The Dare MD: Author Meets Fantasy

This story is a fantasy spin-off of The DareMD series. It is not part of the series, and I believe it can be enjoyed on its own terms. It's mostly a case of an author having fun with his character.

In real life, I finished the first draft of this fantasy the day before I had an appointment with the actual doctor on whom the series is based. With these fictional events so firmly in mind, it was hard not to gaze at her modest cleavage and the brief flash of her thigh as she sat down and think of the events in the story I had just made up.

Enjoy the fantasy.

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About halfway through your annual Medicare physical, you tell your doctor that you have published erotic stories about her online. At first, you don't think it registers with her, because she asks a couple more questions, but then her head jerks up and she says, "What?"

"I've written some erotic stories about a hot, red-headed doctor named Andrea who develops a taste for exhibitionism. I'd already written several stories based on an online whore I've become friends with, and it struck me that you're just as hot as she is." You pull a picture out of your pocket. "She sent me this picture when I finally persuaded and paid her to show me her face. I thought, I bet that's what Doc Andrea would look like after a night of rowdy sex. Don't you think so?"

The doctor chuckles nervously. "I think we should talk about your health, since that's what you're here for." You shrug and tell her about what you think might be arthritis in your left hand. She takes a look at your fingers and says she will put in an order for an x-ray.

After a little bit, you say, "When I told my whore I'd written a story about her, she asked if I had described her body. She said that would really turn her on, so in the next stories I made a point of describing the texture of her skin, her 'fat little ass,' as she calls it , and her small tits, though I think they're perfect. I'm using her as a model for you, but I thought it would be really nice to know what your body looks like, so I can be sure to get it right."

The doctor just looks at you with her mouth hanging open. Her cheeks turn a nice shade of red that goes well with her red hair, which is hanging down in curly cascades on either side of her face. Her fingers fiddle with the buttons on her white lab coat, undoing one at a time.

"This is really an inappropriate conversation, you know that." She stands and starts pacing around the room nervously. She slides the lab coat off her shoulders and drapes it onto her chair. She undoes a couple buttons on her blouse and shakes the sides, as though trying to cool off.

"I didn't mean to offend you," you say. "I guess it's a male fantasy that any woman would be delighted, even flattered, to hear about how he imagines her. For instance, I suspect you work out, particularly when I get to see your legs as you walk around."

She puts one foot up on the examination table beside you and runs her hands along her calf. "I do try to jog regularly, and I think my legs are in good shape." Then she suddenly pulls her foot back and stands up. "No, this is not right. I'm supposed to be examining you."

Her hands are now on the side of her skirt, sliding the zipper down and unhooking the button just above it. "Why am I undoing my skirt?" She looks around in surprise at how loudly she had shouted. There is a knock on the door. "Everything okay, doctor?"

"Fine. Everything's fine." And yet she is astonished to see that her skirt has fallen to the floor and is lying in a circle around her ankles. She looks up at you in complete surprise that her legs are all bare. "What is going on?" she whispers, her eyes wide.

"Maybe I should have put this story into the Mind Control category," you say, but the doctor has no idea what you are talking about. You add, "Your thighs look very well toned as well. Are they flexible? Can you pull them up toward your chest and spread them wide to make room for your man? Unless you favor women, of course. But I've seen pictures of you with your husband and children."

"Please, we must get back to your appointment." She grabs her notepad in an effort to control herself. "What were the three words I told you early in the session to test your memory? Do you remember them?"

"Orange, railroad, and seven."

She nods and makes a note on the chart. Then you say, "Those purple panties look really nice on you. I love how they mold your pussy."

In frustration, she drops the notepad onto the exam table and lifts up the panels of her blouse above her navel. Her stomach is soft and round, a tiny bit pudgy, maybe, but nicely so.

"Is that a thong," you ask, "or does it cover your whole butt?"

She utters a gasp of frustration and turns around with her blouse lifted even further. The bikini-style panties cover her butt, though one of the sides has ridden up, exposing the cheek.

"I like the design along the edges. Are they roses?"

"Yes," sounding a little impatient, maybe even angry. When she turns around, she has completely unbuttoned the blouse, and it falls to the floor. Her white bra has a flower design on it, not quite matching the waistband on the panties, but certainly well coordinated with it. She looks down at her body, completely mystified as to why she is standing in the exam room in her underwear in the presence of a fully clothed patient.

"That bra looks quite soft," you say. "Is it comfortable?"

She is on the verge of tears when she answers "Yes," and yet her hands slip the straps off her shoulders. She looks at you with that same "What is going on?" expression as she reaches back, unhooks the bra, pulls it off and tosses it aside.

Her breasts are heavier than you expect and sag down and to the side when they are free, the left one slightly lower than the right. They fill her hands as she lifts them up, but instead of covering them, she leans down to lick and kiss the nipple on the left one. She even sucks it into her mouth briefly, leading you to rub your hand over your crotch, where your cock has begun to fidget.

She must have seen you do that. Even as she sucks her left nipple, her other hand slides down her stomach, under her panties, and down to her crotch where she begins to rub herself. She gasps in reaction to her own touch, and she lets go of her breast to push the panties down. She is having a little trouble doing this with just one hand, while her other hand is working on her pussy, and you offer to help, but she steps away from you, whispering, "Don't touch me!"

When she gets her panties off, and you see her fingers working on her labia under the dusting of pubic hair, you realize your cock needs some relief, so you unzip your pants and pull it out.

"What are you doing?" She sounds alarmed, yet interested.

"Have you ever shaved your pubic hair?" you ask as you start stroking yourself. "My web whore says she's always kept hers shaved. She sent me pictures from when she was in college, and she was totally bare."

"No . . . Well, maybe in college once, twice . . . I don't remember!" Her voice rises in pitch, and she sounds as though she is having trouble keeping her thoughts together. By now, she has two fingers up inside herself and is rubbing her clit more energetically with her thumb. She is sitting in the chair with one foot up on the little desk with the computer, opening herself up completely to your gaze. Leaning back, she gasps for air as she fucks herself.

You walk over toward her with your cock in one hand, holding your pants partly with the other. She sees you out of the corner of her eye and reaches out with her free hand to take hold of your cock. Before you know it, she has twisted around and is pulling you toward her mouth.

Now you are the astonished one as she drags her lips over your cock head and down the stiffening shaft till she can suck your balls. Her other hand is still working her pussy and clit. Both of you are moaning and gasping.

Suddenly, she stands up and pulls you to the exam table, where she leans forward and pulls you around till your hard cock is right up against her wet pussy lips. You notice, as she rubs your cock against her slit, that her pussy lips are not as thick and meaty as your web whore's, but as soon as she presses back against you and you slide into the wet tunnel of her cunt, you forget the difference. Your web whore is no longer first on your mind. Fucking your primary care practitioner, the red-haired Dr. Andrea Crawford, takes complete priority.

After a couple minutes, you see her gripping the sides of the exam table. Her moans become more intense. As you feel your own orgasm getting closer, you squeeze her fleshy ass cheeks, then slide your hands up her smooth back, leaning forward as you continue to thrust into her. When you reach her shoulders, you squeeze tight to anchor yourself. You feel the orgasm building in your balls, and you lean over her, running your hands down her bare arms and burying your face in her hair. Just as your cock shoots its first load into her waiting cunt, you whisper, "I love fucking my whore doctor Andrea."

The combination of your words and your cum sets her off, and she starts jerking beneath you. Her twitching cunt muscles milk your cock further, and you are both gasping and moaning.

When you are drained, you lift yourself up a little to keep from crushing her against the table. Your softening cock slips out of her, and you feel its wetness against your thigh. You also feel something oozing out of her and running down her legs where they are pressed against yours. You pull back and see a steady stream of your combined juices seeping out between her swollen pussy lips.

You stand there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. It's been a while since you've had this kind of exertion. You hear her mumbling and you bend down to try to make out the words.

"This is insane . . . Fffuuuuuuuuccckkk . . . Never done anything like . . . Oooh ffuucckk I'm going to cum again ..."

She has reached one arm down between her legs and is rubbing herself even as your combined juices continue to ooze out of her. You pat her on the ass and hobble over to the sink, holding your pants up, to wash your cock. You do not want to go back home smelling of sex.

You hear her gasp and moan several times, and you look over to see her ass jerking as she cums again. You watch till she settles down, then you go back to washing. As you dry yourself with the scratchy paper towels, you hear a sound and turn to see her walking a little unsteadily across to the built-in desk. Her breasts sway with each step, and you admire how much of her pussy is visible in its swollen state under the dusting of trimmed pubic hair. "I've got to finish charting this visit," she mumbles with a slight groan as she sits on the stool. You are about to suggest that she cover the stool so she does not leak cum juice onto it, but you are too late.

"You want your panties?" you ask as you zip up your pants. She waves vaguely as she keeps typing. Once you are dressed, you lean against the exam table, avoiding any wet spots, and just watch her. You admire the curve of her back down to her butt cheeks flattened out against the stool and the sway of her breasts as she types.

She finishes and turns around on the stool, where she can reach down to her panties. "Everything's entered," she says as she puts her feet through the leg holes. "You can get all the referrals at checkout."

As you watch her pull her panties up, you notice how frazzled her hair has become and how much more closely she resembles the picture of your web whore that you had shown her earlier in the session. You smile as she bends down to pick up her bra and put it on.

"You can head out now," she says, reaching for her skirt. "I need to get ready for my next patient." She is regaining her professional demeanor, but there is still something flustered in her expression, as though she does not understand what happened and does not want to talk about it.

You wait till she starts buttoning her blouse before you leave the room and follow the signs to checkout. A nurse sitting with a patient looks at you curiously. You just nod and walk on.

You give your name to the woman at the checkout desk. She types several things into the computer and prints out a couple of referral forms for you. Then she says, "She wants to see you again in three months."

You are surprised. "It's usually six months."

The woman looks at the screen, puzzled. "Did she find something that needs closer attention and follow-up? Do you want me to call her?"

"No, that's okay. I can send her a message through the portal. Let's just set up an appointment. Late in the day, perhaps?"

You settle on a date and time, and you head home with your papers in hand and a smile on your face.