🩺While You Watch🩺(CW : Mild Medfet : Doctor x Patient Dynamic, slight CNC from Spouse at beginning (forced to watch), Cuckolding, strapon, strapon referred to as “cock”, humiliation, degradation, themes of jealousy, consensual touching + teasing of body parts.)
I pause on the porch, medical bag in one hand, the other raised to knock. Voices carry clearly through the front door.
“You keep bringing her up,” your wife says, quiet but heated. “Every time you talk about that goddamn hospital it’s her hands, her voice… it’s starting to sound like more than gratitude.”
Your reply is softer, almost cautious : “I know. I just… I keep thinking about how steady she was. The way she touched the sore spots without making me flinch. It felt different. I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Different how? She’s your doctor. You’re supposed to be focused on getting better, not… whatever this is.”
“I am focused. But I can’t help noticing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like—”
A frustrated breath from your wife follows. Then silence. I knock once, hard and abrupt, and wait exactly three seconds before turning the handle and stepping inside.
I walk into the living room, medical bag in hand, white coat still crisp.
I announce my presence to your wife - “Good afternoon. Doctor Extension.”
Before turning to you, ”Let’s see that hip.”
Your wife sits rigid on the couch, arms folded tight in silent protest. You’re already on the mat in soft shorts and a thin tank top.
“Lie on your back for me.” I kneel, palms settling gently on your thigh. “We’ll start with external rotation. Deep breath in… and out.”
You obey, eyes on mine. “Yes, Doctor.”
I guide your leg outward, my hands tender - pressing just above the joint. “Feel that stretch? Tell me exactly what you’re feeling.”
“Tight… but good. Really good.” Your voice is already softer.
Your wife shifts. “Is that angle necessary? It looks—”
“It is,” I answer without looking at her, an unspoken protest of my own. My hand slides higher, fingers brushing the soft crease of your inner thigh. “Open a little more for me. That’s it. I don’t repeat instructions.”
I switch sides, working the stretch deeper. Each pass of my knuckles grazes the damp fabric between your legs. Your breath catches.
“Hmm?” I keep my tone clinical even as my thumb traces a slow circle over your hip bone. “Talk to me. What do you need right now?”
“I need… more pressure. Please.”
I press firmer, then let my fingers drift ever so slightly under the hem of your shorts, skin on skin. “Like this. Stay still. You’re not in charge of this session.”
You nod, hips twitching. “Yes. God, yes.”
Your wife’s voice sharpens. “She’s supposed to be doing physical therapy, not—”
“She is,” I cut in, still watching your face. “And she’s responding beautifully. Aren’t you?”
“I’m trying.” Your cheeks flush. “I’ve been thinking about your hands since the hospital. The way you touched me then…”
I ease your shorts down your legs. You’re bare underneath, already glistening for me. My fingers skim your outer lips, teasing, but not entering yet. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking. Clearly.”
You hesitate, breath uneven. “About… how careful you were. How you never rushed. And then later, when I was alone, I kept imagining your hands staying longer. Sliding higher. Opening me a little.. I didn’t mean for it to go further in my head, but it did.”
Your wife makes a choked sound. “This is not happening.” Her cheeks already pink; she presses her thighs together and looks away, then back at us again like she can’t help it.
I ignore her, circling your clit with the pad of one finger, slow and deliberate. “Feel how wet she is already? Just from the stretches. Listen to her.” And you—” I glance once at your wife, voice flat—“you will stay seated and quiet unless I ask you something. Understood?”
“Brilliant. Your interference is not necessary.”
Your wife is gobsmacked, but you don’t notice. You’re too preoccupied with drinking me in. You moan, thighs trembling. “Please… don’t stop. I need more than fingers.”
I reach into my bag and pull out the strap-on, the base rigid where it will press against me. I push my lab coat aside, buckling it into my harness while your eyes stay locked on the cock. Your wife’s breathing is audible now - she shifts on the couch, one hand gripping the cushion hard enough to whiten her knuckles, the other resting low in her lap like she’s trying to distract herself from the heat between her own legs.
“Look at her,” I tell your wife. “She’s staring at my cock like she can’t wait to take it. Are you jealous?”
“I—yes. Damn it, yes.” The confession comes out tight, almost ashamed, but her eyes don’t leave the place where the strap hangs between us.
I settle between your thighs, the head of the strap nudging your entrance but not pushing in. I rock it gently, coating it in your wetness. “Ask me properly.”
You swallow, voice low and shaky. “Please, Doctor. I want you inside me. I’ve been needing it… since the first appointment. Properly.”
Your wife’s voice cracks. “Don’t—”
I push in slow, inch by inch, feeling you stretch open for me around my thick shaft. You gasp, nails digging into my coat. I hold still once I’m fully seated, then begin to thrust with a frustratingly slow pace.
“Breathe. Good girl. Tell me how it feels.” I grab your jaw harshly.
“And don’t look at her—look at me.”
“Full… so full. Please move. Please fuck me.”
I start thrusting—deep, measured strokes that make the hardwood floor underneath the mat creak. Every time I level off I pause, letting you feel the stretch, before pulling back and driving deep into you again. Your wife can’t look away. Her lips are parted - she keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs, shame written across her face even as her breathing stays shallow and quick.
“She’s clenching around me already,” I say over my shoulder, smirking at your wife.
“So greedy for her doctor’s cock. Not yours.”
You moan louder. “Harder—oh fuck—yes. Just like that. I’ve been aching for this.”
I keep the pace steady, deliberate, never quite letting you tip over the edge. My gloved hand finds your clit, rubbing slow circles in time with the thrusts. “Not yet. I want you to feel every inch for a little while longer. Tell your wife what you want.”
You look past me, eyes glassy. “I want her to keep fucking me. I want to cum on her cock while you watch. I’m sorry—I’m not sorry.”
She breaks the silence. Your wife’s voice is tight, almost a whisper. “I hate how much I like watching this.” The words sound forced, like she’s trying to convince herself more than either of us. Her hand has slipped lower without her seeming to notice - she freezes when she realizes, then leaves it there, cheeks burning.
I smile, hips rolling deeper. “Good. Keep watching. She’s not allowed to cum until I say. And you don’t get to hide how wet this is making you.”
Your wife goes bright red when I say it.
I fuck you steadily, the wet sounds filling the room, building the pressure without letting it break. Your legs tremble around my waist. Your breath turns into broken moans and pleas.
“Doctor—please—I’m so close. Let me cum. Please let me cum on your cock.”
I lean down, lips at your ear, still thrusting. “Not yet. Beg a little more. Let her hear how badly you need it.”
“Please—fuck—I’ve never needed anything this bad. Fill me up. Make me cum. I don’t care if she’s jealous. I only want you inside me right now.”
I finally speed up, the base of the strap slapping hard against your clit with every stroke. “Now. Cum for me. Right now. Let her hear it.”
You shatter with a cry, pulsing hard around my cock, hips jerking as much as the recovering joint will allow. I fuck you through it, deep and relentless, until the last tremor fades. Then I slow, still buried inside you, grinding gently.
Your wife’s cheeks are flushed, “I really hate this.” Her voice is smaller now, she’s clearly aroused and fighting it, thighs pressed tightly together, unable to stop staring at where we’re joined.
I rock my hips once more, keeping you full. “No you don’t. You’re soaked just from watching us, And she’s still holding onto me like she never wants me to pull out.”
You look up at me, blissed and greedy. “Don’t. Stay inside me a little longer, Doctor. Please.”
I smile, coat still half-open, my cock buried deep inside of you. “As long as you need it, Angel. And you—” I look over at your wife again—“will stay right there and watch until I decide otherwise. Clear?”
She nods once, miserable and hungry at the same time, she can’t look away.
I stay exactly where I am, buried to the hilt, one hand braced beside your head. My free hand reaches back without looking and catches your wife’s wrist when she tries to shift further into the corner of the couch.
“Closer,” I say, voice clinical. “Sit on the edge of the mat. Knees together if you must, but I want you close enough to see every detail.”
She moves like it costs her, face burning, and settles where I indicated. Her thighs are pressed so tightly the seam of her jeans digs in. I can smell how wet she is from here.
I roll my hips once, slow and deliberate, watching your face soften again. “Still full?”
“Yes, Doctor.” Your voice is thick, satisfied and laced with an insatiable greed for more.
“Good.” I glance at your wife without pulling out. “Look at how easily she takes it. How her body just… opens for me. You can try to hate it all you want. Your breathing says otherwise.”
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are locked on the place where the black strap disappears into you, slick with your cum. One of her hands has curled into a fist against her own thigh.
I grind deeper, keeping the pressure of my finger steady on your clit. “You’ll stay exactly there until I decide the session is over. And if you touch yourself, you’ll ask first. Understood?”
Your wife’s voice comes out barely above a whisper, thick with shame and something darker. “…Understood, Doctor.”
I smile, still planted inside you, providing one more slow roll of my hips just to hear the soft, wet sound it makes.
“Good girl,” I tell her. Then, quieter, to you: “We’re not finished yet.”
