Disclaimer: SPH-focused, softcore with no female nudity. Also, I am not a doctor or anything, so don't think things I write about hospitals or carpal tunnel syndrome or medical procedure are necessarily true or even real. Thank you.
***
A pain in my wrist got really bad one day and I went to the hospital, complaining of what I thought was carpal tunnel. The nurses at the hospital were all wearing a white nurse's uniform (the kind I didn't think existed anymore) with a starched, rounded collar, with the sign of Aesclepius above a pocket at her left breast, a cute, little hat and six inch, white heels. As an ass man, watching the nurses come and go from my spot in the waiting room was a little bit of heaven-- they just all had their butts sticking out in a sassy way, swaying under their tight skirts when they walked.
My nurse, Jana, was a slim, tall (6'9" in her heels, if I read right when she stood near the measurement on the wall of the evaluation room), stacked woman with skin the color of hot cocoa, dyed white hair, and thick glasses.
"Are you T****?"
"Yup, that's me."
"Hi. I'm Jana."
We smiled at each other, a brief, professional thing showing no teeth, but just a polite curling of the lips. She picked up a clipboard to review my case. She read it for a minute and I sat there basically staring at her, then at my feet while I dangled them from the little medical bench (my feet almost never touch the floor when I sit in a normal chair), then at her boobs pressed together in her uniform again. From my periphery, I saw her eyes reach the bottom of the clipboard and go a little wide.
I instantly stopped staring at her tits. "What's wrong?"
"Carpal tunnel pains?" She raised an eyebrow. "At your age?"
"I'm at my computer a lot."
"Your computer." She gave me a skeptical look. "What kind of work do you do?"
"I work at... the post office."
"Are you always on a computer at the post office?"
"Well, no, but..."
Jana set aside her clipboard. "Hold out your hands. I'll need to perform a little manual stress test."
I did. She took my hands by the wrist firmly, but not roughly. She held them with palms facing down, which I thought was odd for a medical procedure, but figured must have been specific to whatever test she was doing. Slowly, Jana began palpating from my wrist out to my fingertips. Whenever she reached a finger, she massaged it back and forth, for a little bit, as if feeling for something in the fingerbones or the joints.
First she reached my thumb. She looked down to grab it, put it between her thumb and forefinger, and began to pull and push searchingly along the length of my finger. While she looked down at my hand (I was still seated on a little medical bench and she was still standing) I had a perfect vantage point into the bountiful valley of her bosom in her uniform. It was beautiful, and the way she was touching me, like a handjob allegory... I was getting totally turned on. My eyes were glued to her jugs, lost in her cleavage...
By the time she had moved onto my index finger I realized she was looking me right in the eye and could see where I was looking. When our eyes met, she looked down out of embarrassment... right at my growing erection. Jana instantly, instinctively rolled her eyes away from it, turning her head away. With one hand she moved onto my middle finger, the other she brought up to her mouth.
"That's embarrassing," she said. "Sorry. Can you make it stop? Do you need a cup of cold water... or...? Do you want me to continue?"
"C-Continue," I stuttered. I was actually trembling with embarrassment. I was rock hard and she called it... embarrassing? She gave me another look and so I blurted, "Uh, it'll go away."
She moved onto my ring finger. I knew what was coming. I couldn't stop my stammering. "W-why should it be embarrassing? Just a bodily reaction, right? Y-you must see m-- I mean, it all the..."
Her probing medical interest unsatiable, Jana locked eyes with me, searching for any reaction that might indicate a cause of discomfort. Only my... rather small 'discomfort' was coming from in my pants, where my erection had started pushing against the front seam of my pants. It jutted out like a... like a...
Her fingers clamped my pinky between her two fingers. Not caring my reaction was obvious, I closed my eyes, gave a wince and grunt with effort as I barely prevented myself from jizzing my jeans.
"Oo?" she asked. The cute noise sounded appropriate for a humoring a baby or playing with a puppy. "Did some pain build up in your pinky?"
I know she meant my finger and not my erection, but it didn't matter so much at that point-- she had me so irreversibly turned on, there was nothing I could do. My cock twitched and my innards churned painfully as I barely held back another wave. If I had breath to say words, I said, "I... no... it's not there..."
"Can you... control yourself." Jana asked it, but it came out like a command. She might have been getting kind of flustered. "Sorry, it's embarrassing. It's just a little. But there is the matter of a short questionnaire, if you feel you're okay to continue. Do you need a minute?"
I shook my head, forced out a lying syllable. "No."
She let go of my hand and I felt my balls give a sigh of relief. The tension in my rigid member relaxed without spilling my non-stick glue everywhere. She turned from me and opened a drawer to search for the right paperwork. While she wasn't looking I squirmed in my seat and readjusted myself to make things more bearable. I breathed in a controlled manner at least twice. I felt calmer, less ready to explode, but no less erect.
She fitted the new sheet to the clipboard. "I'm going to administer our wimp test."
I immediately shrank a bit.
"Oh, it's not like that," Jana waved a hand dismissively, clinical as ever, though I could see that beneath that surface, she was growing more embarrassed for me, too. "Sorry. It's survey for the Wrist Impairment in Male Patients. Sorry, it's a little embarrassing to have to give this test. I'm sure it must be embarrassing to take it, too."
I exhaled, trying to forget about my worries. This was about my health, after all. "It's okay. I understand."
Jana pulled over a soft-cushioned stool on rollers and sat down. "Name... age... height... " she muttered to herself and crossed her legs in front of her as she filled out what she knew. "And how many hours a day would you use your computer?"
"Oh, pretty often," I responded. "Do you need just an average, or...?"
