Dr. Queenie Sateen leans over Eliza Ibarra on the exam table, latex glove snapping tight. Gal Ritchie hovers close, clipboard forgotten. Eliza blurts it out—she's spraying like a busted pipe the second her girlfriend touches her and she's terrified something's broken inside. Queenie's lips curl into a smirk. "Normal as rain," she says, already snapping on fresh gloves. Gal's pulse kicks. They need proof. Queenie's fingers slide between Eliza's thighs, slow circles turning to determined pumps until the first hot jet splashes her wrist. Gal's breath hitches. They keep her legs spread and work her harder, watching every spurt hit skin and sheet. Sweat beads, moans get raw, and soon enough both doctor and student have their mouths where their hands were, tongues chasing the flood while Eliza forgets why she came in at all.
Dr. Queenie Sateen leans over Eliza Ibarra on the exam table, latex glove snapping tight. Gal Ritchie hovers close, clipboard forgotten. Eliza blurts it out—she's spraying like a busted pipe the second her girlfriend touches her and she's terrified something's broken inside. Queenie's lips curl into a smirk. "Normal as rain," she says, already snapping on fresh gloves. Gal's pulse kicks. They need proof. Queenie's fingers slide between Eliza's thighs, slow circles turning to determined pumps until the first hot jet splashes her wrist. Gal's breath hitches. They keep her legs spread and work her harder, watching every spurt hit skin and sheet. Sweat beads, moans get raw, and soon enough both doctor and student have their mouths where their hands were, tongues chasing the flood while Eliza forgets why she came in at all.
