Tentacular Dentistry - Sex Stories

Tentacular Dentistry

... reverse oral, Doctor Tentacle’s voice vibrated in my cranium.

“That’s it. Swallow. Swallow. Swallow...”

I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. My friend said her doctor’s toothpaste tastes like mint. The back of my teeth was getting sprayed by something that tasted more like warm, salty oyster juice. There’s always so much of it squirting from the tips of the dentist’s arms and always so little space in my stomach, but I swallowed every drop to keep it from shooting out my nose. I don’t know why I bothered trying not to make a mess; oily toothpaste was squirting out of the thin gaps between vaginal tentacles because my womb had already inflated to its limit.

“Don’t stop swallowing. We’re halfway done.”

More orgasms. Somehow I continued swallowing while losing all control over the rest of my body writhing in the gyno chair. Time seems to slow down when you’re cumming non-stop and every time I momentarily visited planet Earth, I was surprised it was still dark outside.

“Very good. I think we should do a few more cleanings this evening since we’re on a roll. What do you think?”

“Uh-huh...” That might have been a good time to complain but I missed my window again. When the tentacles begin to push and retract inside me several feet per second while swelling with newly produced, thick, white mouthwash, I pretty much pee myself on the chair from cumming too hard and my back is locked in a ...

... reversed arch until it’s time to swallow, swallow, swallow, again.

The exam was done. Another 2 hours of my life that I could have spent more productively.

“See you tomorrow.” My dentist said from a mouth somewhere in the squirming mass of dripping tentacles. “Remember to clear your lunch schedule from now on.”

I couldn’t speak without regurgitating a gallon of creamy toothpaste on the floor so I just waved back at Dr. T on my crawl toward the entrance closet. I knew my legs would start working again soon, but I was already late for work and every second counted. The receptionist was staring at my oozing, gaping ass and sore, dangling breasts like he hadn’t seen them 700 times before. I tried to keep my back to him while getting dressed to maintain the tiny smidge of dignity I still might have.

“Have a good night. See you tomorrow,” he said after the show.

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.” Ugh, that was my last chance to say I wanted to cancel tomorrow’s appointment, why am I always so non-confrontational?

I’m so mad right now... at myself. I wanted to reduce my time in the chair yet I somehow agreed to a third daily visit. I will bring it up tomorrow, that’s for sure. Maybe not tomorrow morning because I’ll be too tired, but I’ll try to find the right words before the lunchtime appointment. I'm just a little scared that with my track record, I might end up agreeing to 24/7 dental care.