Fan Service Health Care 2

I sat in my office and eyed that naive 30-year-old slut, Sara, from head to toe. Unmarried, a C-cup, beautiful, plump tits that were already jiggling like two ripe melons under her thin exam gown. She had no idea what was about to happen. “Just a routine check-up for skin cancer,” she’d said, with that stupid, innocent smile. As she undressed and knelt on the exam table, spreading her ass cheeks wide apart with both hands without us even having to ask her to, I grinned inwardly. There it was. Right around her tight, rosy asshole: the engraved Queen of Spades symbol. Black, sharp, the clear mark of a cheap white asshole whore who lives only for cocks—and not for those of normal men.

“Look at this horny slut,” I muttered as I picked up the camera. My pants were already tight. But first, the documentation. For the file. For the “birthmarks.” I pretended this was a perfectly normal dermatological examination. “Stay like that, Sara,” I said in a friendly, professional tone, “I need to photograph your birthmarks; it’s standard procedure for these kinds of exams.”

Click. Click. Click.

I photographed every inch of her naked body. First her plump C-cup tits, hanging heavily downward, the hard nipples already standing at attention with lust. Then her flat stomach, the smooth thighs, the wet, glistening pussy, already dripping like a cheap hooker. And of course her ass—I zoomed in extra close on the Queen of Spades tattoo around her asshole, taking close-ups of every little wrinkle, of the way her hole opened slightly, as if it were hungry. “Just for the file, Sara,” I lied dirty, while I uploaded the pictures directly to the server. Into the private folder “Horny Women—Employee Motivation.” Every asshole in the office would be able to jerk off to this unmarried slut later. Everyone would see what Sara looked like naked under her prim clothes: tits, pussy, asshole, all documented for a little lunchtime wanking. A beautiful, young, unsuspecting woman—reduced to a few horny photos for the guys. That’s exactly how women like her should be treated.

She lay there, legs spread, her asshole still on display, and actually thought this was medical. The stupid cunt.

Now it was time for the actual “examination.” I brought in another colleague. Two holes, two black cocks.

Me first. I pushed my hard cock slowly but mercilessly into her tight asshole. It was warm, tight, sucking—the Queen of Spades tattoo stretched with every inch I thrust deeper. In. Out. Deeper. Harder. I fucked her and acted like it was a camera while she moaned softly. We played a game. She acted clueless, and I acted like I was a professional. “Relax, Sara,” I said mockingly, “your birthmarks are all documented… now comes the deep examination.” A single brutal thrust, all the way in. Sara screamed, her legs trembling, but she stayed lying there like the obedient slut she was. I came in her asshole and pretended it was lotion.

Then we switched.

He pushed the thick, warm head of his cock slowly but mercilessly deep into her tight pussy. Fifteen slow, deep thrusts. Every single one stretched her wet walls, rubbing hard and precisely against her G-spot. Sara trembled harder and harder, her thighs quaking, her breath coming in gasps. Then she came. Hard. Uncontrollably. Her whole body twitched wildly, her pussy clenched like crazy around the thick camera, and a long, clear gush of her horny pussy juices squirted out, running over the couch and dripping onto the floor.

I remained completely professional. “That happens sometimes, Sara,” I said calmly and condescendingly. “No big deal. We’ll just keep going.”

He thrust his cock deep into her twitching, squirting pussy a few more times before “flushing” that canal as well with a thick, hot load of cum. Sara sat there panting and dripping, her legs spread wide, her face glowing red with shame and lust. The two of us black doctors exchanged a brief, satisfied glance and nodded.

“All done,” I said kindly. “You can get dressed again, Sara. Try to keep the fluid inside as long as possible.”

Sara stood up, her legs trembling, her pussy and asshole still warm and slippery from the lotion. She felt used, examined, and at the same time incredibly horny.

As she was about to leave, I added, “You shouldn’t wait so long until your next appointment, Sara.”

She left the office with a bright red face and a guilty conscience—and a slight, telltale tugging in her asshole and pussy. She would come back, even if she didn’t know why.