index


Message-ID: <33105asstr$1004145005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Shy Guy" <pfb124@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} ASSM - The Student Clinic - MF - Medical - True
Date: Fri, 26 Oct 2001 21:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I doubt that many people would consider a medical exam as a life defining
moment, but I am in that small minority of people who do.

My story starts at the freshmen athletes' reception at the medium sized
mid-atlantic university I attended.  I was an eighteen year old freshman and
my parents had just brought me to school the day before and got me settled
in the athletic dorm.  I would likely be the 192 pound wrestler for the
university.  The starter from the previous year had graduated, and the only
other person in that weight class would not pose much of a challenge to me.

I have always been somewhat ill at ease in social settings - I guess that is
a function of spending more time in the gym than at parties.  I would have
blown the party completely off except my new room mate persuaded me to go.
I met a really cute gymnast named Gail, and we arranged to meet for lunch
the next week.

This was the starting point for our growing relationship.  We couldn't have
been bigger opposites.  She was absolutely tiny.  She was five feet tall and
93 pounds; I was 6' 2" and 190.  Her dad was a cardiologist in the biggest
city in the state, and my dad was a cop in a small town in the foothills.  I
tend to be  quiet and withdrawn; while she was the life of what ever
gathering she attended.  Academics came easily for her, and I logged long
hours at the library to keep my grades up.  The only thing we had in common
was very low body fat.  She was eleven percent - very low for a woman - and
I was eight percent.  She told me she was a virgin, and I told her that I
had been with two girls.  I had a one nighter the summer before my junior
year, and had a serious girl friend most of my senior year.

Our sex life consisted of a couple of showers together, and some manual
foreplay.  Not to be overly graphic, but this is important to the story -
she was incredibly tight.  I guess that was due to her small size and that
she was an active athlete.  When we were together, I could only use one
finger, and her muscles would constrict snugly around my finger when she
would climax.

The first semester seemed like it was over before it started; I made an A,
three B's and a C and Gail made straight A's.  We both stayed on campus when
most of the other students had left for Christmas break.  I had practice and
matches, and she didn't want to go home. We went to a Christmas party at a
friend of hers house who lived locally.  It was in a mansion on the west
side of town.  Afterward we drove back to campus. Her RA had gone home, so
we snuck up to her room to exchange Christmas presents.  She had bought me
several expensive gifts, and I was a little ashamed that all I could afford
to give her was an antique broach I bought at the flea market.  She really
acted like she loved the broach.  She had four glasses of wine, and for her
body size that gave her quite a buzz. When we were done with the gifts she
started kissing me.  Soon enough we were both naked, and she whispered, "I
want to do it all" in my ear.  We kissed, nibbled and fondled for a while,
and when the moment seemed right I got on top of her.  I made several
attempts, but she was just too tight.

After a while she suggested that she get on top.  I signaled my compliance
by rolling on my back, and she straddled me.  She tried to guide me into her
with one hand, while pressing down with her body.  The first several
attempts to do it this way proved as fruitless as when I was on top.  I was
starting to get delirious with passion; all I could think about was getting
inside her.  This time when she lined me up I hooked my forearms under her
arms and grabbed her shoulders.  When we were aligned, I pulled her down
with everything I had.  I immediately felt the most searing pain I had ever
experienced.  I literally thought my cock had been broken in half.  The pain
was so intense I almost passed out.

Gail turned on the light, and I looked in horror as my dick had about a
thirty degree bend to the left about two thirds the length of the shaft.

I couldn't sleep a wink that night, and I went to Bud, wrestling trainer's
office, at eight sharp.  I explained to him what happened, and when he
stopped laughing he told me to drop my pants. He whistled when he saw the
bend.  I told him it still hurt like hell, and I asked if the team physician
could help out.  He said the doc was out of town for the holidays, and said
he would have probably referred me to the student clinic anyway.  He called
over to the clinic, and was assured that they were open and had a skeleton
crew available.  I walked into the clinic, and was the only person there.  I
had never been there before, and the receptionist made me fill out a new
patient form.

After I returned the paperwork I sat and waited for what seemed like
forever.  Finally, an ancient nurse yelled my name across the reception
area.  This struck me as odd since I was the only one there.  She dyed her
hair jet black, and looked irritated at the world.  She led me back to an
examining room and asked me why I was there. I explained that I had bent my
penis yesterday, and it was still bent and really hurt.  She gave a
disapproving look when I mentioned the word penis, and asked how it
happened.  I don't know why, but I blurted out that it had happened at
wrestling practice.  The ancient nurse told me to strip from the waist down,
and Dr. Sprague would be with me in a while.

This presented somewhat of a dilemma for me as I didn't quite know what the
etiquette was for meeting a doctor while one's genitals were exposed.  I
hung my blue jeans on a hook on the back of the door and took off my shoes
and socks (I  didn't wear underwear in those days). I was trying to decide
whether stand there or get up on the exam table.  If I got on the table
should I sit or lie down?  I finally decided that I would wait for him while
seated on the table.  I used the tail of my shirt to cover my aching member
and waited for him.

I almost fell off the table when Dr. Sprague came in the room.  "He" was
actually an very attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties.
She was wearing a short Glen plaid skirt that was probably part of a suit.
It was fairly short; riding about three or four inches over her knee.  A
simple white blouse, pumps and a short lab coat completed her outfit.  She
was one of those natural beauties that didn't need to wear make up, and I
was betting her hair was natural blond.

She had my chart in her hand and asked if I was the Doug Phillips from the
wrestling team? I was a little shocked since practically no one follows
wrestling.  I replied, "Yes I am, but how did you know?"  Her face broke
into a radiant smile that lit up the room, and she responded that she had
dated a wrestler in college and became hooked on the sport.  She made some
more small talk about being impressed that I was 7-2  at that point in the
season and just a true freshman.

She asked how I had hurt myself in practice.  I felt flush and told her that
I hadn't been honest with the nurse.  I said that she really looked like she
disapproved of things sexual, and I didn't want to get into it with her.
Dr. Sprague laughed and said that I was very perceptive, and that she needed
to examine me.  She said that if I was uncomfortable she would ask a
chaperone to be present.  I waived my hand in a dismissive gesture and
thought, 'jeez, an audience would just make this worse.'   She turned
around, opened the cabinet door over the sink and reached in for some
examining gloves.  While still facing the cabinet she asked me to stand at
the end of the table.  There was about three feet from the end of the table
to the sink were she was standing, so I just stood at the end of the table
and leaned back against it.  She rolled a stool around, and sat down right
in front of me with my manhood right at her face level.  I was feeling
really self conscious with her looking at me.  After a moment she said, "I
need to examine you now" and she gingerly grabbed my sore partner in her
hand.  She asked if that hurt and I said no, but I was trying to repress the
stirring I felt down there.

I didn't have any luck suppressing the growing excitement, and I was clearly
growing larger in her hand.  She was totally nonplused by my nascent
erection, and even offered me some encouraging words.  "Don't worry," she
said, "this happens sometimes."  After a moment she tried to reduce the
tension by saying, 'this actually makes it easier to examine the problem."
I looked down and noticed that the bend was even more pronounced while I was
erect.  I also noticed that her skirt was riding up fairly high on her
really nice set of legs.  This only served to heighten my arousal.

I tried to introduce some levity into the situation by remarking that I was
relieved to see it still worked, and that I had really been scared that I
might have ruined it.

She chuckled and said that she was going to see how extensive the sprain
was.  She put her thumb and forefinger around the base of me and gently bore
down.  She asked if it hurt and I replied, "no."  She repeated this
procedure about an inch further down the shaft and said to alert her when it
hurt. It actually felt really good until she squeezed where it was bent.  I
inhaled sharply and she moved past the bend. The pain was short lived and
did nothing to relieve my erection.  By now it seemed stiffer than I ever
remember it.  There have been other times in my life both before this
incident and after when I felt sexual tension.  Here I was fully erect and
in the hands of a beautiful woman.  Her mouth was inches from the end of me,
and I sensed (or fantasized anyway) she badly wanted to wrap those full lips
around me.

She said next that she needed to determine if there was any nervous damage
or loss of sensation.  She put the nail of her gloved index finger on the
underside of my member and slowly dragged it towards the end.  She told me
to be alert to any change in the sensation.  This was absolutely the most
exquisite thing I had ever felt.  When she reached the most sensitive part,
the scarring where I was circumcised, I was almost delirious.  I bit my lip
in order to keep from moaning. I bit so hard that I sensed the coppery taste
of blood in my mouth I could feel that pre-climax sensation in my calves.

By this point I was using my hands on the table to support me.  Somehow, my
legs didn't seem up to the task.

The doctor said she needed to check for bruising.  She still had me grasped
in her left hand, and she half turned to her right to turn on the goose neck
lamp by the table. She lost her balance and this had two simultaneous
effects:  First, she had to stabilize herself by holding my friend tighter
and secondly, her skirt rode all the way up her legs and everything was
there in clear detail.  This wasn't just the fleeting glimpse of fabric that
guys are lucky enough to get from time to time.  She was wearing a pair of
shear/lacy peach colored panties.  This was the day before thongs became
popular, but the were cut really high.  Some of her pubic hair, yes it too
was blond, was evident on each side.

This was more than I could stand, and I was just able to warm her.
"M-M-MOVE!" I yelled our.  I closed my eyes tightly, clinched my face and
looked up to the gods as I experience the most powerful orgasm of my life.

After what seemed like an eternity, I came back to life and noticed she hadn
't let go of me the entire time.  I was extremely embarrassed and managed to
mutter, "I am so sorry."  It was her turn to blush when she realized that
she was still holding me firmly in her hand.  She propelled the stool
backwards, and slid the gloves of with one fluid movement.

She regained her composure and said we would skip the exam for bruising.
She told me that I could get dressed and she would be back to talk about her
findings.

I grabbed some paper towels and some sanitizing spray from the cabinet, and
cleaned up the mess.  I pulled my pants, shoes and socks back on and waited
for the doctor to come back.

She came  back in the room and was all business at this point.  She briefly
looked over at the area that I had cleaned up, and I could tell she was
pleased.  I lamely tried to make a joke about not wanting to start any idle
gossip with the staff.  She laughed and said she would have cleaned it up
herself for the same reason.

She apologized for taking so long stating that she had never experienced a
case like this before, and was looking for some direction in the medical
literature. She said there had been other cases of trauma to the penis while
it was erect, but no real details.  She further said that a friend from
medical school was a urologist, and she was going to consult with him about
it.  She told me to make an appointment for the first of the next semester
and we would determine what to do them.  She gave me a tube of K-Y and told
me to use a generous amount of it next time I tried to have sex with Gail.
She wished me continued success in wrestling and was gone.

I returned to the clinic for my follow up visit in early January.  The
clinic was crowded, and I waited a while until the nurse - a different one
thankfully- called me to the back.  Her efforts to suppress her smile were
not successful as she read my chart.  She turned and left the room simply
saying the doctor would be with me in a while.  She didn't tell me to strip,
so I left my clothes on.  I had actually worn a jacket and cologne
anticipating my appointment with Dr. Sprague.

I was disappointed when a brash young doctor in his early thirties came in
the room.  He introduced himself as Dr. Alcott and tactlessly said, "I read
your chart.  So, you have a banana dick now?"  He asked if it was still
painful, and I said it wasn't.  He read the notes from the urologist, and
said that I would likely stay this way the rest of my life, but that it
shouldn't affect me sex life or fertility. He told me to lower my pants, and
checked me over for a few seconds.  He whistled and said, "man, it really is
bent isn't it?"

He told me to come back if there were any more symptoms or pain.

I felt really depressed as I left the clinic, and realized that I had quite
the crush on Dr. Sprague.

For the next several years I would go our of my way to walk by the clinic
hoping to catch a glimpse of Dr. Sprague through a window or maybe walking
to her car.  I did see her two more times.  Once at a bar off campus having
a drink with her friends.  She smiled an raised her glass to me from across
the room.  I saw her again about a year later at the faculty club.  I was at
a reception for the wrestling team given by some wealthy booster.  She was
sitting across the table from Dr. 'Banana-Dick'.  I felt like someone had
punched me in the stomach.  Jealousy and anger flushed over me.  I wanted to
go throw 'banana-dick' out of his chair, and sweep the doctor off her feet.
Instead, I left the reception and got blindly drunk at some bar.

I blew out my knee in a game of pick-up basketball at the end of my junior
year.  The athletic department was gracious enough to keep me on scholarship
even though my wrestling days were over.  In some ways I was disappointed to
end it; I had come in fifth in the nation that year.  I would have been an
even bet to win it all my senior year.  In other ways, I was relieved.
Wrestling is an intense sport, and the joy had gone out of it for me.  I was
sick of the year around conditioning, weight lifting and dieting.

My senior year was uneventful, and in May I accepted an incredible offer
form an investment bank in New York.  They sent a congratulations letter and
a form for a doctor to fill out.  I called down to the student clinic and
scheduled a time at the end of the week.

I took the form with me to the clinic and was almost immediately called to
the back.  I was hoping that I would get the chance to see Dr. Sprague one
more time and wasn't disappointed.  She walked into the room, and even
though she was about eight months pregnant she looked fabulous.  She smiled
that radiant smile at me, and said she was so sorry my injury prevented me
from wrestling this year.  I responded that I still couldn't believe she was
so familiar with the details of our wrestling program.  We chatted for a
while.  She told me that she had married someone she met here at the clinic
(I was sure it was Dr. Banana-Dick).  After about a half hour, she finally
asked me why I was there.  I pulled the form out of my pocket and gave it to
her.  She quickly scanned it and seemed a little surprised I was going to
New York.  "No offense, but you don't really seem like the New York type to
me," she allowed.  I replied that I wasn't offended, and that I didn't
really see myself as the New York type either.  I further explained to her
that my grand dad still worked at a saw mill in Appalachia, and didn't have
indoor plumbing.  My dad was a career cop in the western part of the state,
and I felt that I needed to make money to help the family out. I told her
the offer from the investment bank was almost four times the amount of any
other offer on the table.

She told me that was understandable, but that money wasn't everything.  She
told me she didn't like medicine, but had become a physician because of her
overbearing mother.  She said that she probably wouldn't return to medicine
after the baby, but instead follow her first love and study art.

She pulled out her stethoscope and listened to my heart.  She checked my
blood pressure, eyes, throat and neck.  She laughed and said that she should
probably check me for hernias, but given what happened last time she would
forego it.  I joined her in a hearty laughter, and it died down to an
awkward silence.  I looked into her eyes and told her that had been a moving
experience for me.  I further said that I kept comparing every girl I dated
to her and they all came up short.

She thanked me for the complement, and we stood looking into each other's
eyes for a minute.  She put her hand on my shoulder and said something that
I didn't hear.  She turned away, quickly signed the form and walked to the
door and put her hand on the knob.  She turned back gave my cock a quick
squeeze and was gone in a blink.

I wanted to chase her down the hall, and beg her to come to New York with
me.  I would tell her that she could study art and have the baby there.
Then we would start having our own children.  Instead, I sat on the stool
and softly sobbed for a few minutes.  I put the form in my pocket and left
the clinic more confused than I had ever been in my life.

That was fifteen years ago.  I haven't married yet as I still haven't met
the girl that would compare to Dr. Sprague.  It's funny, but I don't even
know this woman's first name.

I wonder if she's happy, and I wonder if she is still with that banana-dick
jerk.  Most of all I wonder if she still thinks of me.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+