My Annual Physical

James was never too excited about going to see his doctor, an affable older man named Doctor Williams, who he'd been going to see for most of his life. He was a nice enough guy, but he was a doctor, and that was enough to make him leery of the medical professional. It wasn't that James didn't trust doctors, it was just that he was quite healthy and, like most people his age, he had the irrational belief that he was going to live forever. This irrational belied led, quite logically, to the question as to what someone who was going to live forever might need from a doctor?

Unfortunately, James worked in an industry that required an annual physical. Today happened to be the day for that exam. He groaned inwardly at the thought of the older doctor sticking a finger where the sun didn't shine to check his prostate gland. James had recently celebrated his 45th birthday and one of the joys of that distinction was making sure his body wasn't starting the spiral of falling apart. It was all bullshit, he thought to himself, as he had gotten dressed that morning. Looking at himself in the full-length mirror behind his bedroom door he could clearly see that there wasn't a single indication that he was a day over thirty, or even twenty-five for that matter. He still didn't have a single gray hair and his abs were as tight as they'd ever been, if not tighter.

In fact, James thought to himself with some satisfaction, he felt better today than he did when he was in the Air Force Academy. An annual physical was only on his agenda because he required it to maintain his status as an active-duty pilot. What galled him the most was that he'd had to book the appointment to coincide with a day off, but, after a long-haul from the far-east, he'd have a few days in town to rest and relax, so it wasn't going to be a completely wasted weekend.

As he prepared to leave for the doctor's office his phone rang, "Hello, Sandy," he replied, recognizing the number of Dr. Williams' office on the Caller ID.

"Oh, good morning, James," the pleasant voice of the nurse-receptionist purred into his ear.

"Nice to hear your voice again, Sandy," James replied, smiling to himself as he thought of the pretty brunette making the call, "What can I do for you this morning?"

"Oh, James, there's so much ..." he could hear her take in a deep breath and was reminded of the time they had spent together after his last appointment. As his thoughts travelled back to that time he felt that familiar stirring between his legs and stifled a groan as the image of the young nurse, naked before him, beckoning him to taste her as he went down between her delightfully spread legs, seemed to appear before his eyes. James was suddenly aware that the phone was still pressed to his ear; Sandy was still speaking, "... was just calling to tell you that Doctor Williams is no longer at the office ..." James blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly, "I'm sorry, are you calling to cancel my appointment?" He felt a burst of frustration rise as he realized he could have accepted a flight to Milan for the weekend if he'd had some more notice.

Sandy quickly finished, "Oh, no, not at all," her voice was breathy, like that night, when his tongue was buried deep inside her and she had been begging him to keep going, to go deeper, to give her everything he possibly could, all of which he'd done, with enthusiasm. "At least," she continued, "not if you don't mind seeing another doctor. We have someone here who has taken over his patients. Will that be a problem?"

James thought about that for a second then nodded, "I suppose not, a doctor is a doctor, right?" he laughed, looking forward to seeing the young nurse-receptionist again. He didn't really expect anything to happen, this time, but ... as the saying went, hope springs eternal.

"That's great, I'll tell Doctor Francis that you'll be keeping your appointment. See you soon." She hung up the phone before he even had a chance to say goodbye.

"Hmm ..." he muttered to himself, "that was odd."

His thoughts returned to their night together and he suddenly remembered that one of the reasons that neither of them hadn't pursued the relationship, as enjoyable as the sex had been, was because Sandy had been involved in an off-again-on-again relationship that she had been hoping would turn into something serious.

On the day of his last appointment, one year ago, Sandy had been in a bit of a funk because, as she had said, her "Jerk-off boyfriend had stood her up the night before and obviously had no idea what a good thing he had ..."

It was the opening that James had needed, and he'd pounced. "He's obviously blind," the handsome pilot had said, seeing the distress on the beautiful face of the young nurse.

"What makes you say that," she asked, rewarding him with a glowing smile.

"I'm looking at all the evidence I need," he smiled back, feeling his manhood twitch. "Any man that can't see how painfully attractive you are—and obviously intelligent—doesn't deserve to walk in your shadow let alone hold your hand."

Sandy was more than painfully attractive, she had everything any red-blooded man could desire: she had an athletic body that seemed to be filled with boundless energy, perfect, shapely legs that gave the impression they had been plucked from one of the great sculptures; her skin was flawless, with a beauty mark that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn, and breasts that made his mouth water. Not overly large, but not too small either. Just perfect.

As he waited for her to respond his reward was silence. For several seconds James had thought he might have gone too far, but the look in her eye told a different story.

Taking a deep breath, "Are you doing anything this evening?" he finally asked. "I'd like to show you how a real man appreciates a beautiful young woman." It was a calculated risk, but one he was willing to take. After all, the worst she could do was turn him down. In truth, James knew that the worst thing she could do was scream an obscenity at him, but his experience with other women had shown him that this was not something he had to be too concerned with—at least, not so long as he was careful, and he was trying to be careful—for now.

"No ..." Sandy replied tentatively, "I mean, uhm ... I have no plans for ..." she blushed furiously, shook her head and met his gaze, "I'd love to go out with you."

"Good," he said, "give me your address and I'll pick you up when ... how about seven?" She nodded, her long hair, pulled back into a ponytail bobbing, "That would be perfect," she replied, writing her address and phone number onto a piece of paper for him. It had turned into a memorable evening. Apparently, revenge sex was on Sandy's mind. Good for James, not so great for whatever-his-name-was.

Dinner had been wonderful, but that had only been the beginning. After talking through a lovely meal, enjoying the sight of the young brunette sitting across from him, James had found it difficult to focus on the words coming out of her mouth. At one point he realized that Sandy's hand was on his, "You're not hearing me, are you," she teased, caressing his hand.

"I'm sorry," he replied, "it's just ..."

"You don't have to make excuses," she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"No," he interrupted her, "really, I didn't mean to be disrespectful, it's just that you're so beautiful."

She looked down at the plate in front of her, a half-eaten Tiramisu, "You want to fuck me, don't you?" Her voice was soft, but it penetrated the hum of the restaurant as though she had been sitting right next to him.

James looked around, suddenly afraid that someone might have overheard the beautiful woman sitting across from him. He slowly shook his head, surprising her, "No ..." he saw the surprised look in her eyes, "I mean, that's not the way I'd put it ..." his smile was intoxicating as he whispered his response, taking her hand in his. "This will be a night you remember—a night we both remember." He was pleased to see that she was blushing, the color spreading down her long neck, into her cleavage.

He leaned forward in his chair, pulling her hand toward him to make her lean in as well, "You need to understand something, Sandy," he whispered.

"What?"

"I don't fuck women." He wasn't closing the door to upcoming activities, but, for an instant, a cloud crossed the young woman's face as her eyes took on a look of uncertainty. Had she been wasting her time this evening with—no, she refused to give life to the thought. "What I mean to say," he continued, seeing the look of confusion on her face, "is that I don't JUST fuck women ... I make love to them. Tonight," he licked his lips, slowly tracing his tongue over both his upper and lower lips while watching Sandy's response, "you are going to experience more pleasure than you've ever experienced in your life."

She shuddered.

"How can you be so sure?" It almost came out as a croak.

"Are you wet yet?"

She nodded.

"How wet?"

Again, she shuddered.

"Oh ..." she shifted in her seat, "sopping."

He nodded, "THAT is how I know, my dear," he said, releasing her hand as he sat back in his seat, taking a sip of his coffee. It wasn't about being in control, but there was a certain pleasure to be had in knowing that you had the ability to bring someone an inordinate amount of pleasure, even without touching them. After all, he mused, the most powerful sexual organ was the brain.

As much as Sandy wanted to slip her hand under her dress and deal with the wetness that was spreading under there right now, this was not the time or the place. As a medical professional there was no way she was going to risk her career for a quick orgasm in some fancy restaurant. Not when she had just been promised an evening of pleasure. There was, however, no reason why she should have to wait longer than necessary. Sandy took another look at her dessert, picked the napkin up off her lap and wiped her lips, then placed it over the plate before trying to catch the attention of the waitress.

"What are you doing?" James asked.

"I think it's time to get the bill." Her eyes darted around the restaurant, but she couldn't seem to find their waitress.

"Good idea," he laughed, catching the eye of the waitress as she passed their table. Once the bill had been paid they returned to his place and indulged in a night of passion that would, as promised, be a night to remember for them both. What Sandy may have lacked in experience she made up for with exuberance and athletic ability. James, on the other hand, was a practiced hand at the art of love, and treated a woman's body like a temple. An opportunity to make love was an opportunity to worship, an opportunity to bring the ultimate sacrifice of praise to the altar of love. If flying was his profession, how he made his living, then making love was his calling, how he wanted to spend his life. Flying was a way to take people places, to take them from one continent to another; making love, on the other hand, was a way to transport someone out of this world.

That evening, he was pleased to recall, Sandy had slipped the surly bonds of the earth as they made passionate love and yes, they had indeed fucked each other senseless, but not before he had driven the young nurse to the most earth-shattering orgasm she'd ever experienced in her life. That was just for openers. Apparently, it turned out, her good-for-nothing semi-boyfriend had never gone down on her. Oh, he wanted her to give him blowjobs—of course—but he had never returned the favor. That was the first thing that James had taken care of when they returned to his place.

Once Sandy had slipped off the dress she was wearing James knew he was going to have to pace himself. When he slipped his fingers inside her sopping pussy she groaned in delight. Inarticulate sounds as she threw her head back, relishing the touch of the man who was guiding her to a manual orgasm.

He gently guided her to the couch and positioned himself between her sexy legs, and then began the real worshipping at the temple of love. James had discovered, at a fairly young age, that there was nothing quite like the taste of a woman. He loved the way their kisses tasted, but more than anything, he loved the way their sex tasted. Whether it was called a vagina, a pussy, or a cunt, he could have it as a meal, a snack, or anything in between: it was something he could never grow tired of, and everyone he'd tried was different.

International travel had given him the opportunity to taste more women than he'd thought possible, and it had only reinforced his belief that all women were beautiful. It really didn't matter whether they were tall or short, plump, or thin. Every woman had their charms. He had also discovered that almost every woman he'd been with had the potentiality of being multi-orgasmic. Many of the women he had met had complained, before their lovemaking, that they had never experienced an orgasm from "straight sex" ... well, none of them could make that claim afterwards.

Sandy had experienced orgasms, but never by manual stimulation, and never from having someone eat her out. That all changed before James slipped his throbbing cock into her sopping pussy. By that time, she had already experienced her fourth orgasm of the evening and was well on her way to her fifth.

A sound distracted James and he realized he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his erection in his hand as he relived the memory of that night from one year ago. Shaking his head and smiling ruefully, he released himself, replaced his phone into his shirt pocket, and rearranged his clothes. He then grabbed his jacket and keys and left his apartment. He had a few errands to run before his appointment and didn't want to be late for the new doctor.

*****

When James arrived at the Keys Medical Clinic he was pleased to see that the waiting room was nearly empty. Sandy beamed at him as he approached the front desk, "Oh, James," she blushed, "it's good to see you again. How are you?"

Even though they had spent an entire evening making passionate love to each other, not to mention most of the next day, Sandy seemed to be trying to be as professional as possible as she welcomed him to the office.

At the same time, her interest seemed genuine, but James saw it as a well-practiced routine, much like what the flight attendants he worked with on every flight showed to the passengers they dealt with every day. Many of them were young and attractive, but they were all highly trained professionals, and while there were many stories about high altitude hijinks, most of them were just that: stories. Of course, there were some cases where flight attendants did have some adventures in the air, especially with other off-duty crew, but that was another story, one with which James was intimately familiar.

"It's good to see you too, Sandy," he smiled, pleased to see the young woman blush as he gave her an appraising glance. "What's new?"

She glanced to her left, then right, then offered him a view of her right hand, showing off a small but elegant antique engagement ring. "Isn't it gorgeous?" she whispered. "My boyfriend proposed to me last month. We're going to get married in November." James looked at the young woman's extended hand, imagining for a moment what it would be like to be her fiancé, to spend another evening with this enchanting creature, spending another night making slow, passionate love to this woman, bringing her to one orgasm after another. He was so lost in thought that he missed what she said to him and she had to repeat it, "... you've ever seen?" she asked again.

"I'm sorry?" he replied.

He was rewarded with a sly grin.

"I recognize that far-away look, Captain," she chided. "You were remembering something, something ... special, weren't you?" she winked, licking her lips seductively.

James swallowed hard, "How'd you guess?"

She leaned toward the ledge separating them, "I remembered," she whispered, then held up her hand. "Well," she repeated, "isn't that the most romantic thing you've ever heard?" she asked, without having repeated the first part.

Not knowing what he was agreeing to, James nodded, looking again at the ring, "Yes, Sandy, it is ... congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

She beamed, "Thank you, that means a great deal to me," she looked at the files on her desk, "Doctor Francis will see you next, just take a seat."

"Thanks," he said softly. He was about to move to the waiting room when he thought to ask the young nurse another question. "Has he ever ..." he began to ask.

Sandy grinned, reading his thoughts, "Oh yes," she replied, "and then some." She bit her lower lip, "Not as well as ..." she lowered her voice, "well, as someone else I know," she coughed lightly, "but well enough ..." she giggled. "He's learning."

"That's good to hear," James replied. "You deserve to be happy."

"You do too," she whispered, as he walked into the waiting room.

A few minutes later Sandy called him into the back of the Clinic and him ushered into Exam Room 1. She handed him one of the ubiquitous blue gowns that everyone receiving their annual physical was asked to wear and instructed him to strip down to his birthday suit. He groaned, but she only laughed, winking at him as though he was missing some joke.

"Don't worry, James, you're going to love Doc."

"Doc?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, that's just what Doctor Francis likes to be called."

"A bit old fashioned, isn't it?" James replied.

Sandy shrugged, "Perhaps," was all she said before leaving the exam room.

Several minutes after stripping down to his birthday suit and donning the gown, the door swung open again and a strawberry-blonde walked in, "Good afternoon, Captain Joseph, I'm Doctor Francis, Danielle Francis, but you may call me Doc," she smiled at him for a moment, then cocked her head to the side, "or Danielle," she added softly, smiling again as she looked at him wearing the skimpy examination gown.

James sat there for several seconds, staring in awe at one of the most attractive women he'd ever seen. Doctor Danielle Francis, or Doc, was not what he would have described as a beauty queen, but she was, without question, a stunningly attractive woman. She was slightly shorter than he stood, about five-seven, though she was wearing a pair of low heals, so it was difficult to tell for certain. There was no doubt that underneath her clinging sweater was a well-toned body, along with a pair of medium-sized breasts that were crying out for attention.

More than anything, however, were her eyes. Danielle had what James referred to as 'smiling eyes', the type of eyes that captured you from across the room, or the opposite end of an airplane. They were the eyes that you could see once and know, without question, that they had captured your soul. As soon as she had entered the exam room and looked at him, meeting his gaze, she had done just that. They were an emerald green that seemed to possess an internal light, perfectly complimenting everything about her beautiful face.

"Are you alright?" Doctor Francis asked, a look of concern on her coming over her arresting face.

"I'm sorry," James responded, looking uncomfortable, "I ... it's just that ..."

"You weren't expecting a woman?" she nodded, smiling knowingly.

"Please, don't be offended, I didn't mean ..."

Doctor Francis held up her hand, which James noticed was devoid of a wedding ring,

"No, let me explain," she said softly. "I specifically told Sandy not to tell you that I was a woman."

James looked confused, "Why would you do that?"

"Why? Well, let's just say that I have my own reasons," she winked. Then, it seemed, her resolve weakened; she decided to tell him the truth. "All right," she began tentatively, sighing, an action that caused her bosom to heave in a way that made his loins stir again.