College Clinic Doctor

Though the incredible experience with my patient at the university clinic---Julie---who came for advice and help with leading her boyfriend Jonas past the stage of having her finger inside his asshole while she sucked his cock is one I have never told anyone about, I did share some details about one examination that pushed beyond all boundaries of professional propriety. I told my girlfriends about what a delight it was to give a track athlete---a sprinter---his annual athletic scholarship exam. What made it so delicious, and what clearly interested and aroused my friends, was the fact that Marcus (I didn't use his name when talking with my friends) was one of those cocky jocks who believes his own PR. But what REALLY intensified the entire experience was that Marcus' obstinance meant I had to adopt a stern schoolmarm demeanor with him.

At least, that was necessary in the beginning of his examination. Once he understood that his exam was inevitable and would be very thorough (I trumped all his bravado and finagling meant to avoid the exam with the simple phrase, "NCAA investigation"), things became that much more enjoyable for me, as you will see.

The narrative I provided to my friends was a mere synopsis and only proceeded through the part of the tale in which my gloved fingers slid home deep inside Marcus' delicious ass. You will see why I went no further with the tale. Nonetheless, my friends giggled and listened in rapt attention when I related how it was necessary to administer two open-palmed swats (rapid succession, alternating cheeks, none too lightly) and a warning that the track star's coach would hear of his recalcitrant behavior if he did not spread his legs and bend over my examination table. Two of the "the girls" actually came to one of the university's track meets the following spring just to see the college's sprinters "on the hoof."

Tracey and Joanna, my two friends who came to the track meet, told me later that their favorite part was when the sprinters lined up in the starting blocks. Heads and shoulders down, asses high in the air, strong leg muscles flexing in advance of the starting pistol's shot, snug track shorts clinging to firm backsides with just a hint of that enticing cleft between their cheeks . . . well, you get the idea.

However, I HAVE one time related in far more complete detail than I shared with my friends what happened during Marcus' examination.

I found that the circumstances under which I told the entire story, and the way I carefully described all the details, all the words said and reactions experienced---mine as well as that of my patient---conspired to create an even MORE arousing scenario for me than when I toyed with Marcus and consummated a truly nasty, totally unprofessional, and completely overpoweringly erotic act with the handsome stud.

I would not have believed that possible. That anything could surpass in pure eroticism what happened in my examination room that night and make me even more crazy with animal lust to take a man . . . how could that happen?

I will tell you.

I had the middle finger of my left hand buried as deep as I could get it inside my gorgeous Eric's asshole, and I was teasing him unmercifully with my right hand, sliding my fist up and down his pulsing, erect cock as I stood beside him. He was naked. I was in my bra and panties. The crotch of my panties, as you can imagine, was soaked.

Fastened around Eric's cock and balls was the shiny black leather cock ring I had bought for him several weeks earlier as a "just because" present. ("Just because" I so very much love to see his gorgeous naked penis, to play with it, lick it, as I lean close to his crotch to help him into this delightful, tiny leather garment!)

I have said before that I am perhaps the luckiest woman in the world to have found a lover like Eric. We sometimes enjoy a steamy role play, and I had planned this one. I wanted to tease him beyond all limits of endurance, to make him so hot to throw me down and fuck me hard that when he could not possibly tolerate one more second of my nasty tale whispered into his ear as my insistent hands worked magic on his asshole and cock, he would tear off the cock ring and carry me in his strong arms to bed.

Where he would pound me like I was desperate to be taken.

Sometimes I get like that. It's not "ladylike." I enjoy it NOT being "ladylike."

My townhome has one of those "home office" rooms---the kind with the double french doors that open into the room just off the foyer. As a townhome, the ceilings are the standard eight feet high, so the top of the doorframe where the french doors are is reachable by my man when he stretches his muscular arms up to grip the molding.

Imagine how this looks when a man is naked, his legs spread apart slightly, his cock upright and throbbing. It is crazysexyhot. Because the doorway opening accommodates double french doors, there is plenty of room for a woman to circle her naked man, trailing her fingertips up his rib cage, down across his taut, naked ass, over his strong chest. If he remains in this position, he is completely available to her.

It did not take me long to imagine such a fine use for the entrance to my home office. If Eric and I marry, as I hope, I know there will be at least one double-door opening in the house we buy. Its absence would be a deal-breaker.

He is not restrained when I tease him like this. He enjoys it. He surrenders to it. The feeling of my hands running down his sexy six-pack as I press my tits into his back drives him wild.

If he drops his hands to circle my waist and kiss me before our game is concluded, he earns two swats---just like I describe giving to the truculent track star in my tale.

Sometimes I think he does this on purpose.

Having dressed him appropriately---the single, narrow band of leather studded with metal snaps that circled and framed my personal playthings---I was ready to amuse and arouse myself fondling his cock and balls during the entire telling of the tale.

"Eric, baby, you look so hot like this," I said as he reached for the doorframe. "God, I love seeing your naked body. I love playing with it, getting you turned on and hot. I adore making you feel good, my love."

His eyes twinkling, he responded, "Any time you want my body, just ask."

I grabbed one firm cheek and said, "How about if sometimes I tell you I will have it, and then I take it. Will that work, too?"

I placed my other hand on his opposite cheek and spread him open to my gaze.

"You know it will."

God, what a man!

I leaned down and kissed his naked ass, lingering there, drawing in the scent of him, brushing my lips across his firm flesh.

"Are you ready for me to make you crazy to fuck me?"

"Mmmmmm."

"Are you ready to be teased until the only thing preventing a massive orgasm is this cock ring?" I asked, reaching between his legs, my mouth still close to his naked butt. I ran my fingers around the smooth leather. I weighed his balls in my palm.

"Mmmmmm."

"Are you ready for me to stroke your cock---MY cock---as I tell you a sexy story?"

"Baby, you're teasing me about teasing me. You are one naughty girl!"

I laughed as I stood up and circled in front of him. "I am VERY naughty. I'm going to tell you about a very special examination I gave one of the student athletes at the university."

Walking to my desk in the office, I picked up the bottle of lube and turned toward Eric, drinking in the sexy sight before me: My man, naked, stretched up in front of me, his cock and balls framed enticingly by the cock ring, his nude torso on display for my pleasure. I lingered, drawing out his anticipation. I smiled at him.

"I like you in this position. It makes me very wet. Maybe I'll slide a finger inside my panties and rub my clit for just a moment."

I did, leaning back on the edge of my desk and putting the bottle down on its surface. He watched. His cock began to rise.

"Oh, it feels good, Eric. I'm thinking how much better your tongue might feel, though."

His cock twitched on its ascent.

"Remember, I'm only holding this doorframe," he said. "I can let go at any time and come over there and tear off those panties, spread your pussy lips open, and slip my tongue inside you before I move up to your clit and start licking and sucking." His gaze darted from my eyes to my crotch and back.

God, I love it when he talks dirty to me!

"But you won't, baby," I said, slipping my finger out of my panties as I straightened and took the two steps' distance that separated us in my small office. "You want what I'm going to do to you. When I get started, you won't want it to stop." I placed my finger, moist with the wetness I had collected, on his lips. "And I'm very wet and excited about doing it to you."

I pushed my finger between his lips.

Would he one day suck on the strap-on dildo we had bought the way he was now sucking my finger?

Withdrawing my finger I walked back to the desk and opened the bottle of lube. I talked to him as I poured some of the liquid into my palm as I stepped in front of him. "It's a very, very nasty story that I'm going to tell you." I wrapped my fist around his cock, slathering the lube up and down the shaft. "You won't believe how hot it will make you to hear it, though." I stepped behind him and insinuated my slippery palm in between his cheeks by cupping his butt and then sliding my hand upward and turning it to coat first one side of the cleft between his cheeks, and then the other. "You'll be seeing in your mind the action in my story." I poured out more lube, this time concentrating on spreading it across his cute little asshole. "You'll be seeing me do things to the student athlete that will shock you, but make you harder and hotter than you've ever been in your life, Eric."

I finished with the lube.

"Can you handle that?"

Poor baby. I hadn't even begun my story, and he was already aroused, trembling.

"I will try," my lovely man said. "I will definitely try." He grinned at me as I looked over my shoulder at him while I stepped back to the desk to drop the bottle of lube on the desk top.

"Mmmmm, I like that," I said, sashaying back to stand in front of him and grab his erect dick in my right hand. "I'm going to play with you while you imagine what I'm doing to my patient. What if it were you in my story, Eric? Would that make it even hotter?"

"You are really, really pushing my buttons," Eric said, his voice husky. "We are truly going to find out if this cock ring will stop me from spurting."

"Oh, I'm going to slow down and take my hand away when I feel you're getting too close, baby."

I AM a terrible tease. A horrible tease. A wonderful tease.

And I love it.

Moving to his side, I slid one finger of my left hand between his lubricated cheeks, stroking lightly as I began my story. "Let's say this track star's name is---let me think---I know: 'Eric.' Let's say his name is Eric and he has these gorgeous brown eyes that he thinks will get him what he wants because he's on a full athletic scholarship, with stories in the school paper during track season full of his exploits."

Eric adjusted his stance. He spread his legs a little bit wider apart.

What a dear!

"What Eric the track star said to me the first time he walked into my office," I began, leaning close to my Eric's side to talk softly and sexily to him as I manipulated his cock, his balls, and his darling, naked ass, "did not start things off on the right foot with me . . ."

* * *

"Look, Dr. Greene, I know everything's fine. I have to show proof of a physical at the start of each training season, though, so if you need to just skip some stuff, that'd be great. All I need is the piece of paper to give to the coach. Paperwork is all it is."

The examination did not begin on a positive note, those being the first words out of Eric's mouth. I take a dim view of know-it-all college boys suggesting how I should do my job.

"Let's see," I looked at this patient's chart, "Mr. Destin, the examination request from the athletic department calls for a complete physical." I looked him directly in the eye. He was off on the wrong foot with me, and my statement and gaze let him know it.

He backed off a little bit.

"I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, Dr. Greene." A slight nervousness crept into his demeanor. I enjoyed seeing that. "But I know you're busy and . . ." He trailed off, giving me a puppy-dog look.

"Do the words, 'NCAA investigation,' mean anything to you, Mr. Destin?'

He was completely taken aback. Before he could speak, I provided a follow-up: "The athletic department plays closely by the rules now. You remember the scandal two years ago? They make clear in no uncertain terms that everything is by the book when any department here on campus works with athletes. The clinic is no exception. This will be a complete physical."

Eric continued to press the point.

"Coach looks out for us, Dr. Greene. I'm sure he'll--"

I cut him off. "I'm sure he'll expect that I follow the procedures to the letter. Yes, yes, I know you're right," I said, looking again at this boy's chart. I didn't look up to see his reaction to the brush-off I'd just given him and his idea about "Coach" being okay with my signature on a form unsubstantiated by the actual exam.

I let Eric stew for a few seconds. I waited him out. Testing him. Anticipating another attempt to squirm out of his physical. In truth, I hoped the brush-off would spark a little bit of petulance or anger, to which I would be able to respond.

It took about 30 seconds for his next attempt. I enjoyed letting a heavy silence fall between us as I gazed down at his chart. Maybe he was expecting me to say something conciliatory. I did not, and by the time he did speak, I'd found what I needed on his chart.

"Last year Dr. Mays did, like, an eye-ear-throat thing and then he signed--"

"Mr. Destin," I said in exasperation, slapping my pen down on the clip chart, "I think we have clearly established that this examination is proceeding." I glared at him for a second, then put the pen into the pocket of my smock and held his chart in one hand while sliding a finger of the other down the page. "I also see that you've procrastinated about coming in. This form is due back to the athletic department on Wednesday."

It was Monday afternoon. College students are notorious for putting off anything having to do with examinations, whether studying for them or getting into the clinic to submit to them.

He didn't respond. Sulking.

"Further, I see that you have a family history of diabetes. Uncle on your mother's side. Did it ever occur to you that this exam might require something like---oh, what could it be?---maybe a fasting period right before a glucose test for blood sugar?"

That caught him off guard more than the comment about the NCAA.

"Fasting? Like not eating anything?"

I shot him a condescending smile. "Exactly. And now here it is Monday, and your waiting around until the last minute has just about gotten you into trouble that would have required me to report to 'Coach' that you didn't show up for your exam in time to allow for a thorough check-up."

That touched a nerve. I could see it in his reaction.

Then I set the trap.

"Are you ashamed of something, Mr. Destin? That's often a reason people put off going to see the doctor." I was looking directly at him when I spoke, and I made sure that he caught the very slight movement of my eyes toward his crotch when I said the words, "ashamed of something." I wasn't brazen. Indeed, my eyes went down only to mid-chest for a split-second.

When toying with young men, innuendo is powerful. It is perhaps one of the few times when they successfully read between the lines when communicating with women.

Observing his response was delightful. A blush of embarrassment on a conceited athlete is delicious. In Eric's case, I wondered if the blush I saw on the cheeks of his face would match the blush that might have to appear on his naked ass if he didn't follow my directions to the letter during his exam and in exasperation I had to grab his firm butt and put it into position across my exam table. The flush on his countenance made me linger on that thought.

"Just don't like physicals," was his curt response.

He knew what the physical would entail. And I knew that's what he was so worked up about. As an athlete, he would have had many physicals as prerequisites to be allowed to engage in sports, especially given the litigious environment of public education and school systems' desires to avoid lawsuits brought by parents of out-of-shape kids trying out for the school team. Either he didn't like prostate exams, or he liked them too much to trust his reactions when my fingers slid up inside him.

I would enjoy myself in either case.

"Let's see if we can start over, Mr. Destin." I walked to the counter and laid down the clip chart. "Listen carefully and follow my instructions." I tore off a sheet of paper from the pad on the counter and began scribbling the directions I was giving him orally. "Eat a normal dinner this evening, but finish before 8 p.m. Eat nothing more after that. You may drink water this evening and all day tomorrow, but don't eat anything. Return here tomorrow night at 8 p.m., and we'll do your physical, which will include drawing a little blood for the fasted-state glucose test."

Handing him the sheet, I once again looked directly at him and said, "Make the appointment with the receptionist on your way out."

Dismissing him, I turned back to the counter and began looking again at his chart. He stood holding the paper for a few moments, started to say something but thought better of it, and walked toward the door.

Without looking up, I said, "And Mr. Destin, please be sure you have washed thoroughly back there," and I pointed to the back of his jeans as he stood in front of the door, "because I would hate to have to tutor you in personal hygiene as part of your physical." Then I was once again engrossed in the information on the clip chart. Or so he thought. In truth, I was smirking and listening for a huff of indignation as he walked out the door.

It didn't come, but the way he jerked open the door told me that the manner in which I had toyed with Eric's psychological manhood was a quite successful prelude to the way other aspects of his manhood would be handled during his examination. I wasn't worried that he'd fail to clean up before a physical—no, that wasn't the reason for my comment. I was playing with his head, setting up the encounter for the following evening when I would enjoy teasing out one objection after another to the humiliations he would endure before giving himself up, finally, to a pleasure that only his surrender would allow.

It had been too long since I had chipped away at some young stud's machismo, using my position of authority to press point after point until his initial swagger devolved into huffy objections which then weakened into pleas not to do what I was going to do to him. Oh, those struggling, plaintive and worried requests—the delicious begging—I would enjoy those thoroughly because they inevitably gave way to the subject's realization that ultimate surrender brought with it a pleasure he would not have discovered otherwise.

I was wet with anticipation as I heard Eric's footsteps fade down the hall.

* * * (My own Eric was squirming under my careful manipulations as I jumped forward in the story to the next evening when athlete Eric entered my exam room.)

"I'm glad to see you were punctual, Mr. Destin. This is the last appointment for me tonight. It was fortunate I had the slot open. Though Tuesday nights aren't usually busy, you would have been screwed if I had been booked already." The word "screwed" shook him momentarily out of his moody, sulking demeanor as he sat on the edge of my examination table. I chose the word deliberately. It would set a tone.