Confessions of a Student Doctor

With his balls fully cupped in my hand, I feel his twitching with certain movements. As my fingers slip up towards his perineum, I feel his hairs becoming a little softer and increasingly wet with sweat. He is now breathing more deeply, as am I.

It's at this point that I tell myself that I have my way out. I will just continue this exam, touch what I need to touch without straight-up pleasing him and then I can get him the hell out of here.

He spreads his legs out a bit and tells me that the pain travels back where I'm touching, making a show of wincing as I touch behind his balls. I remove my hand and turn to take some notes. He lowers his cock back down and says "darling, another thing I'm worried about, is the fact that when I masturbate, my shaft gets sore along here. This will happen even when I haven't touched myself for over a week. Is there anything I can do to prevent that?"

He motions along the underside of his shaft. "Here, I'll show you how I do it, and you tell me if I'm doing anything wrong."

"Umm, I mean... I..." I say, really not knowing what to do. I think to myself that this is better than me touching him, so I keep my mouth shut. He starts rubbing his cock up and down right in front of my face. "Now see, how I usually do it is I put my fingers under the shaft and my thumb on top, like this," he says, stroking his foreskin up and down (what little he could, being so hard).

After a few moments of watching him, he grabs my wrist with his other hand and slowly brings it up to rest halfway around the base of his cock, my index and thumb wrapped lightly around the shaft, my other fingers slipping into his pubic hair, and his balls resting against my palm.

With my hand around the base of his cock, he starts stroking a bit faster now, his hand brushing mine on every downstroke. He put his left hand then on the back of my head and simultaneously leans in, slowly pulling my head towards his cock.

He lightly slides the tip of his cock across my bottom lip, spreading precum as he does. I am in complete and total shock, just frozen in place, unable to do anything to stop this sick, filthy old man from spreading his nasty precum around my lips like some kind of disgusting lip gloss.

I just let him.

After this he starts rubbing his cock over my lips and around my cheeks and face, bringing me in until my lips are resting against his hairy balls, holding my head there, wanting me to start sucking on them.

Finally, I pull my head back and speak up, my mouth dry and my voice cracking, taking my eyes off his cock. "Sir, I have another patient very soon. The nurse will be at any moment."

He stays still for a second, says "Well OK then, darling, thank you very much for your help" and lets me go, walking back over to put his pants back on.

I absentmindedly lick my lips clean, sitting there in shock as to what just happened not realizing what I did until after instantly feeling the need to throw up. I somehow managed to fight it down, but it was cutting it close.

The nurse comes in and starts collecting the info she needs, and the doctor comes in behind her to greet his brother in law. The old man tells him that I am an amazing doctor already and that with a bit more practice, I could be the best he's ever had (finishing this comment off with a wink in my direction).

He also mentions that I recommended physical therapy. The doctor said that was a great idea, told me to write it up. Just as he was about to leave, the doctor turns back around and says, "Ally, you do freelance physical therapy on the side, don't you? I'm ashamed to say that I immediately blurted out that I did, and that I have my own table that I take around to different calls. It's not uncommon for students to do this a little on the side for a little extra cash and practice -- and it helps out the patient as a cheaper alternative to something that their insurance might not fully cover, if at all.

I reluctantly gave Don my number at the direction of the doctor, unable to think fast enough to make one up.

I got a call the very next day from a number I didn't recognize and let it go to voicemail. It turns out I was smart to do so because it was of course the old man looking to book an appointment. I immediately deleted the voicemail and tried to forget it ever happened. It was my last week of the rotation at that practice, so there was no possibility of another appointment anyway. I just had to dodge his calls until he gave up.

Another day does by and he texts me a few times, really trying to book a time with me. If I'm honest with myself, part of me was tempted to do it. Being out of that rotation, I didn't have to worry about my job now so much anymore. Running through the situation over and over again in my mind, I can see now that the old man wasn't crazy or anything, just very perverted and pushy.

I could not get the sickly sweet taste of his cum off my mind. I masturbated furiously to the idea of giving in to him every night for weeks. Something about giving in to this disgusting old man's desires despite not having any genuine attraction to him made my knees weak. I hated him. I hated his smell, his stale breath, the sickeningly soft feel of his skin, but all those things just made me want to give in that much more. To debase myself for an old pervert's pleasure who doesn't deserve it.

I knew I couldn't actually go through with it, so I was somewhat comfortable in letting my fantasies take me for a little while until it subsided, and I could put all of this behind me. Meanwhile, I could hardly keep up a conversation with my boyfriend on the phone. We were doing the long-distance thing while we were both in school, and I couldn't bring myself to tell him or anyone else about what happened. I felt hopelessly guilty and found whatever reasons I could to get off the phone with him

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Chapter 3: One Day at a Time

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Mercifully, I was able to keep busy with my next rotation, which was two weeks OB/GYN. It wasn't until most of the way through the second week that I got a call from the family med doctor that I was previously rotating with. My stomach sank when I saw his name on the screen.

I reluctantly picked up, hoping it was a question about one of the other patients I saw, but of course it was about Don. He said that Don had called him saying that he wanted to schedule time with me for physical therapy for his knee and hip, but wasn't able to get a hold of me. He figured he just had the wrong number

I try to keep my calm on the phone, but my heart is pounding like crazy. A thousand thoughts are running through my mind and that all-too-familiar sickening feeling returns to the pit of my stomach. Does he know what happened? Is he helping his brother-in-law perv on me? Or is he just innocently trying to help me out by sending business my way as well as helping out the patient?

He asked me if I was still doing freelance physical therapy, to which I said, "Yes, but..."

"OK, well I'll put him in touch with you then. I really appreciate you helping him out, and this will be good practice for you!" I couldn't even come up with a reply. I really wasn't ready to make the decision right then. I finally say "Well you know, I've got boards coming up in July, and I'm really not sure of my hours at this rotation yet, I only just had my first day and..."

He cuts me off, "Bah, you'll only need to do a few hours, maybe two days a week, and you'll make some money on the side. This will be good for you. I don't know what you charged before, but I told him probably like $25-$30 an hour. I mean, it's not like you're making anything right now anyway!"

I sat there utterly speechless. I couldn't come up with anything to tell him and began to panic on the spot, which clouded my mind even more. I start feeling very nauseous and feel like crying.

"So I'll call him back, and then he'll give you a call to set up a time, OK? I'm going to text you his number now, so make sure you pick up when he calls this time." I barely manage to mutter out an "OK, thank you" while still trying to not sound like a total zombie. He hung up and I just sat there staring at the wall for a while.

I had it in my head that this problem would just sort of work itself out. If I just ignored his calls, he would eventually give up and I would be in the clear. Now I didn't know what to do.

I thought a lot about just doing it. Submitting to him like I have been longing to do, but I have no way to know this man is actually capable of. What if he tries to hurt me? What if he has an STD? I've actually thought about pulling up his chart and checking on his medical history, but unless he is currently my patient, or gives me express permission, that is a very big no-no.

I wonder to myself if I can meet him and actually just give him physical therapy treatment, maybe I would be able to just dodge his advances and just get the appointment done?

The next day the patient called me and I picked up. I fell into my mental fog immediately, but managed to keep things at least mostly professional for the call.

He tells me he's been trying to get a hold of me, and was glad his brother-in-law finally got through to me. "I knew I'd finally get an appointment with you, darling! I can't wait, my knee and hips have been killing me. I need those soft, healing hands of yours to really work their magic this time."

I just politely say what minimum I need to keep the conversation going, meanwhile my mind is racing a mile a minute with thoughts of what he really means by everything he's saying. I was getting so lost that I had a very hard time comprehending and processing the next thing he said.

"I was going to make another appointment for a prostate exam, but then they told me that you weren't working for there anymore, so then I knew I really had to get an appointment with you on our own. He thought that was pretty funny when I told him, haha!" I just sat there in total shock trying to process what he said. There is no way he thinks I would be willing, equipped, or able to give him a prostate exam in my own free time.

I brush off that comment, and he gives me a few times that he's free, and I tell him I'm busy for all of them. Then he asks me my new schedule, and I just blurt it out like an idiot.

"I work 8:30-5:00 Mon-Wed, and then 8:30-2:30 on Thurs-Fri." He told me we can do it on Monday at 6:30. He gave me his address and told me to come on over. "Go ahead and just walk on in when you get there, honey. The door will be unlocked for ya. I can't wait to see you, beautiful. You charge what, like $20 an hour? Put me down for two, sweetheart." I couldn't correct him. I just accepted. I told him I'd be there, and got off the phone.

I couldn't believe I let myself agree to an appointment. I laid back on my bed and just stewed on the situation for a bit before finally giving in and masturbating to the idea. I fantasized about his cum on my lips again, wanting more. Deep down I was longing for him to use me and it was getting harder and harder to resist.

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Chapter 4: Coming to My Senses

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As the week was ending and Monday was fast approaching, something in my head snapped and I finally came to the realization that I was being crazy. There was no circumstance where actually going and meeting this man was a good idea. I called Don and canceled the appointment, making up a family emergency and that I would be out of the state.

The fog had finally cleared and the fantasy had subsided. Reality was finally taking hold again, and it would be career suicide to go through with it. I blocked his number and refused to let myself give in to the fantasy any longer. I stopped masturbating altogether for months and just focused on my work.

Between my rotations and having to study for my USMLE boards to study for, I had more than enough to keep myself busy and to keep my mind from wondering any longer. Any time I began having bad thoughts, I would go for a job or go to the gym instead.

I managed to pass my boards and finish out the rest of the year without incident. Conversation and actual real interaction with my boyfriend finally began to flow naturally. I apologized to him and just blamed my busy schedule on my I had been so distant. Being the understanding sweetheart that he is, he completely forgave me.

I finally felt good again.

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Chapter 5: Relapse

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Over a year had passed and I just had a few rotations left until I was set to graduate when I ran into Don again. I was at a drugstore there with my mom running some errands (still living at home). We were getting in line at the pharmacy for me to pick up my birth control when he walked up behind us.

I first saw him walking towards us from a few isles down and immediately my stomach dropped. I'm sure my face was bright red as I turned away, hoping he didn't see me and that my hair would obscure my face, but no luck. He walked right up and greeted us very formally.

"Well hello there Doctor, it's been a while, how have you been?" He says as I turn around and greet him with a fake smile. He takes my hand into his and then introduces himself to my mom, who is just giddy to hear her daughter being addressed as such. We stand there and make small talk with him, me forcing a smile and trying to make absolutely sure my mom doesn't sense any weirdness going on. Meanwhile my heart is beating a million times a minute and my head immediately begins pounding as I stand there, not having any clue what to do.

He begins chatting up my mom, bringing out this innocent old man charm that is very different than anything I have known from him, and tells her about how he was supposed to meet me for a few freelance physical therapy sessions, but we could never make it work.

My mother, bless her heart, was so excited to hear that I was already building what she would later refer to as "a rolodex of clients" looking for me to treat them. She immediately began apologizing on my behalf for it not working out and making excuses for me as to why I didn't get back to him, this entire time I'm standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to come up with a way out of anything that is being said.

The rest of the conversation became a blur, and I felt almost drunk off of the rush of adrenaline, pure embarrassment, and that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. We finally made it up to the counter to get my prescription, and then said our goodbyes before leaving.

The entire exchange couldn't have lasted more than five minutes, but it felt like an hour to me at the time. I was just about speechless on the way home. I couldn't tell my mom about what happened now after all this, and she had given him my number (again) and her card, and somewhere along the way, I agreed to see him.

The next day I get a call from an unknown number and I don't pick up. They leave a voicemail and of course, it's the old man. I delete it and try to forget it ever happened, until a few days after that when my mom tells me that Don had called her saying he couldn't get a hold of me, and she told him that I would be free to go over to his house on Wednesday. Of course, we already had plans to have lunch that afternoon, so she told me that we could skip that so I can "build up my clientele." If only she knew that she was essentially turning me into a prostitute.

By this time that sickening fog has deeply set in and I'm starting to rationalize what's going on again. I have no idea why I do this, maybe it's some kind of survival mechanism, I don't know, but somehow I manage to trick myself into thinking that this will be an innocent exchange and I'll be able to get through this by just pushing past a little pervy-ness and get through an ordinary physical therapy session as I had done a dozen times before with other patients.

I end up heading over to his house in a pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting tank top over a sports bra, my fold-out table in my car (essentially a massage table, but we use it for PT sessions), gripping the steering wheel white knuckle tight the entire way. I keep running through scenarios of how to avoid anything inappropriate if/when it occurs, and trying to fight back the sickening lust provided by the idea of him getting off on me touching him.

I pull up in front of his house, and after sitting there for a moment trying to gather my thoughts, he pops his head out of his front door and waves me in. I let out a big sigh and tell myself just to hold it together, I can handle this pervert. If I don't do this, he won't stop bugging me OR my mother now, and I really cannot tell her any of what has happened so far, as she is nothing if not a worrywart.

As I approach his doorway, table in hand, he greets me with an inappropriately long hug, and I immediately get a strong whiff of that patent old man smell. I think to myself just for a second that maybe this won't be as bad as I thought. Maybe this guy got his fill and just needs PT now. Maybe I'm being overly worried for nothing... or maybe I'm just a fucking idiot.

I walk into his dark and dusty old living room and set up my table in front of the couch. He offers me something to drink, and I politely decline the tea that he already had poured into a cup waiting for me. I think to myself, "yeah, fuck that, I'm not going to trust anything this perv gives me."

I ask him if he has a chair I can sit on, and he brings one over from the dining room and places it between the table and the couch.

I ask him some routine questions about his current condition to find out what we need to work on. He tells me that his knee is still causing him pain, and my stomach drops as he tells me still cannot ejaculate and that he is feeling "prostate discomfort" as he calls it.

I ask him to have a seat on the table so I can take a look at his knee. He immediately begins undoing his belt to take his pants off, and I try to convince him that I can do the exam with his pants on, that it really is no problem and we would all be more comfortable if he kept them on. He completely ignored me and instead was listing off every little discomfort he had at the time, pulling down his pants to reveal that he wasn't wearing underwear. How convenient.

I swallow hard into the pit of my stomach as I see his cock sticking out, already most of the way hard. At this point, the inappropriate comments and compliments start again. Telling me how beautiful I am for a doctor, and that he's sure I'll be able to make him feel better this time. I try my very best to keep my composure and remind him that I am not yet a doctor. I ask him as professionally as I can to take a seat on the table so I can inspect his knee. Same deal as last time, he immediately begins grabbing my hands and trying to get me to feel different areas further up his leg.

My head is swirling at this point and I can't make up my mind one way or another on what to do about any of this. I clear my throat and begin testing his range of motion. I knew from previous visits that he had bursitis in that knee, and it was clear that he had exacerbated the issue. I try to focus on next steps to treat this, and pull out an instant cold pad and some athletic wrap to wrap his knee in order to hold pressure on it to reduce inflammation.

Next, I needed to feel surrounding muscles to see if any are tight due to overworking them to compensate for his knee pain. I had ignored everything that he had been saying for the past few minutes and told him that I needed him to hold his knee out straight so I could feel his thigh muscles under tension. I feel around his thigh, ignoring the fact that he was now not so subtly touching his cock.