Probe

The waiting room smelled of antiseptic and old magazines. He sat there, legs crossed, flipping through a worn issue of some health journal. His name was Quinn. Mid-thirties, fit enough, but the nagging ache in his lower back had brought him here. The clinic was small, tucked into a quiet strip on the edge of town. No crowds. Just the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional click of heels on tile.
"Quinn?" The voice came from the doorway. Soft, but firm. He looked up. She was tall, dark hair pulled back in a neat bun. White coat over a crisp blouse. Dr. Irina, the sign on the door would say later. She smiled, professional. "Right this way."

He followed her down the hall. The exam room was bright, white walls, a padded table covered in paper. She closed the door. "What brings you in today?"
"Back pain," he said. "Comes and goes. Mostly when I sit too long."

She nodded, jotting notes on a tablet. "Any other symptoms? Radiating pain? Numbness?"
He shook his head. She set the tablet down. "Let's start with a physical. Shirt off, please."

He peeled off his shirt. The air was cool against his skin. She stepped closer, hands gloved, pressing fingers along his spine. Firm touch. Methodical. "Breathe in." Her voice close to his ear. He did. She moved lower, palms flat against his lower back. "Any tenderness here?"
"A little." He shifted. Her hands lingered. Not long, but enough to notice the warmth through the gloves.

"Alright. Lie back." He did. She checked his reflexes, knee jerk, all routine. Then she paused. "For the back, we might need to check range of motion. Pants down to your hips?"
He hesitated, then nodded. Unbuckled his belt. She watched, eyes steady. As he slid them down, her gaze flicked lower. Brief. Professional. "Good. Now, bend your knees."

The exam stretched. Her hands on his thighs, testing muscles. "Flex here." Her fingers dug in, close to his groin. He felt a stir, unwanted but there. She didn't pull away. Instead, she pressed deeper. "Tension in the hips can cause back issues. We should address that."
Before he could respond, the door opened. Another woman entered. Shorter, curves under her scrubs. Auburn hair in a ponytail. "Dr. Irina? Need assistance?"

"This is Quinn," Irina said. "Helping with the exam. Lie still."
The new one-Callie, her badge read-smiled. "Hi." She moved to the side, gloved hands joining in. One on his abdomen, the other higher. "Breathe steady."

It wasn't routine anymore. Callie's touch slid lower, fingers brushing the edge of his underwear. "We need to check for any referred pain," she murmured. Irina nodded, her own hand now on his inner thigh. "Yes. Thoroughly."
Quinn's cock twitched. He tried to ignore it, but they didn't. Irina's fingers traced upward, deliberate. "Relax. This is part of it." She hooked her thumb under the waistband. Pulled down. Exposed him. Semi-hard already.

Callie gasped softly. Fake surprise? "Oh. That's... responsive." Her hand wrapped around his shaft. Slow stroke. "We should examine this. Could be connected."
Irina leaned in. Breath warm on his skin. "Indeed." She squeezed his balls gently, rolling them. "Any discomfort here?"

"Fuck," he muttered. Hard now. Fully. They worked him together. Callie's grip firm, pumping slow. Irina's fingers teasing the head, smearing the bead of pre-cum. "Looks healthy," Irina said. Voice low. "But let's test endurance."
She climbed onto the table, straddling his chest. Skirt hiked up. No panties. Her pussy bare, lips glistening. "Open your mouth." He did. She lowered herself, grinding against his tongue. Wet. Salty. "Lick. Properly."

Callie kept stroking, faster now. "Suck her clit," she instructed. "Make her wetter." Quinn obeyed. Tongue delving into Irina's folds. She moaned, hips rocking. "Yes. Deeper."
The room filled with sounds. Wet slurps. Irina's breaths turning to gasps. Callie's hand slick with his pre-cum. "He's throbbing," she said. "Want to feel him inside?"

Irina lifted off, face flushed. "Not yet. Bend over the table, Quinn."
He did, pants around ankles. Irina behind him. Gloves off now. She spread his cheeks. "Prostate check." A finger, lubed, pushed in. Slow. He groaned. She crooked it, hitting the spot. "Good response."

Callie knelt in front. Mouth on his cock. Swallowing deep. Gagging softly. Irina fingered him harder, syncing with Callie's sucks. "Come for us," Irina whispered. "Show us."
He did. Bucking. Spurting into Callie's throat. She swallowed, licking him clean. Irina withdrew, kissing his neck. "That's one part. We'll schedule follow-ups."

He dressed, shaky. They smiled. Professional again. "See the receptionist for the next appointment."
---
Two days later, the ache returned. Or maybe it was just the memory. He booked another slot. Same clinic. The waiting room felt different now. Charged.

Dr. Irina called him in. Alone this time. "Back so soon?" She locked the door. "Persistent issue."
"Yeah." He sat on the table. She didn't ask for the shirt. Just stepped between his legs. Hands on his shoulders. "We need to explore more."

Her blouse unbuttoned. Bra black lace. She guided his hands to her breasts. "Feel them. For circulation."
He squeezed. Nipples hard under his thumbs. She moaned. "Harder." He pinched. She arched. "Good patient."

Pants off again. She stroked him through his boxers. "Erection test." Pulled them down. Mounted him right there. No preamble. Her pussy hot, tight. Sinking down. "Fuck me while I examine you."
He thrust up. She rode slow at first. Controlled. "Deeper." Her walls clenched. Wet sounds. "Tell me how it feels."

"Tight. So fucking wet." He grabbed her ass. Pulled her down harder.
She gasped. "Yes. Pound it." Faster now. Table creaking. Her tits bouncing. He sucked a nipple. Biting. She cried out. "Don't stop."

They fucked like that for minutes. Sweat. Grunts. Her nails in his shoulders. "Come inside me." He did. Filling her. She ground down, milking every drop. Then off, cum dripping down her thigh. "Positive results. Come back tomorrow."
---
Next visit, Callie was waiting. In the exam room. Door shut. "Dr. Irina's out. But I can handle the check."

She was in a short skirt. No scrubs. "Strip." He did. She pushed him onto the table. Strapped his wrists with velcro cuffs from a drawer. "For safety."
Her mouth on him immediately. Deep throat. Sloppy. Gagging. "Mmm. Big cock." She sucked hard, tongue swirling. Then climbed up. Skirt flipped. Panties aside. "Fuck my pussy."

She impaled herself. Bouncing. Fast. "Harder. Slam it." He thrust up, wrists straining. Her tits out now, slapping his face. He latched on. Sucking. "Bite me."
She came quick. Shuddering. Soaking him. "Now my ass." She turned, backing onto him. Tight ring. Lubed from her pussy. "Push in."

He did. Inch by inch. She moaned loud. "Fuck my shithole. Stretch it." He pounded. Balls slapping. She fingered her clit. "Deeper, you fucker."
Another orgasm. Hers. Clenching around him. He pulled out, came on her ass. She rubbed it in. "Good session. See you soon."

---
The pattern built. Daily visits now. The clinic his second home. Irina and Callie tag-teaming. Sometimes separate, sometimes together.

One afternoon, Irina alone. She had him on the table, legs in stirrups. Like a gyno chair, but for him. "Full internal." She lubed a toy. Long, curved. Inserted it slow. Vibrating. "Feel that?"
"Yes." Prostate buzzing. Cock leaking.

She stripped. Naked. Curvy. Shaved pussy. Straddled his face reverse. "Eat me while it works." He licked. Devoured. Her ass cheeks on his chest. She ground back. "Tongue my asshole too."
He did. Rimjob. She quivered. Then shifted. Took his cock in her mouth. 69. Toy still humming inside him. Her throat tight. Gagging on him. "Swallow it all."

He came first. She drank him down. Then pulled the toy, replaced with her fingers. Milking more. "Sensitive. Good."
---
Evening slot. Callie brought a friend. Another aide? No name. Just "her." Petite, blonde. Silent at first.

"Group exam," Callie said. They both stripped him. Hands everywhere. Blonde on his cock, sucking. Callie on his balls, licking. "Share it."
Blonde deepthroated. Gagging. Callie kissed him. Tongue invasive. "Fuck our mouths."

He did. Alternating. Thrusting into wet heat. Blonde's eyes watered. "Cum on our faces."
He painted them. Thick ropes. They licked each other clean. Kissing. Swapping his load. "Tasty patient."

Then more. Blonde bent over the sink. He fucked her from behind. Pussy dripping. "Harder." Callie watched, fingering herself. "Pound her cunt."
He did. Slamming. She screamed. Came. He pulled out, into Callie's mouth. She sucked the mix.

---
Deeper into the week. Irina introduced tools. Speculum for him? No. Just restraints. She tied him spread-eagle. "Endurance test."

Her pussy over his cock. Teasing. Dipping the head in. Out. "Beg."
"Please. Fuck me."

She sank down. All the way. Rode slow. Torturous. "Not yet." Built pace. Her clit grinding his base. "Feel my walls?"
"Yes. So tight."

She came. Flooding him. Then faster. "Your turn." He exploded inside. She kept riding. Overstimulated. "More."
He gave it. Another load. Weaker. She milked it. "Progress."

---
Callie solo again. In the supply room this time. Door barely shut. "Quick check."

She dropped to knees. Unzipped him. Sucked frantic. "Need your cum."
He face-fucked her. Hands in hair. "Take it, slut."

She did. Swallowing. Then bent over a box. "Ass now."
He lubed with spit. Pushed in. Dry almost. She yelped. "Fuck my tight ass."

Rough. Fast. Boxes rattling. She came from it. Anal only. He filled her bowels. Pulled out. Watched it leak. "Good boy."
---
The peak came on Friday. Both there. And the blonde. Three women. Exam room transformed. Lights dimmed. Candles? No, just low fluorescents.

"Final evaluation," Irina said. They stripped. All naked. Bodies varied. Irina tall, firm. Callie curvy, soft. Blonde petite, perky.
Quinn on the table. They took turns. Irina first. Riding his face. Callie his cock. Blonde his hands-fingering her.

"Wet pussies," Irina commanded. "Make us cum."
He did. Tongues, fingers, cock. Irina gushed on his mouth. Callie clenched around his shaft. Blonde squirted on his palm.

Then rotations. Blonde on his dick. Tight. "Fuck me raw." He thrust. Irina sat on his face again. Callie sucked his balls.
Moans everywhere. "Deeper." "Harder." "Fill us."
He came in the blonde. Pulled out. Irina took over. Cowgirl. Bouncing. "My turn." Callie and blonde kissed him. Tongues.

Another orgasm. His. Hers. Cum mixing.
Callie last. Reverse cowgirl. Ass up. He watched it jiggle. "Pound my shithole."

He did. Anal. Brutal. She screamed. Came. He unloaded deep.
They collapsed. Bodies tangled. Sweat-slick. "Treatment successful," Irina whispered. "Ongoing care required."

He left spent. The ache gone. But the hunger? Just beginning.
---
Weeks blurred. Visits became rituals. Irina's office now. Desk cleared. Her bent over it. Skirt up. "Fuck your doctor."

He did. Desk shaking. Papers flying. "Yes. Ruin my pussy."
Callie in the break room. On the counter. Legs spread. "Eat me out." He did. Till she squirted. Then fucked her standing. Against the fridge.

Blonde in the bathroom. Stall door locked. Her on knees. "Throat fuck me." He did. Cumming down her gullet.
Group again. Irina's car in the lot. After hours. Backseat. Them piled on. Pussies, mouths, asses. Rotating. "Use us all."

He did. Cumming three times. Them writhing. Screaming.
The clinic pulsed with it. Secret. Intense. No end.

One night, alone with Irina. Post-exam. Her on the table. Legs wide. "Your turn to probe."
He ate her slow. Tongue deep. Fingers in ass. She bucked. "Make me cum."

He did. Multiple. Then fucked her. Missionary. Eyes locked. "You're mine now."
"Yes," she gasped. "All yours."
Callie joined later. DP. Him in pussy, toy in ass. "Fill me double."

Blonde watched. Masturbating. Then joined. Sucking Irina's tits.
Orgy. Fluids everywhere. Cums mixing. Moans echoing.

Quinn lost count. The pain? Forgotten. Only pleasure. Endless.
Irina's voice, final. "Keep coming back."
He would.

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