White Coat and Stethoscope
She’s a very kinky girl. The kind you don’t take home from med school. But then, taking her home was the least of my worries.
I was working kind of late, catching up on some phone calls in the back office I share with two other osteopaths. I hadn’t even realized I was the last person there except for the receptionist Phyllis.
She knocked on my door when she heard me hang up the phone.
“There’s a young lady to see you, Doc,” said Phyllis, beaming. “Is this the one we’ve been hearing about?” Phyllis is 50 and thinks it’s a crime that I’m not married yet. “She’s very cute.”
I smiled at her. “Gina?” I asked.
“She didn’t give a name. She just said to tell you your next patient was here.” Phyllis winked at me.
“Send her back.”
“She said she’d wait for you,” Phyllis told me.
I puzzled at that. “Okay,” I said. “Tell her I’ll be right out.”
“Sure. I’m on my way home for the night, Doc. Don’t you two get frisky in here.”
“We won’t,” I said with absolute certainty. Phyllis always tries to make me blush, and always calls me “Doc.”
I tucked my things into my briefcase and put on my jacket. But when I went into the waiting room, Gina was nowhere to be found.
“Gina?” I called.
I walked into the back, calling Gina’s name. As I passed the second examination room, I stopped. I’d missed her on the way out.
“In here, Doctor,” said Gina.
She was on the exam table in a paper examination gown.
“I’m ready for my complete physical,” she said.
I knew Gina was kinky; in point of fact, I was kinky, too. We’d been going out for a month and I was always shy about springing my kinks on new girlfriends, but with Gina that wasn’t an issue; she brought it up. She’d coaxed me into pervy games in which she was always the subject of supposedly unwanted attentions. I’d tied her to the bed spread-eagled, fucked her and called her names while she whimpered and protested until she came. I’d put her over my knee and spanked her pretty ass as she wriggled and said “No, no, no, no, no.”
And she’d made shy little cracks about how sexy it was that I was a doctor. I figured it had to do with the disposable income, same as most other women I’d dated. I guess I didn’t know Gina as well as I thought I did. “Want to play doctor with me some time?” she’d cooed. “I’ll play doctor with you right now,” I’d told her, and wrestled her onto her belly.
I figured that’s as far as it went. But with a girl like Gina, you never can be too sure. When you poke and prod people all day, it doesn’t seem kinky to you; on the contrary, “playing doctor” seems like a chore, because you’re so conditioned to detach and not think of your patients with anything but concern and sympathy. But Gina, like all of my other patients, did have a problem she needed help with. I already knew it intimately, and I also knew that she’d have that problem at least every two hours whenever we were together. More often on weekends.
See, I turn off my crotch when I walk into my office.
And Gina had just turned it back on.
“I’ll be right with you,” I said, and went back to my office to get my white coat and stethoscope.
I straightened my tie on the way back.
Gina’s hair was in pigtails, and she had a shy expression on her face, looking nothing like the rampaging slut who would walk into her boyfriend’s office and ask for a physical. Her slim breasts tented the paper gown invitingly, and she hadn’t been too careful to tie it properly. I could see a long slice of her delicious leg, right up to her hip.
I shut the exam room door behind me.
“What seems to be the concern?” I asked her as I came toward the examination table.
“I seem to be suffering from increased libido,” she said.
“You don’t say.”
She nodded. I put the buds of the stethoscope in my ears and stood to the side of her, putting the cold stethoscope to her exposed back.
“Ooooh,” she said as it touched her, and a shudder went through her body.
“Breathe for me,” I said.
Gina began to breathe long and low, sultry, slutty, hungry for sex. The long, labored breathing of a woman in need. It was the sexiest breathing I’d ever heard from a patient. I couldn’t tear the stethoscope off her back, so rapturous were her great shivering lungfuls of lust.
When she whimpered lightly, quietly, in a way that would have been undetectable to anyone who didn’t have a stethoscope to her body, I felt my cock begin to stiffen.
“This increase in libido,” I asked her. “When does it occur?”
“Whenever I see my new boyfriend,” she told me. “He’s got a really big dick, and I can’t wait to suck it.” My ears plugged with the stethoscope, her voice sounded distant, echo-shrouded, tinny.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since the first time I saw him,” she said.
I moved the stethoscope around to her front and slipped it inside the paper gown, my hand cupping her breast and just barely brushing her nipple, which hardened as I leaned close and whispered: “Breathe.”
This time, her breaths were even deeper, slower, each one containing a low moan.
She gave the most girlish cough I had ever heard, perhaps the only time I’ve ever heard a sexy cough. It was sort of a cross between a sultry “Ahem” and a glottive “Oooooh.”
“And this boyfriend of yours,” I said. “Does he suffer the same problem?”
I took my hand out of her gown and she seized it and brought it to her lips.
“I don’t know yet,” she whispered, and her voice boomed in my ears. “I certainly hope so.”
“Sounds infectious,” I said. “We may have to quarantine you. By the way, that stethoscope has been touching sick people all day.”
“I’m sure they’re not as sick as me, Doctor,” she whispered into it.
“Of that,” I said, “I’m sure.”
I took off the stethoscope and draped it over my neck.
“Give it to me straight,” she said. “Is it terminal?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Put your feet in the stirrups.”
Her eyes widened and brightened, and the corners of her lips turned upward in a clandestine smile. She stiffened and said, in a serious voice:
I went behind her and lifted the table into a reclining position. She put her bare feet up in the stirrups, spreading her legs wide. The paper gown flapped invitingly in the breeze from the air conditioning.
I put on a rubber glove and squeezed out some lubricant.
As it turned out, I didn’t need it, even with the glove.
“Oooooh!” Gina gasped as I slid my fingers into her. Her pussy was swollen and wet with desire, warm and hungry. I could feel her muscles tightening around my fingers, those legendary muscles I had felt so many times around my cock.
“Excellent muscle tone,” I said. “Do you exercise regularly?”
“It depends on how much my boyfriend has to work,” said Gina, her voice quavering as I slid my fingers deeper into her and pressed firmly against the walls of her cunt.
Gina’s the only woman I’ve known who really does work on the muscles of her cunt, clenching and unclenching them one hundred times each morning while she looks in the mirror. I could feel the results as my fingers slid in and out of her.
“Do you know what’s wrong with me yet?” she asked, her voice low.
“I have an inkling,” I said. “But it’s very important not to rush a diagnosis.”
I slid my fingers out of her and began to touch her clit, clinical at first, then slower, more teasing. Her clit was hard, and I could see her trembling, trying to stifle her moans as I rubbed it. I slid two fingers back inside her, finger-fucking her as I stroked her clit with the pad of my thumb, matching the rhythms to those of her labored breathing. Normally Gina goes crazy when she’s close to coming, her ass pumping against me, her whole body twisting and shuddering as she claws the bed and throws her head back and wails. This time, she worked against herself, holding still. She came hard even though she did it without ever moving her hips, letting me do all the fucking. Her lips parted and she let out a long, low groan of pleasure, her eyes moist and wide in mine as her pussy clenched in spasms around my fingers.
“Wh… what’s wrong with me, Doctor?”
I slipped my fingers out of her and snapped off the glove, firing it into the gleaming silver can.
“I’m afraid it’s serious,” I said.
“Give it to me straight, Doctor.”
“You’ve got priapism.”
I nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“You don’t see much of that in women, do you?”
“In girls like you, yes.”
“Is there a treatment?”
“Only one,” I said, and unzipped my pants.
I had never realized before — how could I? — that with Gina’s body size and mine, an exam table was at exactly the right height for me to fuck her. I ran the head of my hard cock up and down between her lips, hearing her moan softly as I teased her clit with it.
Gina’s pussy was oozing lube, but even that slickness couldn’t hide how tight and firm her muscles were. I leaned forward between her stirrup-spread legs and kissed her hard as I entered her. The illusion of the scene lost in her overriding hunger, she put her arms around me and leaned back on the table, letting me bear her against it as I fucked her hard, pumping between her smooth thighs as I tore at the paper gown, reducing it to shreds so I could run the palms of my hands over her nipples as I fucked her. That always drives Gina over the edge, and she came just before I did, her hips, this time, desperately trying to pump against me even as I pinned them to the table. I shot deep into her, lubing her up more with my warm, thick come.
I pulled out of her, tucked my cock away, and zipped my pants.
“Am I cured, Doctor?” she asked.
“Not even close,” I said. “You’ll need daily treatment. Hourly on weekends.”
“Oh, goody,” she said. “And then I’ll be cured?”
“No,” I said. “I’m afraid it’s incurable.”
She pouted. “You’re quite sure?”
“Well, the research is still being done,” I said. “Perhaps you’d like to be a case study?”
“As long as you don’t give me a placebo,” she said.
“I won’t,” I told her. “I’ll make sure you get the real thing.”
She’s a very kinky girl. But maybe I will take her home from med school after all.