College Clinic Doctor Ch. 02


Advancing the tongue depressor toward his mouth, I said, "Open for me."

He would hear that again tonight.

From this very first part of the exam, I used a controlling tone and took more time than usual in toying with and invading my patient's privacy. Eric had set himself up for this, and on these rare occasions when I donned an authoritative demeanor with a patient, it felt initially strange---almost as though a different me was wearing the medical smock. I am an empathetic and helpful physician with nearly every one of my patients. Tonight, though, an appetite was driving my manipulation of Eric Destin. Knowing that he would ultimately, after some measure of physical and psychological protestation, enjoy what I was going to do to him whetted that appetite powerfully at the start of the examination.

I held the depressor against his tongue and peered into mouth. Did I slide the depressor just a shade too far back? Was I testing his gag reflex?

I stopped before reaching that point. It was still early into playtime.

Shining the light into each ear was accompanied by a firm hand laid fully against his skull to steady him. Holding him as I wanted him to be. Another preview of what he was to endure.

The check of his eyes. The stethoscope laid against his naked back, his chest. "Pull your shirt up, Mr. Destin, and hold it above your neck while I check your lungs." Not necessarily a great position for this part of the physical, but it brought his arms up, exposing that sexy V-taper which I so love. More importantly, it hid his eyes from me. I wanted him to wonder where I would touch him while he was "blindfolded"---yet another implication for him to stew over as I emphasized who was in control tonight.

"Go ahead and take your shirt off now. I'll draw the blood we need for the glucose test. You have not eaten anything since 8 o'clock last night, correct?"

"That's right."

A short, clipped response. He was still angry at not being allowed to skip his exam. He must have somehow skated through this procedure his first two years here at the university. Dr. Mays, the physician who had retired recently, may have been somewhat cursory. I knew Mays was a big fan of athletics here on campus, and being close to retirement he may have slacked off in diligence at the end of his career for his student-athlete patients. Perhaps Eric used that to his advantage---Eric certainly knew how to manipulate people.

Except me.

I took my time putting on the latex glove, snapping it against my wrist, and tying the tubing around his arm (oh, my, another psychological mind trip I could foist on Eric, and I did: "Let me make sure this is nice and tight, Mr. Destin.") I drew the blood, removed the syringe and tubing, and pressed a sterile pad against the puncture tightly. "Hold this here for a minute."

I must tell you that Eric Destin was quite a specimen. I would estimate bodyfat at something under seven or eight percent. His defined abs told me that. He was muscular yet lean. Sprinters usually are. As I stood looking at him as he held the pad against his arm, I realized just how much I was going to enjoy myself in the coming hour. He saw me looking at him. Good. I wanted him to know that he was the prey. I was the huntress who had trapped her quarry.

He shifted uncomfortably.

Leaning against the counter and looking at his chart, I said, "That should be plenty of compression on the puncture. Check to see that you're not bleeding." He removed the pad, looked at it and nodded. "Throw the pad into the receptacle"---I pointed---"and then remove your shoes, socks, pants and your underwear. You can place them on and under the chair."

He was already shirtless. My directive meant he would have to strip completely nude in front of me.

He hesitated.

"I need to record height and weight on your chart." I walked to the scales on the other side of the room.

A college junior can (usually) put two and two together. Protesting about my directions would have displayed his ignorance. Even a high schooler would know that a completely accurate weight measurement would have to be taken while naked.

True, the height measurement could have been taken in bare feet with his trousers still on. But that would have been a missed chance to have him naked and taking my directions.

He was agonizingly slow about shucking the ugly, baggy jeans that young men think so stylish these days. I made some impatient sound as I stood next to the scales.

Eric was turned away from me when he slid off his boxers. (More of the same disgusting, form-hiding clothing which, as far as I could tell, had the sole purpose of being stylish in color and print so the top part-—-always visible above sagging jeans for the über-hip---made some kind of statement.) I truly enjoyed the show, however, knowing the ugly clothes would no longer hide the form beneath. His asscheeks were smooth and muscular, with dimples on each hip indicating both leanness of flank and muscularity of glutes. And those glorious globes were high and firm, riding proudly on top of strong legs.

The aforementioned V-taper was sexy beyond measure when viewed from the back. I imagined myself behind Eric as he was bent over the examination table, firmly in my grasp as I held on to his waist right above the very slight flare where his muscular asscheeks would begin their rise beneath the heels of my hands.


Why he was folding those ugly jeans and boxers before placing them on the chair, I'll never know. "Are you going to drag this out forever, Mr. Destin?"

He looked at me over his shoulder with a "Don't rush me" expression, then finally turned around. The way he tried to hold his hands in front of his crotch while at the same time attempting to look natural and nonchalant was comical.

"Mr. Destin, I'm going to have your testicles in my hand shortly. Attempts at modesty right now are rather pointless, wouldn't you agree?"

I had stopped him in his tracks. He glowered at me briefly, then straightened as much as possible before moving his hands to his sides. (I was supposed to be intimidated by his height? He wished.)

"Oh. Now I see why you were reluctant to submit to your physical," I said, looking blatantly at his crotch. "You probably wanted to maintain a certain, umm, reputation, didn't you?" I smirked at him.

In truth, Eric's cock was beautiful. Given its non-tumescent state, I would guess that it would harden to a respectable six-plus inches and a quite impressive girth. However, in a world where any pre-teen with half a brain can access all manner of porn, including the incessant parade of cocks possessed by the tiny percentage of men selected specifically because their dicks are huge, perception is everything. This is a volatile mix for messing with any young athlete's head. Eric Destin was a handsome, sexy stud in anyone's book, including mine. His cock looked delicious and inviting, and I truly, truly wanted to wrap my fist around it to stroke it to full mast and then slide it completely down my throat, but that's not the message I was sending.

I can be quite the manipulator.

"Other guys in the locker room must have bigger equipment, Eric, but don't let that bother you. I'm not measuring your penis for the chart." I stood next to the scale and its extendable attachment allowing height measurements to be taken. I smiled at him condescendingly. "Really, you shouldn't be so self-conscious. As a doctor, I know pretty accurately what the standard length is for the male penis. Your penis is quite . . . cute." I dragged the sentence out to let him infer that I was patronizing him. It would make it that much more fun to take him.

"I don't need to maintain my reputation, Dr. Greene," he said coolly. "It speaks for itself."

"I'm sure it does, Mr. Destin. Step on the scale."

I took pleasure in teasing him more. "Move forward just a bit so the height measurement attachment positions correctly," I said, standing at the side of the scale. "Back just a bit." He complied. "No, that's not it," and I placed one hand on the small of his back and the other flat against the bottom of that rippling six-pack in order to jostle him forward a bit, then backward.

It didn't matter---the height and weight would be accurate in just about any position as long as he was standing on the scale. But I knew I would like the feel of his torso under my control, and he did not disappoint. His body was amazing. Too, my jostling him about produced the most delightful motions in his cock and balls, clearly visible to my view. As a university clinic physician, I see lots of young athletes, but Eric will always stand out in my memory.

I finished with my measurements and asked him to step off the scale. He walked back towards the chair to reach for his clothes.

"No, Mr. Destin, you undoubtedly recall my comment about your testicles, and I'm sure you know I must do a hernia check. Remain naked and move to the front of the exam table."

I saw the muscles in his jaw contract as he ground his teeth together. "I hope your hands aren't cold," he said as he grudgingly walked to the spot I indicated.

"Don't worry. I will warm them. I know the effect that cold has on a man's genitals."

More teeth-grinding. I was teasing him again about his equipment as I played with his head even more. Prompting more protests from him---about anything---was the point. It was a turn-on to hear him try to defend himself.

"That's not what I meant," he said, standing in front of the table. Of course, his legs weren't spread. He was still harboring all that nervousness about what I thought of his equipment.

"Spread your legs."

He looked at the ceiling and did as he was told. I retrieved the chart from the counter and slowly walked toward the rolling stool, pausing twice along the way to feign looking at something on the chart. You have no idea how much fun this was, toying with him like this, having him completely naked in my presence while I dawdled on purpose with the sole intent of extending the time his cock, balls, and ass were completely exposed to me.

I reached the stool and pulled it with my foot to a spot in front of him. Taking my seat, I rolled right up to his crotch and with no statement about what to expect or to warn him that I was about to touch him, I encircled by thumb and forefinger around his testicles snugly up against his crotch and then pulled down firmly, but just a little, to make it clear I had trapped his balls beneath my hand. Then I cupped them with my other hand, measuring their heft, lifting them slightly, then dropping them back down. I did this three times in succession.

Eric remained looking at the ceiling. From my vantage point beneath him, it was easy to see that he was once again grinding his teeth.

"How long has it been since your last hernia check, Mr. Destin? Somehow I suspect that Dr. Mays didn't quite get around to this your freshman and sophomore years. Am I right?" I continued palming, tugging, and generally enjoying myself with his balls. I was intent on eliciting as much of a reaction as I could produce in his cock. That would embarrass him even more.

"High school, I guess."

"Well, then, we shall have to be thorough." I toyed with him some more, and the inevitable began to happen. I saw his cock start to swell.

"Does this have to take so long?" he asked. He, too, was aware of the reaction I was creating.

"It's your own fault, Mr. Destin. Without a dependable baseline on your chart, I really don't have anything to compare your current condition against. For that reason, I'll have to try to notice everything and make a notation. Are you uncomfortable?"

His cock had lengthened and had started to rise.

"No. I just wish you'd hurry up. This is kinda embarrassing." He swallowed and continued to look at the ceiling. I'm sure nothing of interest was to be seen there, but the last thing he wanted to do was to look down and see his dick getting hard while I examined him.

"Oh, you mean because your penis is starting to react. Is that right?" I stroked and rolled his testicles in my hands. Gently, gently---every motion was calculated to be pleasurable while still under the guise of a medical examination.

He did not answer my question.

"Did your penis react this way in your last examination? One of the things that has to be noted in a thorough physical is the patient's answers to questions about sexual health, Mr. Destin." This was such fun---a gorgeous physical specimen of manhood under my complete control. NAKED manhood under my complete control.

"I don't remember," was Eric's lame reply. I tugged down on his testicles a bit, emphasizing that he was in no position to be coy with me.

"I'm sure you do, Mr. Destin. Most young men would remember quite well whether they got an erection during a medical examination. Now, for the record, did you get a hard-on during your last hernia exam?" During the entire duration of this conversation, I continued palming and gently rolling Eric's balls in my hand. The conversation was incidental. The duration was the important thing, and I focused on dragging out my inspection of his balls as long as possible.

His lovely cock was erecting nicely, and he hadn't yet answered me. I took my cue.

"Your silence leads me to believe it did, so I have at least a partial answer about sexual health." Now I would begin the teasing in earnest. "Unless you contradict me, I assume that some nurse or doctor, most probably female, gave you your examination and that you were ashamed to become excited in her presence. Is that what happened?" I released his balls and looked up at him.

His complexion could not hide the embarrassment I had produced. His eyes were shut tight, and knowing what was going through his mind---and his cock---was plenty to stoke the fires of my lust to take him this night.

"Guess so," was all that he could manage.

"Perhaps you should try focusing on something other than my hands on your genitals as we proceed. Maybe that will keep your penis under control." I would ensure that he would NOT be able to keep his penis under control.

As I moved one hand toward him to place it flat against his belly, I made sure that I grazed his cock in the process. It bobbed invitingly. "You can see, Mr. Destin, that your erection gets in the way of the examination. Please try to settle down."

Poor boy. His eyes remained tightly shut even as he continued looking up at the ceiling, his embarrassment intense. I truly love it when the young man I am about to penetrate has no clue about the fate awaiting him and is embarrassed beyond his worst nightmare as I prod him step by step toward his shameful admission that he enjoys getting fucked in the ass. The squirming, the protestations, the pleas and the begging along the way---they make it all that much more a memorable encounter.

Turning his head and coughing, first right, then left, did settle him down a bit. Maybe he thought he was getting close to being done with his exam?

I rolled the stool back a bit, still sitting. Still eye-level with Eric's lovely cock.

"Turn around and bend over." I rose from the stool and walked to the counter, unscrewing the lid on the jar of lubricant.

"Dr. Greene, can we please not do this?" His hands were covering his cock, trying vainly to hide himself and his embarrassment. "I know everything's all right."

God, I was tingling with excitement, but I slowly continued opening the jar. "I don't think so, Mr. Destin. Your coach wouldn't want a report that he has a little wimp on his team who's not even man enough to handle something as simple as a physical, now would he?" I laid the lid of the jar on the counter and looked at Eric.

His eyes blazed for a brief moment with defiance, but that passed quickly. He slowly turned around and leaned forward only slightly, stiff-arming the exam table in front of him in order to keep the angle as minimal as possible. "If you have to do this, then get it over with," he said, in a tone I did not think appropriate.

Whap! Whap! He didn't see me take the two steps toward him, didn't see my hand smack one cheek and then the other rapidly, firmly, and with no hesitation about making a definitive statement. "This is going to end right now, Mr. Destin. When I said, 'Bend over,' I didn't mean to lean over like you're doing right now. You know very well I meant to bend over," and I pushed him between his shoulder blades with constant pressure until he gave in and dropped to his elbows on the table, "and that you were to position yourself so it would be convenient for me to put my fingers inside your anus."

"Please, Dr. Greene, this is so embarrassing. Please . . . do I have to?"

I continued pushing his back. "Yes, you have to. Bend all the way over and put your chest on the table." It took at least ten seconds before he gave in and lowered himself to the table.

"Back up and spread your legs wide." I walked back to the counter and dipped my gloved fingers into the lube. The position I wanted him in was back far enough from the edge of the table that I'd have free access to his dangling cock and balls.

"Don't be rough with me, please. The last time . . ." He trailed off.

"Sometimes examination procedures are a bit uncomfortable," I said matter of factly. But his protestation gave me a clue about what was going on with Eric. It also gave me fresh ideas about how to tease him.

"So you got an erection when the female doctor's fingers were inside you?" I asked, stepping to his side.

It was a quite different Eric Destin, naked and ass up and about to be penetrated, than the Eric Destin who was such a swaggering jock two days ago when he entered my examination room. These boys sometimes make dramatic turnarounds when they find themselves in completely vulnerable positions.

"Like I said, Dr. Greene. I guess so." His tone was quiet. The words were catching in his throat.

I leaned my forearm across the small of his back and laid my ungloved hand flat against one firm naked asscheek. "You're lying to me, aren't you?" I started sliding my hand toward the cleft between his cheeks, keeping the other hand vertical so that none of the lube dripped off.

"She didn't care if she hurt me--"

"I didn't ask about your comfort, Mr. Destin. I asked if you had an erection while the doctor had her fingers inside you." My hand reached his crack, and I pried one side away from the other, exposing his tightly clenched starfish to my view.

"I guess . . . I . . . did." His tone was pleading.

"You remember perfectly well, Eric, with no guessing about it." It was the perfect time to drop the 'Mr. Destin.' My lubed fingers were just about to make contact with his asshole. I squirmed the hand parting his cheeks into better position, the fingers now spreading him open. "You remember very well whether your cock was hard during that examination, don't you?" Again, perfect timing to drop the medical-speak and start to use the language that he thought in when he---and all college boys---jacked off. I rested one lubed fingertip right on the center of his pucker. "You're hard now, Eric. Is it because you're afraid the same thing will happen?" I began the inevitable descent of my finger into the deepest reaches of Eric's soul. "Tell me what I need to know," and I stopped pushing, holding just beyond the first knuckle. Sending the message clearly that I controlled completely what would happen next.

"Okay, okay. Yes," he had turned his head and was mumbling into the padding on the table, "I was hard when she did it to me. It felt funny."

I pushed in deeper. "You said it hurt, Eric. You lied to me again, didn't you?" I stopped the progress of my finger once more. I was in up to the middle knuckle.

"Dr. Greene, ple-e-e-a-a-s-s-e-e don't make me talk about it."

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