Doctor Simon Forman sat at his desk in a comfortably appointed house a few streets back from the South Bank of the River Thames, using the early morning hours of watery sunshine to scribble up his case notes. Always an early riser, he was in the habit of setting aside this precious time to write up his treatment of each patient that he had attended to the day before, rather than risking his eyesight squinting over a tallow candle in the dark of the evening.

Simon was at least as careful of his own health as he was of that of his patients, investigating and monitoring any ache or pain or strain he might feel both anxiously and tirelessly. However, even if he had wished to hazard his sight or incur a headache poring over his notes on the previous evening, his final patient of the day had persuaded him to spend a few companionable and ale filled hours at one of the taverns near the Rose Theatre where he was employed as an actor.

By the time Simon had left the tavern, his client was singing loudly with his fellows while standing on a table and evidently cured of the sore throat Simon had been treating him for.

Despite the jollity of the night at the tavern and the amount of strong ale consumed, Simon was alert and focussed at dawn as he carefully concentrated on his notes. The page was full of his crabbed handwriting, some with the ink showing faded with time as he squeezed more annotations in the margin, making sure to use every precious inch of the fine, expensive paper.

As the pen scratched away in the silence of the sleeping house a stronger shaft of sunlight peered through the mullioned windows, showing the fine proportions of the consulting room with its comfortable furnishings and all the medical and astronomical accoutrements of a fashionable physician.

As he wrote, Simon frowned as he looked over his treatment for a patient whose condition he could not help and who was aware he would not recover, and was unbearably frustrated with the limitations of his own powers and the medical knowledge available. He sighed in sorrow, and adding only a few more words, moved on to write up more mundane notes.

His good friend, the poet Robert Greene, had come in for treatment for yet another dose of the clap, and as usual, had charmed his way out of paying his fee. With a wry smile, he noted his prescription for Robert’s quailing yard, as being country born he used the old word for the male member. Most of his patients this week had come for remedies for seasonal coughs and colds, like his actor friend from the day before, and so he made a note to himself to order in more ingredients for this remedy.

He continued to scribble notes for those patients who had come to him for their horoscopes, one of the standard services he provided as a physician, and was so engrossed in his planetary surmisings that he was oblivious to the shouts of the watermen as they started their ferrying duties across the Thames to the City of London; the first sign of life in the bustling, if disreputable suburb around him.

His face relaxed as he scanned down the page and came to a patient’s name marked with a star and the word Halek, his own private code for those female patients who paid for his services in kind, a surprising number of which were more than happy to do, or to enjoy the gallant doctor’s attentions even if they had paid for his medical services. Simon was nothing if not a gourmand where women were concerned, and every opportunity whetted his appetite for more.

The first of these patients this week was Jane Watson, who lived a few streets away and whose family was well known to the doctor. Despite being only a year off twenty, Jane was as yet unmarried, which was unusual. However, she had been long promised to a diligent young man who had worked his way through many years of apprenticeship and wanted to be well set up in his trade before they finally married.

Jane had come to consult Simon about a trifling but persistent medical problem, and having had this successfully treated, she handed over a few coins and looked him straight in the eye, saying how she could afford no more with saving up to be wed, and started to undo the lace on her shift. Who was the good doctor to object as the lovely girl bared her strong, slim shoulders?

Simon stopped writing as he recalled the picture in the chair opposite him. In a matter of fact way, Jane let the cotton shift fall to her waist revealing her pert breasts, and what a glorious sight they were! Simon smiled dreamily as he recalled those delicious creamy curves, rising high and proud above the confinement of her stays. No doubt time and repeated childbirth would cause them to swell and droop, but for now, they were proud and perfect, tipped with neat nipples as sweet as the wild strawberries sold in the market.

As a medically trained physician, he came from behind the desk to admire these perfect specimens and praised the Good Lord for creating woman in such a heavenly image on earth. However, as a man, Simon just had to stretch out a hand to grasp such firm, succulent flesh, his greedy mouth following his groping fingers. After that, he could not help but reach into his breeches, unbutton and release his yard (which felt like it was swelling to those proportions).

Jane sat there passively as Simon took his pleasure on each delicious breast, only wincing a little as he nipped her accidentally with his teeth, so ardently was he working his now very red, swollen and over-excited penis. He then took her between his lips more gently, sucking those sweet berries into his mouth, and as a result watched that tell-tale flush of arousal stain the delicate skin of her throat and chest.

He did not dare lift her skirts without her permission as her husband-to-be was a hulking man beside Simon’s slight build and middle height, and he not want to face his wrath and any resulting injury, and so was more than happy just to suck and rub.

In his fervour, sucking hard on her perfect tit, he jerked his cock so wildly that he shot his seed all over the floorboards, narrowly missing the edge of the expensive carpet he had recently invested in. He shuddered and moaned his release at Jane’s breasts, while milking every last drop of pleasure with his hand.

Having finished, he reached for a clean handkerchief, a supply of which he kept handy for such purposes. He mopped up, re-breeched his temporarily satisfied member, and very gently lifted the coarse cotton over Jane’s shoulders, reverently hiding the beauties beneath and carefully re-tying the ribbon at her throat.

Still grinning at the memory, Simon ran his finger down the page until he reached another patient marked with a star and a Halek. This was a very different creature, he mused, as Kate the Bawd - or Mistress Kitty - ran the girls at The Boar’s Head Tavern just across the street from one of the theatres, and which enjoyed a very brisk trade when the playhouse was open.

Due to the risks of the business Mistress Kitty was a regular customer of Simon’s; not for herself, as she was at least semi-retired and in robust health, but she took the girls’ well-being seriously and not only because their trade was her source of income. Although the madam could easily afford Simon’s fees she was more than happy to give a little extra, knowing him to be a man of considerable appetite, and keeping the handsome doctor sweet was no hardship to her.

With a wide smile, Simon recollected as how, once she had clinked her coins on the table and asked with a knowing grin if Simon would like a little something more, without waiting for an answer she had kneeled before him in a trice and hauled out her prodigious bosom. Although a purist could not compare her vast and pendulous breasts to Jane’s dainty pair, Simon’s penis had no such taste or distinction and was rock hard even before Kitty’s naughty hand had delved in his breeches.

Faced with those vast, fleshy delights adorned with a pair of long, pink teats, each one at least the size of a thimble, Simon was content to receive what Mistress Kitty was prepared to give as he had with Jane. However, in this case from a perhaps unfounded fear of a particularly resistant strain of the clap rather than regard for Mistress Kitty’s long-lost virtue.

He slid his cock deep in the valley between her soft, pillowy breasts, and as Kitty expertly sucked and slurped on his cock head, Simon strained and pumped so vigorously that the chair legs bumped on the wooden floor to the rhythm with his eager thrusts. He came with a groan and Kitty purred deep in her throat with satisfaction as she swallowed his load, which made his moment of bliss all the more pleasurable.

As he recalled this with growing arousal, Simon could hear no sound of the household stirring around him and with one hand, traced down to the next patient marked with a Halek, while the other unleashed his now purple and rampant penis. He leaned back in his chair as he pondered over his most satisfying and surprising encounter of the week.

This patient was a young widow, who consulted him for an astrological forecast. Perhaps in her middle twenties, she had sat before him modestly, neatly attired in grey, and every inch the respectable matron. However, it soon became clear that she was eager to ask whether she would find herself a new husband, as she nervously consulted Dr Foreman over this matter. As he took her details and made his calculations, he gave her the good news that is was in the stars that she would indeed re-marry, but added that it might take a little longer than she hoped.

The widow’s face clouded at that, but as she handed over the coin for this visit, she asked hesitantly how long she might have to wait for a replacement spouse. Noting her distress, Simon readily agreed to make further calculations and for her to return for another consultation.

This emboldened the widow, and as Simon reached out to take the payment her hand touched his, as she confessed blushingly that she missed her husband’s touch and did not know if she could tarry any longer to enjoy that again. Frozen by the arousing touch of her soft, well-kept hand on his, Simon was silent as the widow went on to say hesitantly that she had been informed that the doctor might help her with satisfying this need in the meantime.

Galvanised into action and being nothing if not obliging, Simon came around the table to seal the bargain with a long kiss, and once the embrace was broken, and to his delight and surprise, the merry widow lifted up her sober dress and spread her plump thighs wide, revealing a beautifully furred mound and delightfully perky clitoris. On seeing those inviting nether lips, Simon’s penis, now suddenly in his hand, was on an inexorable path to slide in between to fleshly heaven.

And as he pierced her deliciously hot wetness, his willing partner let out a needy and impatient groan. After thrusting a little while in this position, Simon was aware that it might cause him a strain on his knees, and helping his lady rise he gently pushed her over his desk. With alacrity, she bent over and threw up her skirts so that Simon could enjoy her back view as much as her front. Her rounded bottom invited his touch and as he bent to kiss her soft, white, exposed skin she responded by arching her hips so that her gaping, ready and very fuckable female hole was clearly revealed for Simon to re-enter.

Gripping those smooth hips, he gave the widow a series of steady thrusts with his yard, her increasing gasps showing that she was enjoying the frolic as much as he. Even through a haze of lust, he could see that one of her hands had crept down between her and the desk to rub that swollen bud of her clitoris, her increasing ardour making her buck even more strongly onto Simon’s frisky cock.

After a series of faster, harder thrusts from Simon, the widow climaxed with a wail of pleasure that would have shocked the servants had they been unused to Simon’s exploits, and the resulting convulsions and velvety wet squeezing around his cock almost pushed him past any sort of control.

At the last possible moment, he pulled out of her succulent cunny with a gasp, his hot seed splashing satisfactorily over her quivering bum cheeks. As he recalled that exciting moment, the memory was too much for his penis which exploded sympathetically at the recollected pleasure.

As Simon reached for yet another clean handkerchief and heard the signs of the maid preparing breakfast in the kitchen, he considered that since the planets had predicted it might indeed be a while until the widow found herself a suitable husband that he might offer to provide interim comfort when she came for her next consultation.

After her previous enthusiasm, he reckoned it would not take much persuasion to cajole her up to his private chamber, and Simon’s cock twitched as he anticipated a more comfortable romp between the bed sheets, enjoying the widow’s full nakedness. Buttoning himself, he left the consulting room to break his fast and wondered what the new day might bring in terms of patients... and Haleks.