Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Seven

My grip tightens on the table, my knuckles going white as I bounce on him, before I take over, holding my ass cheeks apart as I sit down on him repeatedly, rolling my hips, taking him deeper with every drop. He smirks darkly, one hand gripping my waist while the other moves between my thighs. His fingers find my clit, and without warning, he smacks it. I jolt, a carnal shout tearing from my throat as pleasure detonates through me, my hips arching into air as I instantly squirt all over both our inner thighs. I surprise myself even more when I don’t slow down, egged on by an increasing appetite, filthy words tumbling from my lips between gasps.

“Nnnn, you like that? Watching me fuck myself on your cock like this?” I grind my clit into him with each seating, breath hitching as tears stain my lashes. My voice is both familiar and unrecognizable, but it sends a thrill through me, a newfound power behind my lust. The memory of last weekend flashes through my mind—him fucking me like this in the dining room, his attendant watching, witnessing every wet slap, every moan. The memory alone makes my pussy spasm around him, and he feels it.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on me,” he rasps, voice thick with hunger, his fingers tightening on my hips. His breath hot against my spine. “You enjoy this position? Being so full, so fucking stretched?”