New Roles and a New Kind of Exam

I nodded, still propped up on my elbows "I think I'll be fine." My breathing had settled a bit, and I didn't think I was close to shooting anymore. It was probably safe to check for hernias, as long as he didn't linger too long. I had pulled my legs back up on the table after the close call, so I lay back flat again and spread my legs like they had been before. My testicles hung back down in my scrotum, the weight of them keeping my penis pointed straight in the air, rather than the usual angling up toward my belly. It was a position that accentuated the prominence of my erection embarrassingly.

John had washed his hands to get the bag balm off his fingers, and was drying them on paper towels, so I was in that position for an uncomfortable 30 seconds with nothing to do. I fiddled with my hands, finally coming to rest with them across the top of my stomach, fingers interlaced, my thumbs twiddling with my chest hair. His hands dry, John reached over and wiggled his index finger down behind my left testicle, pressing into the space and holding it there.

"Now keep breathing, but push your stomach out toward the ceiling. Push out kind of like you're trying to have a bowel movement."

It was a new technique for me, and I had to concentrate for a few seconds, trying to coordinate the muscles like he was asking. I looked at John to see if I were doing it right. His eyes were kind of half focused on my stomach and chest, like he was concentrating on what he was feeling inside. I had no idea if I was doing this right.

Leaving his finger where it was, he placed his other hand palm down on the lower part of my stomach. "Try to push your belly out, down where my hand is... that's right... OK, that's good."

I relaxed and tried to breath normally, realizing I had slightly raised my bum off the table.

He moved the finger over to my right side, pushing the right testicle out of the way with his thumb and pushing in again with the index finger.

"Again," he said, his eyes still unfocused, like he was looking through me. He had the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly between his lips, a look of concentration. It took me a few seconds again to marshal the right muscles to bear down and puff up my lower abdomen. John reminded me to keep breathing, so I did, trying to keep the right muscles relaxed. It was several more seconds before John pulled his finger back out again. With all the focus on breathing I hadn't realized another orgasm had been building, almost like waking up from a near wet dream and being right on the edge of ejaculating. I raised back up on my elbows and pulled my legs together again, ready to cover myself up should the most embarrassing scenario occur. I tightened my pelvic muscles and willed myself not to ejaculate. John just smiled warmly like he had no clue about the storm going on in my head; I was sure he saw how red my face was, but I guessed he was used to people being embarrassed by this part of the examination.

"I'm assuming you've had a prostate exam before?"

"Uh huh," I nodded.

"I think the most comfortable way is leaning over the table, if you want to get back up." He offered me a hand, which I held onto while he helped me sit up. He moved aside to let me swing my legs down, and I stood, turning quickly to avoid pointing my erection at him any longer. I was beginning to enjoy having him see so much of it. I bent over and leaned on my elbows, trying to relax. My erection didn't show any signs of softening.

I heard the squirt of lube onto a finger, then the snap of a cap closing. John put his left hand on my lower back, saying "This will feel a little cold, try to relax, and I'll go nice and slow." He slid his left hand down to my left buttock and placed his thumb right on the crack, holding his palm flat against the cheek and pulling it sideways.

He put the side of his right hand against my right cheek, spreading it wide. I tried to keep it relaxed, imagining my rose bud puckered out toward him. But when he placed the glob of lube on the tip of his finger against my anus, it instinctively pulled itself back in for a few seconds. I fought to stay relaxed, and eventually it opened back out again. John had been expecting it, and had held his finger gently in place with the lightest of pressure until I was fully relaxed. Without saying anything, he rubbed in a tiny gentle circle, and this time I was successful in not flinching.

His finger still making tiny circles, John coached me to "keep on relaxing, you'll feel a little pressure." I felt his finger slowly advance, but only an inch or two, until there was a little resistance. "Now bear down, like you're having a bowel movement." After a moment of this, I felt his finger slide through a little farther, and stop. "Are you feeling OK?" He asked.

I nodded, then said "Yep," remembering he couldn't see my head.

Up till now, this exam had been much slower, but also much less painful than any rectal exam I had gone through. Usually, after telling me to relax, my doctors had just pushed right in and done a quick sweep back and forth with the finger before pulling out again. This had the advantage of being quick, and having a shorter time of embarrassing contact, but it had never been painless. It was usually only painful for a few seconds while they forced their way in. But then it was sore for a whole day or two afterward. I had never had the courage to ask them to go slowly, figuring I just had to get used to it and "man up."

This experience was giving me a new appreciation for John as a gentle giant. It was a reputation he had gotten as a wrestling coach. He had never been beaten, by staff or student, but he had also never hurt anyone in the process. When you wrestled him, you got a sense that he was strong enough to crush you in a second, but that he was gently maneuvering you into submission, guiding you implacably against your struggling moves until you were in a safe position for him to pin you. It was only a matter of time, his strength was like an ocean current, somehow gently controlled. And now in this most intimate of exams, he would not force anything until my body yielded to his entrance.

So far I had felt absolutely no pain at his slow advance. His finger was probably half way in, and he was slowly advancing again. A few seconds later he seemed to reach the full depth of his finger, and he held it still for another few seconds. The lack of pain was a surprise and a relief, but I also realized that with no pain, the situation and sensations were starting to arouse me further.

John slid his left hand back up to rest on my left lower back, so that his arm was laid across my left buttock. As he adjusted himself behind me, his finger staying right in place. "I'm just going to feel around on your prostate, and the walls of your rectum. It might feel a little weird, or like you need to pee."

"OK," I said. I was starting to get worried now that I still might embarrass myself completely after all. I started talking, trying to combat where my body was taking me. "This is the first prostate exam I've had that wasn't painful, actually."

John's finger pressed down against the wall of my rectum and started exploring in a gentle circle. "Really?" he responded, "That's a shame. There's really no reason for this to be painful, if you're patient and slow about it."

It did feel weird, indeed. The gentle slowness was allowing me to feel what he was doing, as opposed to others who had pushed in and rushed around and out again while the initial pain of entry was still foremost in my senses. I wondered if the bad rap rectal exams had could actually be avoided. At the same time, John's method and the current feelings I was experiencing down there so close to his wandering finger could certainly lead to other unwanted effects. John was probably pressing around on my prostate right now, and I realized why some people talked about this as erogenous. I cast around for anything to say, as I desperately wanted to avoid cumming, and I felt desperately close to doing so...

"That does make me feel like I'm going to pee," I said. He must have heard the urgency in my voice, because he stopped moving his finger, holding it in place, but with pressure still on that spot.

"Don't worry, it's not actually going to make you pee," he said. "It's just that the nerve endings being stimulated are hard for your brain to disentangle sometimes. It really turns out to be more of an erogenous stimulation..." he pressed around a few more times "... more likely to cause ejaculation than to cause you to have an accident..."

He cut off then, because when he said the word "erogenous" it had sent me past the point of no return, and I felt the familiar build up in my loins that meant ejaculation was imminent. I took a deep breath and tried desperately to back off again, but it was no use, and as he talked about causing ejaculation and having an accident the wave overtook me and I did ejaculate, with John's hand on my back and his finger up my butt.

I opened my mouth and tried to keep my breathing steady and my body still, so that the only movement was the muscles shooting out my semen. I don't know why I imagined I could hide the fact that I was ejaculating; it was a vain hope. Although I succeeded in not making any noise, and kept most of my body still, I could feel my anal sphincter rhythmically squeezing John's finger in time with my penis squirting out ropes of semen. The mess on the floor would be enough evidence of my shame.

John held still and silent while my orgasm ran its course. It was probably my imagination, or the humiliation of it, but it felt like the longest orgasm ever. The more I willed it to stop, the more my muscles kept squeezing out more. The last few squirts had the added stimulation of my awareness of John's finger still in there, getting squeezed every time I squirted. I kept thinking it was done, then squeezing one more time. I could feel the intense heat of shame in my face, and felt that my whole body must be blushing red with the heat.

"Like I said," John proceeded, in case I was still in any doubt of his knowledge, "that was the much more likely reaction." He pushed down and around one more time, causing a sustained flexing of my pelvic muscles, then pulled his finger out smoothly as they finally relaxed.

I stayed right where I was and rested my head down on the exam table, letting my breathing settle, too ashamed to lift my head or stand up, not knowing what to do about the mess I had made. Behind me I heard the snap of John's glove coming off, and heard tissue pulled out of a box. John put a hand back on my left buttock and pulled it aside, and used the tissue to wipe all around my butt, then slide down the middle wiping the anus and my whole crack clean.

"You can stand up," he said.

I pushed up, a little wobbly on my legs -- I don't think I had ever cum in that position before. I stepped gingerly away from the table, avoiding the puddle of semen between my feet. Seeing my bright red face, John reached up and placed both his hands on my shoulders, squeezed, then released, leaving his heavy hands resting there on my bare shoulders.

"Really, Artie, this is nothing to be embarrassed about. Its just something that happens during the exam sometimes, I guess I should have warned you. I figured you knew, having had them before. But you said they were all painful, maybe that's why it hasn't happened to you before."

I was still looking at the floor, and at my slowly softening erection sticking out between us. John ducked his head to catch my eye, and I raised my head. He held my eyes with his. "It has happened to plenty of men before, right in this office."

I must have still looked unconvinced.

"It's happened to me, Artie. Twice."

"Really?" I smiled gratefully at the thought, happy to have the attention diverted. Also happy, I realized, to have another fantasy to imagine about John having his own physical exam. I had never considered that before...

John handed me the box of tissues. "Don't worry about the floor, I'll get that." John's face was no longer red, and I could see a hint of an amused smile, but I could tell he was trying to regain some sense of normalcy for both of us.

His insistence that nothing was out of the ordinary had put me at ease, and I was amazed that I was as comfortable as I was squeezing drips of semen out of myself while John knelt with paper towels to wipe the pool of it off the floor. He had to get some more towels to wipe down the side of the exam table where the first few shots had landed.

"Your underwear's over on the desk," he said from the floor. I walked over and picked it up off the keyboard.

"Your prostate was fine, by the way," he said, tossing the paper towels in the bin and walking over to wash his hands. "And all your equipment seems to be working fine as well." He grinned at me and I blushed.

"And don't forget, plenty of other guys have had orgasms during a prostate exam. Its nothing to be ashamed of. And, like everything else, it won't leave this office."

After all the excitement I was almost disappointed to be dressed again, but I figured I would be here again next year for sure. I hoped for many more opportunities to be seen naked by John, and to see him naked as well. I would certainly keep trying to bump into him in the showers at the gym, in locker rooms at local pools or the beach. John often volunteered to chaperone class trips; maybe I would try to join one with him that involved a stay in a hotel room. Staff camping trips, sleep-overs, any number of fantasies spread out before me, and I still had the folder with our pictures to keep me entertained until then.