Playing with Her Doctors

by S. E. Law

  “Yes, take me,” I whisper. “Trash my pussy and ass to make yourselves feel good. Use my holes. Treat me like a cumbucket.”

  Ranger growls behind me as Ryder smiles deviously. He’s got his huge cock in hand, and he’s rubbing the tip teasingly against the bottom of my clit. My pussy spasms in anticipation, as if trying to pull his dick inside.

  “I’d say she’s ready for it,” he smiles before slowly nudging my empty hole. Then he eases himself in, groaning with arousal at the tight fit.

  “Fuck,” is all he can manage. “You’re definitely all stuffed up.”

  I mewl again as that huge cock makes its way up my sweet channel. Is this really happening? Am I really getting one dick in my asshole and another in my creaming cunt as I’m sandwiched between two men?

  But dreams do come true, because once they’re both fully seated inside, they let out groans of pleasure.

  “You were built for us, baby,” growls Ryder.

  “Such a tight fit, but so perfect,” croons Ranger.

  With that, the heavy pounding begins. One goes into my ass as the other pulls out of my pussy. Then the pussy dick goes back in, as the ass dick pulls out, so that I have cock in me at all times. It feels amazing and my holes clench as my breasts bounce.

  “Oh god!” I mewl, throwing my arms around Ryder’s neck for balance, as I see-saw between these two huge members. “Take me!”

  “We are,” growls Ranger in back of me. “Fuck your butt is so tight!”

  And suddenly, it happens. Stars sparkle before my eyes and I let out a long squeal as waves of sensation drown my body. My cunt clenches and spasms around the two poles buried within, and I cry out again and again as streams of pussy juice erupt all over the men.

  Meanwhile, both Ryder and Ranger lose it too. Their dicks jerk in my body, hard, snapping against one another through my thin wall. Then gallons of cum are dumped in my pussy and ass, filling me full of heavenly man cream.

  “Fuck!” curses Ryder. “Oh shit!” he cries out, as his dick jerks and trembles within me, spraying me with his virile semen.

  Meanwhile, ropes of sperm are shooting into my asshole as well.

  “Take it,” grunts Ranger. “Oh fuck, how I love buttfucking you.”

  It’s true. Both men are spewing like they’ve never spewed before. Sperm flies into my body, and to my shame, both my pussy and ass eat it up, pumping on those hard dicks as if milking them for more. Ranger and Ryder give me everything, their hard bodies straining as they dump cum by the truckload.

  Finally, we finish and the three of us stop to pant and relax.

  “Wow,” I murmur, still heaving and trembling from the pleasure. My breasts feel sensitized, and Ryder leans down to suckle a nipple gently.

  “You’re amazing,” he says. “Absolutely wonderful.”

  Ranger growls his approval, even as he pulls out so that I’m standing on my own two feet again. Deliciously, huge gushes of sperm dribble from both my pussy and ass, and my knees almost buckle because my holes have been pounded so hard.

  “Careful,” chuckles Ryder, grabbing me around the waist so that I don’t collapse in a heap on the floor. “Sweetheart, you did so good.”

  I flush with happiness and well-being. It feels amazing to be used as their little pet, and I can’t wait to do it again. Meanwhile, as semen trails down my thigh, I throw them a flirtatious look.

  “Do you think I just conceived twins?” is my innocent question as the men’s gazes sharpen with arousal. “Or maybe even triplets? Given how hard you just came,” I say, indicating the stream of semen running down my thigh and ankle, and now almost all the way to the floor. “I think we must have accomplished a lot.”

  But Ryder and Ranger aren’t going to be outdone.

  “We got you pregnant with quadruplets,” says one.

  “Or quintuplets,” adds the other. “But we’re happy to try for sextuplets in a few minutes, if you want.”

  I smile happily, my body so achy and yet so contented. After all, I was made for these men, and by their comments, I know that they were made for me as well.

  19

  Ranger

  Being with Bethany is absolutely heavenly. We’ve been dating her for months now, and it’s been nothing but sheer pleasure and contentment. Pleasure, because she lets us use her body nine ways until Sunday. The girl is flexible and limber, and even better, never says no. If you want to put a dick in her butt, and another one in her pussy, she’s good with it. More than good, in fact. She’ll offer her mouth as a third hole, just in case you want to switch it up.

  But Bethie’s wanton ways make her perfect for us because that’s exactly how we think as well. Ryder and I need a woman with a strong sexual appetite, and who can handle two men simultaneously. Fortunately, Bethany has no problem in that sector.

  Not to mention, the girl’s personality is right for us as well. She’s charming and carefree, but also really intelligent and caring. She’s decided that she wants to be a part of our charity, and is working with the lawyer and accountant to get everything set up for Operation Smile. Not to mention, the firehouse visit is actually being put to good use. After we finish our first surgeries, we really are going to invite the kids to the firehouse for a small party to celebrate everything they’ve been through.

  In short, Bethany is perfect for us. We’d love to spend all of our evenings with her, but tonight, Ryder and I are staying home and taking a much needed break. Bethany wants to teach Danny some potty-training, which she said is best done at her apartment.

  “You sure baby?” I asked with a frown. “You know you can bring him here anytime,” I said, gesturing to the luxurious penthouse duplex. “There’s obviously plenty of space.”

  The pretty girl burst into peals of laughter.

  “Oh Ranger, you’re so nice but also impractical. Look how beautiful this place is,” she said, gesturing to the starkly white walls, luxurious cream-colored furniture, and expensive electronic appliances. “My son would mess all this up in no time.”

  I shake my head.

  “But that’s fine. There’s nothing a little stain remover can’t fix, and besides, I’ve been wanting to get rid of this shag rug,” I say, kicking at the furry white pile. “I’ve had my eye on a new one at Chanti’s for a while. Let Danny come and pee on it.”

  Bethany merely rolls her eyes.

  “Very kind of you, but I don’t think you want pee and poo stains all over everything. I’ll meet you on Friday, okay?” she asks, standing on tiptoe to give me a kiss, before turning to my friend. “Be good until then.”

  Ryder and I watch hungrily as she departs. That big butt bounces and her hips sway, with her brown curly hair falling in a waterfall over one shoulder. Mmm, I’m tempted to pull her back into our arms, but stop myself. Danny needs his mom, and I’m not going to disappoint the cute boy.

  As a result, my business partner and I are relaxing on a random Thursday night. It’s about time because we’ve been working like crazy at the practice, and then all our free time is spent with our beautiful girlfriend, ravishing her but also taking her to see new sights. We love showing the world to her, and to be honest, she helps expand our horizons as well. We have so much more appreciation for children, domestic life, as well as the female form because of Bethie.

  Randomly, I leaf through the latest issue of Plastic Times. It’s just some professional reading. There’s a woman on the cover who supposedly has had “good” plastic surgery, but to my trained eye, it looks terrible. The skin on her cheekbones is pulled too tightly, and her eyebrows look frozen in place, giving her that permanent “surprised” look. Plus, her lips are far too full. I’m not sure why the current trend these days is to look like a puffer fish, but so be it. You can’t talk a patient out of what she wants despite your best efforts.

  “Anything good?” asks Ryder. He’s looking over some charts, ever the hard-working physician.

  “Nah,” I shake my head. “Just some tips and tricks on how to do
the latest sutures. It’s fine. I’ve always been good at sewing, but you know, I’m not even sure it makes a difference these days. They have this new thread which is really fine and dissolves within weeks. Supposedly you can actually sew really badly, and it doesn’t even matter.”

  A lot of people giggle when they find out that Ryder and I are expert seamstresses, but it’s true in a way. As plastic surgeons, our sewing ability is prized, and we wield our needles with a steady hand. When it comes to the difference between a scar that’s healed seamlessly, and a scar that looks jagged and ugly, most people would prefer to come to us knowing that our skill is truly exquisite.

  Suddenly, my eyes land on a eye-catching headline: Medical Ethics: A Thing of the Past?

  That’s odd. What could this be about? There’s an anonymous article in the journal detailing some sketchy practices going on in our industry. It’s not just the usual chop shop schemes, where a fake doctor injects someone’s butt with low-grade silicone from Mexico. Nor is it the kind of plastic surgery horror stories where they used the wrong implant size, or accidentally gave an Asian woman a black woman’s nose.

  Instead, this article hits close to home. It discusses doctor-patient relationships, and how physicians are now pushing the boundaries of such relationships. I frown as I read. Although many people like to believe there are bright lines when practicing medicine, in fact there really aren’t because of the nature of the work. We ask women to take off all their clothes before us, and then touch them in all sorts of places that would otherwise be taboo. We ask them questions about their medical history, their smoking habits, how many children they have, and even whether or not they’re using birth control. The usual guidelines aren’t so clear when you think about the intimacy that can exist between a doctor and his patient

  But then my eyes begin to bulge because the story is creeping closer and closer to home. It’s discussing sexual relationships between doctors and patients, and how allegedly more and more physicians are taking advantage of a patient’s vulnerability. The breath stops in my throat the articles detail an alleged instance of malpractice. It describes a Park Avenue practice consisting of a handsome doctor duo who ravished a patient during her first consultation. It doesn’t mention any names, but my knuckles grow white and the magazines shakes as my fingers tremble.

  What the fuck? Of course, there are many doctors in New York City, and even thousands of plastic surgeons. But there aren’t that many practices on Park Avenue, and there aren’t many plastic surgery practices on Park Avenue which consist of two handsome doctors. Ryder and I are really the only ones because most of our colleagues are old, fat, or both. Medical school doesn’t exactly attract male models given the long hours and high cost.

  Fuck! What the hell is this? Why is someone writing about us in veiled terms? And how dare they? They don’t know the circumstances of what happened, so how can they accuse us of breaching medical ethics? What the fuck?

  “Is there a problem?” asks Ryder from the other side of the living room. He’s looking up from his chart with a bemused expression, that blue-eyed gaze clear. With trembling fingers, I hand him the article.

  He frowns as he reads it, quickly scanning the words. Then, my business partner takes a big breath, and puts down the magazine.

  “Well, this is complete horse shit. What the fuck? Who came up with this?”

  I shake my head with disgust.

  “It’s some BS article from nowhere. No one even wanted to put their name to it, so it’s just by the editorial board. What the fuck? How can journalistic standards be so low?”

  Ryder’s eyes narrow, his gaze going grim.

  “There’s only a few places the leak could have come from. I’m getting on the phone with Joy.”

  Oh fuck. Joy is our receptionist, but how could she know? Would she give us away? Ryder’s already dialing, and I lean in to listen.

  “Yeah, Joy,” he says roughly into the cell. “Have you seen that article in Plastic Times? Did you talk to any reporters recently?”

  There’s some gabbling at the other end, but then he hangs up.

  “No, she has no idea what we’re talking about at all. I mean, she could be lying, but I doubt it. Who else could it be? Christine?”

  I shake my head.

  “Christine works in Accounting and never pays attention to anything that doesn’t have to do with numbers. It’s not her. There’s really only once source …” I say, as my voice trails off.

  The expression on Ryder’s face grows even more grim.

  “Shit, we’re going to have to talk with her.”

  With that, we grab our coats and leave for Bethany’s place. It pains my heart to believe it, but is it possible? Did our girl give us away? Did she talk to a reporter, and discuss our relationship, thus creating the basis for this piece of shit exposé? I hope not, but what if she did?

  20

  Bethany

  There’s a pounding on my door, and I look up from where I’m changing Danny’s diaper. My son hasn’t quite caught on to using the potty yet, and as a result, we’ve had more than a few accidents today. There was the puddle of pee in the kitchen a few hours ago, and then the poo trickling down his leg just now. As a result, I’m taking a break. I’m putting on his training diapers and letting the plastic do the job as I catch my breath. Who knew having a toddler would be so challenging?

  But it’s all worth it. Having my son has opened new vistas before my eyes because before, I used to be about me. It was about finding purpose in my life; figuring out how to get ahead; and having fun because I could. Now, it’s still about purpose and meaning, but I’m not just doing it for me: I’m also doing it for my son. I’m far less self-centered, and much more forgiving of other peoples’ foibles and idiosyncrasies because nothing is perfect. We’re all human, and it’s divine to forgive.

  But right now, it’s all about getting Danny potty-trained. The banging comes again just as I pull up his pants and press a kiss to his blonde head.

  “Okay sweetheart, can you play in your room? Mommy has to see who it is, but then I’ll come and join you, okay?”

  He nods and babbles a yes before toddling off down the hall. What a cutie pie. My heart flips over as I watch his unsteady gait, and then with a sigh, I head over to the living room.

  “Coming, coming!” I call. “Just a sec.”

  Looking through the peephole, I see that it’s Ryder and Ranger. They’re gorgeous as usual, but there are dark looks on those handsome faces. I wonder what’s going on?

  After all, life has been good recently. I’ve settled into the job at Epinine Medical, and basically run the business side of the medical practice now. I’m in charge of accounting, human resources, and facilities, not to mention medical billing. Ugh. The amount of insurance paperwork is staggering, and I can see why there’s an entire industry built around this tedious job.

  But it’s okay because I have a knack for organization, and my boyfriends appreciate me for it. They show me their appreciation too, not just with kisses and stimulating pussy rubs, but also by showering my son with affection and trying to give Danny gifts all the time.

  “No, it’s not necessary,” I protested the last time Ryder pulled a giant firetruck out from behind his back. “He already has that firetruck you gave him last time!”

  “Yeah, but does he have one that’s three feet long with a ladder that extends?” he asks playfully as Danny jumps and yips by my side, waving his arms wildly. “Here you go, buddy. This is for you.”

  I can only watch with gratitude and exasperation as Ryder and Ranger dote on my son. They treat him like their own, even though Danny couldn’t look more different. Whereas my boyfriends are huge and dark, with bronzed skin and blazing blue eyes, my son is tiny and chubby, with blonde hair and an innocent, cherubic expression. Yet Danny has them wrapped around his little finger, and the men don’t mind.

  That’s part of the reason why I’m looking forward to having their babies. It’s clear that R
yder and Ranger place family first, and the way they’re so good to my son tells me that they’d do anything for our children too. The thought makes my pussy moisten and my womb literally contracts a bit in anticipation. I can’t wait to have their babies, and open the door with a smile.

  “Hi there. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  I step aside, and the two men come in, their expression grim. I wonder what’s going on for the umpteenth time. Ryder and Ranger can be intimidating, but in general, they’re happy guys. They don’t suffer from depression or melancholy, nor do they tend to dwell on the terrible parts of life.

  “How are you?” I say as they stalk over to the couch. “Coffee? Tea? Anything?”

  But the two men don’t sit. Instead, they glower at me a bit, and then say in a grim voice, “Sit.”

  I do as am told, plopping down onto the floral couch cushion.

  “What’s wrong?” I say with wide eyes. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  Grimly, Ryder hands me a copy of a magazine. I look dumbly at the cover. It’s called Plastic Times, and there’s a picture of a semi-famous blonde on front, smiling with toothy veneers. If you ask me, she’s a little scary looking and I wouldn’t make her my cover girl, but I guess professional magazines are looking to make a different point.

  “What is it?” I ask, totally befuddled.

  “Flip to page 49,” grinds out Ranger.

  With trembling fingers, I flip to the back. What is this? It’s an article about medical ethics, but surely, that has nothing to do with us, right? After all, what happened between us started months ago now. It seems like something it was practically from another life.

  “Do you know anything about this?” growls Ryder.

  I shake my head. The fine print blurs before my eyes.