An adult stories – Cures in the Cracks by Voyeurkenneth,Voyeurkenneth Was I a bad person?
If you asked my buddies that question, they’d jokingly tell you yes. Tell you that I was a fraud doctor that only got into the chiropractic profession so I could get my hands on beautiful women. That under the guise of alternative medicine, I’d given myself free rein to touch body parts without instantly being thumped with a harassment claim.
I did enjoy treating an attractive female, sure. Who wouldn’t. But those occurrences were so few and far between, especially for my struggling practice. My usual fare consisted of arthritic senior citizens, heavyset folks with bad backs, or car accident victims who’d rather be anywhere else.
So, when a sexy, blonde model in her twenties glides into my clinic on her own volition, can you really blame me for jumping at the opportunity to treat her? To dote on her a bit more, give her special attention. It wasn’t everyday that I won the patient lottery.
SESSION 1
Initial Assessment
My professional integrity was tested the day she walked in. How Belle even discovered my practice, I had no clue.
When my assistant escorted her into my compact treatment room, it was like heaven opening a radiant portal, to let one of their angels grace the presence of mere mortals like myself.
“Hi, I’m Belle Adelson,” she said.
I gulped in my throat to clear it. “I’m Dr. Derek Worthy.”
I closed the door from the inside to give us some privacy, my mouth starting to salivate like a hungry dog at the sight of juicy steak.
“Where do you want me?” she asked.
I pointed to my treatment table. The demon in my head wanted me to tell her, bend over my table, please, pants down and legs spread. (Fuck my friends for not being entirely wrong about me.)
“So Belle, what brings you in today?” I asked.
“Self-care. My body’s basically my job. I’m a model.”
No kidding, I said in my head. What actually came out of my mouth was standard small talk. “Interesting. You do the whole runway thing?”
“Mostly print and digital. For swimsuits, under-apparel, stuff like that.”
I took the opportunity to scan her body like a doctor should (and hey, I had the license to!). She fit the bill all right. Slim hourglass profile, flat stomach, distinct curves that justified the existence of the bikini industry.
“I’ve never been to a chiro before,” she admitted. “Had plenty of massages though. Do I take my clothes off?”
I was thrown askew by the question. Was she seriously asking, or just pulling my leg? I regarded her face, those mesmerizing blue eyes were oozing sincerity, seeking a sincere answer from me in return.
I could feel a surge of adrenaline, my heart rate spiking. I thought of my friends and their playful accusations for why I wanted to be a chiropractor. Fuck me. I hated how, in this very moment, with this gorgeous model in front of me, my buddies’ claims were going to be validated…
“Um, yeah,” I spit out. “I need to assess your spine. Your shirt and bottoms off, please.”
“Sure, no problem,” she said, before slipping her crop top off, her capri pants followed.
She presented herself now in just a sports bra and compression shorts, both a milky shade of orange. It made for a mouth-watering palette against the light tan on her white skin. Reminded me of those creamsicles I loved devouring in the hot summer as a kid.
What a goddamn body Belle had been blessed with. Even the way she’d swiftly got rid of her clothes was sexy to me, even if she’d done it without pretense. I figured she must’ve been used to casually disrobing for others, being a model and all.
“Stand please,” I directed her. Then I nestled right behind her rear, so cognizant of how close my crotch was to the curve of her rump. I placed two fingers at her mid back, tips sinking into her soft skin.
I palpated slowly, tracing down the length of her spine. Each time I applied pressure, I swore each point of contact sent electric pulses through my arms, straight to my balls, churning the turbine that powered me down there.
“How’s my back looking, Doc?” she asked, breaking me from my reverie.
“I’ll tell ya in a bit,” I said, using the opportunity to palpate again, this time, with both my thumbs in the crests of her sacrum, so close to that sumptuous creamsicle-colored treat of an ass.
My fingers then made a return trip, a measured journey back up her spine. I paused at her upper back when my touch pressed into the wide band of her sports bra. I let out ahmmph sound, to test her reaction.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“This part of your thoracic spine feels locked up. I need to assess it without constrictions.”
“Oh you mean my sports bra. I can take it off if you need,” she said. Again, so sincerely.
For all intents and purposes, she didn’t need to lose her bra. I could’ve easily palpated over her band. But fuck, I couldn’t help myself. The juicy steak was being served right to me, aroma wafting into my nostrils, the cut perfectly seared for my consumption.
“Yes, go ahead and remove it please,” I said.
With her back toward me, Belle slipped her fingers below the hem at her torso, then pulled the tight material up and over. My horny mind was playing welcome tricks on my ears, assuring me I’d heard the sound of her ample breasts flopping out of fabric.
Belle walked seven steps forward to place her sports bra atop a nearby counter. As she spun to return, she brought her forearm up to cover her chest. I courteously averted my eyes—for now.
When she returned to her standing position, with her back to me, her arm still masking her bust, my inner-demon decided to make another cameo…
“Belle, if you don’t mind placing your arm back down at your side. I need to assess your natural standing posture.”
“Of course,” she replied, complying without confrontation.
Cha-ching! I had her right where I wanted. Over her shoulder, a full length mirror was fastened on the opposite wall. It gave me a reflection of her frontside, of those two natural mounds that sat beautifully on her chest. It was too bad there wasn’t a chiropractic adjustment that involved squeezing breasts, especially ones like Belle’s.
Next, I gently flipped her hair over the front of her shoulders, so I could palpate her upper back unobstructed. Just lifting her blonde locks unlocked a scent so intoxicating, it convinced me her scalp had released pheromones.
“How’s your neck feeling?” I asked, my fingers now on her cervical spine below the base of her skull.
“Neck’s a little stiff, Doc. I think I sleep too much on my stomach.”
“That’s not ideal. But let’s see if we can get you right. Lie face up on my table, please.”
“On it.”
I swear, I didn’t “conveniently forget” to tell her that she could’ve put her clothes back on for this next part. But the way she reacted, so amenably, as if there was nothing wrong with my guidance, it made me just want to keep pushing forward, see how much more I could get away with.
She lay on her back atop my leather treatment table, her arms at her side, which meant that her bare breasts were out in the open. They looked even better than in a reflection.
I sat on my rolling stool and swiveled behind her head. Then I slipped my hands under her neck, flexed the latter gently to loosen her muscles.
“Alright Belle, just relax now.”
“Is this going to hurt?” she asked.
“It’ll feel like relief. You can trust me. Close your eyes and take a deep breath for me.”
On her exhale, I applied a controlled twist with my hands.
Thwack-ack-ack! A crunchy sound of cracks emitted from her neck.
She let out a high squeal, which might’ve signaled alarm. But when Belle opened her eyes, she slowly sprouted a wide smile.
“Oh my god!” she said. “That felt amazing!”
“Now the other side,” I said, prompting her to close her eyes again. I stole another glance at her breasts, this time making it a point to watch them jiggle when I adjusted her neck once more.
Thwack-ack-ack! Another set of crunchy delights. Paired with that poetic jiggle, I was savoring both the audio and the visual!
“God, I needed this all my life,” she said, opening her eyes, thanking me with her pearly-white smile.
If I was being the ethical doctor I should’ve been, I would’ve handed her her clothes to put back on. But that train had left the station long ago. I was now willing to put my license on the line for this gorgeous stranger.
“Alright, on your side, Belle. Let’s adjust your lower back, your lumbar spine.”
A vibration from Belle’s smartwatch got her attention. She glanced at her wrist. “Oh shoot, sorry Doc! My brother-in-law’s calling.”
“Oh…”
My euphoric high of a balloon felt like it’d just been pricked with a needle. She had a brother-in-law… Which meant she had a husband… My eyes shot to her ring finger. There it was, a gold band on it. I must’ve missed it before, too preoccupied with the rest of that magnetic body of hers.
She stood up off the table, brought her forearm over her bust to cover up. “I’m sorry, Doc. This call’s urgent. Do you mind if I take it in here while I dress up? I’ll be quick.”
She was asking for privacy. Guess she needed to leave pronto. I couldn’t say no to this beautiful blonde. Not after the half-naked treatment she’d let me perform on her, on this otherwise drab Monday.
“Of course, take all the time you need,” I said.
“Thanks. This was awesome, by the way. Can I call your assistant later, set up a second appointment?”
“Yes,” I said, way too quickly.
SESSION 2
Targeted Adjustment
A week later.
I only had one patient in the morning, which meant I had all damn afternoon to twiddle my thumbs, waiting anxiously for my only other appointment of the day—Belle’s.
When she entered my clinic, she sported a smile on her face, which instantly lifted my mood. I figuratively rolled out the red carpet for her, escorted her inside my treatment room to get this much anticipated sequel started.
“So Doc, any fun weekend plans?” she asked, as I closed the door to give us privacy.
“Uh…” I hesitated, too focused on getting my hands on her already. “I’m thinking of catching the big soccer match,” I said.
“Fun! My family loves watching the big games too. My husband, his brother, our two nephews. They all bunker down in our basement in front of our big screen, shout and yell and really get into it. Where are you watching?”
“Just at home.”
“What! You should come over and watch with us. Personally, I don’t really ‘watch-watch.’ But I do curate a good spread of snacks and drinks for the guys. Makes for fun vibes all around. But anyway, I’m rambling. Point is, you’re invited, Doc.”
“Awfully kind of you, but maybe another time.”
Was Belle’s invitation genuine? Sure sounded like it. She was being friendly—too friendly—for my liking. Not that I had anything against chummy patients. But my mind had packaged this woman as someone whose pussy I dreamt of sticking my dick into.
I didn’t want to see Belle as anything other than the patient I could have my greedy way with, within the private walls of my clinic. That meant no making friendship bracelets together, no watercolor-painting-over-wine-type shit.
To my pleasant surprise, Belle went ahead and started undressing, even though I hadn’t instructed her to. She must’ve thought it was standard practice based on her previous session.
Instead of a modest sports bra, she wore a white bra and panties this time. I more than welcomed the upgrade.
“This top off too, right?” she asked earnestly, a finger on her nylon strap.
“Yes. It constricts,” I simply replied.
“Got it.” She turned her back to me. “Sorry Doc, do you mind unhooking me from the back?”
Never apologize for asking that, Belle! I unclasped her bra, loving the snappy clicking sound it produced, my type of ASMR. She then slinked her arms out of the strands.
“Here,” I said, “I’ll place that on the counter for you while you go ahead and get on the table.”
She willingly gave me the bra, and I turned away at an angle to conceal, so I could secretly give the cups a perverted squeeze before I placed it on the counter. What’d I give to be a microbe that lived in those nylon cups.
I returned to face Belle, who was mindlessly sitting topless on my treatment table.
“So Belle, anything in particular bothering you pain-wise?” I asked, doing my best to not slobber at her bare chest.
“Doc, my lower back’s been killing me since last week,” she said, arching her body for effect. “I’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow. I need to be able to pose, be as flexible as I can. I think I could use that adjustment you mentioned last time. What’d you call it? My lumber?”
I chuckled at her cute mispronunciation. “Lumbar,” I corrected her. “Alright Belle, let’s fix you up. Lay on your side, please.”
She did as I instructed, and I further arranged her limbs to prep her for the adjustment. Folded her top leg, crossed her arms over her chest. And she readily let me, and I loved that she did.
“So,” I said, “the lumbar adjustment will involve me also adjusting your sacrum. That’ll mean my hand will be on your rear area. Just to give you a courtesy heads up.”
“Okay, thank you,” she said so easily.
Perfect. I wanted to push the envelope further, weaponize industry jargon to justify my next move.
“However,” I added, “your underwear actually constricts the blood flow around your sacroiliac joint, which does affect mobility in your L4 and L5 vertebrae. I need the ability to adjust any subluxations without obstructions, if you don’t mind.”
“You mean you need me to take these off?” She looked down at her panties.
“Yes,” I said with all the medical conviction in the world.
“Sure Doc, that’s no problem.”
This was insane. I always thought the “dumb blonde” myth was overblown, but shit, maybe not. I believed she really did trust my judgment.
She started to wiggle out of her panties, attempting to push them down from her side-lying position.
“Need help?” I offered.
“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Of course I wouldn’t mind! I brought my hands to the hem of her panties once they’d reached the middle of her thighs. The “professional” that I was, I refrained from looking at her privates. I knew I’d be able to sneak a peak later when I got the chance. My peripheral vision was already teasing me though, tempting me like the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden.
When I finally rolled the last of the garment off her ankles, I walked the seven long steps to place it on the counter alongside her bra. Facing away, I boldly took a sniff of her panties. It was flowery and lush and fragrant, the Garden of Eden confirmed.
I returned to Belle, finally ready to administer this long-awaited treatment on her sublime body. I faced toward her in her side-lying position. Placed one palm on her upper arm for stability and counter-pressure, my other arm on the crown jewel of her bare ass cheek. She didn’t squirm, didn’t recoil. I smiled inside, ready to reap her reaction.
“Big breath in,” I instructed.
On her exhale, I applied sudden force, pressed down on her ass at an angle, eliciting a string of lower back cracks that I knew she felt the spectacular impact of.
“Oh fuck!” she cursed aloud, taking me by surprise.
I stepped back to observe her full reaction. She was beaming at me with those piercing blues.
“That was intense!” she said.
“Feeling okay?”
“I think so? Wow…”
“We’ll test your pain levels in a bit. First, we gotta balance out the adjustment. Turn on the opposite side please.”
“Oh hell yes!” she said excitedly, already shifting her body for me to arrange into position, to continue working my magic.
After I applied the matching adjustment, I had her walk across the tiny room, to evaluate her pain post-treatment. And since she was still naked, I was rewarded with that long-awaited glimpse at her pussy. It looked incredible. A thin slit of a gateway that probably housed the marvelous wonders of the galaxy. Oh how I wanted to be the astronaut that explored it.
“Holy shit!” she said.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked, though I already knew. Just wanted to hear her say it.
“My lower back pain’s gone!” she said with wide eyes, like I was Jesus Christ himself, miracle worker.
Belle rushed up to hug me, something I absolutely welcomed.
She was bare ass naked, and I had my hands around the supple flesh of her back. I was tempted to drop them to her ass, but I maintained decorum, the microscopic bit I had left.
As much as I lustfully relished Belle’s embrace in this moment, I was also reminded why I had gotten into this business in the first place. To heal people. To witness their pure reaction when I provided them instant relief.
Somehow, that rewarding feeling of fulfillment only added to the growing erection in my khakis, the friction of which was now rubbing against her stomach. Belle noticed. She took a step back to scan and corroborate my arousal.
Shit…
My hardness was hard to miss. She saw it clear as fucking day.
Embarrassment punched my gut! But for some reason, I didn’t cower from it. Felt like it would’ve looked more fishy if a doctor like myself tried to hide from what just came natural to bodies.
“Oh,” she simply said, then returned her eyes to mine for an earnest response.
“You’ll have to excuse me. Not every day I get to treat a beautiful model. Sometimes biochemistry takes over anatomy. Trust me, I’d know best.” I chuckled to diffuse my predicament.
“Are you married, Doc?” she asked in a neutral tone, a seemingly random question.
“Uh, I’m single.”
“Dating anyone?”
“Not at the moment,” I replied, being truthful.
“Do you take house calls?”
“Uh, yeah, on occasion,” I said. Where exactly was she going with these questions?
Then Belle put her clothes back on, disappointing me in that it meant our appointment today was sadly coming to an end.
She set her phone’s camera into selfie mode, waved me over. “Take a pic with me, Doc. You’ve just made me a certified believer of chiropractic. My friend Sherrie said you guys were fake doctors. But now I know that that’s not true.”
“Glad to have you onboard the chiro train,” I said, my hand on her opposite shoulder, posing for the photo she snapped of us (which was framed above our waistlines, thank god).
I began speculating as to why she’d asked me that sequence of questions, but before I could interrogate, Belle handed me her phone.
“Give me your personal number,” she said. “I’ll text you, in case I ever need a house call.” She winked at me.
Oh, okay… I think I got it now…
SESSION 3
Joint Maintenance
Three weeks later.
I’d wiped my slate clean. Had my assistant inform my lone afternoon patient that he’d need to reschedule. Because on this very,very special Monday, I was set to treat my favorite patient. At her house.
Good things happened on a third date, right? I certainly hoped that’d be the case with Belle’s third session. She’d texted me this morning, said that her schedule this week was packed. That a house call was her only opening to squeeze a chiro session in. Whether or not she was telling the truth was my furthest concern. If I played my cards right, maybe I’d be giving Belle more than just an adjustment.
I drove onto the gravel driveway of a two-story mansion, not surprised that a woman like her lived in a house this nice.
What did surprise me, however, was who answered the door to greet me. It was a man, well-built, probably in his forties. Fuck, was this her husband? I wiped away whatever anticipatory smile I’d brought with me.
“Hey,” he said to me, then scanned my hands as if I was supposed to be holding something other than my portable treatment table. “Food delivery?” he followed with.
I gave him a look of confusion, unsure if he was messing with me.
Then Belle appeared from behind him, thankfully, for my sake. “Hey Doc, come on in.”
When I stepped inside her house, I tried to make sense of the scene I’d just walked into. I assumed Belle would’ve been home alone. But here she was, with her husband (presumably) present. What was happening here?
I feared Belle would impulsively strip down for our chiro session, telling this man that her undressing was part of the treatment. And if this guy had half a brain to go along with his big biceps, he’d immediately know I’d abused my authority.
Inside their living room, I took mental note of their respective attires. Belle was in a silky white robe, the kind you wear before and after sex, when you’re around your significant other.
The man, on the other hand, was wearing boxers and a fitted white tank. Definitely the kind you wear before and after sex, when you’re around your wife.
“Did I come at a bad time?” I asked, to either of them.
“You’re fine, Doc,” Belle said. “This is Frank.” She gestured to the man that had answered the door for me.
I waited for her to say he was her husband, but she didn’t. I shook the guy’s hand, put on my best professional smile.
“And Frank,” she continued, “this is Dr. Derek Worthy, my chiropractor. He’s making a house call today.”
“Nice,” he said in a friendly, non-threatening tone. “Man, I’ve always wanted to try chiro. I do manual labor for work. Aches come aplenty.”
“Oh, maybe Doc here can give you a quick adjustment.” Belle looked at me, basically queuing me up to treat this random man.
Frank interjected, “Nah, I don’t wanna impose.”
“You’re not,” Belle said. “It’s the least I can do. Come on, it’s on my dime.”
Frank looked to me for confirmation. “Is that okay, Doctor?”
“Not a problem at all,” I replied with enthusiasm. I was the guest here in Belle’s home. I sure as hell wasn’t going to go against her insistence.
“You can do the adjustment here in the living room,” Belle said. “I’ll be right back, I need to tidy my room a bit.”
Why the hell was tidying her room so important to her right now? Before I knew it, she was heading up the staircase alone, leaving me one-on-one with Frank.
Halfway up the steps, Belle added, “Frank, give Doc a tour of the basement after, show him the whole setup. Maybe it’ll convince him to take me up on my invite, to watch soccer with the guys.”
A panic came over me, immediately thinking that this so-called basement tour would be the moment I’d get clocked cold by this hitman named Frank. Then I’d be tied up and waterboarded, torture-trained to never touch Belle ever again, under any circumstances.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
After I’d given this Frank fellow an adjustment in the living room (fully clothed, obviously), he kindly showed me the basement. I realized it’d been converted into a game and entertainment space, with a big screen TV, couch and recliners, and even a pool table.
I thought to myself, that it would actually be pretty sweet if I watched a match here one day, instead of on my teeny laptop. Hmm, maybe I would take Belle up on her soccer offer after all.
***
We returned to the living room. With Belle still upstairs, I made small talk with my friendly tour guide.
“So Frank, how long have you and Belle been married?” I asked.
He laughed, like I’d said something unbelievably ridiculous. “I’m not married. If I was, it sure wouldn’t be to Belle.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, confused, not knowing what else to say without being prying about their relationship. I glanced at his fingers. There wasn’t a ring.
Belle then appeared, staring at me below from behind the second story railing. “Alright Doc, you can come up. Bring your table up with you. Frank, I’m going to take my adjustment up here. You can wait down there. We’ll get back to it soon.”
Then she disappeared from view, expecting me to meet her up there. I looked at Frank, wondering what he was making of all this, notably my private invitation, to meet his alleged not-wife upstairs.
“Belle’s lower back is sore, kinda locked up,” he said to me. “Hope you can fix that for her. It’ll make things smoother, my job easier.”
“Um, I’ll do my best,” I replied, trying to decipher subtext.
As I traveled up the staircase, my crazy conspiracy brain was asking some burning questions, like how’d Frank even know her back was sore? Classic porn logic dictated that he was the cause of it, having fucked Belle so hard before I’d gotten here.
And then what he’d also said, about how me adjusting her would make things smoother, his job easier. How? If Belle were to be pain-free after my adjustment, I guess it’d make it more pleasant for her to get fucked hard by him again, fucked right back into misalignment. I laughed to myself.
When I reached the second floor landing, Belle was at the end of the hallway, gesturing for me to follow her. I was led through double doors into her master bedroom.
The first thing I noticed was the obvious scent of air freshener. This was what Belle had probably meant by tidying up her room. To rid her and Frank’s musty sex smells from earlier, my conspiracy brain said, having a ball with this subplot.
Then my theory felt semi-validated, because, in the corner of the room, was a thick bundled ball of linen. She had changed her sheets. Stained them probably, from too much damn fucking. Hah.
As I unfolded and arranged my treatment table, I took further stock. There was a ceiling mirror above her bed, making me think that only kinky freaks did that to watch themselves go at it. Jesus, Belle.
This enigma of a woman was driving me nuts with curiosity. Had me fantasizing more lascivious shit. Like how on the far wall of her room, there was a private balcony, where I conjured a cinematic scene of Belle getting fucked in the nude, picturesquely at sunrise. Whether by her loving husband, for one. Or by her alleged not-husband, Frank.
She caught me staring into space. “Everything okay, Doc?”
I needed to ask. “Belle, who’s that Frank guy? Is that your husband?”
“Nope,” she plainly said, no further explanation.
“Um, so whereis your husband then?” I bravely followed up.
“At work,” she said so casually, as if my line of questioning bore no implications.
“Uh, listen Belle… I really enjoy having you as my patient. But I don’t want to find myself in any trouble here. With you, your husband, or that guy downstairs.”
She gave me a knowing grin. “You don’t have to worry, Doc. Everything’s okay. We’re all responsible adults here. And adults, including my husband and I, have responsible understandings,” she said.
Erm, okay. Think I got the gist. Assumed this was an open marriage type thing. And that the Frank guy downstairs was somehow, some way a part of it. Where did I fit in this puzzle though? Was this just a regular house call after all?
“So, which adjustment are we starting with?” she asked.
Before I could answer, Belle began untying her robe, pulled one flap down her shoulder, then the other, until the whole piece fell to her carpet. I expected her to be in underwear.
Nope.
She was completely nude.
Like her robe, my jaw had dropped to her carpet too, but my eyes stayed glued to her naked body, soaking in every delectable detail it could. Her full breasts, the pretty lips of her pussy. Thank god I had 20/20 vision.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she said, giggling. “Alright Doc, I really do have a packed schedule today. Let’s get the chiro session started. Neck first.”
Belle settled her naked body onto my table, unafraid to be the one giving me the orders. I happily complied, and delivered her the cervical spine adjustments.
Without my prompting, she then turned on her side, expecting the lumbar spine adjustment next. I readily palmed her bare ass to do it, then…
Thwack-ack-ack! From her left side.
Flipped her position.
Thwack-ack-ack! From her right side.
“God I love those cracks! My back so needed that,” Belle said. “Oh and hey Doc, I was actually looking up some techniques online. There’s this one chiro who adjusts inner ribs with his hand. Do you know that adjustment?”
“I do.”
Of course I knew this technique. Rarely used it though, based on how intrusive it could feel to a female patient. It involved flattening my hand, then taking the side of it and wedging it between a woman’s cleavage, then applying force to adjust the interior ribs.
“Well, are you going to give me it?” she asked.
“Uh, sure.”
With Belle face up on her back, I brought the side of my hand stiffly between her breasts, subtly rubbed up and down, side to side, like a batter digging his cleats in the batter’s box. I executed the adjustment more than once, in slightly different spots, so I could enjoy the wobble of her tits each time.
“That was nice, Doc. What else ya got? That can’t be all.”
Surely, Belle had wanted that rib adjustment for more than just relief. And now she was asking me for more, pretty much begging for it.
I needed to wake the fuck up, start letting go of any lingering inhibitions. She and her husband supposedly had an understanding. That Frank guy wasn’t a hitman either. And this was no regular session! I was in her bedroom for god’s sake!
Come on Derek, she wants you to keep touching her!
Fuck it, let’s do this.
“Belle, I’m trained in massage therapy. Gonna give you a soft tissue treatment to complement the adjustments.”
“What are you waiting for, Doc?” She grinned.
***
With the help of my trusty massage oil, I kneaded out knots in Belle’s shoulders and back, squeezed those tasty thighs, hit pressure points in the soles of those delicious feet.
The awesome thing about massages: it meant my hands could roam, squeeze, and grope. For as long as I deemed necessary. And I deemed touching Belle’s nude body for a long timevery necessary. The downside to my relaxing massage, however, was that I feared I’d soothed Belle to sleep.
It was time to turn up the heat.
While on her back, I steered my hands toward Belle’s chest and cupped those pillowy breasts. Oiled every square inch of real estate on her rack. Then I narrowed my aim, lightly pinched her pretty pink nipples, my thumbs and forefingers working in tandem.
A velvety moan spilled from her throat. She had her eyes shut, but a small closed-lipped smile appeared on her face.
Without words, Belle inched her thighs open for me to see, as if my breast work was the lock pick that unsealed the precious vault between her legs.
I stepped into position then, stared at my target, then savored the sight of my fingers plunging softly past the threshold of her petal lips. She was wet. So wet. A bit sticky too I noticed.
Curious, I withdrew my fingers to examine. There was a creamy residue on them that could only be semen.
“Why’d you stop?” she said, her eyes still closed.
Great question, Belle. My fingers dove back in and built to a steady rhythm, agitating her g-spot on the out stroke, flicking her clit frequently on the in. I fingered her hard until I induced an elongated mewl, summoning her hips upward, her lower back levitating off my portable table.
I held Belle in place, made sure she didn’t fall off the side as she rode out her orgasm.
“Fuck… Wow…” she said, exhaling sharply. Then she looked at me, with a ravenous stare. “Why do you still have your clothes on?”
Belle was asking my favorite type of questions! I shed every garment off me at warp speed, revealed my steely shaft to her in all its glory, demonstrating to Belle her spellbinding effect on it.
“Let’s move this to your bed,” I said.
She giggled. “I’m covered in oil, Doc,” she replied with such pragmatism, putting a mild damper on my desires. “I’d rather not change my sheets again. We’ve already got towels on your table. Should be okay on here, right?”
“Seems pretty stable,” I said, trying to speed this shit up.
“Cool. I trust your judgment.”
Belle’s cheery tone was disarming. It didn’t bear the seductive stylings of a femme fatale. This woman absolutely wanted to fuck me, but she wasn’t being impulsive and careless about it.
Belle then stood up, went to her drawer and pulled out a tray with assorted condoms on it.
“Take your pick,” she said with a friendly smile.
“I brought my own.”
“Kinky, Doc! So you planned for this possibility then,” she said, flirtatiously, trying to put me on the spot.
“Didn’tyou?” I pinged back. “We could’ve done the adjustments in your living room.”
Belle chuckled. “A sharp mind to go with your talented hands. Proud you’re my chiropractor. Now let’s see how good you are with your other tools.” She looked down at my open erection, giving me the green light for go.
I hurriedly fetched a condom from my pants on the carpet, slid it on sloppy and fast.
Atop my table, Belle had already positioned herself on her back, blonde hair spilling over the edges.
“Let’s go, Doc! Treat me,” she said.
Her legs were spread wide, like pearly gates welcoming my cock into heaven. I made a beeline toward salvation, stepped up to the edge of the table, aimed my tip at her opening, then pushed in deep. A white flash washed over me, and I swore I saw our Almighty Maker flash me a thumbs up of bro approval.
Then her low moan caught my ears, and I quickly regained my senses, realizing the task ahead: I was going to fuck the shit out of this blonde model.
I held Belle’s knees in place as I pumped and pumped, my glutes tensing, hips thrusting. I loved how tightly her pussy gripped my cock, so happy to be treating my favorite patient in this special manner.
I looked up to see her reaction. She again had her eyes closed, but was subtly licking her lips, clearly enjoying what I was doing.
“Yeah, Doc,” she whispered toward her ceiling. “That feels good… So good.”
We continued for minutes in the same position. I contemplated switching it up, flipping and bending her over instead. But I was too enthralled at this point. Didn’t want my cock to spend one millisecond outside this pussy.
Then a situation arose.
As I stared at my cock drilling in and out, I could see the condom gradually slipping off. You remember that demon that resided in me? I let it have a go at my controls. Couldn’t help myself…
In rhythm with my out stroke, I went ahead and pulled the entire condom off, then re-entered Belle bare like I’d never left her at all. Stared back at her face. She still had her eyes closed, hadn’t noticed a thing.
The feeling of fucking her raw felt a billion times better. The heat. The slickness. Her pussy walls were giving my cock a chokehold for the ages, trying to suffocate it, bullying the cum gurgling inside to release itself.
I only lasted another minute before I pulled out of Belle and sprayed her stomach with a forceful blast that could’ve cracked glass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shouted, jerking myself to completion.
When I regained my vision, I looked at Belle, ready to reap that gleeful look on her face, for another outstanding treatment by her talented chiropractor.
Instead, she was glowering at me. “Why didn’t you come inside the condom?” she asked.
“What?” I said, taken aback. “Um, it slipped off. Accidentally.”
“Then why didn’t you put it back on?”
“I didn’t notice it came off.”
“Yeah you did,” she shot back. “You’re holding it in your other hand.”
I glanced at said hand. Fuck… I couldn’t lie myself out of this mess. I’d been caught red handed. Condom-handed.
“I pulled out though. We should be okay,” is what I actually said. It should’ve been sorry, or some sentiment of remorse. But I was mentally sinking, trying to claw myself back to the surface.
Belle conveyed it all on her face: furrowed brows, gritted teeth. The blue in her eyes gained a furious shade of red.
“You need to leave. Right now,” she said firmly. She hopped off my table and angrily wiped her stomach clean. Returned her robe to her body.
I could feel her contempt for me permeating through the air, replacing that pleasant scent of air freshener. I kept my head down as I put my clothes back on.
Just then, there was a knock on her double doors.
“Come in!” Belle loudly said.
Frank stepped inside. “You okay, Belly?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, passive-aggressive.
“Just a friendly reminder, Iris and I have a dinner date later. She and I made reservations months ago. I can’t miss it.”
“I understand,” Belle said, more calmly. “Can you escort my chiropractor out?”
Belle’s tone wasn’t exactly menacing. As far as I could tell, she hadn’t given this Frank guy any coded signal to crowbar the back of my head and deposit me in a ditch.
Frank kindly nodded by way, even went as far as to fold my portable table for me. Then Belle told him to go on ahead and load my gear into my car, which gave me a sorely needed moment to address her in private.
I approached her with prayer hands. “Belle, I–”
“That was fucked up of you, Derek. Why?” Her plea was sincere, one that expressed more disappointment than anger now.
“I got lost in the heat of the moment. I-I couldn’t help myself.”
She gave me a look. A look my mom would often give me at specific points in my youth, to scold me when I hadn’t acted my age. Even now, as a full-grown adult, I was still prone to juvenile behavior.
“I trusted you,” she said.
“I know, I know. What can I do?”
“Just leave. Please.”
SESSION 4
Corrective Care
After that incident at her house, I never got to a 4th session with Belle. Didn’t hear from her the following week. Or the week after. And so on.
I often reflected on my moment of immaturity, the fact that Belle had trusted me, not only as her doctor, but as a person. A friend even. She’d welcomed me into her home, even invited me to watch soccer at it sometime.
Belle had also allowed me to enjoy her body. But I’d callously abused that privilege by crossing a clear-cut boundary–the one taught to us in youth, so that when one’s my age, it’s already understood that overstepping it would beget real consequences.
I wanted to make amends for my actions. But, unsurprisingly, Belle hadn’t responded to any of my texts. Probably blocked my number. I didn’t blame her. I obviously never went ahead and invoiced her for that house call.
***
In the months since I’d last treated Belle, my struggling business actually picked up steam. Somehow, I came into a nice, steady in-take of patients that helped keep the lights on. None of them looked like Belle, of course. Not even close. But even if they did, I would’ve refrained from any shady behavior.
During my sessions, I focused instead on engaging my patients better. I struck up more meaningful conversations, made sure they felt safe in my care. Made it a point to cherish their bright smiles and occasional tears of joy, whenever I made their pain go away. It helped remind myself why I truly treasured my career.
One newer client that I’d grown fond of was a nice man named Carl. At his sessions, we bonded over our shared soccer fandom. We actually met up one time, at a local bar, to catch a match over wings and beer.
During that hangout, Carl had told me that if I was interested, I could behis client. Joked that since I crack his back, he’d scratch mine, using his own set of licensed skills. I liked Carl so much that I figured it couldn’t hurt to give the whole therapy thing with him a try, see for myself why all these public figures praised its impact on their lives.
After my 4th session with Carl, I realized how much more I needed his services than vice versa. I was able to talk through a lot of things, explore all the avenues that made me question whether I was a bad person. That included me disclosing my incident with Belle, though I kept her identity anonymous.
At Carl’s most recent chiropractic visit, I randomly asked him how he’d heard about my practice. He told me he saw an ad for it on social media, which was news to me. I hadn’t authorized any such purchases.
Then he forwarded me the ad when I asked him for it. I realized it wasn’t an ad at all. It was a social media post from Belle, with the following caption:
If you’ve got neck or back pain, then pay a visit to Dr. Derek Worthy’s chiropractic clinic! =)
The caption was accompanied by a photo, which showed me and Belle from the waist up, standing inside my treatment room. It was the photo she’d snapped at the end of her second session.
The date of her post, though, was more intriguing. It was published some timeafter her last treatment with me, following that fraught house call.
Belle must’ve been the reason for my new uptick in patients. She had quite the number of followers, enough for her post to have influence. After what I’d done to her though, I would’ve expected her to leave a scathing online review instead. I couldn’t explain it if I tried.
***
At a local cafe, I spent this Sunday morning by myself, enjoying a pistachio latte with an open notebook out. Carl had told me journaling could be a good mental exercise, to help reflect on good acts I’ve done the past week, and identify things to be grateful for.
Pen in my hand, I was jotting words down when I noticed a figure in my periphery. Looked up and saw her in front of me, with her blonde hair and model body.
“Hi,” Belle said. She looked down at my belongings. “Journaling on a Sunday. Cool. I do that too sometimes.”
I was a bit shell-shocked, with her friendliness in this moment. I softly closed my notebook to give her my full attention.
“Yeah, um, writing’s been nice,” I said. “Helps me to reflect.”
“Are you here alone?” she followed up.
I nodded my head yes. “How about you?”
“I’m here with my family.” She turned her head toward a table across the room.
From afar, I noted four men sitting there: two younger, two older, one of them I recognized as Frank.
“So, just curious,” she said, regaining my attention, “do chiropractors treat pregnant women?”
I naturally glanced at her stomach. It was flat.
She noted my eye-line. “I’m not pregnant yet. But I’m 28, about the age I want to start having kids. My husband and I have been trying. For a while now, actually.”
For a while now. I processed those words.
It dawned on me suddenly, my actions that day at her house. If Belle and her husband had been trying to conceive, the last thing they needed was an irresponsible chiropractor accidentally spilling his seed into a fertile womb.
The fact that Belle had even allowed me to have fun with her, considering the baby mission she was on, where time and energy were valuable resources during an ovulation cycle…Fuck… I had acted like such an inconsiderate asshole that day.
Then I thought back to that Frank fellow. The way he and Belle had been dressed at her house, plus the myriad of other context clues, including the gooey ejaculate my fingers had withdrawn from inside her. What other explanation was there? Frank had to be Belle’s manual sperm donor.
They probably had been having sex that day, constantly, while she was ovulating… Yet he wasn’t her husband, allegedly. The old demon inside me kicked my shin, tempted me to try and uncover the juicy details. But the new saint on my shoulder said that I knew better, that Belle’s personal business was hers and hers alone. I wasn’t entitled to an explanation. I wasn’t her chiropractor anymore, let alone her friend.
My wandering brain returned to the present moment. “Hey Belle, I know it’s been awhile since that day, but I really am sorry for what I did to you. It wasn’t right. I’m trying to be better, in all aspects.”
She took a long moment, letting my apology marinate. Her blue eyes searched my brown ones. I had nothing but contrition in them.
“It’s okay,” she said. Then, after a beat, “Thanks. Doc.”
The way she called me Doc pulled at my heartstrings, as sappy as that sounds. It let me know she felt comfortable enough to use that nickname for me again.
“Belle, I saw that social media post you put up, recommending my practice. That was extremely generous of you. I think I got some new patients from it. But, um, if you don’t mind me asking… Why’d you do that for me?”
“Because I think you’re good at your job. And maybe not everyone knows it. I thought you deserved a fair shake. To prove it.”
Before I could even express my appreciation, she chimed in, “You never answered my question. About whether chiropractors treat pregnant women.”
“Oh, right. Answer’s yes. I can recommend some colleagues to you if you’d like.”
“Why not you?” she directly asked, a smile forming on her lips.
“As in you’d wantme to treat you?”
“Good people can have lapses in judgment. It happens. You deserve that fair shake, Doc.” Her smile was wider now.
“Thank you,” I replied, hand over heart.
“One condition though, for my future sessions,” she added, “I’m keeping all my clothes on.” Belle gave me a wink, getting me to laugh and also feel embarrassed with how far I’d gotten with that sleazy trick.
It’s funny, I’d always assumed Belle believed the wardrobe-shedding was relevant to the treatment. But damn, maybe she wasn’t as naive as she let on. Maybe she had knowingly played into it, had a little exhibitionist streak in her. Had me wondering whether Belle was the one that had baited me from the start, instead of the other way around.
Like Frank, it seemed that I too was a chapter–a vignette, more likely–in Belle’s sexual anthology, the one seemingly co-authored by her spouse. Responsible understandings, or whatever she’d said.
She lightly placed her hand on my shoulder. “Alright, I should get back to my family. But I’ll see ya around, Derek. Take care of yourself, k?”
“I will. Have a good one, Belle.”
I watched her return to her table, where I assumed one of the guys there was her husband. Whoever he was, I genuinely wished Belle and him all the best on their conception journey, in whatever (perhaps unorthodox) form that took on.
I could probably go on and on about Belle, the way she’d crash-landed into my life, ended up changing it for the better. Could probably write an essay about it. Speaking of which, I opened back up my handy journal, took a nice sip of my pistachio latte, then eagerly grabbed my pen, my ink filled with gratitude on this fine Sunday morning.
***
Author’s Note: This was my submission in Literotica Nude Day Story Contest. If you enjoyed this story, a vote would be awesome and make my day. Comments and Favorites are also welcome. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got other Belle stories published and planned if you’re interested.