Doctor Overload

Ted shows up nervous, asking his doctor how two people actually go about anal. Dr. Daphne hears the jargon he’s parroting from porn, rolls her eyes, and pages the rest of the clinic—Lolly, Adira, Charlie, Vivianne—all specialists. Door clicks shut. Coats hit the floor. Five bare asses line up along the exam table, each one slick and offered like a homework assignment. Ted stands there, cock out, until Daphne barks the first order: lube, finger, breathe. He slides into her first, knuckles white on her hips, and the other four narrate like it’s rounds—pressure, angle, when to pause. When he switches to Lolly she clenches on purpose, counts out the stretch, then laughs when his knees buckle. They keep rotating him, one doctor after another, every pull-out punctuated with “more lube,” “slower,” “that’s the spot.” By the time he’s buried in Vivianne’s ass, the clinical talk has slipped into pure filth; all five pairs of cheeks are glossy, stretched, and red from use. Ted’s balls slap heavy against each doctor in turn until Daphne decides he’s learned the lesson—then they let him finish deep, filling the last one with everything he’s got while the rest watch and rate his “technique.”