Laura Sweet and her desperate patient
Mr. Simmons shuffled into the office, his eyes scanning the room nervously. The walls were a soothing shade of blue, but they couldn't ease the tension in his shoulders. He clutched his hat in his hands as he took in the sight of Dr. Sweet. She was young, much younger than he'd expected, with a gentle smile that barely touched the corners of her lips. Her scrubs were a baby blue, a stark contrast to the dark wooden furniture that filled the space. She looked up from her desk, her green eyes meeting his for a brief moment before she turned her gaze back to her notes.
Dr. Sweet was dressed in a way that made her seem professional, yet approachable. Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail that bobbed slightly as she moved. The scrubs fit her slender frame just right, hinting at the fit body beneath them. The name tag pinned to her chest read "Dr. Laura Sweet, M.D." in bold letters. She couldn't have been more than 30, Mr. Simmons thought to himself, feeling the weight of his 70 years as he settled into the chair.
Mr. Simmons, on the other hand, looked his age. He was a man who had lived a full life, with a belly that spoke of many good meals and a face lined with the stories of those years. His clothes were a bit outdated, but they were clean and well-kept. He wore a simple button-up shirt and slacks, his shoes polished to a mirror shine. His eyes searched the room, looking for anything that could offer some comfort or distraction from the embarrassing situation he found himself in.
The air in the room was thick with tension as the silence stretched on. Dr. Sweet cleared her throat, breaking the quiet. "What brings you in today, Mr. Simmons?" she asked, her voice calm and even. She clicked her pen and waited patiently for his reply, her hand poised to write down his woes. Mr. Simmons took a deep breath and began his tale, hoping she would be able to help him with his most personal of issues.
"Well, doctor," he began, his voice shaking slightly, "I took some of that... you know, the little blue pill." He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding eye contact. "It's been more than four hours, and... and it hasn't gone down," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a shade of red that matched the blood rushing to his cock. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the embarrassment was clear in every syllable.
Dr. Sweet's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, I see," she said, her professional mask slipping just a bit. "How much did you take?" She knew the typical dose was one pill, but she had to ask to gauge the severity of his situation.
"Just one, I swear!" Mr. Simmons said quickly, raising his hand as if taking an oath. "But it's just, you know, it won't go away!" His desperation was palpable as he fidgeted with his hat, his other hand unconsciously reaching down to adjust his crotch.
The doctor nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. She'd seen many strange things in her time as a doctor, but this was a first. "Okay," she said, "Let's not panic. Have you tried to... relieve the pressure in any way?"
Mr. Simmons' face contorted in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Well," she said delicately, "you know, masturbation can sometimes help with situations like this. Have you tried that?" She watched his expression closely, looking for any signs of understanding or relief.
His eyes widened. "You mean... jerk off?" he whispered, horrified.
"It's a medical solution, Mr. Simmons," Dr. Sweet assured him, her voice firm but kind. "It's perfectly natural, and sometimes necessary."
Mr. Simmons swallowed hard, his mind racing. "But what if it doesn't work?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"If that doesn't work, we'll have to explore other options," she said, her pen tapping against the pad of paper on her desk. "But for now, let's start there. Can you go to the bathroom and try that for me?"
Mr. Simmons nodded, his face red as a beet, and shuffled out of the room. The moment the door closed, Dr. Sweet leaned back in her chair and let out a low whistle. "Well," she murmured to herself, "This is going to be an interesting day." She couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the old man. After all, everyone wanted to feel young and virile again. She just hoped that this situation wouldn't get out of hand.
After what felt like an eternity, but was actually closer to ten minutes, she decided to check on her patient. Knocking gently on the bathroom door, she called out, "Mr. Simmons? Are you okay in there?"
There was a long pause before a muffled voice replied, "Doctor Sweet?"
"Yes, it's me. How are you doing?"
"I can't even pee," he said, his voice strained.
"What seems to be the problem?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She stepped closer to the door, her hand on the knob, ready to offer assistance if needed.
"It's just hard," Mr. Simmons groaned.
"Well, that's understandable," Dr. Sweet said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. She was a professional, after all. "Can I come in and take a look?"
"I... I don't know," Mr. Simmons stammered. "It's really not a pretty sight."
"Mr. Simmons, I've seen worse," Dr. Sweet assured him, though she couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive about what she might find. She'd seen plenty of erections before, but never one that had lasted for hours due to an overdose of Viagra.
With a deep sigh, Mr. Simmons opened the bathroom door a crack, revealing his swollen, red member that was standing tall and proud, seemingly refusing to subside. The sight of it made Dr. Sweet's eyes widen, but she quickly composed herself, pushing the door open wider and stepping inside.
"Let me see," she said, her voice steady.
Before she knew it, Mr. Simmons had grabbed her hand and placed it firmly on his cock. The heat radiating from it was intense, and she could feel the throbbing pulse beneath her palm. It was clear that he was in a lot of pain and discomfort.
"Well what if you just..." he pleaded, his voice desperate.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she could see the desperation in them. "Ohh, you know I'm a doctor, not a surrogate," she said, trying to gently remove her hand. But he was insistent, his grip tightening. "Besides, I'm in a relationship," she added, hoping that would be the end of it.
But Mr. Simmons was not easily deterred. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking with need. "I'm in so much pain, I can't even pee."
Dr. Sweet took a deep breath, weighing her professionalism against the urgency of the situation. "Alright," she relented, "but just this once. And you can't tell anyone about this."
With trembling hands, she began to stroke his cock, her eyes never leaving his face. She could see the tension in his features begin to ease, his breathing growing heavier. She worked him over gently, trying to remember what she'd learned in her textbooks about this kind of thing. It had never been covered in any of her medical school classes, but she knew that the goal was to help him reach climax.
As she stroked, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation. Here she was, a respected doctor, reduced to giving a handjob to an elderly man in her office bathroom. But she had taken an oath to help her patients, and she couldn't ignore the pain and panic in his eyes. Plus, she had to admit, there was something strangely erotic about the power she held in this moment.
Mr. Simmons' moans grew louder, his hands reaching out to grip the edge of the sink for support. His knees were wobbly, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He looked down at her hand, watching her slender fingers move with surprising skill. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement.
Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed Dr. Sweet's wrist, stopping her movements. She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tight.
"It's not working," he panted, his face a mix of frustration and pain. "It's just too... too sensitive."
Her grip tightened, and she leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to cup his balls. She had to admit, she was getting a bit turned on by the situation. "Let's just try again," she murmured, her voice low and soothing. "I'll go a little slower this time."
As she began to stroke him once more, Mr. Simmons' body tensed up. He was so close, yet so far. "Please," he begged, his eyes squeezed shut. "I need to..."
Without thinking, Dr. Sweet leaned down and took the head of his cock into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip. Mr. Simmons' eyes shot open in shock, his hand moving to the back of her head to guide her movements. He'd never felt anything like this before. The warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her saliva, the pressure... it was all too much to handle.
The doctor could feel him swelling in her mouth, his grip on her hair tightening. She knew he was close.
Her own arousal was a surprise to her, but she couldn't deny the wetness that had formed between her thighs as she worked his cock. She had to be careful not to let her own desires take over, focusing instead on the task at hand. The head of his cock was now slick with her saliva, and she could feel the pulse of his veins as they throbbed against her tongue.
Her hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently as she took more of him into her mouth. She could feel his whole body shaking, and she knew it wouldn't be long now. His breathing grew ragged, his moans filling the small bathroom. She looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock and pleasure.
Mr. Simmons could feel the heat from her mouth enveloping him, her tongue flicking against his frenulum driving him wild. He reached down, his trembling hands finding the soft mounds of her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. He couldn't believe this was happening, but the relief was immeasurable.
Suddenly, the scent of her arousal hit him. It was faint at first, but grew stronger as she worked harder to bring him to climax. It was an intoxicating aroma that made his cock throb even more. "Dr. Sweet," he managed to gasp out, his voice strained with need. "Please, take your top off."
Dr. Sweet paused for a moment, surprised by his request, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her body. She had never been in such a situation before, but she found herself eager to please him.
With a quick tug, Mr. Simmons pulled her scrub top over her head, revealing her small, pert breasts encased in a simple white bra. The coolness of the air-conditioned room made her nipples stand at attention, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
He leaned back against the sink, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached out and unhooked her bra. It fell away, exposing her to his gaze. The sight of his erection, still unyielding and demanding, made her own arousal spike. She felt a strange mix of professional duty and personal desire as she took in the sight of him.
With a gentle hand, he cupped one of her breasts, his thumb flicking over the nipple. She gasped, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her core. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she couldn't help but let him continue, her hand never stopping her ministrations on his cock.
Her breasts felt firm and sensitive in his hand, the contrast of his rough, calloused skin against her soft flesh making her breath hitch. His touch grew bolder, his thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple lightly.
The sound of her own moan filled her ears, and she realized she had forgotten where they were. But the feel of his cock in her mouth, the taste of him, the power she held in this moment was too much to resist. She bobbed her head, taking him deeper, feeling the veins pulse against her tongue.
His grip on her hair tightened, and she knew he was close. She could feel the muscles in his thighs tense, his breath coming in harsh gasps. She increased her pace, her other hand squeezing and releasing his balls in rhythm with her mouth.
Mr. Simmons threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, as the pressure built up in his groin. The sensation of her mouth, her hand, her breast in his palm was too much to handle. "Oh God," he groaned, his hips bucking.
With a sudden jolt, he pulled his cock out of Dr. Sweet's mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. She had no time to react as he pointed the tip at her face and released a powerful spurt of cum, the white ropes splattering against her cheek and nose. She flinched, but held her ground, her hand still working his shaft as he continued to spurt, painting her face with his seed.
The second and third spurts hit her square in the eye and mouth, her tongue instinctively coming out to catch a rope of cum. She blinked rapidly, the salty fluid stinging a bit, but she remained focused on the task at hand. Her other hand squeezed her breast, her thumb teasing her nipple as she felt a wave of arousal wash over her.
Finally, his orgasm subsided, his body going limp. He looked down at her, panting, his chest heaving. She looked up at him, cum dripping from her chin and onto her breasts. She couldn't believe what had just happened, but the look of relief and gratitude on his face was undeniable.
For a moment, they just stood there, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. Then Mr. Simmons reached out and gently wiped a dollop of cum from her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse.
Dr. Sweet took a step back, her mind racing. She had never crossed this line with a patient before. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the taste of him still lingering. "Mr. Simmons," she began, her voice shaky, "we need to talk about what happened here."
"I know," he said, his voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and relief. "I'm sorry. I just didn't know what else to do."
"It's okay," she said, her voice softer now. "But we can't let this happen again. We need to find a better solution for your... problem."
"I understand," he said, nodding. "But can you... I mean, can you help me clean up?"
"Of course," she said, reaching for a handful of paper towels. She handed them to him, watching as he began to clean himself up. She couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for enjoying the experience, but she pushed those thoughts aside. Her job was to help her patients, and she had done just that.
As they both cleaned themselves up, the tension in the room was thick.
Dr. Sweet couldn't believe how wet she was. Her panties were soaked through, sticking to her skin. She felt a warmth between her legs that had nothing to do with the embarrassment of the situation. As she wiped Mr. Simmons' cum from her face and chest, she couldn't help but be aware of her own body's reaction. It was a betrayal of sorts, her body responding so viscerally to something she knew she should not have enjoyed.
Her thoughts were racing as she watched him clean himself up. What had just happened? This was not in any medical textbook she had ever read. This was not something she had ever thought she would do in her career. Yet here she was, her heart racing, her breasts still heaving with every breath, and she couldn't ignore the slickness between her thighs.
Mr. Simmons, for his part, seemed to be in a daze. The pain and discomfort had been replaced with a mix of relief and something else. He avoided eye contact as he tucked himself back into his pants, his face a mask of confusion and guilt. He knew that he had crossed a line, that he had taken advantage of her kindness in a way that was unprofessional and inappropriate.
Finally, they were both dressed again, the evidence of their encounter wiped away. Dr. Sweet took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She had to regain control of the situation, had to act like this was nothing more than a strange medical anomaly that needed to be addressed.
"Mr. Simmons," she began, her voice firm. "I'm going to prescribe you a different medication. One that will help you maintain an erection, but won't cause this kind of... prolonged issue." She handed him a prescription, her hand shaking just the slightest bit.
He took it, his own hand trembling. "Thank you, doctor," he murmured, his voice filled with relief.
"And I'd like to see you again in a week," she continued, her eyes never leaving his. "To make sure everything is back to normal."
He nodded, his eyes darting to her breasts before looking back up at her face. "I understand."
When he was finally dressed and ready to go, she walked him to the door, her hand lingering on his arm just a moment longer than necessary. "Remember," she said, her voice low, "not a word to anyone.
He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I won't," he said, his voice a whisper. "Thank you again, doctor."
Dr. Sweet couldn't help but wonder what the next week would bring. Would she be able to look at him without remembering the taste of him on her tongue? Would she be able to act like nothing had changed between them?
The rest of her appointments were a blur, her mind replaying the events in the bathroom over and over again. She tried to focus on her notes, on anything but the wetness still clinging to her panties.
Dr. Sweet was dressed in a way that made her seem professional, yet approachable. Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail that bobbed slightly as she moved. The scrubs fit her slender frame just right, hinting at the fit body beneath them. The name tag pinned to her chest read "Dr. Laura Sweet, M.D." in bold letters. She couldn't have been more than 30, Mr. Simmons thought to himself, feeling the weight of his 70 years as he settled into the chair.
Mr. Simmons, on the other hand, looked his age. He was a man who had lived a full life, with a belly that spoke of many good meals and a face lined with the stories of those years. His clothes were a bit outdated, but they were clean and well-kept. He wore a simple button-up shirt and slacks, his shoes polished to a mirror shine. His eyes searched the room, looking for anything that could offer some comfort or distraction from the embarrassing situation he found himself in.
The air in the room was thick with tension as the silence stretched on. Dr. Sweet cleared her throat, breaking the quiet. "What brings you in today, Mr. Simmons?" she asked, her voice calm and even. She clicked her pen and waited patiently for his reply, her hand poised to write down his woes. Mr. Simmons took a deep breath and began his tale, hoping she would be able to help him with his most personal of issues.
"Well, doctor," he began, his voice shaking slightly, "I took some of that... you know, the little blue pill." He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding eye contact. "It's been more than four hours, and... and it hasn't gone down," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a shade of red that matched the blood rushing to his cock. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the embarrassment was clear in every syllable.
Dr. Sweet's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, I see," she said, her professional mask slipping just a bit. "How much did you take?" She knew the typical dose was one pill, but she had to ask to gauge the severity of his situation.
"Just one, I swear!" Mr. Simmons said quickly, raising his hand as if taking an oath. "But it's just, you know, it won't go away!" His desperation was palpable as he fidgeted with his hat, his other hand unconsciously reaching down to adjust his crotch.
The doctor nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. She'd seen many strange things in her time as a doctor, but this was a first. "Okay," she said, "Let's not panic. Have you tried to... relieve the pressure in any way?"
Mr. Simmons' face contorted in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Well," she said delicately, "you know, masturbation can sometimes help with situations like this. Have you tried that?" She watched his expression closely, looking for any signs of understanding or relief.
His eyes widened. "You mean... jerk off?" he whispered, horrified.
"It's a medical solution, Mr. Simmons," Dr. Sweet assured him, her voice firm but kind. "It's perfectly natural, and sometimes necessary."
Mr. Simmons swallowed hard, his mind racing. "But what if it doesn't work?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"If that doesn't work, we'll have to explore other options," she said, her pen tapping against the pad of paper on her desk. "But for now, let's start there. Can you go to the bathroom and try that for me?"
Mr. Simmons nodded, his face red as a beet, and shuffled out of the room. The moment the door closed, Dr. Sweet leaned back in her chair and let out a low whistle. "Well," she murmured to herself, "This is going to be an interesting day." She couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the old man. After all, everyone wanted to feel young and virile again. She just hoped that this situation wouldn't get out of hand.
After what felt like an eternity, but was actually closer to ten minutes, she decided to check on her patient. Knocking gently on the bathroom door, she called out, "Mr. Simmons? Are you okay in there?"
There was a long pause before a muffled voice replied, "Doctor Sweet?"
"Yes, it's me. How are you doing?"
"I can't even pee," he said, his voice strained.
"What seems to be the problem?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She stepped closer to the door, her hand on the knob, ready to offer assistance if needed.
"It's just hard," Mr. Simmons groaned.
"Well, that's understandable," Dr. Sweet said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. She was a professional, after all. "Can I come in and take a look?"
"I... I don't know," Mr. Simmons stammered. "It's really not a pretty sight."
"Mr. Simmons, I've seen worse," Dr. Sweet assured him, though she couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive about what she might find. She'd seen plenty of erections before, but never one that had lasted for hours due to an overdose of Viagra.
With a deep sigh, Mr. Simmons opened the bathroom door a crack, revealing his swollen, red member that was standing tall and proud, seemingly refusing to subside. The sight of it made Dr. Sweet's eyes widen, but she quickly composed herself, pushing the door open wider and stepping inside.
"Let me see," she said, her voice steady.
Before she knew it, Mr. Simmons had grabbed her hand and placed it firmly on his cock. The heat radiating from it was intense, and she could feel the throbbing pulse beneath her palm. It was clear that he was in a lot of pain and discomfort.
"Well what if you just..." he pleaded, his voice desperate.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she could see the desperation in them. "Ohh, you know I'm a doctor, not a surrogate," she said, trying to gently remove her hand. But he was insistent, his grip tightening. "Besides, I'm in a relationship," she added, hoping that would be the end of it.
But Mr. Simmons was not easily deterred. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking with need. "I'm in so much pain, I can't even pee."
Dr. Sweet took a deep breath, weighing her professionalism against the urgency of the situation. "Alright," she relented, "but just this once. And you can't tell anyone about this."
With trembling hands, she began to stroke his cock, her eyes never leaving his face. She could see the tension in his features begin to ease, his breathing growing heavier. She worked him over gently, trying to remember what she'd learned in her textbooks about this kind of thing. It had never been covered in any of her medical school classes, but she knew that the goal was to help him reach climax.
As she stroked, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation. Here she was, a respected doctor, reduced to giving a handjob to an elderly man in her office bathroom. But she had taken an oath to help her patients, and she couldn't ignore the pain and panic in his eyes. Plus, she had to admit, there was something strangely erotic about the power she held in this moment.
Mr. Simmons' moans grew louder, his hands reaching out to grip the edge of the sink for support. His knees were wobbly, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He looked down at her hand, watching her slender fingers move with surprising skill. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement.
Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed Dr. Sweet's wrist, stopping her movements. She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tight.
"It's not working," he panted, his face a mix of frustration and pain. "It's just too... too sensitive."
Her grip tightened, and she leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to cup his balls. She had to admit, she was getting a bit turned on by the situation. "Let's just try again," she murmured, her voice low and soothing. "I'll go a little slower this time."
As she began to stroke him once more, Mr. Simmons' body tensed up. He was so close, yet so far. "Please," he begged, his eyes squeezed shut. "I need to..."
Without thinking, Dr. Sweet leaned down and took the head of his cock into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip. Mr. Simmons' eyes shot open in shock, his hand moving to the back of her head to guide her movements. He'd never felt anything like this before. The warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her saliva, the pressure... it was all too much to handle.
The doctor could feel him swelling in her mouth, his grip on her hair tightening. She knew he was close.
Her own arousal was a surprise to her, but she couldn't deny the wetness that had formed between her thighs as she worked his cock. She had to be careful not to let her own desires take over, focusing instead on the task at hand. The head of his cock was now slick with her saliva, and she could feel the pulse of his veins as they throbbed against her tongue.
Her hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently as she took more of him into her mouth. She could feel his whole body shaking, and she knew it wouldn't be long now. His breathing grew ragged, his moans filling the small bathroom. She looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock and pleasure.
Mr. Simmons could feel the heat from her mouth enveloping him, her tongue flicking against his frenulum driving him wild. He reached down, his trembling hands finding the soft mounds of her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. He couldn't believe this was happening, but the relief was immeasurable.
Suddenly, the scent of her arousal hit him. It was faint at first, but grew stronger as she worked harder to bring him to climax. It was an intoxicating aroma that made his cock throb even more. "Dr. Sweet," he managed to gasp out, his voice strained with need. "Please, take your top off."
Dr. Sweet paused for a moment, surprised by his request, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her body. She had never been in such a situation before, but she found herself eager to please him.
With a quick tug, Mr. Simmons pulled her scrub top over her head, revealing her small, pert breasts encased in a simple white bra. The coolness of the air-conditioned room made her nipples stand at attention, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
He leaned back against the sink, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached out and unhooked her bra. It fell away, exposing her to his gaze. The sight of his erection, still unyielding and demanding, made her own arousal spike. She felt a strange mix of professional duty and personal desire as she took in the sight of him.
With a gentle hand, he cupped one of her breasts, his thumb flicking over the nipple. She gasped, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her core. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she couldn't help but let him continue, her hand never stopping her ministrations on his cock.
Her breasts felt firm and sensitive in his hand, the contrast of his rough, calloused skin against her soft flesh making her breath hitch. His touch grew bolder, his thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple lightly.
The sound of her own moan filled her ears, and she realized she had forgotten where they were. But the feel of his cock in her mouth, the taste of him, the power she held in this moment was too much to resist. She bobbed her head, taking him deeper, feeling the veins pulse against her tongue.
His grip on her hair tightened, and she knew he was close. She could feel the muscles in his thighs tense, his breath coming in harsh gasps. She increased her pace, her other hand squeezing and releasing his balls in rhythm with her mouth.
Mr. Simmons threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, as the pressure built up in his groin. The sensation of her mouth, her hand, her breast in his palm was too much to handle. "Oh God," he groaned, his hips bucking.
With a sudden jolt, he pulled his cock out of Dr. Sweet's mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. She had no time to react as he pointed the tip at her face and released a powerful spurt of cum, the white ropes splattering against her cheek and nose. She flinched, but held her ground, her hand still working his shaft as he continued to spurt, painting her face with his seed.
The second and third spurts hit her square in the eye and mouth, her tongue instinctively coming out to catch a rope of cum. She blinked rapidly, the salty fluid stinging a bit, but she remained focused on the task at hand. Her other hand squeezed her breast, her thumb teasing her nipple as she felt a wave of arousal wash over her.
Finally, his orgasm subsided, his body going limp. He looked down at her, panting, his chest heaving. She looked up at him, cum dripping from her chin and onto her breasts. She couldn't believe what had just happened, but the look of relief and gratitude on his face was undeniable.
For a moment, they just stood there, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. Then Mr. Simmons reached out and gently wiped a dollop of cum from her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse.
Dr. Sweet took a step back, her mind racing. She had never crossed this line with a patient before. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the taste of him still lingering. "Mr. Simmons," she began, her voice shaky, "we need to talk about what happened here."
"I know," he said, his voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and relief. "I'm sorry. I just didn't know what else to do."
"It's okay," she said, her voice softer now. "But we can't let this happen again. We need to find a better solution for your... problem."
"I understand," he said, nodding. "But can you... I mean, can you help me clean up?"
"Of course," she said, reaching for a handful of paper towels. She handed them to him, watching as he began to clean himself up. She couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for enjoying the experience, but she pushed those thoughts aside. Her job was to help her patients, and she had done just that.
As they both cleaned themselves up, the tension in the room was thick.
Dr. Sweet couldn't believe how wet she was. Her panties were soaked through, sticking to her skin. She felt a warmth between her legs that had nothing to do with the embarrassment of the situation. As she wiped Mr. Simmons' cum from her face and chest, she couldn't help but be aware of her own body's reaction. It was a betrayal of sorts, her body responding so viscerally to something she knew she should not have enjoyed.
Her thoughts were racing as she watched him clean himself up. What had just happened? This was not in any medical textbook she had ever read. This was not something she had ever thought she would do in her career. Yet here she was, her heart racing, her breasts still heaving with every breath, and she couldn't ignore the slickness between her thighs.
Mr. Simmons, for his part, seemed to be in a daze. The pain and discomfort had been replaced with a mix of relief and something else. He avoided eye contact as he tucked himself back into his pants, his face a mask of confusion and guilt. He knew that he had crossed a line, that he had taken advantage of her kindness in a way that was unprofessional and inappropriate.
Finally, they were both dressed again, the evidence of their encounter wiped away. Dr. Sweet took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She had to regain control of the situation, had to act like this was nothing more than a strange medical anomaly that needed to be addressed.
"Mr. Simmons," she began, her voice firm. "I'm going to prescribe you a different medication. One that will help you maintain an erection, but won't cause this kind of... prolonged issue." She handed him a prescription, her hand shaking just the slightest bit.
He took it, his own hand trembling. "Thank you, doctor," he murmured, his voice filled with relief.
"And I'd like to see you again in a week," she continued, her eyes never leaving his. "To make sure everything is back to normal."
He nodded, his eyes darting to her breasts before looking back up at her face. "I understand."
When he was finally dressed and ready to go, she walked him to the door, her hand lingering on his arm just a moment longer than necessary. "Remember," she said, her voice low, "not a word to anyone.
He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I won't," he said, his voice a whisper. "Thank you again, doctor."
Dr. Sweet couldn't help but wonder what the next week would bring. Would she be able to look at him without remembering the taste of him on her tongue? Would she be able to act like nothing had changed between them?
The rest of her appointments were a blur, her mind replaying the events in the bathroom over and over again. She tried to focus on her notes, on anything but the wetness still clinging to her panties.
1 month ago
