My Husband’s Best Friend Prescribed Me Passion

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No, we can't do this... The patient claimed he was too highly aroused, insisting that I use my own body to conduct his examination. In just a few swift moves, he turned my entire world upside down...

How does that feel, Maya? Good?

I was pinned against the examination bed, my legs forced wide apart. The man towering over me claimed he suffered from delayed ejaculation. After trying multiple hospitals with no success, he had come to me, demanding I use my body to "stimulate" his therapy...

My name is Maya. Im twenty-eight years old, married, and, if I do say so myself, highly desirable.

Ive always had a body that turns headscurves in all the right places, especially my full chest, which constantly draws the eyes of men whenever I walk down the street.

Ironically, I run a specialized Mens Sexual Health Clinic. Its a boutique practice, but my reputation brings in clients from all over.

That morning, I was rushing through the brutal morning rush hour on the subway. The train was packed wall-to-wall. The moment the doors slid shut, I was shoved into a corner, pinned directly against a tall, muscular man. As the train lurched and accelerated, his hips bumped hard against my rear.

Once, twice... by the third bump, I felt a distinct, hard swell press against me. Instead of backing off, the sudden crowd packed him even tighter against me, and he began to grind slowly against my fitted pencil skirt.

"Ah..."

A soft gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it.

The friction was drives me crazy. Within seconds, a heat blossomed deep in my core, spreading like wildfire across my skin.

He must have heard my shallow breathing. He quickened his pace, his hands boldly sliding down to grip my waist.

My knees went weak. I leaned heavily against the train doors, panting for air.

I hadn't felt this alive in years.

My husband, Justin, had been struggling in the bedroom for a long time. For months, he hadn't shown the slightest interest in me. I had tried every medical therapy, every hormone treatment on him, but nothing worked.

They say women peak in their late twenties, their desires burning hotter than ever. I was at that peak, yet I was starving for touch. To make matters worse, I was in the middle of my ovulation cycle. My body felt like a ticking time bomb.

As the stranger pressed against me, enjoying this brief, forbidden thrill, I didnt push him away. Instead, driven by pure instinct, I arched my back slightly, pushing my hips further into him.

The fire inside me was burning hot, making the air beneath my skirt feel suffocating.

The next second, a pair of warm, large hands slid under my skirt, resting on my inner thighs. His touch had a magical, electric current, sending shivers down my spine.

My heart hammered against my ribs. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. If I wasn't pinned against the wall, I would have collapsed onto the floor.

I bit my lip, using the crowd as cover to part my thighs just a fraction.

Seeing that I wasn't fighting back, he grew bolder. His fingers squeezed and massaged my thighs, slowly sliding upward.

His touch was intoxicating. I was desperate for release.

"You like that, don't you, sexy? You must be starving..."

A deep, raspy voice whispered directly into my ear. His hot breath brushed against my neck, making me shiver with excitement.

The next moment, his fingers hooked the edge of my soaked lace panties. After a teasing rub, he slid his finger right past the barrier.

I lost all control. I reached behind me, grabbing his hand. "No... not here..."

A wave of shame and intense thrill washed over me. With what little strength I had left, I squeezed my thighs together. I was terrified of losing my mind in front of a train full of people. But in my panic, my hand brushed against his crotch.

"What's wrong, beautiful? Can't hold back anymore?"

I yanked my hand away, but the sheer size of him left me breathless. Even with my years of clinical experience, I was stunned.

I completely gave up resisting. I threw my head back, letting out soft whimpers as I let him do whatever he wanted to my body...

Finally, the train screeched to a halt at my station. The doors opened, and the crowd surged. As I was pushed out, I spun around to catch a glimpse of him. Even under his clothes, his muscular, athletic build was obvious.

But what drew my eyes was the massive, unmistakable bulge in his trousers. Even as he tried to cover it with his hand, the stretched fabric told the whole story.

I practically had to squeeze my thighs together to walk to my clinic. The quiet of my office only made the fire inside me burn hotter. I couldn't take it anymore.

I locked the main clinic door halfway, my mind flooded with scandalous images from the subway. Driven by pure desire, I walked into the private examination room, locked the door, stripped off my clothes, and climbed onto the bed.

Thinking of the stranger on the subway, who was a thousand times more virile than my husband, I let my fingers slide down, guided by raw hunger.

I gasped, arching my back, rolling across the sheets as I explored my own body, chasing a high I hadn't felt in years.

Right at the peak of my desperation, the examination room door slowly creaked open.

At that exact moment, I was on all fours, my hips arched high in the air, my hand buried between my thighs.

And my bare rear was facing the door.

The person who pushed the door open was none other than the man from the subway!

I froze, paralyzed with shock, staring at him through the gap between my legs.

Time stopped.

I looked him up and down. He was wearing the same clothes, though the prominent bulge in his pants was slightly more subdued now.

He swallowed hard, the loud sound breaking the agonizing silence.

"I... I'm so sorry. I should have knocked..."

Before I could even scream, he panicked and slammed the door shut.

That was weird. He certainly hadn't been this shy on the subway.

But to be honest, the moment I saw him, a thrill ran through me. Part of me wished he had just rushed in and taken me right there.

Before I could catch my breath, the door opened again. I spun around, terrified, only to see my husband, Justin. "Maya? What are you doing? Get some clothes on..."

With the fire still burning inside me, I wrapped my naked arms around Justins neck, trying to initiate something. But he remained completely unresponsive.

"Stop playing, Maya. I brought my best friend in for a checkup. Get dressed and come examine him..."

With that, Justin shook me off and walked out.

I cursed under my breath. I couldn't understand why I had married such a useless man. Any other guy would kill to have a woman like me, and here he was, wasting it.

I washed my face with freezing water, threw on my white doctor's coat, and walked out.

The moment I made eye contact with the friend, the subway memory flashed in my mind. His eyes were deep and intense, as if he could see right through my clothes. I quickly looked away, my cheeks burning with shame.

"Maya, this is my best friend, Logan. I've mentioned him before," Justin said. "Hes developed this... frustrating condition. He has severe delayed ejaculation. Since you're the specialist, I told him you're the only one who can help."

"Sometimes, I get aroused and it just won't go away for hours. Unless... someone helps me release it," Logan added smoothly.

As he spoke, I watched the fabric of his jeans stretch and rise right before my eyes.

My breath hitched. My face flushed red all the way to my ears.

"Maya, I know you're the best in the tri-state area. Do whatever it takes to cure my buddy," Justin said, his voice carrying a strange, almost suggestive undertone.

"Thanks, Justin. I trust Maya's skills," Logan smirked. "And judging by how glowing she looks, she must keep you very well taken care of."

"You joker," Justin laughed, patting Logan on the back. "Alright, Ive got to run. Don't do anything bad to my wife while I'm gone."

Even though they were laughing, my nerves were shot.

Did Justin know something?

If they had traveled together, did Justin see us on the subway?

"Don't worry, man. Shes your wife. Id never disrespect her," Logan said.

This jerk. That wasn't what his hands were saying on the train.

Once Justin left, the room fell dead silent.

"Should we start the examination, Maya?" Logan asked.

Before I could answer, he walked straight toward the private exam room. Suddenly, my eyes widened. I leaped from my chair and ran after him.

The exam sheets! I had left a damp, messy spot right in the center of the bed.

By the time I burst in, Logan was already leaning over the bed, his eyes locked onto the stain, taking a deep, suggestive breath of the scent.

"Your husband doesn't satisfy you, does he, Maya?"

Before I could react, Logan was behind me. He clicked the lock on the door, then wrapped his strong arms tightly around my waist. "Its a tragedy to waste a body like yours. I'm so jealous of Justin..."

His warm hands began to slide over my body, tracing my curves.

My body instantly betrayed me, heating up. Logan grabbed my hand and placed it on his waist. He had already unbuttoned his shirt, and his thick, masculine scent filled my senses.

My hands, acting on their own, slid down to his belt. Logan's breathing turned ragged. "Yes... right there. Examine me, Maya. I'm begging you... it hurts so bad..."