tagFetishDr. Love's Exam

Dr. Love's Exam


"Have you decided on the next scene?"

She looked up from her appetizer to see the question in his blue-gray eyes. She reached into her purse and passed him the slip of paper, looking away.

Moments later she looked up at his comment. "This will take a little while." She shivered at how clinical he had become. Exactly as she wanted.

It was their arrangement. First her, then him. The scenes could be as elaborate as each wanted to make them.

In this case, she fretted about it more than usual, fixating on it for the next couple of days. After a week, she had almost forgotten about it. They didn't speak of it, it was assumed; in the background. They went out, saw plays, ate dinner, slept over at each other's houses, but the topic of the scene never came up. It was part of the deal.

Several weeks afterward, she got a phone call. "Your appointment with Dr. Love will be on Wednesday, March 12, 4PM. Can you make it?"

She was startled. It was a woman's voice she didn't recognize. Dr. Love? Dr. Love? She had no doctor by that name...and then of course it swept over her, sending chills down her spine. The lengths he went to. And then the image of his length and she shivered again.

"Theresa Camp? Is this Theresa Camp's residence?"

"Yes. Sorry. This is Terry. Ummm...hold on, let me check. March 12th, 4pm. Yes. I can make that."

The woman confirmed the address and suggested she may not want to eat much before the appointment.

Clinical. It was all very clinical. Terry swallowed at the thought of what he had arranged, her juices already flowing.

The 12th was still a couple of weeks away. She couldn't stop thinking about it. She loved this part of it -- the unspoken understanding he had made arrangements; the quiet secret-that-wasn't-a-secret raising her expectations. It made their love-making even more intense.

* - * - * - *

She arrived at a small house off a commercial district in Saraton, a tony part of town. A wooden sign outside listed several professional services, including a Dr. Love, G,P. M.D. She had been aroused all day in anticipation, and the thought he had gone to these lengths to satisfy the scene turned her on even more. As she climbed the stairs to the entrance she could feel how squishy she had become. She hugged her arms against her side, vibrating with anticipation.

The building had several doors -- a converted apartment house or some such; it took her a minute to find the entrance to "Dr. Love's" suite. Climbing the stairs, she reflected, again, on what he had planned for her.

The official engraved plastic sign on the door to the offices maintained the level of accuracy to the scene. She pushed open the door and walked in.

The waiting area was typical for a small practice: a couple of cushioned chairs, side tables with boring magazines, a glassed-in reception counter. The entire place was deserted. She paused, confused.

"I'll be with you in a moment, just sign in at the counter." A disembodied voice from somewhere else in the suite surprised her.

She didn't recognize the voice: male, older, authoritarian. Not his voice. She did as she was told, the moisture building between her legs. The extent to which he had made the scene so realistic sent a pulse through her groin. She lightly pressed her mound against the countertop.

She saw her name on the roster and signed and dated on the line.

"You can start filling out those forms, Ms. Camp, and we'll get started in a moment. I just have one patient I'm finishing up with. The office is short-staffed today. I appreciate your patience."

She still couldn't see who it was talking, but the interchange left her breathless. A real patient. What did Mike do? Short-staffed? She could feel the familiar loosening of her insides, the images of what was planned for her swimming through her head. Would there be a nurse? She re-imagined being opened by the speculum, a vision she'd fantasized about over and over again these past couple of days: the cold steel opening her, his hands reaching in, her feet up on the stirrups. She shook her head and looked for the forms.

The stack of forms were typical and accurate: medical history, family medical history, prescriptions, HIPAA release forms, etc., etc. She grew a little alarmed as she filled them out that these were actually going to be on file in this doctor's office. She had already assumed he was a real doctor, as no sight or sound of Mike was evident. The anxiety and anticipation mixed with her arousal: she could feel her juices beginning to leak into her panties, struggling to not push against her pussy and in spite of her need.

She raced through the forms, thankfully her medical history was minimal, but she still felt somehow obligated to be truthful; she didn't know what would actually happen with the information. As she was finishing the last of them, she noticed a shift in the light and looked up to see the door next to the reception desk opening.

"Theresa Camp?" The voice was the same as the one she'd heard before, but she still didn't recognize it. Nor did she recognize the man. She was expecting to see Mike, but the individual in the doorway was taller, heavier and his face wasn't shaped the same. At least, the portion of the face she could see. The doctor was in his scrubs, his hair covered by a hospital cap, his mouth and nose covered by a mask. "I'm sorry. I have a bit of a cold this week and I'm trying not to get my patients sick. I apologize for the unorthodox costume."

She looked at him trying to determine if it really was Mike. Her brain suggested it could be, even if her eyes didn't recognize him. The voice wasn't his in the least -- raspier...older. And the physique -- the shoulders were too broad, he seemed too tall. The room swam for a moment as she considered what she was about to do: she was here for a complete physical, and she would be examined by a stranger. She struggled with her feelings. Mike had always played his part to a "T." Her nipples suddenly hardened at the prospect of her exam, the fantasy of the speculum and being spread open -- now by a complete stranger. As frightening as the prospect that it wasn't Mike, was the possibility that it was. What did that say about her, that she couldn't even recognize her lover of 6 months?

She realized he was waiting for her and collected the paperwork and her things. He held the door for her and as she passed him by she realized he even smelled differently from Mike. She looked up at his face, to see if his eyes were the same blue-grey color, and to her alarm, they weren't. Again she felt a shiver down her spine, only it wasn't completely fear -- the sense of excitement at what Mike had planned was hitting her full force.

"So, Ms. Camp, let's see what is going on with you." He had settled on the rolling stool after offering her a seat in one of the exam rooms. It was a typical exam room, the bed with the crinkly paper, a sink and counter filled with instruments, the walls covered in medical posters or cabinets and something she hadn't seen before, a television set on a rolling cart with some sort of tubing. He leafed through the first few sheets of paper and realized she hadn't finished. "Do you have any allergies?"

She shook her head, crossing her legs. She had worn a simple wool skirt and white blouse, something she could quickly get into and out of. The room felt a little chilly; she wondered what it would feel like when she was undressed. Again, the thought of being naked in front of this stranger as part of Mike's scene sent a pulse of arousal through her. She realized she had missed what he'd said. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. What?"

"What, in particular, brings you here today. I assume you had a reason for making the appointment?"

Her throat caught. Shit! Mike may very well have made an appointment for her. Her mind reeled. "Uhhhm...I thought I should get a check up." She almost made it sound like a question and cursed herself for being so stupid.

"When was your last gynecological exam?" He had put the papers down and had stood up, beginning to start the exam.

What month was it...shit, shit, shit..."Last November?"

He put a blood pressure cuff on her arm and a stethoscope on her wrist. She breathed quietly while he completed the procedure. "120 over 73 -- great. Your pulse seems a little fast -- are you nervous?"

She licked her lips, wondering how to explain herself. "A little," she offered, noncommittally.

"It's okay. Uhhh," he turned to the door, distracted by the sound of conversation outside in the hall. "Go ahead and disrobe while I check on something. You can hang your clothes in there." He waved to a closet. "I'm not expecting anyone," he mumbled, distractedly. "I'll be right back," and he quickly opened and shut the door.

Terry looked around for a gown. Opening all of the drawers in the cabinets, the drawers under the bed, the closet. There's supposed to be a gown. Shit! Her nipples hardened again as she imagined his eyes looking at her stripped naked. Obsessed with her version of the scene, she fast-forwarded to her feet up in the stirrups; she licked her lips, her panties completely soaked.

"There's nothing for it," she whispered to herself, hoping it really was Mike, or that Mike was going to come in. She was a bundle of nerves at the possibilities. She started to unbutton her blouse and slipped it off, placing it on a hanger. She slipped off her shoes and stockings. She couldn't avoid it any longer, unzipping her skirt.

There was a quick knock on the door and she turned from hanging her skirt. She saw her reflection in the mirror on the back of the closet door -- a beautiful young woman, half-naked, slightly afraid...no...startled. The image sent another pulse through her groin and up her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment at the sweet-honey feeling.


"Terry...please." She looked down, trying to avoid his eyes. She searched for any sign it was Mike, but even the doctor's hands were covered with latex gloves.

"Terry. Please, I apologize for the confusion. My team has all left for the day. I would usually have a nurse here, but..."

"...do you have any gowns, Doctor?" She interrupted. She wasn't sure which way to turn -- into the closet? That would be ridiculous. But turning the other way and she was standing exposed. She'd never had an examination without a gown.

"Gowns. Aren't there any in the drawers there?" He moved across the room to check the same drawers she had already searched. He stood up, equally unsuccessful.

"It's okay, I'm a doctor," he said jokingly. "I can turn up the heat a little if you're cold. Go ahead and get undressed."

He turned away slightly, affording her a small bit of privacy. She blushed, realizing she would be putting on a striptease...for a doctor. She peeled away her bra revealing her hard nipples, her breasts covered in goosebumps. Her blush deepened. This has to be a scene! Her mind was screaming at her even as she slipped her fingers into her waistband and peeled her panties down her legs, exposing her bush. Completely naked now, she put her clothes in the closet and tried to calm her heart. She could smell her musk, whether from her underwear or drifting up from between her legs, she wasn't sure. Her face was flushed, the color spreading down to the top of her breasts.

Dr. Love continued to mark her chart and looked up. "Very well. Let's get started then. You can have a seat on the bed there."

In her mind's eye she took stock of the situation. 5'2, 115 pounds. Auburn hair in a page boy. A light tan from their recent trip to Hawaii, but mostly pale white skin. Her breasts sloped down from her chest, slightly tear dropped, her nipples standing up proudly like a flag at the end of a ski-jump, planted in chestnut colored aureoles. She walked to the end of the bed, looking down at her auburn muff, the triangle of hair neatly trimmed but full, extending down between her legs. She struggled with her feelings -- it wasn't at all what she'd been imagining for the past two weeks, but at the same time she couldn't remember being this turned on. The thought of Mike setting her up with a complete stranger -- it didn't compute and it sure didn't make sense. She was practically cumming just thinking about it. As she started to climb on the bed he stopped her.

"Shoot. I knew I was forgetting something. I need to get your weight. Come along. It's just outside here." He opened the door and waited for her. Seeing her hesitation, he said reassuringly, "It's okay, there's no one in the office. I sent away the cleaning crew -- they had come too early." He opened the door wider to let her see outside and then gently waved her to the scale.

Terry slipped off the bed and walked slowly to the door, half expecting to see a crowd of janitors or nurses, or someone, standing out in the hall to watch her. Entering the small hallway and turning to the scale, she finally exhaled. Her skin was covered in goosebumps, her nipples poking out like small wooden pegs, a mixture of the cold, anxiety and arousal. She hated to be naked in public; Mike knew that! Even at the swimming-suit optional beach she refused to take off her bottoms.

This wasn't exactly public space, she understood that in her head, but it didn't stop the slight panic that made her heart race. The panic only increased her horniness. Her pussy, not just wet, was starting to itch, her labia swelling at the thought of walking into the hall stripped naked. Without her underwear to absorb her juices, they were starting to drip down her thighs. She blushed again.

"The scale's a little tricky," Dr. Love came up behind her, adjusting the weights. "To get the most accurate weight, it's best if you stand here..." he turned her gently to face towards the door to the reception area, his glove covered fingers brushing against her naked thigh. "And if you hold your hands out like this," he put them out to the side, level with his shoulders, "it works best."

Her heart hammered in her chest. She tried to control her breathing but that only made matters worse, forcing her breasts to rise and fall. She saw him staring at her while he fiddled with the scale. As he was almost ready to tell her to step down, there was a noise from the outer room.

Terry jerked and looked over at the door and then to the doctor.

"Hold on. Don't move please, the scale is really finicky. That's it. Just keep your arms still for a minute. Let me find out what the devil is going on out there." He gently lifted her arms again, leaving her standing exposed and facing the door to the reception area, the only barrier between her nakedness and yet another stranger. She focused on her breasts rising and falling with her breath.

To her horror he went to the door, opened it, and left it open as he walked out to see who was there. In her head she was screaming to run to the exam room and close herself in, but her body was frozen, completely exposed, complying with his directions to stay still. Her skin prickled and she felt her pussy clamp at the thought a second stranger would find her in this ridiculous position. It has to be Mike! He's just doing this to make it more crazy! Even her befuddled head wasn't fooled by the rationalization: she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself.

She heard Dr. Love arguing with someone, their voices audible but the words unintelligible. At any moment, she realized, whoever was out there could walk in front of the door and see her standing like Christ on the cross, a naked, female Christ of course, but still. She smiled briefly before wondering why she didn't just stop this nonsense and move into the room. The sound of someone approaching the open door almost made her jump out of her skin; the relief at seeing it was the doctor made her drop her hands to her thighs.

"Sorry. Let's try that again." He closed the door and walked back to her, lifting her hands up again. Standing in front of her, his lab coat brushed against her nipples as he fiddled again with the scale. "So, have you had any unusual changes in weight since your last exam?" He stepped back, waved her off the scale toward the room, jotting notes.

"No. I'm a little heavier than I'd like, but nothing unusual." She thought about how she'd put on a few pounds, mostly in her butt and thighs, how she really wanted to get thinner, but didn't really want to work it off.

"Well, you look just fine. Just fine." He ushered her back into the room and the feeling of being safe and protected washed over her. She perched herself back on the bed as he had instructed before. She spread her legs a little to keep her balance, realizing she was exposing herself to him; the feeling of being exposed, in the room, with just him, was so much more arousing than the possibility of being exposed to just anyone coming in off the street. She shivered again at the thought of someone seeing her on the scale.

He proceeded to test her reflexes, pushing here, prodding there, taking notes, all the while asking questions about her eating habits, what she did for recreation, how she spent her free time. He asked her to breathe in deeply, the stethoscope against her chest, his hand pushing against her spine. And then again, this time the scope on her back.

"Go ahead and lie down now. So, you are active sexually?" He had her shimmy up the bed, her head on a slightly raised pillow, her knees momentarily raised as she found leverage to scoot onto her back. The question was perfectly acceptable for a doctor to ask, but it sent a pulse of electricity up her spine.

"Yes." She settled her legs back down, her feet just at the end of the bed.

"Mmmm, hmmmm. Any pain with intercourse?" He continued his palpitations, running his hands down her throat, across her chest to her stomach, tapping her liver and intestines, moving the stethoscope as he traveled down. He skipped over her pubic area, continuing his inspection of her legs, pushing his fingers into her muscles and joints.

"No," she answered softly, the liquid brimming inside her, the vibrations running up and down her spine.

"Do you have satisfying orgasms?" He spread her legs a little, feeling along the joints behind her knees.

"When I have them." She thought about having one right now and focused on the ceiling.

"Well, everything is normal so far. I'd like to proceed with the gynecological exam. We'll do a breast exam, and then a recto-vaginal exam. We do things a little differently than you might be familiar with, so if you have any questions, please stop me." He turned away, pulled a camera from a drawer and snapped it into a wall mounted support. She stared as he swung the support out and tilted the camera down towards her. "I assume you do a regular breast exam?" He sounded so gentle and kind, like a concerned uncle.

Unlike any uncle I ever had, she smiled at the perverse thought. Still the camera. What was up with the camera? He turned to the rolling cart, pushing it away from the wall, facing the T.V. towards her. He turned it on and she saw herself, lying down on the bed from the perspective of the camera.

"I'd like you to demonstrate how you do your breast exam. If you could please." He waited for her, his hand resting on the camera.

Even as she grew embarrassed at the idea of manipulating her breast for a camera, for anyone for that matter, she felt the electricity in her groin traveling up her spine. She hesitated. Finally, taking a breath, she moved her fingers up to her breasts and began to circle them around the nipples in widening arcs. As she pressed in, feeling for any lumps, she realized he had started taping her. She closed her eyes, concentrating.

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