I hate doctor visits. Am I the only 36 year old who hates to go to the doctor? Last month I had a miserable cold. It just wouldn’t go away. Finally I decided to go to a doctor just to get some pills. So I called the HMO that I belong to through my company. They asked who my doctor was and I said I didn’t have one because I never got sick! So they assigned me to somebody and gave me an appointment.
I arrive feeling nervous and edgy. I just hate going to doctors. I don’t really know why. I just can’t stand some guy probing and prodding me and sticking his fingers who knows where. Well I enter the office of this doctor and look around. The office is fairly bare. There is nothing on the walls and there are cardboard boxes piled here and there around the office. It looks like someone just moved in. A very young enthusiastic looking woman gets up from behind the desk and quickly approaches me. She presents her hand and smiles. “I’m doctor McFadden,” she says and gives me the kind of handshake that leaves your hand wanting more.
Dr. McFadden is about 32 or so and she tells me she just started with this clinic. She has been out of residency for a total of one month! She has vivid blue eyes and I notice she has no wedding band. I think to myself that this gal must be a real heartbreaker After all, She is a physician, about 5 foot 8 inches tall, long black straight hair, deep blue eyes, and a great smile. I can tell she likes to work out by the way her white shirt stretches across her breasts and bags out across her waist. No doubt a washboard stomach goes with those lovely breasts, and tight ass. She sits down at her desk and takes out a piece of paper. I tell her I’m only here to get a prescription because of my cold.
“Well how long has it been since you had a complete physical?” She asks. Stupidly, I say I can’t even remember the last time I was in a doctor’s office. Dr. McFadden has virtually no patients except for me and, as I will soon learn, wants to try out everything she has been taught in school.
The inquisition begins. Nothing passes her scrutiny. She asks about my family, how much exercise I get (some when I can), whether I drink, smoke, and how my sex life is going. I tell her trying to be funny : “What sex life? I only came in because of a stuffy nose!”
Next thing I know she ushers me into the next office for a checkup. OK, I say, at least now I will get this over with and get my pills. She walks in behind me, opens up a drawer and pulls out one of those thin, green gowns that patients wear. “Take off all of your clothes and put this on,” she says then turns to walk out the door. Great! Just what I wanted. To be totally poked and prodded. And, oh God, I hope she isn’t into that prostate exam, shit.
She comes back in and asked me to sit up on the bench. Well by this time I’ve got the gown on and it is hanging completely open in the back. (Who on earth can figure out how to tie those things shut.) She looks in my nose, throat and ears. Then she fumbles with the gown so that it falls off my shoulders and drops into my lap as I’m seated. A cold stethoscope is quickly pushed against several parts of my chest. Her soft firm hands grip my back as she listens to the sound of my heart. By now my heart beat must be high because I feel totally vulnerable and nervous. I’m not sure what is coming next but I’m sure I won’t like it. She completes the requisite steps such as the rubber hammer to the knee. I oblige with the necessary kick : OK so my reflexes are not broke. Now she asks me to lay down. I fear the worst is yet to come.
“Why don’t you just lay back,” she says as I see her pull a rubber glove over her right hand. “Just let me pull this up a little,” she says as the green gown, which is now bunched up in a pile over my crotch is pulled up to my chest exposing my groin. Since I am not really wearing it anyway, she just takes it completely away leaving me naked on the examination table. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she gently lifts my testicles in her left hand.
“No, I feel fine.”
“Well just tell me if anything hurts,” she instructs. By this time she has pushed my penis up against my stomach and is holding it there with her right hand. Her thumb and fore finger gently hold both sides of my penis just below the glans while her left hand slowly and deliberately massages each testicle, in turn, though my sagging scrotum. She then turns her attention to my penis.
“Do you ever have blood or puss in your urine?” she asks.
“No,” is my stoic reply as I just cringe. After all I only came in for some pills.
Not to be dissuaded, she continues with her interrogation. “When you have an erection, do you ever have any pain?”
“No problem there,” I reply, “But I haven’t had sex in a long time. I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment.”
“Do you masturbate often?”
Taken totally by surprise, and now, totally uptight, I reply, “No, not really. Why do you ask?”
“Well, because there is a little redness just below your glans. And I notice that there appears to be some minor chafing and some small red lines immediately above your circumcision scar,” says Dr. McFadden.
A red glow rises in my cheeks and a fire warm feeling flows from my neck up to my forehead. “I sometimes get a little sore there,” I respond.
“When you are erect, is there much movement in the shaft skin?” she asks.
My mouth hangs open in amazement. Is this woman for real? I only want some pills! But I sheepishly reply, “No not really. I guess I’m circumcised kind of tight.” By this time I wish I could just crawl under a rock. And to make matters worst, I start to feel a little sensation in my balls and penis as I start getting a little hard.
“Were you circumcised at birth?” she asks.
“Yes. When the doctor clipped me, he cut pretty much off, if guess,” I sheepishly reply trying to be witty.
“Some doctors cut a little too much,” she replies. “I notice you have no frenulum at all. I don’t usually see such a tight cut,” she comments as she now bends over for a closer look. By this time I can really feel my heart pounding and blood racing to my penis. She continues to examine my penis and is now running her gloved forefinger along my circumcision scar. “You have a fairly wide scar. This may indicate that you were cut too tight when you were circumcised. As the skin has stretched it has widened giving you a broad circumcision scar. Do you ever have rawness above the circumcision scar when you masturbate?” she asks.
Wishing I could shrivel up and die, I reply “Well, I guess sometimes. But I usually use hand cream. Otherwise I do get a little sore.”
“I should really check this out. You just relax”, she says as my obviously growing member begins to fill her hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, many men get erections when their penis is touched. After all, you are only 36. You are still in your sexual prime. And not having sex recently, you will probably be easily stimulated.”
She removes both gloves and takes my now three quarter erect penis between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. She runs her left fore finger along the underside of my penis from the top of my hairy ball sack up to and over my wide brown circumcision scar and up to my pee hole. “Do you find the skin above your circumcision scar is more sensitive than the shaft skin below?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say as she continues to run her finger slowly up and down the underside of my penis.
“The skin between your scar and glans is the remainder of your foreskin,” she states as if lecturing to a medical student. “It is typically more sensitive than the remaining shaft skin.”
By now I am fully hard and my breathing is nearly panting. I can sense that pre-come is beginning to seep out of my urethra.
Without saying a word, she continues to focus her eyes on my penis. I can feel her touching the flared rim of my glans with her fore finger as she slowly circles the entire circumference of my fat purple cock head. She dips her finger into the small pool of pre-come that is starting to pool at the entrance to my pee hole. With her wet finger, she retraces a circle around the rim of my flared glans. Then she continues very slowly down an inch until she reaches my brown circumcision scar.
“I should have realized you were circumcised as an infant,” she says. “I can tell by the perfect circle of your scar tissue. When an adult is circumcised, they often will cut the foreskin up in a “V” groove to match the shape of the underside of the glans.”
She now releases my penis, but it defies gravity by poking directly at the ceiling. Her deep blue eyes look directly into my face and she smiles broadly. She clearly enjoys her job. I wish I could say the same!
“Let me see just how tight the skin is,” she says mostly to herself. She now grips my erect throbbing penis with her soft, firm right hand. The back of her hand is toward my face and I see smooth veins crisscross under the tanned tight skin. Her touch is very gentle and she knows exactly where to grip so that adequate skin is both above and below her fist to allow a smooth stroke. I watch as she carefully closes her grip a quarter of an inch below my circumcision scar. In a gentle, slow stroke she pushes the taught skin up until it bunches under my glans. She forces the skin up as far as it will go until I feel a twinge of pain. In doing so, my scrotum is pulled a quarter of the way up along my shaft.
“You’re quite right. There’s not much skin there to slide back and forth. Let me see just what type of movement there is,” she says as she slowly pushes the skin back toward my balls. Suddenly, she jerks the skin hard. I jump a little as I feel the shaft skin suddenly pull taught dragging the flared rim of my glans down so that it appears as a minor hill along a smooth landscape.
“Some physicians would recommend this type of cut. It really is a matter of preference, but I think it is better to leave a little more skin. When you have intercourse you should please a woman pretty well. Your taught skin should provide a lot of friction,” she comments like a proud admirer might comment about a friend’s vintage car. She turns her gaze toward me and her beautiful white teeth gleam as she stares into my eyes.
By now pre-ejaculate is leaking down my man shaft like a dripping faucet that has needed the attention of a plumber for a long time. Her bare hand has become lubricated so that when she pushed her hand up to the edge of my flared rim, the rim easily slides under the edges of her firm grip. Only the tight shaft skin stops her hand from caressing the purple mushroom head. Back and forth, and back and forth goes her powerful grip alternatively stretching my shaft skin to its physical limits. Involuntarily my back arches. A rush of air hisses through my nostrils as I suddenly breath in a violent rush of air. My clenched teeth and tightly shut lips prevent any air from entering my lungs through my mouth. Sensing that I may be on the verge of coming, Dr. McFadden stops her rhythmic strokes. I can feel sweat puddling between the small of my back and the leather covered examination table.
In a desperate attempt to distract my attention I ask, “Do women get circumcised?”
“Oh, Yes,” she replies. “In some cultures, especially inn Africa It is virtually universally done to ensure they do not become promiscuous,” she answers casually, perfectly at ease discussing either the circumcision of my penis or her vagina. “Some women in the West have it done in order to achieve better orgasms, I don’t have that problem though.” His relaxed attitude relieves some of my anxiety and genuine curiosity overtakes me.
“Are most men cut this tight?” I ask.
“No,” she replies, “As a matter of fact, most have quite a lot of loose skin on their penis. It really makes very little difference to sexual enjoyment thought. In your case, however, I would recommend continuing to use that hand cream. The shaft skin is so tight that you are causing slight tears in the skin immediately around your circumcision scar. Try not masturbating with a dry hand. Or at least don’t yank on the skin so violently,” she casually comments as if she were talking about the latest sports scores.
As she stands next to the examination table I can see the outline of her nipples poking through her bra and blouse The outline is fairly clear through her hospital white blouse. And I become conscious of my cock again.
“You’ve got a particularly thick and long penis. And I’ve rarely seen a penis whose veins bulge out as much as yours do,” said Dr. McFadden. Her brow turned up in a frown of interest and she once again began concentrating on my throbbing member. “For example, this vein here protrudes out quite remarkably,” she said as she placed her right forefinger against a crooked blue vein that bulges out the side of my cock covered tightly by my circumcision scarred skin. “That would, no doubt, give quite a bit of added stimulation during intercourse.”
Dr. McFadden, once again gripped my throbbing member. “Spread your legs a little more,” she said, obviously intending to continue her examination. “Have you had a prostate exam before?”
“Yeah,” I replied with a groan. “They are always great fun.”
Recognizing my sarcasm, Dr. McFadden laughed. “Oh, it’s not that bad. It will only take a second.” She now removed her grip from my penis and slipped a rubber glove on her left hand. Her bare right hand again gripped my rod as if it were a hand rail to keep the skipper of a ship stable during a storm. She reached over and placed her left forefinger at the entrance of my anus.
“Just hold still,” she said as she first grabbed a glob of lubricant from a jar on the counter next to the examination table, then placed her middle and first fingers right up against my sphincter. “Hold still, it won’t hurt so much if you just relax.”
With her bare right hand tightly gripping my throbbing penis, she slowly rotated her two fingers until they slipped painfully into my ass.
“Ohhh, that’s not too comfortable,” I said as her long fingers entered my butt.
“I’ll be done in a minute,” she said as the fingers of her left hand pushed farther into my ass. Once again, her right hand slowly begin its rhythmic journey up and over my veiny penis, first stretching the shaft skin to its limit on the up stroke then gently stretching the small band of remaining foreskin back toward my very taught scrotum. On each down stroke, I could feel my glans being stretch over the top of my rock hard pole as if someone were trying to pull a ski cap down through the top of my head. Gooey pre-come flowed like a swollen river down my shaft and over her tanned hand until the smooth skin on the back of her hand glistened from my male juices.
All of a sudden she hit my prostate. My eyes bulged as my heart skipped a beat. Blood pored into my swollen penis stretching its already tightly drawn sheath to new limits. I could barely control myself. My ass lifted off the table involuntarily as I pumped her right hand. I no longer cared what she or anyone else thought. My inhibitions and nervousness were overcome with animal lust. The penetration of my anus with her long manicured fingers had brought me to the brink of climax. I could feel her smooth knuckles slipping in and out past my sore sphincter. She continued to massage my prostate while she rhythmically pumped my oozing sex organ. My shaft was glowing red. The small band of remaining foreskin between my dark brown circumcision scar and rimmed glans glowed ruby red. My mushroom shaped glans penis was boiling over with pre-come and had turned a mean shade of purple. Every vein on my shaft was at full mast. I could feel each of her muscular fingers sliding over my gnarled cock veins. My heart pounded so hard that it sounded like drum beats deep in my ears.
“God, I’m going to come!” I panted. “You had better ssstoppp!,” I shouted. But it was too late. Spasms shot up from my feet through my calves into my buttocks. Every muscle in my body contracted. “Oh my Godddddd, Ahhhhhhh!!!!,” I exclaimed as I felt the first spasms of semen begin their journey from deep in my ball sack. Rapidly the come gained force and momentum. My sphincter gripped her finger so hard I thought they would break. With a powerful lunge I arched my back, pushing my rocket toward the spinning ceiling. Glob after glob of thick white come shot from my throbbing prick. Just as the first rockets of semen spurted toward my chest, Dr. McFadden pulled tightly down on my man hood stretching my tailored penis sheath to its limit. With one powerful spasm after another, come flew into the air. The first jets shot right over my head, clearing the examination table by three feet. The later blasts landed solidly on my chest.
“Wow, that was unbelievable,” I said.
Dr. McFadden extracted her fingers from my anus. “You seem perfectly healthy. Nothing appears wrong with your prostate and your reproductive organs are certainly functioning properly,” she said with a smile. With a tissue she cleaned the combined goo from my penis. I was still perfectly hard. “I can see where your remaining foreskin meets with your circumcision scar and there does not appear to be any tearing. You also look OK where the shaft skin joins on the other side of the scar. I suggest that you keep your penis well lubricated in the future when you masturbate and you shouldn’t have any problems,” she suggested. “Consider yourself lucky. Your penis is above average in length and girth with nicely protruding veins. Although your circumcision is very tight, it shouldn’t give you any trouble as long as you are in good hands.”
I looked directly into her deep blue eyes and I could see that there was perspiration on her brow. Her lips were pressed into a thin line making an attractive smile, and she was giving off a wonderful female musk. Also her breath was labored. “I’ll do what you say Doc,” I casually replied.
“Oh, by the way, as a man ages the shaft skin on his penis tends to become somewhat tighter. We had better keep an eye on you. Yes, we should really keep an eye on that taught shaft skin of yours. I think you better come in again for a physical in 3 months,” she recommended.
“Well you’re the doctor,” I replied. “I guess you know best.”
On the way out of the clinic, I scheduled another exam in 12 weeks.