Going to the Doc (MF) (Edging)

Going to the Doc

She is an absolute stunner. Greek descent with flawless olive skin (of course, for a dermatologist). Her long, wavy dark hair is obviously styled at an expensive salon. She wears very natural-looking makeup that only accentuates her raw beauty, not plasters over it. Full lips, a broad smile, and perfectly straight teeth keep me smiling right back at her. I love making her smile as it teases her dimples out of hiding. Her deep dark pupils and the almond shape of her eyes always draw me in. Her full black eyebrows are tamed enough to frame her eyes and add a sultry European sweetness to her face. I have to look her in the eyes or she will catch mine all over her body.

And what a body it is and not with a “for someone in their forties” disclaimer. Doc is about 5’5”. She wears damn-sexy 3-inch-high heels, and I bet it is to assert dominance over her patients. She has well-defined calves to go with this killer body. She is adept on those heels and walks smoothly and with purpose. She makes me feel small when she stands in front of me, although I look down an inch or two. I listen for her when left alone and get a thrill when I know it is her coming to the door, preceded by the click-clack of her heels.

In the summers, she will wear light summer pencil skirts that hug her hips, highlight that ass, and are just short enough to make me want to see more of her sexy bare thighs. She is a bit thick, like a gymnast, and I am sure it is all curvy muscle. We have discussed our fitness routines, so I know she keeps herself up. Her blouses are professionally tailored with low necklines that reveal a skillfully measured amount of cleavage her C-cups offer.

Her demeanor is graceful but exact. When I need a procedure to cut, burn, freeze, scrape, excise, or stitch bits and pieces of me, her hands are skillful, and her movements are calm, quick, and careful. She always knows what she is doing and is the type that would never say “oops.”

I grew up in the tropics. Most of my early life was spent barefoot and shirtless. My earliest memories are of me surfing or hanging out on the beaches, all without sunscreen. I am now paying the price. As a result, I have been to many dermatologists over the years. None like her.

Because of my background and light skin, I go every 3 months. Usually, these were just general “any issues to discuss.” Once a year or so, an assistant will walk me to the exam room and leave me alone to undress and don the gown provided. Doc will come in to do her exams as any other Dr. had in the past. We always connect in our conversations, but I chalk that up to a calculated bedside manner. I would confess to her what mountain I climbed, where I snowboarded, or what marathon I ran, not really to brag, but only to admit that I am in the sun more than she thinks I should be. She admonishes me if I admit to any sunburns from not wearing sunscreen. She updates me with her latest bits and pieces of life, also. I always ask leading questions of her too. I want to draw out my times with her.

The pandemic years only allowed us video chats for a while. Every three months, we had excellent conversations that may not have happened if we were in the hustle-bustle of the office. With the both of us in our own homes, there was relaxed ease to the talking. We got to know much more about each other, and I felt like I played a therapist to her. She opened up about many fears, frustrations, and joys in her life but nothing too specific. I still don’t know her husband’s or kids’ names.

When we started back up the in-office appointments, they did not go as expected. The office had a new assistant that must have just turned 18 but looked like she was 16. When Doc told me to disrobe, I got really nervous with this kid in the room, no gown and neither moving like they would give me privacy.

I pointed with my eyes at the kid who was positioned to my right and would still get an eyeful, and said, “Are you sure?”

She laughed and giggled out, “You’re so funny,” and asked the kid to leave.

My mind conjured all sorts of things that day. If I knew that girl’s age, I might have just gone with it. The Dr. was going with it. I will never get another chance to fulfill my exhibitionism with a beautiful young thing like her.

That is when the 3-month things started. Since then, Doc hasn’t had the assistant in there with me, and she asks me to get naked every time, without a gown offered, and her staying in the room. I did not overthink it that second time as it was rather perfunctory. In the third appointment, looking back now, she did a more methodical full body exam. I even asked about it, and she just waved it off and told me to get dressed.

At my last appointment, Doc walked me into the room herself and closed the door. I noticed the gown was not provided again.

She says flatly and without small talk, “Take off your shirt.” She just stood there in front of me, holding her iPad, looking at me, waiting.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I call her that often as a habit from my military days taking orders.

I took off my t-shirt and tossed it over to the chair.

She ran her hands over every inch of my face, neck, arms, hands, chest, back, and abs. Sprinkled among the idle chit-chat, she stopped here and there to poke and pick and ask, “What’s this?” or “Is This New?”

During her inspection, I thought, “Is she going slower than usual?”

Her face was within 6 inches of me, which was standard, but her touch “felt” more sensual and intimate. Like she was feeling more below the surface than just the skin. When she broke away, ending her inspection at my chest, her fingers trailed across and off my nipple so lightly, erotically, giving me goosebumps. But then, she stays close and lingers.

She demands, “Take off your pants and underwear.” Like I don’t have a choice.

She said it in a sultry demand that got my heart racing along with a tingle in my dick. I sat back onto the papered examination table/bed thing to remove my shoes and socks.

My mind wandered, and I knew my face turned red. “What the hell is her game?”

I had to stand to unbuckle my belt and unzip my jeans, all with her standing nearly a foot away. I felt more blood fill my dick with this intimacy. I did all I could to tell myself she is a Dr. and just doing Dr. things. She has been in my personal space many times, so maybe she is just comfortable. Stone-faced, her eyes stayed with mine as I let my pants fall. Then she let her gaze slide down my body to my underwear, and I swear I felt it hot on my skin.

I wear tight workout boxer briefs, so they stay up. I know the outline of my cock was plainly visible, but she is a Dr., right? I kicked my jeans to the side and moved to pull down my briefs, but I could not lean forward with her so close in front of me. She made no motion to move; like I was in Her space. She acknowledged that I was hampered by her, so she squatted down, hooked her fingers where mine were and pulled them down to my feet as she dropped her ass to her heels. My dick sort of bounded out not six inches from her face. I thought she was getting ready to suck my cock!

All I thought was, “Oh! My! God!”

I kicked my briefs aside while looking down at her balancing on her racy 3-inch heels, her parted legs pulling the fabric of the skirt up, exposing more of her thighs, and her gazing at my plumped cock. I have been around enough to know this is precisely the position Dr.s are trained to avoid. I watch as she reaches out to hold my growing dick. Her movements were professional primarily, but she never lingered so long in the past.

I screamed internally at my lewd thoughts! “Shut up! Do not let your cock twitch! Do not let your cock twitch!”

She tilts her head, inspects the right side, then moves her head straight up and leans to the left slowly. It looks like the same slow movements as if she had her lips on him. I really thought she would take it in her mouth right then. She then lifted him up, pressed his head into my belly with one hand, and ran her fingers of the other hand down the shaft to my balls.

“Oh, fuck me!” That made him pulse, and I know they don’t teach that move in med school.

Doc did not flinch or respond. She fondled my sack expertly and professionally. Then ran her hands and gaze down my thighs, calves, and feet. While still squatting there, she asked me to turn around so she could inspect my ass and the back of my legs.

“OK,” I felt my voice squeak out higher and crackle. I cleared my throat and turned.

Now she is running her full hands, not just fingers, over every inch of my butt. I feel her part my cheeks, and she asks me to lean over the table. She ran her fingers right down the middle of my hairy crack (trimmed, I’m not an animal!).

I think, “What. The. Fuck.”

She just stroked right over my asshole!

I thought, “Oh Fuck!”

My cock twitched, my sphincter tightened, and I inhaled sharply. I have never wanted a finger in there, but at that moment, if she did, I would have totally gone with it. She dragged fingers down my taint and just a bit of ball sack. Then, mercifully, on down the back of my legs like nothing.

“OK,” she said.

I stood up and turned around, and she was still squatting on her heels. My dick was more than chubby but, by sheer will, not fully hard, and pointed straight at her face. She looked right at it, raised her eyes to meet mine, and stood. To help herself up, she grabbed my hips and pulled herself up. And with that, she turned to wash up and told me to dress.

All I thought about was she knew what I looked like, totally flaccid, under the cold fluorescent lights, with her nurses standing three feet away. Now, here I am, hard and alone with her. My exhibitionist is more than happy and proud to do this. I know I am a grower and not a shower. It’s not a porn star cock, but thick enough that mine and most women’s fingers don’t wrap fully around it. My dick is veiny and, when super hard, looks menacing. My head is a mushroom bulb wider than the shaft. That first push into a new pussy is usually the best when I watch my partner’s eyes roll or flutter. I wonder what her eyes will do? I do bottom out on shorter women but dislike that as it ruins the mood and makes me have to control myself.

She continued to just chit-chat while I felt a drip of pre-cum hit my thigh. Oh, I know she saw that when she was face to cock.

Fuck, she is the best Doc in the world right now! I will not do or say a thing if I misread what just happened and cause her to drop me as a patient. I fiddled with my briefs on purpose, though, acting like I had to get them just right to slip back on, all with her eyes on me.

My inner exhibitionist controlled me, “Fuck it, if she wants to look, I will let her look.” I made sure to drop my eyes and turn to the side a bit to give her a chance to look at her leisure.

She is distracting me with questions about nothing, really. I couldn’t answer well anyway, but I stopped fiddling with my briefs on purpose to ponder the questions, look at her, and answer, with my dick just dripping, bouncing, and swaying out in the air. She was just leaning against the counter, not hurrying me at all.

When I finally pulled them up, I had to “pack up” with him at half-mast and dripping against my leg. I put on my jeans and shirt in the same slow manner. Her eyes were on me the whole time.

Stepping away from the counter, she says, “Well, nice to see you again. I got to get going. Stop by the front desk to schedule your next visit.”

Feeling cheeky, I said, “Thanks, I always love coming to see you, too. You’re always so thorough!”

She shook my hand and click-clacks out the door and down the hall. click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Seven minutes total is all the appointment was. I pondered hard about jerking off right there, but I chose in favor of good manners.

At the Front desk, that same young assistant was my receptionist

“Was Everything OK,”

“For Sure, She is the best Dr. ever,”

She then asked when I wanted to schedule my next visit.

I asked for a end of day time slot. If anything may happen next time, I think the last slot of the day will be it. The crew would want to leave, the office would be clearing of patients, and she could have the excuse of working late when going home to her husband.

“OK, Mis…Dr. Katy will see you back here at 4:45 6/10/22.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ur5emg/going_to_the_doc_mf_edging