busty teen medical exam

April 16, 2013
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It was a fully equipped examination room. Everything was antiseptic clean and gleaming. The centerpiece, of course, was a leather examination table complete with a slide out leg rest and stirrups. I looked at him, shaking my head in wonder, wonder and awe, wonder awe and fear. All of it tinged with an undercurrent of excitement.

“I put in the screen for you to use for changing,” he said, slipping his suit coat off and donning the lab coat for the first time. It was startlingly white with “Dr. Thompkins ” embroidered in small red letters over the top left pocket. “I thought you might feel more comfortable that way since I can’t step outside while you change. If I tried, you’d likely have to come bail me out of jail in that cute little gown I put back there for you.. umm.. open in the front for me please.” He ended it with a friendly chuckle, stringing a new stethoscope around his neck to complete the look.

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He hoped she hadn’t noticed the tremble in his hands, the way his eyes were drawn to the curve of her hip, the rise and fall of her chest with each delicate breath she drew. He always assumed she was attractive but he was ill prepared for her stunning beauty. The smallness of her sent testosterone flowing to all the wrong places today. She was here for help. She trusted him as a ‘healer’. He couldn’t betray that trust, would take it as a personal indictment of his character, his principles. He had to keep himself focused on his quest, his longing to bring her peace through his careful ministrations.

He snapped on latex gloves, folded back the soft fabric of my patient’s gown. “Let’s have a look here,” he said softly, just enough pressure on each knee to give him clear view of my genital area. The room started to spin and bartholin’s gland pressed out a large droplet of musky sweet nectar. I was dizzied by it. A small triangle of softly curled brown hair, neatly trimmed. Everything else in the most intimate area of my body was shaved and flawlessly smooth. With an expertise that only drove my passion higher, he deftly spread my labia and touched the gloved tip of one finger to the moisture nestled there and held it up for me to see. It glistened under the bright light. “You’re doing just fine, Ms. Fancy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Lay back and get comfortable while I get things ready for your treatment.” and he was gone. The gloves snapped off as loudly as they snapped on. I heard them rustle into the trash can.

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