Mark and Liz - the town doctors

I rose awkwardly, my body betraying me with a throbbing erection that made every movement clumsy. Stumbling to the door, I slowly unlatched it to reveal an attractive, middle-aged couple standing before me. They were dressed in the town's version of professional attire: the man had sleek black hair peppered with silver, and he wore tan golf shorts paired with a sharply pressed blue polo shirt. The woman, her auburn hair styled in a longish bob, wore a fitted pencil skirt stopping midway down her legs and a thin pastel blue blouse with several buttons left enticingly undone, hinting at a generous décolletage.

"Ah, hello?" I managed to say, the awkwardness of my state hidden behind a **** smile.

"Hello, young man. I'm Mark and this is Elizabeth. We're the town doctors. Your name is Sam, isn't it? And you're Emily's nephew?" Mark inquired warmly, his eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity.

"Hey. Yes, I'm Sam and Emily was my aunt. Would you like to come in?" I replied, my tone mixing politeness with the underlying urgency to escape the discomfort of my physical predicament.

"Sure," Mark said as he motioned for Elizabeth to join him. Inside the studio, they settled into antique chairs that lined the room, while I reluctantly returned to my seat at the computer, trying to discreetly hide my discomfort.

Mark leaned forward with a friendly smile, "What can I do for you guys, or should I call you doctors?"

"Sugar, you can just call me Liz," Elizabeth offered in a soft Southern lilt that added warmth to her words.

"Sam, in this town, everything is informal. There are no secrets here, and any semblance of formality might feel out of place. You haven't been here long enough to see it, but you'll get there soon enough. Just call me Mark," he said with an easygoing earnestness.

He continued, "We have a little custom, really—a physical for anyone new in town, just to make sure no unexpected problems come along. You look like a healthy young man, but a check-up never hurts. Would you be free to come in for a physical, maybe even today?"

Though this wasn’t the morning I’d planned, I found myself contemplating his words. I had nothing pressing on my schedule, and I couldn’t help but be intrigued by Liz; earlier, as she bent down to brush something from her shoe, the glimpse of her impressive cleavage left a tantalizing impression. At that moment, the persistent state of my arousal nagged at me again. "Why not? I don't have anything lined up. I can come right now and get it over with," I responded, my voice a mix of resolve and embarrassment.

"Great! That's the kind of willingness we love to see. Why don't you ride with us to the office, darlin'? We can all grab some lunch afterward," Liz said as she smoothly rose from her chair and approached me.

I took a longer look at her as she neared, recalling how earlier, the openness of her blouse had offered a forbidden glimpse of her ample, mature breasts. They moved enticingly with each step—bouncing just so—complementing her hourglass figure perfectly despite the hints of age. Her hips swayed with a seductive assurance, prompting me to approach and meet her halfway. Taking both my hands in hers, she appraised me with playful intent. "Sure thing, ma'am... I mean, Liz. I'm ready to go," I stammered, trying to steady my nervous excitement.

Her eyes, sharp and flirtatious, shifted downwards to the noticeable bulge in my shorts. "I see that you are," she teased quietly. "We can take care of that on the way."

"OK," I mumbled, feeling a mix of thrill and awkwardness as I trailed behind her, following Mark to the sleek BMW waiting on the curb.

"Mark, honey. Why don't you drive? I'm going to ride with our new friend in the back," Liz suggested with a playful glint in her eye.

Mark responded readily with a warm smile, "That's no problem at all. I'd be happy to drive," as he settled into the driver's seat.

And with that, the three of us stepped towards the car, the morning unfolding into an unexpected adventure that promised far more than just a routine physical.

Mark gripped the steering wheel at 10 and 2, his eyes scanning the road ahead, while Liz and I slid onto the cool leather of the back seat. "Oh, honey, you look like you're hurting something awful," Liz cooed, her voice sweet as honey as she reached over and unzipped my shorts with a practiced flick of her wrist. She pulled out my cock, stiff and throbbing with need. Not wasting any time, she leaned over, her breath hot on my skin, and began to softly lick the engorged head, her hand gently stroking my shaft and cupping my balls.

Her tongue was warm and wet, covering every inch of my cock with a slick layer of saliva. She worked her way down the shaft, her hand still moving in a steady rhythm, her fingers alternately stroking and fondling. I half-moaned, half-grunted, a guttural sound escaping from deep within my throat as my brain tried to process the intense pleasure. Just when I was beginning to adjust to the sensation, she wrapped her lips around my cock, taking it deeper into her mouth with each stroke, her hand twisting around the shaft.

The head of my dick hit the back of her throat, and her tongue licked the underside of my shaft, her hand playing with my balls. "Ungh... I'm gonna cum!" I cried out, my voice hoarse with pleasure. She only responded by taking my cock even deeper into her mouth, her throat tightening around my pulsating member, causing me to spray hot cum straight down her throat.

When I was finally spent, Liz came up for air, her lips glistening with saliva. She pulled a small cloth from her purse, the silk fabric brushing against my skin as she wiped her lips, then handed it to me so I could clean up. "I feel better, how about you?" she asked, her voice still sweet, but now with a hint of satisfaction.

"I feel much better. I'll be able to walk normally again," I replied, my body still tingling with the remnants of pleasure.

"I'm a medical professional and always willing to help a patient in need," Liz said, her voice now all business.

"I can vouch for that," Mark chimed in from the front seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

We pulled up in front of the medical clinic, a small, unassuming building with a red cross painted on the front door. I pulled my shorts back up, the fabric rough against my sensitive skin, and followed Liz and Mark inside. The clinic was just like any other, with a small waiting room filled with worn chairs, two exam rooms, an office with a large desk and several filing cabinets, and a room with a few pieces of diagnostic equipment.

Liz and Mark moved with practiced efficiency, their voices clipped and professional as they completed my physical. They measured my height, placing my back straight against a cool metal ruler, and my weight, the scale adjusting slightly under my feet. Liz wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm, the Velcro loud in the quiet room, and placed a thermometer under my tongue.

Then, with a gentle touch, Liz examined my testicles, her fingers probing and exploring, the latex of her gloves warm from her skin. It was more thorough than any exam I'd had before. Finally, with a quick prick of a needle, they drew my blood, the dark red liquid flowing into the vial. And with that, we were finished.