Confessions of a Student Doctor

What is it that can be so alluring about doing something you know is wrong? Why do we have this urge to give into something that we objectively know is self-destructive? Giving in to a craving for chocolate cake or something is one thing, but putting your career on the line for something you don't rationally even want? This is where I found myself a few years back.

I was 26 years old in my third year of medical school -- for those who don't know, med school typically consists of two years of book work first and then two years of rotating through different medical practices to study under working physicians.

I was in the middle of rotation in a family medicine practice, and had gotten to the point where I could take on some patients myself and handle most of what they need for basic check-ups and exams, only having to call the doctor in to make sure I've gotten everything right, to actually prescribe medication or treatment, etc.

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Chapter 1: Just a Check-Up

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An older man comes in one day for an appointment and he's assigned to me. He's complaining of knee pain from a previous injury, as well as erectile dysfunction and discomfort/pain in his testicles.

I come into the room where he's waiting and ask him the usual questions: what he's feeling, how long he's been experiencing each symptom, etc. The man is in his early 60s, fairly overweight (mildly obese), mostly gray hair, and seems nice, if a bit odd. I jot down some notes and I figure I'll get the knee pain out of the way. He said his right knee has some swelling, so I ask him to take off his pants, as his jeans probably wouldn't really be able to be rolled up high enough.

Through the whole process he keeps saying little things, mentioning how young I look to be a doctor (I correct him to say student doctor), how pretty I am, and asking personal questions that I politely brush off. He pulls down his pants, sits back down and starts telling me that since lifting some heavy boxes a week or two ago, his knee just hasn't felt the same.

I ask him if he's been taking anything for pain, icing it, et cetera. I see that one of his knees is slightly swollen and note that down. He asks if I will feel them to compare, which normally wouldn't be an issue, but I was beginning to get a bit of a creepy vibe from him at this point. A few too many compliments, slightly inappropriate remarks, but nothing too bad (yet). I tell him I can visually tell that one is swollen, but he insists that I feel them. With a sigh I put on my gloves (procedure) and feel each of his knees and ask if any pressure points hurt him or not.

At this point he's having me try different areas, telling me that the pain is traveling up his leg and his muscles are sore up the medial side of his thighs. I take a deep breath, realizing exactly what he's trying to get at here and try to resist actually feeling my way up his leg. I check a little past his knee but then he tries to show me where it hurts by grabbing my hand and moving it to different places.

I tell him I will check for myself and that he doesn't need to take my hand - at which point he just plain caresses my hand, which shocked me and understandably made me extremely uncomfortable. I make an excuse to go and write some notes and try to make it as clear as possible that I have all the information I need for this issue.

By this time I am sufficiently creeped out by this old guy and try to tell him that I'll have the doctor check in with him about his other problem, as I didn't have enough knowledge on the subject (which was a lie). He begins telling me about the discomfort in his testicles anyway and pulls down his underwear without me asking him to. He stands up, holds his penis up out of the way, and then starts rubbing the place on his testicles where he claims it hurts him. I ask him several times to please put his pants back on, but he just ignores me.

I know exactly what he's trying to do now, and I am getting anxious about how to deal with it. He makes a comment about how he would like a prescription of viagra, but he says he thinks I might be the cure he needs instead, holding out his hardening cock. I take this as my way out and tell him that I cannot prescribe anything and that I'll have to go get the doctor. I start to stand up, but he moves around the desk and corners me between the desk and the walls to my side and behind me.

I am at a loss for words at this point. I consider yelling out for help because I have no idea what this gross man is capable of. I tell him calmly to please go put his pants back on, and that I can't do anything because I can't write his prescription.

He relents on the prescription but instead asks me to check to see if I can feel anything wrong on his testicles. He tells me that testicular cancer runs in his family, that he can't ejaculate, and that he is worried that something might be wrong. Visually, one testicle did look unusually larger than the other, and it was on the side that he had mentioned. It could have been a hernia, so I gave in.

With my gloves still on, I take his testicles into my hand, and begin to perform a routine procedure, hoping that he will be satisfied and let me leave. I realize at this time that this gross old man is getting exactly what he wants from me. This simultaneously pisses me off and -- as much as I am ashamed to admit it -- began to turn me on in a very strange way. Something about giving this pervert what he wanted just made me sick to my stomach, but also made me tingle in a way I didn't expect.

He asks me to feel around in different places and takes my hand again to move it. I pull my hand back and ask him not to do that, but he just does it again. He's holding his now very hard cock up with one hand, and he pulls my hand back up to feel his other testicle. He tells me to compare the two back and forth, and I do, but I cannot concentrate at all. I'm halfway torn between crying out for someone to come in and save me, and to just let him direct me.

Here I am, a third-year med student, sitting down in my chair with this strange old, fat pervert standing over me, his cock is rock hard, and I am letting him direct my hand in fondling his balls. My face is flush with shame and embarrassment, and I just don't know what to do. He has been steadily inching closer and closer to me to the point I'm breathing in his salty, musky scent. My stomach was in knots, completely overwhelmed, trying to fight back tears. All the while I can't help but feel my body responding to his perversions.

He mentions that when he moves sometimes, he gets pain that travels "further up." He drops his cock on my hand with a slap and that brings me back to reality. I pull my hand back and turn around to start scribbling notes as fast as I can, hoping that he will just go back and put his clothes back on. I tell him that I will take this note to the doctor to get his prescription, and that we're done here.

Having not moved an inch, he tells me that he saw on TV that doctors had ways of making men ejaculate and that it was something that they did for patients with this problem. I told him that to not believe everything he sees on TV. He insists that one of his friends had it done, but I very firmly told him no, that we do not do that here. I finally turn back around and he is blatantly stroking his cock right in front of me.

"Look, this is what happens, I try and try, but only precum comes out. Could you take another look and see what might be wrong?"

I find myself frozen with shock at the brazenness of this man's actions. I think to myself, 'is this guy really asking me to jack him off?' I am in utter disbelief.

By this time the whole session has gone on maybe 25 minutes. I look at the clock and tell him that I have another patient coming in soon and that he needs to put his clothes back on and go. He finally relents and goes and pulls his clothes back on. I get out of there as quickly as I can and go to the bathroom where I sit down and start crying. I felt so completely ashamed this gross man was succeeding in perving on me, and that it was actually exciting me in some strange way deep down.

When I finally come out, I see him talking with the nurse on staff. He leans in to try and give her a hug, which she finally awkwardly lets him, just to get him out of there. He pulls her in and has the audacity to kiss her on the top of her head! I stand there with a look of utter bewilderment and she looks back at me with the same. He lets her go, winks at me, and then leaves with his prescription.

She walked immediately over and asked if he was creepy with me. I froze up for a second, not knowing how to respond.

"Yeah, a little, but he didn't try to kiss me!" I said nervously, trying to laugh it off. The doctor came back by for an update from me on the patient. He tells me that the guy is his brother-in-law, and he thanked me for taking care of him. The man had told him that I was very professional and a very good student. By this point I knew I couldn't say a word about what happened, I was just too ashamed. I let him go too far and it would be far too embarrassing to admit that now. I decided to just try and forget about it.

For the week after that appointment, I just couldn't get what happened out of my head. I would think about it in bed before I went to sleep and just couldn't stop. I would get that same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the same tingling along with the same shame and regret.

One night I couldn't take it anymore and began touching myself thinking about it, making myself cum harder than I can remember. After that, I began fingering myself to these thoughts nightly, dreaming about giving in to this disgusting, overweight old man. I would picture his old musky scent, his cock as it stuck out towards me with my hands fondling his hairy balls.

I would always feel thoroughly disgusted and ashamed afterward, sometimes to the point of tears. Still, I knew I would do it again the next night.

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Chapter 2: Recursive Logic

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Two weeks later I receive an email update that an appointment had been added to my calendar. I don't think much of it until I see the name on the schedule; Don Simmons. The old man was coming back in for a follow-up appointment and had requested me specifically.

My mind is racing. I consider calling out sick or seeing if another student or intern can take the appointment, or that I can say I have an appointment of my own during that time and forgot to tell anyone.

When the day came, I was absolutely soaking wet the whole morning leading up to his appointment. I could not get it out of my head the whole time and was extremely anxious all day. That now-familiar sick feeling in the pit of my stomach kept hitting me every time I thought about what could possibly happen.

My logical mind finally stepped in and decided it would be a good idea to ask someone else to be there. I asked one of the nurses on staff if she could be in there to "help out," because the patient made me uncomfortable the last time I saw him. She understood completely and said she would. However, once the old man showed up the doctor pulled her aside and told her that he needed her for something else.

She protested and tried to make the case for helping me, but he knew exactly what the appointment was for, and scoffed at the idea of me needing help with such an easy appointment. Being that the creepy guy is the doctor's brother in law, we were not about to tell him why she was really going to be in there.

So she sees him in from the waiting room and lets me know that everything is ready. As I'm walking towards the room, I have this overwhelming feeling of anxiety, guilt, shame, and nausea. Still, I find myself flush with horny anticipation and -- as much as I'm ashamed to say -- wanting.

I walk into the room and greet him. He stands up immediately and tries to give me a hug, telling me how pretty I look today. I try to shake his hand instead, but he brushes my arm aside and hugs me tighter than any stranger should feel comfortable. His hand slips down to the top of my ass, his fingers feeling right where my thong crosses, and then follows it down slightly so his middle finger is resting over my crack. He was pulling me in close I think in hopes of rubbing his cock against me, but I managed to escape that.

I breathe in his old man scent as I'm trying to pull back, and finally am able to break away (with his hands sliding along my waste as I move back, of course). I walk around the desk and ask him to take a seat, asking him how his knee symptoms are now and if they have continued. He tells me that his knee is still sore, and now so is his hip on the same side (because of course it is). I take some notes, asking him my usual questions before reluctantly asking him to remove his pants once again so I can examine the swelling -- wishing this whole time that I could just blow that part off, but I knew the doctor would be angry if I didn't complete the exam.

He happily pulls down his pants, making small talk, and never taking his eyes off of me. Of course it's immediately clear that he already has a raging erection, and that drops me right back to where I was the last time. I've got a big lump in my throat, and find it hard to talk, but I manage to keep at least some air of professionalism.

I grab my clipboard and wheel the chair over to take a look at his knee. I reach out and start feeling around his joints, and he starts grabbing my other hand to move to his other knee to compare them. He mentions that he has some pain in his thigh muscles, and asks me if I thought they felt tense. He moves my hand up his thigh, and I pull it back to resist.

I tell him that I will find where I feel it is tense, and that he doesn't need to direct me. I feel the muscles along the medial line of thighs, and of course they feel fine. I say that I don't feel anything wrong, and he moves to grab my hand again, but I back away and start writing on my clipboard.

I tell him what I think about his knee as far as treatment, and recommend physical therapy, as it seems like this is a re-injury from a previous incident in his chart. He says "OK, now, would you be able to take a look at my hip, sweety? It's really been killing me lately."

I take a deep breath and ask what he's feeling, writing down the vague notes he gives me. As is (unfortunately) procedure, I ask him to lie back on the table so I can feel for any swelling, inflamed joints, etc. I turn around to set my clipboard down on the table, and roll it over to me.

When I turn around, he is just finishing removing his old, yellowing whitie-tighties, and lies back on the table, his cock looking painfully erect. I tell him that there's no need to take off his underwear at the moment, and for him to please put them back on, to which he tells me "well, you're just going to look at my testicles next, so what's the difference.

In my anxious, clouded mind, I can't come up with a logical rebuttal to that, so I just shut my mouth and walk over to start checking out his hip.

As I start to feel around his joints, just 6 inches away or so his cock is twitching and starting to leak precum. I feel like I'm going to throw up but cannot stop stealing glances at it. My eyes just somehow end up on his cock and I begin to get very frustrated.

I ask him where he's feeling pain, and he grabs my hand yet again, and slips it over to where his thicket of brown/gray hair starts. I feel around at this spot, not really able to concentrate, and then he grabs my wrist and quickly moves it across to the other side, saying that I need to feel the other hip to compare. The back of my hand grazes his shaft as it passes by, causing a big twitch, and him giving a half-assed apology and laughing.

It is at this moment that I realize that I have just made a huge mistake. I have performed the entire exam so far without my gloves. His wiry pubic hair over sickly soft skin brought me crashing into this reality. This is a big no-no in the medical field. Trust me when I say this. Secondary to all this, my loins are on fucking fire at this thought.

I pull my hands back and tell him that I'm not feeling any swelling or inflamed joints or tendons, so the pain might just be a result of compensating for his knee injury when walking.

I turn back to my clipboard, hands shaking, and start taking some notes. I walk back to my computer and start entering everything in, hoping to just stall and cut the appointment before the second part of the exam. After sitting surprisingly patiently for a few minutes (cock still out and at full mast), he says "OK then, beautiful, I guess that just leaves my little friends down here," as he stands up and motions to his balls. I swallow hard, and say that I'll be right over.

"Oh no worries, I'm already up," he says, already walking over, his dripping cock bouncing with each step. I tell him firmly that he needs to stay over on that side. He ignores me and says "Now whatever it was you did last time worked because I was able to ejaculate quite a bit that day and the week after, but now I just can't seem to ejaculate anymore."

He corners me again behind the desk, and grabs the base of his cock, "all that ever comes out is precum, as you can see here" as he gives his dick a wiggle.

I know now that I have to stand my ground or this will end very poorly for me. I tell him "Sir. I need to go back over to the bench and have a seat. I will come to you."

He looks at me for a second and asks if I have anything that he can use to wipe the precum off his cock. I grab a tissue from behind me and hand it to him. He takes it from me and slowly wipes the long trail of precum from the tip down to his balls. As he gets down to his left testicle, he winces and tells me that it's hurting much worse now.

I ask him again to go sit down, but he ignores me still. He lifts up his cock and takes a step towards me, "honey, please, would you just see if anything is wrong? No games here, I really am in pain."

I take a deep breath and somehow convince myself that it doesn't really matter whether I'm here by the desk or across the room. I still have to touch his balls either way -- a clearly delusional thought in hindsight.

I look at his hairy balls just a foot in front of my face, then up at him for a moment, and he nods to me with a slightly worried look on his face, as if to say "please, I just need help." He takes another small step closer and right as I catch a whiff of that familiar, slightly salty, musky, old man smell.

I tell him that I need my gloves, pointing to a box just behind him. He takes my hand and looks into my eye and says "honey, please, you haven't been using gloves this entire time. Come on, how dirty do you think I am?"

I stutter for a second and come up with no response, looking from his eyes down to his balls, and then to his hand holding mine. I had made up my mind before the appointment to stand my ground and not let myself slip into this mental fog, but my resolve was fading. I was somehow convincing myself that each little thing isn't a big deal, and that we've already come this far -- I even go as far as telling myself that as long as we both don't have open sores, then there is nothing to worry about as long as I wash my hands after.

Clearly taking my hesitation as a sign to continue, he inches closer still. My chair is against the desk behind me, so I have no more room to back up. Still holding his cock up, he uses his other hand to place my hand on his balls, telling me where to feel. I start to think clinically again and begin feeling around for any abnormal masses, and testing for pain in various locations. My nose is filled with his now even stronger musk, breathing it all in as I barehandedly fondle this creepy, fat old man's balls. The thought even crosses my mind as I'm doing this that I can feel things so much better without the layer of latex. Absolute delusion.