This is a fictional story and Dr. Camerone is not a role model.

Bonita is 18

Nothing I had experienced prior could have prepared me for that day. It came as a total surprise, but looking back, I now see that I was asking for it. I was begging for it. Not consciously but subconsciously, I craved it. Somewhere deep down, in my primal parts. How else could I explain my behavior?

If you were to ask me then, my intentions sounded innocent enough. But after that day, I knew I went into that exam room to have my inner slut forced to blossom.

I had decided years ago that I wanted to go to medical school. But just a month earlier, I decided that I wanted to go to Boston University, one of the top medial schools in the US. That day, I was told that Dr. Camerone, our high school's on-campus physician, had attended the same University. My counselor, Mrs. Dates, had suggested that I ask him for a letter of recommendation and I went to his office after school that day to do just that.

I had never had sex prior to that day. The entirety of my sexual experience was a sexting conversation with my best friend. I had jabbed my finger through my hymen as me and Elin shared dirty words. Looking back, our words weren't even as dirty as what Dr. Camerone would actually do to me... Anyway, I was a virgin.

Now, when I say I was a virgin, don't get the wrong idea. You may have some image of some ugly duckling, some skinny, dorky, insecure girl with thick glasses standing knock-kneed. No. That wasn't me at all. I was, and still am, gorgeous and I have always known. I may have been inexperienced but my body was advanced in feminine development. I possessed a full, curvy body while maintaining a flat (well, close enough to flat) tummy. I was tall and long legged, my thighs were naturally plump and so was my behind. I had 34 D breasts at the time, something no other high-schooler could brag. My lips were full, my eyes large and brown, my dark hair long and wavy.

And even then, I wasn't so shy with my body. I had often gotten in trouble for shortening my plaid skirt to reveal my lovely legs or leaving buttons undone on my white blouse to display my bountiful cleavage, or going without stockings to show off my glowing, brown sugar skin. It wasn't necessarily a devious or defiant thing, and it really wasn't flirty. I just liked my body and wasn't ashamed to let it show. I was always obedient and I always had a good attitude. If you ever saw me, you'd see me smiling my wide, white, charming smile at everyone.

So it was me, with all the confidence and good nature in the world, going to a room with a man who would change my life forever. And I would thank him for it.

I knocked on the office door and he opened it, smiling. "Hi. How can I help you?" I was immediately taken aback by how handsome he was. I had seen him before, but only in passing or from a distance. Now, he was standing a few feet in front of me, towering over me in all his masculine strength. His arms weren't gigantic, but they looked really strong. For whatever reason, I wondered how easy it would be for him to pick me up. It would probably be really easy. He looks so strong.

I put away my brief daydream and spoke instead of staring at his awesome body that barely hid behind his fitted white polo. "Hi, Dr. Camerone," I said, finally gazing up into his unfairly handsome face and angelic eyes. The prettiness of his hazel eyes contrasted nicely with the hardness of his body and the gruffness of his trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard. "I wanted to ask you for something, if you have time."

"Of course, come in," he said, stepping aside to let me into his office. I walked in and he closed the door behind me, which was a little surprising since most teachers, especially the male teachers, never closed their doors when talking one on one with a female student. I wasn't concerned, but I did note the little oddity. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing toward one of the two seats in front of his desk.

I sat in the suggested chair. He sat, not in the char behind his desk, but on the surface of his desk, right in front of me. To make room for his swinging right leg, I separated mine. It was just an instinct of decency, but when his foot hovered in the space between my bare knees, it felt... strange, like I had very subtlety suggested something. I had just opened my legs for a man.

I blushed and smiled to try and smooth away the awkwardness. Dr. Camerone took note as he looked up from my parted legs, and his smile widened. He then unabashedly surveyed the rest of me, his eyes roaming all over, making me uncharacteristically self-conscious. I knew the top three buttons of my tight white blouse would be undone. That was normal. But as I scanned myself, I remembered that I had released a fourth button, revealing a little bit of my nude colored bra as well as a healthy amount of my large breasts. In defense of my innocence, I would say that it was a really warm day.

"What can I do for you, Beautiful?" he said.

I had almost forgotten why I was there. I pulled my mind away from his gorgeous eyes on my gorgeous body and tried to focus. "Oh, uh," I fumbled. Trying to resume a level of visual modesty, I clapped knees shut but left my feet awkwaedly apart to accommodate the Doctor's foot underneath my knees, and I began to try and button my blouse. "Sorry, I..., uh-" I was inexplicably flustered as my sweaty fingers slipped against the button.

"Leave it open," he said. "I don't mind the sight of a girl's body."

"Oh, right," I said, chuckling. "Would make your job pretty strange if you had a problem with skin." I relaxed a little, his kindness and comfortability in the ambiguously awkward moment relieving my worries. "So, the reason I came is because I want to pursue a career in medicine. I've chosen to apply to Boston University for pre-med, and then med school. As I have ascertained earlier today, Boston U is your alma mater. And I heard somewhere that it helps your chance of being accepted if you get a good word from an alumnus. So, I came to ask you for a letter of recommendation."

"Hm," Dr. Camerone hummed and nodded. He took another couple seconds looking me up and down. He never stopped smiling when he said, "tell me your name, Beautiful?"

"Oh, yes sir. Sorry, sir. I should have introduced myself before asking you for a favor. My name is Bonita Tremaine. I'm a senior here and am currently on track to be valedictorian. I'm a really good student. If you check my records-"

Dr. Camerone lifted his hand to hush me. I hushed. "Just your name is all I asked for."

"Y-yes sir." Though I was always respectful to all adults, I wasn't the 'yes sir, yes ma'am' type. There was something about the Doctor's presence that demanded a higher level of respect and obedience. Even though a smile remained on his face.

"Bonita," Dr. Camerone like he was tasting my name, chuckling to himself. "You are certainly beautiful, Bonita."

The first two times he called me beautiful,

I wrote it off and ignored it. The third time made me nervous. I was sure he was looking at my body, he was calling me beautiful, and the door was closed. The scene was already ripe for much more inappropriate behavior. "Thank you, sir," I said quietly, my cheeks warming.

"Do you know why I asked your name?"

I was thrown off. It was a weird question, but I already knew where he might be going with it. The very reason I was hesitant to ask him for the recommendation in the first place. I just played along. "Because..., you wanted to know my name?"

"Right. Which means what?"

I looked down at my knees. "You didn't know it before."

"Exactly. And that means..., what?"

"That..., you don't know me, so you don't know enough to write a letter about me," I said in resignation.

When I looked up, frowning, Dr. Camerone was still smiling. "Smart and beautiful," he said. I faintly smiled up at him. "But there's good news. We have time to get to know each other." I grew hopeful and my eyes widened. Dr. Camerone then came off the edge of his desk and stood next to me. "Would you like us to get to know each other, Bonita?"

"Yes," I exclaimed without hesitation. Though the question seemed less than professional, I took it to mean what I wanted it to. That he would ask me questions, maybe survey my records and then he'd have enough to write his letter.

"Come here," he said, taking my hand and leading me deeper into his office, past a threshold and into a small examination room. Why do we need to be in the exam room? He pat the examination table as he glanced at me over his shoulder. I stepped up and sat on the leather cushion of the table and he sat down across from me on a little rolling stool. I crossed my legs, noticing embarrassingly that Dr. Camerone was almost eye level with my crotch. He just smirked.

His eyes on my smooth thighs made my skin tingle and I almost wished I had worn a proper length skirt and stockings. My heart was ticking quicker and my breaths weren't far from a pant. My cheeks were warmer still. I was alone in a tiny room, violating the school dress code, with a handsome older man who kept calling me beautiful and staring at my body.

What I felt couldn't simply be described as fear and nervousness. Those were there but they were accompanied by and mixed with a third feeling. Excitement. I knew I was being bad and that he was too. But how bad would we be exactly? Part of me hoped his encroachments on my privacy would stop at the current line or recede. Another part was curious to see how far that line could be pushed.

"Bonita, I'll be honest with you," Dr. Camerone said. "Boston University gets thousands of applicants every year from all over the country. Most of them, I assure you, have grades as good as yours. So, I think you'll need an edge over the other applicants. Something to distinguish you from the others. And I was thinking, what better way to distinguish yourself when applying for med school than to have some actual medical experience?"

That sparked my interest. "Okay. Um, so, what, like you want me to observe you whenever you do medical exams?"

"Something like that. I want it to be more of a hands-on type thing, though."

"Oh, so, you want me to do exams on other students? Is that legal?"

The doctor chuckled. "No. No, that's not what I meant. I'm saying, we can do a physical examination right here in this room. Right now."

That made me nervous. "So..., uh, you... You want me to do a physical exam on you?"

"Sort of. We'll do some exams on you, and then I'll let you practice some things on me."

"If I'm doing the exam on myself, why would I need to practice on you?" I asked.

"Well, there are things you can't practice on yourself. For example, you can't look into your own eyes or ears."

I nodded and exhaled in relief. He wasn't being weird after all. Or so I thought. "Oh," I giggled off my embarrassment. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"I'll basically coach you through a full physical exam. Here," he said, handing me two tools I didn't know the names of, though I did know what they were used for. "Eyes first, then ears." He rose from his stool and leaned against the table I was sitting on with his hands resting on either side of me. His intrusion into my space had me a little flustered, but I figured he needed to be close if I was to do an eye exam on him. Though, it did feel strange that I was the one sitting on the exam table.

I lifted the equipment, found the switch for the light and looked into Dr. Cameron's hazel eye. And then the other. He took the scope from me and showed me how to do a proper exam, telling me how I should direct a patient to look in different directions and telling me what I should be looking for. I was learning. And he was teaching me.

"You have such pretty eyes, Bonita," he complimented. "So innocent, but with a flicker of wild sensuality just waiting to be released."

Again, his words made my heart flutter. He felt comfortable saying inappropriate but really flattering things to me. I thought about telling him to stop flirting but it would be rude. After all, he was doing me a huge favor. "Thank you," I said, hoping that would be the end of his flirtatious comments.

I picked up the second tool and began to check each of his ears. He subjected himself to me as I did the ear exam with no idea what I was doing, all while he leaned close to me with his strong arms stretched forward beside me. I couldn't wipe the childish grin off my face. It was like a daddy letting his little girl play doctor on him.

Again, I handed him the apparatus and then turned my head, allowing him to show me how it's done. He brushed my hair behind my ear with his finger, tickling me. I giggled.

When he finished one ear, I brushed my own hair behind the other ear as I turned my head. Dr. Camerone still managed to tickle my ear with his finger. It was no mistake. He was lightly caressing my lobe and the back of my ear. Suddenly it was no giggling matter, but a matter of being touched inappropriately, not just stared at and complimented.

It's just my ear, I thought. It's not like he's putting his hand up my thight. Or making me touch him. My own musing scared me. What if he did try to touch my butt, or my boobs, or my...

"Perfect," Doctor said, putting his tools away and picking up something from a jar on the counter. He handed it to me. A tongue depressor. He pulled his stool up close in front of me, and again, I spread my legs to make room for him. I wasn't sure, but I thought he might have been able to see up my short skirt a little from where he was sitting. His face was nearly in my lap as he looked up to me, waiting for me to examine his mouth.

I silenced my flirtation alarms to focus on the task at hand. Again, I mimicked the actions of a doctor, pressing his tongue down with the flat piece of wood and looking inside, unsure what I was supposed to see. When the doctor stood and took the tongue depressor from me, I asked him how to tell a healthy mouth from an unhealthy one.

"Let's see," he said, pressing his thumb gently to my chin to open my mouth. Before I could even object, he was sticking the same tongue depressor in my mouth that was in his. And he slid it all the way to the back of my throat too, pressing down on my tongue. My mouth filled with saliva as I held my mouth open wide, willingly being gagged by a man I had just met. I was confused, a little scared, more than a little nervous, but still, that tinge of excitement I felt grew with the feeling of perceived danger. I did my best to suppress it all.

I coughed when the doctor finally took his stick out of my mouth and smiled down at me, looking in my now glossy eyes. "You have a really pretty mouth, Bonita. Very healthy. All wet and pink. Just like your pussy."

I gasped in shock and surprise. "Doctor! That's..., that's inappropriate! You can't say things like that to me!" I said it with a smile on my face, not like I was being violated by a dangerous man, but like I was scolding a little child for stealing cookies from a jar. I didn't want to antagonize him or cause a real confrontation. I just wanted him to know that I wouldn't stand for his behavior.

"Well, Bonita, your pussy and your mouth are really quite the same. They're made of the same kind of tissue, and when they're healthy, they're both a vibrant pink and can readily be made moist. You asked me how to know your mouth is healthy. I simply gave you an answer, Bonita."

His explanation seemed to make sense. But I still had at least one issue. "But..., do you have to call it my 'pussy?' Aren't you supposed to use the word 'vagina?'"

Dr. Camerone was nonchalant in his reply. "I don't see why. You don't walk around normally and call your head your 'cranium' do you? You had no problem with me referring to it as your throat. Should I have called it your pharynx? We use colloquial terms all the time. Why should that change when we talk about some parts but not others?"

I have to say that it made sense to me. I was naive, maybe, but the argument was solid. And besides, I didn't want to argue. I just wanted to finish the exam, learn a few things, and get my letter of recommendation. "Okay," I digressed. "What's next for the exam?"

The doctor grabbed his stethoscope from a rack on the wall. "Lungs," he said with a grin that had me convinced he was just happy to have a curious student. "We'll listen to yours and then mine." He put his earpieces in and stepped between my open legs. (It was only then I realized I hadn't closed them.) He then pulled part of my blouse aside and put the cold metal circle on the cinnamon skin he had just exposed. There was a lot of his hand around the bell, his fingers and part of his palm touching the bare skin above my breast. My heart tittered at the touch but he did it so casually I was sure everything was normal.

He held the bell to my chest and handed me the eartips. "Here, listen."

I took the tips and heard the sound of my own breathing, somewhat drowned out by the sound of my knocking heartbeat. Just knowing that Doctor had heard how my heart was beating made it beat even faster. He took my hand in his and placed it on the bell of the stethoscope. Just as I began to wonder why, the Doctor began to unfasten the remaining buttons of my blouse. I squealed. "Hey! I can do that!" I said, giggling to add a disarming effect to a very serious objection.

He didn't stop unfastening my buttons. "So can I. Just be quiet and listen." I stopped talking and tried to concentrate on my breathing but my heartbeat kept getting faster and louder as Dr. Camerone's fingers worked on my buttons until my modest white blouse was wide open. My tummy was now uncovered and my fleshy breasts sat up in only my bra.

He took the bell from just above my boob and nuzzled it underneath. Again, his fingers seemed to be just out of place, suspiciously bunched up against my bra cup. I convinced myself it was normal, incidental contact.

"Lord, Bonita," Dr. Camerone sighed. "You have such gorgeous breasts."

I was startled by yet another naughty comment. But rather than give another reprimand of an action that would be skillfully explained away, I thought I'd make a little joke to lighten the tension. "They're called titties, Doctor," I said, maintaining a confident smile and hiding the fact that I was super jittery.

I felt proud that I made him laugh. For some odd reason, I felt the need to impress him. To let him know I was mature enough to handle him. "Right," Doctor said, smiling down at me, his hand in my open blouse, tucked underneath my weighty breast. "Your tits are absolutely beautiful, just like the rest of you. I'm sure your boyfriend loves to lick and suck them. I know I would."

My cheeks flushed and I immediately regretted saying the silly word, 'titties.' He obviously took it as an invite to say more crass things to me. But it was my fault. I shouldn't have encouraged the dirty talk. I looked for an innocuous way to curve the conversation. "I... don't have a boyfriend," I said in a small voice.

The stethoscope, along with Doctor's hand, stayed underneath my breast, tracing the firm crest back and forth. After a while, I felt more hand than metal. He was essentially just groping my breast! But instead of telling him it made me uncomfortable (a half truth at that point), I came up with a different excuse to get him to stop. "Can I listen to yours now?" I asked.

"Of course," he said and handed me the stethoscope. He took one step back and undid the three buttons at his upper chest, then lifted the whole shirt off in one smooth, torso revealing, muscle rippling, schoolgirl pantie wetting motion. Doctor put his shirt neatly aside and stepped back between my spread legs, placing both his palms on my knees. My eyes were glued to his chiseled chest, and his pebbled abs, and his large biceps and his magnificent everything!
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Pub: Dec 22 2020 14:05 UTC
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