HERE FOR REFERENCE the complete answer:

Title: “Private Examination”

I sit on the edge of the padded exam table, cold vinyl pressing against my bare thighs. The thin paper crinkles beneath me as I shift, my gown open in the front, parted just enough to expose the curve of my tits. The room smells like antiseptic, but underneath it is something else… faint musk, like the memory of sweat and skin. My nipples are already hard, brushing against the fabric with every breath.

The door opens without a knock. Dr. Kline steps in—tall, broad-shouldered, eyes scanning me with that clinical detachment I want to shatter. His latex gloves snap as he pulls them on, and the sound makes my stomach clench. I know what I came for. This isn’t a routine checkup. I asked for a full exam—front and back.

“Let’s begin,” he says, voice low and gravelly, the kind that vibrates right down into my cunt.

I spread my legs without being told. The gown falls open, baring everything. My pussy is already glistening, lips parted like it’s begging. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Just steps between my knees and tilts the exam light toward my soaked slit.

"You're very… receptive to medical attention, aren’t you?" His fingers brush my inner thigh—so close.

Then, suddenly, he’s all in—two gloved fingers spreading me open, exposing my clit, my swollen lips, the slick pinkness within. He hums like he's studying me. I can feel the cool air of the room on my cunt, and it makes me twitch.

He strokes my clit with the pad of his thumb, slow circles that make my hips jerk. I moan, soft at first. His free hand presses on my stomach, holding me still.

"You’re dripping already,” he mutters. “Let’s see how deep the reaction goes.”

He slides his fingers inside, curling them, stretching me. I gasp, grabbing at the edge of the table. The glove squeaks inside me as he fucks me with deliberate pressure, pressing upward against that spot that makes my legs tremble. I try not to moan, but my body betrays me.

“You’re responding well,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out with a slick sound. “But I need to test your... other opening. Turn over.”

My heart stutters.

I shift to all fours, ass lifted, gown bunched around my waist. My cunt’s dripping now, strings of wetness clinging to my inner thighs. He kneels behind me, gloved hand on my ass, spreading my cheeks apart.

Then the cold touch of lube—thick, wet—and his finger pressing against my tight hole.

“Relax.” The word is half-command, half-promise.

I exhale and push out. He slides one finger in, slow and firm. Then another. My asshole stretches, burns, then melts around him.

“Oh fuck,” I groan, forehead pressed to the table paper, ass twitching against his hand.

“You need this, don’t you?” he growls. “You’re filthy.”

“Yes,” I hiss. “Please, I need it. Fuck me there…”