The sex-exam

“Number three, on the right,” said the nurse, holding a clipboard. I
started down the corridor, left to my own devices, looking at the
numbered doors. Something always makes me nervous about visiting
doctors even though this was just a routine check: the league wanted
assurance that I wasn’t going to have a heart attack during the games.
I turned the knob and pushed the door open.

It was occupied. “Oops, excuse me,” I said, backing out. Then I stared
frozen–a nurse had turned around and looked at me. She smiled at me:
her smile said *you and I are both enjoying this*. But it was the
patient that brought me up short: it was a man lying on the examining
table, totally naked!

I quickly shut the door and discovered I must not have been paying
attention because the number on the door was *two*.

I stood there, my mind racing. The man had been blindfolded! He was
lying face down, his hands and feet at the corners of the table,
fastened to it with cloth, canvass restraints around his ankles and
wrists. I went on and found room three. The nurse! She’d had rubber
gloves on both hands and was holding something shiny and metal: I had
no idea was it was, but it was a little rod, about 8 inches long and a
couple inches in diameter and was rounded at one end. I cautiously
peeked in room three, which was empty and went in. The door closed
behind me.

I hadn’t even sat down when the door opened to reveal the nurse with
the clipboard. She looked at the clipboard, then up at me: “OK, get
undressed and sit on the examining table. You can put your clothes on
that chair.” While she talked, the doctor appeared behind her and
stopped to talk to her.

“Number two is ready,” she said to him.

“Is Julie in there?”

“Yes.”

He paused and looked at me. “This one?”

“He’ll be next.”

“Good. Come along, I’ll need you in number two right now.” At that, she
followed him out and the door closed again. I stood there a minute,
feeling like something puzzling was going on. Finally, I started to get
undressed. When the Doctor had looked at me, I thought I saw his eyes
briefly glance down at my pants! I heard the sound of the next examning
room’s door close. Then I heard voices, but I couldn’t make out the
words. But I definitely heard male and female talking. Then there was
some laughing and giggling! I was down to my underpants. But instead of
sitting on the table, I stood next to the wall, listening. I heard
another little giggle. Then there was a smacking or slapping sound,
four times. Then talking and another giggle.

Then walking and the door opening. I went back to the table to make
sure I wasn’t caught eavesdropping. My door opened and the nurse with
the clipboard appeared again.

“OK, Mr. Sanford,” she said as the door closed. She glanced down at me.
“You need to take *them* off too.” She was undoing the hose from a
blood-pressure meter that was attached to the wall. I just sat there,
watching. Finally she had it ready and to put on my arm and had put a
stethoscope on and looked back at me. “Go ahead, get them off,” she
said.

I stood up and slipped them off, putting them on the rest of my clothes
on the chair. She gave me a little smile, then motioned me to come over
so she could take my blood pressure.

There I stood, a foot from her, my arm caught between her forearm and
her body as she wrapped my arm and pumped. Wearing nothing. It was
definitely weird. She was all business though, and was soon done.

“OK, lie down on the table,” she said. I looked at her–I didn’t quite
know what to make of this. I knew they might well attach electrodes to
listen to my heart and need me to lie down. But the memory of that next
examining room kept on edge. Certainly they’d listen to my chest and
ask questions and things before anything like that. “Go ahead,” she
said.

It was embarrassing. There I was, totally exposed. I did see her glance
at it, but nothing more than a glance. “OK, turn over so you are on
your stomach,” she said. She had a blindfold in her hand! “Come on,”
she added.

“What are you going to do?” I asked before I caught myself.

“Don’t worry, just do it,” she said and I caught a hint of amusement in
her voice. She was obviously waiting for me, the blindfold in her hand.
I turned myself over. I noticed restraints on the counter, looking like
the ones I’d seen the man in as I glanced around. “OK, here we go,” she
said, when I was on my stomach, moving to put the blindfold on me.

“What *is* this!?” I blurted and quickly sat up. This wasn’t right.

“Please, Mr. Sanford, lie down again,” she answered. I stared at her.
Too strange. “I don’t have all day,” she went on, looking a little
perturbed.

“Forget it,” I said, getting up and grabbing my underpants. I started
dressing.

“Mr. Sanford!”

“I’m leaving. I don’t want any of *this*… whatever it is.” I was
dressed and headed back down the corridor, leaving the nurse standing
there, seeming all the world like she couldn’t believe I was doing
this.

A woman was at the front desk talking to the receptonist as I
approached the front desk and she started out of the office, leaving
right ahead of me. As she held the door for me, she looked back at me
and I realized it was a woman who lived on my block. “Oh, hi,” she
said, smiling.

There we were, walking out into the parking lot. I realized her smile
had been a little nervous. I didn’t know her first name; Beth and I
always refer to her as Mrs. Jackson. I figured she was in her forties,
maybe ten years older than Beth and I. “Uh, listen,” she started
talking as we walked. “You won’t tell my husband about this, will you?”

This was weird. I thought about what I’d seen in the doctor’s office.
“You won’t, will you?” she repeated. I realized she was looking very
desperate.

“No,” I said. I hardly ever talked to either of them so I’d have no
trouble doing that for her. I briefly wondered what it was that she
didn’t want me to tell him: that I saw here here?

She grabbed my arm. “Please?” she said. She looked like she clearly
didn’t believe me, though I couldn’t imagine what would make her think
that. “Please don’t tell him!” She looked almost like she was going to
cry.

“I won’t. I said I won’t.”

“I *mean* it. Listen, come here,” she said, still sounding concerned.
She pulled on my arm back toward the building. But she pulled me behind
the building. I was out of my element. I just followed along.

She stopped and said. “Look, I’m *desperate*. *Please* don’t.”

“Look, it isn’t any problem. I really don’t talk to him anyway.” While
I was talking, she still held my arm but looked back the way we came
and then looked the other way around the building. We were between the
building and a high fence. Suddenly she was on her knees in front of
me, unzipping me! She glanced up at me with pleading eyes, then had my
cock out and in her mouth! I looked back and forth the way she had: we
were out of sight.

She quickly started bobbing her head, bringing her lips up and down the
length of my cock. I stared at her. I don’t think I’d ever really
thought about her as someone I’d be attracted to, but she was
reasonably good looking. And this was absolutely unique to *my*
experience: being sucked off in an alley! She didn’t stop, just went on
and on and soon I was coming in her mouth.

She sat down on the ground, her arms draped around my legs, looking
exhausted herself. In a few seconds, she was up again, and licking my
cock and I realized she was trying to clean it. She glanced up at me
again and I didn’t see the fear I’d seen before. She put my cock back
in, zipped me up and stood up.

She looked up at me, not saying anything. I couldn’t imagine what she
was thinking. I realized she had a speculative look in her eye. “Come
here,” she finally said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to the
parking lot. She pulled me to a car and told me to get in the passenger
side. She had her key out and it was evident that it was her car.

I was curious. What was she thinking? I went along with it and sat
there and soon she was driving us. She didn’t say anything, but one
time she did look at me and I saw her smile as she looked back at the
road.

Finally we pulled into a driveway–it wasn’t our block or even anywhere
close.

“Come on,” she said, getting out of the car. I followed her up to the
front door where she pushed the doorbell button and stood there
waiting, glancing up at me one ore time as she waited.

A young woman answered the door–early twenties at the most: she seemed
too young to me to be the owner of the house. She and Mrs. Jackson
started talking right away, and in a minute, Mrs. Jackson introduced
her to me as Lisa.

“I work in Dr. Starne’s office two mornings a week,” volunteered Lisa.

“She’s a nurse,” added Mrs. Jackson. Mrs. Jackson was taking off her
clothes!

The front door was shut, but we were standing in the middle of Lisa’s
living room and Mrs. Jackson was taking her clothes off, seemingly as
fast as she could. Lisa watched her a little while, glanced at me, and
then went across the room to a little cabinet.

Mrs. Jackson looked at me. “Hurry, get them off!” she said.

“Listen,”I said, wondering what I was going to say, “I…” I stood
there, mute for a second. Lisa had returned from the cabinet. Both of
them were looking at me and Mrs. Jackson was naked.

“Yes?” Mrs. Jackson prompted.

“I didn’t stay.” I can’t say my voice was very strong.

“Didn’t stay?”

“I… that was my first time at Dr. Starne’s office and I left
before…” I couldn’t go on–think of what to say. In fact, I really
didn’t *know* what I’d left before. They both looked up at me, seeming
to be amazed. I realized Lisa had blindfolds and handcuffs in her
hands–for two people! The three of us were frozen.

Lisa was the first one to move. “Don’t worry about it,” she said,
putting the items she was holding on a table. Then she was right up to
me, reaching up and unbuttoning my shirt! Mrs. Jackson was there in an
instant, too, undoing my belt and pants! “Listen, this’ll be great,”
said Lisa, looking excited. She had my shirt unbuttoned and was pulling
it off. Mrs. Jackson had my pants and underpants down at my anes and
was trying to get my shoes untied and get me to step out. Lisa had my
shirt off and I was in just a tee-shirt. She looked at it for a second,
then started unbuttoning her own blouse. I noticed that laying on the
small cabinet were some dildoes and a small whip.

Soon Mrs. Jackson had everything but my tee-shirt off and Lisa was down
to her bra and underpants. Lisa pulled my head down and started kissing
me, wrapping her arms around my head. Mrs. Jackson was behind me and I
felt her fingering my rear. “Let’s sit down,” Lisa finally said, and we
sat on the couch, one on each side of me. Mrs. Jackson started pulling
off my tee-shirt. As soon as it was off, Lisa pulled me into another
kiss. Mrs. Jackson leaned over and had my cock in her mouth again. This
time she didn’t bob her head, but just sucked it and tongued it. They
kept doing this for a minute or more, then Lisa broke the kiss and said
quietly to me: “You’re going to *like* this.” Then she was kissing me
again.

There were noises in the room, and I realized another woman was
standing in front of us! I broke away from the kis, staring at her.
Lisa looked up at the woman, who was fully dressed, just watching us.
She looked to be about Lisa’s age, but her hair was darker and shorter.

“What’s going on?” asked the woman.

“He got cold feet at Starne’s,” said Lisa. Mrs. Jackson was still
sucking on my cock and doing a good job too. The woman didn’t answer,
but she gave a quick giggle as if she hadn’t managed to catch herself.

I was going to come again. Mrs. Jackson didn’t stop and I felt like I
was out of control.

“Can you call them?” asked Lisa, apparently to the standing woman.

“Sure, what’s the number?”

“555-1212.”

The woman looked ready to go, but then just stood for a second. “What
should I say?” she finally asked. I was getting closer–so close. I
think since I’d come before, it was taking exquisitely long.

“Get Starne to come over during lunch.”

“Julie? Vicki?” I was so close to coming.

“Whatever. Yes, I guess so since we’ve got two of them.”

“*I* could help.” She had this grin on her face.

“Oh, *sure* you could,” answered Lisa, her voice sounding patronizing,
like a mother talking to her two-year-old.

“I *could*! I’ve watched, you know.”

“Kiss me,” said Lisa and she stood up. She and the woman were kissing
in seconds and it seemed they had forgotten us completely. The woman’s
hands went up and down Lisa’s back as they kissed and finally one
slipped inside the waistband of her underpants. They just kissed and
kissed, seemingly oblivious to us.