Erotic Stories: Check-Up or Hook-Up with Dr. Gabrielle?

This Erotic story is written with XXX Story AI Writer

The waiting room was stuffy, my palms clammy against the glossy magazine I wasn’t reading. Dr. Gabrielle’s office always did this to me—not the anxiety, but the anticipation.

I’d been coming here for years, not because I was sick, but because she was… well, let’s just say her bedside manner was unparalleled. Today, though, I had a real reason. Or so I told myself.

“Mr. Carter?” Her voice, smooth as silk, snapped me out of my thoughts. I stood, smoothing my shirt, and followed her into the exam room.

She was wearing her usual white lab coat, but today, as she turned to close the door, I caught a glimpse of something else—a soft pink lace bra strap peeking out from beneath her sleeve. My heart stuttered.

“So, what brings you in today?” she asked, her pen hovering over my chart.

Her eyes were warm, professional, but there was something else there—a spark I’d never noticed before. Or maybe I’d just never allowed myself to notice.

I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous. “Well, Dr. Gabrielle, it’s a bit… embarrassing.” I paused, watching her face for any sign of judgment. There was none, just curiosity. “I’ve been having some… issues.”

“Issues?” She leaned forward slightly, her pen tapping against the chart.

I took a deep breath. “With masturbation.” The words hung in the air, heavy and awkward.

Her eyebrows shot up, just a fraction, but it was enough. “I see. Can you elaborate?”

I felt my face flush. “I mean, I’ve been doing it a lot. Like, a lot. And I’m worried it’s becoming a problem.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “It’s not uncommon. How often are we talking?”

“Multiple times a day,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“And this is interfering with your daily life?”

I hesitated. “Well, not exactly. But I feel like I’m… losing control.”

She set the chart down, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. “Have you tried… techniques to slow down?”

I shook my head. “I’ve tried everything. Cold showers, exercise, even meditation. Nothing works.”

She studied me for a moment, her eyes flicking down to my hands, which were now fidgeting in my lap. “Maybe we should try something different,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Something more… hands-on.”

My pulse quickened. “What do you mean?”

She stood, stepping closer, her lab coat falling open just enough to reveal the curve of her breast, the pink lace a stark contrast against her pale skin. “Sometimes, the best way to address a problem is to face it head-on.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I’m not sure I follow.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch electric. “Let me guide you. It’s the only way to understand what’s happening.”

My breath hitched as she moved closer, her scent—floral and faintly clinical—filling my senses. “But… here?”

She smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Where better? Trust me, Mr. Carter. This is a safe space.”

My heart was pounding now, my mind racing with possibilities. “What do I need to do?”

She slid her hand down my arm, her fingers grazing my wrist. “First, relax. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.”

I did as she instructed, my chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

“Good,” she murmured, her voice close to my ear. “Now, tell me… when was the last time you touched yourself?”

Her words sent a jolt through me, and I felt myself harden beneath my pants. “Earlier today,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And how did it feel?”

I hesitated, the memory flooding back—the urgency, the release, the fleeting satisfaction. “Empty,” I confessed.

She hummed softly, her breath tickling my neck. “Interesting. And what do you think you need to feel… fulfilled?”

I opened my eyes, meeting hers, and for a moment, the air between us crackled with unspoken desire. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Maybe… maybe I need someone to show me.”

Her smile was slow, dangerous. “Then let me help you, Mr. Carter. Let me show you how to take control.”

Her hand moved to my thigh, her touch firm but gentle, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. “But… what if I can’t stop?”

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing my ear. “That’s the point, isn’t it? To learn when to stop. And when to let go.”

My hands were shaking now, my desire coiling tight in my core. “And if I can’t?”

Her fingers tightened on my thigh, her voice a whisper. “Then we’ll just have to keep going until you do.”

The room seemed to spin, the boundaries between doctor and patient blurring into something raw and primal. I wanted her—needed her—to guide me, to push me, to show me what I’d been missing.

“Ready?” she asked, her eyes locking onto mine.

I nodded, my voice failing me.

She stepped back, her hand sliding up my chest, unbuttoning my shirt with deliberate slowness. “Good. Because this is just the beginning.”

And as her fingers brushed my skin, I knew there was no turning back.

Dr. Gabrielle’s fingers lingered on the button of my shirt, her touch sending shivers down my spine. She stepped back, her eyes scanning me with a mix of clinical curiosity and something else—something hotter, more primal. “Do you use lotion when you… take care of yourself?” she asked, her voice smooth and deliberate, like she was unraveling me piece by piece.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Sometimes,” I managed, my voice cracking slightly.

She tilted her head, her pink lips curving into a knowing smile. “Sometimes isn’t enough, Mr. Carter. The right lotion can make all the difference. It’s about control, sensation… pleasure.” She paused, her gaze dropping to my crotch, where my growing arousal was becoming impossible to hide. “Let me show you.”

Her hand moved to the hem of her lab coat, slowly sliding it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor, revealing her form-fitting pink lace bra and matching panties. My breath hitched. She wasn’t just a doctor—she was a fantasy come to life.

“Take your pants off,” she instructed, her tone firm but laced with promise. “We’re going to do this right.”

My fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans, my heart pounding in my ears. As I slid them down, her eyes followed every movement, her gaze intense and hungry. I stepped out of them, leaving me in just my boxers, the outline of my erection straining against the fabric.

She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to trace the bulge. “Impressive,” she murmured, her thumb brushing the head through the thin material. “But we’re not rushing this. Not today.”

She turned and walked to the cabinet, her hips swaying gently. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way the lace hugged her curves, the way her confidence filled the room. She opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of lotion, the kind with a faint, intoxicating scent. “This,” she said, holding it up, “is going to change everything for you.”

She returned to me, her movements deliberate, calculated to keep me on edge. “Lie down on the table,” she instructed, her voice low and commanding.

I did as she said, my heart racing as I stretched out on the cold exam table. She stood between my legs, her presence overwhelming. “Now, watch closely,” she said, her fingers twisting open the lotion bottle. A dollop of creamy liquid landed in her palm, and she rubbed her hands together, the scent filling the air.

“See how I’m warming it up?” she asked, her voice a whisper. “It’s all about preparation. You can’t just dive in—you have to build the tension.”

She leaned over me, her breasts inches from my face, the lace teasing my vision. My breath quickened as she placed her hands on my chest, her touch light but purposeful. “Relax,” she murmured, her fingers tracing slow circles on my skin. “Let me take control.”

Her hands moved lower, skimming my abdomen, her touch sending sparks through my nerves. I felt my muscles tense in anticipation as her fingers hovered over my boxers. “Ready?” she asked, her eyes locking onto mine.

I nodded, unable to speak.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid my boxers down, exposing me fully. Her gaze dropped to my erection, her lips parting slightly. “Beautiful,” she breathed, her hand reaching out to stroke me gently, just once, from base to tip.

I gasped, my hips twitching involuntarily.

“Shh,” she chided softly, her free hand pressing lightly on my chest to keep me still. “This is about control, remember?”

She squeezed more lotion into her palm, the coolness of it sending a shiver through me as she spread it over my shaft. Her touch was firm but gentle, her fingers moving slowly, deliberately, coating me in the slick warmth. “Feel that?” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “This is how you build it up. Slow. Steady. Let the sensation take over.”

Her hand wrapped around me, her grip perfect, her thumb brushing the head as she began to stroke. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice a hypnotic lull. “Let it build. Don’t rush. I’ve got you.”

Her movements were rhythmic, her touch expert, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through me. I closed my eyes, my breath coming in ragged gasps, but she wasn’t done teasing.

“Open your eyes,” she commanded, her voice firm. “Watch me. Watch how I’m taking care of you.”

I obeyed, my gaze locking onto her hand as it moved up and down, the lotion glistening in the light. Her other hand rested on my hip, keeping me grounded, her touch both soothing and electrifying.

“You’re doing so well,” she purred, her pace slowing, then speeding up, then slowing again. “You’re learning to let go, to trust me. That’s the key. Let me guide you.”

Her words were a spell, her touch a drug. I felt the tension coil tighter, my body aching for release, but she wasn’t finished with me yet.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her lips brushing my neck. “Not until I say so.”

Her hand tightened, her strokes becoming firmer, more insistent. “Feel how close you are? Feel how much better it is when someone else is in control?”

I groaned, my hips bucking slightly, but her hand on my chest kept me still. “That’s it,” she said, her voice thick with desire. “Let me feel you tremble. Let me feel you surrender.”

Her thumb pressed into the head, her strokes deepening, and I knew I was on the edge. “Dr. Gabrielle—” I choked out, my voice desperate.

“Not yet,” she repeated, her voice a command. “Not until I tell you.”

Her hand moved faster now, her grip relentless, the lotion enhancing every sensation. I was drowning in it, her touch, her voice, her control.

“Now,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “Now you can come.”

Her words were the final push, and I exploded, my body arching off the table as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. She didn’t stop, her hand milking me through it all, her murmurs of encouragement guiding me until the last shudder faded.

As I lay there, breathless and spent, she leaned over me, her lips brushing my forehead. “See?” she whispered, her voice soft and triumphant. “That’s how it’s done.”

As my body trembled from the aftermath of my release, Dr. Gabrielle leaned over me, her pink lace bra inches from my face, her breath warm and heavy. "You did well, Mr. Carter," she purred, her fingers tracing the sweat on my chest. "But we're not done yet."

My heart, already racing, kicked into overdrive. "W-what do you mean?" I stammered, my voice thick with desire.

She straightened up, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I think it's time for a little... extra credit." She turned, giving me a full view of her curvaceous figure, the lace hugging her every curve. "You see, I don't usually do this, but you've been such a good patient."

I watched, transfixed, as she reached behind her, her fingers teasing the strap of her panties. With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid them down, revealing her perfectly rounded ass, the cheeks plump and inviting. My mouth went dry.

"No condoms, though," she said, her voice dripping with intent. "But I have an idea."

Before I could process her words, she turned back to me, her eyes locked onto mine. "You've been so hard, for so long. I think it's time to try something... different."

She knelt on the exam table, her knees bracketing my hips, her ass hovering just above my still-sensitive cock. My breath caught in my throat as she reached down, grasping my shaft, guiding it to her tight, puckered entrance.

"Dr. Gabrielle, I—" I started, but she cut me off with a finger to my lips.

"Shh," she whispered, her eyes burning with desire. "Trust me."

With a slow, steady pressure, she lowered herself onto me, her asshole stretching to accommodate my thickness. I groaned, my head spinning as she impaled herself, taking me inch by inch. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever experienced – tight, hot, and deliciously taboo.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, my hands grasping her hips, pulling her down onto me.

She began to ride me, her movements slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving mine. "You like this, don't you?" she whispered, her voice husky with lust. "My tight little asshole, gripping your cock like a glove."

I could only nod, my mouth watering as she bounced on my lap, her tits jiggling with each thrust. The sensation built, a coil of pleasure tightening in my gut. I knew I couldn't last much longer.

"Cum for me, Mr. Carter," she demanded, her voice a command. "Fill me up with your hot, sticky cum."

Her words sent me over the edge. With a guttural cry, I erupted, my cock pulsing as I filled her ass with my seed. She moaned, her head thrown back, her body shuddering as she rode out my orgasm.

As my vision blurred, I felt her collapse onto me, her sweat-slicked body pressing against mine. "That," she breathed, "was a prescription worth writing."

I laughed weakly, my heart still pounding, my body spent. Dr. Gabrielle had just given me the most unforgettable check-up of my life – and I had a feeling the side effects would linger for a long, long time.

As she disentangled herself from me, her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Don't forget to schedule your next appointment, Mr. Carter. I'd hate for you to... relapse."

With a wink, she slipped her lab coat back on, her pink lace a secret beneath the pristine white fabric. I watched, dazed, as she sauntered out of the room, leaving me to bask in the afterglow of our forbidden encounter.

And as I lay there, my mind racing with the memory of her tight ass gripping my cock, I knew one thing for certain: I'd be back for my follow-up, sooner rather than later.

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