Banging the Hot MILFs of Tokyo

"Dude don't say things like that. Yuki is gonna freak out." Jun taunted, pushing some clothes off his bed to the ground. He climbed through the ladder and landed on his bed, yawning. "Run off bruh, go get that your ugly rash checked out before you infect everyone."

Yuki raised his finger up to retort, but let it be. "You are just angry cause I made ¥20,000 cash from you two and you lost. When millionaires talk, don't join unless you don't want to be beaten to pulp."

Jun flipped him off lazily from his bunk. "Keep flexing, Lust King. One day your virtual sugar mommies are gonna ghost you and then who'll be laughing?"

"Still me, from my penthouse," Yuki shot back, slipping into his sneakers and grabbing his hoodie from the chair. He zipped it halfway, tossed his phone in his pocket, and grabbed a face mask from the nightstand.

Haruto finally looked away from his game just long enough to smirk. "Don't die from whatever that rash is. Would suck to have your hentai empire collapse cause you got infected by bad coding."

Yuki waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Let the broke boys dream."

He pushed open the door and stepped into the brightly lit hallway of the dormitory, hurriedly descending down the stairs alone, tugging his hoodie over his head and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He pulled the hoodie tighter as he left the dormitory premise and went further down, four blocks away to the school clinic.

By the time he reached the wide, tiled entrance of the school clinic, his back was damp with sweat, the itch having turned into a nasty burn. He took off the hoodie, and took deep breaths in, walking through the entrance.

"Hey, your Student ID," A bored-looking security guard in a navy uniform stood at the entrance, yawning and scrolling through his phone. He looked up at Yuki struggling to get the ID from his baggy pocket. Yuki fished it out from his wallet and held it out. The guard beeped it against the reader and handed it back.

"A quick stroll to the pharmacy or you wanna see the doctor, huh? You sick or just stressed?"

"Um, Something like that," Yuki muttered, slipping past him with a wearily smile tugged on his lips. The inside of the clinic was cool and quiet, everyone taking turns with their numbers tagged on their pockets.

Yuki pulled a white paper from the rolling machine and checked the number. "23? Damn, that's gonna take a long time." He went over to the reception after some boycott and pleas to the people in front of him. A nurse was behind the counter typing something into a monitor. She looked young, maybe a grad student assistant, with a tired ponytail and dark circles under her eyes.

"May I see your number?"

"Actually, I'm number 23 but..."

"Get back in the line Stud! No cutting..."

"It is actually an emergency. I took Strenda."

Her face lit up, a small red blush forming on Yuki's cheeks with her questioning glare on him. She blinked, taking out a red card from underneath the desk and handing it to Yuki. "Young boys and trying new things. You'd meet the urologist, not a male though, ours went for vacation. His wife is replacing him for the month."

"A woman?" He came off too loud that heads faced his direction, his fingers clenching tighter around the card. The nurse blinked at him.

"We're in the twenty-first century, Romeo. A woman can look at your junk and still keep a license. You think you're the first college student walking in here with a STI rash?"

Yuki flushed deeper, taking half a step back. "No—no, it's not sexually transmittable infection——like, I didn't expect—"

She leaned on the counter trying to keep up with her bored expression still on her face. "You want a male urologist? You can wait a month. Or take a train to some other 'fucking clinic' across the city and pray they've got time for walk-ins."

Yuki stared at her. She stared back.

He finally whispered, "You didn't really give me a choice either…"

The nurse slid a small smirk across her lips. "Exactly. Follow the red arrows on the floor. Room 12B. Knock first unless you want her to catch you mid-zip."

Mumbling a curse under his breath, Yuki stuffed the red emergency card into his hoodie pocket and trudged off, following the thin red arrows lining the floor tiles. "Great," he muttered. "I'm about to show my dick to someone's wife."

Yuki stopped outside the door labeled Dr. Miyako Satou in blue letters on a hung glass plaque. He stared at it for a long second, breathing through his nose like he could exhale all the awkwardness away.

'Just go in, get it checked, walk out, and never think about it again.' He raised his knuckles and knocked.

One, two, three taps.

"Come in," came a calm voice from inside. Yuki's soul nearly fled his body. He turned the knob slowly, the red emergency card still crumpled in his clammy hand. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and he stepped in, careful not to look too uncomfortable, which was impossible since he was very uncomfortable.

Seated on a swivel chair behind a white desk was a woman in glasses possibly in her late thirties. Her hair was pulled into a neat low bun, not a strand out of place. She wore thin-framed glasses and a lab coat.

Her name tag matched the door: Dr. Miyako Satou.

She glanced up from her tablet, stylus still in hand, and offered a polite, reassuring smile. "Take a seat,"

He blinked. "Uh… yeah."

"Emergency red card," she said, nodding toward it. "Please, have a seat."

Yuki stepped closer, stiff as a robot, and sat on the cushioned patient chair across from her, his knees locked together awkwardly. Dr. Satou clicked her tablet shut and folded her hands.

"So, tell me. What seems to be the issue?"

Yuki looked everywhere except her eyes. "Uh… it's kinda… there's this rash thing. Down there. Started itching this morning, no itching last night but now it kinda burns like—really badly."

Dr. Satou nodded, noting some few things. "Any medication? Ointments? Supplements you last took?"

"I took… Strenda."

Her eyebrow arched the tiniest bit. "Um? Excuse me? You mean Stendra? Like Avanfil? Without prescription?"

"Yeah that, I didn't know it was… serious. Someone said it boosts stamina and… y'know, sounded cool at the time."

A quiet pause. Dr. Satou set her tablet down gently.

"Well," she said, rising to her feet, "cool decisions often lead to uncool rashes. I'll need to examine you. Behind that curtain, please. Undress from the waist down. There's a disposable sheet on the bench."

Yuki stared. "...You're really gonna...?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What, you thought I was gonna prescribe without taking a look?"

Yuki gulped, stood, and shuffled behind the curtain, whispering to himself, "Kill me now. Just kill me now." He prayed for the ground to swallow him as he took pieces of his clothing and slipped his body from his trousers. He took a disposable hospital wear from the hanged and came out.

"Yeah, so get on the bed." Dr. Satou slipped on a pair of powder-blue gloves, snapping them gently at the wrists. "Alright. Lie back. Let's take a look." Yuki awkwardly climbed onto the exam bench, lying down stiffly like a corpse. He turned his head sideways, his cheeks burning red.

Satou pulled the privacy curtain slightly more closed and adjusted the overhead light. She was calm, everything Yuki wasn't. She lifted the hem of the disposable gown. "I'm going to examine the area. You'll feel a bit of pressure and pain also."

Yuki clenched his jaw as her gloved fingers gently inspected the red, irritated skin. "Does it hurt here?" she asked, pressing lightly along a raised patch.

He hissed. "Y-Yeah..."

She moved slightly to the side, pressing another spot. "And here?"

"A bit… lower," Yuki muttered, almost inaudibly, eyes squeezing shut.

Dr. Satou paused. "Then indicate the spot, please." Too embarrassed to point directly, Yuki hesitated and reached to guide her wrist just an inch further down. Satou's eyes trailed his hand movement on her wrist until it landed on the shaft of his cock.

Awkwardly she gulped in, and looked at another place.

"Here, it hurt a lot."

Yuki's fingers lingered on her wrist for a second too long, his gaze locked on hers. Dr. Satou didn't pull away immediately. Her breath hitched — barely noticeable — but enough.

Their eyes met.

Yuki realized it at the same moment she did. He let go of her wrist, clearing his throat and dragging his arm back like it had touched a live wire. "S-Sorry. Just, uh… that spot hurts the worst."

Dr. Satou blinked twice, then straightened her back with a short cough. "Right. Well. It's not an STI," She added, peeling off her gloves. "Looks like a contact rash. Possibly a reaction from the medication you took. Nothing long-term, just very… aggressive."

Yuki swallowed hard. "That's… good. I think."

"I'll prescribe a topical ointment. You'll start seeing improvement in a few days."

She moved toward the cabinet on the far wall, pushing open the drawer. The soft sound of small containers clinking echoed in the space. Yuki adjusted the gown, sitting up slightly. Dr. Satou returned, holding a white-and-green rubber tube in one gloved hand.

"I can show you how to apply it properly, if you'd like."

Yuki hesitated. "I mean… if it's not a hassle."

She gave a short nod, her expression unreadable. "Lie back again."

He obeyed, heart beating unevenly in his chest. Dr. Satou pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, popped the cap of the tube open, and squeezed a small amount of cream onto her fingers.

"This might feel cold," she warned.

Yuki bit his lip as her hand moved carefully. She rubbed the ointment along the inflamed area gently, but every so often, her fingers seemed to linger.

Maybe it was just in his head. Maybe not. Her other hand steadied his hip. She kept on stretching her hand further, rubbing and sliding the cream on every inch of his cock. Yuki groaned, feeling the heat rising not from the cream but from...

'Fuck, she is making me hard.' Yuki but his lips, tossing his head sideways as his body quickened with the pace she stroked him.

Yuki's breath hitched.

Dr. Satou paused.

Their eyes met again.

She didn't move her hand. Not right away.

"I can see that you are hard down there..."