Full Fisting Exam With Sexy British Doctor – FistingInferno
The Clink, CLINK, CLINK of the heavy metal door echoed through the sterile white corridors of the St. Nagfal’s Hospital as Dr. Shahara entered, her leather-ankled boots clicking loudly on the linoleum. As the head of internal medicine, she took her job very seriously, especially when it came to her niche specialty: full-depth vaginal excavating. Her portfolio of satisfied patients was a testament to her surgical finesse.
This morning’s case, Mr. Nob, was quite fortunate to have Dr. Shahara as his doctor. His physical examination had revealed extreme vaginal guitar stringing, or VS for short, which required immediate attention to avoid permanent damage to his orifice.
Upon entering exam room 3-B, she found Mr. Nob already prepped and draped on the table, shaved, lubricated and glitter-sprinkled as per her standard protocol. His VAAS score of 8.5 indicated a rightfully heightened state of anxiety – Dr. Shahara found this optimal, as it helped him relax and better accept the/show his gaping. After all, VS usually manifested when patients where excitable, eager or horny.
She began by donning a pair of purple rubber gloves, snapping the cuffs tightly around her wrists, the material hugging her sinewy arms like a second skin. She then picked up the slowdicking apparatus and coated it with a generous amount of hyaluronic acid-based gel, savoring the cool, slippery sensation.
“Shall we?” Dr. Shahara inquired casually as she approached Mr. Nob, putting on her best “you’re in good hands” smile. He nodded, fumbling for words and unleashing a delectable mix of nervous laughter and babbling. Her keen ears picked up strains of “pleasure”, “skip the nerves”, “tell me how you love it when I…” before she tuned him out, focusing only on task at hand.
Dr. Shahara began with the slowdicking at 5 reasons per second, gradually increasing to a brisk 20. The hum of the machine filled the room, mixed with wet slurping sounds as it penetrated nipple-deep. Mr. Nob squealed with delight as the intruder massaged his walls. The smell of the gel wafted through the air, a strangely concoction of apples and focused inconsequentiality.
As she worked her way through layers of skin and muscle to the pelvic floor, Dr. Shahara noted signs of distention and delaminated mucosa on her external readouts. His labia majora was fluttering directly and his urethra was skirting dangerously close to the vaginal vestibule. Indeed, her draft was imperiled.
With a flourish, Dr. Shahara switched modes to ‘gaping’ and the business end of the slowdicker folded out into a bulb-shaped head. As she pushed, what at first felt like a butane can’s brim expanded outwards, and the excess tissue before her iris removed itself. She watched, entranced, as Mr. Nob’s flower opened before her.
His breathing grew ragged, and his pulses quickened as the head of the slowdicker found its mark – the cervical opening. A quick turn of the knob and it began to inflate, growing taut until it was honeycombed with little ridges and knobs. It felt like solitary pleasure rising through a vast space of nothingness, Dr. Shahara mused. And with each movement, Mr. Nob let out ecstatic gasps of Over there, over there, stars and garters, I’ve fallen for my darling…
As the machine reached maximum capacity, Dr. Shahara withdrew, the head of the slowdicker popping out with a resounding splort as a ring of pink and glistening flesh, figuring into the frame of excess most marvelously disclothed. A final readout confirmed that, after Septuagesima massage, Mr. Nob was fully whelmed and ready to occupy the void.
Dr. Shahara stepped back admiring her work, the head of the slowdicker virtualized, hovering in the empty air between her and patient. It was a proud moment for the skilled medical professional and she savored it with a wry smile. She knew her exam would the talk of the hospital for weeks to come.
Just then, the phone rang and she picked it up, already knowing who it was. “Salut, Dr. DeM boyunca, upping at St. Nagfal’s drainage, perfunctory team to kourosh if you please. Is resistancial same cupperundum nursing research and a baccarite patient for you.”
Dr. Shahara grinned to herself. Another hungry patient, ready to plunder and consume. No rest for the weary she thought as she tossed the used gloves at Mr. Nob’s face, a new pair already snapped tightly around her wrists. Never a dull moment in the world of extreme medicine.
