to whoever requested nurse gee, thank you. i got wet writing this.
The exam room was cold, fluorescent light humming above you as Nurse Gee stepped closer to the examination table, dark hair tucked neatly behind her ears, pink lips curved in that warm little smile. She was always so sweet, so perfectly professional, even when the bulge beneath her crisp white skirt hinted at something else entirely.
“Relax for me, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice soft as velvet.
The latex snapped against her wrists as she pulled her gloves on, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. She flexed her fingers once, then trailed them down your chest, over the thin hospital gown. Cool air kissed your skin as she lifted the fabric just enough, folding it back with clinical care.
Her gloved fingertips found their way between your thighs. She started slow—cool latex circling your clit, precise and medical, like she was simply taking readings. You were already soaked, the wet, shameless sounds of your slickness filled the quiet room with every stroke through your folds. Your thighs began twitching. You squeezed your eyes shut in concentration, bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted copper–desperate to stay still, to stay silent.
But Nurse Gee notices everything.
Her hazel eyes glittered with something far from detached.
“Oh, poor thing,” she whispered, almost pitying, “trying so, so hard for me.”
The circles tightened, faster now–deliberately intensified to coax a reaction from you. The firm pressure from her strong fingers made your hips jerk despite every effort. A broken whimper slipped out before you could stop it.
“There we go,” she praised, voice low and pleased, watching you unravel beneath her touch. “That’s the response I needed. Let’s see how much more data this pretty little body wants to give me, hm?”
Two gloved fingers from her other hand pushed inside you without hesitation, curling slow and deep as the steady circles on your clit continued. The dual sensation had your back arch off the exam table, nails digging into the vinyl-covered pad. Her hands worked together, pumping in and out of you and rubbing in fervent strokes, you were teetering on the edge.
Your breath hitched, ragged little gasps you could no longer control. Nurse Gee’s eyes never left your face, drinking in the flush on your cheeks, the way your lips parted with silent pleas.
“Good girl,” she cooed, voice syrupy with approval. “Look at you, giving me everything I asked for.”
She curled her fingers harder inside you, pressing that perfect spot while her other hand mercilessly circled your clit. Your thighs clamped around her wrist on instinct, but she only hummed and spread you wider with a gentle nudge of her elbow.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning in so her breath ghosted your ear. “Let the monitors see. Let me see.”
The coil in your belly snapped.
You came with a broken cry, hips bucking against her hands. Pleasure crashed through you in hot waves, pulsing around her fingers still buried deep, soaking the latex, the vinyl beneath you.
Nurse Gee didn’t stop. She rode you through it, slow and steady, drawing out every aftershock until you were whimpering again, eyes glassy as your gaze locked with hers.
Only then did she ease off, withdrawing her fingers gently. She peeled the gloves inside-out in one smooth motion, dropped them into the bin, and smoothed your gown back down over your thighs like nothing happened.
“Perfect response,” she said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. Her smile was small, satisfied, admiring.
“Everything looks just fine, darling. We’ll schedule a follow-up very soon.”
