When I was 19, I needed a work physical for a construction job. I didn't have a regular doctor and my money was tight. But, luckily, my mother was friends with Dr. Stephanie, a general practitioner. Dr. Stephanie was at my mom's house and when my mother brought up the subject, Dr. Stephanie volunteered to do the honors.
"I'll do it!" she told my mom. "No charge!"
I was hesitant about the idea of being seen naked by one of my mom's friends, but really didn't have many options and I reluctantly agreed.
After Dr. Stephanie left, my mom explained that it was really not a big deal. Since it was just a work physical, all I'd probably have to do is fill out some paperwork and maybe let her look in my ears and listen to my lungs. What a relief!
I wasn't attracted to Dr. Stephanie; she was a 49 year old sandy-haired blonde, a little chubby (but not bad), and she wore glasses.
It was set up for me to go in on Tuesday afternoon and be her last patient of the day. My mom sat with me in the waiting room as we waited it out. I filled out eight pages of information and a nurse took care of the preliminaries: height, weight, blood pressure. I had to pee in a cup and turn it in to the lab.
Finally, I was called to the back. Dr. Stephanie was wrapping up the paperwork for her previous patient and I was just sitting there and waiting patiently when my mom stuck her head in the door.
Dr. Stephanie started giggling. "I think Frank's a little old for you to be in the exam room! Just wait out front, it won't take long."
Then Dr. Stephanie told me, "Okay, take off your shirt and t-shirt," as she washed her hands.
I did and she grabbed a stethoscope and listened to my breathing. She checked my eyes, ears, and throat. Then she told me to lie down and relax. Once I was lying down, she started palpating my stomach and asking if I was having any pain. I told her I was fine and she told me to stand up.
"I need you to take off your pants and sit down," she said. I hesitated and she said, "Come on, don't be shy."
I took my pants off and sat there in my black boxer briefs and socks. She checked my reflexes and my knee surgery scar. I thought I was done.
"Now, I need you to drop your drawers," she said.
"Is that really necessary?" I asked.
I know I must have had that deer-in-the-headlights look because she said, "It's okay, Frank. Don't be nervous. Just take your underwear off and it'll all be over soon, I promise."
Reluctantly, I slid my shorts off and tossed them onto the chair with the rest of my clothes. I felt very self conscious about the way my junk was swaying in front of her. She pulled up a rolling stool and sat down right in front of me.
"Don't you need latex gloves for that?" I asked.
"I have small hands and the gloves just get in the way."
She grasped my penis and started checking out the opening. I'd remained limp up until then, mostly due to intimidation I'm sure, but I began to stiffen immediately.
"Uh, long as you're down there, uh...is every thing, uh, okay down there?" I asked.
She looked up at me with a puzzled expression. Then it was like a light bulb came on: "Oh, I get it! You want to know about the size of your penis, right?" and she giggled. "You're average length, no worries. But," and she smiled broadly, "it's really nice and fat. Girls like that, trust me."
Then she started rolling my testicles in her fingers and checking for lumps. By then I had a raging hard-on. She put on a pair of latex gloves and grabbed a tube of lubricant.