The Doctor

Like many other people I simply do not enjoy going to the doctor. I basically won't even go unless I'm really sure there is something wrong with me that can't be corrected on its own. Plenty of water and a few good nights of sleep take care of most ailments, in my experience.

One morning I woke up with one of those things I knew I had to call about. There was a sharp, pulsating pain in my scrotum right above the testicles. I could barely walk around the apartment it was so bad. I had seen my Dr. Lou earlier in the year because of some painful hemorrhoids that wouldn't go away. And now maybe six weeks after I had him poking around in my butthole, I was going to have to ask him to handle my balls. Not exactly what I want to put another man through, but sometimes these things are necessary. I entered the number on my phone.

"I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Lou, as soon as possible," I said to the receptionist.

"He is actually out the rest of the week. What is the nature of the problem?"

"Well...I have a very sharp pain in my...testicular region," I said, not knowing how to be delicate about it.

"Okay, well if you think you can wait, I can get you in to see Dr. Lou at 7:30 on Monday morning, or if you'd like to be seen today, Dr. Patel can see you at 3:30."

"Better give me Dr. Patel."

I didn't know who Dr. Patel was, and I didn't really care. As intimate as I had been with Dr. Lou lately, I really didn't have any particular allegiance to him. Again, I only see doctors when things get really bad. In this circumstance, I wanted to be seen by whoever would see me the soonest.

That afternoon, wearing the loosest, most comfortable sweats I had, I hobbled into the medical office about ten minutes after three. The waiting room was relatively crowded, as people of all ages thumbed through magazines or smartphones, waiting for doctors to see them.

The door to the patient rooms would open every few minutes or so, and a tall female doctor (or nurse, I couldn't be sure) would come out and call for the next patient. It was a woman I recall seeing on my last visit. She was a really quite attractive Indian woman, likely in her early 30s, tall and thin with light brown skin and stylish glasses with thick black frames. She had a very cold, clinical way of speaking. Very business-like, with a hint of an English accent. I smiled at her each time she opened the door, hoping she would smile back. Though she did occasionally make eye contact, her face never formed even the slightest expression as she escorted patient after patient back into her chambers.

After waiting 25 minutes or so, she finally came out calling my name. I slowly got up and walked over to the woman, smiling the whole way, despite the absolute pain I was feeling.

"Please be seated in room 5 and I will be right with you," she said, again not smiling back at all.

I read the ID she had hanging from a lanyard around her neck, which said, "Dr. Shruti Patel." I went down the hall into the assigned room, and unsure whether to sit in one of the chairs or on the exam table, I opted to just sort of lean against table until she made her way in to see me.

"Dr. Shruti Patel," I said out loud.

I felt dumb for never considering that the hot lady from Dr. Lou's office was actual the Dr. Patel I was going to be seen by today. It just seemed like they would only have a man examine me down there, but I am an adult and she is a doctor and I was sure we could get through this just fine.

After a minute or two, Dr. Patel entered the room and introduced herself. We talked a bit about the pain I was having, and she silently listened, nodding a couple of times as I spoke. Up close I began to notice just how gorgeous this woman was. Cute didn't really do her justice. She was actually a knockout. Her skin was perfect and smooth, her hair shiny and black with just a slight wave, her eyes big and brown and sparkly. Her body was very thin, without much curve, but still very sexy, even through her modest clothing.

"Okay I need you to take off your pants and underwear and sit at the edge of that table please."

Her voice, though monotone, still managed to turn me on a bit. Maybe it was the subtle accent, and maybe it was the fact that she was a beautiful woman bluntly telling me to take my pants off. I thought it a bit strange she didn't give me a gown or something to wear, but I guess there wouldn't be much point because she needed to look directly at my junk anyway. I was ever-so- slightly erect, which was good, because you don't ever want a woman to see you completely flaccid the first time she sees your dick. Even though I am packing a pretty good size, of course it still shows much better with about a 20% chub.

Naked from the waist down, I sat on the edge of the exam table and spread my legs apart so Dr. Patel could have a look. She crouched down in front of me and gingerly pinched my penis with her thumb and forefinger of her left hand, picking it up and out of the way of my scrotum, which she began fondling with her right hand. I had to remind myself there was nothing sexual about the situation, and that this woman was a professional.

"Let me know whenever it becomes painful," she said, gently squeezing my left ball.

"It feels pretty good so far," I said. And it did feel good. "The pain is mostly right there on top," I added, letting her know I wasn't just in it for the massage.

She continued to explore my balls with her right hand, stroking and pulling and pinching and squeezing, but never quite getting to the painful area I was referring to. I was actively fighting getting a full hard-on, but despite my best efforts I was still close to halfway there.

"Does it hurt more during an erection?" she asked, perhaps noticing I was inching my way towards one.

"I-I don't know, I haven't really had one yet today."

"When was the last time you ejaculated?"

I blushed. I had been single for several months, and after an initial period of watching lots of porn and masturbating frequently, lately I had been trying to abstain from masturbation, sometimes "edging," or touching myself but always stopping short of orgasm.

"Probably ten days ago," I said, knowing that it had been exactly ten days.

"How does this feel?" she asked, rubbing near the base of the shaft of my penis.

"It feels very, very good and yet very, very bad at the same time."

To my astonishment, she actually let out a smile at this comment. Fuck she was so beautiful.

"I have a theory on what is bothering you. But I to be sure, I am going to need to see you get fully erect, which may unfortunately be very painful. Are you okay with this?"

"Can't you at least take me out to dinner first?"

That was such a corny thing to say, but she let out a genuine laugh, then replied, "I know this isn't very common thing for your doctor to ask, but is there anything I can do to help you achieve an erection?"

"I don't suppose you'll talk dirty to me. Maybe lick your lips a little?" I asked, only half-joking.

She laughed again, adding "how about I do a little strip show for you?"

She was clearly kidding, but I couldn't help but picture this gorgeous doctor undressing in front of me. Even the thought brought me a bit closer to the desired goal.

"We have some magazines I can get you, but nothing pornographic I am afraid."

"I don't think any of that is necessary," I said. "I'm practically there already."

"Well then let me continue with my exam," she said, this time getting down to her knees in front of me. She was now tickling my balls with her right hand, and gently stroking the bottom of my penis with just the fingertips of her left hand. Though I believed her reasons were still within the medical realm, there was no doubt that the contact she was making with me was intended to be pleasurable. Dr. Patel was trying to get my dick hard, and it was working.

As I became fully erect, the pain near my testicles became unbearable. I was wincing from the pain, and Dr. Patel noticed.

"Pretty painful, is it?"

"Yeah." I had never felt anything more painful in my life.

"I believe you have a mild epidydimal obstruction, which is basically a blockage of older semen in your vas deferens that is causing you pain as your body produces new semen."

"How can we un-block it?"

"Well there is a good chance it will clear itself out with your next ejaculation. If not, then you will need to see a specialist and potentially have a surgical procedure."

"Well I can't go on like this. I want to try right now."

"Okay, I will give you some privacy," Dr. Patel said, letting go of my penis and standing up.

She turned away toward the door, but instead of opening it she turned the lock.

"On second thought, I think because of the level of pain you are in, it's better if I stay here and continue to observe you. Please lie down on the table."

I carefully peeled off my t-shirt and altered my position onto my back, huge erect dick pointing up at the ceiling. Dr. Patel rolled up her sleeves and walked over to a supply cabinet. She studied a few bottles before selecting a tube off of the middle shelf, and squeezed some of the contents into her hand.

"I can do it for you if that is okay," she said, eyebrow raised.

"Of course," I said, fighting back a huge grin.

"Please try to relax," she said, rubbing her hands together. She squeezed a little bit more of what seemed to be lubricant onto her hands, and then stood next to me at the side of the exam table. I couldn't believe it when, without pause, she wrapped both hands around my dick and slowly moved them all the way down my shaft before slowly bringing them both back up to the tip. I forgot all about the pain as I realized what was going on. This beautiful doctor was rubbing my dick with the intention of making me come. I was getting a handjob, and a very sloppy one at that.

"That feels nice," I said, barely above a whisper.

"And what about the pain?" she asked, sliding both hands up and down again rhythmically, and now just a little bit faster.

"It's still there but everything else feels so good."

"Good. Do you think you will be able to come?"

"Yes I do. Especially if you ask me to."

"Okay. Will you please come for me?" she asked, tightening her grip and speeding up her motion yet again.

"How bad do you want it?" prompting her to talk dirty to me.

"I want it so bad," she said, realizing what I wanted and playing along. "I want to feel your cum all over my hands."

I'm not normally turned on by the thought of coming on somebody's hands but she made it work. I appreciated my sexy doctor's effort in trying to get me off, and I was feeling outstanding. The sensation kept building and I knew I was going to explode soon.

"Please give me all of your cum," she said, jerking up and down on my dick with both hands. "I want to taste it."

Incredibly she stuck out her tongue like some kind of porn star, and stared directly into my eyes as she kept pumping away at my dick. On cue, I fired into the air, the first blast actually hitting her cheek, and the next several squirts falling back down on her hands as they kept sliding up and down my shaft. The feeling was incredible, an electrifying orgasm that nearly caused me to black out from intensity. More cum than I have ever seen continued to flow out of my volcano dick and onto my doctor's hands. The pain relief was instant.

Dr. Patel looked down at her hands, still wrapped around my dick, now completely covered in thick white cum. She walked over to the sink and rinsed her hands, then grabbed several paper towels, drying her hands, and bringing the rest over to me. She tactfully used one towel to scoop semen off of my belly, and used the rest to clean my shaft and balls. She once more walked to the sink and thoroughly washed her hands as I remained lying down in a trance, unable to move or speak.

"How about the pain now?" she asked, poking around at the area of my scrotum where the pain was coming from a few minutes ago.

"I think you fixed it," I replied sleepily.

"Very good. Now please don't let it go ten whole days until the next time you ejaculate. You can get dressed now."

I got up and slowly started putting my clothes back on, not wanting the moment to be over. Dr. Patel stayed in the room, making a few notes on my chart in silence. I wished I could kiss her or at least give her a hug. Noticing there was still a small white glob on her cheek, I grabbed a paper towel and walked it over to her.

"Dr. Patel, there seems to be a little bit of...stuff on your face," I said, pointing to my own cheek to indicate where it was on hers.

"Oh thank you," she said. To my absolute astonishment, refusing the paper towel, she scooped up the cum with her finger and quickly licked it off, as if by instinct.

"Can I see you again soon?" I asked.

"If you need a followup, please do so with Dr. Lou," she replied. "I'm not taking any new patients at this time."

"Okay, but what about outside of the office?" I asked, hinting at a date.

"I'm sorry. I like you but I don't think that would be appropriate," she replied, as if anything that had happened today was appropriate.

I left the doctor's office that day feeling like a king. Not only did I get to live out a fantasy moment, with a hot Indian doctor jerking me off into an explosive orgasm, but I also could walk again without a sharp pain in my balls.

That night I did a bit of e-stalking, finding some of Dr. Patel's social media pages. I wasn't too surprised to learn she was married, and already had two kids. I also learned that when Shruti was in college she had been in several beauty pageants in the UK, and had also done some modeling. I found a shoot she had done several years ago on a beach in her swimsuit. Her body, though perhaps a bit too skinny, had a little more curve than I thought, and she knew how to pose in a way that poked out her cute butt, making it seem fuller. I took the doctor's advice and masturbated several times over the next few days to the photos I found of her online.

That was the end of my experiment with edging. From then on I continued to enjoy myself at regular intervals when in between relationships. The pain never came back, and every now and then I would see Dr. Patel at the office while I was waiting to see Dr. Lou. She would make eye contact with me, but not offer any expression. The last time I saw her, I pointed at my cheek. She acknowledged the reference with the subtlest of smiles, then quickly turned away.