My Husband’s Doctor Examined Me Alone

My husband has been doing jobs for a pair of doctors in the neighborhood for over a year. He handles the general maintenance of their office, and they pay him well, so the relationship grew into something almost like friendship. I sell painted plaster and ceramic figures at a small stall in front of the workshop, and over time the doctor started stopping by to look at my things. At first she bought a little, but later she stayed to chat. That’s how we got to know each other.

The doctor came by sometimes too. More reserved than she was, always kind. He looked at me in a way I didn’t want to analyze too much. One of those long looks that aren’t rude, but say plenty. Looks that went straight down between my legs and left my cunt buzzing for the rest of the afternoon.

What happened happened because I went to the clinic with an intimate problem I didn’t know how to solve. And the problem, to be honest, hadn’t fallen from the sky.

***

Two weeks earlier, my upstairs neighbor had helped me move some heavy furniture while Rodrigo was in the workshop. We only knew each other by sight, nothing more. But that day, I don’t know how to explain it, things just unfolded on their own. After he got the wardrobe into place, he wiped sweat off with his shirt lifted and I kept staring at his stomach longer than I should have. He noticed. He came over, grabbed me by the nape, and pushed his tongue into my mouth without asking anything.

We ended up in the bedroom in a matter of seconds. He threw me face-down on the bed, yanked my pants and panties down to my knees in one pull, and took them off right there, without even taking his own pants off all the way. He was huge. I felt him press at my entrance, felt the head sink in without resistance because I was already dripping just from seeing him, and then the full shove, all at once, into the deepest part. I screamed into the pillow. He pinned my hips and started fucking me with a force I hadn’t felt in years, with the hurried rhythm of a man who knows the husband could come home at any moment.

He fucked me to the root and pulled almost all the way out, and the sound my wet cunt made against his pelvis filled the room. I bit the pillow and begged for more. He grabbed my hair, arched my back, and buried himself even deeper. I came like that, with my face mashed into the pillow and my ass lifted, clenching around his cock in spasms that drew a growl from him. He didn’t slow down. He turned me over, spread my legs wide, spat on my cunt, and shoved it back in at once. He looked me in the eye while he drove into me and said things in my ear that made me come again. When he finished, he did it inside me, without warning, and I felt him empty in waves while he kept thrusting. It was a lot and it was fast, without much care, without a condom, without anything.

That afternoon I started feeling a burning that kept getting worse. By the next day I couldn’t ignore it. My cunt was on fire, my lips swollen and red from having had him ram me so hard.

I told the doctor in a low voice while she was looking over some ceramic pieces she liked. I said I had an irritation and didn’t know what it was. She didn’t ask awkward questions. She told me to come in the next day, early, and she’d see me without an appointment.

The problem was Rodrigo.

That night, when my husband asked me what we’d been talking about for so long, I told him about the burning. As I expected, he started thinking out loud. He said I must have done something to end up like that. I denied everything calmly, but he kept insisting until he asked me to show him. I did. I pulled my panties down in front of him, spread my legs, and showed him my irritated cunt. He saw how red it was, frowned, said a few things to me, and went to sleep without saying goodnight.

The next morning he got up early and ate breakfast in silence. Before he left, he told me:

—When you get back from the doctor, you’ll explain to me what they told you.

I took a taxi and left.

***

The clinic was on the first floor of a building with small practices. I went up the stairs, walked in, and there was a girl behind the desk, young, with her hair tied up. I asked for the doctor.

—She’s at an emergency delivery — she said. — I don’t know when she’ll be back.

I explained that we had arranged for her to see me early, that she had told me to come without an appointment. The girl nodded without much enthusiasm and told me I could wait. At that moment the inner office door opened and the doctor came out.

He was wearing his white coat, the stethoscope around his neck. He saw me and smiled.

—Lucía, are you going to lunch already? —he asked the receptionist.

—Yeah, doc, I was just about to head out — she answered. — But a patient came in to see the doctor.

—I see. —He looked at me. —Go eat, don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.

I was going to say I could wait, that it wasn’t urgent. But I couldn’t find the words. Lucía was already putting away her purse. The doctor gestured toward the office door.

—Come in, please.

***

The office was tidy and smelled of disinfectant mixed with something slightly sweet. He closed the door, leaned against the desk, and asked what was wrong with me.

—I came to see the doctor for a matter of… — I stopped. I didn’t know how to say it.

—An irritation in the intimate area — he finished, with the calm of someone who has said it a thousand times. — I’m listening.

I explained what I felt: burning, redness, no other symptoms. While I spoke he listened attentively, without interrupting. Then he took a disposable gown from the shelf and offered it to me.

—Go behind the screen, take your clothes off underneath, and put this on. We’ll check and that’s it.

I hesitated for a few seconds. I could tell him I’d rather wait for the doctor. But something in me didn’t want to say it. I took the gown and went behind the screen.

The material was so thin it was almost transparent. I took off my clothes, put it on as best I could, and came back out. My hard nipples showed through the fabric, and he noticed at once. He was already standing by the gyn exam table in the back. He looked me up and down with that professional calm that could be anything. He came closer.

—You didn’t tie it — he said.

—I didn’t know how.

He stood behind me, took the gown ties, and left them untied, his hands briefly brushing my bare back. I felt his breath on the nape of my neck.

—Even better — he said softly. — You’ll be more comfortable.

Then he noticed I was still wearing underwear.

—You’re going to have to take that off too — he said. — Otherwise I can’t examine you properly.

He put his hands on my hips, taking the elastic at the sides. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement said in a low voice, almost in my ear.

—I’ll help you — he added.

I stayed still. His hands slid down slowly, brushing the skin of my thighs, drawing my panties to the floor. He made me lift one foot and then the other, and when he straightened up he ran his knuckles over the backs of my thighs, without bothering to hide it. I shivered.

***

I settled onto the exam table exactly as he instructed, with my legs in the supports. He pulled up a stool, sat between my legs, and started examining me. No gloves.

At first I thought I hadn’t seen right. But no: his fingers were warm, with no latex between them and my skin.

He ran his fingers over the groin area on both sides, with gentle up-and-down movements. He said he saw some redness there, consistent with friction. I nodded without speaking because speaking was impossible for me.

—And here — he said, and his thumbs brushed the edge of my lips — there’s irritation too.

He opened them with two fingers, spreading them slowly, and I felt him looking. He lingered. He ran his thumbs along the inside of my inner lips, one and then the other, and from there moved up to the clit, barely brushing it, as if it were part of the exam. I arched without meaning to.

—Easy — he said. — Relax.

He repeated it two more times, in that same voice, while his thumbs kept moving in small arcs along my lips, deeper and deeper, closer and closer to the bud. I could tell I was getting wet and that he would realize it any moment. He was the one who said it first.

—You’re very wet — he murmured, and slid one finger just to the entrance, without actually going in. — All right. I’ve seen enough on the outside. Now let’s check inside.

He stood up, moved to my side, and I looked down involuntarily at his pants. What was there was obvious. A hard bulge pushing against the fabric, outlining the full shape of his cock against his leg.

He looked me in the eye.

—The gloves — he said, touching his pockets. — I forgot them in the other room.

Of course you did.

He smiled. I smiled back without fully understanding why.

—For what we’re doing now — he said — they don’t make much sense either. Right?

I nodded. A small movement, but enough.

He picked up a tube of lubricant from the little table, looked at it, looked at me.

—This won’t be necessary either — he said, setting it on the exam table. — You’re already pretty well lubricated.

***

He sat back down between my legs. He slid two fingers in at once, all the way in, and I jerked so hard the whole table shook. His fingers were long, thick, and reached a place Rodrigo hadn’t touched in years. He started moving them slowly, at a rhythm that was no longer an exam, and we both knew it. He curved them upward, searched, and when he found the spot he pressed it as if he knew exactly where to push. I closed my eyes. I felt my body tense with each movement, felt the wetness increase and hear it too, impossible to hide, an obscene splashing every time he pulled his fingers out and pushed them back in. I moaned.

—Sorry — I said.

—Don’t apologize — he replied. — Moan as much as you want. That’s what we’re here for.

With his other hand he started pressing slowly over the top, on the clit, making circles with his thumb, and this time I couldn’t hold back. I moaned loudly, I moved. He didn’t stop. He kept going like that, combining the fingers inside with the pressure outside, until I was shaking and no longer trying to hide it. He brought his mouth to my ear, without stopping his fingers, and said softly:

—You’re a horny little thing, aren’t you? Look how you’re dripping all over my hand.

He pulled out his dripping fingers and smeared them over my lips. I sucked them without thinking.

Then he stopped.

He got to his feet. I heard the click of the belt buckle, the sound of the zipper, fabric falling away. Then I felt it: the head of his cock, thick and hot, rubbing slowly against me, opening me without entering yet. He slid it up and down between my lips, soaking it in my fluids, bumping against the clit with every pass. I lifted my hips, searching for him.

—Ask me for it — he said.

—Put it in me — I whispered. — Please.

When he did, it was in one single motion, deep, all the way to the base. I let out a short cry I tried to smother with my hand. He filled me completely. It was thicker than the neighbor’s, longer, and it reached a place I had no memory of. I came right there, with that first thrust, with a shudder that ran through me completely and left his gown wet with me. He looked down, saw what had happened, the dark stain spreading across the white fabric, and that made him speed up.

—Look at what you do to me — he murmured. — You came on the first stroke.

He took me by the ankles, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and started moving hard. The table creaked with every thrust. The head of his cock hit the back of my womb and I felt him opening me all the way through. I wasn’t trying to stay quiet anymore. The room smelled like sex and the noise was unavoidable: the slap of his hips against my ass, the splashing of my soaked cunt, my moans bouncing off the tiles.

—Doctor — I gasped, not knowing why.

—Shut up and take it — he said, and drove deeper.

He yanked the gown down to my waist, grabbed my tits with both hands, and pinched my nipples between his fingers while he kept thrusting. He bent down, shoved one in my mouth, sucked hard, tugged with his teeth. I arched and let out a cry. I came again, clenching around his cock in a long spasm that drew a groan from him.

—That’s it, that’s it — he panted. — Squeeze that little cunt nice and tight.

He took my legs off his shoulders, flipped me over on the table, and put me on all fours, with my knees at the edge. He planted a hand in my back to arch me and rammed me from behind again, all the way in, to the balls. The new angle was brutal. I could see his balls slap against my clit every time he drove in, and with each blow I let out a rougher moan. He grabbed a lock of my hair, pulled back, and whispered in my ear:

—Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

I shook my head, speechless.

—Say it.

—No — I panted. — He doesn’t fuck me like this.

—Good girl.

He pushed his thumb into my ass while still fucking me from the front and I came again, this time with such a violent shudder that my arms gave out and I was left with my face smashed against the table, ass up, trembling. I came two more times before he was done. When he finished I felt it inside me, hot, in long waves that filled me completely. He left it in me until the last contraction, holding my hips so he wouldn’t slip out.

He stayed still for a moment, still inside me, breathing hard. Then he started to pull out slowly, and I felt the semen trickle down my thighs just as the tip left me.

He withdrew, straightened his clothes with calm movements, took another white gown from the shelf, and changed. I stayed lying there without strength, my heart still racing, my legs still open, his cum dripping out of my swollen cunt.

He came close to my face and pressed his soft, sticky cock against my lips.

—Clean me up.

I didn’t think about it. I opened my mouth and took it all in. I sucked it slowly, tasting myself mixed with him, running my tongue over the whole length, over the balls too when he brought them closer. I cleaned him completely with my mouth. And while I did that, he started getting hard again inside my mouth, growing against my palate. But he took me gently by the chin, pulled his cock out with a wet sound, and said:

—Better we leave it for another day. Lucía won’t be long.

***

Five minutes later, it was as if nothing had happened. I dressed behind the screen, my cunt still leaking his semen and my panties soaked as soon as I pulled them up, while he reviewed a chart at his desk. When I came out, he said without looking up:

—What you’ve got is a chafing injury from friction. Nothing serious. It could be from the elliptical, if you use it wearing very tight clothes. You can tell your husband that if he asks.

He opened the door. I went out into the hallway.

Lucía was behind the desk, freshly back, arranging her purse. She looked up, saw me, and smiled with a smile that wasn’t a receptionist’s. The doctor appeared in the doorway behind me.

—Should I give her an appointment, doc? — she asked in that tone.

—No need — he replied, as if nothing at all.

I left the building. At the taxi stand I kept thinking about how much Lucía must have heard, whether she’d tell the doctor, whether this would change something between them. But then I remembered how calm the doctor had been when she spoke to him, how quickly he answered without hesitating, and I wondered whether this had happened before.

The taxi took a while. I stood there in the sun, squeezing my thighs because I could feel the semen still running down me, thinking about his hands, about how he smiled when he saw what he’d done to me without me even touching him much.

***

When I got home, Rodrigo wasn’t there. I went straight to the bathroom, pulled down my soaked panties, and rinsed them before throwing them in the hamper. Then I went to the elliptical we had in the laundry room, took it down from the wall where it had been hanging unused for months, and set it in the middle of the room with a bottle of water beside it. I changed and started making dinner.

My husband came home in the afternoon. The first thing he said was:

—What did they tell you?

I acted offended. I explained that it was a chafing injury from the elliptical, that I had used it the day before in tight leggings and the friction had caused the irritation. I told him that on top of that the doctor had to see me because the doctor was at a delivery.

—The doctor examined you? — he asked, frowning.

—He’s a doctor too — I said. — And you told me to go.

He didn’t know what to answer. I went back to the food and left him chewing over it alone.

The next day I went back to the clinic and this time the doctor was there. Lucía greeted me with the same smile as the previous time, but said nothing. Inside, the doctor examined me, confirmed it was a mild chafing injury, and gave me exactly the same diagnosis: friction from tight clothing over sensitive skin.

I was done in less than twenty minutes. Very different from the hour I spent the day before.

I went home, told Rodrigo, and the matter was closed.

Though every time I pass in front of the clinic and see the sign, I remember that I have to be careful not to use the elliptical with leggings that are too tight. Or maybe I should. Depends on the day.