An Unorthodox Exercise

“Andre will be with you in a moment.”

The austere blonde receptionist smiles thinly as she takes my name and appointment time. Sliding the glass divider shut, she turns on her high heel and continues to look intently at a wall of filing cabinets.

I find a seat on the far side of the small waiting room. The room is painted a lovely shade of buttercup yellow and several nice prints are on the walls. An attempt to make the room feel warmer and less like a hospital waiting room, I would imagine. You can’t get rid of that smell, though. You know the one; it’s like a cross between an old woman and a musty charity shop, with a sharp hint of pine disinfectant

I am early for my appointment so whilst I wait, I decide to do some of my exercises. Gingerly, I un-strap my wrist from the restricting splint. Gently, I remove the strapping and stretch my fingers. My wrist is still sore and stiff from my accident. I begin to flex it, up, down, left, right. Just like the Physiotherapist showed me when I had the plaster removed last week.

“That’s what I like to see, a patient doing her exercises.”

I jump at the sound of a deep, mellow male voice. Looking up, I am even more startled. He is gorgeous and his eyes twinkle, his mouth stretching into a big smile.

“Sorry to make you jump.” He grins, “I’m Andre and you must be Caitlyn.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I smile and stand.

“Just follow me,” he smiles, his brown eyes glimmering like burnished bronze.

“Okay,” I chirp, my voice catching as I watch him confidently stride away from me and into the treatment room.

“Here, take a seat.”

I sit upon the orange plastic chair and feel my cheeks burning red.

“Okay, Caitlyn�quot; He smiles.

“Call me Katy, everyone else does,” I interrupt before he can go any further; I am not a fan of my full name, only my mum still insists on calling me by it.

“Okay, Katy.”

Again, he looks me straight in the eye. I can only take so much of his confident gaze before dropping my eye level. That makes me blush more, as I imagine what his strong chest must be like under the white uniform.

“So, obviously it’s your left wrist you’ve broken.”

His voice lilts, softly wrapping his accent around the harshness of the English language; he sounds local to Liverpool, yet not roughly so. I nod in agreement.

“And you had two pins inserted?”

Again I nod and he sits down upon the bed to the left of me, picking up a clipboard and a ball point pen.

“How did you do it?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

I carry on, having heard every possible joke over the last eight weeks, “And no, I wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t pushed. I tripped over my own feet.”

“It’s easily done,” Andre replies and runs a hand through the thick, dark-chocolate hair that has fallen into his eyes, simultaneously clearing his view and making my vision blur with longing. Andre continues to ask about my injury and all about myself.

“I’m left handed,” I tell him. “I do everything with my left hand.”

I can’t believe I’m being so blatantly sexual. My masturbatory habits have been seriously affected; maybe the build up of sexual urgency is making me do strange, un-Katy like things.

“Oh no!” He winks, making my cheeks deepen to a dark-pink blush. “This must be really frustrating for you then.”

I watch as he shuffles in his seat. I wonder if he is feeling as erotically charged as I am.

“Okay. I just need to know what job you do.”

“I’m a writer,” I reply, dreading the next, inevitable question.

“What do you write?”

“Romance novels,” I reply, lying slightly, I can’t bring myself to tell him I write erotica. It’s possibly the most ironic possible job, a virgin erotica writer. Little does anyone know that my sexual descriptions all come from self-exploration and the use of some hastily-purchased sex toys.

“Very interesting.”

Andre’s voice cuts into my self-pleasuring thoughts and once again I jump a little in my skin.

“Oh, and one last question. I hate asking it but it’s on my list.”

“Fire ahead.”

“Has your injury affected your sex life?”

I blush dark crimson now, noticing I am not the only one.

“I can see why you don’t like asking it!” I giggle, trying to make light of the issue, “but no, I’m a virgin. So you don’t have to worry about my sex life!”

“Oh,” he exclaims, looking shocked. He’s probably never met a twenty-five year old virgin before.

“Right, let’s get a closer look at this wrist.”

An effective way to change the subject. I gasp as Andre puts down the clipboard and shuffles to the edge of the bed. At his signal, I lay my hands upon the towel-covered table before me and follow his instructions so he can see the difference in movement between the two.

“Is it very painful?”

“Pretty painful.” I smile.

“Okay, well I won’t poke at it too much today, then. We’ll make an appointment for next week. By then I should be able to manipulate it without it giving you much discomfort. I’m going to have a feel at your wrist and hand, though, just to assess it.”

“Okay,” I smile. All I can hear is the thump, thump, thump of my heart booming in my head as Andre’s hand moves to grasp mine. His touch is soft and gentle; his hands well looked after. The fingers, long and supple, would feel wonderful playing with my…

“OW!”

I jump on reflex and move my right hand to cover Andre’s in an attempt to pull it away.

“Sorry,” I stammer when I realise what I have done, quickly I snatch my hand away. “It was a reflex.”

“It’s okay, Katy.” He smiles at me. “Some people’s instincts lead to me getting a fat lip.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry I hurt you. I needed to know how much mobility you had in your wrist. Obviously not much yet.” His eyes sparkle as his hand rests over mine, his thumb rubbing slow circles.

“Anyway,” he lets out a long, shuddering breath and lifts his hand away from mine. “Continue with your exercises and I’ll see you the same time next week.”

“Thanks,” I smile. “See you.”

It’s probably my over-active writer’s imagination, but I swear I can feel his eyes upon my back and generous buttocks as I walk out of the room. I find myself swinging my hips slightly, in hope he is looking.

As I walk home, I whistle and murmur love songs, my mind totally consumed by Andre. I get home and run to my computer. Suddenly, I have the inspiration to write again.

* * * *

A week passes quickly and once again I sit in the physiotherapy waiting room. Almost unconsciously I have dressed up a little this time. My prettiest bra and knickers are covered with a short, floaty summer dress. The flowers on it look like they’re dancing in the wind as I walk.

“You look lovely and cool.”

Andre’s voice reaches out from the physio ward

“Oh, hi,” I smile and blush, standing to walk over to him. “Yeah, I am really glad I’m out of plaster for this heat wave. Though this damn splint isn’t much better.”

Andre nods distractedly, his cheeks red and his eyes glazed.

“Follow me.”

He coughs and leads me to a curtained-off cubicle. Again he makes me show him my hands and my exercises.

“Good,” he smiles. “I can tell you’ve been exercising your wrist.”

I look up at him and smile. If only he knew how. I’d spent hours typing a new erotica novel in the past seven days and each night I would try to use my left wrist to satisfy the niggling itch left over from my sexual writings. I feel a thrill rushing through me as I notice him squirm on the bed, his cheeks flushing. Maybe he can read my mind.

I watch closely as he manipulates my wrist, up and down, pressing hard and making his muscles strain. In his short-sleeved uniform I can see his biceps flex and I realise how much hard work he must put into his job each day.

“You’re fit,” I exclaim.

He looks up from my wrist, looking slightly confused.

“I mean, erm�to, erm�do this. You have big muscles. I mean, it must be hard work…”

My words collapse in on themselves and I get buried in the landslide. I might be able to build with words on paper, but in real life they often end up falling down and getting me into trouble.

“Oh, yeah.” A mischievous glint shines in his eye. “It’s an incredibly physical job.”

I smile and feel my blush receding. The blood rushing from my cheeks makes me feel a little dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Andre placing a hand upon my shoulder. “You just lost a lot of color in your face.”

The pressure of his strong hand reassures me and enflames me. I feel safe and secure yet wild and dangerous all at the same moment; I smile and nod.

“I’m fine,” I manage to blurt. “I just went a little dizzy.”

I feel a squeeze then the weight is lifted. My body craves to feel those fingers again the instant they’re moved.

“Let me get you some water.”

He disappears out of the cubicle and I run a hand through my long straight hair in an unconscious, settling act. I am just pulling on the hem of my skirt when Andre walks back in.

I jump, causing the hem of my skirt to rise on my thigh. “Here’s your water,” he chirps, thrusting a plastic cup towards me

I lift my hand to receive it, but I am now unable to pull my skirt back down with my left wrist injured and my right hand filled. I take a slow sip, savouring the icy coolness washing down my throat. It suffuses my whole body with its chill. As I look over the rim of my plastic cup, I notice Andre’s gaze firmly fixed on the exposed length of my thigh.

“That’s better.” I smile and take pleasure in seeing him jump nervously, jolted from his dream world. “Where shall I put this?” I indicate my water cup, still half full.

“Here, I’ll take it.”

As our hands meet, I get nervous and let go a second before I should. The plastic cup drops and lands in my lap, its contents splashing all over my dress.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Andre says, grabbing the paper lining off the bed and dabbing away at my stomach, thighs and up to my breasts.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him in short gasps. My nipples are painfully erect from the effects of the icy water and Andre’s dabbing. He looks up at me and I see uncertainty in his eyes.

“Thanks for cleaning me up.” I smile and place my good hand upon his shoulder, squeezing to let him know his actions didn’t upset me.

“Alright,” he sighs shakily, straightening at the same time.

I giggle, despite my nerves. “I’ll air dry on the way home,” I say, and see the worried look lift from Andre’s eyes.

“Sorry about that.” He smiles, and I notice yet again how thick and pink his lips are and think how much I’d like to feel them upon my skin

“Don’t worry, I’m back next week. I can get my revenge then,” I quip as I stand and brush the hem of my skirt down to my knees.

“I look forward to it.” He smiles back and we share a moment of laughter, his mellow tones blending with my high-pitched girlish giggle.

* * * *

The summer months passed. Soon my weekly physiotherapy sessions were reduced to fortnightly. I began to realise that I had to do something.

Andre, though seemingly confident, had not made a move to ask me out or anything of the like. I guessed that had something to do with me being a patient and hoped that was the case. I was certain he was attracted to me, but maybe my sexual need was sending me confused signals. You can never quite tell.

Each visit was filled with laughter and conversation. I found out we enjoyed the same authors and same television programmes. We even shared our sense of humour. Each time, I came away from the visit longing for Andre’s healing touch on places other than my wrist.

So I plotted. I hummed and I hawed and eventually a plan of seduction was created�and ready for use.

* * * *

I walk into the waiting room, very late for my appointment, puffing and blowing. My hair is windswept and my cheeks rosy from exertion.

“Andre!” I shout, seeing him just inside the physio room.

“Hey, Katy.” His handsome face flowers into a smile. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.” A cheeky wink accompanies his comment

“Nearly,” I pant. “Sorry, I was so caught up in my latest story I totally forgot the time. I’ve run all the way here.”

I hadn’t really; I’d just hurried the last steps through the corridor whilst running my hands through my hair and pinching my cheeks, rushing past confused orderlies and patients alike.

“Well everyone else is gone, I was just going to pack up myself…but you’re here now. Let’s look at this wrist.”

“It’s feeling much better,” I tell him. “I don’t use the splint at all. It just gets in the way.”

“That is good.” He smiles as he leads me into an empty booth. I sit in the plastic chair and rest my hands on the table in front of me.

“Hang on a minute. I’m just going to lock the door. We should have all gone home by now, and I could get in trouble for seeing someone after the physio clinic is shut.”

“Oh, I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I emphatically exclaim.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “you won’t, but I’ll lock the door to be safe.”

“Okay, well if you’re sure,” I call after him, watching his buttocks swing as he walks. I here the clink, clunk of a key turning in a lock and soon Andre is back in the fabric cubical.

“We’ll have to roll up those sleeves, Katy.”

Andre pointed to the long sleeved magenta top I was wearing, the sleeves tightly cinched round my wrist.

“Oh, hell.” I exclaim. “I can’t roll this sleeve up, it’s too tight.” I pull and tug on the cotton material for emphasis. “I totally forgot I had it on.”

“Well�quot; Andre let the word roll out. I could almost hear the cogs spinning in his brain. “You’ll have to take the top off, then.”

“Yeah, I suppose I will.”

I hide my smile and slowly lift the top over my head, pulling it off my arms and away from my wrists. Carefully, I fold it and place it on the table, my hands on top of it.

Of course, I had on my latest purchase, a bra that I chose especially for this occasion. Deep, sensuous red in color with all lace panels, so you can see my breasts and nipples through the weave of the material.

It sculpts to my form perfectly, pushing up and out the heavy flesh of my bosom. It and the red lace full knickers to match cost me a small fortune, but I knew they would be worth every penny.

Pushing my arms straight out in front of me pulls my breasts closer together and pushes them up, spilling ever so slightly over the cup. Andre’s ragged breathing is clearly audible. The physio department, usually buzzing with activity, is now eerily quiet.

He clears his throat.

“Right, then.”

He sits on the bed next to me to do the same old exercises.

Normally the banter is flowing by now. Today, there is a sense of something about to happen and an erotic silence falls between us. I see his eyes wandering to my breasts, then darting back to my hands.

Our eyes meet once and he knows I see him looking. He squirms in the seat and firmly grasps my left wrist.

“You know the drill, Katy. If it hurts, just yell.”

I giggle at the weak joke, too loudly. It echoes around the room, then is eaten up by the silence.

Andre leans in and over my wrist, further than usual. I guess it is to try and get my breasts out of his line of vision.

A deep musk fills my senses. A sharp tang of eucalyptus and a deeper more masculine scent underlies it. Andre turns his head to me, obviously to say something and my body takes over. As soon as I see those pouty lips, I press my own to them. I feel his body tense with the surprise and I shut my eyes tight, almost holding my breath, hoping to the high heavens I haven’t misread the signs.

The touch of his lips is electric. My lips are on fire, prickly and lusting to move. I can’t press the kiss further until I know he wants it. The time drags on, our lips brushing together. I feel like crying; the torture of being so close but not sure if I am doing the right thing pulls at my guts.

Just as I contemplate pulling away and running out of the room, to hide myself away from the world for the next millennia, the pressure of Andre’s lips grow. His right hand moves up my naked arm still it rests upon my shoulder, the other hand coming round my body, gathering me close. My hands dislodge from the table, making it fall to the floor.

His lips part and press deeper into my own. I press back, my body elated and relieved, my hands snaking up his body to rest on his cheeks, pulling him harder into the kiss. I can feel a nerve pulsing under his skin. I can feel the tension running through his body, centring upon the place where our lips join.

I feel his hands roam upwards and into my hair, cradling the back of my head as the kiss deepens. I part my lips and feel his tongue darting through, finding my own and gently caressing it, stirring it to wrap itself around this pleasant invader.

Suddenly, he disengages from the kiss and his lips move along to my cheek, down onto my sensitive neck, where he proceeds to nibble.

I gasp in delight as Andre uncovers one of my most responsive erogenous zones. My hands reach up and round into his long thick hair, pulling his head closer to my neck, prompting him to nip and nibble my pink flesh.

“Oh, Katy,” he groans as he comes up for air, pausing only a moment before continuing down my neck to the curve of my heaving chest. Sweet little kisses flutter along the topside of my confined breasts and as Andre’s mouth introduces itself his hands rudely greet them, tugging and pulling them out of the bra, letting them hang obscenely over the stretched red lace.

His mouth kisses down onto my left breast, gently, slowly, tentatively. My hand brushes through his hair, encouraging him to boldness as he clasps my very hard nipple between his lips, sucking it like a sore thumb.

“Andre!” I cry in ecstatic abandon as my virgin body responds to the ravages of this mans talented, lustful mouth and hands. He slides over to sample the other side, the shock of the cold air on my wet nipple sending pleasurable shockwaves to my pussy. My eyes close and I throw my head back, forcing my breasts into his face.

My hand rest upon his shoulders, my fingers curling into his flesh as his teeth nibble and pluck at my sensitive nub. Suddenly, Andre pulls away, standing up straight he gasps for breath.

“Katy… we shouldn’t be doing this, we’re meant to be exercising your wrist…”

“Andre,” I butt in, raw emotion catching in the back of my throat. I can’t bare rejection now. My tear glazed eyes look into his.

“Please?”

It is the only word that will come out of my mouth. I have so much I want to say, but I can’t. My mouth and mind are just not on the same track. I plead with him with watery blue eyes.

Andre takes a deep breath.

“I know a rather unorthodox wrist-exercising programme. Are you willing to give it a go?”

“Yes,” I answer, delirious from lack of his touch.

I watch as he unbuttons his uniform, dropping the long white overall to the floor. Next he pulls off his t-shirt, exposing his chest to my hungry gaze. A smattering of hair tickles around his nipples, and his chest is flushed red with lust and exertion.

I hear a zipper and watch his hand hovering over his crotch. In one movement he pulls down his trousers and boxers, and I am greeted by the most sexually exciting vision of my life. Beneath the material of his trousers, something amazing hid. Now it is exposed to my sight and I feel in awe of its sheer masculinity. I want to feel it, touch it, and explore it.

It has similarities with the plastic dildos I play with at home, yet is alive and so very different. Threaded with little blue veins the purple redness of his cock intrigues me. The stiff tautness of the skin and the sheer density of the flesh makes me want to examine it closely and in depth.

I want to weigh those balls in my hands, feel the light growth of hair tickling my palms. I want to know what a real cock feels like in my hand, in my mouth and in my cunt.

“Okay then, first exercise.”

Andre walks towards me, putting himself within reach of my hands.

“Use your left hand to pleasure my cock.”

I strain my neck back on the chair to look up into his gleaming eyes.

“That is if… err… you want to.”

I love seeing the little boy in him, seeing that vulnerability.

To answer him, I reach out my left hand and tentatively touch the tip of the magnificent manhood in front of me.

I let my fingers flutter over the surface, feeling the sticky wetness of pre-cum on the tip and the hard heat of the shaft. I move my fingers up and down the body of the cock and then onto the balls.

Gently I caress them, stroke them, run the tightening bag of skin through my fingers, gently squeezing the testicles within.

Andre gasps and moans as I explore, occasionally rocking his hips forward.

After a while inspecting, I take my small hand and wrap it around his cock. I squeeze tentatively, loving the feel of it, like putty beneath my fingers.

Slowly, I begin to stroke, gripping lightly, not wanting to hurt him. As I gain confidence, I squeeze tighter and feel him rocking in and out of my hand, aiding the friction.

“Is…your�your… wrist okay?”" he pants.

“Fine, doctor,” I tease, “but it is starting to ache.” With great restraint he moves his hand to cover mine, removing it from his member.

“Okay then, rest for a while.”

He sits down on the bed, his cock now at my breast level. I turn my chair so I am facing him straight on, scooting my chair closer so my knees, resting together, rub against the cold plastic covering of the mechanical hospital bed.

I watch fascinated as he takes himself in hand. The author in me takes in every detail. How he pulls his foreskin up and down, enveloping the cock head completely and then rapidly revealing it to my sight.

I lean closer. Acting on instinct, I lick out and flick my tongue across the very tip of him. I taste the salty mellowness of his juices and I want more. His cock slips into my mouth easily, and I feel it grow between my lips as I suck upon it, enjoying this new taste sensation.

Musty, sweaty, masculine and intoxicating, the taste of Andre’s hot cock is addictive and I find myself bobbing my head up and down upon his shaft, taking long sucks to savour the flavour.

“Katy, I’m going to come, love…oh Katy!”

Being a good erotica writer, I know girls are meant to swallow. I keep my mouth firmly suctioned around his cock as Andre begins to buck and tighten, his hands running into my hair and almost painfully scrunching into it.

His cock swells and I hear him groan. I feel something hit the back of my mouth, once, twice and again. I fight to swallow it all and succeed. I love the deep intense flavour of him, savour its taste.

I look up at him, and smile, licking my lips.

“Mmm�yummy.” I wink at him and he wraps his arms around me.

“Thank you,” he whispers in my ear. “That’s stage one completed.”

I giggle as I reply, “What’s next on my wrist exercising regime?”

“Hop up on the bed, young lady.”

Andre stands up the same time I do, allowing me to the room to hop up on the bed, leaning ’til I rest on the angled back and stretch my legs out straight in front of me.

Andre takes the plastic chair and places it directly at the end of the bed.

“Lift your skirt for me,” he asks and happily I comply, flashing my red lace encased pussy.

“Take off those knickers.”

Having Andre “ordering” me has a profound effect. I feel naughty and incredibly excited. I long to please him.

“Spread your legs and masturbate for me. Use your left hand, exercise it some more.”

“Yes, doctor.” I look deep into his eyes and playfully wink.

Taking a deep breath, I brush my left hand over my breasts and stomach, running my fingers through my sparse pussy hair and then ploughing between my wet labia, pressing against my clit as I pass.

I groan and close my eyes, pressing my middle finger deep into my pussy, loving the feel of it slipping in, aided by the copious amount of juice I have already produced. I watch my finger slide in and out of my cunt, whilst the fingers on my right hand stroke and part my pussy lips, so that Andre can get a better view.

I hear a deep, strangled moan and open my eyes.

Andre sits rigid in the plastic chair, his eyes fixed on my pussy and my fingers, idly playing with his cock. I notice that it seems to be coming back to life and I feel a surge of pleasure course through my body, causing my pussy to clamp down over my finger.

I pull my juice-soaked digit from my cunt and take it to my lips. I rest it casually upon my pout and slowly open my mouth, keeping my eyes fixed on Andre the whole time. He watches as I slip my finger into my mouth, slowly locking my lips around it and pulling it back out, making appreciative yummy noises.

“Oh, fuck.”

Andre is visibly shaken by my action and his eyes trail down my body as my finger returns to the throbbing ache between my thighs. I hit my clit straight away, needing to come. No more teasing, no more playing; this is it. I rub the pad of my index finger against my clit in a circular motion, winding myself up like one of those old fashioned crank started cars.

“STOP!” Andre cries out. Reluctantly, I pull my hand away from my dripping cunt.

I have barely moved my hand before Andre is crawling onto the bed. Next thing I know, his mouth is firmly placed around my pussy lips and he is sucking, licking up my feminine juices. His lips and tongues drive me wild, making me thrash and toss around on the bed, biting down on my lip as his tongue catches my clit.

His tongue thrashes backwards and forwards over my clit, rhythmically driving me crazy. I drive my fingers into his thick hair, holding it, twisting it; pushing his face deeper into me.

“Oh, Andre.”

I gasp as my body begins to shiver and shake. He forces his head away from my throbbing cunt. I let go of his hair and groan loudly.

“I want you,” Andre says, looking into my eyes. I can see my own juices glimmering around his lips and his chin; I can smell the deep dusky smell of my hot cunt emanating from his face. Andre’s eyes search mine. Looking for permission to do something to me I have never done. He knows the significance of this act.

“I want you, too,” I reply, tears forming. I desperately need to feel this man inside me. He’s the one, and I know it deep down in the very core of my soul.

Andre quickly scrambles off the bed, allowing me to see his dark manhood in full bloom once again. I gasp in delight and feel my stomach squirm in excitement. He goes to his trousers and pulls out a little packet. I watch, fascinated, as he takes out the little latex circle and places it round his cock. Gently, carefully he rolls it down and I smile. He wants me and he wants me to be safe. I know I have made the right decision now, not just one fuelled by the lust of the moment. Again, he crawls back on the bed, between my still spread legs. Excitement surges through me. I may explode with excitement before he even touches me.

He slides up higher, so close I can feel his chest rubbing against my nipples and his cock tickling at my inner thigh. He looks me straight in the eye, again questioning, putting me in control. I bite my lip and incline my head slightly, nodding my ascent. He nudges closer, dipping his groin to bump against mine. I close my eyes and enjoy the intimate feeling of his cock against my pussy lips.

His hand moves between our bodies. Grabbing his cock, he aims it at my tight hole. Soon I feel him penetrating.

“Oh.” I gasp, and he stops. I open my eyes and smile at him, stroking his cheek to let him know I am okay, that the feeling of him sliding inside me is overwhelming my senses and making my whole body aware of how I am opening up. He continues to push and slips inside me. I feel him stretching me; it is not an uncomfortable feeling and I know my juices will aid his journey.

The feeling of a real cock, even encased in a thin plastic shield, is completely different from a plastic phallus. I can feel him throb, his cock head pulsating inside me. The weight of Andre’s body on top of me, the feel of his breath against my cheek, the smell of his musk combining with mine. Everything comes together to bombard my senses, making me dizzy with ecstatic feelings. And he’s not even thrusting yet.

“It’s amazing,” I croon, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight as he sinks his whole length inside of me. I feel him moving, pulling out and thrusting in. Over and over he continues this, each stroke making me groan and each slam making me squeal. The friction drives me wild. I reach my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me, pulling his body hard against my own, my nipples pinpoints of searing pleasure against the hard flesh of his hair-encrusted chest.

My whole body shaking. I instinctively dig my fingers into his back and clasp my legs tighter, little shocks of ecstasy flooding my whole body, a great pressure point building in my cunt. I gasp for air, feeling dizzy and excited, my eyes squeezed shut, enjoying the feel of our joining.

“Oh, Katy!” Andre shouts, burying his face in my shoulder, his lips pressing against my sensitive neck, his teeth gently grazing the skin.

As his teeth burrow into my skin, almost painfully so, I feel him slam into me hard and deep. I feel him throbbing and straining and my body begins to shake and shiver in response. I feel the pressure dissipating, exploding in shards, my cunt squeezing so tight I can feel Andre contracting inside of me.

Going limp, Andre kisses my neck gently, in apology for biting me in the heat of the moment. I slip my fingers through his hair, enjoying the proximity of his body to mine, feeling our hearts beat rapidly, our chests rising and falling as a result of our coupling.

A glorious warm sense of well-being suffuses my whole body and I wrap my arms tightly around Andr� pulling him even closer to me.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Hell yes,” I reply. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” He winks and slips away from me, off the bed to begin the search for his clothes.

“I need to lock up and go, Katy. I’m sorry we can’t stay here any longer.”

“I understand.” I grin, setting about finding my clothes and getting dressed.

“Do you fancy going out for a bite to eat?” Andre asks as he pulls on his t-shirt.

“Yeah, I’m starving. But we can’t. I’m your patient,” I say, baiting him, a twinkle in my eye.

“My Dear Katy, you are henceforth discharged from my care. Your wrist is nigh on healed. Also, you now have your own private physiotherapist.”

“Oh, really? How much do you charge?” My eyebrow arches as I play along.

“You can pay me in sexual favours.” His dark eyes sparkle mischievously

“Right then, Lets go find some dinner, then I think I’ll need another physio session. Are you up to it, though?”

“I am sure I will be!” He laughs heartily

“I’ll see to that.” I quip as he re-locks the physio department door behind us.