Diane's Examination

Diane bit her lip as she reclined against the cabinets, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. "Should I—should I take this off?" she asked, plucking at the jersey hem with nervous fingers. Tyler's throat went dry, 'Christ, she's actually considering it.'

"For thorough examination," he confirmed, voice rough. She nodded earnestly, already lifting the fabric.

Tyler licked his lips. Here was a MILF wearing nothing but her lingerie in front of her son's friend. Yet Tyler knew he could take the situation further. "Please remove your panties. I need to fuc- uhh, I mean take the pain away."

DianeDiane giggled nervously as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her black lace thong. "Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're helping me with this," she said, wiggling her hips as she slid the fabric down her thighs, exposing her neatly trimmed pussy.

The air between them grew thick with tension as Diane's panties pooled around her ankles. Tyler's mouth watered at the sight—she was completely bare now except for her bra barely covering her ample breasts. The scent of her arousal hit him like a punch to the gut.

"For accurate diagnosis," Tyler murmured, stepping between her spread thighs, "I'll need to palpate the affected area." His fingers hovered inches from her glistening folds. Diane whimpered, her hips lifting unconsciously toward his touch.

The first brush of his fingertips against her slick heat sent Diane arching off the counter, a startled gasp escaping her lips. Tyler watched, mesmerized, as her thighs trembled around him—so responsive, so eager despite her supposed innocence.

"Clinical assessment requires... deeper examination," he growled, sinking two fingers into her without warning. Diane's cry echoed through the kitchen as her nails scraped against the marble countertop, her hips jerking against his invading digits. "Oh God—that's—that's not how doctors—" she panted, cut off by his thumb circling her clit. Her protests dissolved into breathy moans as Tyler worked her with practiced precision, watching her breasts sway with each thrust of his fingers. Her bra straps slipping off her shoulders—she was coming apart under his touch, and they both knew it.

"T-Tyler—" she gasped, thighs clamping around his wrist as her back arched sharply, her nipples straining against her bra. "I think—oh God—something's *happening*—" Her voice cracked as her orgasm hit, body convulsing against his hand, her juices coating his fingers.

The front door slammed open—Kyle's sneakers squeaked on the tile. "Mom? You home—" His voice died as he rounded the corner. Diane froze mid-moan, eyes flying wide. Tyler didn't pull out. Instead, he curled his fingers *deeper*, watching Kyle's face twist in horrified recognition.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Kyle's gym bag hit the floor with a thud, his face cycling through shock, disgust, then fury in seconds. His hands clenched into fists as he took in the scene—his mom spread bare on the counter, Tyler's fingers buried inside her, both their faces flushed with unmistakable pleasure. "Get your fucking hands off her!" he roared, charging forward.

"No honey! It's for my health!" Diane gasped, still riding the aftershocks of her orgasm as she clutched Tyler's wrist—not to push him away, but to keep him right where he was. Her thighs trembled around his hand, her chest heaving as she met Kyle's horrified stare with dazed, pleading eyes. "Tyler's—he's studying to be a doctor!"