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A Hysterical Widow

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Doctor Paul Rogers set the steaming cup of coffee on his desk and looked at the neat computer printed appointment sheet as he pulled up his chair. His office assistant Sally produced the sheet each evening before she left for the day and placed it right in the center of Paul’s rarely used desk. In fact if it weren’t for sitting behind it to read his agenda and sip a coffee when he arrived he might not go into his sanctum for days at a time.

His eye skipped the first column which was the appointment time and scanned mainly the second column which contained the patient’s name. Each name was familiar and conjured not necessarily an image but a word or two that he associated with that individual. For some of the names his eyes shifted to the third column which was reason for visit. Just before the wide space in the middle of the page that signified lunch he saw a name that caused his stomach to clench—Sylvia Fortin. Paul knew that the clenching would not stay restricted to his abdomen. The tightness descended into his groin and he was ashamed of himself.

Sylvia and her late husband had been patients for about five years. John Fortin was a pretty fit man in his mid forties, three years older than his wife. His general good health was no defense against the runaway tractor trailer that ended his life and twenty year marriage two years ago.

Paul arranged for Sylvia to get grief counseling but when she made an appointment a few months later complaining of general aches and pains and difficulty sleeping, he started her on low dose of an antidepressant.

The widow was a very attractive woman. Paul fought the word that first came to mind; beautiful. The weight she put on during those months was partly due to the medication. It seemed ironic that the stuff that was supposed to make you feel better had a side effect destined to make you feel worse. He thought her affect had improved a little when she came in for her annual Pap smear and pelvic exam but that was when the strangeness really started. He’d performed the procedure, which most women dreaded, on Sylvia at least four times previously. Missus Fortin was one of those women who always declined a chaperone. Doctor Rogers understood the logic; the fewer people of either sex who were witness to the embarrassing ordeal the better.

During her previous appointments Sylvia had seemed typically embarrassed and anxious to get it over with. Paul made notes in the file to make idle chit chat during the procedure hoping to make the woman as comfortable as possible and distract her somewhat. Unfortunately his notes weren’t up to date and were worse than useless since they referred to plans she might have with her husband (now deceased). So it was that he proceeded with the examination in uncomfortable near silence.

Missus Fortin made some soft sounds during the breast examination, prompting Paul to ask if she found it painful. She seemed rather breathless when she assured him that he wasn’t hurting her. Doctor Rogers would much later realize that the sounds were actually moans.

The next shock came when he had her scoot down the table and assisted her in getting positioned in the stirrups. Folding the drape back the doctor had to stifle a gasp when he discovered that his forty-four year old patient had removed all of her pubic hair. Her vulva and pubic mound were quite pink, possibly indicating that the removal had been quite recent. That speculation turned out to be incorrect. Doctor Rogers briefly considered questioning the decision purely from a medical point of view but opted to let sleeping dogs lie. (Or perhaps that should be sleeping pussies… bald ones)

Feeling more unnerved in the circumstance than he had since he was an intern Paul took the speculum from its warm water lubricating bath. With gentle skill he separated his patient’s inner labia with the closed blades. There was absolutely no missing the amount of clear fluid that coated Sylvia’s lips and vaginal canal. There was only one likely reason.

The smear took a little longer to collect because his hands weren’t as steady as usual. When the specimen was properly packaged for the lab Doctor Rogers took several deep breaths. The next part of the examination now seemed fraught with danger.

Willing his hands to be steady was as effective as willing his member not to swell. He was palpating the outer labia, no more quickly than normal but he had the feeling it was much less effective. His mind was as much on his own genitals as it was on his patient’s. The inner labia parted naturally as he pressed on Missus Fortin’s outer lips. At the apex of the thickly coated swollen lips Paul saw the clitoral hood emerge he was still hoping that somehow he was wrong, but the jellybean sized glans projecting out from under the protective flap erased every shadow of a doubt. His patient was in a state of full arousal.

He’d been concentrating so hard on maintaining his professional decorum that he hadn’t even noticed the soft mewing sounds Sylvia was making. It had to stop! He simply could not allow this to go any further!

Stripping illegal bahis off his gloves, Doctor Rogers tossed them at the waste basket and missed. He didn’t care.

“There you go, all done for another year,” he mumbled lifting Sylvia’s heels out of the stirrups. Practically running he grabbed the vial with the smear in it and said, “I’ll be in touch in the event the lab finds anything of concern.” He was out the door of the examination room before his patient was able to utter the forlorn sigh.

It was just weeks after that the next time Sylvia’s name showed up on his appointment sheet. The same note was in the third column, ‘Reason for appointment’ that time as he was seeing today—abdominal pain. Paul remembered thinking at that time; he’d seen the lovely Missus Fortin quite often since her husband’s passing, but gave her impending visit little thought other than that.

He’d entered the small examination room were Sylvia sat stiffly in the desk side chair and wished he hadn’t caught the fresh soapy scent of her as he passed by. He recalled taking her hand for the polite handshake greeting and trying to make eye contact with her timid almost evasive look.

As they discussed the reason for her visit Doctor Rogers felt his stomach tighten and knot. The answers to all of the questions about the exact type, location and frequency of the pain led to an inescapable conclusion.

“There are several possible causes,” he recalled saying. “In order to narrow those down I’d like to do a pelvic examination if that’s okay?”

Biting her lip, Sylvia nodded her agreement. The widow’s expression was enigmatic. Paul was expecting anxiety, even fear, but he wasn’t entirely sure that’s what he saw. Rising from his chair the tightness in his stomach seemed to drop lower.

“Remove everything from the waist down. There is a gown on the table if you want it, and a sheet to cover yourself with.”

As he stepped out of the little examination room he thought, ‘I must have said those words hundreds… thousands of times. Why are they having this effect on me in this case?’

The tension in his stomach had become a pressure in his groin.

‘Did I really say—I’d like to—do a pelvic exam? How about, I need to… or even I want to…’

Paul went to get a glass of cold water and stood by the cooler sipping it, hoping he could clear out some of the conflicting and shamefully unprofessional thoughts that had invaded his head. ‘Maybe I should dump this over my head… or down my pants!’

It was impossible, in this situation, to not recall Missus Fortin’s state of arousal the last time he’d examined her. Paul could only hope it was a fluke; that there had been some reason other than the exam which had caused her condition. Maybe she’d been with a lover just before, or was day dreaming about George Clooney.

He didn’t check his watch. Years of experience had imbued him with an internal sense of timing. He knew instinctively how long to wait before knocking on the exam room door.

“Are you ready Missus Fortin?” he called through the closed door.

“Yes,” came the clearly affirmative reply in a most dubious tone.

She was sitting on the end of the table with the sheet draped over her lap and knees, exactly as he’d expected. Doctor Rogers was working on delivering his most reassuring smile when he felt his face drop.

Taking in the whole of his patient he was first surprised by the fact that she had chosen to don the examination gown. On the clothes tree beside the examination table hung a beautiful, large, white, lacy, brassiere. On the same hook, above the ornately decorated cups was a matching pair of equally ornate white panties. He could see that her skirt and blouse were hung beneath the underwear and the doctor froze.

He felt the grabbing sensation in his groin but it was in the background to the turmoil in his brain. Every other woman patient he could recall had always been careful, some obsessively so, to keep their undergarments out of view. Missus Fortin had not only not hidden them she had made them impossible to ignore. He was so agape at the uniqueness of her immodesty that it took a second for the realization that she had unnecessarily stripped completely naked to emerge.

‘How long was I standing there in the doorway? What kind of stupid expression was on my face?’ There would never be answers for these questions. He recalled managing to force some kind of a smile as he returned from catatonia.

“I need you to move up the table,” he’d said and decided it was best to focus on the far wall rather than watch the thinly draped woman push her hands into the crunchy paper covered vinyl, wiggling her bum higher until only her feet were overhanging the end.

“That’s good, now just lay back for me,” he’d instructed and put his hand behind her shoulders to help support her on the way down. The gown was very loosely tied and his hand was on her very warm extraordinarily soft skin.

He looked into her beautiful wide green eyes and wished he could somehow be looking at her through a small illegal bahis siteleri window where only a small segment was visible at any time, but that wasn’t the case. There was no way for his eyes to focus on her abdomen without scanning across her chest. Her breasts lolled to the outsides of her ribs and made their considerable size evident under the blue gown. The over washed cotton was thin enough that Paul could make out not only the texture of the pump nipple that capped each of the mounds, but he could actually make out that it was a darker color than the surrounding breast flesh. The visual input went directly to his balls and he mentally cursed his weakness.

He had of course seen Sylvia topless more than once, but it was different then; before the paradigm shift brought about by her reaction during her last pelvic exam. In fact, recalling what her breasts looked like ‘in the flesh’ was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Not many people would compare hospital garb to lingerie but in some ways the thinly masked—the not quite revealed—was actually more erotic than nudity.

“I’m just going to listen and poke around a little bit here,” the doctor explained lifting the gown out from under the leg drape to expose Sylvia’s tummy. “You let me know if you feel any discomfort… okay?” The inscrutable look in those glacial lake green eyes did not project permission it was more like resignation.

Paul began his systematic palpation of the woman’s midsection. There was comfort and calming for him in the routine. He found he could forget who he was examining and concentrate on the conditions he was looking for (and in a way hoping that he would find). Next he applied his stethoscope to the soft slightly doughy flesh listening to bowel and digestive tract sounds. When he completed the process he paused, the disc of his stethoscope in his hand hovering just above Sylvia’s cute little button navel.

If he’d found an inflammation of one of the abdominal organs or any tenderness he could have considered the physical examination complete and prescribed other diagnostic tests like an ultrasound perhaps. Such findings would have been inconsistent with his patient’s reported symptoms, but there was always hope. The absence of findings during the upper abdominal exam left him no choice but to proceed to the lower abdominal and (oh God) the pelvic.

The fact that his penis had returned to its flaccid state during the first part of the physical made its resurgence more noticeable. Restrained by his under shorts and slacks and hidden by the long medical coat Paul’s member began its involuntary rise. What he had to do next was scary but (God forgive me!) thrilling.

He pulled the gown back down covering her less private parts, in preparation for the most intimate exposure. Stepping to the end of the table he deployed the discreetly hidden stirrups.

“Okay now I’m going to need you to scoot back down to the end of the table,” he said as he placed Sylvia’s heels in the cloth covered metal brackets one by one.

The doctor took a deep breath and watched the paper covered end of the table, not his patient’s approaching bare buttocks and vulva. In a couple of seconds the flesh and the table mat were in the same frame anyway. Paul felt the twitch of his dick as her butt was at the edge. He said nothing and let her make that one more scrunch, the one that had her actually overhanging the end of the table, before he said, “Okay that’s good.”

It was impossible to not see that she hadn’t reconsidered the Brazilian pubic hair style. The absence of hair only made the state of her sexual arousal more immediately noticeable. The pink flush and the moisture droplets on the labia would have been obscured to some extent by natural foliage but with the help of a razor and resolve of undetermined origin Missus Fortin had cleared away all protection.

Normally he would have been running the possible conditions suggested by the symptoms through his head and planning his examination to confirm or eliminate them one at a time. As he snapped on the latex gloves all Doctor Rogers could think about was the beauty of the dewy blossoming flower of femininity less than four feet away, and the way his dick was now not only fully erect, but throbbing. Twenty years of trainng and experience was in conflict with many thousand years of evolution and it didn’t seem like a fair fight.

“A couple of deep breaths… in… and … out,” Paul was trying to follow his own advice because his breath had gotten quite short. “That’s it in… and… out…” he spoke at the pace she should be breathing.

Missus Fortin had closed her eyes and was conscientiously following orders. Paul, looking toward his patient’s face again could not avoid seeing the rise and fall of her boobs under the gown. The bumps that defined her nipples had become larger, more pronounced and he wondered if the deep breathing was actually causing the cotton gown to rub on them. The sight was turning the throb in his groin to an ache.

“Okay now hold that breath for a second,” the canlı bahis siteleri doctor standing at the foot of the table between her spread thighs instructed; “when I tell you I want you to let it all out nice and slowly.”

Paul looked down at the engorged vulva. He had to. Holding back his baby and his ring finger with his thumb, his middle finger contacted Sylvia’s pouting wet inner lips just where they overlapped slightly. He knew what it would feel like, hot and very slippery, the latex slightly masking the velvety smoothness. Making a back and forth motion to separate her folds he said, “now—let it all out.”

As Missus Fortin exhaled the doctor pushed his two fingers against her posterior vaginal wall and slid them deep inside the widow’s flooded tunnel. Paul was careful to keep his wrist abducted as he took his patient’s cervix between his fingers. He didn’t need to be looking down to ensure that he was on target anymore, but he was. What he saw was the prone woman’s rosy inner labia wrapped around his yellowish looking gloved fingers and above that the pink peanut of her clitoris poking almost straight out.

There was a vibration, like a rumble from her core, which accompanied the air exiting her lungs. Paul would later realize that it was the longest quietest moan that he had ever heard. It was not unusual at this point for the patient to pull away—to push hard against the stirrups in a reflexive attempt to escape the penetration. It was something of a surprise when Sylvia’s hips did the opposite. They thrust toward his exploring hand. Because it was unexpected, Doctor Rogers was a little chagrined to realize that his wrist was not abducted enough. The downward movement of her hips eliminated his wrist cock and brought her girl-cock into firm contact with the heel of his hand. The firm nubbin was large enough to make its presence known even through the glove.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been distracted by his own arousal he might have reacted faster and stopped the illicit contact. His brain was too busy trying to retrieve the sensory data on what her cervix should feel like while not acknowledging how wonderful her pussy felt wrapped around his fingers. The delay in his reaction (or maybe retraction) allowed Sylvia to make several quick gyrations against the doctor’s hand. Accompanying the quick rotary action was a series of soft yelps syncopated by grunts.

It wasn’t as though he had no choice. He could have pulled his hand away from the pre-orgasmic woman writhing on his table. Maybe that’s what he should have done, but that’s not what he did. The doctor pressed his thumb against the root of his patient’s clitoris while she continued to thrust and gyrate against his palm. He accompanied this with a rhythmical in and out motion of his two fingers before adding a third.

Doctor Rogers now immersed himself in the sensory input he’d been trying to block a moment ago. The sensation of pressure from velvety slick walls tightening on his fingers was transmitted directly to his pulsing manhood. The urge to stroke his aching rod was irresistible but it was delayed by Missus Fortin’s high pitched breathy squeal. Her pelvis was more than a couple of inches off the table. She held the arch during what the doctor had no trouble diagnosing as an orgasm, and then her ass dropped back onto the table but continued to twitch in time with spasms he felt squeezing his fingers. Reluctantly Paul withdrew.

It wasn’t easy to get a grip. Doctor Rogers became only too well aware of how far out of hand this situation had gotten. How his professionalism had been consumed in the fire between Missus Fortin’s legs. His gonads felt like bowling balls and his cock was jerking painfully against its confinement demanding his undivided attention. Before he could do that he had to excuse himself.

“When you’re dressed I’d like you to come to my office so we can discuss my findings,” he announced as he exited the small examination room and made a B-line for his office and its adjoining private washroom.

Sylvia Fortin heard the Doctor Rogers say something but she would never know what it was. She was soaring on a cloud without a number but she was convinced it would be higher than nine if she ever found it. She knew that shame and self-loathing would come later but right now she resisted being distracted from the warmth and tranquility she was feeling.

The bliss was short lived but a measure of the peaceful floating feeling made her feel sleepy. Memories swirled in that twilight zone. Her dearly departed mother’s image hovered then sharpened. Sylvia had always been a respectful and obedient child, always anxious to please adults most particularly her mother, whom she idolized.

In the misty day dream she saw herself. She was young, maybe six or seven; thirty-five years ago but as painful as the day it happened. She got home from school and went to her room to change. Earlier in the day she’d overheard older girls in the school yard giggling about touching themselves. Young Sylvia’s curiosity was aroused if the older girls were doing it then it must be something worth trying. She’d barely gotten her pants off and begun to explore when her mother came in. It was the one and only time in her life that she had ever been spanked. To say her mother went ballistic would be a massive understatement.

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