Part VII
After our skinny dip in the lake, it was time for 18-year-old Andy and 19-year-old me to get back into the sauna to resume the discussion about self-testicular examination and what the hockey player would experience at his sports physical with the lady doctor the next day. I, of course, had barely any idea of what I was talking about, but the fact that I knew that Andy should've been examining his balls once a month for bumps made me into the expert, in his green eyes at least.
We spread out our towels and sat side by side on the lower step, naked. The sauna had cooled to 160 degrees, low enough to stay in for a while. Once again, Andy began his time with his elbows on his knees, a position that generally deprived me of the opportunity to see his package. But I knew I'd see it again, and soon be discussing it in intimate detail.
"So you're in college, Stu?"
"Yeah. Just finished my first year."
"You smart?"
"Smart enough, I guess."
"Play any sports?"
"In college?"
"Yeah."
"No. Not nearly good enough for that."
"I hope to play, in college. Get a scholarship, maybe."
"Your grades good?"
"Decent. But it would have to be an athletic scholarship. I got a couple Division I scouts interested in me. So we'll see. How 'bout you, your grades?"
"I'm really good in science. Aced human biology. Did good in chem, too."
As Andy leaned back I did the same, and he scratched his pubic hair and took the lead in directing the conversation back toward where I wanted it. "So that's where you know all this, about physicals, from biology?"
"That, and I had a really good doctor growing up, and I've heard a little bit about what happens at the doctor once you're eighteen." In reality, all I had heard about adult physicals was what Kirk had told me, and his experience had been unusual and had crossed the line.
"Shit. I'm worried."
"Why?"
"Well, geez, I haven't been to a doctor, alone, in years. Well, never alone. Never, ever actaully. Last time I was at the doctor was when I was 10, and mom was there. You know."
"Sure."
"Otherwise it's just been those assembly line group physicals at school."
"Never had one of those."
"And this is a lady doctor. New in town. Brand new doc, I guess. You ever been to a lady doctor?"
"No."
"Shit, I'm already nervous. And you know what happens when you're nervous, how you, you know, can get shriveled up."
"Well--"
"But then there's the other thing. Now, tonight, sitting here, I just don't know if I can, you know, keep it under control. Down. Soft."
"Yeah."
"I mean, just the experience of talking about this, and seeing, um, learning from you about the self-testicle thing, what I guess I shoulda been doing, just, sort of, you know, gets the juices flowing. Tomorrow, who knows?"
"Just think about algebra."
"I didn't take algebra."
"Or baseball. Hockey."
"Cool Yeah." Andy moved up a level and I did the same, and then he leaned back and put his body on full display for me. Sure enough, he was sporting the beginning of wood. It was clear that he needed time to think, so I used the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to fantasize about what he'd be in for the next day. I guessed that upon meeting him, the lady doctor would be pleased by his good looks, taken aback maybe. As he sat there fully clothed with his tanned legs dangling over the side of the exam table, she'd consult the chart and see that his birthday had been just two days earlier. She'd say happy 18th, welcome to adulthood, that she'd treat him right, now that he was an adult. Andy would smile nervously, knowing his female examiner would be in control.
The doc would have to try to muster her professional demeanor as she asked him the routine questions -- first about his general health, whether he smokes, uses a seat belt, that sort of thing. Then the questions would get a bit more probing -- whether he is in a relationship, whether he's sexually active, whether he uses protection, whether he was examining his testicles regularly. She'd be concerned and surprised by his truthful answer to the last question, and would say that she would make sure to show him how to do it properly, toward the end of the exam.
Then the lady doctor would look at his tanned, strong legs and use that as an excuse to inquire about his year-round hockey play. She'd let her eyes drift to the crotch of the teen's cargo shorts, for just a second. She wouldn't be able to see a thing through the baggy cotton of course, but she'd know that within a minute she'd be asking him to strip down, almost completely, and that soon she'd see the young athlete in just his underwear. After she gave him the news of his need to undress, she'd leave the exam room wondering what kind he wore -- boxers, briefs, something in between. Maybe he forgot to wear some!? Then she'd re-enter the exam room and find Andy sitting--
"So Stuart, do they make you strip down, you think?"
"What?"
"Tomorrow, at the physical? Will I have to take everything off?"
"She'll probably ask you to get down to your underwear."
"That's basically what we did at school, during the group physicals. All us guys in our underwear. Or gym shorts, or whatever. But the turn your head and cough thing was pretty quick. It was a guy doctor every year, at least for that part, the hernia part, and each of us just whipped 'em down for a sec, and he felt down there, and it was over before you knew it. I just worry that that won't be over before I know it, you know?"
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Sure. I've been alone in exam rooms lots of times with doctors." Well, that much was true.
"You ever, um, get hard?"
"Once. When I was 14." That was true, too.
"What happened?"
"Well, I just got hard, during the turn your head and cough part."
"No, I mean, what did the doctor do? The guy doctor?"
"Just ignored it. But I have to admit, I stayed that way for the rest of the time. There wasn't much left, so I just pulled my underwear back up, but I had to sit there on the table for a minute or so while the doctor told me some stuff, and it was pretty obvious what condition I was in."
"Was your mom there?"
"Thankfully, no."
"Well, that's good. Did it happen again?"
"No. The next time, I, ah, just make sure it wouldn't happen again."
"How'd you do that?"
"You really want to know?"
"Yeah. Please."
"Well, the next year, my physical was after school, late in the day, like, at 4. I had just enough time to bike home, and um, do what I had to do to make sure everything would stay in its place."
"You mean you jacked off?"
"Right."
"Right before going to the doctor."
"Correct."
"Couldn't he tell?"
"What do you mean?"
"Couldn't he tell that you, um, jacked off?"
"I don't know. I didn't think about that."
"I'd be worried that the lady doc would see that I had jacked off."
"Why? Why would she care?"
"I don't know. That she'd think I was weird or something. Jacking off."
"You don't think she knows?"
"I don't know. I've never told anybody that I jack off before. Never 'till now."
I had never talked about masturbation with another guy before either, so we let it rest for a few seconds and the lull in the conversation permitted my fantasy to continue. I thought how the lady doctor, new in town, wouldn't be much older than Andy, actually. She'd still be a medical resident, and this her first clinic, here in rural Minnesota. She'd have long, brunette hair and wear wire-rimmed glasses -- more for the professional effect than anything else. Her fingers would be long and slender, and would be a sharp contrast to Andy's thick dick.
Andy would be sitting on the exam table, his naked legs dangling over the side, and the doctor would try not to look at his crotch, but she could not help it because his boxer-briefs were on the tight side. And as she stood right in front of his parted knees, he could not help but look at her breasts. She'd wear a white coat, but it would be open in front, and her blouse would be lower-cut than Andy was prepared for.
The beginning of the exam would be routine, and his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth would all be perfect. Then she'd warm her stethoscope in her hand, stand to the stud's side, and place it on his bare, hairless chest and then his back. The room would be silent, except for her instructions for Andy to breathe in and out, and his acts of compliance. The young doctor's fingers would brush his muscled chest just a bit, and after she had put the stethoscope to his back she would massage his breasts while explaining that men can get breast cancer too.
And then, it would be time for Andy to get into the particularly vulnerable position of lying nearly naked on the exam table in the cold, little room. As he got into position, the examiner would watch his penis and testicles jiggle through the tight cotton fabric of his boxer briefs and could not help but glance at his package once he was in the position. She'd venture a guess that he was above average in size, and of course, shortly, she'd confirm that she was right.
The 25-year-old resident would check Andy's abdomen and internal organs thoroughly, and would let her fingers intrude into his underwear as he got visibly more nervous. She'd venture that she had seen his penis stir as her fingers intruded slightly into his boxer briefs, and she'd reassure the 18-year-old that the "reaction was normal" and he should not worry about anything, that he was in "good hands." But the words "reaction" and "hands" would resonate in his brain as he realized that what the sexy young doctor was saying was that she knew he was hard, and that he was only 18, so there was little he'd be able to do.
She'd check the hockey player's knees and leg flexibility before deciding that under these circumstances, with a patient who is understandably getting aroused, the final part of the exam should happen with Andy lying down, so he would not be embarrassed of having to stand before a fully clothed doctor with his erection bobbing in front of her face. The doctor would look at the hockey player in his green eyes and reassure him that it was almost over, but that now she'd need to examine his "genitalia." The strong athlete's mouth would quiver just a bit, and in response the 25-year-old doctor would apologize and say she had no choice.
And, of course, neither would Andy. He'd lie there, stunned, frozen, as the female resident waited for him to pull down his underpants. But he would just lay there, so the young resident would have to take matters into her own hands and try to peel the garment toward his toned thighs. But they would not go down easily, of course, because Andy was above average size-wise as it was, and was completely hard by that point. So she'd do her best by lifting Andy's underwear away from his erect penis, but there was not enough give in the fabric to fit over a 7-inch erection, so his organ would land with a "thwap" on his toned belly as the doctor pushed his underwear to his knees. He'd apologize, and she'd say not to worry, that it would be over before he knew it, that she had seen it before.
Actually, she had never seen this before, such a fine young specimen totally hard on the exam table. And when she saw that his testicles also were large, she'd elect to take his underwear completely off so she could do the most thorough of examinations on a young man who had never had his testicles adequately examined.
But she'd begin with his penis, which she'd estimate to be at 7 inches, larger than her boyfriend's by a good bit. She'd begin with the head and notice that he had begun to leak precum. Then she'd examine the shaft and use the opportunity to assess an 18-year-old's erectile tissue, something she had never seen under the glaring lights of an examination room. She'd notice that the underside was a little red, but that there was no sign of disease. So she would not ask the hockey player about it because it would seem to be a symptom of frequent masturbation. Still, she'd wonder to herself how often Andy did it. And where. And how. And with whom.
The doctor would move next to his testicles. Living in northern Minnesota, she'd know about the danger of pucks, and would mention that her boyfriend played hockey too, so she'd begin the testicular examination by confirming that Andy wears protection at all times. Having a woman ask him a question about his testicles would cause Andy to hold his dick, as if that would allow him to choke off the developing flow of semen. But the conversation about balls would continue, and the young resident would again express surprise and regret that her 18-year-old patient had never been instructed on the proper way to do testicular self-examination.
That, she said, should change. Now. She'd ask -- well, order really -- Andy to climb down from the exam table and stand in front of the sink where there was a mirror. As he complied, his seven-inch erection would be almost flat against his taut belly and would barely bobble at all as he walked to assume his ordered position. The young resident would then put her left hand on his right shoulder and position him so he could get a perfect view of how she pressed his right ball between the thumb and fingers on her right hand and rolled it for any sign of lumpy abnormalities. The reflection of seeing the doctor, fully clothed, with her white coat open, and her cleavage there in that way, performing that sort of exam on a right testicle would bring the an 18-year-old to the edge. And when the female resident necessarily pressed her forearm into his erection to reach the left ball, the pressure would be too much, or just right, depending on how you look at it. The doctor would be able to feel Andy's penis convulse on her forearm, and they'd both watch as two shots of semen landed on the sink and three more on the doctor's arm.
But Andy would need more. The doctor could not give it, of course, but there would be nothing in the rules that said Andy could not do it, could not grasp his penis and fire off more shots of semen into the sink and onto the floor as he looked at his examiner's cleavage, through the opening in her white coat. And so, that would be what he would do, and after the last convulsion, he--
"But my physical is first thing in the morning."
Huh? I had been jolted back to reality, but I had lost the track of conversation.
"Morning. Um, OK, so?"
"It's at like, 8. In the morning. Shit, that's in like, 9 hours. I'm not going to have time to, you know, jack it. Not the way I want to. Need to, I guess."
"Well, do it before bed. Tonight."
"But you're staying in my room. No offense, but--"
I took the biggest sexual risk of my life to that point. At least with another guy.
"Do it here."
"Now?"
"Sure. I won't tell."
"Well, I don't know."
I just stayed silent, hoping Andy would come not just to his senses, but would just plain cum. With me.
Amazingly, he would. But first, he had a few more things to ask.
