I had the information, I just didn’t know what to do with it. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had my first, incredibly intense orgasm at the hands of my doctor. I can’t replicate the same sensation he did, no matter what I try. How was I going to tell my boyfriend what I wanted? He doesn’t even know I went. I couldn’t very well say I hit up the gynecologist and he made me cum so hard it woke a sleeping sex beast inside me that I had no idea existed, let alone how to tame the damn thing.

I’ve never focused on sex so much. I was a good girl, I waited until I got to college, met a nice guy, then dated for an entire year before I let him between my legs. As much as I care about Steven and everything he does for me, now I can’t stop thinking about what he doesn’t do for me. I long for half of what Dr. Taylor made me feel, but know that it’ll never happen again. And it’s with this knowledge that I attempt to convince myself for the tenth time today to quit thinking about him. And like some cruel joke orchestrated by the universe, I see him: Dr. Taylor, in the campus supply store. I immediately stop and turn my back to the window.

My next class starts in fifteen minutes, and today of all days my notebook paper runs out. I have to go in. Just ignore him. There is no way I could possibly say hello, not even if I was just imagining his fingers inside me. With my eyes on the ground, I walk into the store. I find the paper and debate what to buy when I hear his sexy voice.

“Jennifer.” It’s been two weeks, and he still remembers my name. I turn, immediately surprised that my memory of his face did not do him justice.

“Dr. Taylor.” He looks smart and attractive in his trousers and button up shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. All broad shoulders and dark hair as he walks up.

“How are you?” he asks with simple friendliness, in no way hinting at our past.

“I'm fine, you?”

“Pretty good, helping lecture pre-med students.” He nudges his head toward the theater.

“A doctor and a professor.” He shrugs.

“I used to volunteer as a firefighter too.”

“Okay, stop, before you make us all pale in comparison,” I compliment him, and he grins. We smile at each other for an uninterrupted three seconds before I let my eyes flicker away.

“And what is it you’re trying to become?”

“An engineer,” I answer.

“You’re not so pale yourself,” he encourages. I smile at him.

“So how is everything?” he asks.

Something about his face makes me certain he’s questioning my sex life. I debate actually asking him if there is something wrong with me after all. I open my mouth to speak, but immediately stop myself, unable to get the words out. He raises an eyebrow and I look away feeling myself blush, once again, right in front of him. I shake my head at my own idiocy. Dr. Taylor takes a step toward me, and I reluctantly look back up at him.

“Come see me tomorrow. I have an opening, call and ask for it. You can ask your questions then.” His head tilted to the side, blue eyes smoldering me, I nod in answer. He smiles and takes a step back. “Bye Jennifer.”

I watch him walk away, realizing I have to sit through my next class with my panties soaking wet.

I won’t go. Of course I won’t go. I want to, but I won’t. I know what I want is completely illegal between him and I, at his office of all places. Also morally wrong. His silver wedding band was ever present. He’s probably ten, fifteen years older than me, with kids of his own. On the more realistic side of things, I could be making all this up in my head. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw what I wanted to see just now, that look he gave me. I’m still entirely too shocked at how horny I seem to always be. But I do my best to ignore it. I ignore the craving of his touch, the memory of the fire he ignited inside me. I ignore the sex beast rattling her cage, aching, screaming, begging for more of the mere taste he gave me. I ignore all of it as I call his office to reserve that appointment.

I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not even myself as I sign in at the front desk. I am someone else entirely, sitting on a generic padded chair, waiting to be seen by him. They call me back and I do everything possible to calm myself, not wanting an onslaught of questions if my heart rate is out of control. However, when a nurse leads me to an empty room, my pulse starts hammering. The minutes tick, and finally someone wraps on the door.

“Come in,” I call, and Dr. Taylor enters. Every cell in my body is aware of him.

“Jennifer,” he says my name in greeting, as per usual, and I like it way too much.

“Hello.”

“How are you?” He sits on his swivel chair in front of me.

“Good, how are you?” I’m surprising myself at how collected I seem, considering I’ve already started to metaphorically fragment at his proximity.

“I’m good, thank you. So what’s going on?” Every ounce of his attention is on me, so I know it doesn’t escape his notice when I swallow around the lump in my throat.

“Um... I um…. I’m still having trouble,” I admit, trying to pretend this is a totally normal conversation.

“Climaxing?” he clarifies.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, I’ve tried doing what you showed me. I tried asking my boyfriend to…. anyway, nothing seems to be working. I’m beginning to think the first time was…. a dream of some kind.” I give a tiny smile at my facetiousness, hoping to keep the mood light. I figure if I was right about the latter and he doesn’t really want me, at least maybe he could actually help me figure out what’s wrong.

“Well, lucky for you I was there the first time, and it definitely wasn’t a dream. So the good news is you’re able to.” Dr. Taylor’s expression turns unreadable for a moment. I glance away, but end up looking at his hard chest beneath his shirt, the white coat, and his tie. I want that tie wrapped around my... wow. I am officially a different person. I glance back up and try to somehow stop my cheeks from going pink to red when I find he’s still looking at me. His blue eyes look a shade darker, and he stands up. “Undress from the waist down and I’ll check everything again. If it will make you feel better…”

He’s holding out a paper gown when his eyebrow ever so slightly raises. Funnily enough, this is exactly what would make me feel better. So I slowly reach out and grab what he’s offering, looking up from under my lashes.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, then walks away after a beat.

Alone in the room, I remove my clothes in a numb state. I’m trying not to imagine anything about what’s to come. If I give it too much thought, my head will explode. So I say yes when he asks to come back in. Something I immediately regret. To my surprise, I realize I’m already ridiculously wet at the prospect of him touching me again. I can feel the warm spot I’m making as I sit on the wax paper. No longer able to bluff, I feel nervous. If he looks between my legs he’s going to see how wet I’ve gotten just sitting here. I already feel the embarrassment coloring my shoulders. I contemplate actually telling him to leave. And while I’m lost in my own head, he puts on gloves, steps up to my legs and lifts my chin with his hand.

“Relax,” he says, my chest mildly heaving. “Lay back.” I do as he says, stopping myself on my elbows. My legs automatically open for him, and when he looks down, I know he sees my glistening pink skin. His expression instantly grows dark, his blue eyes nearly as deep as the ocean. Fuck it. Now he knows. When he looks back up at me, his thumb finds my clit, and I fail to hold in my gasp. I stare up at him through a very innocent expression, and now he’s an entirely different person, too.

“You tried this?” I nod. “And it didn’t feel good?” It takes me a second to compile my answer around his rotating extremity on my flesh.

“Not as good as when you do it,” I pant honestly.

“What about your boyfriend?” The words hang in the air for a second before I shake my head, silently indicating no. “Did he touch you here?” His two fingers slip inside me and lay on my g-spot. My hands grip the sides of the table, and I shake my head furiously.

“Not like that,” I breath as he rubs my two spots once again. Back and forth, his thumb pushes on the top of my slit, his other fingers carefully rotating inside me. The texture of his tight vinyl gloves fondling me makes this even crazier.

“You haven’t had an orgasm since last time?” I shake my head no again. He works me for a long moment, me fighting back ear splitting moans the whole time, writhing on the examining table. Then he pulls his hands away. I could cry. I realize he’s reaching for the patient clothing I’m covered in, pulling it over the top of my head and tossing it. He doesn’t stop there. He pulls my shirt off, then grinds his mouth to mine as he unhooks my bra. Me completely naked, and him completely clothed, our tongues dance as our hands search.

My head is spinning.

“Has your boyfriend ever tasted you?” Dr. Taylor asks into my mouth.

“No,” I say, if he’s asking what I think he’s asking.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” I shake my head, and he smiles, nothing but white teeth. “Stay quiet,” he warns, and hooks his hands under my thighs, moving my ass to the edge. Before I know what to do, his head is between my legs. My left hand finds a large, tight handful of his hair, and my right flies to cover my mouth before I groan aloud. Because holy fucking shit, I have never felt anything so spectacular in my entire life.

Dr. Taylor runs his tongue, wide and flat, completely up my pussy, and in that one stroke, I am his. Submissive and eager, I would do anything for that tongue. I lean back on one elbow and keep my hand in his hair, holding him to me, praying he wouldn’t stop. My first thought is how surprised I am by the texture of his mouth muscle. It's warm and wet and firm, which should all be obvious, but to actually experience him licking me so intimately is unlike anything I ever expected. Tasting me, sucking on me, exploring every inch of my now very willing sex. This is unyieldingly satisfying, a need I didn't know I had was being completely alleviated.

“Oh my god,” I moan, nearly breaking my whisper. His eyes meet mine, tongue pulsing against my clit, and I can feel the pleading complacency on my face. I cannot get enough. My excitement has reached heights I never knew it could. The feeling of being so exposed to him while he’s still dressed in professional regalia; tie neatly in place around his neck, doctor’s coat sheathing large shoulders, all the way down to his still tied shoes. And I am as naked, open, and willing as I can get, laying before him, his mouth on my heat. Just as I don’t think it could get any better, his gloved fingers work their way inside me again. I lie back completely, both hands coming to tightly cover my mouth, because I cannot stop the sounds escaping my throat. Dr. Taylor strokes my g-spot, then wraps his lips around my clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. I buck my hips, and he puts a forearm over my pelvis to hold me down, the sanitary paper beneath me crinkling in protest.

I won’t last long. I know this as he thrusts his hand and licks my arousal, over and over, my body convulsing. The spots he's targeting have more freakishly acute nerve endings than I ever knew, and my insides respond to his rhythm.

“Dr. Taylor,” I whisper, knowing very well how crucial it is we stay quiet. He’s staring up at me from between my thighs, his pressure increasing, knowing what’s about to come. “Oh please,” I beg. He latches onto my clit, nursing my erotic bundle of flesh, and I feel it. The same unstoppable sensation pouring into my cervix, until it becomes too much, and explodes into the rest of my body.

“Mmmmmmm!” I cry into my hand, rocking my hips against his face, feeling my muscles throb around his fingers. It doesn’t stop. Another wave of nirvana flows through me, and then another. My slender, tight, heated body twitches beneath his touch, back arching, toes tightly pointed. This one was even better than the first. I hum until I start to shake, feeling the remnants of the best orgasm of my life leaving my body. I slowly come down, Dr. Taylor sucking the entrance of my pussy, and a chill rolls down my spine. I tug on his hair and he finally pulls away, grabs my hand and sits me upright.

“You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he says into my ear, then kisses me, as if encouraging me to try for myself. I kiss him back, aware of the tartness of my own orgasm. “Help me get rid of this,” he mumbles, grabbing my hand and placing it on the bulge in his pants. After another kiss, I don’t hesitate to slip fluidly to the floor in front of him. Despite my enormous, physically draining release, I earnestly do as he says, looking up at him as I undo his leather belt. Button and zipper and boxers aside, his dick is the biggest I have ever seen. Though I have only actually seen one other, it’s obvious he’s among the more hung men of the world. Perfectly straight, long and thick, I take his head into my mouth. That’s about all that fits, but I don’t give up. I stroke him and suck him and tease every inch of his heavy, achingly hard cock. Truly a woman possessed, I have never been so anxiously slutty in my life. I have only done this once before, but as amateur as I am, he likes it, quietly humming and whispering "fuck". Admittedly, I don’t feel much like an amateur. I imagine I look like a porn star, my long blonde hair in his hands, kneeling naked before him, mouth stuffed entirely too full. The taste of his manhood, the naughtiness of this moment, none of it bothers me. So I suck him.

“Jennifer,” Dr. Taylor says, and though I’m new to this, I know what that means. Doing something the old Jennifer would never have done, I keep going. In some tiny, unoccupied corner of my mind, I notice I really did become someone else since yesterday.

I keep the smooth, round head of his dick in my mouth, and suck hard . Then it happens.

“Oh fuck, Jennifer,” he groans lowly, then cums right into my mouth. Trying not to use my teeth, I keep him at the back of my throat, barely tasting his tangy sperm as it unloads down my tight esophagus. Hands holding my head at the convenient height of his pelvis, his slowly makes me bob my neck, giving him the friction to finish he’s looking for. Then I keep going. He eventually has to do the same thing I did to him; gently pulling my mouth off of his sensitive skin.

He takes a step back, and I sit on my feet, both of us staring at each other. Then he smiles and puts his softening dick back in his pants. I purse my lips to keep from smiling back. What the fuck just happened?

Dr. Taylor pulls off his gloves, tosses them in the trash, then reaches out a hand and pulls me to my bare feet. Standing naked before him, I watch him fasten his belt, run a hand over his hair, and pick up the clipboard, once again looking like nothing ever happened. He slips a hand in my hair and puts his mouth on my opposite ear.

“I hope that helped,” he says, and I can’t stop the wide smile this time. Dr. Taylor kisses my jaw, then walks to the door, winking at me before he slips through it.