She'd had her asshole licked by drunken frat boys. Drunkenly youthful men who'd lined their heads up behind her ass like animals at a trough, their tongues rhythmically lapping up and down, slipping and sliding between pussy and anus.
She sucked dick. Not like a priss either; she took all sorts, no cock too hairy, no smell too strong. And for the guys she liked - after she'd let them thrust their dicks in and out of her tight, little asshole for a couple of pumps - she'd suck them clean without a second thought.
----------
Today was a slightly nerve racking day for Lacey. The whorish alcohol fueled nights of college debauchery had been put on hold, temporarily. After making the long drive north from her large, southern, state college, she'd eased her SUV into the circular driveway of her parents New England home. And thus began her winter vacation.
The town, small and quite, belied the sleazy undercurrent of the neighboring city that ebbed and flowed each morning and evening with the tide of men who commuted back and forth along the rail lines. What they did in the city was, to their wives, only vaguely understood as "business." And to the husband's the wife's toil was equally opaque. This was the world into which Lacey was born.
The nights had grown long as the days receded, and the cold blistery winds, only intensified by the absence of sun, whistled through the girl's wavy brown hair as she stepped out of the car. The air gusted under her fleece and stabbed through her tight, black yoga pants sending a chill down her spine. Her bladder was full after hours of driving, and a nervous energy coiled through her core. Leaving her bags in the car, she walked to the side door and rang circular, glowing doorbell.
She heard a muffled sound of movement as someone bounded down the stairs. In a hurry, based on their heavy footsteps. Then she saw her younger sister Jen, casually round the corner, walking toward the door, a controlled smirk, that Lacey knew her sister to wear whenever she was excited. The door clicked open, loudly, against the cold, December night.
"Hey Lacey," her sister casually mouthed.
"Jen! How are you!" blurted Lacey, less question, more gasp of elation.
"Not bad," replied Jen, still trying, in her high school manner to keep her facade of disinterested cool intact.
"Ahhhhh," What have you been up to?!?!," inquired Lacey.
As the two girl exchanged pleasantries, the older girl's sorority style speech, interspersed with valley girl inflections, and seemingly endless exclamation marks filled house as the girls settled into the living room where their parents were cuddled together on the oversized L-shaped sofa watching one of those macabre true crime shows that suburban households insatiably crave.
"Lacey, how was the drive?" her father asked as he stood, lumbering towards her, arms open for a hug.
Her mom smiled at her and did the same. The four chatted for a bit over the din of the TV. Her older sister, had recently graduated from college and had landed a job in the city. Her younger brother had recently returned home from college for his winter break and was spending the night at a friend's ski house. It was just the four of them for the night.
After the initial intercourse of dialogue, Lacey interjected,
"Ughhh, I have to pee, I'll be right back," and she scampered to the half bath off the living room's open floor plan.
Before she'd made it a few paces from the couch, her mom casually said, "Lacy, don't forget, I scheduled your gyn appointment for tomorrow at 11:00, ok?"
She felt a flash of heat bolt through her body as she heard the words: gyn. She quickly nodded and continued to the bathroom.
She pulled her yoga pants and thong down together and planted her curvaceous bottom on the toilet seat. As she released a hot stream of urine, she looked down and noticed the unkempt state of pubic hair. "Gotta trim that before tomorrow," she thought.
The idea - that in just a matter of hours her whole body would be exposed before doctor Jennings - made her hot with anxiety. Despite the drunken casual sex that characterized her college nights, the prospect of being spread eagle under the harsh halogen lights of her doctor's shitty 1980s style office, staring at the false ceiling of fire-retardant tiles while a middle aged woman prodded her privates was just too much for Lacey.
----------
She woke up the next morning, her hair disheveled, but her mind laser focused on one thing: the gynecologist. After undressing, she walked into the bathroom and performed her usual ablutions, only with much more precision, more focus. She would be on full display today.
As she stared at her body in the steamed up post-shower mirror, she took stock of her assets: Long, wavy hair. Radiant skin, still warm with the summer's kiss. Bright, Crest-whitened smile. Neatly painted finger and toenails. Pert, B-cup breasts. Light, medium sized areolas, topped with perfectly plump nipples. Bellybutton ring, tasteful, yet noticeable. Caramel eyes.
And best of all: her especially narrow waist that tapered into her voluptuous hips and cartoonishly nice ass.
----------
Any sense of pride she felt while marveling at her body in the mirror quickly faded as she sped towards the doctor's office. In its place grew an increasing unease. With each passing mile her heart rate felt like it increased tenfold. Her labia would be splayed, her asshole inches from this woman's face. No alcohol to dull the awkwardness. And as sickly nervous as Lacey felt, there was the hint of arousal, a sensation she had not had prior to or during any of her previous five appointments with the gyno. "Strange," she thought.
----------
As she stepped out of the car, she felt awash in a wave of irony: her outfit, heavily clothed in layers of cloth, topped with her down winter jacket - all the comfort it provided - would soon be gone. She would be colder in the doctor's office - wearing nothing but a paper gown - than she was as she stepped into the brisk December air.
She walked into the office and approached the receptionist, the same bubbly blonde that she remembered from last time.
"Hi, I'm Lacey Rogers, and I'm here for my appointment," Lacey said, doing her best to sound upbeat.
"Hi Lacey, Doctor Jennings will be right with you, if you don't mind having a seat," the receptionist said as she gestured towards the waiting room - a room straddling the line between clinical and residential with its stark, efficient design and stacks of old issues of Cosmopolitan and Vanity Fair.
Lacey took a seat and fiddled with her phone, checking her various social media accounts before sending out a bevy of awkward, gyno-humor Snapchats to her sorority sisters.
"Lacey Rogers? We're ready for you in exam room three," a petite nurse beckoned.
Startled, Lacey got up and followed the nurse into the room. It was large and white and its broad, tinted windows overlooked the parking lot.
"Here's your gown, just get undressed and I'll be back in a sec to get your vitals. Ok,Lacey?"
Lacey nodded and feigned a smile.
"Great," said the nurse as she pulled the door shut behind her.
All alone in the big white room, Lacey quickly began to take off her many layers, stacking her coat, the sweater, then top, then bra in a pile atop a chair in the corner.
She kicked off her beat-up converse low tops before jerkily sliding her yoga pants and thong down her smooth, tanned thighs. Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable she hurried to dawn the last bastion defending her modesty, the sickly aqua colored paper gown.
She took a seat in the chair beside the one housing her pile of clothes, and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
As she sat there glancing from meaningless poster to poster she became painfully aware of the huge windows behind her - could people see in? She thought back to when she walked up. The tint of the windows was such that she couldn't make out the interiors of the upper floors, but the lower floors were unguarded to her gaze. She was now sitting in a room on the first floor.
