A visit to the gynecologist is not most women's idea of a great time. For some of my friends, those trips are a source of anxiety and fear. Donning a paper dress and being poked and prodded with various instruments can be a real bummer - unless the man doing the poking and prodding is absolutely gorgeous. I'm lucky enough to have such a doctor.
I've always been a sucker for Italian men, and he's the epitome of the type: thick black hair, deep brown eyes, athletic body. My first gynecologist, a sweet old woman who'd taken care of me since I hit puberty, retired two years ago. She recommended that I transfer my care to Dr. Santino, a man who had worked under her. From my first visit, I found myself unable to stop thinking about what it would be like for him to handle parts of me with the delicacy with which he held his stethoscope against my chest. He asked me questions while reviewing my charts, and listened to me patiently, his eyes locking with mine for so long it made me shudder. I wanted to believe that he felt it, too - that he was as drawn to me as I was to him - but to him I was probably just another patient. Or so I thought...
"That's a lovely dress," was the first thing he said to me that day. I shrugged off the compliment with some deprecating remark ("This old thing?"), even though I'd spent all weekend searching the malls for the perfect outfit for seduction. The dress I settled on was a clingy affair, high cut here and low cut there. Though I knew he'd notice (he was always quick and generous with the compliments), I didn't expect his eyes to slide down me the way they did. As I turned to take a seat on the examination table, I could see his reflection in the mirror over the sink as he stared lustily at my ass and legs. I flushed, and I could feel myself moistening. Just that one look from him would have been enough to satisfy me. Then he handed me the paper gown and said, "Cathy [his nurse] had to leave early on personal business. If you like, we can postpone the examination..."
"Oh, no. That's okay - I took time off work to be here, and I'd rather get it all over with." I laughed, then smiled teasingly. He smiled shyly; now it was his turn to blush...
He returned to the room armed with a tray of swabs and vials and looking unbearably sexy in his white coat. My pulse quickened when his hands slid beneath the paper gown and found first on breast, then the other. It was the best breast exam a doctor has ever given me; he cupped them, then squeezed gently yet firmly, pulling lightly at my hard nipples as I suppressed a moan.
Asking me to lay down, he lifted the gown over my stomach and rubbed my torso in search of abnormalities. ("Nothing wrong here", he said huskily.) Then he sat at the end of the table and took first my left then my right foot in his hands, caressing each gently, then softly placing it into a stirrup. I was so aroused I thought I would faint. I felt him place a finger in me. "Does this hurt?" he inquired, a teasing quality to his voice. With the gown over my knees, I couldn't see his face at all and had no idea of what he had planned.
"Oh, not at all," I answered with just enough flirtation in my voice to keep him guessing.