Doctors Orders Ch 02

This story is the sequel to ‘Doctor’s Orders’. It is strongly recommended that you read ’Doctor’s Orders’ before reading this story. I received lots of very positive feedback on the first story. I hope you enjoy this one too.

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The doctor’s house-call on my wife a few days earlier began to bug me. Although it had led to my wife and I having fabulous sex afterwards, and on several other occasions since then, it was clear that that Doctor Davidson had misused his position of authority. The blunt truth was that he had sexually molested my vulnerable young wife, taking her all the way to a finger-fucking orgasm. And he had done it on my bed. It was irrelevant that she had actually gotten sexual pleasure out of the experience, or that I had gotten as horny as a jack-rabbit when she had told me all the details. I knew that she was mentally reliving the experience every time we had sex, as her orgasms were more frequent and much fiercer than they had ever been before. The memories of what the doctor had done to her that day were providing her with ongoing sexual pleasure. Another man was sharing our marital bed. It was really beginning to piss me off!

After about two weeks of stewing, I decided that I could not ignore the situation any longer. It would be foolish for me to punch the doctor out … I would finish up behind bars for that. But I would tell him he was a complete jerk-off, and then report the matter to the police. If nothing else, that would scare the shit out of him, which would be satisfaction enough for me.

I placed a call to the doctor’s office to make an appointment to see him. The receptionist told me that he was out of the office for a few days. My mind was made up and I didn’t want my confrontation with him to wait until he returned to the office. I hung up the phone and reached for the phone book. Sure enough, his home phone number and address were listed. I would pay him a surprise visit at home. I smiled grimly to myself. This time it would be me making the house-call!

Without delay, I drove over to his house and parked my car on the street in front. I pressed the doorbell and could her it chime faintly inside the house. While I waited for the door to be answered I began to have second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was a doctor and I was just an ordinary working Joe. If he denied everything, nobody would take my word over his. Just as I began to hope that no one was home, the door was opened. A beautiful brunette, about 35 years of age, wearing a white blouse and knee-length black skirt stood in the open doorway, one hand resting on the door handle. She had the most stunning brown eyes I had ever seen. I think my lower jaw dropped a bit as I looked at her.

“Yes?” she asked coldly.

“M-may I see Dr. Davidson, please,” I stammered. I had geared myself up for a confrontation with a man. Facing this gorgeous woman had knocked me off my stride.

“He is not available. May I help you?” She had a slight European accent and she pronounced the word ‘is’ as ‘ees’. I guessed she was French.

“I must speak with your husband (I was guessing she was his wife). I have a serious matter to discuss, and it has to be with him personally”

“Then you must make an appointment with his office” she responded stiffly. “The doctor does not see patients at his home”

“I’m not his patient.” I was beginning to recover my determination. “My wife is his patient and the serious matter I want to discuss with your husband is about her.”

“What serious matter about your wife?” She sounded a bit cautious.

“He fucked her,” I stated bluntly, and stared straight into her eyes.

The effect was dramatic. Her mouth opened slightly and she gaped at me blankly. She was speechless.

“He fucked my wife during a house-call about two weeks ago. Now I want to tell him what I think about him before I go to the cops.”

Her shoulders had sagged slightly for a moment, but now she puller herself erect again. “Your accusation is ridiculous, but we cannot discuss it here. You’d better come inside.” She spun around and walked into the house, leaving me to close the door and follow her. Instinctively, I looked down at her legs as I walked behind her. They were beautiful, with shapely calves and thin ankles. Her ass swayed slightly under her skirt as she walked. She was awesome. I have a fatal weakness for any beautiful woman with shapely legs and a tight ass. This woman had it all. I still had thoughts of revenge for her doctor husband, but just looking at her ass swaying in front of me made my thoughts turn in a different direction. I could feel myself getting horny. A germ of an idea began to form in my mind.

She walked into a small study and sat down on a chair. I sat down opposite her. She crossed her legs, giving me a brief glimpse of pale thighs. She saw where I was looking and glared at me hostilely before putting her hands on her knee to block my view.

“My husband is not here, so you will have to discuss this with me. Now, tell me about this absurd accusation from your wife. Women often make such accusations, you know, and they are always the result of sexual fantasies. This one will be no different. It is one of the hazards of being a doctor, especially a handsome doctor like my husband.”

“He gave her a complete physical exam, and I mean a complete exam,” I began.

“So?” she shot back. “That’s what doctors do.”

“She only had a cold,” I replied, suddenly not so sure of myself.

“How do you know? Are you a doctor?”

“He told her to strip naked,” I protested, hoping that this would make an impression.

“How else could he do a complete examination? One cannot do a physical exam on a patient who is clothed. You obviously know little about medical procedures.”

“Then he massaged her breasts and tweaked her nipples,” I countered, suddenly realizing that my arguments were beginning to sound weak.

“Were you in the room at the time?” she demanded. I shook my head. “He did not ‘massage’ her breasts as you so crudely put it. He was checking for lumps, and under the nipples is a common place for lumps to develop. You’ve heard of breast cancer, I presume.” She was sounding stronger, more confident.

I had lost the stripping naked argument, and I had lost the fondling of the breasts argument. It was time to move on to the next point, the one where I felt I was strongest.

“He slid two fingers in and out of her pussy, at the same time as he rubbed her clit.” I tried to make it sound dramatic. “He made her come,” I added, putting the emphasis on what I thought was a winning point.

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling a let out a long, exasperated sigh. “This conversation is preposterous,” she said, looking at me with disdain. “What you have described is known as an ‘internal examination’. The doctor puts one or two fingers into the patient’s vagina to test the vagina and uterus for abnormalities. He did not ‘rub her clit’, which is a disgusting comment, but pushed down on her belly so that he could check her cervix too. The term you used, ‘slid the fingers in and out’ is provocative and suggestive. If the fingers go in, they obviously have to come out again. In and out! Even you would not suggest, I hope, that he leave his fingers inside your wife indefinitely. Some doctors, including my husband, will simultaneously put a finger into the patient’s rectum, a fact that is a cause for childish interest in some men, but is a normal part of an internal examination. I would be surprised if he did not do that with your wife too.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff,” I challenged. Even to me, my protests sounded weak.

“First of all, I am a woman. Second, I am also a medical doctor like my husband. So I have both undergone these examinations, and I have given them. I speak from first-hand knowledge.”

Scorn was beginning to creep into her voice. “As for your wife having an orgasm during the examination, what has that to do with my husband? He is not responsible for your wife’s behaviour. My husband did not fuck your wife, sir, but I think she was hoping that he would.”

That final comment was closer to the truth than she realized. She was silent, looking at me with a hint of triumph. I was almost beaten. Almost, but not quite!

“So you are telling me that everything I have described to you is normal practice, part of a 5 minute medical examination?”

“Yes. Everything my husband did is accepted medical practice. You’ll have to ask your wife for an explanation about her orgasm!” She sneered at me when she spoke the last sentence. The sneer would not last long. I had set a trap and she had walked right into it.

“Then how would you explain the fact that the exam took not 5 minutes, which you say is normal, but 40 minutes?”

She gaped at me in disbelief. “Well … I … well…” she stammered, then gave up and stopped talking altogether. We looked at each other silently. I let the news burn its way into her brain.

“Your husband, the doctor, spread-eagled my naked wife on the bed, my bed, and caressed her and fingered her for 40 minutes. He finger-fucked her for so long she had an orgasm. He didn’t even stop at that point, but kept working her body over until she was close to coming again. When he finally left her, he had a noticeable bulge in his pants. I saw it for myself.” I was lying about the bulge, but I wanted complete victory.

Telling the story again had conjured up erotic mental images of my naked young wife cooperating with the doctor’s advances, spreading her legs when he told her to do so, and I felt my cock move. Despite everything else I felt, it made me horny to think of what happened that afternoon. And because I was telling the story to this sexy woman, it made me even more aroused. I knew my cock was starting to stiffen.

The beautiful woman sitting across from me had changed dramatically. The arrogance was gone and she had slumped in the chair. She was looking at the floor. She had uncrossed her legs, making the hem of her skirt ride a few inches above her knees. I was getting a good look at her fabulous knees and thighs but she no attempt to pull the hem of the skirt down. She was a picture of complete dejection.

“Your poor wife. Why didn’t she try to stop him?” she asked quietly.

“He dominated her, and being naked, she felt completely vulnerable. She felt powerless. She’s also quite young, and was reluctant to challenge a mature doctor.”

She hadn’t looked up while I spoke. A tear splashed onto her skirt, then another. Her shoulders began to shake and she sobbed quietly. I grabbed a box of tissues from the desk and went over to her, kneeling on the floor beside her chair. I rested my arms on her legs (my god, I was touching her legs!!) while she took a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. She slowly regained her composure.

“If it’s any consolation,” I said, trying to be helpful, “my wife is a very beautiful woman, just like you. He probably couldn’t help himself.”

She raised her head and looked at me. Her huge brown eyes, slightly red from crying, were swimming with tears. “Thank you, but I don’t feel beautiful right now.” She quietly blew her nose on the tissue. She looked so miserable and pathetic I was overcome with pity. I took her head in my hands, leaned toward her, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her fragrance wafted into my nostrils. She smelled of lilacs. She smelled divine. I took my hands off the sides of her head and rested them on her uncovered knees. For several seconds she looked at my hands on her knees, and then looked straight into my eyes. She made no attempt to remove my hands. I felt my cock twitch again.

“I think I know the day my husband made the house call on your wife. He came home early in the afternoon, much earlier than normal, and he was very sexually aroused. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me upstairs to the bedroom. I kept protesting that I was not in the mood for sex, but he ignored me. In fact, I think my resistance actually made him more determined. He pinned me down on the bed with my arms over my head and fucked me very hard. It was not love. He used my body to spend his brutal lust. It was very unpleasant for me and I despise him for it. If it is possible for a husband to rape his wife, I was raped that day. Just like he raped your wife with his hands. Your wife must be very beautiful, as you say, to have aroused him to such a condition. I’m sure now that he was thinking of your wife as he fucked me.” She looked at me, and another tear rolled from her eye. “Now you know how he got rid of that bulge you saw in his pants. He must have left your house and come straight to me. But I have not let him touch me since.”

I was overcome with pity for her. I took my hands off her soft knees (very reluctantly!) and wrapped my arms around her in a gentle hug. I was still kneeling on the floor. She moved her body forward to the edge of the chair and hugged me back. I pulled her firmly to me and kissed her on the lips. Her mouth was soft, incredibly soft.

“You seem like a very nice man,” she said to me, pulling slowly out of our embrace. “What is your name?”

“Alex,” I replied. “And yours?”

“Monique. I’m French.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“That’s twice you’ve called me beautiful.” She took hold of my hands and put them back on her knees. She kept her hands on top of mine. “It feels nice to have your hands on me. They are the hands of a man. Very strong, but gentle.”

My cock gave a violent twitch and started to stiffen further. I wondered if I had heard her properly.

“I feel very sorry for what my husband did to your wife. You have every right to feel angry with him. Now I have two reasons to be despise him … for what he did to me, and for what he did to your wife.” She had recovered from crying, and was looking tragically beautiful. Once again there were a few seconds of silence.

“Will you make love to me?” she asked quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “My husband is away, and we will not be disturbed. I want to feel loved again, especially by a man who considers me beautiful. I want you to hold me. I want your strong hands to touch me. Please!”

By way of an answer, I stood up, still holding her hands, pulled her to her feet and drew her body close to me. Our mouths came together and I felt her tongue slip past my teeth. My cock was now erect, and she could feel it pressing against her thigh. She pulled her mouth away from mine and giggled. Her laughter tinkled like a small bell. I cupped her gorgeous ass in my hands (at last!!) feeling the tightness of her muscles. Her ass felt as magnificent as I had imagined, and I pulled her hips harder towards me.

“I think we must hurry,” she laughed, pronouncing it ‘theenk’. “I don’t want you to have an accident.” Then she ran her hand lightly over my crotch.

We ran up the stairs hand-in hand like teenagers. We were both laughing and breathless with excitement. I couldn’t believe how this was turning out. Earlier I had decided that I would try to fuck her as a form of payback, but it was her who was now making all the moves. She wanted to get laid as badly as I did. And I wanted it real bad!

There were two beds in the bedroom, and Monique stood next to the nearest bed, unbuttoning her blouse. Our eyes never left each other as we undressed. The blouse and skirt were tossed aside and she stood motionless for a few moments to let me gaze at the vision of loveliness. She was simply stunning, with long, well-shaped legs, small waist, and flat stomach. She reached behind her back, unfastened the bra, pulled the straps over her shoulder, and tossed the flimsy garment aside. Her breasts spilled into view, the large, dark nipples already erect. She slid the panties over her hips, and let them drop to her feet. She kicked them aside. The black triangle of her pubic hair contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin.

I dropped my shorts, and my stiff cock stood out straight. I saw her look at my groin and her breasts began to rise and fall as her breathing quickened.

“Which is your husband’s bed?” I asked hoarsely. She nodded her head briefly toward the one she was standing beside. “Then that is the one we’ll use,” I stated grimly.

She smiled with understanding. “I think it is called ‘poetic justice’ in English.”

Without another word, she sprawled herself on the bed. “Please hurry, mon cher, otherwise I might have to start without you.” She opened her legs provocatively, and her hands crept to her pussy, her fingers slowly stroking herself.

I walked over to the bed, my erect cock swaying as I walked. I leaned over and kissed Monique on the mouth, and cupped a breast in my hand, twisting a nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “There’s just one more thing,” I whispered.

“OK, but please hurry, my darling.” She was gasping with passion.

I pulled the pillow from under her head, asked to raise her hips, and slid the pillow beneath her. With grim satisfaction, I noted that the pillow her husband rested his head on at night would be the very pillow that I would rest his wife’s ass on as I fucked her.

Monique was no fool, and caught the significance of what I had done. “He did this with the pillow to your wife?” she asked quietly. I nodded.

“More poetic justice,” she said, closing her eyes, with her hips and pussy pointing invitingly upwards. “Then this is how I should be for you.”

At long last I moved onto the bed beside her and kissed her soft mouth. I cupped her breast in my hand once more, twisting the nipple harder than ever. She drew her breath in sharply and a small “oh!” escaped from her lips. I moved my mouth down her body, grasping the other nipple lightly between my teeth. Her body began to squirm slowly on the bed. Her fist orgasm was not far away. Neither was mine.

My mouth continued down her slender, firm body, giving her navel a brief lick in passing. When I arrived at her mound, I swung my body over her leg, positioning my head very close to her pussy. Her pussy smelled wonderful, a heady mixture of soap, lilac, and the rich muskiness that is purely feminine.

I looked up the length of her body to see her face. Her head was tilted slightly back, her eyes were jammed shut, and her lips were slightly open. As I watched, her tongue slowly moistened the lips. Her breasts were rising and falling quickly.

“My Love,” I whispered, “Open your pussy for me.”

Wordlessly, she moved her hands from the sides of her body, and brought them between her spread thighs. I put my hands on the inside of her knees and pushed her legs further apart. Her fingers were long and slender, like those of a piano player. For the first time, I noticed that she was wearing red nail polish. She dug her fingertips into the sides of her pussy, and it opened up like petals on a rose. I got a wonderful close-up view of her entire pussy, and the opening to her cunt. Everything was moist and glistening. I moved my head forward, and put my mouth firmly over her soft flesh. She gasped, and cried a long “ohhhh!” She tasted even better than she smelled, and my tongue and lips worked on her twitching pussy while my heart pounded like it would burst. Moving up slightly, I drew her clit into my mouth and grasped it between my lips. At the same time, I pushed a finger deep into her wet cunt. Her body immediately convulsed, and her hips thrust up and down frantically. The sound that came from her mouth sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t tell whether it was a cry of agony or ecstasy, or both, but it was long and loud. It was the most dramatic orgasm I had ever witnessed, even wilder than the ones Liz had been having in the last two weeks.

With hips still thrusting, Monique pulled at my head to get me back up beside her.

“Quick, darling,” she gasped frantically. “I need you inside me. Oh Alex, my darling, my darling, my darling … “ her voice fading until she was no longer audible.