Just What the Doctor Ordered

It was a gloomy, cloudy day in Februari when I first entered the physiotherapy clinic. The clouds matched my mood that day. My life was getting more and more overshadowed by an annoying medical issue. I had no idea what was lying ahead and tried to imagine the best while fearing the worst.

I am a man in his mid-thirties, pretty good-looking, as some of my friends tell me. I am not exactly a health freak, but I try to keep in shape by bicycling to work, where I spend too much time sitting in front of a desk. About a year ago an annoying pain started developing in my upper thigh, and this slowly got worse. Then I started having difficulties walking. My left upper thigh started hurting, and the pain radiated towards my buttock. It was time to see a doctor. He sent me to a specialist, an orthopedist.

The specialist diagnosed an inflammation, prescribed some anti-inflammatory drugs, and told me I should have ten sessions of physiotherapy. He told me that my injury was quite unusual for someone like me. "Usually I see this in women above 65," he said.

I was not happy to hear that. So young, and already getting older women's problems. "Why me?" I asked the doctor. He mumbled that there is always a chance you get something unusual. After asking me some questions, and discussing some possibilities, he speculated that perhaps it was caused by a minor bicycle accident I had a year before, that I unwisely did not seek treatment for.

I bought the drugs and located a physiotherapy clinic nearby. When I called them I was told that they had a therapist who was specialized in this kind of problem. Her name was Dr. Sarah Nichols. I could make an appointment with her for the next day at 4 pm.

I have had no previous experience with physiotherapy, so I had no idea what to expect. But I have a somewhat dirty mind, probably like many guys. When I hear "physiotherapy," my mind thinks "massage" and when my mind hears "massage," it thinks "happy ending."

The fact that the therapist was a woman triggered my imagination. I started getting images of a sexy babe, caressing my buttocks with soft feminine hands. Then she would accidentally touch a naughty part of my body that was not really under treatment.

Then she would say, "I am very sorry."

My reply would be, "Don't worry, you may touch whatever you need to."

Then these thoughts would evolve into various scenarios.

So that day in February I entered the clinic with very mixed feelings. On the one hand, there was the prospect of a lengthy, uncomfortable, and possibly painful recovery process, but on the other hand, I had my weird and implausible fantasies. I knew that these daydreams were never going to be realized, but I also knew that entertaining and developing these wishful thoughts cheered me up, so I consciously let them permeate my mind.

In the waiting room of the clinic, I felt a little out of place. There were mainly older people. Just after 4 p.m., my name was called, and I entered the treatment room. Sarah Nichols turned out to be a woman in her early forties, wearing a white lab coat.

I introduced myself, and she said, "Well young man, that is a nice change. Usually, I treat older women."

I told her, "I am glad you like what you see."

She smiled professionally at me and ignored my remark. She was of course not the sexy babe I was fantasizing about. She was good-looking, nothing more and nothing less.

The treatment room was very large, with separate areas for four patients. These areas had massage tables or beds separated by curtains from the rest of the room. She was treating several patients at the same time. Many of them received infrared treatment. This needed just to be set up, and then she could leave the patient under an infrared lamp for half an hour. Others appeared to be doing exercises under her guidance. There was not much privacy in these treatment areas. The semi-transparant curtain reduced most visibility but did not stop sound.

After closing the curtain she told me to remove my pants, and lie on the massage table, face down. I made a gesture as if I was also going to remove my boxer shorts, but she said, "No dear, I am sure it looks very nice, but I do not need to see it."

After I lay down she pushed the lower edge of my boxer shorts up, until it was just below my buttock. Having exposed my thigh, she started massaging it.

She said, "You really have some very tight muscles here," and then started kneading them like they were bread dough. It was extremely painful, and I screamed like a pig about to be slaughtered. The whole room must have heard it, but she was unmoved by it. So much for feminine empathy. She just continued until all tight muscles had been softened. She did not accidentally touch my balls, as I had hoped.

She prescribed a set of exercises I had to do at home. One of them was to lie on my back and fold my legs so that my feet were just behind my buttocks. I had to lift my buttocks and then slowly go down again, and relax. This had to be repeated twenty times.

We made an appointment for the next session. Now Sarah focussed on my back. I had to remove all my clothing except my underpants. She pushed the upper elastic band of my underpants all the way down below my buttocks. Since I was lying face down, I could not see myself. They forgot to cover the walls of the room with mirrors. But I knew she had a full view of my buttocks, and started massaging from the bottom of my buttock to the top of my back.

This started getting closer to my fantasy of soft feminine hands caressing my buttocks, but alas. What she did had nothing to do with caressing. She isolated a muscle, pressed very hard on it, and then pushed her hand up from my buttock to my shoulder. I felt my penis being pressed against the massage table within my underpants, but her action was so painful that no erotic thoughts entered my mind. And of course, her hand did not accidentally slip between my buttocks.

I asked "So what do you think of my buttocks," a somewhat ambiguous question that she could in principle answer in a purely medical way.

She replied, "Your muscles are much too tight. You should exercise more. But aesthetically, you have a very good-looking bum."

That was a pleasant surprise, and I thanked her for it. She was not scared to make the occasional risky remark. There was still hope...

After the back treatment, I heard the somewhat disturbing sound of rubber gloves being put on a hand. Sarah asked me to turn around, face up, and then she put her hand in my mouth. She started massaging the inside of my cheeks. At least that did not hurt as much as the thigh and back massage.

When her hand was out of my mouth I asked how this procedure could possibly improve the pain in my leg, and she said, "We have many procedures in physiotherapy that may seem counterintuitive. But everything in our body is connected to everything else. This is called the holistic approach. I happen to be a strong believer in that, but admittedly some of my colleagues are more skeptical."

In the subsequent massage sessions, the beginning was always very painful. She found tight muscles that needed fixing, and even knots, which were even more painful to massage away. But after about fifteen minutes she switched to less extreme massage techniques. During these periods we started chatting a bit, just to make time pass more pleasantly.

We covered a variety of topics of mutual interest, such as hobbies, favorite films, restaurants, etc. We also talked about our personal situations (we were both divorced), and about her profession. I asked if it was not very tiring to knead muscles all day. She said, "Yes, at the end of the day I am exhausted, and it ruins my hands."

Then I moved the subject subtly to the dangers of physical contact and the risk of accidentally touching private parts.

She said, "That is indeed an issue with this job. We get training sessions on how to deal with that professionally. For this reason, we try to keep the genitals covered whenever possible. But sometimes that cannot be done. For example, if I have to massage the inner thigh of a man, I will have to ask him to drop his underpants."

I said, "I would have no problem taking them off if the treatment requires it."

She replied, "Forget it naughty boy, your treatment does not require that."

She seemed to be fascinated by the subject, because without me asking more about it she said, "Of course sometimes men get erections. Some guys already get an erection when I massage their feet. This is quite noticeable, but I pretend that I do not see it. If they point it out themselves, and apologize for it, I tell them not to worry, that this is quite normal in a healthy man. Of course, they hope that I offer to help them with that, but of course I don't."

I said, "If you were to do that, you would probably lose your license."

She said that for a woman the risk of that happening was quite small. "Guys are not likely to file a complaint if you touch their genitals, accidentally or on purpose.

"They will make jokes like, 'Yes doctor, that part is a bit tight, maybe it needs a bit of massage.'

"I have a whole repertoire of sarcastic replies to deal with that. Once I even said, 'No, that part needs to be cut off, I see the first signs of penile gangrene'; I would invent a disease on the spot."

"And they believe you?" I asked.

"Yes, you'd be surprised. Apparently, I have a poker face. I can tell them such things with a straight face, and they take it seriously. Probably my white coat helps. Usually, this will shut them down, and their erections will disappear like an ice cream on a hot summer day."

I reacted with horror, "That's really cruel of you! I am not going to believe anything you tell me anymore."

Then I tried once more, "In any case, don't worry about me, I can assure you that I would not file a complaint if you mistakenly touched some part of my body."

She replied, "Nice try! You are a good-looking guy and also a naughty boy but do not have any illusions. I can control my urges."

So at least she did admit that there were urges to control.

She was on her favorite subject now and continued about the risks of her profession, "Women are not going to file a complaint either. There is a feeling of solidarity among women. Women have many more erogenous zones. I cannot always avoid them. But they do not mind as long as it is a woman touching them. My male colleagues have to be much more careful. Indeed, several have lost their jobs for alleged inappropriate touches of a woman. And with men, they have to be careful as well. Some more conservative men may accuse them of inappropriate gay activities, to which these men have a huge aversion."

A few more physiotherapy sessions followed, and I did not seem to be making much progress. Sarah said, "We will have to try another avenue. I know another kind of treatment. But first I have to determine if this treatment is suitable for you."

I asked, "Will it hurt?"

She said, "No, it will not hurt. Most patients react very positively to this. To check if you are eligible we have to do a blood test, and you have to answer some questions of a private nature."

She gave me a form for the blood test and then started asking me some really private questions about my sex life. When I last had intercourse, which sexual positions I had tried, if I ever had a sexually transmittable disease and if it was treated etc. I told her I had been divorced for about four years, and that the last time I had intercourse was almost two months ago.

I was deeply puzzled by all this, and I asked her what this was about. She said, "Your next appointment is Friday at 10. I will tell you all about it then."

When I arrived at the clinic that Friday she did not take me to the multi-patient room we had used before, but to a separate treatment room. I noticed that she locked the door from the inside with a key. The room had a massage table, and a lower bed for other treatments.

After we entered, she said that I qualified for the treatment. "This treatment was developed by Prof. Madicott from the Yale University Medical Centre. I was one of his students, and I am a big believer in this method. The treatment is highly controversial, so I want you to keep quiet about it, or it might damage the reputation of this clinic. Are you willing to sign a non-disclosure agreement?"

I asked if "controversial" meant that there was a risk that I would die, and she said, "Not at all, most likely you are going to like it. But I cannot guarantee that it will cure you. In that sense, you are like a Guinea pig. But I can guarantee that you are not going to have any negative effects."

I said, "OK, I will sign. Please tell me more about it."

She started again about the holistic approach. This time it involved the sexual organs. Only the male ones, apparently, because there was no corresponding treatment for women.

She said, "Not only are your sexual organs holistically connected to the rest of your body, but furthermore they are right in the middle of the pain zone. So it is not even surprising that they might play a role. The centerpiece of the Madicott theory is that the kind of pain you experience is due to insufficient or incorrect pelvic motion. Prof. Madicott started with the observation that the kind of pain you have occurs rarely in men, but when it does it is seen surprisingly often in middle-aged men who do not have regular intercourse.

"In his theory, he makes an interesting connection with walking on two legs and intercourse. Most mammals walk on four legs, and have intercourse only a few times a year, usually when the female is fertile. But humans can feel the urge to have sex several times a week, perhaps even per day. Madicott speculates that this was an evolutionary development that strengthened the back muscles, as required for walking on two legs. The pelvic motion that the male makes to thrusts his penis into the vagina provides the necessary exercise."

I listened with increasing interest, but also some skepticism, and asked, "But this would then not work for women, right?"

She said, "Indeed, but note that the problem you have occurs more often in women. So that makes sense."

She explained that Madicott had many more ideas of this kind, "He believes that surprisingly many problems are due to lack of sexual intercourse, but most of my colleagues refuse to accept that."

"So was Prof. Madicott ever vindicated?" I asked.

"Not exactly," she said. "He was fired for sexual misconduct a few years ago. At some point, he was known as the Freud of physiotherapy. Clearly some of his colleagues got envious and used the sexual nature of his treatment against him.

"But I tend to agree with Prof. Madicott. So now I have to investigate if lack of intercourse may be the origin of your problem."

"So the cure for my ailment is more intercourse?" I asked eagerly. "But with whom? I do not have a partner right now. Will my insurance pay a woman to help me with that?"

"Not so fast, you silly boy," Sarah said. "We first have to get a diagnosis."

She told me to undress completely and lie down on the massage table, face up.

"Undress completely?" I asked.

"Yes, please take off your underpants as well. This is a novel treatment, so what I told you a few weeks ago does not apply."

So I got naked, slightly confused, not daring to get my fantasies started yet. I was lying there with my flaccid penis facing up, and she moved her face very close to it in order to examine it. She put her hand on my groins, moved my balls to the left side and then to the right side, and did a very careful visual check. I could not avoid the impression that she was playing with it, but I assumed it was all part of the Madicott treatment.

Then she asked me to do the buttock-lifting exercise I was supposed to do every day. When my buttocks were up, she put four fingers just above my anus, and then slowly moved them up, barely touching my skin. Then she continued moving them over my balls, and finally over the staff of my cock towards the head. What a wonderful feeling!

She said, "Try to incorporate this into your daily exercise at home. It relaxes your genital zone, and also motivates you to do the exercises every day."

Much to my surprise, I did not get an instant erection, because my mind was still in medical procedure mode. But she told me to repeat the exercise several times, and slowly my mode switched, and I started getting the beginning of an erection.

She noticed it, playfully tugged my penis, and said, "You are getting a bit excited, aren't you? Don't worry, this is completely normal. But you have to relax more."

Later I began to understand that by "relax more" she meant, "your cock has to get harder."

There was a knock on the door, and I automatically covered my crotch with my hands. Sarah said, "Don't worry, that is my assistant. She has seen all this before. Come in, Lucille."

Lucille apparently had a key, so she opened the door and walked to the massage table. She was a very cute young woman, perhaps about 25, with a charming oval-shaped face, and long brownish hair. I could not judge her body because she was wearing a white lab coat that concealed all her curves.

She looked at my cock and said with a big smile, "Nice!"

Sarah said, "Yes, but he is not yet relaxed enough. Maybe you can take over."

Lucille took my cock in her hands and started making soft jerking motions. My cock hardened, but apparently not to her full satisfaction. I am still not completely sure why I did not get an instant hard-on when such a cute young girl started playing with my penis. I think I was very confused about the situation I was in.

"Please relax," she said.

Then she took my right hand and guided it into the front of her lab coat after she had opened two buttons. I touched her bare belly, and then my hand was guided down, passed her belly button until I encountered her naked pussy. She was bottomless under her uniform! Her pussy was shaved, and very smooth to the touch.

I explored it with my finger and found her pussy lips, her clitoris and the entrance of her vagina. I put my finger inside it. Sarah was on the other side of the bed, and could not see what was going on, although she might have noticed the muffled sigh that Lucille uttered.

Now finally my dick became rock hard almost immediately, and Lucille, who was still holding it, said, "Now we are talking. Just what the doctor ordered!"

"Is he sufficiently relaxed, Lucille?" asked Sarah. "Then let us go on to the second stage."

What followed next was completely astonishing. Lucille undressed, keeping her bra on, and lay down on her back on the treatment bed on the side of the room. With all her curves now visible she looked very sexy. Her pussy smiled invitingly at me. If she had gotten naked right after she entered the room, perhaps I would have gotten a full erection sooner. Or perhaps I would have been even more confused.

Sarah guided me towards Lucille and told me to insert my penis into her vagina.

"You want me to fuck her?" I asked totally bewildered.

"Please do not use vulgar language here," said Sarah. "We call this 'anchor point constrained pelvic motion'. This is the anchor point," she said pointing at Lucille's vagina. "Your penis will be anchored inside it. Insert it, and make the natural motions your body wants to make."

I slid my penis into Lucille's inviting vagina, and I felt her warm soothing wetness. My body automatically started making fucking motions. Sarah put one hand on my ass, and one hand under my belly, and started to correct my motions. "Move slowly; push your pelvis more forward," she said.

I started getting serious doubts about the whole treatment, but it was certainly enjoyable, so I kept my mouth shut.