Go get your eyes checked

You wake up what feels like a year later. Clearly, you're not quite as fit yet as you'd hoped, and the sun appears to have just risen. All that sleep has given you a slight headache - a real one, this time - and you decide to nurse it with some coffee as you flick the tv on to watch the morning news.

"... the young resident doctor's quick thinking is credited with saving the lives of the infant, who had almost already died when the family reached the hospital. We go to our reporter, Jennifer Maslowe, live with the hospital director..."

Well, that's nice. Nothing like a wholesome start to the morning, even though you have zero idea what the story's about.

The director seems very pleased to inform the public of the great news. He can't stop gushing about the doctor, who is apparently involved in some bureaucratic obligatory procedure at the moment. The reporter - Maslowe, a minor local celebrity - is happy to oblige his speedtalking, expecting to get the real star of the interview up for grabs shortly.

Eventually, the door opens, and a smattering of cameras welcome the doctor out... and what the heck, it's Janelle!

Your interest goes from mild to super spicy in an instant. Janelle is a bit flustered and nervous, clearly not used to this attention, and she appears to prefer the relative safety of the hospital routine to having to form answers in front of a live audience.

Nobody but you appears to be noticing that she's still glowing.

You look through the slightly awkward interview with the heroine, still not really sure what she actually did - apart from saving a life - until the news anchors move to a story about a dog. Oh, that's right - you promised to text her.

"Hey Janelle, just saw you on tv! That's incredible!! So glad for you! Just wanted to let you know as I promised that I'm home and I'm doing much better now. Take care / John"

There, that looks good. You don't expect her to be able to reply any time soon - and her inbox is probably absolutely overflowing by now. It's true, though: you do feel much better, especially now that the caffeine is kicking in.

Obviously, you're not going back to work today. Your boss is great and your coworkers are chill - they all want you to recover for a couple of days first anyway. So your plan of action for now is basically to find out what the fuck is wrong with you.

Truth to be told, you haven't quite stopped assuming insanity yet. But you do know that several things have been really, really weird since you woke up in that hospital bed:

• Three people have started having various levels of seemingly unprompted sex with you.
• Onlookers have not considered this weird in any way at all.
• After one of them orgasmed, she started glowing mysteriously.
• ... and now that person's on tv for saving somebody's life, which is probably unrelated but you're not ruling out anything at the moment.

There's also the problem that you do not wish to tell anyone about this specifically, lest they think you should be in an asylum. Logically, that means you can only test parts of the above in isolation and see if it's permanent, or if it was just temporary. After all, maybe you just happened across the sluttiest nurse and dreamt the part about Janelle? Maybe she was your doctor the night before?

But then again... why would you have her personal phone number in that case?...

Brushing that aside, you figure that you can't really just go around trying to have more spontaneous sex and see if that lands people on tv. So the only think you can try is probably your eyes, in case there's something wrong with them. At least that'll give you somewhere to start, and an excuse to test more things.

You take a quick shower before heading into town. Your penis keeps reminding you of yesterday's brief but insanely hot encounter, although you're a bit too weirded out to be wanting an orgasm.

The city centre is abuzz with people going about their daily routines. You're heading to an optometrist close to the busiest section of town, mostly because your dad is a friend of the owner, so you've met him and his wife plenty of times, and you went to them once when you needed some kind of eyesight certificate. It isn't really a normal optician's shop - they do offer glasses, but it's mostly the medical kind, and they have ophhto... ophhthla... ophtalmala... eye doctors on staff as well. That's according to plan - you do want a medical opinion, not just finding out that you're still not nearsighted.

Getting an appointment without having to wait for it should feel like a lucky break for you, but it doesn't really. You're used to being able to charm and flirt your way to simple favours such as a doctor squeezing you in between other patients, who had to book in advance and wait for days or weeks. For whatever reason, this has always worked - and you've mostly just chalked it down to the benefits of being a well-groomed, eloquent young man in modern society.

So when the hot young redheaded secretary and the doc agree to take some time off the latter's lunch break to perform a quick checkup, you're not surprised. The, uhm... oph-thal-mo-logist, you read on the reception desk - oh yes, that's the word - introduces herself as Leanne and leads you into a small but tastefully decorated room, filled with medical equipment that looks weird and expensive, and anatomical posters of the eye and its related part of the nervous system on the walls.

Leanne is about 40, maybe approaching 45, and sporting a flaxen bun probably held together by magic, as you don't see any pins in it. She's very fit, obviously taking great care of her body, and wearing clothes that accentuate her figure. You're not quite sure how she got into some of them, as just about all of her most protruding features look just about ready to burst out at any second. You can't help wondering if they're real - she looks the type who would enjoy augmenting her assets, and in her profession, you're well aware that she could easily afford it.

Of course, she also has glasses on - large black ones, rectangular in metal with slightly rounded corners. They draw attention to themselves and frame her face nicely - her amazing face, actually: faint traces of freckles, full red lips with lots of lipstick, but applied by someone who knew precisely when to stop before it turned into slathering. To finish it off, her eyes are perfectly symmetrical, and a light innocent blue that draws you in.

But there's nothing innocent about Leanne. She looks like a perfect fit for a "hottest librarian of the year" award, you think to yourself, as she bends over a little to adjust a setting on the chair you're supposed to be using.

"So," she says after seating you, "Mr. Doe, was it? You say you have been experiencing visual illusions lately and you wanted to get a professional opinion, is that right? Well, you did the right thing. It's always good to be certain. Could you please go into a bit more details about how this manifests?"

"Just John, please," you reply, before giving Leanne the quick rundown. You omit any details that you don't find relevant - like the intercourse, for instance. When she asks you about any head trauma, you say no. It's a bit of a lie, but you don't want her to just send you to the hospital. You also confirm that these "illusions", as she called them, are strictly optical and not auditory in nature. After a few minutes of talking, she tells you that she's going to run various tests, and reaches behind you to grab something attached to your seat, in order to bring it to eye level.

She's... very, very close, and she has to be aware of it. And it's not her face, either - no, you have Leanne's full cleavage in prime, first-row audience sight. It's absolutely astonishing how well she fits into that professional-looking piece of garment; that shirt is clearly not cheap, and it might just have been designed to hold every atom of her chest in place. In fact, you can't see any part of her bra, even though the opening goes way below the clavicle, exposing her sunburned skin.

And she has to doing that on purpose.

The tests are quick, and conclusive: there's nothing wrong with your eyesight, and nothing physical to explain the glowing you saw.

In a way, as much as you're glad to hear that, it's also a slight disappointment, since it means you're starting from scratch again.

Leanne turns around after setting the lights, the levels of which she'd changed several times during the procedures, to "normal" mode again. "I could refer you to a specialist, of course," she states, "but I honestly doubt it would be worth it. Frankly, I think the simplest reason is also the most likely."

She takes a few steps towards you and starts bending down. "You're just stressed out over something. You poor man... but I can help you get some of that stress relieved, and then we can talk about ways to give your eyes some rest."

As she says "relieved", she pinches the zipper of your trousers, and starts opening them up. Oh god, it's happening again! Well... not that you mind. A little stress relief from the hottest MILF you've seen today sounds like a perfect idea.

"Ooh my, what a perfect cock!" she exclaims after fishing your staff out. It's not yet fully hard - probably only because your head has been occupied with medicinal issues - and you're a bit confused, if flattered.

"Huh?" you say. "Really?"

"Oh yes!" Leanne offers, cooing over your penis as she holds it firmly in her grip. "I've seen my fair number of cocks, but this has to be the best one ever. It's just... perfect."

"Well, uhm... thank you?"

"Don't thank me just yet, boy. I'm just getting started."

There's something dark and husky in her voice, a commanding, domineering sound made all the more underlined by the sharp way she says "boy". This is a woman used to getting her way, who knows exactly how to get what she wants when she wants it. She doesn't have to request anything. She doesn't ask, she takes.

And she's damn freaking good at it. That grip on your penis is tight and warm, and she only moves it enough to make you want more without the lack of stimuli being painful. She's only edged you for a minute, and it already feels almost unbearable - but not quite, and it's so amazing.

Looking you straight into your eyes, Leanne moves your member to the side and takes your balls into her other hand. You were expecting her to hold them strongly as well, but she's not doing that at all - instead, she's caressing them softly, femininely, with attention given to every little spot. Then she moves her mouth to the bottom and licks along the side of the shaft up to just below the top, where she stops before it gets too good, only to get back down and do it all again, even more slowly.

Her tongue is well salivated, and her hand is starting to move up and down your length now - still slowly, but no longer stopping to keep you on perpetual edge or denying you pleasure.

After the fourth time - and not once breaking eye contact - Leanne keeps going all the way to the glans. You almost come right there, and she stops completely, giving you a lecherous smile to show that she's the one in charge, boy.

Her lips are parted and so close to your tip that you can feel her hot breath teasing you further. Normally, you'd have put a hand on her head and guided it down, but... you can't. Not with her. Not now.

The seconds go painfully slowly. All you want is that mouth. That relief. That woman. And she's not giving you that yet.

A minor wave of bliss shoots up your spine as Leanne takes a testicle into her mouth, while resuming her stroking. She's handling it carefully, moving it around without ever touching her teeth, and it's equal parts mindblowing and terrifying. You stop looking and just put your head back with your eyes closed to enjoy the immense sensations.

"That's right," she whispers. "Let your eyes ease... I'll take care of the rest..."

When I get older, you think, I'm getting a lover just like her - as if she would ever let anyone decide that.

With your eyesight stashed away, you can't see the red marks she leaves as she kisses her way up from the scrotum - but you can feel it, every last, warm little touch of her lips, until she gets all the way to the top and finally - finally - takes you in her mouth.

She lets you rest there for a moment, just the tip on her tongue, and her lips closely tightened around it. This time, though, she's not trying to keep you tense - no, she's switched to indulgence now, and you're so thankful for it.

In no time, Leanne bobs her head forward - slowly, and only for a short distance, but then she does it immediately again after going back. Each time, you get further inside of her, without losing the suction of her lips. When you start reaching the back of her throat, she just loosens it up to accomodate you - no hint of a gag reflex. Her right hand has been clutching you in a steadfast manner the whole time, but now she moves it to play with your ballsack again, with only her mouth to hold your member.

This isn't a fast blowjob. It's not the kind where speed is paramount and the slurping noises can be heard next door. No, this is the luxurious type, oral as an artform, in which tension is being built up expertly until it reaches the bursting point.

That point is getting closer, and Leanne finally adds its final constituent - her tongue, again, whirling leisurely around your glans while maintaining the airtight seesawing of her deliberately rhytmical deepthroating. By now, you're ready to cum just about whenever; it's all in Leanne's hands.

There's no huge build-up, not a single instant where she starts rapidly ****-fucking her own head like in a porn movie. Instead, she just induces it calmly, resolutely, by increasing the suction pressure ever so slightly until you erupt in her mouth.

The steady suction is perfect for your orgasm. You shoot load after load into Leanne's welcoming cavity while she keeps massaging your shaft with her lips and tongue to extract every last sperm. Then, after you cease firing, she draws to a halt as well, slowly decreasing her already calm speed until you're just resting in her service.

You stay there for the better part of a minute, until you feel a need to remove yourself. You open your eyes and look down, adjusting to the light again, and start talking. "Wow... that was absolu-..."

But you stop midway as you see Leanne's mouth, full of your lifeforce, with a few drops having started to run down her cheek as you withdrew yourself from their encompassment.

And of course... it's all glowing again.