Teaching Nelly Sullivan

She had turned eighteen and lost her virginity two weeks earlier. Time for a proper checkup. She said the words out loud in the waiting room like a girl might say she needed to pick up milk. Now the door clicked shut behind her and the air smelled faintly of latex. The examination table caught her eye first, chrome legs, tissue paper stretched thin over dark vinyl. She stripped, each piece of clothing a little slower than the last. The doctor pulled on gloves that snapped tight at the wrists. He folded her knees open, knees that were still used to closing by instinct. One gloved finger parted her new folds, still tender. She watched it disappear inside her and felt her cunt answer with a quick, tight grip. A second finger followed, thicker, deliberate. He moved them in and out a little farther each time, until she made a sound she didn’t recognize. He withdrew, stripped the gloves, and snapped a fresh pair on. When he pressed back in with three fingers, the stretch burned. He did not hurry. She pressed down on the metal bar at the end of the table, hips lifting, heels sliding against the paper. She came hard, sudden, her first time with anyone older than twenty.