Backdoor Doctor

Casey sprawls on her sheets, slathering lube all over her clit, talking out loud about how nasty anal always feels and how desperate she is for it. She's panting, staring at the fat dildo beside her, deciding it's going straight up her ass tonight. She swings a leg over, lines the head up, pushes, slips, pushes harder. Wrong angle, zero give. She shifts to doggy, twists sideways, even tries it standing with one foot on the chair. Nothing slides in right, just this dull, wrong pressure. One brutal shove and a white-hot sting rips through her. She yelps, drops the toy, and grabs her phone to book the first slot she sees with Dr. Dana DeArmond. Dana walks in calm, scans the intake form, asks what hurts. Casey mumbles about her asshole, cheeks burning. Dana smirks, says she's caught folks with worse. When Casey finally spits out the story Dana's eyebrows jump. She orders Casey to strip, hop on the table face-down, ass in the air. Gloves snap on, then a slick finger circles the sore rim, slow and clinical. "Feel that?" Casey breathes no, so the finger sinks in to the knuckle. Heat floods Casey's belly. Dana works it deeper, adds a second, and the clinical tone cracks just enough for Casey to hear the smile. Dana's free hand drifts between Casey's spread lips, two fingers gliding over soaked folds while she explains why "routine stimulation" keeps everything healthy. Casey's thighs start shaking. She blurts she's gonna come and Dana just says, "That's medically encouraged," and keeps both hands moving until Casey shudders hard around the doctor's fingers.