I roused Ethan the next morning by lowering myself onto his dawn stiffness, taking him in a slow, deliberate rhythm until he spilled inside me with a drowsy sigh. Only once he had softened and begun to leak did I ease away, brush a kiss across his brow, and murmur, "Important day ahead, love. Follow-up with Dr. Ramirez. We need to confirm those casts are healing properly… and that your blood flow remains strong."
His length gave an eager twitch at the mention of "strong."
I chose loose gray sweatpants and a hoodie for him—nothing beneath, naturally. Simple access. For myself I slipped into a breezy sundress with no underwear, the hem short enough to ride higher whenever I sat. During the drive I kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other between his thighs, offering lazy caresses the entire way while I described exactly what I intended to do once we reached the exam room.
"I'll tend to you so attentively right there in the doctor's presence," I breathed, twisting my fingers gently around the sensitive crown. "You'll have to remain perfectly silent while I bring you over the edge. Think you can manage that for me, sweetheart?"
Ethan's hips jerked involuntarily, a bead of moisture coating my palm. "Lila… yes."
The waiting area proved agonizing. I sat with my legs pressed close, aware of his earlier gift still slowly escaping me, while Ethan struggled to conceal the obvious ridge in his pants with his immobilized arms. Each time the nurse announced another patient, I leaned close and whispered, "Almost time, love. I'll empty you right under that cover."
When our names were finally called, Dr. Ramirez greeted us with a warm, professional smile. "Ethan, how's the discomfort? Lila, you're clearly doing an outstanding job looking after him."
"I'm quite dedicated," I replied with an innocent smile, assisting Ethan onto the table. I pulled the thin paper sheet from the shelf and arranged it neatly over his lap, citing the room's slight chill. The physician never questioned it.
He began inspecting the plaster, tapping lightly and inquiring about mobility and any swelling. I positioned my stool beside Ethan, angling my body to shield any stray glances, and slid my hand beneath the drape as though it were the most ordinary gesture.
His manhood stood rigid and heated. I encircled it with careful fingers—unhurried, affectionate strokes hidden from view—while the doctor continued speaking.
"Healing appears to be advancing well. In another four weeks we may be able to—"
I gave a subtle twist on the upward glide, my thumb tracing the slick tip to spread the moisture evenly. Ethan's breath caught sharply. I pressed his thigh in quiet warning.
"—take the casts off sooner if this level of attention continues," the doctor concluded.
I met his eyes with perfect composure, my hand never pausing. "We're following every recommendation, Doctor. Multiple sessions daily, in fact."
Beneath the cover I increased the pace, drawing long, fluid caresses from root to crown, sensing him thicken further in my grasp. Ethan's jaw tightened until the muscles stood out. His casts lay useless at his sides—he could neither steady himself nor interfere. Utterly surrendered while the physician measured his forearm with a tape.
"Any tingling or loss of sensation?" Dr. Ramirez asked.
"N-none at all," Ethan forced out, voice tight.
I leaned in as if offering simple comfort and breathed against his ear, too softly for the doctor to catch: "Such a perfect boy. Stay completely quiet while I finish you right here. You're about to release into my palm any moment now, aren't you? With him standing just steps away."
His shaft throbbed hard. The first telltale surge arrived.
I tightened my hold, moving faster, the subtle sounds masked by the physician's words and the steady hum of the air system.
"Let go for me," I whispered, lips brushing his lobe. "Fill my hand. Not a single sound."
He erupted.
Warm, heavy jets pulsed into my palm—silent, urgent wave after wave. I continued the steady motion through every throb, draining him fully while nodding along to the doctor's advice on follow-up exercises. The overflow coated my fingers and wrist, seeping into the paper sheet in hidden patches. Ethan's frame shook faintly, yet he remained utterly silent, eyes unfocused, breathing controlled through flared nostrils.
I eased off only after the final faint twitch, tucked his softening length back into place, and discreetly wiped my hand along the inner edge of the drape.
"Everything checks out beautifully," Dr. Ramirez said, giving Ethan's shoulder a light pat. "Keep up the excellent support, Lila."
"I always will," I answered, catching a stray trace on my thumb and tasting it the instant the doctor turned to his notes. Ethan's eyes widened, a near-silent groan trapped in his throat.
The moment we reached the car I didn't bother leaving the parking lot. I lifted my still-damp fingers to my lips and savored every bit, humming with pleasure as I held his gaze.
"Mmm. My boy always tastes especially rich after a little risky attention," I purred. "And now I'm aching again."
I parted my thighs, lifted the sundress, and guided his encased right hand between them. The bulky plaster made every touch awkward and limited—precisely the appeal. I pressed his rigid wrist and knuckles against my swollen bud, circling firmly while I drove, rocking against the unyielding surface like a secret plaything.
"Feel how soaked you've left me, darling? All from tending to you in front of the doctor. I nearly lost control right there on the table."
I kept his hand trapped against my center the whole ride home, using it to hover at the brink while I described the next day's plans.
"Tomorrow will be a full day of teasing. Twelve straight hours of me using every part of myself… without allowing you any release until the very last moment. You'll be pleading so sweetly by the end."
By the time we pulled into the garage I trembled through a hushed climax, coating his cast and the seat beneath me.
I finally freed his hand, leaned across the console, and kissed him deeply, letting him share the lingering flavor on my tongue.
"Such a wonderfully quiet boy today," I whispered. "I'm so pleased with you. Now let's get inside… because I need you nestled back where you truly belong."
His exhausted length was already attempting to rise once more inside his pants.
I smiled.
Tomorrow relief would come only when I chose to grant it.
To be continued.
End of chapter: 08.