Private doctor visit

Imagine, my mother's friend is named Eva Adamovna. I first heard this name in childhood, when I was about seven, and it caught my attention with its rarity; all the girls I knew were named Lena, Tanya, and Anya, and I had never heard names like Eva at all. And this Eva also had Adamovna, not a very common patronymic. Eva Adamovna herself, however, had no complexes about this. From that first meeting with her, I have very vague memories. As a woman, they consist mainly of two impressions: the smell of perfume mixed with the smell of medicine, and cold hands that felt and tapped me. She is a pediatrician and, at my

mother's request, came to examine me because I had chickenpox.

I'm not exactly ugly, but I'm a rather unnoticeable guy, and I don't make any particular achievements in studies or sports. So, all I can do is admire my female classmates and lust after them, secretly masturbating at home, alone. And so, at this point in my life, I saw Adamovna for the second time. She came to our place for some reason, something to do with my mom. She stood and talked with my mom in the hallway for exactly five minutes. However, that time was quite enough for me to look her over, and after that looking, a familiar sweet ache began in my lower abdomen. Indeed, the first thing that caught the attention was the jet-black hair and slightly slanted eyes of the same color.

Then, breasts not too large but pleasantly rounded, noticeable very well through the blouse. Her rather wide hips were hugged by a tight gray skirt ending just above the knees. And Adamovna's muscular, tanned calves transition into slender ankles, as she has to walk a lot. And delightful little toes, with nails painted pink, peek out from under light sandals with small heels. Obviously, after she left, I engaged in my favorite activity, masturbation, and I often masturbated afterwards, first simply remembering how she stood in the hallway, and then imagining us in different situations where our relationship developed by mutual consent. These daydreams completely replaced fantasies involving my classmates, especially since Adamovna continued to visit us often.

Then, in my fantasies about Adamovna, the theme of rape began to predominate. Apparently, the reason was the fact that such a scenario was more realistic than one in which Adamovna was seduced during a medical examination by the charms of an eighteen-year-old pimply boy. My parents left for the dacha at eleven, leaving me alone until evening. Today, Eva Adamovna was supposed to come over. My mom waited for her arrival until the last minute, but after my father started cursing, she left anyway, warning me that if Eva did come, apologize and say that I couldn't wait for her. When they left, I seriously thought that in this situation there was a real chance for my sexual dreams to come true, and this thought scared me a lot, while also exciting me at the same time.

The longer I thought about it, the more aroused I became and the weaker the fear grew. Fear of failure; I wasn't thinking about the consequences at that moment. In the end, I decided I had to try. My father was a policeman, and I knew where he hid the handcuffs; I had found them a couple of times in the nightstand in my parents' bedroom. The doorbell rang at twelve. By that time, I was fully prepared. I open the door. Behind the door stands she, the object of my sweet dreams. She is dressed the same as during our second meeting: the same skirt, the same blouse, the same sandals. Only the pedicure is now silver-colored. "Hi, Antosha. Is mom home?" she asked me. Her voice is feminine and soft. "Yes, but she went to the store, she'll be back soon." "Okay, I'll come by later," she tried to turn around, but I stopped her.

— No, no, she asked me to invite you in if you came, she'll be back soon." "Well, okay." Eva started taking off her sandals. "No, no, don't take them off," I protested. I really like the look of her feet in sandals. "Come into the room." I led her to my parents' bedroom. In the bedroom, she sat on the bed because there was nowhere else to sit. She sat like a schoolgirl, knees tightly together, palms on them, and began looking around the surroundings; she had never been in this room before, and the fact that I invited her here was surprising to her. "How are things at school?" she asked me, apparently to keep the conversation going. "So-so," I brushed it off vaguely. And then I got straight to the point. "Can I ask you something, as a doctor?" "What about?" "About autogenic training.

— I was reading this book, it says how to do it, you know, unlocking a person's deep potential and so on." "You want to ask if it's true? Possibly, though I can't tell you from my own experience." Eva was slightly confused. Apparently, she didn't expect such conversations from a half-wit. "Well, look," I interrupted her. "For example, stretch your arms forward, palms down, and close your eyes." I tried to say this in as businesslike and innocent a tone as possible. Adamovna, smiling, obediently stretched her arms forward and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "No, not like that, turn to face the window so the light falls on your face.

She turned. Her outstretched arms ended up right over the lattice headboard of the bed, which was a rather sturdy construction of decorative, ornate interweavings of strong steel rods. For another second, I admired how she sat half-turned on the bed, slightly parting her round knees, and deftly, with my father's handcuffs, fastened her hands to the bed, to one of the ornate interweavings. Feeling the cold bracelets on her wrists, she opened her eyes and stared at them in amazement. "Oh," she cried out softly when I pushed her. She fell onto her side and the handcuff chain twisted. It turned out that now she was lying on her back, pressed to the bed by my not-too-heavy body, and her arms stretched upward—I had fastened them quite high—were securely shackled.

Her legs, in the sandals I liked so much, were still hanging off the bed. My hands lay on her shoulders, feeling the bra straps. For the first time, I felt warm female flesh under my palms, though still only through the fabric of the blouse. I tried to fix that immediately and decided to tear Eva's blouse, grabbing the lapels with my fingers, but then Eva came to her senses and began to struggle desperately. "You freak, you little bastard, you son of a bitch! Let me go, you bastard! Ayy! Aaau!" she screams furiously, writhing her whole body and simultaneously kicking her legs. The fabric tore, several buttons flew off, and the blouse opened, revealing thin collarbones and rounded breasts under the cups of a white bra. The sandals flew off her feet, and one of them, describing an arc, hit the window, almost breaking the glass. With her knee, she painfully hit me in the side, and twisting, jabbed her right elbow into my lips, splitting them.

— You fucking pervert," she continues, and then I, feeling the taste of blood on my split lips, pulled back and lightly punched Eva in the upper stomach. Her scream broke off mid-word, and she started coughing, convulsively gasping for air, ceasing all resistance. Without thinking long, I piled on top of her again, began to hike up her skirt with my right hand, sliding over the smooth skin of her thigh, while with my left I tried to pull down my sweatpants. Then she started jerking again, having caught her breath a little, and I decided to moderate my ardor. She wasn't going anywhere now, I thought, I just need to do everything more comfortably, as I had planned initially. I hit Eva in the solar plexus once more, and while she, eyes wide open, was recovering her breath, I grabbed her legs by the ankles and straightened them with a jerk, simultaneously laying the woman flat on her back. Then I sat astride her knees, thus depriving her of the ability to kick.

Feeling her warm thighs between my knees was extremely arousing. My erect cock was ready to tear the thin fabric of my pants. I looked at Inga's face. From her eyes, black trails of mascara mixed with tears had spread across her cheeks. Her eyes looked at me with hatred. I slapped her hard, then again, and again, and she began to sob, whimpering; I rubbed my bruised palm. Eva's left cheek reddened, and now her eyes looked at me with fear and pleading. "Antoshenka, sweetie, please, what are you doing. Don't, Antonchik." "Yeah, and half a minute ago you were calling me a bastard and a freak," I smirked. My voice trembled with excitement. "So, shut up and listen. I'm going to tie up your legs now. If you try to kick me, I'll bring pliers and pull out your toenails, understand?" "Understood!" Eva nodded convulsively. I carefully got off her.

Eva, stretched out as if on a string on the bed, doesn't move, only her body is shaken by sobs, and she watches my actions with horror. I brought a clothesline and tied nooses with slipknots at the ends. I put one loop around the ankle of her left leg, the one closer to me, and tied the other end of the rope to the farthest post of the headboard opposite the one to which her hands were shackled, thus pulling her leg to the side. Eva moved her right leg to hide her crotch, covered by white panties, from my eyes. Maneuvering, I performed the same operation with her free leg using the second rope, without any resistance from the frightened woman, and my eyes saw the coveted sight. Thighs spread wide, but the hiked-up skirt and thin fabric of the blouse hide the most tender and secret places of the body.

— Not for long," I grin. So, on the bed before me lies my mother's friend. Her wrists are securely shackled to the headboard with shiny handcuffs, her bare, tanned legs are spread wide and slightly bent at the knees, tied to the opposite headboard. The blouse is torn, only a couple of lower buttons remain, revealing the heaving chest with small, rounded breasts in a white bra. The narrow skirt is hiked high, and I can see lacy white panties hugging her pelvis. A beautiful face with a small nose and thin, trembling lips is smeared with mascara that has run with tears, and in her wide-open eyes, fear is frozen. I continue to greedily examine her, simultaneously deciding what to do next and concluding that I will stretch out my pleasure as much as possible. First, I'll undress her completely.

But Eva is tied in such a way that simply taking off her clothes won't work. So, opening the nightstand by the head of the bed, I take out scissors. I sit on the edge of the bed. The woman began to tremble. Though I myself am trembling with lust and excitement. I reach out, unbutton the remaining intact buttons of the blouse and open it wider, revealing a stomach with an appetizing navel and a small, barely noticeable scar starting just below the navel and disappearing under the skirt. "Where did you get this scar?" I ask. "From a C-section," Eva mutters in a trembling voice. I know she has a daughter two years older than me and that she is divorced from her husband. "So, you didn't give birth like everyone else? Didn't want to suffer?" "No. There was severe toxemia, a narrow pelvis, the doctors decided not to risk it." "How old are you?" "Forty-one. Antoshenka, I'm two years older than your mother, I treated you when you were little, what are you doing to me?"

— That's good that you didn't give birth like everyone else. Means your pussy is still tight, and it will be more pleasant for me to fuck you," I say calmly and stroke her stomach. "Oh God," Eva whispers in horror, and I feel the woman's stomach tense. I unbutton the buttons on the skirt. But pulling the skirt down is hindered by the widely spread legs, and with the scissors, I simply cut the fabric all the way down and, pulling the skirt out from under Eva's butt, toss it aside. I start on the bra, cut the front strap on the chest and cut the shoulder straps. Happily, I toss this mutilated item of her attire aside as well. Now the breasts with small dark nipples are hidden by nothing. Putting the scissors aside, I place both palms on her breasts. I feel soft, pliable, and trembling flesh. Squeezing harder, I hear Eva's convulsive sigh. Taking the nipples between my fingers, I begin to twist them in different directions.

Eva groaned suppressedly. "Nno, don't, please." I lean down and take a tender nipple into my mouth, squeeze it with my lips, lick it with my tongue. I caress both nipples alternately, simultaneously squeezing her breasts. In short, I do everything I've seen in movies and read about in various instructive articles. After a few seconds, I feel that her initially soft nipples have hardened and swollen. I squeeze the nipples with my fingers again and begin to tweak them in every way. "Aaahhh, God. What are you doing, Anton. Stop! No! Ahaa." The fact that she got aroused surprised me, since I'm sort of raping her. I understand, if you tug on a guy's dick, he'll eventually get aroused and come, regardless of his desire, but women are a different matter, I thought. Could it be that female nature is essentially not much different from male.

It was a revelation for me that the same could be done with women, and I understood that this forced arousal was extremely agonizing for Adamovna. All the more pleasant for me. After a while, I decide to attend to the lower half of her body and sit closer to the spread female legs. I place a hand on her left knee and lean towards the foot, with the other hand playing with her toes, with nails covered in silver polish. I kiss the inner surface of the foot, then with my lips, bypassing the rope on the ankle, move up along the shin to the knee and further along the inner surface of the thigh. I stop a few centimeters from the panties, in the fold between the thigh and crotch. Eva had been silently sniffling all this time, breathing unevenly and intermittently.

Then I notice that a wet spot has spread on her panties in the crotch and I smell a strange, slightly astringent smell of urine mixed with an unfamiliar, rather pleasant one. I touch this spot with my finger and feel the woman's body tense. At the same time, she jerked her hands, clanking the handcuffs. I press my finger a little harder and simultaneously move it upward, towards the pubis. Eva shuddered and cried out, but the cry immediately turned into a drawn-out moan. "Ayaaaoooh." I gently massage this place through the thin fabric. Eva moaned louder. "Nnoo, noo, dooon't, noo. Aah. Auu. Ooohh." The muscles in her legs tensed, she tries to move her thighs, but the ropes don't allow it. I ease the pressure slightly, and then Eva's pelvis followed my fingers, as if she didn't want me to stop. "Aaa, you like that," I remarked.

— No, noo, I, I don't want to! You don't want this, but it feels good, right? Well then, let's play." "No, stoop!" exclaimed Eva, instantly reacting to the pressure of my finger on her clitoris, and I realize that's exactly what I'm fiddling with. Carefully, with the scissors, I cut both thin side straps of the panties and easily pull them out from under her. I had a thought to stuff them in her mouth like a gag, as I'd seen in a movie, but I decide that listening to her moans is an additional pleasure and throw them on the floor. Her crotch appeared before me. Eva apparently trims her pubic hair, but it had grown back a bit, covering the pubis and labia majora with short, prickly stubble. The small pink lips resemble the petals of a pink marshmallow rose, and they also glisten with escaping moisture and are slightly parted, revealing the darkening depth of the slit.

With curiosity, I carefully spread the thin, moist flesh with my index finger. "Uuymf," Eva moaned from this, and I couldn't resist bending down and licking this coveted, trembling womb. For the first time, I feel the unique salty taste of a well-kept pussy, while sensing the aroma

of a woman who has flowed, ready to accept, to contain my entire trembling, excited cock. At the top, where the labia minora meet, I see a small, moist red pip of a clitoris. I wet my index finger with saliva and begin to gently and carefully tease the clitoris, while two fingers of my other hand insert into the vagina and move them back and forth. I feel moist, hot folds inside. "Mmaamochka, aaahhh, uuooh," Eva moans, writhing her whole body. She convulsively tries to move her knees, her spread legs, as much as the ropes allow. She comically shuffles her bare heels on the sheet, gathering folds.

Mucous fluid wets my fingers and oozes onto the sheet under her crotch.