, and I have no idea what that is.

We get outside and stand next to each other, right where she parked. There's an awkward silence for about five seconds, and then Ashley takes a small step towards me. I see that she's coming in for a goodbye kiss, so I move in to kiss her as well. But holy fuck, I read that wrong as she quickly pulls back and avoids kissing me at all costs. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was just trying to step through me to get to her car. Of course she didn't want to kiss me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I say, fucking yet again.

"It's ok." She says, YET AGAIN. "I just should be getting on my way. That's all."

"Ok. Of course. Well, drive safely." I say to her as she gets into her car. I then turn and start a walk of shame to my own vehicle.

As I'm approaching my car, she drives past me and heads on her way. I climb into the driver's seat, put my hands on the wheel and yell "Fuck!!!!" at the top of my lungs. God fucking damn it, I really screwed this whole thing up. It takes a good five minutes before I collect myself and am able to drive home. I feel terrible in so many ways, but I realize I have no choice but to cover that up and pretend like everything is normal when I get back to my house. I do contemplate for a second whether I should go and confess everything that just happened to Andrea, but I decide I can't do that. At least not now when I'm clearly not thinking straight.

I arrive home and walk into the house. My wife and son are hanging out in the living room watching this week's episode of Saturday Night Live on DVR.

"You get everything worked out?" Andrea asks me.

"Yep. All good." I answer as I go to pour myself a glass of water. I notice my hand is shaking while I'm doing this and I realize I need to get a grip, both literally and figuratively.

I sit down and try to just focus on watching the SNL episode, but my mind is pretty distracted to say the least. I'm already starting to realize that I'm going to be living with a ton of guilt for awhile here, and if my only way out of it is confessing, then I'm pretty much fucked either way.

A few minutes go by and while the three of us are watching tv, I start to collect myself and feel a little better. But then Trent's phone rings, and I see him pick it up and answer, "Hey babe." And as he says this he stands up and leaves the room.

Fuck, that's obviously Ashley. Did she call him as soon as she got home? What is she going to tell him? I'm totally fucked. So now in addition to guilt, you can add paranoia to the list of the terrible feelings I'm going to be apparently living with from here on out.

A half an hour goes by, and it's actually getting kind of late. Andrea and I decide to head up, and I'm so nervous as to whether Trent already knows everything about what happened. I decide I have to check in on him, so I poke my head into his room, and he's sitting on his bed still talking on the phone. I give him a small wave, and when he looks up, I say good night. He tells me good night as well, and as far as I can tell he seems normal. But who knows for sure, and there's so much riding on this and what Ashley might tell him, that it's impossible for me to not to worry.

My wife and I head to bed, but I don't get much sleep. I'm constantly replaying what happened at the end of our meet up at my office. It's extremely depressing to think about how quickly things took a turn for the worse there at the end. I can't help but think, if only I had actually been gentle, then everything would've ended up on a much more positive note. But then I think, even if things with Ashley had ended well, I'd probably still have all this guilt, so it probably doesn't even matter. But then again, maybe the way things ended will lead Ashley to end up telling Trent, when otherwise she wouldn't have. And if she tells Trent, then it's safe to say my life as I know it is completely over. Fuck.

Days pass. Then weeks pass, and as much as I had feared that it was inevitable Ashley would tell Trent, it actually starts to seems like I might be in the clear. I see Ashley a few times at our house, and amazingly she acts completely normal around me. Trent hasn't given off any signs that he knows, either. But then something weird happens, and I clearly start seeing less and less of Ashley around our house. It's noticeable enough that my wife even brings it up, specifically asking me if I think they might've broken up.

I can't help but wonder if something is up now, and my paranoia is pretty debilitating. I'm able to go in everyday and do my job and see patients, but it's a struggle to get through. I keep waiting for the moment when Andrea finds out and just confronts me out of the blue. I have to analyze everything Trent says too, to see if he knows. I'm also too paranoid to ask straight up if he and Ashley broke up, because I'm worried that'll lead to him finally confronting me. I'm pretty miserable living like this, but I have no one to blame but myself, so I'm clearly getting what I deserve. But honestly, I'm probably still getting off easy, considering what I did.

Another month goes by, and it's been confirmed that Trent and Ashley are no longer dating. Neither my wife or I know why they broke up though, as Trent isn't sharing. I still haven't confessed or been confronted with what happened, so I'm apparently content to just stick with the status quo and just ride it out. One Saturday, Trent asks if we should go out and get lunch. I tell him that sounds like a great idea, and since Andrea was out for the day, it was the perfect opportunity for us to go do something one on one. We go to his favorite burger place, and when we sit down after getting our food, it's clear he has something he needs to talk to me about. Despite the time that has passed, I'm still super paranoid, so I'm pretty sure he's about to confront me about Ashley.

"Dad, I need to tell you something." Trent starts out.

"Of course." I respond, trying to keep my cool.

"I'm gay." He says.

Holy shit. I exhale. So many thoughts are running through my mind, and to be honest, the biggest one is an overwhelming sense of relief. And then secondly, I start thinking about how everything now makes sense. I realize I have to respond, so I say, "Ok. That's great." And then I add, "I honestly had no idea, but your mom and I will support you 100% on this. You know that, right?"

Trent responds back, "I know." But still seems a little solemn. "I knew that you guys would be understanding and accepting."

I obviously should be most concerned with my son and this momentous occasion in his life where he just came out to his own father, but all I can think about is how this relates to me and Ashely. So this is why he never wanted to have sex with her. This is why she was convinced he had a crush on someone else. This is why she was so insecure about her body. It all kind of makes sense now. Holy shit. And it also makes me feel so much better about what I did to him, when I fucked his girlfriend. Because she kind of wasn't even his girlfriend, right? And this is probably why they broke up, as I'm guessing he told her he's gay? And maybe she never told him about us, because they were dealing with this news instead? For all the possible plot twists, this is probably a best case scenario. Holy shit. I still fucking cheated on my wife, but at least half my guilt is maybe going to go away now?

"Is this why you and Ashley broke up?" I ask.

"Yeah." He responds, and I realize I might actually be in the clear here.

"Dad." He says and then pauses. "She told me what happened between you two."

Fuck. Back to square one. He knows everything. That was all just wishful thinking.

"I'm so sorry, Trent. I don't know what to say. It's completely true, and I have no excuse. I'm so sorry." I tell him. But as soon as I start admitting it, I weirdly feel a sense of relief. Could it possibly be that I'm actually glad he knows?

"Does mom know?" He asks.

"No." I say. "I probably have no choice but to tell her, though."

Trent pauses, and then asks, "Why did you do it?"

I think for a moment, trying to be as honest as possible with my son, and then I say, "Selfishness." I then elaborate, "I wanted to do something, and it didn't matter to me how much it was going to hurt other people. I don't know why, but I didn't care. It was just pure selfishness."

Trent just sits there looking at me, seemingly with no interest in taking a single bite of his meal. I'm left wondering what comes next. Where do we go from here? Neither of us says anything for a full minute or two. I don't feel like eating either, as all I want to know is what's going through his mind. Does he hate me? Or is he not that mad? Is our family going to be able to make it though this? We both aren't saying a word and just alternating between looking at each other, and looking down at the food we're not eating.

After a long pause of no one saying anything, Trent looks up at me and says, "I think you should NOT tell mom." Which catches me by surprise. And then he adds, "And then I think you should NEVER do anything like this again."

I process what Trent is suggesting and I think to myself, is that ok? Would it really be alright for me to keep this secret from my wife for the rest of our lives? Is it possible that shielding her from what I did will make her happiest in the long run, or is that just me being selfish and taking the easy way out, yet again? But then I think, this isn't even my idea, it's Trent's. He's both one of the victims of what I did, but also someone who clearly wants what's best for his mom, so who better to come up with the ideal path forward than him?

And there you have it. My son knows exactly what I did, and exactly who I am, but he's tossing me a lifeline. And I decide right then and there that I'm going to take it. In my mind, it's the perfect compromise because I can have a second chance at my marriage, but my son will always know what a piece of shit I am. Deep down though, I know it's taking the easy way out. The truth is, what I did to Trent isn't even remotely as bad as what I did to his mom, so not telling her would be undeniably pathetic. And that's not even considering the fact that I know now that Trent is gay, and his relationship with Ashley was doomed from the start. What I did to him was nothing in comparison, and this is no compromise.

So despite all that, and knowing that the one true victim in this will always be my wife Andrea, I look up at Trent and say, "Ok. I'll never do this again. You have my word."