All people sooner or later get here and this is far from paradise. This dogs, if you believe the saying goes, lucky more and they all end up in paradise, and we are brought to the hospital. In this institution, in which, contrary to all medical procedures, patients recover as flies. But still, sometimes such a time comes that we have no choice and they bring us here or we go here ourselves. So once and I had no choice, and I spent a long two weeks in the hospital. During this time, I was a little cut, cleaned, sewn and even treated. And surprisingly, in general, I was pleased.

I felt better, I was discharged almost healthy and I am very grateful to my doctor in charge, Denis Viktorovich Mikhailov, this man of fifty years old, who took me under his “wing”. He is the one who operated on me, who treated me and regularly conducted examinations, sitting me in a gynecological chair. And these moments especially touched me. The doctor sat me in a chair and inspected, accepted to write something in my medical card, putting it on a table between my splayed legs and interviewed me, but it seemed that he was not speaking to me, but to mine, I apologize, pussy and talking to her. I did not mind, and even amused myself with such inspections, but I can’t say anything for others.

It was a July night, and in spite of the slightly open window transom, it was quite stuffy in a room for five people. The coolness of the night, the hot city, weakly penetrated the window slot, but in spite of this it didn’t stop my peers from sleeping and even snoring in their sleep. Night silence enveloped the gynecological department of the city hospital. Everybody slept. Everything but me. Having read the book since the evening, I did not notice how I fell asleep in sound sleep. Strong but short and at one in the morning I was already awake awake from the demanding urge of my letter. Evening tea and a glass of kefir for the night demanded a way out. I had to obey. I got up, went, satisfied the urge, lay down on the flank and everything, and as they say in one eye. I was spinning from side to side, I counted numerous flocks of sheep and sheep, all of them all together.

I stood at the window. Sat Again lay, but all to no avail. Sleep stubbornly did not want to return to me. Having suffered this way for more than an hour, I finally decided to ask for help from the nurse on duty. Today Natasha or Natasha sat at the post in the center of the department. A charming and sympathetic woman of about thirty years old, about which I still have the warmest and fondest memories. When our Natasha came to work, our entire department literally bloomed, smelled and smelled of the most wonderful scent of her French perfumes, a terrible shortage at that time. Her smile like a little sun illuminated our gloomy chambers, and her perky laughter healed us better than any medicine. A small growth, a little plump, but not to be confused with a fat one, she rolled around the corridor like a cone filling the chamber and our female diseased bodies with warmth and good mood. She was, although I really hope that there is still, an extraordinary miracle, with which I was fortunate enough to get to know each other very closely.

Quietly, trying not to wake anyone up, I left the chamber and, like a moth, headed for the light of the desk lamp of the duty nurse’s post, but I was disappointed. Natasha was not in place. The post was empty. There was a mug of tea on the table, a bitten pie with cabbage, an open book, all of which indicated that it should have been somewhere here, but it was not there anywhere. I looked around, waited, and already wanted to go back to the ward, when something quietly rang behind me, slurred, and it seemed to me to moan weakly. I turned round sharply, but found nothing.Moving away a little from the post, I looked at the dark space of the corridor. Everything was quiet and calm, and only through a loosely closed door to the treatment room did a faintly stripe of light penetrate. Ready or not, here I come! Natashik ay, I'm going to look for you! And with a confident step, I headed towards the treatment room. Perhaps culture is my weakness, but not then.

Going to the door so as not to make any noise, I did not knock and shout to the whole corridor. - Can I? - but simply, stretching out her hand gently pushed the door. The door jerked silently and gently drove off to the side passing me into the moonlit room. Dark and empty, but after all I saw the light, albeit weak, but still light. Curiosity killed the cat. The woman is the same cat, and I, having failed to contain my curiosity, having closed the door behind me, sneaked in. The office met me with the silence of the night and only moon bunnies hid in brilliant reflections on the metal surfaces of gynecological instruments, in flat rows laid out in glass cabinets. I looked around. Well, here is Natasha, I found you, I saw the light. Behind one of the glass cabinets there was a door to the viewing room, which was ajar and because of which a rather bright light was pouring. I had already stretched out my hand towards the door, intending to fling it open when repeated squealing sounds and a faint moan repeated, making me stand still, and a sudden pleasant weakness spread over the bottom of my stomach. I still didn’t know what was going on there, behind the door ajar, but my female instinct and intuition had already given command to my body, making it tremble. I could not be mistaken in these characteristic sounds.

Behind the door someone had sex. Standing on tiptoe, I crept up and peeked into the crack. The bright white light of a spotlight mounted on a long tripod illuminated the crotch of a woman lying in the gynecological chair. Her tanned legs in white shoes were widely divorced and lay on the chrome-plated metal coasters, trembling nervously with excitement. The floors of the dressing gown hung like two large white wings from a chair dropping to the floor, revealing a completely naked naked female body. Her elastic breasts were heaving and trembling with large areoles of swollen brown nipples. With one hand, the woman covered her mouth trying to hold back the moans breaking from her lips, and with the fingers of the other she helped a man who, with her face buried in her face, licked her crotch, stretching her genital slit.

- Denis, Mmmmm, Denis Viktorovich is enough. I can not do it anymore. Lick a clitoris, - easy as a breeze, flew to me, a voice of the overexcited woman, - leave a hole. Lick the clitoris. Let cum. Oh please...
- Be patient, be patient, - looking up from the pussy of the woman and wiping the face smeared in female secretions with the edge of her robe, the man said in a commanding tone with the edge of her robe, - Be patient, then end up with a fountain. You now have a clitoris burst, if you only saw how he now sulked. Just a balloon, a balloon. Now I’m hoping for him even more. Watch out - and the man again stuck his lips to this magic button, leading the woman into a frenzy. Her body trembled violently, and she twisted her open thighs even more to meet the sweet torture, and the room was filled with the rattling of a woman on the verge of an orgasm.
Denis or Denis Mikhailov, for it was he, my doctor, and today also the doctor on duty in the department, literally reveled in his power over the trembling female body, which rather belonged to Natasha. After all, the two of them, the only of the entire medical staff, today remained on night duty.

Natasha, trembling all over and plaintively, shutting her mouth with her fist, whined, and Denis, sticking out her tongue, with broad strokes, starting from the priests and ending at the pubis, licked her pussy with a flourish, sometimes lingering on the ball of the clitoris, dancing on it with the tip of the tongue and bringing the woman almost that hysterically slid off him, starting his lewd dance again.The man was pleased and his whole face glowed with pleasure, he was like a hawk, spreading the wings of a snow-white robe, stuck out his tongue, and attacked the flesh of a defenseless languishing victim. The kite was sitting on top of a white spinning chair in one dressing gown without pants, with one hand pulling aside the tormented female flesh, and the second frantically nadrachivaya, standing with a stake, hilly ... Read more →