Closer: A Blind Date Bad Boy Romance
Page 8
My heart sinks to my stomach. Every inch of me wants to scream no. Because I wanted to see a female gynecologist, not a male one. I figured a female doctor would be nicer and kinder, maybe even remember what it was like to be eighteen and laid out like a trussed up chicken in a cold exam room. So no, I didn’t want to see Dr. Morgan, not even if he was the best gynecologist on Earth.
But Emily smiles again placidly.
“He’s a really good doctor, honey,” she attempts to reassure me. “Very kind, warm and caring.”
Okay, that’s good. But there’s still one thing.
“Um, I was wondering if I could ask how old Dr. Morgan is?” comes my hesitant voice. “It’s not that I don’t think he’s good, I was just wondering?” My voice trails off.
The receptionist frowns.
“Well, this isn’t something that we generally give out. Age is such a touchy topic sometimes, even for male doctors. But let me see,” she says, turning back to her screen and clicking on her computer. “I can’t tell you how old Dr. Morgan is, but he got his medical degree in 1997. Does that help?”
Quickly, I do some math in my head. If you earn your medical degree at age twenty-five, that means that Dr. Morgan must be around about forty-five now. Phew! That’s old. He must be a doddering senior citizen, not someone young and hot who’d make me all nervous again.
“Okay thanks,” I smile, more confident now. “Sure, I’ll take the appointment no worries.”
“Perfect,” the receptionist nods. “Now if you’ll just follow me.”
And together we down the hall, my feet padding noiselessly. But there’s nothing to be scared about.
“I’m going to quickly take your height and weight measurements, if you don’t mind”, the receptionist says. “Then we’re headed to exam room B.”
“Okay,” is my whisper.
The scale makes a creaking sound as I stepped onto it because they have one of those old fashioned ones, with the weight that slides across the top. And again, it was just so embarrassing. The weight kept on moving to the right, then more, then more, then more, until I felt like we were almost at maximum capacity. Oh god. My cheeks flush once more, a humiliating burn that won’t go away.
But medical professionals are taught to stay neutral, so the receptionist says nothing, merely marking down a number on her chart.
“Perfect,” she says with another warm smile. “Let’s head to the exam room.”
And just like the reception area, the exam room isn’t bad. The walls are pale pink, decorated with pictures of cooing babies and cards saying, “Thank you Dr. Alba!”
As I look around, Emily places something paper thin in my hands.
“Put this on, sweetheart”, she instructs. “It’s an exam robe. Everything off underneath, the robe opens in front.”
My eyes widen. Open in front? Oh god. But of course. The doctor needs easy access to my most intimate parts, so it made a twisted sort of sense.
“Okay,” I nod my understanding. “Got it.”
“Perfect,” she says, letting herself out. “Dr. Morgan will be with you momentarily.”
The door closes and suddenly I’m alone again. Did the A/C come on without me noticing? Because suddenly, the air feels freezing cold and goose bumps raise on my arms and legs. Is this really happening? Was I really about to have my v-spot penetrated by some cold metal device? Was I really going to let an adult man inspect me, to look into my most secret spaces?
But it was too late. I was already here. It was going to happen.
But I tried to console myself. Let’s just get this over with, the voice in my head speaks. The sooner it happens, the sooner it’ll be over, it said reassuringly.
So I leapt into action. Better to attack this head-on then get caught with my panties around my ankles. Literally, with my panties around my ankles because the doctor would be here soon. So hastily, I removed my loose top and tight jeans, shucking off my shoes and socks.
But then nerves struck again. Because the nurse said everything off underneath, right? So slowly, I lowered the straps to my bra, letting my girls bounce free. They were huge as usual, firm and big, nipples already hard from the cold air. Oh god. A rush of insecurity ran down my spine then, making me shiver involuntarily.
Then I removed my panties, and immediately, a breeze wafted between my thighs, making me clench my legs together. It felt so strange being out in the open like this. Usually after a shower, I grab a towel and dry off immediately so that there’s no chill, getting dressed in a flash. So to be out in the open with cool air blowing against sensitive spots was new. Because the way the air flowed against my pussy lips felt good actually. Different, but good.
And experimenting, I spread my thighs a little wider to open up my private area. A stream of air from the vent up above hit my clit straight on and I shuddered involuntarily, eyes going wide. Wow, that felt good! Dirty and strange, but really, really good.
But no more. The doctor shouldn’t come in to find me playing with my clit, it’d be so embarrassing. So sighing, I slipped one arm into the top, then the other. Yep, there wasn’t much material at all.
With fumbling fingers, I tied the front ties closed, but let’s be honest. This thing was so flimsy, I could almost be naked. The robe gaped slightly, offering peekaboo access to my curves. And my butt jutted out like a prow in back, huge and luscious, ready to rumble.
I sighed. Nothing ever changes. I’ll always be curvy, no matter what I eat and how much I exercise. But at this point, I was just hoping that my size didn’t make the exam any more difficult. This thing just needed to happen as quickly as possible so that it’d be nothing more than a memory until next year.
After clutching the robe together, I sat gingerly on the exam table, white paper crinkling under my butt. It was comfy at least. I could almost see myself falling asleep or relaxing under totally different circumstances.
But right, I was here. This world was so new and threatening, given that I hardly ever see a doctor. Not even when I’m sick, the illness usually goes away on its own. But now I was an adult and everything was changing.
Nervously, I waited for the doctor to arrive. Each ticking second on the clock was like the pounding of a thousand heartbeats in my ear.
Stay calm, the voice inside directed. It won’t be so bad.
But then the door opened and Dr. Morgan came in, shaking me from my dreams. I gasped involuntarily, brown eyes wide, body going hot. Because the doctor was huge, gorgeous and mouthwateringly sexy. Blue eyes seared my skin, a movie-star perfect smile greeting me. Plus, oh god. His shoulders were so broad, tapering to a narrow vee that even the loose lab coat couldn’t hide.
My mind whirled furiously. What happens now? Dr. Morgan was going to touch me where again? This insanely hot guy was going to stroke my breasts, put things in my pussy, and potentially even rub my asshole? Suddenly, my insides grew soft, so wet and supple. Because shamefully … I wanted it.
CHAPTER TWO
Travis
As a traveling doctor, there’s no need to settle down or to establish a practice. Instead, I visit a variety of difference offices in a variety of different cities, states, and even countries, filling in when one or more of my colleagues needs a break.
And it’s been fun, for sure. I get to see the globe, medicine is a universal language. So it’s been one destination after another, visiting the Taj Mahal, the Louvre and Ayers Rock on the way.
And when my friend from medical school, Maura Alba, asked me to fill in for her while she took a vacation, I immediately agreed. Why not? It was good money, after all, and hey, I’d never seen New Jersey before. Frankly, I haven’t spent that much time stateside in the past twenty years, instead plying my trade in all sorts of far-flung places.
But now here I was in Perth, New Jersey, waiting for something fun to roll around. This city kinda sucks, to be honest. New Jersey has a reputation as the armpit of the United States, and I could see why after two weeks. Perth is grimy. The water
isn’t fluoridated. In fact, they’ve had a bunch of lead poisoning scares, supposedly from old pipes that hadn’t been replaced in centuries.
But it’s not just infrastructure problems. This place is boring. Everything shuts down by 8 p.m., and a lot of stores don’t even open on Sunday. How the fuck do they stay in business? Beats the hell out of me.
So yeah, shit wasn’t going to improve. Good thing my time here is almost up. I promised Maura two weeks max, and thank god, that’s right around the corner. So grabbing my clipboard, I strode down the hall, eager for the day to end.
Let’s see, who was my next patient? Probably another bimbo. One thing about Maura’s practice is that she has a lot of patients with no real health concerns. Just a bunch of middle-aged ladies desperately hoping to stay young forever. Most of these women kept begging me miracle potions and youth elixirs, but there really are none. It’s just sleep, exercise, and taking good care of yourself. The human body ages, there ain’t nothing that can stop the passage of time.
But just the same, these females were desperate. And I can see why. Their breasts were getting saggy, cunts loose after five kids. And yet they sought to preserve their MILF status with Barbie doll hair and Paris Hilton velour sweats. Not to mention the yoga pants. A bunch of ladies squeezed themselves into the tightest spandex shit, stuff that was supposed to make them look two sizes smaller.
Yeah right.
Again, nothing can stop the passage of time.
But still. They were trying in more ways than one. Because a couple old biddies have thrown themselves at me. Yeah, I’m a good-looking motherfucker, and these women have no ethics. They’re married with a passel of kids, but were those roadblocks? Did that cause them a moment of doubt?
Hell no. Instead, a bunch of Perth ladies have propositioned me already, shaking their boobs enticingly, pulling their vaginas open to give me the good one. But it’s a no go. Not only would my license be revoked, but it’s just not my thing. I don’t like bone-thin females who need a square meal. I don’t like women whose chests are concave, their breasts mere mosquito bites. I like hefty and full, with a real ass and generous tits. In my opinion, the United States has got it all wrong. Other countries that prefer big and bountiful are on the right track, appreciating the natural female form.
So yeah, being a traveling doctor works. I get my fill of curvy chicks from around the world, and there’s no need to stick with one woman either. I’m in a city for two weeks, then then a different country after that. There’s no hassle, no pain, no recriminations. There’s no relationship on the table, and most ladies get it. It’s global pussy for me. Variety is the spice of life, it keeps a man young.
But it was time to get to work.
Taking a look at the chart, I could see that my next patient was nothing more than a girl. Eighteen to be exact, with no history of smoking or drinking. No drinking? Seriously? I don’t trust people who don’t drink, it’s weird, like they don’t enjoy life.
As I reviewed her chart, my head shook once more. Hell, she sounded really boring, like a real Plain Jane, probably ugly as all hell too. Just my luck.
Whatever, it’s just a routine exam. I’m getting paid. It’d be over in no time.
I knocked, but there was no answer. And grabbing the doorknob, I pushed open the barrier, expecting to see an ugly girl waiting.
But instead, the gorgeous woman before me makes my cock stiffen. Blinking a little, I stare once more. This is Exam Room B, right? I’m not in the wrong place?
Because the woman is breathtaking. She immediately looks up at me, her wide brown eyes filled with innocence. Auburn curls brush her shoulders, bouncing lightly to and fro. Her face is like an angel, that pretty pink pout slightly parted, cheeks slightly flushed.
And even beneath that thin robe, I can tell she has a beautifully curvy body. Oh yeah, there are hills and valleys under there worthy of awards, their lushness barely covered by the paper robe.
Aw fuck.
I’m gonna touch that?
Hell yeah.
But it’s important to stay professional … at least for now. Covering my stiffening groin with my clipboard, I move forwards into the room.
“Miss Dorman?” I manage in a smooth drawl, like nothing’s wrong. “Jane Dorman?”
The brunette bites her lip for a moment.
“Yes, that’s me,” she replies. “Hello.” Her voice is sweet, like the song of an siren, with just a trace of nervousness.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Morgan, filling in for Dr. Alba today. You’re here for a regular check-up, right?”
She nods silently. But then a whisper comes.
“Yes. Actually, it’s my first time.” Her voice is so quiet that she’s almost whispering at this point, and my ears strain to catch those tones.
But aw shit.
Is this really her first time?
Hell yeah. Perth just got a lot better.
Because unprofessional or not, I wanted to see her pussy. I wanted to inspect a tight, fresh one, young and sweet. I wanted to look deep inside those gleaming folds while she waited, breathing hard, those massive boobies rising up and down.
But this is a professional exam. So my expression remained neutral.
“No worries. Is there anything I should know beforehand? Any medical problems? Have you been experiencing any pain?”
She bit her lip.
“No, Doctor.”
“Okay great. Well, I’ll begin by-“
But then the girl interrupts.
“Actually,” she begins slowly. Her cheeks grow pink, incredibly enticing. “I – I’m not sure if this matters, but I’m a virgin.” Again, her voice is almost a whisper, like she’s devastatingly embarrassed. Those big brown eyes dart away, cheeks flushing a deep red. “I thought you should know,” she says to the floor, not meeting my gaze.
Oh shit. My dick jerks stiffly under the clipboard, straining against the fabric of my pants. I thought when she said this was her first time, it meant that this was her first exam. Not that she’s never felt cock. But this isn’t a bad thing. The opposite in fact. This female has never had something deep within those sweet folds, never moaned in ecstasy during a furious session of heavy dicking.
And I’m just the guy for the job.
What the hell?
This is fucking crazy.
I’ll lose my license.
I’ll be prosecuted and tried as a sex offender.
But shit, my dick doesn’t care. It wants to taste this sweetness, and won’t give up.
So I smile reassuringly, maintaining a calm, professional demeanor.
“That’s fine. Everyone has a first exam.”
Her eyes return to mine for a moment, reflecting a mixture of surprise and hesitation. But then she exhales, and I can see the girl mentally summoning her courage.
“Okay,” she murmurs, still looking down. “I’m ready then.”
Putting the clipboard on the counter, I button the white lab coat so that my erection is hidden. Fuck, this thing is huge. My boner could probably drill a hole in solid rock right now, it aches just being in the presence of this beautiful virgin.
But she doesn’t know and I smile neutrally once more.
“Is it alright if I use my hands to inspect your body?”
She nods, signaling that it’s okay for me to make my move.
And slowly, I scan her body up and down, pretending like this is what I always do. In fact, the opposite. Most times I try not to see what’s before me. I look, but my brain is more like a machine, noting deficiencies, noting potential problem areas.
This time it’s different though. I’m soaking in the curves of this gorgeous female body. Every inch. Every sweet centimeter is burned on my retinas, even through the thin paper fabric.
“Lean back,” comes my rasp. Her eyes fly up to mine. Oh shit, that was too seductive. “Lean back,” I command this time, assertive yet neutral, and slowly, the woman tilts herself so that she’s resting against
the exam table.
“Perfect. Now I’m going to undo this robe.”
And with quick fingers, it’s done. The little ties were straining against Jane’s lusciousness, stretching and almost breaking, so they almost come apart on their own.
And then, the most glorious thing happens.
Her breasts actually break free from the paper robe, like straight out of a movie. They’re gorgeous and huge, even bigger than expected. The luscious sacks of cream hang ripe and firm, pink nipples pointed my way, hard as rocks.
Because my Plain Jane is aroused as fuck. Oh yeah, it’s cold in this exam room, they keep these places like freezers sometimes. But this kind of pebbling isn’t from the cold. This kind of stiffness is because she needs a man in her body, she needs a man’s mouth sucking those delectable tips, making her moan and scream.
So slowly, I rub my hands together, warming them up. Usually, latex gloves are called for, but in this case, I’ve conveniently “forgotten,” determined to squeeze those boobies skin against skin. Reaching forward, I take the massive weight of her right breast in both of my hands, lifting it up slightly.
“Does that hurt?”