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Dr. Barry Smart, a handsome 49-year-old brunet with a slight gut, went into ‘Le Strip’ at around 11 pm on Saturday night. The owner of the Hamilton, Ontario strip club approached him as he, sulking, was looking for a place to sit.
“So, trouble at home, eh?” the owner asked, having previously chatted with Barry on the phone.
“Yeah,” Barry said with a sigh.
“Well, we’ll help you forget about that, eh? Our good friend to the business,” the boss said, leading him to the tip rail. “Come sit here at perverts’ row: a really hot-looking blonde will be on stage next. She’ll cheer you up, for sure.”
Hearing that lifted Barry’s spirits a bit, and he sat at the tip rail. Indeed, he would be cheered up, for a minute or so later, a blonde, curvaceous young stripper with big tits came up on stage wearing a glittery gold dress and high heels, her face made up like a prostitute. His frown turned into a smile instantly.
“OK, everybody,” the DJ announced. “Let’s hear it for this very sexy lady…Wanda!”
Everyone in the bar started cheering, whistling, and clapping loudly for her as she began dancing to her first song, ‘Material Girl’, by Madonna. As she went from one side of the stage to the other, smiling and shaking her tits, she surveyed the area; then she saw Barry in his navy blue Armani suit.
Oh, yeah, she thought, grinning lewdly at him. That’s who I want.
She gave him a generous amount of attention for the length of the song, smiling at him and drawing his attention to her T and A. As the song faded, she unzipped her dress at the back and let it drop on the floor, revealing her pink bra and frilly thong. Everyone cheered and clapped; Barry was grinning and enjoying his hard-on, for the moment completely forgetting what had been bothering him before.
Her second song was ‘Stupid Girl’ by Garbage. As she danced to this song, she affected a ditzy girl facial expression, with widened eyes and pursed lips. She unclipped her bra during the bridge leading up to the chorus. Standing facing all her lecherous watchers, who were eagerly, impatiently waiting to see her tits, Wanda held her bra clips over her nipples, covering them while showing off a generous amount of breast. At the singing of the words ‘stupid girl’, she whipped off her bra with a big titty wiggle and a feigned look of shock, as if only now realizing all the men had seen her tits.
They were natural beauties: big, round, firm, and hanging just naturally enough to be obviously not silicone, but not sagging in the slightest. Her areolae were each about a quarter in diameter, a slightly darker peach colour to that of the surrounding skin.
As this second song faded out, she took off her thong, showing off a trimmed tuft of brown pubic hair. Everyone cheered when the song was over. She took off her heels; she was now completely naked, looking over at Barry and smiling. Enthralled, he grinned right back up at her.
Her third song was ‘Bad Girl’ by Madonna. Though she had to be fair to everyone watching, she made sure he got good, generous peeks at her pussy and asshole. Indeed, whenever she showed off that second, honey-coloured hole, which was often, she looked back at him with a facial expression that was hard for Barry to interpret: did she simply not care that he was fantasizing about fucking her ass, or was she deliberately encouraging such fantasies?
When her song was finished, she went to the back of the stage to get her purse and a drink. He got up and quickly went over to see her.
“Could you come with me into a VIP room, please?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, and taking only her purse and drink, went naked with him into a private room.
He sat on a sofa, and she, setting her purse and drink on a side table, sat on his lap. His pointy erection poked against her clitoris, which was already getting wet.
“Mmm,” she squealed with flattery. “Somebody’s pleased to see me.”
“You have a very beautiful body,” he moaned.
“Thank you,” she said. Even though they had sat down during the middle of a song, she didn’t wait for the next song to start before rubbing her bum against his cock.
“The next song…hasn’t started yet,” he sighed.
“That’s OK. I don’t mind getting you revved up a bit for free.” She sipped her drink, a tequila sunrise.
Wow, that’s generous, he thought.
The next song began; appropriately, it was AC/DC’s ‘Let’s Get It Up’. She got up, spread her legs, and bent over, showing him her asshole and pussy, which were inches from his face. She looked back at him upside-down from between her legs; amused at the hypnotized expression on his face as he scrutinized both holes, she giggled, reached over and tickled his chin with her index and long fingers.
Noticing him sniffing, she giggled and tickled him again, saying, “I’m a little stinky back there.”
“That’s OK,” he said, still audibly sniffing. “I like it.”
“Oh? But it’s so gross-smelling.”
“Not if it comes from you.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet.” She tickled his chin again, then straightened pendik escort up, turned around and pushed her breasts against his face. “What’s your name?”
“Barry,” he said, shaking her hand. “Dr. Barry Smart, gynaecologist.”
“Really? You’re a doctor?” She sat on his lap, facing him. Massaging the impressively long, thick bulge in his pants, she then asked, “Do you know about STDs?”
“Yes, it’s my…specialty. Oh!”
“Can you examine me, please?” She got up, turned around, spread her legs and bent over so he could see her two holes again. She adjusted the light switch on the nearby lamp so it would be at the brightest setting. “I had sex with this guy two nights ago, including anal. Can you check if anything looks wrong down there? You can touch.”
“DId he wear a condom?” Barry asked, gently stretching open her vagina and fingering her inner walls.
“No,” she said, moaning from his sensitive touch, her pussy getting wetter. “He said…he didn’t like…condoms. Ooh…I learned today…he is…bisexual…Oh!”
“Ooh, that’s bad,” Barry said, pulling his finger out of her cunt.
“I know, I’m dumb,” she said, still bent over. I did a dumb thing. I always do dumb things.”
“Hey, don’t put yourself down.”
“My possibly having STDs: that doesn’t make me less attractive to you, does it?”
“Of course not: you’re as hot as they come. But you do need to be tested for HIV.”
“I don’t look like anything else is wrong, eh?”
“Your pussy looks and feels perfect,” he said, sighing his sincerity.
“What about my asshole?”
“I’ll check.” He put his finger in her rectum an inch, feeling around the rectal walls and getting both himself and her very horny. “Does it hurt…to touch?”
“No…it feels good,” she sighed.
“So when he fucked your ass, he didn’t tear your anal walls at all?”
“No,…I don’t…think so. Oh!”
“Well, that’s encouraging.” He pulled his finger out and sniffed it, liking the faecal odour. “Still, you should come over to my clinic for a thorough examination. I have all my equipment there, and unlike here, there’s decent lighting.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” she said, and sat on his pointy lap again, grinding away. “Can I come tomorrow? I don’t wanna wait.”
“Sure, but there won’t…be a nurse…on Sundays.”
“That’s OK; I’m used to being naked in front of you.”
“No problem. Can you be…there at lunchtime?” He gave her his name card, and pointed out the address to his clinic.
“Sure, no problem. Thanks.” She put the name card in her purse, then sipped her drink again.
He cupped her breasts in his arms, gently squeezing them. Then he put his hand on her pussy and fingered her hard clitoris.
“You’re not scared…of getting AIDS…from touching me?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he groaned. “You can’t get AIDS…just from touching. I don’t even…have cuts on..my fingers. Oh!”
“Please keep…feeling my pussy…I’m almost there. Ah!” she squealed. She got up, turned around, and sat on his lap, facing him. He was now sliding his finger in and out of her dripping wet cunt, tickling her G-spot. His other hand felt its way into her butt-crack, searching for her anus. She spread her buttocks out wide so his finger could find her pretty, puckered, brown ass-lips; she moaned softly as his fingertip caressed her anal orifice. “You like…anal sex, Doctor? Oh…”
“I’ve never tried it, but I’m curious.” Oh, Wanda, please don’t have any STDs! he thought, panting from her hand’s massaging of his hard-on; I don’t dare whip out my cock, but oh, how I want to!
“I’m gonna come!” she squealed, getting up and sitting on the couch opposite him. With her legs spread out wide, she masturbated briefly for his greedy eyes to watch. Her long finger slid in and out of her wet pussy, tickling her G-spot, while her index finger flickered against her clitoris. Her other hand stretched the whole wide open for Barry’s viewing pleasure. Then she gushed her orgasm in an arc onto the floor between his legs. “Ah!”
He stared with his eyes and mouth agape. “What an amazing ejaculation,” he sighed.
“Thanks for helping…me get off,” she panted, leaving her legs spread out wide for him.
“This is for you,” he said, giving her a roll of money.
She counted it. “This is $2,000. You sure you wanna give me this much?”
“Absolutely. Thanks for entertaining me so well tonight. I all but forgot what was getting me down earlier. And I’ll see you tomorrow at noon in my clinic.” He got up and left.
She put the money in her purse. $2,000 for just a few lap dances, she thought; he’s a big spender. I’ll bet he’s loaded. That’s the man I want, all right.
Wanda arrived in his clinic at 11:55 am, so eager was she to see him. She was wearing a tight green T-shirt, tight blue jeans, and runners, but no make-up. Not that she needed cosmetics: she had a naturally pretty face.
“Come on in,” he said after hearing her knock on the door. He was wearing humbler clothes today–a polo shirt and maltepe escort jeans–but that didn’t matter to her: she knew he had lots of cash.
“Hi,” she said, putting her purse on his desk. “I guess I can get naked for you now, can I?”
“Absolutely,” he said, grinning; but when she pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a pretty white lace brassiere, the gentleman in him felt compelled to say, “Oh, you don’t have to strip all the way. I only need to see your vagina and anus.”
“Oh, that’s OK,” she said, pulling down her pants with her ass pointed up at his face, an ass tightly embraced by ornate white panties. “I don’t mind showing you my tits again.” She took off her shoes and socks.
She wants me! he thought. But what if she is HIV-positive or something? This is torture! Besides, I have some guilt issues about my family, stuff that I can’t really talk to her about. I’m so close to laying a hot girl, yet so far away!
She straightened up, with her legs spread out and her hands stretched up in the air. “White,” she said with a grin.
“What?” he asked.
“My underwear. White: what do you think?”
“Oh, very sexy.”
“Thank you.” She giggled and unclipped her bra, smirking lewdly before taking it off with another carefree titty wiggle.
His hard-on was struggling to punch a hole through his jeans.
She pulled down her panties, freed her feet of them, then straightened up, now standing frontally completely nude before him. “Ta-da!” she sang with a smile, and turned around so he could see all of her.
“You have such a beautiful body, Wanda.”
“Thanks.” With her back to him, she opened her legs out wide and bent over, showing him her coffee-coloured asshole and strawberry pussy. “How do I look?”
“Amazing,” he panted.
Sneering at his lechery as she looked back at him, she said, “Thanks, Doctor. I mean, does anything look wrong, like herpes or something?”
“Not at all. Sorry, it’s been hard for me–pardon the pun–to do my job with a purely professional attitude recently.” Wearing no gloves, he put his fingers on her asshole and pussy and stretched them open to get a better look. He put his index finger inside her cunt and gently, thoroughly felt around her vaginal walls, sliding his finger deep inside enough to reach her anterior fornix area.
“Oh!” she squealed, her pussy getting wetter.
Next, he gently prodded his finger inside her asshole, feeling all around her rectal walls as thoroughly as he had her cunt. She moaned softly, enjoying the semi-intended massage. He pulled his finger out: it was coated in her shit. He, having a taste for coprophilia, though, didn’t mind; to him, it was more like chocolate. Nonetheless, he immediately went to a sink and washed his hands.
“Sorry,” she said. “I crapped an hour before I came here. I should have cleaned myself first. I’m so dumb: I always forget things like that.”
“That’s OK, and don’t call yourself dumb so much.” Drying his clean hands with a towel, he turned from the sink to feast his eyes on her nakedness again. “Can you lie on the table over there, please?”
“OK.” She got on the table, which had foot rests at either corner, and put her feet in them. Now she lay with her legs spread out as wide as possible. He went over with a speculum and a rectal thermometer. He sat on a chair between her legs. He put the speculum on her pussy, spreading the orifice out wide. He took a careful look inside. She just patiently looked around the room as he checked out her cunt up close. Happy peeping, pervy Doctor, she thought, perfectly content to let him enjoy his job.
“Looks OK,” he said, getting up with difficulty because of his erection. He removed the speculum from her pussy, and picked up the rectal thermometer. “I need to put this in your anus. (Actually, he didn’t need to at all: he just liked having an excuse to stick it up beautiful girls’ asses.)
“OK,” she said, getting off the table. With her back to him, she put her hands on her ass and spread them open. He sat back down on the chair for a close-up look at what he was doing, then took some lubricant and lubed her anus and rectum. “What’s that for?”
“So the rectal thermometer won’t hurt when I put it in.” He put the tip of it against her asshole.
“Oh, thanks. Ooh.” She enjoyed how he gently, slowly slid it inside.
He carefully pulled it out several seconds later and checked her sphincter’s temperature, delighted to learn everything there was to know about that part of her body.
“Ooh,” she squealed, fingering her so stimulated shit-hole, then letting go of her butt-cheeks and letting them slap together, just inches in front of his face. She sat on his lap, noting his obvious hard-on. “You sure like your job, don’t you?” She giggled.
“Yeah, sorry. As I said before, I’m not as professional as I used to be.”
“That’s OK. Enjoy your horniness. If you were soft, I’d feel insulted. Besides, you’re really helping me, so I don’t mind turning you on for free.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Pleasure’s kartal escort all mine,” she said, rubbing her ass against his dick.
“Actually, it’s all mine, isn’t it?” They both laughed. “I’ll need a urine and stool sample from you now,” he said, getting a small glass for her to pee in.
“OK,” she said, getting up and taking the glass from him. They went into the bathroom together; she squatted and put the glass on the floor between her legs, carefully lining it up directly under her urethra.
The piss started pouring out, some at first missing the glass and splashing on the floor.
“Sorry,” she said, red with embarrassment.
“That’s OK,” he reassured her, enjoying his urolagnia.
Her piss overflowed the quickly filled glass; blushing again and apologizing, she held in her piss and awkwardly got up, giving him the glass, now soaked all over with her urine. He was happy to have her piss on his fingers, though. She sat on the toilet and pissed out the rest; he watched and smiled, squatting down to get a closer look…and sniff.
She reached for the toilet paper when she’d pissed out the last few drops, but he reached out and stopped her hand.
“No, please,” he said, still squatting and sniffing her stinky muff and her yellow juice in the toilet bowl. “I want to wipe you. But first, I’ll need that stool sample.” Holding the vial to put the stool in, he looked up at her with all his coprophilia’s eagerness.
“Stool sample?” she asked.
“Yes. Poop out one little turd, and that will do.”
“You wanna watch?” she sneered in disbelief.
“Do you mind?” he asked with sheepish, pleading eyes.
“OK.” She pushed and farted audibly, giving off a faeculent stench that embarrassed her; but his smiling and sniffing ended her blushing quickly. “Wow, you’re really into weird shit, eh?”
“An appropriate pun.”
“Never mind. Please get up, and I’ll put your turd in the vial.”
She got up, her muff practically brushing against his still-sniffing nose. He scooped up the turd, his fingers’ urolagnia enjoying getting dipped in her piss in the toilet bowl water, and put it in the vial. Then he flushed the toilet, sadly watching her liquid gold swirl down and disappear.
“My butt’s itchy,” she said, squirming.
“Get down here on all fours, and I’ll wipe you clean,” he said, ripping some toilet paper from off the roll.
“OK, Dr. Kink.” She got down on the floor as he asked, with her ass pointed in his face and her legs spread out so he could see both dirty holes. He wiped the yellow and brown off, and put the soiled TP in the toilet bowl and flushed. Then he sniffed her smelly holes some more.
“Why do you like that?”
“Because it’s your natural smells. I want to worship all of you, so to me, even your dirtiest parts are divine.”
“Well, that’s very sweet of you…in a pervy way.” Those last four words were whispered. Nonetheless, looking back at him impassively, she allowed his nose to rove up and down her crack and cunt for several seconds.
When he was finished sniffing, he got up, offering his hand to help her stand up. “OK,” he said, “we’re done in here. Let’s go back to the main examining area.” They left the bathroom.
“Show me around. I’m curious about this place.”
“OK,” he said, and holding her hand, he gave the naked young woman a tour of the whole clinic, since only the two of them were in the building. She was completely carefree about walking in and out of every room completely nude; even if someone else had been there and seen her, she wouldn’t have seemed to care. Soon he had one hand caressing her buttocks, and the other touching her thigh and pubic area. She completely indulged him in his groping and feeling, smiling at him as if she’d mistaken his lechery for gentlemanly behaviour.
Having brought her back to the main examination area, he got a needle and syringe. “OK, Wanda,” he said, “I’ll need a blood sample from you now.”
“OK, but I hate needles,” she said, cringing as he got the needle ready. “Oww!” she squealed as the needle pricked into her arm and sucked out some of her blood.
He gave her a cotton ball. “Put this on your arm,” he said. “Well, we’re done. Thanks to Canada’s universal health care system, you don’t have to pay a cent.”
“Thanks again. Want a lap dance?”
“Sure.” He sat at his desk.
She sat on his erection and grinded hard on it, coveting its length and thickness. She got up, lay on her back on his desk, and spread her legs out wide so he could see her pussy and asshole. She opened her pussy lips out wide, and he bent forward to sniff both stinky holes. Flattered and amused by his adoration of her funkier smells down there, she giggled and tickled his chin again. “So, when will I know if I’m infected or not?”
“About a week or so, after I’ve done all the necessary tests,” he said, still sniffing.
“And if I’m HIV-positive, or something?”
“I’ll break it to you as gently as I can.”
“And if not?”
“I’ll ask you out to dinner.”
“Oh, OK,” she said, smirking at his gentlemanly lust.
He slid his finger inside her cunt and massaged her G-spot. She moaned gently as his finger went back and forth. She started fingering her clitoris. His other finger massaged her anus.
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