The end of the day and another doctor's office and here I am, waiting for the arrival of another doctor. A monumentally stacked receptionist who I normally would have paid more attention to had ushered me in. But having been referred by my dermatologist, Dr. Laurent, who in turn had been referred by my primary care physician, Dr. Park, I was sure that Dr. Adams, whomever she was, would be another sexpot, just like Dr. Park and Dr. Laurent. It was obvious that as long as Dr. Park was my primary care physician, I would never encounter a male doctor again.
And so I sat, reclining on a couch (not really a couch -- what do they call those things -- a chaise lounge) for I was in a psychiatrist's office. Dr. Laurent had suggested I see a psychiatrist for, "...certain feminine proclivities." I didn't really think that was fair. Yes, I was incredibly turned on by gorgeous women in charge taking advantage of me but who wouldn't be? I hadn't gotten to actually fuck either Dr. Park or Dr. Laurent though I'd jacked off often enough thinking about it, but I'd take what I could get. I realize maybe not every guy would submit to what I'd taken but an orgasm is an orgasm, and one provided by a beautiful woman was infinitely better than my right hand.
These thoughts were going through my head as the door opened revealing Dr. Adams, just what the doctor ordered. She wasn't as stacked on top as Dr. Park and Dr. Laurent, but she had enough from what I could see under her tightly buttoned blouse. What she was was tall, with legs for miles and an ass to die for, sheathed in a pencil skirt and sheer hose and heels. Yes another stunner, studying me as she peered over small wire frame glasses as she sat down in an Aeron chair before me, holding a clipboard in her lap.
"I'm Dr. Adams and I appreciate your coming to see me," she said in a low smooth seductive voice. "I hope that I can be of help to you."
Looking at her I knew that of course she could and once again, I was putty in the doctor's hands. "I'm not really sure how to start." I began hesitantly, distracted by the swish of her stockings as she crossed her legs. Were those hold ups or was there a garter belt? "I've never seen a psychiatrist before and don't think I really need one. I get along fine with my parents, I'm happy in my work and with my friends. I don't really have any complaints."
"Well that's all good, I'm glad to hear it," she continued. "I will say I notice no mention of a relationship. Perhaps that explains the..." she glanced at her clipboard, "feminine proclivities' Dr. Laurent mentioned to me in her referral?" she said looking up.
"Um, it's true, I don't have a girlfriend at the moment but..."
"So it is a girlfriend?" she cut me off. "Not a boyfriend?" she said studying me.
"What? No, not a boyfriend."
She chuckled. "I didn't really think so. But I have to ask of course."
"Just dotting i's and crossing t's?"
She laughed again as she made a check on the paperwork on her clipboard. "You've spent too much time studying my legs for me to think you're gay." I blushed. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."
I mumbled, embarrassed, "I couldn't help myself."
She smiled but shook her head; "I mean there's nothing wrong with being gay if that's what gives you pleasure. I'm sure you agree?"
"Um, sure, sure. I'm not gonna judge someone else for what they're into."
"Yes, exactly my point! Who are we to judge as long as no one is being hurt? Or underage, or nonconsensual, of course." She leaned forward as she spoke and now the buttons so tantalizingly unbuttoned on her blouse distracted me. My eyes shifted upwards and downward as she smiled, busted again. "But what about you, yes?" she asked. "How does this apply to you?"
"Um, yeah. I'm still not sure why I'm here..." I mumbled.
She shifted her chair closer and leaned in further. "You have a fetish," she stated.
"Uh, I don't know about that."
"Come, come," she went on. "I'm a psychiatrist and I think I know my job, don't you?"
"Well yeah, I wasn't questioning your ability or anything..."
"Do you know the clinical definition of the word, fetish?"
"No, no. I guess not. Something you're fixated on or something."
"Yes indeed. Something you fixate on. " She leaned forward and stuck her left leg out, running her hands up her leg as my eyes following her hands upwards. "Men, fixate on legs." she said. "Or...breasts" she continued, cupping her breasts through her blouse. "This is quite normal in the average male. Any women with an ounce of intelligence can use this to her advantage." she smiled.
God she was beautiful and she was right. She made it seem effortless as my breath shortened and I felt my cock shifting in my khakis. "Uhh..." I didn't know what to say.
She straightened up and leaned forward again, placing her hands on my knees. "A fetish is a fixation that is out of the ordinary; a sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular item of clothing or part of the body." She smiled. "And so we come to you."
"I like sexy clothes and tits, I mean breasts as much as the next guy, but..."
"Please, there is no one here but us. We have doctor patient confidentiality. "
"Yes I know, but..."
"Enough. " she said firmly. "Remember I have spoken with Dr. Park and Dr. Laurent and I know just what they did to you and how you responded." I shifted nervously. "I am in charge here. And I know exactly how to control you and make you respond." She lifted her hands from my knees and reaching up, pinched my nipples through my shirt. "Because of your fetish." Oh God. She feathered her fingers back and forth across my nipples. I let out a moan and she smiled, looking down at my pants where my cock was now beginning to tent. "So easy. So, so easy. They said you were a little bitch. It's almost Pavlovian." She laughed, pulling her glasses from her face and setting them aside as she reached upwards and begin to unbutton my shirt. I panted as she unbuttoned down to my waist and then, pulling my shirt apart, renewed her feathering so exquisitely on my now bare nipples. "I've never seen a little girl respond so fast."
She grinned as she continued to play, my nipples stiffening into hardened nubs. I panted and moaned in ecstasy, yet embarrassed at her taunting. But it was true. I was responding like a dog in heat. "You know what they would call you in the gay community?" she asked as she watched my cock harden and snake down the leg of my khakis.
"I'm not gay." I managed to croak out as she continued her torture.
"They would call you a nipple pig. There are gay men who have your fetish. They can cum just from having their nipples played with. I bet you will too if I don't stop." She glanced down at my khakis and saw a small-darkened spot on my leg. "Pre-cum already? You are a nipple pig." She laughed and abruptly sat back and I groaned with frustration as she stopped her feathering.
I was embarrassed but at this point I was possessed and would do anything for her to continue her sweet torture. "Please..." I grunted. My cock twitched in my pants and the darkened spot of pre-cum expanded. "Please..."
"They told me you would do anything as long as I played with your nipples and they were oh so right." She sighed. She leaned forward and undo did my belt and then, staring into my panting, face she slowly eased my zipper down and shifted my khakis down leaving a trail of pre-cum glistening on my leg as I raised off the chaise lounge to help her. With my pants at my knees, my cock throbbed through the cloth of my pre-cum soaked underwear. "Please..." I begged again as my unbidden fingers feathered my nipples of their own volition. "Please..." I croaked.
"You'll do anything for me now, won't you? And you know what's coming next. My friends have carved a new fetish into your fevered brain and I'm going to brand it there."
She stood up and reaching behind her, unzipped her pencil skirt. With her hands at her side she looked into my eyes as she agonizingly slowly lowered the skirt. As the front of the skirt caught at her crotch, I knew from my previous doctor's visits what was about to be revealed. But I was so, so wrong. As the skirt fell to the floor, revealed before me was a diaphanous black thong. And through the gossamer thin silk I saw a hardened cock, just like my own, tucked between her legs. I gasped in surprise, my hands falling to me sides as she grinned triumphantly.
"No fake substitutes today. Today you get the real thing." She pouted seductively as she lowered the thong and her cock sprang forward and out, jutting long and hard before her. "You like it baby?" She pushed her chair back and walked forward seductively, on those long thigh-high encased legs as her cock bobbed back and forth in rhythm with her swinging hips. "You ready for me?"
