Page 17 of Doctor Stuff

“No, Traci. Put your other hand on my thigh.”

I whine around his cock. How could he even see what I’d done? His head is still tipped back, he’s not looking at me, but somehow he knew. I don’t want him to tell me to stop, so I move my hand to his thigh. If he’s bothered by feeling the arousal on my fingers now cold and wet against his leg, he doesn’t show it.

I squirm even harder, pressing my thighs together, as I start to bob my head up and down, taking out my sexual frustration on his dick with my mouth. He groans, thrusting up against my hand around his base, trying to get deeper into my mouth. The noise makes me even more determined.

I don’t know if I’m worshipping his cock, but I’m sucking it for all I’m worth, absolutely desperate to pleasure him… to please him. He groans again, his dick flexing against my hand, and I hum around him, using my tongue to the best of my ability.

Then his head lifts up and he sits up enough to take hold of my hair with one hand, holding me in place on his cock as he gets to his feet. Now I’m on my knees, his hand in my hair, and he’s staring down at me with naked lust in his eyes. I almost feel faint under his intense, aroused scrutiny.

My jaw is starting to ache a little, but I don’t care. I whimper around his cock, because he’s holding me in place, not letting me continue.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now, Traci,” he says. His voice is the same as always, but his eyes are burning hot. “You have my permission to try and get yourself off. But if you’re going to come, you have to do it before I do.”

What the fuck?

But it’s hot as hell.

He nods his head. “Hands down. I just want your mouth now.”

My hand drops away from his cock, and trepidation creeps through me, because I’m not sure how much of his dick I can get in my mouth. Not that I’m getting a choice, really. His hand tightens in my hair and he thrusts forward as he uses my hair to pull me toward him.

The thick length of his cock stretches my jaw open, pushing in far deeper than I’d been going on my own, making me gag as it hits the back of my throat. My eyes water, but he doesn’t stop, he just pulls halfway out and then thrusts in again, watching me with an almost fierce expression on his face. I whimper around his dick as he thrusts again, and shudder as my fingers find my pussy.

I have to come before him, if I’m going to come.

The sensation of my fingers rubbing over my clit is electric.

I don’t care that I can barely breathe.

I don’t care that he’s fucking my mouth so hard that my breasts are bouncing.

I don’t care that I’m choking and gagging as he batters the back of my throat with his dick.

All that matters is the need that’s pulsing between my legs, my fingers rubbing against my clit as I try to assuage that need. Tears are spilling over and rolling down my cheeks, but I’m so caught in a haze of lust that I don’t care. I’m rubbing harder and harder, becoming more and more dizzy as he forces his dick down my throat over and over again, cutting off my airway each time.

The pleasure is growing higher and higher, and I scream around his cock as my ecstasy peaks. The intensity of my orgasm would have made me fall over without his hand in my hair.

Through the waves of erotic rapture, I can feel his cock thrusting forward, all the way down my throat. His hand cups over the back of my head, holding me in place and I can feel him pulse against my tongue. I’m too dazed to try and resist as he begins to come, my throat working automatically to swallow him, because it was that or drown.

His groans drown out my muffled whimpers as I start to fight to pull back, my need for air overcoming my desire to please him.

My hands come up to push against his thighs, but I’m too weak, and he holds me in place for several seconds longer as he finishes emptying himself down my throat. When he pulls away, my throat feels raw, burning, and my stomach churns as little black spots dance across my vision. I gasp for breath through swollen lips, swaying slightly on my knees.

It was the most intensely erotic moment of my life so far.

“Not bad,” Dr. John says, reaching down to give my breast a fondle. He tweaks my nipple, which makes me startle and start to come back to myself. Then he pats me on the head before tucking his softening dick back into his pants and beginning to do them back up. “We’ll work on it.”

Shame rushes through me, though it does nothing to dispel the heat.

“No masturbating between now and your next appointment, Traci. I’ll see you next week.”

Jumping to my feet, I yank up the top of my dress to cover my tits, the one that he touched still feeling sensitive and tingly. Without looking at him, I rush for the door.

Once again, I find myself in the bathroom down the hall, rubbing myself to a second orgasm, though it’s not nearly as powerful as the one I had in his office with his cock down my throat. The feeling of shame within me is nearly as intense as the ecstasy.

I stare at myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. My face is flushed. My lips redder than normal. My hair mussed. My hard nipples are visible through the fabric of my dress.

It’s only then that I realize I’ve left my underwear in his office.