Banged by Dr Dennison

[ravenstar]

Hi all,

It's been a while - almost 6 years, I think - since I last posted anything of substance on here. There's been a lot going on in my world, but I've never given up on writing. I wrote this the other day and thought you might like to read it. I'm toying with the idea of writing a collection of short stories like this for publication, but I'm not sure yet. Anyway, here's my latest naughty story. Hope you enjoy it. Feedback, as always, is welcome.

Raven

*****

Banged by Dr Dennison
Word Count: 6064

Banged by Dr Dennison

I pull up outside the strip mall, which houses the medical practice of Dr Dennison: Family Physician. Dr Dennison has called this his surgery since graduating from medical school in the early 90s. The mall is a two-story brown brick structure housing a few speciality shops, a veterinarian, and a party supply store. Most of the dozen shop fronts stand empty, and the mall, like the rest of my hometown, has a stale, forgotten air hanging over it.

Everything around here seems to be forgotten now. Back when I was six the large paper mill closed. In the blink of an eye, more than half the town was out of work, and it's never recovered. I remember going on school holidays days before the announcement. When we returned to school for the next term, dozens of familiar faces had vanished as if they’d never existed. Mum calls it the exodus. I remember it as when I lost my best friend, Taren, without any warning.

I make sure to set the alarm on my little red Mazda before I head towards a brown door that almost fades into the surrounding brickwork. I wipe my feet on the mat and open the door. Lying directly in front of me is a small, tiled area at the base of a steep staircase. The staircase is covered in an ageing yellow carpet.

I close the door behind me, locking out the unseasonably cold wind and sideways rain and quickly take the stairs two at a time. I’m here for a medical before I move away to university. It’s my father's idea. He decided a medical would ensure any hidden health problems would be detected before I’m hundreds of kilometres away in Melbourne. I can see his point, but he's such an old worry wart. His constant fussing drives me nuts. I’m moving interstate, not to Kabul.

I reach the top of the stairs, slip my phone into my side pocket, and open the door to Dr Dennison's waiting room. A blast of hot air hits me in the face as the door swings open, and a room full of blank faces turns in my direction, like those rotating clown heads you find in a sideshow alley.

Dr Dennison’s been our family physician for as long as I can remember. He’s always looked old to me. I mean, he's probably only in his late 40s, but as a kid, I thought he was the same age as my grandparents. Truth is, he’s probably younger than my parents. It’s the grey hair. He’s always had salt-and-pepper hair.

His waiting room hasn't changed a bit since the early 80s, and it shows. An ugly grey tile floor is covered by a threadbare rug and a coffee table with chipped corners. Utilitarian seating, grey vinyl with heavy black metal frames, line the walls. The reception desk sits directly in front of the door, and the walls are covered in dark stained wood panelling. A TV is mounted on the wall opposite the chairs; the volume turned down to almost non-existent.

'Hi Jonah,' the receptionist says as I walk in. 'He's running a little late today. Take a seat, and he’ll call you when he’s ready.’

‘Thanks, Debbie.’

 

[ravenstar]

Debbie’s worked for Dr Dennison for at least as long as I’ve been coming here. She’s a tall, pencil-thin woman with iron-grey hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. She wears her usual uniform, a white top and sunshine yellow hospital scrubs. She always wears white sneakers. She looks at me over the rim of her glasses and smiles before turning her attention to typing up medical records.

Dr's waiting rooms give me the creeps. They're quiet places punctuated here and there with coughs, sneezes, or the sound of fabric scrapping across chairs as patients adjust how they're sitting. Old magazines lie discarded across the coffee table and furniture like the remains of another person's life. My grandmother used to donate her old Reader's Digest magazines to Dr Dennison's office. I wouldn't be surprised if they were still here, hiding among the piles of New Idea and Woman's Day.

Sitting in the waiting room are a mother and young child, both with red-tipped noses and the vacant eyes of someone who has a cold and should be in bed. A young boy sits with his broken leg stretched out in front of him, his leg plaster covered in cartoon faces and his crutches discarded on the floor beside him. An older lady sits next to him, staring at the muted television. A few seats up from her is a young couple, no older than me, looking pale and clammy, a home pregnancy test clamped tightly in her grip.

I take a seat as far from the others as humanly possible and open my Kindle. I don't know how long I'm reading for, but the crowd around me thins out and grows again as one wave of patients is replaced by another. The coughs and sniffs are replaced with wheezing breaths and mumbled conversations.

‘Jonah Clark.’

I look up as a deep rumbling voice calls my name. Dr Dennison stands next to the reception desk holding a yellow manila folder. I meant it when I said nothing here has changed since the 80s. I doubt Dr Dennison has even heard of computerised files.

I nod my head in acknowledgement, grab my bag and quickly slip the Kindle safely away before zipping the bag closed. Dr Dennison heads off down the corridor rapidly, and I'm left with no choice but to extend my stride to keep up with him.

'Jonah, nice to see you. What can I do for you today?' he asks as I drop my bag on one of the chairs and sit on the other.

‘I’m here for a general check-up before I move to Melbourne for university. Dad thought it’d be a good idea to make sure I’m all in working order.’

'Most prudent,' Dr Dennison says. He strokes his short grey beard and runs an eye over my chart. 'From what I see here, you've always been extremely healthy. No major illnesses, and very few childhood ones. How long has it been since you came to the clinic?'

'A couple of years, I guess,' I say, casting my mind back, trying to remember. ‘I think I had the flu or something.’

‘Well, let's get started, shall we,' the Dr says, standing up and waving at me to join him. 'Go behind this screen and put this gown on.' He hands me a white and green hospital gown that ties up at the back. With an uncomfortable grin, I take it and step behind the green room divider.

‘How naked do you want me?’ I ask as I pull my shirt over my head. ‘Naked as a baby?’

 

[ravenstar]

‘You can keep your briefs on,’ he says with a husky laugh.

I shed my jeans and shoes quickly, and when I'm standing in only my briefs and socks, I reach for the gown. I slip the cool fabric over my shoulders and tie it off with two bows at the back. I try to forget Dr Dennison is going to see me in my Funky Trunks decorated with splashes of neon colours. If I'd realised I'd be putting on a show today, I'd have worn a plain black pair.

Standing in the middle of the room, I'm suddenly struck with an inability to decide what to do with my hands. Having them hang down my side feels awkward. But cupping them in front of my junk makes it feel like I'm drawing attention to an area I don't want focused on. Eventually, I settle for clasping my hands behind my back. Dr Dennison turns away from his desk and steps towards me. I hope my face has assumed a blank, unworried expression, but I can feel the heat of a blush radiating up my neck and along my jawline.

Dr Dennison starts with the basics. He takes my blood pressure, listens to my lungs and undoes the top bow on the back of my gown, lowering the material until my chest is exposed. He places his stethoscope over my heart. I gasp at the touch of cold metal, and he chuckles softly under his breath. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his breath rushing up against my skin makes me shiver. I close my eyes as I feel an unexpected tingle roll through my ball sack.

He removes the stethoscope and places his palm over the spot where the stethoscope had been just seconds ago. The difference between the cold metal and his warm, dry hand sends electric sparks along my nerves. My groin responds again, this time beginning to swell in warning. Dr Dennison walks away, giving me a moment or two to get my brain organised, before returning with a small hammer which he taps beneath my kneecap. My leg jerks into a kicking motion, and he smiles, taking a second to pat my upper thigh before returning the hammer to his desk.

'Debbie, can you send Sarah in, please? Yes. No. That's fine. Thanks.' Dr Dennison looks at me and smiles. 'You can fix your gown now, Jonah,' he says.

I start blushing again as I realise I was so busy trying to ignore the electricity in my blood from his touch I’m still sitting here with my tits out for the world to see. I pull the gown back up to cover my shoulders, but I can’t tie it properly from this angle.

I look up at him shyly and give him a half grin. I have no idea why I'm acting like a virgin faced with a double bed in a cheap motel after prom. He's my Dr, this isn't a date, and he's not interested in me. I suck down a couple of deep breaths and try to focus on why I'm here.

Dr Dennison steps behind me and reaches over to tie up the strings hanging from the back of the gown. I feel the material pull tightly as he winds the two strings together and ties them together. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I gasp audibly at the sensations it sends flooding through my body.

A polite knock at the door is followed by a young woman entering the room. I twist my hips and sneak a hand under my gown. My cock is starting to thicken from the weight and heat of Dr Dennison's hand, and I don't need some young pathologist to see that. I slide my dick up until I trap it beneath my underwear's elastic.

 

[ravenstar]

'Hi, Dr Dennison,' the woman I assume to be Sarah says. 'Debs say you wanted me to draw some blood.'

‘Indeed,’ he says.

He talks to Sarah using a bunch of medical terms I don’t understand, all the while leaving his hand sitting on my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Part of me wants to tense the shoulder under his hand and give him a hint to move, while another part of me insists it will beat the crap out of anyone who makes him let go.

Sarah takes my arm, tightens a tourniquet around my bicep, and cleanses a spot in the crook of my elbow with an alcohol wipe before she slides the tip of the needle into my arm. Dr Dennison moves to the other side of the room and is busy writing notes in my file. I sit on the examination bed watching as hot red blood fills tube after tube.

'You bleed well,' Sarah laughs as she takes the needle from my arm and holds a cotton bud over the wound.

‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘It’s good to know I’ve finally got a natural talent.’

Sarah laughs at me. It’s the sort of forced chuckle you make in polite chit-chat when you know you're supposed to laugh, but the comment wasn't funny. She gathers up all her blood-drawing tools, slipping them into a hard blue box like a fishing tackle box and walks over to the door.

‘See you later, Jonah,’ she says. ‘Bye, Dr Dennison.’

Both Dr Dennison and I wave goodbye.

As she leaves the room and closes the door, Dr Dennison walks over and asks me to lie on the examination table. I swing my legs onto the table and reposition myself so the gown isn't bunched up. The paper cover beneath me crinkles, reminding me of those mattress protectors parents buy for incontinent kids.

Dr Dennison stands at my feet. He wraps his hands around my foot before slowly sliding my sock off. He cradles my barefoot, which I find oddly arousing. I don't generally like people touching my feet. Still, as I look down my near-naked body to where he stands, holding my left foot like a prized possession, I wonder what it would feel like if he was to kiss it.

I slowly stretch my toes, flexing them as if I were a cat. No claws come out, but Dr Dennison smiles and rubs the skin on the sole of my foot. I take a deep breath as I realise no amount of elastic in the world will shrink my next boner if he keeps doing that. He carefully examines each toe on my left foot. He slowly slides his finger along them, like he's searching for a flaw. When he's finished with the left, he lowers it to the bed and picks up my right foot. I lie there watching him, feeling my cock begin to fill with blood, and I can't believe I'm praying for him to kiss my foot. I’m a foot-hating atheist. I don’t pray for anything.

He puts my foot down, and I almost groan with disappointment. He walks up to me and helps me to sit up. Standing in front of me, he reaches around and undoes the bows at the back of the gown. My face is up against his chest, and it's harder than I imagined. Honestly, I’d never imagined it before, but I assumed it would be older and softer. I close my eyes and breathe his scent in deeply. A faint musky aftershave fills my nostrils, and I find myself fighting the urge to reach up and tug at his beard to pull his mouth down on top of mine.

 

[ravenstar]

He pulls the gown open, slides it off my shoulders, down my chest, and leaves it pooled in a pile in my lap. He pushes gently against my shoulders, and I lie down. The room is a little cold, and my skin is covered in goose pimples. My nipples are erect, and the pale golden blonde hairs around them seem to vibrate. I try to be subtle about it and rearrange my growing hard-on. Even though Dr Dennison is feeling my throat, it's clear he knows the effect he's having on me. It's equally clear he knows exactly what I just did.

I close my eyes as his large fingers slide against the fragile skin of my neck. His fingers prod and pry, pushing in to feel my lymph nodes. His fingers move on, pausing to press against the glands in my neck before sliding down my body until they reach my chest.

Dr Dennison extends my arms, feeling each muscle. He puts down one arm, reaching across my body for the other, and as he does so, his hand brushes softly against my nipple. I tense, my whole body wound tighter than a spring. He reaches my stomach, pressing his fingertips into my sides, looking for any sign of swelling or infection. Sadly, he finds none and stops touching me.

I'm about to sit up when I feel the gown lifted off my body. I'm so hard right now; the only thing that could prevent him from seeing my hard-on would be if he was completely blind. The idea of him needing to read my dick with braille, his fingers sliding up and down my hard flesh, is not the smartest one I've had today. I know I’m about to pass the point of no return if I don’t reign in my imagination.

I feel his fingers slide down both sides of my underwear, and for a split second, I'm caught between asking him to stop and begging him to strip. My eyes are still closed, but he makes no effort to continue. He just stands there with his fingers under the thin material of my briefs. Waiting. I lift my hips and bottom up from the examination table with a nervous breath. I feel the material slide away down my body and off my legs.

Lying there completely naked and hard, I listen as he walks across the room. I tense up momentarily when I hear the sound of the door lock engaging. A cupboard opens and closes to my left before I feel his hands return to my body and slide down my thighs. I moan and push my hips up again. He chuckles, the same soft rumbling sound he made before, and I open my eyes.

His white lab coat is discarded, hanging over his desk chair beneath his tie. He’s unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt, and I can see the hairy mounds of his chest. He’s gently drawing circles on my inner thigh, setting off rockets beneath my skin. He stares into my eyes as he slides his hands up my body. As the side of his hand skims across the head of my dick, I moan. I’m loud enough I'm sure Debbie will have heard me and will come rushing in and ruin everything.

Dr Dennison begins to draw his fingers down my chest. I grab him by the wrists. His hands stop moving, and he stands still, looking at me. I give him a crooked half smile and pushed his hands towards my crotch.

'Touch me,' I say. Well, it’s more of a gasp, but you get my point.

 

[ravenstar]

He allows me to push his hands towards my crotch. Slowly he drags his fingertips along my thick purple vein. With what can only be described as torturous intent, he makes his way towards the swollen mushroom-shaped head. My legs are trembling as he strokes around the edge of my head. Teasingly, he drags his finger all the way around it. He lowers his head, and I feel the warmth of his breath seconds before I’m engulfed by his warm wet mouth. I shudder, grabbing at the paper sheet beneath me as he slides my length into his throat. Feeling his tongue as it slid along my shaft on its journey to the head of my cock sends waves and chills coursing through my blood.

‘Fuck,’ I mutter.

Dr Dennison stands up, letting my hard penis land with a thump on my stomach. I look at him, half afraid he's had his fun, and it's time to leave. He keeps his eyes on me the whole time. He undoes the buttons on his blue and white striped business shirt, taking it off and throwing it on the floor near his desk. His fingers worked deftly at his belt, and his black trousers and underwear soon join his shirt on the floor. I raise myself up on my elbows and study his body.

I'd assumed he'd be all soft and squishy like many middle-aged men, but Dr Dennison has a body built by years of dedication to the gym. His chest is solid muscle, covered in salt and pepper hair from his chest to his groin. The hair tapers in to run down the middle of his stomach before it hits his happy trail and ends in a patch of manicured pubic hair. His dick stands out, hard and eye-catching. Involuntarily I clench my arse tight before realising nothing will stop me from riding his dick before I leave here today.

He rubs my thighs softly, running his hands up my body until his fingers squeeze my nipples. I sit up, closing the gap between us and place my hands on either side of his head. He smiles as I pull his face towards mine and lock our mouths together. Our lips flirt with each other. His act coy while mine demand. I try my best to get my tongue in his mouth. I need to fill him like I want him to fill me. He pulls back and tilts his head, sliding his tongue along the side of my neck from shoulder to behind my ear.

‘Calm down, Jonah,’ he says, his voice husky with lust. 'It’s not a race. Take your time.’

He leans in again, softer and gentler this time and joins our lips together. His instructions echo embarrassingly in my ear. I have almost no real-life experience with any of this. Sure, I jerked off Tom Simon’s after our school graduation in November, but this is all pretty new to me.

‘Hey,’ Dr Dennison whispers. ‘Where did you go?’

‘Nowhere,’ I say and turn my attention back to learning how to kiss.

Dr Dennison's lips brush softly against mine. His tongue flickers shyly against my bottom lip before disappearing back into his mouth. My breathing is shallow, and my mind races in a million directions at once. Dr Dennison slips his tongue into my mouth and pulls me in so close to his body that there’s no room to slide a feather between us.

‘What do you want to do?’ he asks.

‘Fuck me,’ I whisper.

 

[ravenstar]

He lowers one of his hands from the side of my face and starts to gently masturbate my dick. My body is flooded with sensations I’ve never felt before, and I reach down and grab his wrist to stop him. I’m already stupidly close to blowing my load, and I don’t want this to end. Not yet. Not so soon. His hand remains still, but he keeps kissing me, deepening his kiss and holding me tight.

‘Please,’ I moan into his mouth. ‘Please, fuck me.’

He lets go of my cock, and his fingers slide beneath my balls to stroke against my opening. I squirm as his touch triggers an avalanche of desire. He withdraws his hand, and I'd have slammed my legs shut to keep him there if I didn’t already have my legs wrapped around him. Instead, I cling tightly to his body and rub myself against him. He pulls back from me, and I tighten my legs around his waist.

‘Please.’

‘Be patient,’ he whispers. ‘I need to get the lube.’

I loosen my grip, and he leans over to pick up a bottle of lubricant. He squirts some onto his finger and smooths it across my arse hole. It’s cold and sticky at first, but it starts warming up soon enough. He slides his spare hand up my body, cupping the back of my head so I can't move. His tongue darts into my mouth. While I’m distracted by what his tongue is doing, he slips his finger into me, pushing past my hole’s resistance. I grab his shoulders, my nails digging into his sun-tanned skin, and groan.

‘Relax,’ he says. ‘I won’t hurt you, Jonah. Just relax.’

I try to relax, taking in deep breaths, listening to his soothing voice as he whispers encouragement to me, and actively trying to force my muscles to relax. It’s hard to do while he slowly moves his finger in and out of my body. I’m getting used to his finger when he slides it even deeper, pushing it against my prostate.

'Oh my god,' I groan. He begins to withdraw, but I push down, trying hard to follow his retreating finger to stop it from leaving my hole.

‘Are you alright?’ Dr Dennison asks, moving his mouth to my shoulder and nipping at my skin.

‘Fuck,’ I sigh. ‘I’ve never felt anything like this in my life.’

He laughs softly and lifts me off the examination table. Naked, with my legs wrapped around him, our bodies pushed against each other, I rub myself on him like I’m trying to leave my scent and mark my territory. He puts his hands beneath my arse and carries me across the room until I’m pushed against the wall.

‘I want to fuck you,’ he says. ‘Is that okay?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Fuck me. I want you to fill me.’

 

[ravenstar]

He moves and puts me on a table, sitting up against the surgery wall. He steps back from me, and I reach over impulsively and grab his dick. I slide off the table, falling onto my knees and lick at his slit. It’s salty, but his dick tastes clean and fresh. His skin is smooth under my hand and tongue. I softly drag my teeth across the fleshy head of his penis, and I’m rewarded with a deep moan.

He leaves me to entertain myself with his dick, licking it and tasting his pre-cum. His moans grow closer, more demanding, his breathing heavier. Without warning, he withdraws his cock from my mouth. He slides it into a condom which he liberally slathers in lubricant.

He puts his hands beneath my arms, lifting me into the air like I weighed nothing more than a balloon animal. I quickly wrap my legs around him again. I can feel his fingers sliding in and out of my hole. I ride the initial pain and pleasure sensations as he kisses me deeply. He lowers his head, licking and biting my collarbone as I feel a different pressure pushing against my hole. It feels thick and heavy. Urgent. Demanding. He bounces me in his arms, using the momentum to further open my cheeks.

I gasp in pain, and surprise, as he pushes the head of his penis into me. Tears fill my eyes as lust fills my body. I didn't anticipate the pain, but it feels like a rite of passage. I grope his shoulders, determined to ride this out by holding him tight against me. He pushes himself in further, and I bury my face into the side of his neck and gasp.

‘Remember to breathe,’ he whispers.

His voice is soft and gentle yet commanding. I pull back to look at him and swallow against the pain. To distract myself, I kiss him like it’s an Olympic sport and I’m the gold medal winner. He holds my cheeks apart as he continues pushing inside me. I’m about to beg him to stop when I realise he already has. I can feel his rock-hard cock buried inside me, but he’s no longer moving.

‘Is it bad?’ I ask, worried I’ve offended him somehow. ‘Why did you stop?’ I push my hips down, trying to slide more of him into me. I didn’t want him to stop. It hurt like hell, but I want it to last forever.

‘Relax, Jonah,’ he growls into my ear. ‘There’s nothing wrong. I’m just giving you some time to get used to the feeling. I want you to enjoy this.’

I rest my head against his forehead and cup his face in my hands. The kiss this time is slow and gentle. His tongue deep dives into my mouth, and at the same time, he thrusts his hips up and pulls my body down. He implants himself in me balls-deep. Shock and surprise steal my voice. I can do nothing but stare wide-eyed over his shoulder for a few seconds.

‘Breathe,’ he whispers again. His voice is a rough growl, like the sound leather makes being scuffed against gravel. ‘Deep breath, come on beautiful, you can do it.’

I force myself to do as I’m told and breathe. Nestled in Dr Dennison's arms, my back against the green-painted wall, and my legs wrapped around him, I feel safe. I almost scream as he slides away from me, only to slide back in. His cock nudges against my prostate. With each collision, my dick pulses, and pre-cum leaks onto his hairy stomach.

 

[ravenstar]

‘Fuck me,’ I gasp as he begins to speed up his rhythm. I hold on tightly to him, rocking my pelvis in time with his body. He’s grunting as I try to fuck his dick as much as he’s fucking my hole.

My breathing is harsh, and my blonde hair is slick with sweat. I can smell the musty sex odour coating the air around Dr Dennison.

'You're so tight, Jonah,' he grunts as he lowers me to my feet. He pulls out and turns me around.

He bends me over the table and slides his dick back into my hole. It isn't as gentle as it was earlier. He slams himself into me, and I lean back and moan. I don't care who hears me. I've waited all my life to be fucked into the ground like this, and nothing will stop it. Not now.

I feel his tongue slide along my upper spine, and my knees turn to jelly. He pushes my hips down and pulls my arse up. I moan and move in time with him. I push myself to ignore the discomfort. All I can feel is his dick owning my body, and I groan loudly as I ride his dick like it’s the reason I was born.

His hands slide around my body, pulling me up against him. He begins to tweak my nipples while he licks and bites my neck. I’m trembling, my cock fully engorged and leaking heavily despite neither of us touching it in ages.

His breathing is coming in rougher and shallower. I turn my head, trying to look at him. I want to watch him cum so badly. I want him to see me cum, to see what he’s done to me, my body’s reaction to him fucking me. He grabs my face, slamming his tongue into my mouth. I suck at it greedily. I taste him as his scent engulfs me, and his saliva runs into my throat.

'Kiss me when you cum,' I beg him, and he pulls out of me, turns me around and pushes me flat onto my back before pushing himself into me again.

‘Cum for me, Jonah,’ he mutters, leaning forward and sucking on my nipples as one of his hands reaches between us and begins jerking me off.

My brain goes blank as I tilt back and ride the sensations assailing my body. His cock sheathes itself in me like a sword sliding into a scabbard purpose-made for it. Tight and secure. His breath on my nipples, his tongue and spit bathing them, his teeth teasing them into sharp points. His rough hand slides up and down my shaft. He cups the head of my penis, circling my slit with the palm of his hand. I moan, trying to shift away from the intense feeling of pleasure. His body holds me firmly in place.

‘I’m going to cum if you keep doing that,’ I snarl.

'Good,' he says with the same cheeky half-grin I'd first seen only minutes ago, which now feels so weirdly intimate that it makes my dick grow even harder.

‘Please,’ my begging comes out in sobs. ‘I want to cum with you.’

'Cum for me,' he says, speeding up the rubbing as my pre-cum lubricates his hand, making the palm of his hand slide more easily over the head of my dick.

I gasp for air as my body takes over. My cock begins to pulse, and I clench my toes to try and slow down the inevitable. It’s no use. I throw back my head and start moaning uncontrollably as my body releases a fountain of cum.

Dr Dennison grabs the back of my head and covers my mouth with his. For the most blissful few seconds, I can't breathe. All I can do, all I want to do, is ride the intensity of my orgasm and lose myself in his kiss.

Sooner than I’d like, he lets go of my head, and I’m breathing in fresh air again. His pounding into my body intensifies, and I watch as his eyes become blank. I reach up and tweak his nipples. He stares directly into my eyes. He pulls himself out of me, drags off the condom and throws it on the floor.

Seconds later, hot streams of cum lash my stomach and chest. It flies with such ferocity that some of it lands in my hair and face. Dr Dennison pulls me up into a sitting position and picks me up. He carries me over to his chair and sits down. He licks his cum off my cheek before he positions me on his lap. I put my head against his shoulder and allow my body to relax.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘I didn’t expect that when you walked in the door.’

‘Me either,’ I say with a snort. ‘Best physical I’ve ever had.’

'Cheeky,' he says, tilting my face gently so he can kiss me softly. His eyes sparkle, and I stare into them until I force myself to look away.

We stay like this for a while, his arms wrapped around me. My body trembles now and then as the adrenaline in my blood returns to normal. I feel content in his arms. If we hadn't been sitting in his surgery with a waiting room full of patients outside the door, I'd happily go to sleep right where I am.

After a few minutes, he shakes me gently, and I realise I've dozed off anyway. I get up and begin to pull on my clothes. He offers me a wet face washer to remove the worst of our joint explosions. Weirdly I find myself reluctant to remove the evidence of our time together. I use it to clean him out of my hair as best as I can, though.

I stand awkwardly and look at him. Now that we were both fully dressed, it feels a bit strange. What do you say in a situation like this? Thanks for the fuck Doc. See you in flu season. Do you wave? Walk out the door? Make out with him some more, maybe?

I cut making out with him more out of my mind. If we start that again, I have a feeling I'll be arse naked, flat on my back on the cupboard again. Just the thought of it makes my dick twitch. In the end, he walks over and hugs me. I let him pull me close, and I wrap my arms around his muscular frame. I sigh as I lean against him and breathe him into me. He tilts my head and kisses me in a way designed to make my toes curl. I'm pretty sure my eyebrows are on fire at the end of it.

‘Thank you,’ I say, although it sounds sort of dumb.

He smiles but doesn’t speak. He walks over and unlocks the door.

I turn to look at him again as I’m about to leave. He’s sitting in his chair, writing something in my file,\

'Jonah,' he says without looking at me. 'Your blood test results will be back on Friday. If you'd like to book another appointment, I'd be happy to take you through the results.'

‘Sure thing, Dr Dennison,’ I say as I open the door and stand there grinning like the pigeon who ate the cat. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

‘Same,’ he says with a half snort of a laugh turning now to face me.

I close the door and walk down the corridor. Debbie is on the phone when I arrive, so I wait for her to finish her call.

“Will do, Dr. Yes, next Friday. Certainly, Dr.”

She hangs up the phone, looks at me, and smiles. I wonder if she knows what has happened back there. I feel like I’ve got I JUST GOT FUCKED MOTHERFUCKERS branded across my forehead.

'Dr Dennison has asked me to book you a late appointment on Friday to get your test results. He's got an appointment at 4 or his last appointment for the day at 4:30. Which would you prefer?'

I look back at the closed door to Dr Dennison’s office and grin.

'4:30. Thanks, Debbie. 4:30 is perfect.'

 

[Autolycus]

Phew! That was a very hot story indeed! Well worthy of publication as part of a collection of short stories.

You have got some possible irregularities with your time scale, however, and I quote…

‘…. called this his surgery since graduating from medical school in the early 90s. ‘

‘His waiting room hasn't changed a bit since the early 80s,’

‘ I meant it when I said nothing here has changed since the 80s. I doubt Dr Dennison has even heard of computerised files.’

 

[ravenstar]

Phew! That was a very hot story indeed! Well worthy of publication as part of a collection of short stories.

You have got some possible irregularities with your time scale, however, and I quote…

‘…. called this his surgery since graduating from medical school in the early 90s. ‘

‘His waiting room hasn't changed a bit since the early 80s,’

‘ I meant it when I said nothing here has changed since the 80s. I doubt Dr Dennison has even heard of computerised files.’

Thanks, Autolycus. Damn, that 80s. In my first draft, the Dr was older. I thought I'd found them all.