The first I heard of him was a squeal from Jenny; I looked up from the drug chart just in time to see him stride past the end of the ward. He was big. Really big. He wasn’t just tall, but he was broad too, and it all looked like muscle. His smooth skin was the colour of polished chestnut, and he had a jaw that could slice like a scalpel. 

“Who the hell is that?” I asked, fanning myself with a clipboard like some cliché.

Jenny grinned. “Dr Carter. Tray Carter. Locum consultant. He started today. You didn’t get the email?”

“No,” I said, blinking stupidly.

“Course not,” Jenny muttered, leaning over the nurses' station divider. “You never check your bloody emails.”

I flipped her off, and she snorted. Then she leaned closer.

“Between us, he’s bloody gorgeous. And I’m telling you now, Grace, I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

She glanced around, then mouthed it. “IT!...His bulge.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “Jenny. You can’t say that.”

“But I did,” she said, shrugging. “I was in the treatment room when he bent down to pick up a suture tray. It was hard to miss; I bet it has its own postcode.”

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, cheeks blazing.

She sipped her coffee, smug. “Once you see it, you’ll never stop looking.”

While she may have been cruising for an issue with HR, she wasn’t wrong. For the rest of the day, I kept catching myself glancing at his trousers every time he walked past. Not subtly either. I was annoyed with myself for it, but also, sort of giddy. I wasn’t exactly known for my sex life. Bit of a dry spell, if I was being honest. But now I had a whole mental cinema reel of Dr Tray bloody Carter’s crotch.

By the time it got to the night shift, I was half cracked. I couldn’t stop picturing him, and Jenny noticed my distraction and teased me mercilessly. 

It was well past midnight when the ward finally quieted down. I was finishing obs and tucking in Mrs Lacey when the phone rang at the nurses’ station. Jenny answered it, listened for a moment, then looked at me with that expression she always had when she was about to make trouble.

“Grace, he’s in 7B. Needs a hand with something. Go on.”

“Can’t you?”

“Nope. He asked for you.” She grinned. “Well, he didn’t specify. But I’m saying it’s you.”

She winked.

I felt my belly twist. “You’re evil.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, already turning back to her crossword.

I smoothed my tunic, swallowed, and headed down the hall, my heart doing a funny sort of flutter I hadn’t felt in ages.

I padded down the corridor, heart tapping behind my ribs. The lights were dimmed, the whole ward in that strange hush it gets overnight. Just machines humming, occasional coughs. I pushed open the door to 7B and stepped inside.

Dr Tray was already there, standing by the bed with his chart. His back was to me, white coat stretched over his shoulders, sleeves snug around thick arms. The patient was Mr Wilkinson, in his late fifties, comatose post-stroke, breathing steadily through a nasal cannula. The other bed was empty.

Tray looked up and gave me a little nod.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said. His voice was smooth. Low. “I noticed something earlier. Might be a rash. Not usual for a night round, but I didn’t want to leave it.”

I nodded. “Want to roll him?”

“If you don’t mind,” he said, setting the chart down.

One, two, three, and Mr Wilkinson was on his side. Tray lifted the gown and leaned in to inspect the lower back. He frowned slightly, then reached for the pen clipped to his chest.

“Bit of discolouration,” he murmured, scribbling a quick note. “Nothing urgent. But it’s worth checking again in the morning.”

I held the patient steady as he wrote, trying not to let my mind drift. But it did. And when we gently rolled the patient back, I let my eyes flick down. I couldn’t help it.

There it was.

The bulge.

And Christ, Jenny hadn’t exaggerated. It was there, unmistakable in the front of his scrubs. My eyes lingered a second too long.

He caught me.

I looked up and froze.

He raised one eyebrow, then smiled, slow and warm. “You alright?”

“I,” My mouth opened, but nothing useful came out. “I didn’t mean, I wasn’t..."

He laughed. Deep and soft, chest rumbling. “Love,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “if you’re that curious, you could always just ask.”

My breath caught. My thighs clenched without permission. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Couldn’t believe I was even entertaining the thought.

But I was.

“You want a look?” His voice was deep and resonant with promise. He already knew my answer.

I nodded.

Barely.

That smile widened, all-knowing and wicked. He took his time with the drawstring. Loosened it slowly. His hand slid inside and pushed the waistband down just enough. And fuck.

He was huge. His dick was thick and dark. Hanging low, flaccid but even soft, it was bigger than any I had seen outside of porn.

I stared, lips parting, every thought knocked clean out of my skull.

Tray chuckled again. A low, satisfied sound.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get that a lot.”

I pushed down my nerves, letting my needs take over. “Can I…” I swallowed. My mouth felt dry. “Can I touch it?” I cringed inside; I was never this forward. What was I doing? We were colleagues. We were in a patient's room, and I was standing staring at this man's impressive anatomy, and I had just asked to touch it. This was so unprofessional, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted this man. Or at least I wanted one very large part of this man.

His eyes sparkled. “Of course you can.” It would appear he was OK with being objectified a bit. Fuck, did I just lick my lips?

He stepped back and pushed the waistband lower. I reached out slowly, still not sure I believed this was happening. My fingers brushed the thick shaft, and I felt him twitch under my touch. I could barely wrap my hands around him. Admittedly, I have quite small hands, but still, this thing was intimidatingly girthy.

Tray watched me, easy and calm, then tilted his head towards the spare bed behind him. “Go on then,” he said, voice soft and teasing. “Get a proper feel.”

He moved back, still exposed, slowly hardening, and sat down on the empty bed, legs apart. I followed without thinking. He leaned back on his elbows, eyes never leaving mine.

I stood between his legs, both hands on his cock now. Stroking slowly, exploring. He was only half-hard when I started, but I could feel him growing, swelling in my grip, and thickening with every pass of my hand. His foreskin shifted with the motion, drawing back to reveal the swollen, slick head. The tip flushed darker as he hardened.

It was a monster. I’d never seen anything like it. The kind of thing you’d expect in a dream or a dirty magazine. I’d recently been watching some animated monster porn, and even they were looking weenie in comparison to Dr Tray. 

My thumb dragged over the tip, and he exhaled through his nose, still watching me. My hand glided down the length of him, then back up, pausing to explore the ridge under the head, then lower to cradle the weight of his balls. 

His hips shifted slightly, just enough to show he was enjoying it, but he didn’t rush me. Just lay back, watching me work him like he had all the time in the world. His relaxed presence filled the room as I worked.

I kept going, entranced by him. I wasn’t sure exactly how long he let me go on for, but eventually, he stopped me, reaching out his massive hand, gripping my side, just under my breasts, and guiding me forward. 

I was shocked at the size of his hand compared to my torso. He really was just a huge man. His fingers were brushing against my spine, and his thumb was lying across my rib cage and touching my sternum. With a single squeeze, it was like he could crush me. But he was gentle, careful. I didn’t feel any pressure from him at all, and that just drew me towards him even more.

“Come here,” he said, voice low.

He pulled me up onto the bed, onto him. I knelt astride him, heart hammering. My scrub top got tugged over my head. My bra slipped down. I pushed my trousers down, underwear with them. It was quite awkward to do when I was already straddling his very wide hips, but with some contortions I managed. 

His cock stood there between us, thick and glistening, a proper beast. The flushed head was dark and swollen, a bead of clear wetness clinging to the tip. It twitched slightly as I looked at it. Big. Impossibly big. 

I reached down, fingers trembling, and wrapped my hand around the base. I could feel his pulse thudding through his cock. I lined him up, heart hammering in my chest, and lowered my hips.

The head pressed against me.

I gasped.

He didn’t budge; he was just too big. My thighs tensed. I tried again, slower this time, angling my hips differently, easing down with a shuddering breath.

The pressure built. My body stretched around him, my entrance parting wide, burning just a little, the head of his cock pressing into me, but not slipping in. I whimpered, half from frustration, half from how much I wanted it. Frustrated at being denied what I was craving. 

Tray’s hands slid to my hips, steadying me. I glanced up.

He was smiling, slow and wicked. “Easy, love. Don’t rush it.”

Then one hand dipped between my legs, his fingers sliding through the slick mess between my thighs. He stroked me gently, spreading me open with his fingertips, tracing through every soaked fold with calm, confident movements.

Then he slipped one finger inside.

It filled me instantly. Not just a teasing stroke, but thick and deep, curling slightly as he explored. My body clenched around it. I could swear his finger was larger than my last partner's cock. Then he added a second finger without hesitation. The stretch made me gasp, but it felt incredible, his knuckles brushing the edge of my entrance, his palm grinding just slightly against the swell of my clit.

“Let me get you ready,” he murmured, voice warm and thick with arousal.

I couldn’t answer. Just moaned, head falling back, thighs already trembling. His fingers moved slowly and purposefully, pressing in deep, drawing the lubricating juices from inside me, easing my cunt open with every stroke. 

I rocked against his hand, chasing the pressure, riding his fingers as they fucked me open. My cunt clenched around him greedily, pulsing with need, my whole body aching to be filled properly.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Each movement built the heat in my belly until I could barely breathe, my legs threatening to give way.

And then he pulled his fingers out.

I whimpered at the loss, cunt fluttering from the sudden emptiness. But not for long.

He guided his cock back to my entrance, and this time, when I lowered myself onto him, my body gave way. The head slipped in, thick and slow.

I moaned aloud, eyes rolling back as I felt myself stretch around him properly at last.

I gasped, legs trembling, hands on his chest for balance as he pushed deeper inch by inch by inch by inch until he was nearly halfway.

My cunt clenched around him, tight and slick and desperate. It felt impossibly full.

But I kept going.

Until I was seated on him fully, stretched wide, stuffed deep with his thick, perfect cock.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered, already dizzy with it.

He was huge.

He felt amazing.

I stayed still at first, just trying to breathe. The stretch was intense, the fullness almost too much. My cunt throbbed around him, walls fluttering as I adjusted to his size. I could feel every ridge, every twitch of him inside me. I wasn’t sure I could move without breaking.

Tray’s hands gripped my sides again, his huge thumbs brushing over my nipples. “Take your time,” he said, voice low and soothing. “You’re doing perfectly.”

I nodded, biting my lip, then lifted myself slightly. Just enough to let a bit of him slide out. Then back down again. Slow. Careful.

It still felt massive. But better. My body started to ease around him, wet and pulsing. I moved again, a little higher this time. Let gravity carry me back down. His cock dragged deliciously against my walls on the way out, then filled me again with a thick, deep throb.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed.

“That’s it,” Tray murmured, thumbs still gently running over my nipples, more delicately than I would ever have expected from his huge hands.

I built a rhythm. Gentle at first. Lifting and lowering, rolling my hips, circling my pelvis to feel more of him. Each movement fed the heat growing low in my belly. His cock drove up into me with every drop of my hips, thick and stretching, hitting deep.

The sting turned into hunger.

I started moving faster. My hands slid up his chest. My thighs burnt with the effort. Wetness coated my inner thighs, slick sounds rising between us. My breaths came short and sharp. My cunt gripped him greedily with every thrust.

He felt incredible. Better than anything I’d imagined. His cock filled every inch of me and drove up into places I hadn’t felt touched in years. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

I bounced harder, the slap of my arse against his thighs echoing faintly off the walls. I felt wild. Consumed. Lost in the feel of him pounding up into me, thick and perfect and deep.

Tray groaned beneath me as I used his perfect body.

Each bounce had me gasping. The pressure inside was maddening now. His cock rubbed right against that perfect spot deep inside; fuck, it rubbed against every spot inside. I could almost feel him in my throat. My clit was throbbing, swollen and slick where it ground against his skin. I tilted my hips, grinding down as I moved, chasing every jolt of pleasure.

He was watching me with that dark, heated stare, lips parted, breath coming fast. I could feel him pulsing inside me, feel the tension coiled through his body as I rode him harder. My thighs ached. 

My breathing went ragged.

That fire low in my belly had grown, curling tighter with every grind along his cock. Each time I sank back down, I moaned louder. Each stroke of his thick shaft through my soaking slit made me twitch and clench.

“Tray, fuck, Tray, I’m close.”

His hands gripped my hips tighter, almost squeezing the breath out of me. “Yes, Grace! Fucking cum for me!”

I whimpered, hips jerking faster. My cunt clenched hard around him, desperate, fluttering with need. My clit throbbed with every movement, the friction making my whole body light up.

My muscles locked. My back arched. My cunt clamped down around his cock so tight it hurt. I cried out, loud, my whole body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through me. My vision blurred. My thighs shook uncontrollably as wave after wave tore through me, wet and pulsing, cunt gushing around his cock.

My inner walls spasmed wildly, desperate to keep him buried deep.

Juices flowed out of me, slicking his crotch and legs as my body bucked in his lap, still riding out the aftershocks.

I collapsed forward, chest against his, mouth open and panting against his neck. My body kept fluttering, twitching around him, muscles still pulsing with the last echoes of release.

I couldn’t stop trembling, but Tray sat up beneath me. He kissed my shoulder, murmured something soft I couldn’t quite hear, then lifted me with maddening ease and laid me on the bed.

I gasped as he pushed me onto my front, arse lifted, legs spread. My cheeks pressed into the sheets, my heart still racing. I felt his hand on my lower back, the other guiding his cock. 

Then he slid back inside.

I cried out as that monster cock pushed deep into me all over again. I was still sensitive, still pulsing from the orgasm, and now he was fucking me properly. Now he was in control. His hips slapped against my arse, sharp and fast. There was no teasing now. No slow build. Just hard thrusts that punched moans out of me with every stroke.

I grabbed the sheets, knuckles white, back arching with every plunge.

He filled me completely, bottoming out each time with a delicious ache. My breath was ragged, moans spilling out of me uncontrolled, rising with each thrust. He was relentless. Gripping my hips. Pulling me back onto him. Fucking me hard.

“Tray, fuck, it’s too much!”

“You can take it,” he growled. He could tell from my moans he was right.

I didn’t care how loud I was now. My cries bounced off the walls and must’ve carried right down the corridor, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I was too far gone. All I could do was press my face into the mattress and moan as he pounded into me, fucking me raw and deep.

My legs started shaking again. I could feel my climax building again as his cock drove into me harder and faster.

I pushed back into him, greedy for every thrust, my cunt gripping tight, clit throbbing.

“Fuck, Tray, I’m gonna, oh fuck!”

He sped up. His hips slamming against my arse, thick shaft pulsing inside me, and then I was gone.

My orgasm tore through me, sharp and overwhelming. I cried out, loud and desperate, my body clenching hard around him. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. I just came and came, eyes screwed shut, cry faltering out leaving my mouth open in a silent scream.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving me aching and dripping. I looked back over my shoulder and saw him stroking his monster fast, hands pumping up and down that thick length.

He came hard.

Hot ropes of cum spurted from his cock, thick and endless, painting my lower back, my arse, splashing up onto my hip. Another hit the back of my thigh. Then more, running across the curve of my spine, one final spurt catching in my hair.

I was still panting, cunt still clenching with the aftershocks, when he leaned over me, kissed the back of my neck, and said, “It was lovely to meet you, Grace.”

I grinned into the sheets.

I cleaned up the best I could, found my scrubs, tugged them back on, and snuck back to the nurses' station with my heart still pounding.

Jenny was waiting.

She didn’t even look up from her crossword. Just raised one eyebrow and smirked.

“Have fun with the new doctor?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then flopped into the chair and tried not to laugh.

“Shut up.”

She just grinned wider. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Although now I know you did have it in you.”

“Oh, my god! Shut up!” I was blushing, but I was already thinking about doing it again.