My Hot Doctor Fucked Me 06: Public Sex (Patreon)

OnlyLit Link ;)

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 6: Public Sex

"You want to suck me?" he said, grabbing his bulge.

"No," I said. "I just want you to fuck me."

He breathed out once through his nose, almost a laugh, and watched me from his knees as I leaned back, still rock hard, shining wet in the dark. 

He reached out suddenly and turned me around by my hips, both of those big hands steering me like I weighed nothing, and my palms slapped up against the bark to catch myself. He pulled my jeans down from being bunched at my thighs down to my ankles, pulling my bare lower body out toward him in the dark. I heard his knees shift forward on the grass behind me. He put his face against my ass, like he was feeling the meat of my glutes on his cheek.

"What are you..." I started.

His thumbs spread me apart to interrupt my question, and his warm, wet tongue dragged flat and hot across the center. I flinched, then leaned into it.

He came up for air behind me, breathing roughly, and squeezed one of my cheeks in his whole hand.

"You know you've got a woman's ass?" he said. "So smooth. Not one hair on it. I noticed that the first day you were up on my exam table."

"You really like my ass," I said. 

"It's perfect."

"You're an ass man."

"I'm a you man now."

The achingly persistent firmness jutting out from my body jumped in front of me, nothing touching it. I pushed back toward his face, wanting his mouth on me again, and he gripped my hips and dove back in, his tongue dragging flat and hot over me, teasing that he was going to put it inside.

Nothing in my life had prepared me for it, even when he penetrated me. But a warm, wet tongue on the most private spot on my body was a brand new feeling, soft where everything else had been blunt, and my whole spine arched off the tree. 

His stubble scraped the soft skin of my ass. His breath pushed out hot against my wet skin every time he came up for air, and then he pointed his tongue and pressed, and it slipped past the rim, actually inside me, tongue fucking me in little wet stabs while his fingers dug into my butt cheeks and held me open for it.

I leaned my forehead against the bark and moaned out at the river. There was no palm clamped over my mouth this time, and no thin door with my mom behind it, just water and dark and a grown man on his knees with his face buried in my ass. It was just us.

I had just squirted down his throat, but I was still hard, and I was starting to throb, and that go-again urge flared up in me stronger than I had ever felt it, like my body understood this man was a limited-time offer and refused to waste one minute of the sensations of him on me. I reached down past my bunched-up jeans, wrapped my hand around myself, and stroked slowly, still sensitive, and I hissed at my own touch. Behind me he hummed into my hole and I felt the vibration travel up into my stomach. My knees dipped again, and I kept stroking.

He pressed his tongue in and out, and in firm circles until my legs shook, getting rougher, and softer, then rougher again, his spit running warm down onto my balls. It was heaven, behind a sycamore tree with my pants around my thighs and my dick in my fist.

I got a question out between breaths, turning my cheek against the bark so I could halfway see him down there.

"Is this your first time licking a guy's ass?"

He pulled off me with a wet smack, and I felt him grin against my cheek before I heard it in his voice.

"Yup," he said. "You're my first boy."

I liked that answer, whether or not it was true. I was just some kid who showed up in his clinic with a skateboard, shooting my shot with the hot doctor, and I ended up getting my first time with a man.

He grunted as he pushed so hard with his face that I almost fell over. His tongue pushed into me even deeper, hungrier, and I stroked myself and rocked my ass back onto his face, greedy, chasing it.

He stood up behind me and I felt the whole length of him settle against my back through his pants, his shirt buttons cold on my spine, his bulge riding hard against my bare ass. His breath came down hot on my neck, and his stubble, still wet, scraped under my ear.

I heard his zipper, and then a small plastic crinkle by my hip.

"Brought this from the office," he said, holding a little foil packet of lube up where I could see it.

"You planned this," I said.

"I plan everything." He tore it open with his teeth and spit the removed piece of foil onto the ground.

I turned my face back to the bark and leaned forward and pushed my ass out for him as far as the jeans around my ankles allowed, and my hole was actually fluttering against the night air, clenching and releasing on nothing, greedy already. The lube hit me cold, and two of his fingers spread it over me and dipped in briefly, and then the blunt heat of his bare dick lined up against me, and I gripped the bark and made myself breathe.

He pushed in slowly.

He went slower than he had on the exam table, one long patient press inward that opened me up around him bit by bit while his hands held my hips tight, completely still. The stretch flared and melted, flared and melted, and with my legs pinned together by my own jeans he felt thicker than he ever had, my thighs squeezing all of me tight around him. When his hips finally pressed flush against my ass he stopped there and breathed, and I stood pinned between a tree and a doctor, stuffed completely full of him under the open sky. 

His hands left my hips and came up under my shirt, both of them, flat and warm on my stomach, and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back in against his chest until there was no space left between us anywhere. I stood up, only able to balance because he was holding me as his palms spread wide over my ribs, one riding up to rest over my heart, which was slamming hard enough that he had to feel it, and he held me like that with his whole body, chin hooked over my shoulder, his breath rolling down past my collar as he slammed into me hard.

He slowed down until he was still, just breathing me in for a moment, buried inside me all the way. I had never felt so held in my life. Nobody had ever wrapped me up like that, no girl, definitely nobody with a dick buried in me to the base. His forearms lay heavy across my stomach and his heat soaked through the back of my shirt, and all the bracing I had been doing against the bark drained out of my arms. 

Anybody could have come down that path, some lady with her dog, anybody, and instead of scaring me, that somehow made it better. He had picked this spot. And he had me. My body understood that nothing bad could reach me while those arms stayed where they were.

"You alright?" he breathed into my ear.

"Don't move yet," I said. "Just... stay."

He stayed. He squeezed me tighter instead, fingers pressing into my ribs, and through his chest I could feel his heartbeat thudding against my spine, going as fast as mine.

"There you go," he said into my ear. "That's a good boy."

Then he fucked me again, quickly like a rabbit, then slowly, pushing hard like he was trying to go as deep as he could. Long, even strokes, angled down, and none of it hurt, not one push, because the man was a professional in every sense I had discovered so far. It was a real, mature cock, doing what a mature cock apparently does, finding my spot at will and dragging over it on every stroke, while some jock my age would have just jackhammered away and hoped for the best. This was what sex was supposed to feel like. I understood that now, being taught it by a thirty-five-year-old with lube from his own clinic.

My dick bounced in front of me with every clap of his hips, smacking up against my stomach, untouched, but still drooling a thin string that swung and snapped off into the dark. I peeled one hand off the bark and wrapped it around myself, and the first squeeze punched a moan out of me. I tried to set my own pace and lasted maybe three pulls before I quit, because his hips were running my whole body by then, so I matched him instead, fist tugging in rhythm with every deep stroke, letting him fuck the strokes out of me while I just tried to hold on.

His grip on my hips tightened and loosened with every stroke, and I could feel the passion in it, this big mysterious man squeezing everything he felt into me instead of saying it. I still knew almost nothing about him. But his dick was talking to me now, deep in my guts. He wanted me. My body felt so good wrapped around him, warm and stuffed and built for exactly this, and I pushed back onto him and took it, drunk on being the object of lust for a man that hot.

He sped up again, gradually. His breathing roughened behind me, his fingers dug into my hips hard enough to leave a mark, and the bark bit into my palm as he drove me up onto my toes with each stroke. My knees dipped, then dipped again and stayed weak, until it was mostly his grip and the tree keeping me upright while he pounded me, and I felt like I surrendered completely to him.

His rhythm suddenly broke apart. He slammed in deep and held there, his chest flattening me into the bark, and I felt him swell and pulse as he unloaded into me, hot throbs pumping into my guts while his groan rolled out over my shoulder into the dark. My fist sped up on my own dick and I squirted a second time, thinner ropes spattering the roots of the sycamore, my hole clamping down on him through every pulse of it. He stayed buried in me and breathed roughly against my neck while my legs shook, and we both started laughing.

He pulled my jeans up for me himself, tucking my dick and balls away for me gently, both of us laughing harder as my legs wobbled, and he did the button and the zipper for me. His load shifted in me on my first step, and I felt the fluid inside me. I clenched down and kept it in. He lifted my board off the roots and carried it under one arm, and I took his other hand, and we walked back up the path with our fingers laced, a real doctor man and the boy he had just finished eating out, passing under the street lamps together. My palms still carried the print of the bark on them, and I rubbed my thumb across his knuckles, over the ring.

His car was cool and quiet and smelled like leather. He drove with one hand and dropped the other onto my thigh at the first light, and it stayed there the whole ride, heavy, covering the span of my thigh. I sat on his cum the entire drive and did not mind one bit.

He pulled over a block from my house with the headlights already off.

"A block away," I said. "Smart."

"I plan everything."

He kissed me once across the console, quick, his stubble scraping my chin, and I got out with my board and watched him pull away.

I walked the block slowly, feeling the mess in my ass with every step, my hole sore in that deep, good place I had spent all week trying to find again against my school desk. I came around the hedge and our kitchen light was still on, yellow through the curtains.

"Damn," I muttered to myself.

She was up. And I was about to walk in bark-scraped, combed apart, late from Andrew's imaginary dinner, with a doctor's load in my ass and no story ready. My mom would have questions. 

But I still smiled to myself, because even a nosy interrogation wasn't going to change what had happened to me tonight.