Forbidden Consultations

Chapter 1: The Doctor's Dilemma

The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air of Dr. Ethan Caldwell’s office, but beneath it was something raw, primal. I, Nurse Lila Voss, stood over him, my fingers tracing the sensitive skin between his cock and balls, pressing harder than he anticipated. His sharp intake of breath turned into a whimper, his body shuddering as he came harder than he had in years, his cum spilling over my hand. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes, wide with shock and lust, locked onto mine.

'Jesus, Lila,' he panted, his voice raw. 'I’ve never... fuck, I’ve never felt anything like that. I need to taste it—taste us—on you.'

I smirked, stepping back, my fingers slick with his release. 'Oh, do you now, Doctor? How badly do you want it?' I teased, my tone dripping with challenge. I bent over, reaching between my legs to scoop a bit of his cum from my dripping pussy, bringing it to my lips and sucking it off with a deliberate moan. His groan was desperate, like a man denied the sweetest dessert.

'Prove it,' I purred, perching on the corner of his desk. I leaned back, my feet splayed wide on the edge, my wet pussy exposed, his cum slowly trickling out. 'Show me how starved you are.'

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, his tongue diving into me like a man possessed, lapping at the mix of our arousal with a hunger that made my thighs quiver. 'Fuck, Lila, you taste like sin,' he growled against me, his breath hot on my skin. I gripped the desk, biting my lip to stifle a moan as his tongue worked me over, relentless and greedy.

But there was no time to clean up. My next patient was waiting, and I was still buzzing, horny as hell. I didn’t bother with panties—Ethan had pocketed them with a wicked grin—and I hadn’t worn a bra. Mr. Harold Grayson, a regular in his late sixties, was already in the exam room, lying on the bed. He’d always flirted, but lately, he’d grown bolder, brushing against me ‘accidentally,’ his hard cock pressing into my hip, or tracing the seam of my pussy through my pants with a sly finger. I’d always laughed it off, telling him to behave, but today? Today, I was a live wire.

As I leaned over to check his chart, my shirt rode up, and his head tilted, his nose brushing my bare nipple. His tongue darted out, trying for a quick suck. I let him have it for a fleeting five seconds, a jolt of heat shooting through me, before I pulled back with a smirk. 'Naughty, Harold,' I chided, turning to work on his foot. My ass was right by his hand on the bed, and I propped my right knee up, balancing myself with a hand ‘innocently’ on his cock through the thin sheet. I bent down to pick up a pen, knowing full well the outline of my pussy pressed against my tight pants, a wet patch from leftover cum betraying my arousal.

His fingers twitched, pushing at the fabric like he ached to dive in. I glanced over my shoulder, catching the raw need in his eyes. 'See something you like, old man?' I teased, my voice low and taunting.

'Lila, I’ve never... I’ve been faithful to my wife for forty years,' he rasped, his voice trembling. 'But you—God, you remind me of my daughter. I can’t help myself. I need to touch you, smell you.'

I arched a brow, stepping closer and tugging my pants down just enough to give him a clear view of my glistening pussy. 'Then don’t just stare, Harold. Prove you can’t resist.' His breath hitched, and his fingers hesitated only a moment before brushing against me, his touch tentative but hungry. The scent of my arousal filled the air, and I saw the conflict melt from his face as raw desire took over. He leaned in, his mouth closing over me, sucking on my pussy like a man starved for decades.

'Throw a leg over me, darlin’,' he murmured, his voice thick with lust. I didn’t hesitate, kicking off my pants and straddling his face, one foot on the bed, the other on the floor, my dripping heat hovering over him. His tongue plunged into me, and I gripped the bedframe, a moan escaping as memories flickered—memories of forbidden touches, of Grandpa’s hands, of late-night visits I shouldn’t crave but still did. Harold’s desperate groans beneath me only fueled the fire, and I knew this was just the beginning.