Against My Religion

Cadence Lux knocks on the gynecolo­gist's door like a saint looking for converts, except she's definitely distracted. Her clit's throbbing harder than a praise-band drummer and she's already soaked through the respectable cotton of her sensible panties. Dr. Ryan McLane answers, white coat on, stethoscope swinging. He doesn't waste time—lists her symptoms, then orders her onto the table with a grin that says he knows exactly what heaven's hiding between her legs. She spreads. He probes. When he slides two slick fingers into her virgin cunt and feels how tight she is, he nods like this is standard care. 'You need to come hard,' he tells her, cock already nudging against his zipper. 'Prescription: dick, deep. Right now.' Cadence's mouth falls open on a silent prayer; she answers by hooking her knees wider. She whimpers when he pushes inside—feels sacrilege, feels perfect. The doctor grabs her hips and drills, flesh slapping the exam table as he stretches her untouched pussy. Her halo's somewhere on the floor. At the last second he yanks out, thick ropes of cum splattering across her slick lips and clit like he's anointing the altar. Cadence gasps, shuddering, holy maybe damnation definitely. Either way, the doctor leaves her dripping and smiling, ready for round two.