"Pretty girl," Charles says. "Whos my pretty girl?"
I turn my head toward the wall and mumble an almost inaudible response.
"Cant hear you, love," he chides me. "Cant hear my girl."
"I am," I say, knowing that hes not looking at my face. Knowing that what hes referring to, what he thinks is pretty, is my pussy. Thats where he is, down there between my legs, flashlight in one hand, magnifying glass in the other.
He likes to look inside me. He likes to turn off the lights in the bedroom, get in between my legs, and shine a flashlight directly on my privates. He says hes observing the intricacies of my cunt, the gradations of color, the soft and subtle folds of skin. He watches and plays and remarks on the precise moment when I start to get dewy wet, when my hips begin to lift off the sheet and beg him, silently, wordlessly, to drop the flashlight and give me what I need.
Sometimes, we play doctor. He slides on a pair of thin rubber gloves. He gets the Vaseline and the thermometer and sets everything up nice and neat on the bedside table. He has me put on one of my nightgowns backward, with the buttons running down my spine. He pokes and prods, takes my temperature rectally, gives me a complete examination.
With a mirror, he shows me what I look like. He holds a hand mirror between my legs and rotates the rounded glass so that I can see what he sees. He points to my clit, gently lifting the hood of skin that covers it, making me tingle all over from the sensation of being brushed directly. Its more than I can take, that kind of stimulation, and I close my eyes and lay back against the pillows and beg, this time not so wordlessly, for him to give me what I want.
With the flashlight handy, he has me roll over, and he parts the cheeks of my ass. He rubs Vaseline on my hole and probes me there with one finger, with two, watching the entire time under the glare from the mini-spotlight. It turns him on to feel my ass muscles squeeze on his fingers, but he admonishes me, nonetheless, saying, "This is an examination, girl, dont get so excited."
But I do get excited, feeling slightly violated but worshipped, just the same. All that attention, at close range, makes me drippingly wet, which, in his clinical manner, he comments on.
Sometimes, Im screaming for him to fuck me by the end of the examination. Sometimes, I cant handle all the poking and prodding, and I say, "Please, please, put it in me...." But he takes his sweet time, getting close up to my ass and slipping three fingers inside, then four.
Once, when I couldnt wait, he fucked me with the cool, condom-clad metal handle of the flashlight, sliding it into my cunt, letting me grip onto the textured handle with the muscles of my pussy. With me so well-fucked there, he needed to examine my asshole with something big: his cock. He was dripping precome, as excited by all his observations as I was. He filled me in back with his cock, and continued to fuck me with the flashlight. The light went off, and we were in the dark, but didnt care, rocking on each other, jamming on each other.
Afterward, being as clinical an observer as he is, he got that mirror out again to show me my wet and dripping pussylips. Its fun dating someone who considers himself a Doctor of Love. Of course, I know the reality of what he is. But Id never call him that to his face.