Deflowered by My Futa Doctor - Veronica Sloan - ebook
Opis

DESCRIPTIONHarper may be a virgin, but it's not by choice. After 21 years, she's too nervous and too tight to experience sex. Thankfully, Dr. Evelyn Avery knows just how to loosen the girl up. Her extra anatomy makes her the perfect size to break in a sweet young virgin. Can Harper say no to this seductive futanari? She's never been attracted to a woman before, but Dr. Avery makes her pulse race!EXCERPTThe woman must have been standing outside the door to reach her so quickly, or else she just appeared out of thin air. From the enigmatic smile on her rescuer's ruby lips, Harper's not ruling out the latter. The woman's skin is remarkably clear, freshly exfoliated and with very little makeup; her nose is small and turned up with the most delicate and commanding twist. Harper can't tell how much of her eyebrows are real, but they are dark and bold and pointed at the ends. Clear, rimless glasses frame the most striking feature in her oval face: Cinnamon eyes, so bright they sparkle. In the morning's light they appear faintly red, a match for her full, smiling lips."You okay now, honey?" she asks. Her voice matches her smile. Low and smooth, it eases round Harper's ears with an effortless friendliness. It reattaches her feet to the ground and gently nudges the last of her dizzy anxiety away."I'm fine, really," says Harper. "I just...I got so nervous in there, and..." Words fail her again, but the woman's firm hands give her a reassuring squeeze. Swallowing, the muscles in her throat relax and she lets out a sigh. "I've never done this before," she finishes lamely.The woman's smile downshifts from its enigmatic brilliance to a softer, compassionate grin. "What, you're not thrilled at the prospect of some stranger poking around in your hoo-ha?"Harper indulges her with a miserable chuckles. "I know, right? Everyone else must be lining up for the fun."The woman shakes her head in affectionate commiseration. Her hair is dark, a milk chocolate mix between chestnut and black and done up in a Dutch braid. Her hands are still holding Harper up...but she's surprised to realize she likes that. The firmness of the woman's fingers, the warmth in her palms, helps to balance out the feeling of weightless frailty that's floating in Harper's gut. And this older woman (younger than any of the clinic's staff, Harper thinks, but she must be in her late twenties or early thirties) seems content to hold her until Harper tells her not to. It's at this point that Harper realizes the woman is wearing a white coat with a bronze name tag over her breast. It reads DR. EVELYN AVERY."You - you work here!" Harper squeaks.The woman, Dr. Avery, quickly glances over each shoulder and in a breathless whisper warns Harper, "Don't say it so loud! If they find me out here they're going to make me go back inside and attend to my patients!" She grins at Harper until the girl is giggling in her grasp.There is a confidence in everything the woman does, Harper realizes. It makes her feel like she's been dropped onto a stage with an actress that will never let her fail. Even in a wet parking lot at ten in the morning, gray clouds just barely rolling back from a cold sun, she feels surrounded by a friendly crowd.In reality, it's just Dr. Avery's smile that makes her feel warm and protected."I'm going to let you go now," she says. "Can you promise me to keep your feet?"

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Deflowered by My Futa Doctor

A Virgin Futanari Encounter

by

Veronica Sloan

* * *

© Copyright 2016, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved

NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content, including graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse. It is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by lisabook.

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Chapter 1

She's trembling so hard that she cannot hold the pen. It writhes in her fingers like it's alive, scratching the virgin paper, twisting her name into a mocking scrawl.

"This is ridiculous," she thinks to herself. "There's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with this. Why can't I make my fingers move?"

Her fingers are moving, but not in the way she wants. After an agonizing minute, HARPER GREEN is written atop the patient form with all the artistry of a clumsy kindergartner.

With a huff, Harper sets the clipboard aside. The receptionist behind the front desk, a heavyset woman in her late forties, smiles sweetly at the girl and asks if she's done.

"N-no," Harper stammers. "I'm sorry, I..." Words fail her. She swallows, tries again, and chokes. With burning cheeks and hotter eyes, she grabs her purse and scurries out of the office. She ignores the sweet cry of concern from the receptionist and the curious glances of the other girls in the waiting room. She ignores, too, the hammering of her heart. Harper's pretty sure it's impossible to have a heart attack at 21, but if not she'd prefer to die outside.

When she bursts out the front doors of the clinic her face is wet and her breath tears out her throat in ragged gasps. Stomach clenches, the parking lot swirls around her. She feels like she's gone one too many times round the Tilt-A-Whirl. If only she knew which direction the ground was, then she could throw up safely. She reels, scared and alone - and then more scared to realize she is alone-

Until she feels the hand at her back.

It touches her, suddenly but softly, bracing her against her impending fall. Another hand grasps her gingerly by her forearm. Harper snaps to, her vertigo slightly dispelled, and stares up into a fiercely beautiful face.

The woman must have been standing outside the door to reach her so quickly, or else she just appeared out of thin air. From the enigmatic smile on her rescuer's ruby lips, Harper's not ruling out the latter. The woman's skin is remarkably clear, freshly exfoliated and with very little makeup; her nose is small and turned up with the most delicate and commanding twist. Harper can't tell how much of her eyebrows are real, but they are dark and bold and pointed at the ends. Clear, rimless glasses frame the most striking feature in her oval face: Cinnamon eyes, so bright they sparkle. In the morning's light they appear faintly red, a match for her full, smiling lips.

"You okay now, honey?" she asks. Her voice matches her smile. Low and smooth, it eases round Harper's ears with an effortless friendliness. It reattaches her feet to the ground and gently nudges the last of her dizzy anxiety away.

"I'm fine, really," says Harper. "I just...I got so nervous in there, and..." Words fail her again, but the woman's firm hands give her a reassuring squeeze. Swallowing, the muscles in her throat relax and she lets out a sigh. "I've never done this before," she finishes lamely.

The woman's smile downshifts from its enigmatic brilliance to a softer, compassionate grin. "What, you're not thrilled at the prospect of some stranger poking around in your hoo-ha?"

Harper indulges her with a miserable chuckles. "I know, right? Everyone else must be lining up for the fun."

The woman shakes her head in affectionate commiseration. Her hair is dark, a milk chocolate mix between chestnut and black and done up in a Dutch braid. Her hands are still holding Harper up...but she's surprised to realize she likes that. The firmness of the woman's fingers, the warmth in her palms, helps to balance out the feeling of weightless frailty that's floating in Harper's gut. And this older woman (younger than any of the clinic's staff, Harper thinks, but she must be in her late twenties or early thirties) seems content to hold her until Harper tells her not to. It's at this point that Harper realizes the woman is wearing a white coat with a bronze name tag over her breast. It reads DR. EVELYN AVERY.

"You - you work here!" Harper squeaks.

The woman, Dr. Avery, quickly glances over each shoulder and in a breathless whisper warns Harper, "Don't say it so loud! If they find me out here they're going to make me go back inside and attend to my patients!" She grins at Harper until the girl is giggling in her grasp.

There is a confidence in everything the woman does, Harper realizes. It makes her feel like she's been dropped onto a stage with an actress that will never let her fail. Even in a wet parking lot at ten in the morning, gray clouds just barely rolling back from a cold sun, she feels surrounded by a friendly crowd.

In reality, it's just Dr. Avery's smile that makes her feel warm and protected.

"I'm going to let you go now," she says. "Can you promise me to keep your feet?"

Now Harper's not sure. There is a lightness in her stomach unlike the sick ache she felt before. She tells herself it's the rush of emotions she's experienced in so short a time, fear to panic to something like tranquility...but she wonders if it's something about the doctor herself. The woman is beautiful and a little bit silly, but Harper's never felt attraction to a woman before (or at least, never this strongly).