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This hot bundle contains three steamy stories:1. Yes, Doctor!Curvy, shy Claire goes to the doctor for an embarrassing problem: she can’t stop thinking about sex! Though she knows her problem is unusual, the last thing she expects is for the gorgeous Dr. Kent to take her treatment into his own hands – and mouth. Not even this modesty will keep her from wanting Dr. Kent in every hole!2. Obeying My Doctor's OrdersBBW Claire is still curvy and shy, but this time, she’s even more desperate to be taken by the gorgeous Dr. Kent. Claire goes back to his office, hoping for him to fill all of her holes and fulfill her fantasies. But in addition to that, Dr. Kent has more than a few BDSM surprises for her that make sure she’s bound to have a good time.3. Punished By My DoctorHot, alpha male Dr. Kent has more BDSM surprises up his sleeve when he shows up to take shy, BBW Claire out for dinner. Though Claire ends up eating plenty, it has nothing to do with dinner! Will Dr. Kent’s house call be too much punishment for all of Claire’s holes, or will this be just the treatment she’s been looking for?
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(BBW Medical BDSM Erotica Bundle)
By Ella Louise
~~ All characters in this book are 18 or over. ~~
“Claire?” the nurse calls from the doorway. “Sorry about the wait.”
I stuff my book - the latest self-help tutorial that isn’t really helpful at all – into my purse and stand up at the sound of my name. Self-consciously, I tug the hem of my skirt down farther, trying to stretch the fabric to cover more of myself. The skirt comes to my knees, but I suddenly want to hide behind as much fabric as possible.
Relax, I tell myself, forcing a deep breath. No one but the doctor has to know why you’re here.
I step through the threshold that separates the waiting room from the corridor of examination rooms. The nurse, a tired-looking woman in her forties, leads me to exam room four.
I’m relieved that she doesn’t seem to want to take my weight. I’ve picked up a habit of nervous snacking, and have put on some pounds lately. I don’t want to see the numeric evidence staring me in the face on the scale. I’ve always been a big girl, but the closet full of suddenly-too-tight clothing at home is all the guilt I can handle right now.
“Have a seat,” she gestures to the paper-covered table without looking up from her clipboard.
I climb onto the table as gracefully as possible, but I still manage to tear a huge gash in the paper. The loud ripping noise sets my nerves even more on edge.
“Your chart says you’re experiencing sexual issues?” Her voice is dry and disinterested. I know she’s expecting the usual vaginal dryness or pain during intercourse. I can’t bring myself to admit that my reason for being here is quite different.
“Yes,” I answer without elaborating. I want to talk to the doctor about this, and I’d rather not explain it to more than one person.
Thankfully, she doesn’t press me for more.
“Go ahead and undress,” she instructs, reaching into a cabinet, “and put this gown on when you’re finished.”
“Can I leave my bra and underwear on under the gown?” I ask. I’m always so uncomfortable with the thought of being naked in front of strangers, even if the stranger is a doctor who must see naked bodies every day without thinking twice about it.
“I think Dr. Kent will want to do a full examination. You should take them off just in case.”
I wonder if the nurse’s voice could possibly sound any more bored and uninflected. It’s a sharp contrast to my nervous, racing heart and damp, sweating palms. She needs a vacation, I find myself thinking, rather ungraciously.
When the nurse leaves, I double-check to make sure the door is shut fully before taking my clothes off. Mindful of the fact that the door could open at any moment, I hurriedly cover myself with the gown that was provided before I take the time to neatly fold my clothes and place them on the counter next to my purse.
I’m disappointed to discover that the gown is made for a much smaller girl, and made of the same flimsy paper as the covering on the examination table. A jolt of anxiety ripples through me as I try in vain to make the gown cover all of my important areas at once, and realize that it’s just too small.
I twist myself into as modest a position as possible. I consider rummaging through the cabinet for a second gown to drape over the first, but there’s no time. There’s a brief warning knock on the door before it swings open.
You have got to be kidding me.
That’s the only thought my brain can manage when the doctor comes through the door. Calling him merely a “doctor” is inaccurate, because this man is an Adonis. A Greek god of chiseled manliness. I could cut myself on the edges of his defined muscles.
I cross my legs, remembering why I’m here.
The nurse’s pronouncement of “sexual issues” doesn’t even begin to cover it. For weeks now, I’ve been driven mad by thoughts of sex. Inescapable lust, desperate horniness, constant wetness and unfulfilled wanting… I just hope I’m not leaking juices onto the paper beneath me as I feast my eyes on the image of male perfection before me.
Of course. I’m seeing a doctor for my uncontrollable sexual urges, and he turns out to be drool-worthy. Of freaking course.
It does not help me relax when he extends a hand in my direction and I have to let go of the gown I’m trying to hold in place by one stretched corner. I do my best to keep my large breasts and tummy covered, but the gown slips anyway when I shake his hand. Hurriedly, I end the handshake and tug the gown back into place, hoping he didn’t see anything.
His eyes linger a moment too long on where my exposed flesh had been a moment ago, and I know I was too late to cover myself. I feel a deep flush already creeping across my face, making my ears hot.
Dr. Kent clears his throat.
“Ah- so what seems to be the problem?” His voice is cool and steady but – is it my imagination? – his eyes still seem to be taking me in.
My heart races, and I suddenly wish I had just told the nurse what I’m here for so it would be on the chart, and I wouldn’t have to explain myself out loud.
“Well…” I begin, nervously.
Oh, just say it. We’re both adults here. I’m sure he’s heard worse.
“I’m having some strange sexual feelings that I’m not used to.”
Dr. Kent swallows. I notice the slight movement of his throat beneath the stubble that must have grown since his shave this morning. His eyes meet mine in a show of professional interest, but the jolt that shoots through my body is anything but professional.
“Strange in what way?” he asks.
“Um. They’re… intense. Very intense. I can’t tell what might be wrong with me.” I hope I’m explaining myself well. My brain is hardly working, and I can’t tell if my mouth is keeping up. Most of my energy is directed at not ogling my new doctor. “I mean, I feel like I’m in overdrive.”
There. I’ve said it. The hard part is over. Now I just let him do his job, and then put my clothes back on and go home with some medication or something to diminish my overactive sex drive. No big deal.
Still, I hug myself tightly, feeling incredibly exposed under the tiny, flimsy paper gown.
“I see,” Dr. Kent says. His voice is darker now, and less cool. His eyes look darker to me too, but I’m almost certain I’m imagining it in my hyper-sexual mind. “Lie back on the table for me. I need to examine you.”
His words send more shocks through me, both of nervous shyness and undeniable excitement.
He wants to examine me…
He’s going to put his hands all over my body.
I’m so embarrassed, but so turned on. I’m embarrassed about my big, curvy body in comparison to his fit, tight one. I’m embarrassed about the awkward problem that I’m here at the doctor’s office to fix. I’m especially embarrassed by how wet I am at the thought of my doctor manhandling me here in a second.
I hope the smell of my juices doesn’t reach his nose as I lie back on the table. I’m still trying in vain to keep all of my important areas covered, but I can feel his gaze drag over the bare parts of my skin despite my efforts.
“I’m going to give you a thorough physical examination to make sure everything is working properly. If we can’t find the problem there, I’ll order some blood work and look for hormonal causes.”
I almost gasp out loud at his sudden touch, but then I realize it’s only the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope he’s sliding onto my left arm.
“Your blood pressure and pulse are elevated,” Dr. Kent informs me. “Are you feeling stressed right now?”
Unable to explain that my heart is racing because I’m picturing him climbing onto this table, raising my legs into the air, and fucking me until I cum screaming, I opt for a silent nod instead.
Dr. Kent frowns briefly as he removes the cuff. “Stress isn’t good. Let’s see what we can do to help you relax, okay?”
And then his hands are on me for real, gently massaging the area under my jaw at the top of my throat.
“Lymph nodes feel good,” he murmurs.
Your hands feel good, I barely stop myself from saying.
“I need you to let go of that iron grip you’ve got on your gown so I can examine you.” I think I detect a small chuckle in his voice.
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