My OBGYN Makes Me Squirt for the First Time

The paper gown sticks to the backs of my thighs the second I settle on the exam table. It is thin enough that the air from the vent raises goosebumps along my arms, and thin enough that my nipples show through it, dark and already tight. I am thirty-two. I have been wet since Terrence locked the car in the garage. My husband sits on the rolling stool beside me, thirty-five, still in his work shirt with the sleeves shoved up, and his palm is heavy on the inside of my bare knee. We have talked about this for months. We booked it on purpose. Dr. Gideon agreed, and he told us he would bring a colleague who had agreed too. Nothing about today is a surprise. My cunt still clenches like it might be.

“You’re shaking,” Terrence says. His thumb strokes once, slow, and stops just short of where I want it.

“I know.” My voice comes out smaller than I feel. “Don’t stop touching me.”

He doesn’t. The clock ticks. The stirrups are already out, metal and cold, waiting. I keep my knees together and feel how slick I am between them, how the paper under my ass is going to show it the second I open. My heart knocks so hard I can hear it in my ears. When the door opens I almost moan from the sound alone.

Dr. Gideon comes in first. Forty-six, broad through the shoulders, white coat open over a dark shirt, salt at his temples, hands that look like they know exactly what they are for. Behind him is Dr. Dominic, forty-four, a little leaner, darker eyes, the same coat, the same calm that turns into heat the moment he looks at my chest. Both of them stop. Both of them look at the stiff points of my nipples pressing the gown. Gideon’s mouth curves, not the polite exam-room smile. Something lower.

“Selena,” he says. “Terrence. You still want this the way we discussed?”

“Yes,” I say, before my husband can. “I want all of it. I want you to make me come. I want to try to squirt. I’ve never done it. I want you both, and I want him. Don’t be gentle unless I say so.”

Terrence’s fingers tighten on my thigh. “She’s been dripping since we pulled in. Use her. She asked me to say that out loud so nobody wonders.”

Dominic shuts the door and turns the lock. The click goes straight to my clit. “Then lie back,” he says, voice already rough. “Feet in the stirrups. Gown up. Let us see what we’ve been promised.”

I do it. The paper crackles. My heels settle into the cold metal and my knees fall open because Terrence’s hand guides them, and the gown bunches at my waist. Cool air hits my pussy. I am shaved, swollen, shining. I can feel a string of wetness slip down toward my ass and I don’t close my legs. Gideon steps between them. Dominic moves to my side. Terrence stays at my shoulder, close enough that I can smell his skin, his eyes on my cunt like he has never seen it before.

“Christ,” Gideon murmurs. Two gloved fingers hover, not touching yet. “Look at that. She’s soaked and we haven’t even started the exam.”

“She gets like that when she knows she’s going to be used,” Terrence says. His voice has dropped. “Spread her. She wants your fingers in her while we watch.”

Gideon’s gloves are warm from his hands. He parts me with his thumbs, slow, clinical for one second and then not. My lips open. My clit stands up, flushed and bare. Dominic leans in until I feel his breath.

“Pretty little hole,” Dominic says. “Already fluttering. You going to be a good patient and take what we give you?”

“Yes.” I am breathing too fast. “Please start. I’ve been aching.”

Gideon slides one finger in. Just one. It goes easy, obscenely easy, and the sound is wet. My hips jerk. He curls it, tests, then adds the second, and the stretch makes my mouth fall open. He doesn’t rush. He fucks them in and out at a doctor’s pace while he talks, low and filthy, about how soft I am, how my walls are grabbing, how he can feel me trying to pull him deeper. Terrence’s hand slides up my ribs under the gown and finds a nipple. He pinches. I gasp.

“More,” I say. “You’re being too careful.”

“Listen to her,” Terrence says. He sounds proud and hungry at once. “She told me in the car she wants to be finger-fucked until she makes a mess. Don’t hold back because I’m here. I’m here to watch you ruin her.”

Gideon’s wrist angles. His fingers turn up and press, and the pressure hits a spot so deep and specific that my whole belly tightens. I make a sound I don’t recognize. Dominic’s gloved hand settles on my lower stomach and pushes down while Gideon strokes that place again, firmer, a steady ruthless rub.

“There,” Gideon says. “That’s it. Feel that swell? That’s where I’m going to make you break.”

“Oh God.” My thighs shake in the stirrups. “That’s— that’s too much. Don’t stop. Terrence, it’s— he’s right on it.”

“I see you,” my husband says. He kisses my temple once, quick, then goes back to my nipple, rolling it hard. “Stay open. Let them hear how wet you are.”

Dominic peels a glove off with his teeth and puts his bare fingers on my clit. The contrast makes me cry out. He circles, light at first, then tighter, while Gideon’s two fingers piston against that swollen ridge inside me. The pressure builds in a way I have never felt. Not the usual climb. Something heavier, lower, like I have to piss and come at the same time and my body doesn’t know which door to open. I grab the edge of the table. My hips try to twist away and Gideon’s free hand pins my pelvis down.

“Don’t run from it,” he says. “You’re going to squirt for us. First time. Right here on my hand. Push when I tell you.”

“I can’t— I don’t know how—”

“You can,” Terrence says. His voice is in my ear, filthy and sure. “Give it to them. Soak his coat. I want to see it come out of you.”

Dominic spits on my clit and rubs faster. Gideon fucks his fingers harder, curling hard on every stroke, the heel of his hand slapping my pussy. The wet sounds fill the room. I am panting, whining, saying yes and please and oh fuck without picking one. The pressure crests so fast my vision sparks.

“Now,” Gideon orders. “Push. Let it go.”

I bear down and something gives. A hot rush bursts out of me around his fingers, sudden and shocking, splashing his wrist, his sleeve, the paper under my ass. I scream. It isn’t a little dribble. It gushes, pulse after pulse, while my cunt clamps and flutters and I stare at the ceiling like I have never been in my body before. The smell of me hits the air, sharp and sweet. Gideon doesn’t pull out. He keeps stroking through it, and I squirt again, weaker, then another hard spurt that runs down onto the table.

“Fuck,” Dominic breathes. “Look at her. She’s still coming.”

“First time,” Terrence says, and he sounds wrecked. “Selena. Baby. You just hosed him.”

I can’t answer. I am shaking, cunt still gripping Gideon’s fingers, aftershocks ripping through me. He eases out slowly. His glove shines. Fluid drips from his knuckles onto the floor. He looks at me like he wants to eat the mess.

“Again,” I hear myself say. My voice is hoarse. “Don’t stop. I want all of you. I want cocks. I want to keep squirting. Please.”

Terrence is already opening his pants. His cock springs out, thick, flushed, the head wet. He has been hard since the parking lot. Gideon steps aside, stripping the ruined glove, and my husband takes the space between my stirrups. He drags the head of his cock through my soaked folds, once, twice, coating himself in what I just did, and then he pushes in.

The stretch is perfect. I am so open, so slick, that he sinks to the root in one stroke and we both groan. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He fucks me the way I begged him to in the car, deep and mean, hips snapping, the table creaking under us. Every thrust shoves a wet sound out of me. My tits bounce under the crumpled gown. Dominic moves to my head, cock already out, heavy and thick, and he taps it against my lips.

“Open,” he says. “You said mouth, cunt, clit. Start with this.”

I open. He feeds me his shaft, slow until I relax my throat, then deeper. Salt and skin. I moan around him and the vibration makes him curse. Terrence pounds me harder, one hand on my hip, the other spreading me so he can watch his cock disappear into the mess he married. Gideon stands at my other side, bare now from the coat down where it matters, stroking himself while he watches my stomach jump with every thrust.

“Switch,” Gideon says after a minute that feels like a year. “I want that cunt.”

Terrence pulls out. I whimper at the emptiness, drool slicking my chin as Dominic keeps my mouth full for one more thrust and then lets me breathe. Gideon steps in and drives into me in one long push. He is thicker at the base. He grinds there, rolls his hips, and finds that spot again with the head of his cock. I see white. My legs strain in the stirrups.

“There,” I sob. “Right there, fuck, right there, I’m going to— I’m going to squirt on your cock—”

“Do it,” he snarls, and he fucks that angle without mercy.

Terrence’s fingers find my clit. He rubs exactly the way Dominic did, fast and slick with my own cum. The pressure detonates. I squirt around Gideon’s cock, a hard clear gush that sprays his groin and the front of his coat and spatters Terrence’s wrist. I scream his name and then no name at all. Gideon fucks me through it, cursing, holding my hips so I can’t escape the overstimulation, and a second smaller gush follows when he slams deep and stays there.

“My turn in her throat,” Terrence says. He sounds unsteady. “Dominic, take her pussy. I want to feel her moan on my cock while you make her do it again.”

They rotate without asking me twice because I am nodding, begging, hands reaching. Dominic shoves into my cunt while it is still pulsing. He is longer. He hits deep and curses at how wet I am, how easy, how my squirt runs down his balls. Terrence feeds me his cock, familiar taste under the taste of me, and I suck him like I am starving. Gideon’s fingers replace Terrence’s on my clit, two of them, ruthless. The three of them use me in a rhythm that doesn’t give me a gap to come down: cock in my mouth, cock in my pussy, fingers on my clit, dirty praise in three voices telling me I am a soaked little slut, a perfect patient, a wife who squirts on command now.

I come again. It rips out of me in a scream muffled by Terrence’s cock. Fluid splashes Dominic’s stomach. He laughs, breathless, and keeps fucking. They switch again. Gideon in my mouth this time, salty, thick on my tongue, while Terrence slams back into my cunt and Dominic rubs my clit with his thumb and two fingers hooked just inside beside my husband’s cock, stretching me wider. The fullness is obscene. I squirt so hard it arcs, splattering Terrence’s shirt, the stirrup, the floor. My thighs are drenched. The paper gown is plastered to my ribs. I am crying from it, not sad, just blown open, and I don’t tell them to stop. I tell them harder. I tell them to use every hole they can reach. I tell them I want to be covered.

“Clit,” I gasp when Gideon lets my mouth go. “Somebody— just my clit— I’m close again, I can’t— fuck—”

Dominic drops to it with his mouth for three devastating sucks, then pulls off and slaps my pussy lightly, wet and sharp, while Terrence pounds and Gideon fists his cock over my chest. The slap and the thrust and the sight of all three of them wrecked over me tip me one last time. I squirt in broken pulses, screaming, back arched off the table, stirrups rattling, cunt milking Terrence until he has to pull out or finish inside me. He doesn’t. None of them do. They want it on me. I told them I wanted it on me.

Terrence strokes fast, jaw tight. Gideon and Dominic crowd my ribs, coats open, cocks in their fists, aimed at my tits and the soft of my belly. I yank the gown the rest of the way up and hold my breasts together, offering them, still twitching from the last orgasm, pussy gaping and dripping onto the ruined paper.

“Give it to me,” I say. “All of it. Mess me up. I want to feel it hot.”

Terrence comes first. Thick ropes stripe my left breast and the upper curve of my stomach. He groans my name like a curse. Gideon follows with a low grunt, painting the other tit, a heavy spurt that slides into my cleavage and another that lands just below my navel. Dominic curses and unloads across my belly, pulse after pulse, mixing with theirs until I am glazed from collarbone to mound, cum pooling in my navel and running toward the soaked, swollen lips of my cunt. I drag two fingers through it and smear it over a nipple, then lower, painting my clit with their combined spend while I am still trembling and gasping, legs wide in the stirrups, dripping squirt and cum onto the exam table.

I look up at the three of them, flushed, filthy, still half-hard, and I smile with my mouth open.

“Don’t clean me up yet,” I say, voice wrecked and greedy. “Finger that cum into my cunt and make me squirt it back out on your cocks.”