Gynecologist at home

He never imagined making house calls. But private practice dictated its own rules. Patients with money wanted comfort, privacy, and complete confidentiality. It was more peaceful for everyone. The only thing he firmly resolved for himself was no liberties. Under any circumstances. Examination, consultation, appointments—and goodbye. She scheduled an online appointment a week ago. She filled out the form as standard: routine checkup, twenty-four years old, no complaints. The voice on the other end of the line was young and slightly agitated. And there he stands at the door of her apartment with a medical kit. The door opens almost immediately. A short, red-haired girl with curls spilling over her shoulders stands before him. Her green eyes look at him with curiosity and poorly concealed embarrassment. She's wearing a light, champagne-colored silk robe, cinched at the waist with a belt. Beneath it, something decidedly more elegant than her usual lingerie is visible. “Come in, Doctor,” she says, stepping back into the hallway. “I’m a little worried.” He walks into a spacious, bright living room. A gynecological chair—portable and foldable—is already in the center. Next to it is a table on which she has carefully laid out a towel and some cosmetics. “No need to worry,” he says, placing the suitcase on the floor. “Everything will be quick and painless. Make yourself comfortable.” She nervously fidgets with the belt of her robe. — Maybe some tea? Or water? "Thank you, after the examination," he smiles professionally. "Let's not put it off any longer. Please take off your gown and get comfortable in the chair." She nods, turns to the window, and tugs at her belt. The silk slips off her shoulders and falls to the floor. He freezes for a moment. Under her robe, she wears a set of emerald lace lingerie. The translucent cups of the bra barely contain her breasts. Her panties are more of a decorative strip than an article of clothing. And then there are flesh-colored stockings with silicone elastic, clinging tightly to her thighs. "A delicious girl," flashes through his mind. And then: "You're on call. Forget it." “Mmm, I wanted... well, for it to be pretty,” she says, noticing his gaze. “Stupid, right?” "No, it's not stupid," he looks away to the suitcase, clicking the locks. "It's your right. But for the examination, you'll still have to take off your underwear. For now, leave your bra on, and please, your panties." She takes a deep breath, bites her lip, and pulls the lace strip down her thighs. She shifts from one foot to the other, pulling it off completely. She looks up at him. He feels something inside him skip a beat. - Have a seat. She climbs into the chair and settles in. Her stockinged feet rest on the footrests, her knees still together. — Please spread your legs. I need access for an examination. She slowly spreads her thighs. The emerald lace of her bra contrasts beautifully with the milky whiteness of her skin. Below, neatly trimmed reddish curls. He puts on his gloves and sits down on the chair next to her. "I'll palpate it now. It'll feel a little cool—it's the gel." He squeezes a clear substance onto his fingers and gently touches her outer labia. She shudders slightly and lets out a soft sigh. “Is everything okay?” he asks. - Yes, yes... just... continue. His fingers glide expertly, methodically. But he notices her breathing deepening. She watches, unwaveringly, as his hand moves between her spread legs. "Is there any pain here?" he presses lightly. "N-no... on the contrary," she blurts out. She immediately blushes and bites her tongue. "Oh, I wanted to say that everything is fine." He continues palpating, his fingers sliding with increasing confidence. She closes her eyes and slightly shifts her hips toward his hand. “Doctor...” she whispers. - Yes? — Is it necessary to wear gloves? He freezes. He looks at her. His eyes are wide open, his pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed. "You see..." she licks her dry lips, "I think that... well... tactile is more important. Without latex. You'll wash your hands afterward anyway." It's a complete breach of protocol. He opens his mouth to say a stern "no," but instead hears his own voice: "You're right. This really does allow us to better assess the condition of the tissues." He pulls off his glove. His fingers are exposed. She follows this movement with a greedy gaze. “Shall we continue?” he asks. - Yes, please. Warm fingers touch her again. This time the sensation is completely different. She moans softly as he parts her labia and runs the pad of his finger along her clitoris. "Is the sensitivity here normal?" His voice sounds lower than usual. "Very... very normal..." She no longer tries to hide her excitement. Her hips are shaking. - Then let's check deeper. He slowly inserts his finger inside. She gasps and immediately squeezes it inside herself. "You're so tight," the words escape him. He no longer speaks like a doctor. “Is that bad?” She looks at him with eyes drunk with desire. - This is wonderful. "Doctor..." She takes his wrist and nudges his hand so he can insert his finger deeper. "Can I have two?" - Yes, girl. If you want. He inserts a second finger. She sobs in pleasure, her back arching. It's incredibly hot and wet inside her. His fingers begin to move rhythmically, pumping in and out of her pliant depths. She looks at his trousers. The fabric is stretched so tight it's about to split. "Doctor, what's that you have?" She nods at his groin. Her voice is no longer that of a patient, but of a playful girl who knows exactly what she's looking at. - This is... a reaction to a thorough examination. “I want to see,” she says, reaching for his belt. "No need," he tries to maintain a professional tone, but his body betrays him completely. "I shouldn't..." "Doctor," she unbuckles his belt and pulls the zipper down, "you said we needed to assess the condition of all the tissues. Let me assess yours." His cock literally jumps out of his shorts. It's huge, throbbing, with bulging veins. She freezes for a moment, her mouth open. - Oh my God... how big... how beautiful... Her fingers wrap around the shaft at the very base. She runs her hand up, exposing the head. Then down, hiding it in the folds of skin. "Do you like it, girl?" he asks. He's no longer a doctor now. Just a man who wants this red-haired beast. “Very...” she continues to caress him, exploring each vein with her fingers. “I want to taste him.” - Try it. She leans over as far as the chair will allow and runs her tongue over the head. A salty drop of precum lingers on her lips. - Mmmm... - she licks it. - Delicious. She wraps her lips around the head and begins to suck, taking his penis deeper and deeper into her mouth. She continues to caress the base with her hand. "Good girl..." he moans. "Take him all the way." She tries, but it all doesn't fit. Then she starts licking the shaft, moving lower and lower, to the balls, and back up to the head. "Doctor," she breaks away for a second, her lips glistening with saliva, "I'm so wet down there. Check." He doesn't need a second invitation. His fingers return to her pussy. She's truly wet—juices flow down her thighs, staining her stockings. "You're very wet," he states. "This is an excellent reaction from your body." “I need... you to check me out from the inside,” she looks at his cock. “For real. Without fingers.” - Girl, I shouldn't... “You have to. It’s therapy,” she smiles and spreads her legs as wide as possible. “I need you to inject... the medicine. Deep, deep.” She extends her arms to him, inviting him in. He rises, hovering over her, placing the head of his penis at her dripping entrance. "Come on, Doctor," she whispers. "Fuck your patient. I want it so bad..." He enters. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter. She screams with pleasure, and her scream is drowned out by his groan. - Oh-oh-oh, girl... you're so hot inside... so tight... She wraps her stockinged legs around him, pulling him even closer. He begins to move. Slowly at first, letting her get used to his size. But she thrusts her hips forward, demanding more. — Faster! Doctor, please, faster! Fuck me hard! The chair creaks under their movements. His hands grip her hips, leaving red marks on her skin. She caresses her breasts through the lace, pinching her nipples, constantly begging him not to stop. — I want to cum! I'm going to... I can feel you filling me up! - Come on, my girl, cum on my dick! Show me how good it feels! She screams, arching her entire body. The spasms squeeze him so hard that he's on the edge himself. - I... I now too... — In me! Cum in me, doctor! I want to feel it! He growls as he spills inside her, pulsing and shuddering. She moans in time with his thrusts, taking every last drop. They lie in silence for a few minutes, breathing heavily. Then she raises her green eyes to him and quietly says: "Doctor, are you making a follow-up appointment? I think I need a few more sessions. To consolidate the therapy..."