New Roles and a New Kind of Exam

As I sat in only my underwear, waiting for John to come back into the room, I couldn't help but think back to that day in my Senior year of high school when he had confronted me with those pictures. Since that day I had graduated, gone to four years of college and received my Master's degree in education. My decision to return to my old high school to teach had been in part influenced by the fact that John still worked here.

John had been the school nurse for years now, and had recently gotten his Master's Degree as well, as a Nurse Practitioner. His new role of running the school's community's health center kept him busy, so he was no longer coaching or running the yearbook. But he continued to teach a few science classes. As a new teacher I hadn't taken on any extra-curricular roles yet.

Now that I was twenty-four, I was starting to style myself after the bearish men I admired, John in particular. I was pleased with the thick growth of brown and blond hair covering my body. I had grown a full beard to match his, mine being brown and blond, while his was reddish brown and very curly. I was also built similar to him, though not quite as big. I was stocky, slightly overweight, but tough and thick.

I was approaching the end of my first year, and I hadn't realized that the staff on the compound usually got their annual physicals at the clinic as well. It made sense, there not being any hospitals within hours, and no primary care offices either. But that meant having a physical done by John, which both thrilled and terrified me in equal parts.

He had never brought up our meeting involving the photos, and though I figured he had not forgotten them, it seemed that it was in the past and not an issue. I had taken advantage of our new relationship as co-workers to spend more time with him - working out together at the gym, going to a movie, or spending an afternoon fishing on our own or with some of the other staff. I had looked for opportunities, but had not yet gotten a chance to see him naked. He often showered at home rather than in the staff locker room.

Now, sitting on the exam table, I was fretting. I was worried that I would get an erection while John was examining me. In fact, I figured it was pretty much a guarantee, seeing as I had fantasized about him for years now. Even during physicals with other doctors, I have always grown erect by the time the exam was finished. I try to think of anything else while they listen to my lungs, and its always the hardest when they have me lay flat and start prodding around my belly, moving toward my groin. I'm usually successful in not being hard yet, but all that contact with their hands moving around my belly means I'm primed to start growing with no delay.

My penis will be flaccid, short and stubby, nestled just above my testicles, not really pointing up or down. But when they start feeling one testicle, rolling it around in their fingers, the penis will start to lengthen and wave around as they prod this way and that. Then they ask me to cough or bear down or some variation as they push their finger deep into the space they are checking for hernias and my erection is invariably almost complete, thick and long if not fully hardened.

What I worried about with John was that I really would enjoy all that contact, and how could I keep that fact from showing and humiliating myself? Well, certainly not by having this course of thought going on. I realized I had started to grow hard, and I was casting around for anything else to think about when he finally came in.

"Hi Arthur, how's it going?" he came over and shook my hand formally. He was wearing a shirt, tie, and sports coat, and his formal dress made me feel even more unclothed in front of him. I tried not to stare at his full beard, which I was trying to emulate. I was raised up on the exam table, but still looking slightly up at him as he stood. He went over to his computer and sat, opening up my chart and making small talk about the school year and how my classes were going. He moved smoothly into my health, asking about stress and sleep.

Then he stopped like he had forgotten to mention something. He turned his chair slightly toward me and paused.

"You know, it can sometimes be awkward moving into a new role with me as healthcare provider, as opposed to your teacher and coach, or friend of your parents."

I nodded, mentally adding "or sexual obsession."

"I just wanted you to know, everything we discuss is completely confidential and stays between you and me. Neither our school bosses, nor your parents, nor anyone else you can think of will hear anything from me about our discussions. Okay?"

I nodded. It put me at ease how sincere he was being, his earnest face and raised eyebrows daring me to think otherwise. 'Our bosses' he had said -- it was still weird thinking of him as a co-worker, on the same staff.

"Thanks," I said, "I get it."

"Good," he replied, and half turned to his computer, tapping through the screens.

"Let's go over your medications."

By the time that was finished I had fully softened up and had even forgotten that I was in my underwear. Then his questions started getting personal.

"Bowel movements regular?" I nodded.

"Any trouble urinating? Burning or blood?" I shook my head.

"Any trouble getting or maintaining an erection?"

I blushed, and tried to say "No" in a perfectly natural way. John had been half turned to his computer till now, checking boxes with his mouse, but he turned to face me now, in order to engage more fully.

"Are you sexually active?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"Have you ever been?"

Again, I shook my head. He nodded.

"How about masturbation?"

I blushed hotly and looked down.

He chuckled, "I know, silly question," and the warmth of his voice was soothing. "Is there any pain involved, or any problems with ejaculation?"

I kept looking down, and shook my head. "Nope, it feels fine."

"Well, good," he said, chuckling again. "You'll be ready for action when the time comes. Do you smoke?"

I laughed, figuring he knew I didn't. But when he kept waiting for a response, I realized he couldn't just assume. "Nope, and no drugs either."

He knew I had beer or wine with dinner, having been out with me and the other staff socially, but he asked for the specifics anyway. He turned back and checked a few more boxes before pushing his stool back and standing up. "Let's go ahead and get a blood pressure."

He came up next to the exam table and asked for my left arm. I held it out to him, and he kind of wrapped it around himself so my arm was draped over the right side of his stomach. It was a portly stomach, like a dwarf's barrel - he often reminded me of a dwarf by his build, but up-sized to human scale. He was almost as tall as me. Sitting on the exam table, his stomach was just below my eye level. He lowered his right arm which secured my hand between his arm and chest. It felt almost like I was giving him a tender hug, and I dared not move my fingers lest he think I was fondling him.

He wrapped the cuff around my upper arm and lifted the stethoscope from around his neck deftly, keeping my arm secured there.

"Relax your arm," he said, and I noticed I had been holding it up without realizing it. I relaxed it completely and it hung there, secured by his arm, while he pumped up the cuff. It wasn't until thinking back on that moment the next day that I realized how comforted and secure that contact made me feel. The intimate contact of my arm and hand against his breast and side was putting me in a state of arousal earlier than anticipated, but it was such a warm, delicious feeling I couldn't help but revel in the sexual tension.

The part of me that wanted to avoid humiliation was now at a disadvantage when he got to the real physical part of the exam. The head and neck parts were fine, but when he started listening to lung sounds, I realized we were getting close to the part of the exam I was most worried about.

John held the head of the stethoscope between his index and middle fingers, so that his hand lay flat on my back while he listened there. His other hand lay on my shoulder, warm and heavy, as he directed my breathing.

"Take a deep breath in." Pause. "And out." Pause. "In... and out."

He continued to the front of my chest, resting his other hand on my back now. I was conscious of the hair on both my back and chest, and thought how much thicker it was now than when he had seen those pictures back in high school. The contact of his hands on my skin and brushing over my chest hair was just starting to cause some movement in the only part of my body still hidden by clothing.

"Just breath normally now, through your mouth."

I did so as he listened to my heart from a few different points.

"Now hold your breath." He listened for a few more seconds, as I wondered what he was listening for. He must have seen my curious look, and explained holding my breath allowed him to listen for heart murmurs without my breathing interfering.

"OK, lets go ahead and lie on your back."

He helped my feet up as I navigated my way back to lie lengthwise and center myself on the table. A chill went through me at the full-length contact between bare skin and the cool vinyl padding. John was on my right side now. He reached over and placed the stethoscope on the far side of my stomach, above the belly button. What seemed like an eternity later he moved it over to my right. Then down to the right side below the belly button, then across to the left. Bowel sounds, I thought, trying to think of anything other than the fact that I was supine in my tightey whiteys and sure any minute to pitch a tent that I would not have any way to hide from him. Already I felt the pressure of the head of my penis starting to push ever so slightly against the fabric. He hung the stethoscope back around his neck and moved on to the most dangerous parts of the exam.

With one hand on top of the other, he began to palpate around the same areas of my stomach with his hands, pressing gently, but firmly, feeling up under my lowest ribs.

"Let me know if you feel any pain or discomfort," he said.

I nodded.

He kept up a monologue as he went, explaining what organs he was feeling, why he was tapping on his own hand as it lay on my skin. His deep, soothing voice was putting me at ease, giving me something else to focus on. He was getting lower though, now just above my hips and pressing around my bladder, approaching my groin, and I felt the inevitable movement begin as blood flowed into my penis. I was breathing through my open mouth to hide how deep and heavy my breathing was getting.

"Can I have you lower your underwear?"

I lifted my bum and pulled the underwear down to my knees, then lay back flat. The waist band held my knees, keeping my thighs pressed together, which kept my testicles bunched forward. My glans was nestled just above them with only a small bunch of wrinkled skin as a rim separating it from my scrotum.

I had expected him to go right to the genital exam, but instead he placed his stethoscope back in his ears and placed the head on the left side of my groin.

"I'm just listening to your femoral pulses," he explained. He had done the same on either side of my neck.

He listened for about five seconds on each side, while my penis filled halfway with blood, lengthening enough that the tip drooped over to the right and up, exposing its soft underside. This was always the worst part of a physical, knowing that the doctor was watching my penis as it slowly engorged. It was something about another person knowing I was becoming sexually aroused and could do nothing about it. When he was finished, he hung the stethoscope back around his neck, not taking his eyes off my genitals.

He reached across and took my left testicle between his fingers, trying to reach behind it to feel the epididymis, but my scrotum was pulled tight from having my testicles pushed forward by my legs.

"I'm just going to have you spread your legs a little, to give us some more room," John said.

He watched me struggle to spread my legs for a second. Then apologized, reached down and pulled my underwear the rest of the way down my legs. He slid one leg off completely and left the underwear dangling on my right ankle. Once my legs were free, I spread them enough that my thighs were separated and my scrotum had room to hang down again. This put my lower legs out far enough that they hung down at the knees on either side of the exam table. Unfortunately, this caused the underwear to slip off of my right foot as it swung down.

John saw this and reached down to pick them up off the floor.

"Sorry," he said again, his face now going red at unexpectedly having me get completely naked. I could see him trying to find a way to fix the embarrassing situation, and not finding one. So he folded the underwear in half twice, and placed them on the stool he had been using, still bright red and avoiding my eyes.

Every doctor I have been to has had a different procedure for complete physicals, some liking underwear only, some having you wear a gown. I had one for a while who did the exam fully clothed, lifting my shirt when needed, and having me unbutton my belt and lower my pants only enough to expose my privates for the genital exam. Then he would have me roll away from him for the prostate exam right on the table. But this was the first time I had been completely naked for any part of an exam.

All the moving around to get situated, along with the strangeness of the situation and seeing John out of sorts and embarrassed by it, had halted the growth of my erection, but had not reversed it. When John turned back to me my penis was soft but full - a "sock full of sand" I've heard it called. It was pointed straight down, laying halfway over my scrotum, almost full enough to start rising into the air. I was trying my best not to think about it, and watched John's still reddening face as he approached my side again. He kept his eyes down below my waist, paused, and reached out to start the exam again.

When his fingers found the left testicle my belly tensed, and my fully primed penis jerked upright in response to the contact. I forced myself to relax again, but my penis was now pointing straight up in the air, and it was filling up completely, bobbing slightly with each heartbeat. He finished with the left testicle and moved on to the right one. His fingers were gentle and slow as he massaged them for lumps and searched around back for the spermatic cord. By the time he let the right testicle settle back down in my scrotum I had a full-fledged erection pointing straight up in the air.

"You have a good healthy erection," he said, squeezing the base of my penis between thumb and forefinger. "Just about right for your age." He continued to squeeze sequentially from the base upward, feeling the firm sides from base to glans. Then he did the same thing only squeezing the topside and underside of the penis, feeling the urethra all the way from base to head. Then he squeezed the head gently between his thumb and three fingers, like squeezing a grape. This pushed the blood out of the head completely, sending a strange new sensation down below my testicles. When he released it the head of my penis looked small and deflated on top of my full width erection.

"Can you squeeze your pelvic muscles, the ones you use when you're trying to stop peeing?"

When I did so, the head inflated again almost instantly.

"Good strong circulation," he said. "We don't generally do a full erectile exam during a general physical - more or a urology thing, really - but I figured since the situation presented itself..." he chuckled.

"I do notice a little dry skin on the sides of your penis, maybe a little redness here?" he pointed to the sides of my shaft, below the head. "Any itchiness?"

I shook my head. "No, it gets that way sometimes, after, you know..."

"Masturbating?" he clarified. I nodded. He bent his head down for a closer look.

"Its nothing serious, of course," he said, brushing a finger along the sides of my penis where the dry skin was noticeable just behind the head, "just a little chafing." The stimulation of his finger made the penis flex and hold for a second before relaxing, his eyes following the movement closely.

"Do you use any lubricant?" he asked.

"Not usually."

"Does it take you a long time before you ejaculate?"

"I don't think so. Sometimes I take breaks, you know, to make it last longer..." He nodded. "I think it usually gets like this when I do it too many days in a row. Then I just take a break for a few days and it goes away."

John reached back for his stool and sat, then twisted and pulled my underwear out from under him, placing it on the desk. I wondered when I would get the underwear back. He rolled his stool around, opened one of the lower desk drawers, and took out a small green tin. He stood and brought it over to show me.

"Ever used anything like this?" he asked. It was labeled Bag Balm, and had the picture of a cow's udders on it.

"You mean, to jerk off with?"

"No!" John laughed, "no, this would not be a good lubricant. And please, call it by the proper name: masturbation. Or self stimulation, if you like."

I blushed, remembering John's insistence on proper medical terminology. Even his kids never said they needed to pee, but to urinate, or have a B. M. John pulled off the lid and showed me the inside. It was a nearly solid clear paste, slightly yellow. "This is bag balm. You rub it into the irritated skin once or twice a day when the skin gets dry like that."

He dipped his index finger in. "Rub it around like this for a few seconds to soften it up and get it a little warm." He demonstrated, pulling out a glob and spreading it around between his thumb and first three fingers. "When you get it warm it softens up and is easier to rub in."

He reached down and surrounded the shaft of my penis with the thumb and three fingers' tips, rubbing the balm in, much like a sock puppet making a sucking motion. I realized that if this went on too long, having an erection would not be the most embarrassing thing to happen. John made his way to the base and swirled his fingers to coat the full length and girth of my penis, then swirled and massaged the head to coat that as well, focusing on the rim.

Gasping I reached up and grabbed his wrist, rising up on one elbow, breathing hard. John looked up, surprised, from where he had been fully engaged. He let go, and I held onto his wrist.

"I'm sorry," he said, "was that painful?"

I took a few deep calming breaths before I could answer. That had been close. I was seconds away from spurting all over him, I was sure.

"No," I took another two breaths, and the realization began to dawn in his eyes. "Not painful," I said. "Quite something else."

His blush deepened further as he caught on, and he avoided my eyes.

"Sorry," he said, his face a brighter red than I had ever seen it. I realized I still had a death grip on John's wrist. I let go, and lay propped up on both elbows, still carefully backing down from my near orgasm. He capped the tin and put it on top of my underwear on his desk. "That should clear up by tomorrow. You can use it as often as you need it."

I nodded, comfortable in the knowledge that I had avoided completely humiliating myself by cumming, but wishing my erection wasn't quite so obvious. It was still at full stiffness, and now glistened all over with the thin coating of balm that hadn't been fully rubbed in. John had turned back to close the drawer, and I looked over to the desk where my underwear still lay folded neatly on top of the keyboard.

John saw where I was looking and smiled warmly, his blush had faded mostly but his cheeks were still a little pink. "I still need to check for hernias, and then your prostate. Do you need a few minutes, or do you think you're OK?"