Private doctor visit

Imagine, my mother's friend is named Eva Adamovna. I first heard this name in childhood, when I was about seven, and it caught my attention with its rarity; all the girls I knew were named Lena, Tanya, and Anya, and I had never heard names like Eva at all. And this Eva also had the patronymic Adamovna, which isn't all that common either. Eva Adamovna herself, however, had no complexes about it. From that first meeting with her, I have very vague memories. As a woman, they consist mainly of two impressions: the smell of perfume mixed with the smell of medicine, and cold hands that felt and tapped me. She is a pediatrician and, at my

mother's request, came to examine me because I had chickenpox.

I'm not exactly ugly, but I'm a rather unnoticeable guy, and I don't make any particular achievements in studies or sports either. So all I can do is admire my female classmates and lust after them, secretly masturbating at home, alone. And so, at this point in my life, I saw Adamovna for the second time. She came to our place for some reason, something to do with my mom, I think. She stood and talked with my mom in the hallway for exactly five minutes. However, that time was quite enough for me to look her over, and after that looking, a familiar sweet ache began in my lower abdomen. Indeed, the first thing that caught the attention was her jet-black hair and slightly slanted eyes of the same color.

Then, breasts not too large but pleasantly rounded, noticeable very well through her blouse. Her rather wide hips were hugged by a tight gray skirt ending just above the knees. And Adamovna's muscular, tanned calves transition into slender ankles, as she has to walk a lot. And delightful little toes, with nails painted pink, peek out from under light sandals with small heels. Obviously, after she left, I engaged in my favorite activity, masturbation, and later often masturbated, first simply remembering how she stood in the hallway, and then imagining us in different situations where our relationship developed by mutual consent. These daydreams completely replaced fantasies involving my classmates, especially since Adamovna continued to visit us often.

Then, in my fantasies about Adamovna, the theme of rape began to dominate. Apparently, the reason was that such a scenario was more realistic than one where Adamovna was seduced during a medical examination by the charms of an eighteen-year-old pimply boy. My parents left for the dacha at eleven, leaving me alone until evening. Today Eva Adamovna was supposed to come over. My mom waited for her arrival until the last minute, but after my father started cursing, she left anyway, warning me that if Eva did come, apologize and say that I couldn't wait for her. When they left, I seriously thought that in this situation there was a real chance for my sexual dreams to come true, and that thought scared me a lot, while also exciting me at the same time.

The longer I thought about it, the more aroused I became and the weaker the fear grew. Fear of failure; I wasn't thinking about the consequences at that moment. In the end, I made a decision: I had to try. My father was a policeman, and I knew where he hid the handcuffs; I had found them a couple of times in the nightstand in my parents' bedroom. The doorbell rang at twelve. By that time, I was fully prepared. I open the door. Behind the door stands she, the object of my sweet dreams. She is dressed the same as during our second meeting: the same skirt, the same blouse, the same sandals. Only the pedicure is silver-colored now. "Hi, Antosha. Is mom home?" she asked me. Her voice is feminine and soft. "Yes, but she went to the store, she'll be back soon." "Okay, I'll come by later," she tried to turn around, but I stopped her.

"No, no, she asked me to invite you in if you came, she'll be here soon." "Well, okay." Eva started taking off her sandals. "No, no, don't take them off," I protested. I really like the look of her feet in sandals. "Come into the room." I led her to my parents' bedroom. In the bedroom, she sat on the bed because there was nowhere else to sit. She sat like a schoolgirl, knees tightly together, palms on them, and began looking around the surroundings; she had never been in this room before, and the fact that I invited her here was surprising to her. "How are things at school?" she asked me, apparently to keep the conversation going. "So-so," I brushed it off vaguely. And then I got straight to the point. "Can I ask you something, as a doctor?" "What about?" "About autogenic training."

"I was reading a book, it says how to do it, you know, unlocking deep human potential and so on." "You want to ask if it's true? Possibly, though I can't tell you from my own experience." Eva was slightly confused. Apparently, she didn't expect such conversations from a half-wit. "Well, look," I interrupted her. "For example, stretch your arms forward, palms down, and close your eyes." I tried to say this in as businesslike and innocent a tone as possible. Adamovna, smiling, obediently stretched her arms forward and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "No, not like that, turn towards the window so the light falls on your face."

She turned. Her outstretched arms ended up right over the lattice headboard of the bed, which was a rather sturdy construction of decorative, intricate interweavings of strong steel rods. For another second, I admired how she sat half-turned on the bed, slightly parting her round knees, and deftly, with my father's handcuffs, fastened her hands to the bed, to one of the intricate interweavings. Feeling the cold bracelets on her wrists, she opened her eyes and stared at them in amazement. "Oh," she cried out softly when I pushed her. She fell onto her side and the handcuff chain twisted. It turned out that now she was lying on her back, pressed to the bed by my not-too-heavy body, and her arms stretched upward—I had fastened them quite high—were securely shackled.

Her legs, in the sandals I liked so much, were still hanging off the bed. My hands lay on her shoulders, feeling the bra straps. For the first time, I felt warm female flesh under my palms, though still only through the fabric of her blouse. I tried to fix that immediately and decided to tear Eva's blouse, grabbing the lapels with my fingers, but then Eva came to her senses and began to struggle desperately. "You freak, you little bastard, you son of a bitch! Let me go, you bastard! Ayy! Aaau!" she screams furiously, writhing her whole body and kicking her legs at the same time. The fabric tore, several buttons flew off, and the blouse opened, revealing slender collarbones and rounded breasts under the cups of a white bra. The sandals flew off her feet, and one of them, describing an arc, hit the window, almost breaking the glass. With her knee, she painfully hit me in the side, and twisting, jabbed her right elbow into my lips, splitting them.

"You fucking pervert," she continues, and then I, feeling the taste of blood on my split lips, pulled back and punched Eva not too hard in the upper stomach. Her scream broke off mid-word, and she started coughing, convulsively gasping for air, ceasing all resistance. Without thinking long, I leaned on her again, started pulling up her skirt with my right hand, sliding over the smooth skin of her thigh, while with my left I tried to pull down my sweatpants. Then she started jerking again, having caught her breath a little, and I decided to moderate my ardor. She wasn't going anywhere now, I thought, I just needed to do everything more comfortably, as I had planned initially. I hit Eva in the solar plexus again, and while she, with wide-open eyes, was recovering her breath, I grabbed her legs by the ankles and straightened them with a jerk, simultaneously laying the woman flat on her back. Then I sat astride her knees, thus depriving her of the ability to kick.

Feeling her warm thighs between my knees was extremely exciting. My erect cock was ready to tear the thin fabric of my pants. I looked at Inga's face. From her eyes, black trails of mascara mixed with tears had spread across her cheeks. Her eyes looked at me with hatred. I slapped her hard, then again, and again, and she started sobbing, whimpering; I rubbed my bruised palm. Eva's left cheek reddened, and now her eyes looked at me with fear and pleading. "Antoshenka, sweetie, please, what are you doing. Don't, Antonchik." "Yeah, and half a minute ago you called me a bastard and a freak," I smirked. My voice trembled with excitement. "So, shut up and listen. I'm going to tie your legs now. If you try to kick me, I'll bring pliers and pull out your toenails, understand?" "Understood!" Eva nodded convulsively. I carefully got off her.

Eva, stretched out as if on a string on the bed, doesn't move, only her body is shaken by sobs, and she watches my actions with horror. I brought a clothesline and tied nooses with slipknots at the ends. I threw one loop over the ankle of her left leg, the one closer to me, and tied the other end of the rope to the farthest post of the bed's headboard opposite the one her hands were cuffed to, pulling the rope taut and pulling her leg to the side. Eva moved her right leg to hide her crotch, covered by white panties, from my eyes. Maneuvering, I used the second rope to perform the same operation with her free leg, without any resistance from the frightened woman, and my eyes saw the coveted sight. Widely spread thighs, but the hiked-up skirt and thin blouse fabric hide the most tender and secret places of her body.

"Not for long," I grin. So, on the bed before me lies my mother's friend. Her wrists are securely shackled to the bed's headboard with shiny handcuffs, her bare, tanned legs are widely spread and slightly bent at the knees, tied to the opposite headboard. The blouse is torn, only a couple of lower buttons remain, revealing her heaving chest with small, rounded tits in a white bra. The narrow skirt is hiked up high, and I can see lacy white panties hugging her pelvis. Her beautiful face with a small nose and thin, trembling lips is smeared with mascara that ran with tears, and fear is frozen in her wide-open eyes. I continue to gaze at her greedily, simultaneously deciding what to do next and concluding that I will stretch my pleasure to the maximum. First, I'll undress her completely.

But Eva is tied in such a way that simply taking off her clothes won't work. So I open the nightstand by the head of the bed and take out scissors. I sit on the edge of the bed. The woman began to tremble. Though I myself am trembling from lust and excitement. I reach out, unbutton the remaining intact buttons of the blouse and open it wider, revealing a tummy with an appetizing navel and a small, barely noticeable scar starting just below the navel and disappearing under the skirt. "Where did you get this scar?" I ask. "From a C-section," Eva mutters in a trembling voice. I know she has a daughter two years older than me and that she is divorced from her husband. "So you're like everyone else, didn't give birth? Didn't want to suffer?" "No. There was severe toxemia, a narrow pelvis, the doctors decided not to risk it." "How old are you?" "Forty-one. Antoshenka, I'm two years older than your mother, I treated you when you were little, what are you doing to me?"

"That's good that you didn't give birth like everyone else. Means your pussy is still tight and it will be more pleasant for me to fuck you," I say calmly and stroke her stomach. "Oh God," Eva whispers in horror, and I feel the woman's stomach tense. I unbutton the buttons on the skirt. But pulling the skirt down is hindered by her widely spread legs, so with the scissors I simply cut the fabric all the way down and, pulling the skirt out from under Eva's butt, toss it aside. I start on the bra, cut the front strap over her chest and cut the shoulder straps. Happily, I toss this mutilated item of her clothing aside as well. Now her tits with small dark nipples are hidden by nothing. Putting the scissors aside, I place both palms on her breasts. I feel soft, pliable, and trembling flesh. Squeezing harder, I hear Eva's convulsive sigh. Taking her nipples between my fingers, I start twisting them in different directions.

Eva groaned suppressedly. "Nno, don't, please." I lean down and take a tender nipple into my mouth, squeeze it with my lips, lick it with my tongue. I caress both nipples alternately, simultaneously squeezing her breasts. In short, I do everything I've seen in movies and read about in various instructive articles. After a few seconds, I feel that her initially soft nipples have hardened and swollen. I squeeze her nipples with my fingers again and start fiddling with them in every way. "Aaahh, God. What are you doing, Anton. Stop! No! Ahaa." The fact that she got aroused surprised me, since I'm sort of raping her. I understand, if you jerk a guy's dick, he'll eventually get aroused and cum, regardless of his desire, but women are a different matter, I thought. Could it be that female nature is essentially not much different from male.

It was a revelation to me that the same could be done with women, and I realized that this forced arousal was extremely agonizing for Adamovna. All the more pleasant for me. After a while, I decide to attend to the lower half of her body and sit closer to the spread female legs. I place a hand on her left knee and lean towards her foot, playing with her toes, with nails covered in silver polish, with my other hand. I kiss the inner surface of her foot, then with my lips, bypassing the rope on her ankle, move up along her shin to her knee and further along the inner surface of her thigh. I stop a few centimeters from her panties, in the fold between her thigh and crotch. Eva had been sniffling silently all this time, breathing unevenly and intermittently.

Then I notice that a wet spot has spread on her panties in the crotch area and I smell a strange, slightly pungent odor of urine mixed with an unfamiliar, rather pleasant one. I touch this spot with my finger and feel the woman's body tense. At the same time, she jerked her hands, clanking the handcuffs. I press my finger a little harder and simultaneously move it upward, towards her pubis. Eva shuddered and cried out, but the cry immediately turned into a drawn-out moan. "Ayaaaoooh." I gently massage that spot through the thin fabric. Eva moaned louder. "Nnoo, weell don't, noo. Aah. Auu. Oouhh." The muscles in her legs tensed, she tries to bring her thighs together, but the ropes don't allow it. I ease the pressure slightly, and then Eva's pelvis followed my fingers, as if she didn't want me to stop. "Aaa, you like that," I remarked.

"No, noo, I, I don't want to! You don't want this, but it feels good, right? Well then, let's play." "No, stoahp!" exclaimed Eva, instantly reacting to the pressure of my finger on her clitoris, and I realize that's exactly what I'm fiddling with. Carefully, with the scissors, I cut both thin side straps of her panties and easily pull them out from under her. I had a thought to stuff them in her mouth like a gag, as I'd seen in a movie, but I decide that listening to her moans is an additional pleasure and throw them on the floor. Her crotch was revealed before me. Eva apparently trims her pubic hair, but it had grown out a bit, covering her pubis and labia majora with short, prickly stubble. The small pink lips resemble petals of a pink marshmallow rose, and they also glisten with escaping moisture and are slightly parted, revealing the darkening depth of the slit.

Curiously, with my index finger, I carefully part the thin, moist flesh. "Uuymf," Eva moaned from this, and I couldn't resist bending down and licking this coveted, trembling womb. For the first time, I feel the unique salty taste of a well-kept pussy, while also catching the scent

of a woman who has flowed, ready to receive, to contain my entire trembling, excited cock. At the top, where the labia minora meet, I see a small, moist red button of a clitoris. I wet my index finger with saliva and begin to gently and carefully tease the clitoris, while inserting two fingers of my other hand into the vagina and moving them back and forth. I feel moist, hot folds inside. "Mmaammy, aaahh, uuooh," Eva moans, writhing her whole body. She convulsively tries to move her knees, her spread legs, as much as the ropes allow. She comically shuffles her bare heels on the sheet, gathering folds.

Mucous fluid wets my fingers and oozes onto the sheet under her crot