"I k-know, Doctor!" I sobbed, my voice breaking. "B-but it's not! It's getting worse! P-please, you have to do something!" I let out another groan, my hips bucking slightly off the table, my cock slapping against my stomach with a wet sound.

"Oh, she's hooked," I thought, my smirk growing wider behind my hands. "She can't look away."

Anya's chest heaved, her eyes wide as she stared at my cock, her mind clearly racing.

She turned abruptly and grabbed another tissue, thrusting it at Nathalie, who was still standing frozen in place, her face streaked with my cum, her expression a mix of shock and embarrassment.

"Mrs. Nathalie, clean yourself up," Anya snapped, her voice trembling with barely contained frustration.

Nathalie's fingers trembled violently as she pressed the tissue to her face, her cheeks burning with humiliation. The room felt like it was closing in, the air thick with tension and something far more shameful—arousal.

"Y-yes, Doctor," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes darting between Anya and me, unable to meet either of our gazes.

I let out another low, pained moan, my body arching off the table as if I were in agony. This time, I turned toward Nathalie, my voice trembling with desperation. "W-wife... p-please," I stammered, my hands clutching at the paper-covered table, my knuckles white.

"I c-can't take it anymore. It hurts so much. If you don't help me, I—I really think I might die."

My cock pulsed violently, the veins standing out starkly against my flushed skin, the head swollen and glistening with pre-cum. The sight was almost obscene, my length twitching as if it had a mind of its own.

Anya's breath hitched, her eyes locked onto my throbbing erection. Her professional mask slipped further, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "Mr. Dexter," she began, her tone a mix of frustration and something far more intriguing—scientific curiosity.

"Can you only calm down once you've ejaculated inside your wife?" Her gaze flicked to my cock, then back to my face, her cheeks flushed with a mix of outrage and fascination.

I let out another choked sob, my voice cracking with faux desperation. "D-doctor, I—I don't know," I stammered, my body trembling as if I were on the verge of collapse.

"But I—I always ejaculate inside my wife before I calm down. It's the only thing that—that makes the pain stop." My cock twitched again, as if emphasizing my words, a bead of pre-cum dripping down the side.

Nathalie's eyes widened, her breath hitching as she seemed to piece something together. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her fingers twisting together nervously.

"I... I think I understand now," she murmured, her cheeks burning.

"Maybe it's not just the act of ejaculating... maybe it's the—the liquid from my genitals that calms him down."

She turned to Anya, her voice trembling. "Then... maybe we don't actually need to penetrate. There might be another way to—to solve this."

Anya's expression shifted, her professional demeanor faltering for a moment as she considered Nathalie's words.

She stepped closer, her eyes locked onto my still-throbbing cock, her voice softer but laced with a shameful fascination.

"Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her tone measured but betraying a hint of intrigue, "you may be right. If the liquid from your genitals is what triggers his relief, then penetration might not be necessary."

She paused, her gaze flickering to Nathalie's flushed face. "We can try rubbing his—his private part against your genitals. If your liquid drips onto him, it might be enough to trigger his ejaculation and relieve his pain."

Nathalie's face turned an even deeper shade of red, her fingers trembling as she clutched the tissue to her chest. "D-doctor, this..." she stammered, her voice barely audible, her eyes darting to my cock, which pulsed again, as if mocking her embarrassment.

"I.... I don't know if I can—" Her voice broke, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I let out another pained groan, my body arching off the table as if I were in genuine agony. "P-please, wife," I whimpered, my voice breaking, my cock twitching desperately.

"I can't take it anymore. It hurts so much. I—I need you." My words were laced with desperation, my body trembling as if I were on the verge of losing control.

Anya's gaze flicked between Nathalie and me, her expression a mix of professional concern and something far more conflicted—arousal. "Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "it's the only way to help him. Do you understand?" She took a step closer, her eyes locked onto Nathalie's flushed face.

"You won't need to penetrate. Just rub his cock against your genitals. Let your liquid drip onto him. Once he ejaculates, he should be fine."

Nathalie's breath hitched, her fingers twisting together nervously. "Y-yes, Doctor," she whispered, her voice trembling. She turned to me, her eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and determination.

"D-Dexter, lie down," she said softly, her hands shaking as she reached for the hem of her dress.

I let out a shuddering breath, my body trembling as I lay back on the examination table, my cock still throbbing painfully.

Nathalie's fingers hovered over me, her touch hesitant but warm as she began to lift her dress, her cheeks burning with shame. The air in the room felt electric, charged with a tension that was almost unbearable.

Anya watched silently, her expression unreadable, but her eyes never left us. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her fingers tightening around the clipboard she still clutched, her knuckles turning white. "Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "just focus on helping your husband. It's for his health."

Nathalie nodded, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as she finally lifted her dress, exposing her thighs. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted herself, her embarrassment palpable.

"D-Doctor, I-I'm ready," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes squeezed shut as if she couldn't bear to watch what she was about to do.

Anya's gaze flicked to my cock, which pulsed again, as if eager for what was to come. "Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her voice soft but firm, "guide him to you. Let his cock rub against your genitals. That should be enough."

Nathalie's breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she reached for me, her touch hesitant but warm. "D-Dexter," she whispered, her voice trembling, "come closer."

I let out another pained groan, my hips lifting slightly off the table as Nathalie guided my cock toward her. The moment the sensitive head made contact with her warm, wet folds, I let out a choked "Aaaah—!"

My cock pulsed violently, the sensation almost unbearable. Nathalie's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around me as she began to rub my cock against her, her liquid already dripping onto my length.

Anya's breath came in short, sharp gasps, her eyes locked onto the scene before her. "Mrs. Nathalie," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "keep going. It's working."

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