Returning from a vacation trip one evening in the pouring rain, I seemed to have difficulty following the white lines as I drove. Although I had not experienced any particular problem reading, etc. I decided to check with a local optometrist just for safe measure.

After filling out the usual preliminary forms, one of the receptionists took me to one of the examining rooms. There, she dimmed the lights, dilated my eyes and left me waiting for the optometrist. A few minutes later, Dr. Jennifer Lewis popped in, offered me her hand to shake and took a seat on the rolling stool by the desk.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Jameson?” she asked cheerfully.

I explained my concern, albeit slight, and she nodded.

“As we reach middle age, our eyes tend to challenge us, drifting from clear focus to fuzzy images once in a while, but that can be for many reasons,” she said. “A change of diet, lack of sleep once in a while, perhaps a bit of work from stress, or anything personal can give your eyes reason to ask for a little attention. Let’s just take a quick look and I can tell you more.”

She handed me a small white card and instructed me to hold it over one eye. Then she leaned in very close to me, turned on one of those nasty little penlights and shone it into my eye.

“Look left,” she said, and I followed her instructions. “Now right. Look down.”

That last command changed the path of the exam immediately. As she leaned forward, the good doctor revealed a goodly portion of her cleavage, one of the things that makes me weak with desire. Indeed I looked down, and further down and tried to suppress a smile that my brain was trying to send to my face.

“Look up,” she continued. Try as I might, I flicked my eyes up but they somehow drifted low enough to continue my gaze down her blouse. “Look up again, please, look as high as you can,” she urged. I managed to comply and she sat straight up.

“Cover the other eye and let’s see how it looks,” she said politely. She followed the same steps, and when I looked down, the other eye got its share of cleavage. Again, she had to remind me to look up. At that point I was hoping she would not look down because something was developing and I seemed to have no control to prevent it.

Then she held a small ruler across the bridge of my nose and went through the same routine but without the flashlight. She invited me to look down, left, right, up and down again. A small smirk crossed her lips and she rolled closer to me as she dropped the ruler on the desk.

“I don’t think there’s any problem with your eyes, Mr. Jameson,” she said softly, “but you do seem to have a fetish, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to sound baffled, but she had me cold.

She unbuttoned two more of the top buttons on her blouse, pulled it open with her hands and let me see some beautiful soft mounds, practically spilling out of her lacy white bra.

I was shocked and my mouth dropped open; I was unable to speak. She picked up the phone on the desk, pushed a button and began speaking to someone.

“Maryann, I’ll need a few more minutes with Mr. Jameson; please tell my next patient that I will be there shortly. Thank you.”

She rolled her chair over in front of me and reached for the zipper on my pants. She unzipped it and then began unbuttoning her blouse. “We only have a few minutes, Mr. Jameson, but I can tell you appreciate beautiful breasts when you see them. I’m quite proud of mine and I have a fetish of my own.”

I knew something was going to happen and I eagerly undid my pants and slid them down to my thighs. I sat there naked with an anticipating erection staring up at a set of beautiful breasts, now freed from the restraints of the bra. The nipples were large and brown and the doctor arched her back to proudly display her assets.

“Wow!” I said, like a teenager viewing his first real naked girl. She smiled, came closer and leaned in. She pressed her hands against the sides of her breasts and wrapped them around my surprised cock. She began a series of movements that convinced me that she had done this before and enjoyed doing it.

The risk of being caught evidently affected me more than it did her because she did not seem rushed nor did she show any sign of urgency. I, however, quickly became concerned with what would happen in a few seconds when I knew I would be announcing the arrival of what would probably be a considerable amount of sperm.

I had little time to contemplate on it, obviously not enough because probably within three or four minutes my cock exploded, sending waves of extreme pleasure from my cock to my brain, and spurt after spurt of white creamy globs into her cleavage. I tried to suppress my moans of pleasure as much as I could, certain they would bring someone in who might be passing by the door.

Dr. Lewis pulled away, and whispered, “Zip up, quickly!” I pulled my pants back on and fumbled with the zipper, watching her rubbing my cum all over her chest. She pulled her bra back up and tucked her breasts in, licked her fingers and buttoned her blouse. I was panting like a race horse but she seemed quite calm.

She stood up and smiled at my embarrassed face. I was granted a terrific tit fuck and was almost speechless. “Thanks,” I said, meekly.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Your vision is fine, Mr. Jameson, but you really should learn to control yourself. Have a great day and try to have your eyes checked at least once a year.”

She left the office and I took a minute to compose myself. I stopped in the lobby, paid my co-pay and left, thinking, “Maybe I should have my eyes checked at least once a month…”