"Mr. Dexter, stay still—! Mrs. Nathalie, don’t move—!" She reached out, her fingers hovering over Nathalie’s trembling thighs, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "This—this isn’t possible—! You need to relax—!"
I let out another pained groan, my body arching as if I were in agony. "D-Doctor, it hurts—!" I whimpered, my voice cracking.
"It’s sucking in—! I can’t breathe—!" My cock pulsed inside Nathalie, and I let out a choked sob, my fingers digging into the table. "P-please, help —!"
Nathalie’s breath ca in ragged gasps, her cheeks burning with humiliation as she played along.
"D-Doctor, he’s trapped—!" she wailed, her voice trembling. "His cock—it’s locked inside —!" She squird again, her body still sensitive from her release, her liquid dripping onto the table.
Anya’s hands trembled as she reached out, her fingers brushing against Nathalie’s thigh. "Mrs. Nathalie, you need to push—!" she instructed, her voice trembling with a mix of professional urgency and sothing far more shaful. "Try to expel him—!"
Nathalie let out a desperate whimper, her body tensing as she pretended to push, her face contorted with a mix of embarrassnt and faux effort. "I—I can’t—!" she sobbed, her voice cracking as she squird beneath .
"It’s too deep—! It’s hitting my womb—!" Her fingers clawed at the examination table, her breath hitching as my cock pulsed inside her again, her body trembling with the strain.
Then, in a mont of sheer humiliation, a loud, wet pffft echoed through the room.
Nathalie’s face burned crimson. "N-no—!" she gasped, her eyes widening in horror as the embarrassing sound filled the silence.
"I—I didn’t an to—!" Her voice was thick with sha, her body freezing as if she wanted to disappear into the table.
Anya, who had been hovering nearby, her expression a mix of professional concern and sothing far more conflicted, seed to snap into action.
"Let... ... help," she muttered, her voice tight with a mix of frustration and sothing else—arousal. She stepped forward, her hands reaching out to grasp Nathalie’s hips. With a firm grip, she lifted Nathalie slightly, positioning her at an angle that would make it easier for to slip out.
And then—PLOP.
My cock slid free with an obscene, wet sound, glistening with Nathalie’s arousal and my own cum. The sudden release made Nathalie let out a choked gasp, her body sagging back against Anya’s hands.
"Aaaah—!" she whimpered, her cheeks still burning with embarrassnt as she covered her face with her hands.
Anya’s breath hitched, her fingers still gripping Nathalie’s hips, her own body trembling slightly. The room fell into a heavy, awkward silence, broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing. Anya’s gaze flicked between Nathalie’s flushed face and my cock, still half-hard and glistening with their combined fluids.
"Mrs. Nathalie," Anya said, her voice strained but trying to regain her professional composure, "are you alright?"
Nathalie nodded quickly, her voice muffled behind her hands, her cheeks still burning with embarrassnt. "Y-yes, Doctor," she stamred, her fingers trembling as she finally lowered her hands, though she couldn’t quite et Anya’s gaze. "I—I’m so sorry—"
Anya adjusted her glasses, her professional deanor slowly slipping back into place, though her fingers still trembled slightly.
"Mr. Dexter has now cald down," she said, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of sothing unreadable—frustration, curiosity, or perhaps even a hint of fascination.
She glanced at , then back at Nathalie, her expression carefully neutral. "However, we didn’t confirm our hypothesis. We still don’t know whether actual penetration is necessary for relief, or if external stimulation alone would suffice."
I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of my neck as if I were genuinely remorseful. "I’m really sorry, Doctor," I said, my voice laced with faux embarrassnt.
"It’s just... in that mont, I couldn’t control myself. The pain was so intense, and then—" I hesitated, my eyes flickering to Nathalie before dropping to the floor. "I just... pushed it inside without thinking."
Anya exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her clipboard. "It’s alright, Mr. Dexter," she said, though her tone carried a hint of sothing more—sothing almost like intrigue.
"This is a dical matter, after all. We need to understand the root of the issue." She turned her attention to Nathalie, who was still clutching the tube of ointnt like a lifeline.
"For now, the earlier prescription won’t be necessary since it clearly wasn’t effective. But Mrs. Nathalie, you’ll need to apply this ointnt to your swollen area twice a day. It should help reduce the inflammation."
Nathalie nodded quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Y-yes, Doctor," she stamred, her fingers tightening around the tube. "I’ll do as you say."
Anya’s gaze softened slightly, though her professional deanor remained intact. "Good. I’d like to see you both again in two days. We’ll reassess the situation then and decide on the next steps." She paused, her eyes flickering between us. "Is that alright with you both?"
Nathalie and I exchanged a quick glance, a silent understanding passing between us. "Yes, Doctor," Nathalie said softly, her voice still trembling slightly.
I nodded in agreent, my expression carefully neutral. "We’ll be here," I assured her, though my mind was already racing with thoughts of our next encounter.
The automatic doors of the hospital slid open with a quiet hiss, the evening air rushing in to greet us as we stepped outside. Nathalie’s legs were still unsteady, her body trembling slightly as we made our way toward the parking lot. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to steady her.
"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice laced with genuine concern, though my tone carried a hint of amusent. "You’re still shaking."
Nathalie leaned into , her breath still uneven. "I-I’m fine," she murmured, though her voice betrayed her embarrassnt.
"It’s just... a lot to process." She glanced up at , her cheeks still flushed. "Dexter, you really know how to make things... interesting."
I chuckled softly, squeezing her waist gently. "Well, we had to confirm the doctor’s theory, didn’t we?" I teased, my smirk widening as I thought about Anya’s reaction. "Besides, I think Dr. Anya might have enjoyed it more than she let on."
Nathalie let out a soft, exasperated laugh, burying her face against my shoulder. "You’re impossible," she murmured, though there was a smile in her voice. "But I can’t deny... it was thrilling."
We walked slowly, the weight of the evening’s events still heavy between us. The parking lot was nearly empty, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavent. Nathalie’s fingers tightened around the tube of ointnt, her mind clearly still on what had happened inside.
"Do you think she’ll really help us?" Nathalie asked quietly, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and skepticism.
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