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“To a certain degree.”
“Which? The girl’s nipples or the boy’s bulging trousers?”
Damn these questions!
“I suppose both in some form or another.”
Evasive. And Nurse Sueann, her smile turning more wic
ked, knows it. She records my answer with inordinate deliberation, writing more words than I have spoken.
“Up on the table for me like a good boy.”
Yes, such devilish selection of words, the diminution of how I am addressed changing from ‘Mr. Warren’ to ‘good boy’. Such masterful control over a situation which brings such chagrin.
I hop up... like a ‘good boy’, the awareness of my unclothed form becoming more apparent with the proximity to the fully clothed Nurse Sueann. I look up into the mature face, the lively eyes, such delight found in working with... well working with the likes of me. She revels in it!
“Feet in the stirrups,” she verbally directs grasping my right foot to assist.
I lie back. If there is an element of enjoyment to be had during these visits... relative enjoyment... this is it.
Right foot securely restrained, as my left foot is similarly guided, I recall the first time I was so positioned months ago...
***
One cannot feel more exposed then while lying under the intense illumination of operating room lights, not a scrap of clothing, surrounded by the opposite gender.
But here I found myself, the doctor’s gloved hand examining my testicles with untoward thoroughness. Something was wrong. Such examination is usually brief, obviating the potential arousal of the patient.
The doctor appears glum. Nurse Sueann standing nearby exudes calm and cool cheeriness. But as I was to later learn such is always the case.
“Do you have health insurance, Mr. Warren?”
Rather unusual timing for an otherwise pertinent question.
“Yes, ma’am. But the deductible is very high. I will pay by check.”
The doctor nodded and despite the diversion I squirmed in beginning to tumefy. She noticed. How could she not?
“Just relax and don’t worry about that. We get that all the time. It’s natural.”
The words intended to mollify and did. But glancing to Nurse Sueann did not. Yes, she enjoyed my discomfort... or seeing what I would describe as my very modest penis begin to stiffen
“We’ll need a sperm sample to confirm what I suspect. Nurse Sueann will assist. It’s easiest while you’re on the table... and half way there,” she added with a smile.
With that, the doctor stepped out. And Nurse Sueann extracted her sample. She masturbated me. Mechanically, clinically, rhythmically stroking away with a lubricated gloved hand. When two fingers of her free hand plunged into my rectum, she deftly pressured my prostate gland and I dutifully came for her, giving up what she wanted into the waiting collection vessel.
For her, it was like a mechanic doing an oil change.
Still there was the gloating look... the power... the control... she found thrill.
***
“The incisions can barely be seen. You heal well,” Nurse Sueann’s words pulling me from my reverie.
Gloved fingers rummage about my scrotal sac. Not gruff but certainly not tender, I have become accustomed to a woman’s inspecting fingers palpating otherwise intimate anatomy.
Acclimatized... yes. An apropos term.
