The Doctor is In

A Kellog Serial

"Hello, Doctor Andrews?" her voice quivered anxiously. "This is Amanda Stevens. Do you remember me?"

Indeed, I do, thought Dr. Andrews, as he answered the late night telephone call in his office. It was Wednesday. The day that he closed his office early so that he could catch up on his paperwork, which routinely took all night. Just five years out of completing his residency after an accelerated medical school program, he had been taught well by his professors and mentors, just how dangerous it was to fall behind in his record keeping. The lure of joining an HMO, with its hundreds and perhaps thousands of support personnel, always beckoned the loudest on Wednesday nights.

"Yes, I remember you, Amanda," the doctor said with a large grin, exhaling heavily and leaning way back in his swivel chair. "How could I forget my best patient?" His hand absent-mindedly found its way to his lap and he found himself gently stroking his flaccid cock with his thumb, as he reflected back on the image of Amanda Stevens's pretty face, framed perfectly by her youthful long blonde hair.

She was the real thing, he sighed silently to himself, tight, thin body, perfectly round breasts, flat stomach, firm ass, and long, tapered legs. He was relieved when he finally mustered up the courage to tell her three years ago when she turned sixteen that he couldn't be her doctor anymore. She was no longer in need of a pediatrician. She needed to see a regular internist. He sighed again, a part of him regretting his decision ever since. How he missed seeing her. Amanda's sunny personality always lit up the office and made him forget the mundane aspects of catering to the whims of over-anxious parents.

"How are you doing?" he asked, wondering why she had called him so late at night, and after all those years. He was glad to speak with her again, but he also sensed by her voice that something might be wrong.

"I -- I'm fine, Dr. Andrews," Amanda stammered.

"Good, good. Glad to hear it. To what do I owe the pleasure of your phone call? Checking up on me, again?" Dr. Andrews referred to the way that Amanda used to keep asking him about his own health, and about how he needed to stop working so hard and find a nice girlfriend. At the time, he thought it was cute, and flattering, that she would take such an active interest in his own life, when none of his other patients seemed to think of him as anything other than a dispenser of free medicine samples, otherwise routinely ignoring his sound medical advice.

"Well...," Amanda hesitated. "I have a favor to ask. How long are you going to be in your office?"

"Oh, about another hour or so," he replied. "What's up? Anything wrong?"

"Well, not exactly," she said, exaggerating her words. "It's...it's actually kind of embarrassing to talk about."

"Amanda, I know you. And you know me. We've been friends for a long time, haven't we?" Dr. Andrews said, using his well-practiced bedside manner. "Has it been so long that you can't tell me what's wrong?"

"Well...yeah...I mean...no...I mean....I kinda need to see a doctor, and you're the only one I could think of."

"Good, " Dr. Andrews encouraged. "I'm glad that you thought I could help you. But you know, you really should go see your family doctor, Dr. Zamora, if there's anything troubling you. You know that I can't treat you anymore."

"I knowww..." Amanda said dejectedly. "It's just that...well, I can't explain it right now. Can I just come by your office?"

"Of course," Dr. Andrews said, delighted at the prospect of seeing Amanda again. He had long been wondering how she had turned out after leaving his office. "But if it's an emergency, you should go to the emergency room," he added, instinctively covering his own ass in case it was a real emergency.

"I knowww..." she said again, like a teenager responding to an over-mindful parent. "I'm 19 years old. I'm not stooopid. Well, maybe I am. You'll see when I show you my problem."

"I know, I'm sorry," Dr. Andrews corrected himself. "I just want to make sure that you're alright. Can you make it down to my office okay? Do you remember where my office is?"

"I rememberrrr..." Amanda said in a sing-song voice. "How could I forget it? You used to make me cry."

"I did not!" Dr. Andrews protested in jest.

"You did so!" Amanda interrupted. "I used to hate getting those shots!"

"Yes, but you never cried."

"Not in your office, no," she said, her voice softening. "I didn't want you to see me cry, so I held it in until we got out to the car."

"I remember," he said, his voice softening as well. "You were always so brave." His voice was reflecting true emotion.

"It wasn't bravery," Amanda corrected. "Anyway, I'll be over in about twenty minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Twenty minutes. I'll see you then. Are you okay to drive?"

"I'm fine," she said in an exaggerated tone. "I just need your help with something, okay?"

"Okay, okay," he relented. "I'll see you in twenty minutes." Dr. Andrews hung up the phone and was startled by the realization that he had been stroking himself through the front of his slacks. This is no way to think about a former patient! he scolded himself.

Twenty-five minutes passed, and Dr. Andrews found himself anxiously watching the clock. He wondered where Amanda was, and about why she needed to see him. But mostly he was thinking about how good it would be to see her again, and how grown up she sounded on the telephone.

His wandering thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front office door opening and closing. "Dr. Andrews?" she called out.

"I'm in here!" he called back, a little too eagerly, as he jumped out of his chair, crossing his office floor to meet Amanda in the exterior waiting room. But he barely made it halfway across the room, when Amanda suddenly appeared in his office doorway.

"Hi, Dr. Andrews," Amanda said, holding out her hand. "Good to see you again."

Dr. Andrews was flustered. He couldn't believe how good his former patient looked, all grown up. Her youthful body had matured into a sexy blonde hardbody. His brain skipped a beat as his eyes took in her shapely form and long legs, packaged neatly inside a short, form-hugging blue dress.

"Good to see you, good to see you," he recovered. "You're looking healthy!" He held out his hand and shook Amanda's. Her skin was still baby soft, and her long slender fingers with well-manicured fingernails painted a near-transparent pink was a turn-on.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, motioning her towards the larger of his two examination rooms. "You said it was something important?"

He followed her into the examination room, admiring her beauty from behind.

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing," Amanda said, abruptly turning around at the side of the paper covered examination table. She was flattered to notice that Dr. Andrews had been checking her out. She had always had a crush on him, ever since she turned sixteen.

"You can tell me," Dr. Andrews said, adopting a fatherly tone. "What's the matter?"

"Well, you see," Amanda started, speaking quickly, "I was at home all alone tonight -- my parents went out to dinner at my brother's girlfriend's house -- and I was kinda snooping around my brother's bedroom. Y'see, my room is right next to his and sometimes I can hear him and his girlfriend making out at night....and the other night they were whispering and giggling about some kind of beads that really made Cindy -- that's my brother's girlfriend -- moan a lot....and I was kind of curious...so I opened his sock drawer and found these pink...balls on a kind of string...and nobody was home...and I kind of tried them....but I did it wrong....and now they're kind of stuck."

Dr. Andrews already knew where the story was going before she had gotten halfway through it. He had been trained to keep a professional demeanor, and no matter how ridiculous the story, not to laugh at a patient....or a former patient.

"I see," Dr. Andrews said matter-of-factly, knowing that Amanda was staring at him, measuring his reaction. "And you came to see me...."

"...to help me get them out," she said sheepishly. "I'm so embarrassed."

"No, no, nothing to be embarrassed about." He took a beat, contemplating what he should do next; whether he should follow his brain, or his dick. His brain won out. "You know, this is something you should see Dr. Zamora or an Ob/Gyn about."

"I know, I know," Amanda repeated. "But I didn't want it to go into my chart, y'know?" "It's kind of embarrassing, and I didn't know who else to turn to."

"I understand," Dr. Andrews said, chuckling lightly, and breaking the somber mood. "I can see why you might not want this in your permanent record." Then he thought again. "Are you sure you want to see me for this...uh... problem?"

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Amanda asked, with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Not if you ask me not to. You're an adult. I don't have to tell your parents anymore."

"Good," Amanda said. "Don't tell anyone. I won't tell anyone either. Can you help me?"

"Sure. Now, did you...uh...put them in your...uh...front or back?"

Amanda feigned shock. "In my back?!" "People put them up there?!"

Dr. Andrews laughed. "You'd be surprised what they teach you in medical school." Then he added, "Okay, how do you want to do this?"

Amanda laughed. "I guess we gotta take 'em out the same way I got them in!" Then she added thoughtfully, "By the way, how are you doing? Settle down yet?"

Dr. Andrews laughed. "No, no, not yet. But I'm doing fine. Thank you for asking." He looked at Amanda and was surprised to see her looking into his eyes flirtatiously. She smiled. She had just made a connection, and he knew that she knew that he knew it.

"You work too hard," she said. "You should learn to relax and have fun."

Then, before he could process the thought, Amanda suddenly turned around, so that her back was towards him. She pulled her long blonde hair over to one side, exposing her enticing neck and shoulder.

"Can you help me with the zipper?" she asked, suppressing a naughty smile. "It always sticks."

Dr. Andrews stepped forward and gingerly brought his trembling fingers to the top of her dress. He leaned in close, close enough to smell her light, floral perfume. As he pulled down on the zipper, he felt Amanda lean back into him, ever so slightly.

He stopped pulling on the zipper about a quarter of the way down her back. Not wanting to reveal too much.

"Can you pull it down a little more?" she asked, giggling softly. "I can't move very well with...well,...I can't move very well."

Dr. Andrews chuckled. "Sure, no problem." This time, he pulled the zipper down the rest of the way, his eyes drinking in the sight of her tanned, sun-browned skin, as the sides of the dress pulled away from each other. He was surprised to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her skin was so beautiful.

"Thanks, Dr. Andrews," Amanda purred, turning around to face him. "I'm glad you haven't gotten married yet." She turned to the side, standing in profile, and leaned up against the examining table, as she removed her dress, forcing it down her body and over her hips.

She pretended not to notice his reaction as she put on a small show, lowering her short blue dress down her long legs, and bending over with one leg straight, as she pulled the other leg through the top of the dress.

Bent over in this position, Amanda knew that her firm breasts, flat stomach, and long legs were best on display. She was also aware of how turned on she was, and wondered if Dr. Andrews had noticed how hard her nipples had become. If he hadn't yet, she thought, he would now.

Amanda stood upright and faced Dr. Andrews. Her young, firm breasts, topped by two erect buds, stood out at attention, defying gravity. She knew she looked incredible, standing there in only her high cut, French, lacey blue panties.

Reaching out and putting one hand on his shoulder, Amanda leaned to the side and took off her right sandal, switching hands and repeating the maneuver. She knew that if he had any doubt before, after getting a look at her near perfect tits close up, he would surely get the message now. He was being seduced.

Amanda looked him in the eyes, holding his attention as she impishly bit her lower lip, before turning around and walking over to the examination table. She stepped up on the stool, and turned around sitting on the edge of the padded table, as the sterile paper crinkled noisily beneath her firm ass.

Dr. Andrews stepped forward, and stood in front of her. For the first time in his career, he was unsure of what to do next. Instead, he just stood there, waiting for something to happen next.

Amanda giggled. "Oh, sorry," she said, as though suddenly realizing that she still had her panties on. "Do you mind?" she asked, leaning backwards on her arms and raising her asscheeks off of the table, offering her panties to him.

"No," Dr. Andrews chuckled. "I don't think that's such a good idea." As excited as he was, he knew by training that it was improper for him to take down his patient's underwear.

"Oh, sorry," she giggled. Amanda moved forward, sliding off of the table to her feet, making sure to rub up against Dr. Andrews's body as she did so. She was encouraged by the size of the hard lump in his pants.

Dr. Andrews instinctively backed away, and stared as Amanda hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties, pulling them down over her hips as she faced him. Dr. Andrews stared as her thin, wispy pubic hair came into view, neatly trimmed into a light patch above her clean-shaven pussy.

Then, instead of taking her panties all the way down, Amanda turned around and bent forward, locking her knees and spreading her long legs shoulder length apart, so that the thin fabric of her delicate panties was stretched between her thighs. Dr. Andrews could clearly see her swollen inner cunt lips which had puffed out and were dangling down from between her soft, creamy thighs.

Amanda paused to let him appreciate the view, and then went about the task of untangling her long legs from the delicate fabric. Dr. Andrews felt his cock start to twitch in his slacks. He flexed his long muscle out of instinct, causing it to swell with blood.

Now completely naked, Amanda turned to face the doctor, and with a great big smile on her face, she eased herself slowly back onto the examination table. She moved so sinewy that her bare body barely made a noise on the crinkly white paper. Her bright blue eyes locked onto his, as she held out her hands, inviting him closer.

Dr. Andrews dumbfoundly shuffled forward, then caught himself. He cleared his throat professionally, and then stepped to the sink in the corner of the examination room. Stooping over and reaching below the sink, he emerged with a thin pair of latex gloves. He caught her looking at him admiringly.

"You have a nice ass, y'know that doctor?" she joked.

Dr. Andrews wasn't sure how to react. "Uhhh...thank you," he said finally. "But that's really not your concern," he admonished her like a father.

"Oh...pishaww," she drawled. "There's nothing wrong with admiring a beautiful body." Dr. Andrews's dark brown eyes hungrily swept over Amanda's sexy form. She had indeed grown into a beautiful young woman.

"In fact..." she purred, "you're admiring my body right now, aren't you?" Amanda brought her hand up to her chest and swiped the side of her hand between her two firm mounds. "I don't mind," she whispered softly. "Do you like the way I've grown up?"

Amanda danced the delicate fingertips of her hands over her breasts, pulling gently on her hard, erect nipples. It felt good. Her young body was already hyper sensitive with anticipation. Her eyes closed as she drew in a sharp, but soft, breath, between the thin lips of her parted lips. Dr. Andrews had never seen anything so sexy before.

Amanda slowly opened her eyes, then, overtly allowed her eyes to draw down his body, tracing the same path down her own body with her own hands, eventually caressing her creamy inner thighs as she stared at the heavy mound in the front of his slacks. Her eyes moved to his gloved hands.

"Oh," she said suddenly, as though catching herself from making a grave mistake, "Don't use the gloves, I think I may be sensitive to them."

"Oh?" Dr. Andrews asked, taking on a clinical tone. "How long have you noticed that?" He absent mindedly looked around the room for Amanda's chart, intending to make a notation about the possible allergic reaction, then remembered that this office visit was going to be off the record.

"Oh, maybe a couple of years ago. I first noticed it after my ex-boyfriend and I started having sex. I would always get kind of tender down there afterwards. But I'm not sure if it's because of the latex, or because we were always kinda wild. We used to go for hours."

"Hours?!" Dr. Andrews nearly choked, while taking off his gloves. He went to go wash his hands clean of the powdery residue from the inside of the gloves.

"Well, sometimes he would cum kind of quickly, especially if I was too . . . enthusiastic, and I would end up having to . . . finish . . . all by myself, which could take me a long time, depending on who I was thinking about." Amanda's eyes grew wide, as though trying to express a secret without actually telling anyone. "And then he would get excited again, and we would go at it again and again and again."

"I see," Dr. Andrews said, with mock seriousness. He had finished washing and drying his hands, and had walked over to where she was sitting on the edge of the examination table. "That would explain the tenderness," he chuckled unintentionally.

"You're telling me," she joked. "And he couldn't even make me cum."

"Really?" he asked too enthusiastically, admonishing himself for taking such a lurid interest as he walked back to the side of the examination table.

"Yeah, none of my boyfriends could," she said dejectedly.

"Is there a problem? Is it uncomfortable for you? Are you too dry? Do you want me to prescribe a lubricant? Is it pleasurable?" he asked, again relapsing into his clinical training.

"Oh, no, it's fine," she said, smiling at his show of concern, reaching out to put her hand on his forearm, patting it reassuringly. "Everything's fine down there. I think it's more mental, then physical. I can get off, but only when I think about someone from my past who didn't want me."

"A girl?" he asked, matter-of-factly, believing that she was describing unrequited lesbian love. After all, no red-blooded male could ever refuse a girl like this.

"Me? A lesbian? No way!" she laughed, squeezing his arm. "I mean, I've thought about it, but I like guys. Especially that one guy from my past," she said, looking him in the eyes again.

"See, I can get wet when I'm turned on," she said, her eyes flashing as she leaned back, supporting her body on her left arm which reached out behind her, as she spread her cunt lips with the fingers of her other hand, showing him her sticky insides, "but I have to be thinking about him," she said, looking Dr. Andrews right in the eyes. "I can't even orgasm without thinking about him," she said, running the tip of her middle finger against the sticky opening of her pink pussy. "As you can tell, I've been thinking about him a lot lately."

"Oh, okay, uh, ahem," he said, clearing his throat in order to compose himself, "I think everything seems to be normal, then. "Now," he said, trying his best to sound professional, "what seems to be the trouble?"

"Well," Amanda said dramatically as she changed switched between stories. "Like I was saying earlier, I was kind of playing around when nobody else was home . . . and now it's stuck. Here, let me show you."

Amanda let her legs fall further apart and lifted her knees, so that her feet rested on the edge of the examination table. Still staring at Dr. Andrews, she brought her right hand up to her mouth and sucked on her middle finger, before lowering it back between her thighs.