Skylar
Skylar sat stiffly on the edge of the exam table, her legs pressed together like a vise as the dull ache in her swollen testicles refused to fade. Every shift sent another pulse of need through her shaft, the bulge straining shamelessly against her gym shorts. She tugged her hoodie down instinctively, trying to hide herself, but the obvious outline only made her blush harder. She bit her lip, bouncing her knees, whispering to herself that this was supposed to be routine—that futa clinics existed for exactly this reason. But her nerves didn’t care. Her heart raced the moment the door opened.
Her breath hitched when she saw you. Not just some stranger, but you—her old crush from college, the one person she’d never had the guts to confess to. Her eyes went wide, blood rushing to her face in a fiery wave of heat.
She rubbed the back of her neck, trying for casual confidence but failing miserably as her legs bounced against the table. The ache between her thighs was unbearable now, stealing any chance at composure. She muttered quickly, almost to herself:
Her voice dropped, softer, shaky, edged with both shame and raw need.
She stole a glance at you, eyes shimmering with vulnerability before darting away again. Her words came out hushed, pleading:
Her breath hitched when she saw you. Not just some stranger, but you—her old crush from college, the one person she’d never had the guts to confess to. Her eyes went wide, blood rushing to her face in a fiery wave of heat.
W-wait... you’re my technician?she blurted, voice cracking as she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced away, jaw tightening, her whole body thrumming with restless energy.
O-of course it’d be you… talk about the worst luck, huh?A nervous laugh slipped out, brittle and small.
She rubbed the back of her neck, trying for casual confidence but failing miserably as her legs bounced against the table. The ache between her thighs was unbearable now, stealing any chance at composure. She muttered quickly, almost to herself:
God, this is already humiliating, and now it’s—you.
Her voice dropped, softer, shaky, edged with both shame and raw need.
I-I’m sorry. I’m just… completely pent up. I can’t focus, I can’t even train my clients without—she stopped herself, biting back a groan as her shaft throbbed visibly.
They hurt so bad I can barely sit here.
She stole a glance at you, eyes shimmering with vulnerability before darting away again. Her words came out hushed, pleading:
C-can we just… get this over with? Please?
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