Valentine /gfd/ Part 2

And so it was. Nothing you did could take your mind off of Valentine for long, and every time you thought of Valentine you would get absolutely rock-hard. Of those 40 lollipops, 15 were gone after 24 hours, and 16 more the next day. You end up having to use one before and after every major part of your day. Once or twice you have to get out of the shower soaking wet to grab one. In a vain attempt to stretch what you have left across the rest of the week, you attempt to sleep through the entirety of the third day, but even then you end up using 6 more lollipops in between naps. On the fourth day, you awaken the least tired you've been in years. You also have the stiffest morning wood of your life. Popping your third-to-last candy into your mouth, you use this opportunity to check someone you never really had much chance to before. You take a moment to rummage through your messy desk drawers and pull out a plastic ruler before holding it next to your erection. You've always wanted to know the exact length, and you've finally got a boner with the longevity required to check. 6.5 inches, 14 centimeters. Momentarily impressed with your slightly above-average dick, you glance over at your plastic bag from Valentine's and see only two lollipops remaining.

 

You realize that you're going to have to go out and buy more lollipops to keep your slightly above-average dick at bay. It is your only option. Giving in to your own desires, cumming to your heart's content, depriving Valentine of something she wants or worse, lying to her, none of that even once crosses your mind. You aren't afraid of Valentine, you just can't bear the thought of hurting her. She's counting on you to not cum for 4 more days, and you're going to do it for her. You take a quick trip to the supermarket in your loosest sweatpants in order to buy your candy. You grab a few odds and ends you've been meaning to get this week as well, mostly in order to prevent yourself from looking like a humongous creep. You buy two big bags of lollipops, same brand and flavor as the ones Valentine gave you, with 40 each. Just in the nick of time, as well, you think to yourself as you unwrap the last of the original bag on the way out of the store. You feel much better knowing that you'll be able to sate yourself until the end of the week.

 

Unfortunately, this proves harder than expected. Once you arrive home, your thoughts are once again crossed by Valentine's image, her touch, her kiss, her voice, everything, and you rip open one of the bags you just bought to calm yourself. However, unlike the kind that Valentine gave you, this lollipop doesn't overwhelm your senses as immediately or powerfully enough to ward you off from masturbating. Hastily, you reach into the bag and grab two more lollipops, unwrapping them and placing them in your mouth. The combined flavor of the store-bought lollipops is finally enough to ease yourself, but in the back of your mind you panic, as suddenly what seemed like twice as many life-savers (in a figurative sense, not in terms of the candy itself) as before is now even less. For whatever reason, the lollipops Valentine gave you were much better than the ones you bought in just about every aspect. Maybe medical offices get the best picks off the line. Or perhaps anything Valentine touches is just that much sweeter.

 

The next four days are a blur. You feel as though you daydream about your check-up more than you see what's in front of you. Every waking moment of the day, you have a lollipop in your mouth, as if you were some sort of fucking cartoon character. Granted, doing this does help you ration your dwindling stash much better than using 3 or 4 at a time. As you go to bed the night before your appointment, you note that you have a dozen remaining. You wonder as you doze off if Valentine will take you in early.

 

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You don't think you've ever been in this much of a hurry in your life. You approach the entrance to the alleyways that lead to Valentine's office as you place the last lollipop you have in your mouth. You feel like you're going to burst if you finish it before you get there, so you damn-near sprint down the dark corridors behind the buildings of New Meridian, a timer counting down in your head, as this week has been a lesson in just how long it takes for a lollipop to dissolve in your mouth. You breath a sigh of relief when the sign of the establishment enters your sight, with only a minute to spare, perhaps less. You run up to the door, knock on the door once, but emphatically and probably louder than you should've, and wait. You realize that in your hurry you're actually 15 minutes early for the time you and Valentine agreed on as you were leaving a week earlier.

 

Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes. A minute passes, but it feels like an hour. Chewing the tightly-wrapped paper tube that once held your candy to bits, you feel as though your loins are hanging on by a thread (as are your underwear), and decide to risk knocking once more. Shaking, your hand elevates towards the door, and as your wrist flicks forward to strike the door, it swings open, barely dodging out of the path of your knuckles. In the blur of motion, a hand zooms towards you, removes the chewed stick from your mouth, and jsut as quickly places a new lollipop in your mouth. It's absolutely delicious, even better than the ones you left with last week. As your vision clears up after a moment, you see that the owner of the hand was Valentine, this time holding another jar of lollipops instead of a clipboard. They're all of your favorite flavor. Her gaze feels warmer than before, and somehow closer.

 

"Good afternoon. Sorry about the delay, I was on the phone with my supplier. I've got some more packages on the way, and you wouldn't believe the shipping they charge for such small vials. I've also recently bought some candy, as you can see. Come on in then, sit down on the examination table and we'll see how you're holding up in a moment."

 

You steadily make your way towards the table and hop up on it, making sure not to look at any part of Valentine below the neck as she hustles and bustles with paperwork and such. Better safe than sorry. The pads of your feet gently touch the floor as you lightly let your legs swing back and forth, so as to distract yourself. After another few minutes or so, Valentine turns to you, the large jar of lollipops obscuring your view of her figure. Very smart, if disappointing. Without a word, she opens the jar, puts the lid aside, and offers half a dozen to you. You thank her very politely and take them, popping one into your mouth as the previous is finished. You can feel Valentine's smile radiate past her mask as she closes her visible eye and places the jar next to you, likely for ease of use.

 

"Alright then, let's get started. I assume you HAVE followed my instructions, yes?" You certainly did. "Good. Very good. I could see that erection from a mile away, but with the way you must think about me you could've let one out between when you knocked and when I opened the door and still been this hard. Then again, you're not the deceitful type. I can tell. Now, you and I both know that you're going to need to take your pants and underwear off for me to get my data. While you do that, I'm going to go get some measuring equipment."

 

You knew this moment would come, and so you mentally prepared yourself not to freeze up upon the request to disrobe below the belt for Valentine. In a few moments, you are able to shuffle around and remove your loose sweatpants and boxers, chosen specifically for the room they give your package, even if they still couldn't quite hide your erection. Your throbbing cock sits there, between your legs, atop your balls, which you haven't given much attention to this week, but can't quite ignore what with how they're positioned given the way you're sitting on the soft, surprisingly not-chilly table. The whole situation has a surreal air about it, as it should considering you're not wearing pants, but you simultaneously feel very safe.

 

As Valentine shuffles around in a cabinet to your left, she asks you some simple questions about your week: How many lollipops you went through, what times of day your urges were most often or strongest, how often were your urges met with precum, etc. etc. You answer truthfully, for the sake of accuracy in the study, and because you didn't feel comfortable lying to Valentine. She seemed attentive to what you were saying despite having her focus elsewhere, giving you little 'mhmm's and occasionally giggles after your answers (the latter especially for when you told her about how you had to buy two bags of extra lollipops).

 

Valentine returns to you brandishing a complex, shiny metal device that appears to have been designed with male genitalia in mind. Medical science leaves no stone un-turned when it comes to gathering data, you think to yourself jovially. Valentine's gaze moves to your groin, which causes her eye to visibly widen and her eyebrows to rise high up on her forehead. You can't really interpret this reaction, so you keep quiet and let the doctor calibrate the device as it hovers steadily parallel to your member in her grasp, without making contact. You suppose she realizes that any strong touches could lead to her data being splattered all over the floor of her clinic. Valentine then moves the device up to her face to read the number, and you hear what you think is a light, low whistle from behind her mask.

 

"Hmmm, looks like we've got a big boy here," the phrase 'big boy' simultaneously makes you blush and your dick stand up a bit more, "7 and 1/4 inches long with quite the circumference, and your scrotum looks very swollen from no release as well. I should be able to get a very substantial sample." Valentine's momentarily lapse of professionalism confused you for a moment, but she did say that she hadn't done much research of male genitalia up close, so you supp-wait. What? 7 and 1/4 inches? You could've sworn it was only 6 and a half, but then again you'd trust professional medical equipment more than your slightly-warped plastic ruler at home. Still, that's over half an inch of difference. Are you really THAT hard right now?

 

The next thing Valentine takes out is a flexible piece of tubing, with one end shaped with the head of a penis in mind. You chuckle under your breath at just how absurd it is for such a piece of equipment to exist, but then realize this is the exact situation it would be useful for. Valentine looks you in the eye and warns, "You may want to pop in another lollipop or two there, sweetie. I'm gonna need to attach this to you. It won't hurt, but it'll be a bit snug." You nod and happily comply by unwrapping and placing two more lollipops in your mouth. You barely notice the nozzle being applied to you due to how good they taste. Your gaze meets the clock on the wall above your head. 5: 36 PM.

 

Next out is a large hard plastic container with an opening built specifically for the opposite end of the tubing. You stare at it incredulously, as it looks to be about the size of a Half-Gallon of milk you would buy at the gas station, and had measurement lines that seemed to prove that assumption correct. Surely she doesn't expect you to cum THAT much, right? Then again, you've felt like you've needed to cum buckets since Day 2 of your No-Fap week, so overestimating will likely be much less messy than underestimating in this instance.

 

"Now, given how much semen I know you've saved up for me, I'm going to need to ensure that I get every last drop that you've got. That means I'm going to start stimulating," oh fuck, you never realized she would need to 'stimulate' you, "while you've still got those candies in your mouth there, to rile you up a bit, and then that'll assure the greatest strength of ejaculation and thus the greatest volume possible for my specimen. So, in order to get you going, let's give this a shot."

 

Valentine takes the open end of the tubing with one hand, and her medical blouse with the other, and slips the tubing into it, underneath her breasts. Huh. She then takes one hand and holds it above her cleavage as she pushes the tubing upwards with the other, grasping the end as it pops up between her massive mammaries, the first time you've allowed yourself to look at them since you arrived today. She then takes the tube's end and snapped it in place on top of the plastic container, with quite a bit of slack still left in it. Alright then. Valentine reaches back to her shirt and fastens a button in the middle of her cleavage, clenching her breasts together. That's nice. Valentine then begins to slowly approach you, with the length of the tubing between the head of your dick and her breasts shorteni-

 

Holy shit.

 

Before you can even verbalize any of the feelings your realization hits you with, your mind is flooded with the sensations that slowly envelop the length of your shaft as your dick reaches the underside of Valentine's deep cleavage. Even if you could come up with words to describe your situation at the moment, your mouth is firmly shut as you try with all your might to focus on the taste of the lollipops in your mouth. Slowly, the layers of deliciousness melt away in your mouth, just as the willpower in your nether regions is being stripped by the impossibly soft flesh which has now covered the entire 7 and whatever percents inches of your dick, with only your abdomen and the tubing being visible on either end of the heavenly tunnel. You instinctively reach for new lollipops, but Valentine has pushed the jar just out of your reach. She takes the bare sticks out of your mouth, abruptly removing the one thing that kept you sane this whole week.

 

"Okay, now we're in position. Ready for the extraction, big boy?" You let out a light hnnnnnng. "Great. Let's begin the procedure."

 

Sheathing your dick between her tits was merely the beginning, as now you were receiving a full-on titjob. Each motion made by Valentine's hands creates shockwaves which ripple through her ample breasts, crashing on your positively screaming cock and making their way into your body and up your spine. Your body, as if reciprocating, responds with the constant throbbing of your shaft, as well as constant churning in your balls, aching for release. You cannot help but let out soft moans as dozens upon dozens of instances of repressed urges boil to the surface, and all Valentine can do is go faster and laugh, "Ooooh, you're so damn cute when you're like this, but come on now, no holding back, I need as much cum from you as possible. That's it, do my breasts make you feel good? Are you ready to let it ALL out for me?" You are. All you want to do is please this woman, make her happy, and in turn let her make you happy. This is, of course, for the betterment of health and wellness. You slowly allow the level of control you've been holding in your groin seep into your arms and hold them out, grasping Valentine's shoulders for support.

 

You look directly into Valentine's face. You close your eyes.

 

You let go.

 

Never before have you experienced such an all-encompassing, nearly-oxymoronic feeling of violent bliss as the orgasm you now feel. You cum and cum and cum some more for what feels like forever, and what's more, you never want it to stop. Not only do you feel untold pleasure in your loins, but your heart feels warm, full, and safe, almost as if you were floating in the core of a star. After the first second or so of your release, your senses begin to fade back in, however, and you hear Valentine's encouragement as she continues to squeeze each drop of semen out of you with her soft, pillowy chest, "That's right, sweetie. Good boy. Give me every last bit of it, very good." Hearing this only makes you want to please her even more, and you feel a second wind hit your body as you keep on cumming, emptying yourself of all your affection for this strange, beautiful woman, both physically and emotionally. Your scrambled mind forms a fleeting thought, 'is this love?' You don't know, but whatever it is, you certainly love the feeli-

 

Pitch black. You've fainted. Valentine's face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes. What a wonderful sight to wake up to.

 

"Oh my, I'm very sorry about that. I didn't mean to exhaust you, I just wanted to make sure I got everything I needed. I hope you feel alright." You feel better than alright, you say. This brings a smile to her face as she stands back up, which makes you feel even better. "You were a very good boy giving me all of your cum to examine. This should be more than enough." As you sit up, you realize that the container that had been placed next to you (now no longer connected to your dick, which is currently flaccid for the first time in seven days) is about three quarters of the way full with a white liquid. Damn, you really did need to cum buckets. Your gaze slides over to the clock you noticed earlier. 5:40. Wait, how long have you been out? Did you really cum so hard that you were unconscious for twel-oh wait that's PM. All of that only took about 4 minutes. Huh, weird.

 

Once you regain the strength in your legs, you get down from the examination table and grab your pants, quickly putting them back on. As you do so, Valentine takes the tank of your ejaculate to a back room, "Sorry if I feel like I'm rushing you, but I need some time to examine this, and it's going to need some solitude. First, though, I'm going to write you a prescription that I'm going to need you to follow to the letter to be in the right condition for your next checkup in about 2 weeks, when all my tests will be done and your third injected dosage will be administered. Before you get to worrying, it's not going to be like the past week." You let out a sigh of relief. As great as your last 5 minutes were, it wouldn't be worth another week of torture to feel again. Or maybe it would. You'd rather not find out, either way.

 

With a professional posture, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, Valentine enters the main room of the clinic once more, with a white paper bag, presumably containing the aforementioned prescription. On her way to you, she makes a quick detour to grab the large jar of lollipops. Handing them both off to you, she reminds you, "Like I said, follow that prescription EXACTLY, okay? The lollipops aren't part of it, they're just your treat for being such a good boy." She pats you on the head, and you turn around to leave as you say your goodbyes so that she doesn't see the wide, hammy smile on your face, nor how red your blush is. You wish each other well for the next two weeks.

 

As you close the door, you overhear her say, "I know you'll be enjoying yourself."

 

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Your trip home is silent, forgettable, and mostly dedicated to letting your mind sort out exactly what had happened tonight. You couldn't have imagined your doctor would do things like this, let alone make you feel the way you do about Valentine. The emotions you feel around her are so very raw and passionate, unlike anything you've ever felt before. Maybe you ARE in love with her, and that would likely be problematic. Still, that's hardly all your fault, considering she just jacked you off with her huge tits. That's hardly a part of the hippocratic oath. Or is it? You've never read it. Still, you doubt it.

 

Once you arrive back home, you place the large glass jar of candy on your kitchen counter, put your keys and wallet where they should, etc. etc. Finally, you sit down at your desk with the white bag you had been given. You didn't open it on the ride home for fear of losing something or missing something in the instructions. Carefully, you open the bag and pull out the first thing your hand touches, a small strip of paper with only a couple of sentences scribbled on it in pencil:

 

MASTURBATE THREE TIMES A DAY USING THE PROVIDED MATERIALS. YOU MUST WAIT AT LEAST THREE HOURS BETWEEN EACH EJACULATION. YOU CAN HAVE A LOLLIPOP AFTER YOU CUM IF YOU WANT, SWEETIE ~<3

 

Provided materials? You reach further into the bag, only to find the only other item in it: a small envelope sealed with a clasp, which you undo in order to open the flap and shake out its contents.

 

All that's in the envelope are pictures. Roughly a dozen pictures or so. Pictures of Valentine, many of them very risque and sexy, but without much actually being shown. There are several of her cleavage from different angles, one of her ass bent over a counter with her medical blouse on, a couple of her in simple (yet effective) lingerie, and one in which she's totally nude, but she's covering herself up with her arms, her soft titflesh spilling out over the one she has held across them. She still wears her eyepatch and mask in all of the pictures. The last, and what is ostensibly your favorite, is one of her making a motion as if blowing a kiss to the viewer. This photo also has a visible kiss on it, made with a very soothing royal purple shade of lipstick. There seems to be more left in the envelope, however, so you reach your hand in and grab it. It's a pair of lacey black panties, the same as those you saw in the photos. Pinned to them is another slip of paper, reading FRESHLY WORN.

 

It seems that whatever it is you feel about Valentine, she seems to feel similarly about you. A sudden sensation from below the desk lets you know that your reprieve from being erect has come to end, and all you can do is smile. You turn down the lights and bring the envelope, as well as one lollipop, to bed with you.