The Receptionist’s Secret
The last patient left an hour ago. I locked the front door and flipped the sign to ‘Closed.’ But I didn’t leave. I can’t. My whole body is buzzing. Hot. Sweaty. My pussy is so fucking hard, just throbbing against the fabric of this stupid white jumper. I swear you can see everything through it. I didn’t wear any panties today. I knew I wouldn’t make it home.
It’s Dr. Brooks. God, she drives me crazy.
I’m at my reception desk, standing now, unzipping my jumper.
My legs are spread. The office is so quiet, just the hum of the fridge in the break room. my ass touches the edge of the desk as I through my head back. I think about her so much. That bitchy look she gives me when I hand her a file. Like she’s annoyed, but her eyes drop to my cleavage for just a second. And her tits. Fuck. They’re huge. Perfect. And her nipples are always poking through her scrubs. I can see the outline of them, hard and demanding. It makes me go crazy.
I slide my hand slides over the crotch of my jumper. The fabric is thin, it rips. My skin is hot. My fingers brush over my plumped-up wet pussy lips. They’re so swollen and sensitive. I moan, the sound too loud in the empty office. I don’t care.
I think about her walking by. Her scrubs are so tight. Her cleavage is popping. I imagine her stopping at my desk. Leaning over. Her tits would be right in my face. I can almost smell her perfume. Something expensive and sharp. Like her.
My finger finds my clit again. Oh god. It’s huge and throbbing. I plumped that too. Best money I ever spent. I rub slow circles around it, not on it yet. Just teasing. My hips buck up into my own hand. I’m so fucking horny.
I close my eyes. I’m not in the office anymore. I’m in one of the treatment rooms. The one with the big leather bed. Dr. Brooks is there. She’s not wearing her white coat. Just a tight black latex one-piece. She’s looking down at me with that same bored, bitchy expression.
“You’re a mess,” she’d say. Her voice is flat. Cold.
“I know,” I’d whine. “I can’t help it. You make me like this.”
She’d shake her head. But then she’d unzip her top. Just a little. Just enough to show more of that incredible cleavage. My mouth waters. My fingers on my clit speed up. The pressure builds.
In my head, she steps closer. “Show me,” she commands.
I’d pull my jumper down, my massive fake tits bouncing out. I’d spread my legs wider. My pussy is dripping. I’d put my fingers inside myself, then pull them out, shiny and wet. I’d hold them up to her.
“See?” I’d say. “It’s all for you.”
Back in the real office, two of my own fingers plunge inside my pussy. It’s so wet. The sound is obscene. Slick and messy.I fuck myself with them, hard and fast. My other hand is pinching and twisting my nipple through the thin fabric of my jumper. I can see the dark pink of my swollen areola through the white material. God, I’m such a slut.
In the fantasy, Dr. Brooks would take my wet fingers and put them in her mouth. She’d suck them clean, her eyes locked on mine. Then she’d push me back on the bed. She wouldn’t kiss me. She’s too mean for that. She’d just grab my tits, squeezing them hard. Her thumbs would rub over my nipples until I cried out.
“Quiet,” she’d hiss. But then she’d lower her head. And she’d bite my nipple. Enough to make me scream.
I’m screaming now. A choked, gasping sound. My back arches off the chair. My fingers are a blur inside me, crooking up to hit that spot. My clit is a burning, electric knot under my thumb. I’m so close. So close.
I imagine her moving down my body. Her perfect face between my thighs. She’d look up at me, her expression still annoyed. “You’d better squirt for me,” she’d say. Like it’s an order. Like I’m inconveniencing her.
That’s all it takes.
Oh fuck. My whole body seizes. A wave of crazy heat crashes through me. My pussy clenches around my fingers, pulsing, gripping. And then it happens. A hot gush sprays out of me. I squirt and squirt, my hips jerking uncontrollably. It feels like my soul is shooting out of my cunt. I see stars behind my eyelids. I gasp for air, my mouth hanging open.
It goes on forever. When it finally stops, I’m a trembling mess. Sprawled in the chair. My jumper is soaked. The chair is wet. I slowly pull my fingers out of my slick, used-up pussy. I’m breathing so hard.
God, I need a change of clothes. Again.












