I'm starting to get impatient. It's been half an hour since I signed in at the laptop by the front desk, but I guess you just have to accept the wait when you make a walk-in appointment. This is my first time at the University's Health Services even though I'm a sophomore. I guess I'm usually pretty healthy, but now I've got this rash between my legs. It didn't seem like a big deal when I first noticed it, but that was more than a week ago and now it's starting to freak me out.
"Benjamin?!" I hear a voice call.
I stand up (careful to avoid aggravating my rash) and see a middle-aged nurse standing at the door to the room. We make eye contact and I follow her down the hall to a typical exam room with the counter and the body measure-y thing and the bed thing with the white sheet thing on it.
"Take a seat," the nurse says. I oblige. She sits at a computer and scrolls through something. I assume it's my information. She's got glasses short spiky hair dyed red. I think about how she looks like a mom who makes a lot of jokes when you're hanging out with her son at her house.
"Okay," she says. "Ria will be right with you." She gets up and leaves me to wait some more.
She's kind of old to be a nurse. You'd think she'd be a doctor by now. Wait. I guess that's not how it works. Nurses can't just get promoted to being doctors; they have to go to school for it. That's why there's old nurses and young doctors.
Coincidentally, a young doctor walks into the room. "Hi there. I'm Ria," she says as she walks over to the computer. But I barely hear her, because I'm struck by her appearance. She's got black hair in a bun and such a sweet face. I can't see much of her body with her white doctor's coat on, but I can tell she's wide and narrow in the right places, and when she walks past me the sideview of her butt gets burned in my mind forever.
"Oh- Uh. Hi," I say, several seconds too late.
"A little slow, are we?" she says, smiling.
I laugh a little. "Sorry."
She pulls up my information on the computer. "No need to apologize. I like taking my time too... Do you go by Benjamin or Ben?"
"Ben."
"Okay, Ben. Let's take a look here." The doctor starts scrolling through my answers to the survey I filled out when I signed in earlier. I stare at the floor to avoid staring at her, but I need to take two glances just to confirm how beautiful Ria is. I notice that she has big eyes. She's probably in her late 20s but she could be my age if it weren't for her distinctly adult confidence.
"So, you have a rash?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say.
"Where is it?"
"My- um, between the legs."
"Okay. Are you allergic to any medication?" she asks.
"No."
"On the question about depression you indicated that you are '1 - depressed some of the time.' Is that typical for you or is it just due to your condition?"
I didn't think they would actually look at that. I say, "No, I've never had a rash quite big enough to make me depressed."
She laughs at my joke and it makes me feel like a champion. She says, "Alright. It may be worth it to consider seeking help then. What's your height and weight?"
I've been working out a lot more this past year, but I don't have a scale in my dorm. "I'm 5'10". Not sure about my weight... 160?"
"I can check for you," she says, and I nod. "Take your shoes off and hop on the scale."
I slip off my shoes and socks and get on the scale. The doctor walks over and looks down. "You know, you didn't have to take off your socks," she says.
"Oh." I blush, embarrassed. "My bad."
"Don't worry about it..." she says as she adjusts the little weights.
I build up my courage and say, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," she says.
"How old are you, Ria?"
She laughs. "You know, you're not supposed to ask a woman's age."
"I didn't think that applied for young women."
"Fair enough. I'm twenty-six," she says.
"And you're already a doctor?"
"I got through med school a bit quickly. You're 156 pounds."
I step off of the scale. She says, "Okay, I'm gonna check your vitals. Pop yourself up on the end that bench when you're ready." I do as I'm told.
She does all the regular stuff. Temperature, blood pressure, heart rate. She says my heart rate is a little high, but I know the reason. Having her so close to me, with her hands so close to my body is really making me feel some type of way.
Ria grabs her stethoscope and says, "Take off your shirt please?" Since I started working out, I feel like my upper body is starting to look kind of good, so I'm kind of glad that she gets to see it. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it over to the chair. She walks around behind me and I sit up with perfect posture. I take deep breaths as she puts the stethoscope on different parts of my back. I'm imagining that she's thinking about my muscles, even though she's probably not.
When she puts the stethoscope on my lower-left back, she puts her fingers on my upper-right back to balance herself. I know it's pathetic, but knowing that her skin is touching my skin is driving me wild a little bit. When she puts the stethoscope on my lower-right back, she places her hand firmly on my upper-left back. I can feel her whole hand. Its slight warmth, its slight moisture, and its softness. A lot of images start flashing through my mind. I imagine holding her hand in mine. I imagine this situation with the roles reversed, where I'm checking her breathing and she's topless. And then I imagine boning her in this room and my dick (my real dick, not in my imagination) starts to get hard. I like a fool, but I can't help it.
Ria takes the stethoscope off my back but her hand lingers for, like, a second before she walks back to the computer. She leans over the computer and I'm able to gaze at her ass again. I'm a big fan. It's a real nice ass. My dick is a fan too, and it pushes against my boxer briefs and jeans.
"You can take off your pants now," she says, still entering information into her computer. Oh lord. I stand on the floor and, facing away from Ria, unbutton my jeans and pull them off. I fold the jeans slowly, hoping I can buy enough time to quell my erection before turning around, but it's hopeless. I place the jeans down on the chair and cross my hands in front of my crotch area and turn back around. Ria, who I guess was already looking at me, looks me up and down. "Where's the rash?" she says.
"Um." I use one of my hands to gesture to the region of the rash, which is mostly under my boxer briefs.
"Okay. You can remove your underwear," she says. I blush HARD and my whole body heats up like a sauna. I may be confident in my body but being fully naked is another thing. Especially in front of this gorgeous woman! But I pull off my boxer briefs one leg at a time. When I lower the waistband below my crotch, my erect dick pops up embarrassingly. Now naked, I drop the flimsy underwear on the chair. I notice that Ria has been watching the whole time. I try to cover my dick with my hands, but now it's too stiff and long to really hide it, and of course she notices.
She smiles, looking a little amused. "You don't have to cover yourself." I put my hands at my sides, and my dick is basically pointing at her face. This can't be real. I am butt naked in front of this beautiful (fully clothed) woman that I met a few minutes ago. She continues, smiling sweetly, "It's only human, so there's nothing to be ashamed of. Especially for you."
Especially for me? Is she saying my dick is big? Did she just compliment my dick? If I had an erection before, I think I just got the world's first double erection. I fight the urge to cover myself as Ria takes two steps closer to me. She's looking in my eyes and I am frozen in time. More images rush through my head. In my mind, I see her naked hips, and her vagina. And as much as I would rather all my thoughts were pure, I imagine what my dick would feel like inside her. "You can go lay down on the table," she says.
I hop on the table and lie back, with my dick pointing straight up. "Spread your legs slightly," she says. I do so, and now she's looking right in my naughty region. This is really such a ridiculous situation. Maybe one day I'll remember this and laugh about it, but for the time being I'm just embarrassed.
"Alright. You can turn over now." As the doctor says this, she puts her fingers lightly on my left hip, sort of to help guide me in turning to the right. But I guess all my blood is in my dick instead of my brain, so I turn over to the left instead of the right and my dick slaps her hand, actually kind of hard.
"Ow," she says.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," I say, now in push-up position because I'm not sure how to lay down on my stomach without breaking my dick in half.
She laughs, "No, no, it's fine. It wasn't very hard. That is to say, it didn't HIT me very hard." She giggles at her own joke. I fake a laugh but I'm too embarrassed to find it funny. I'm kind of shocked that she has a sense of humor about it. Still struggling with how to lay down, I decide to use one hand to press my dick up against my stomach as I lie down. Ria laughs at this too and continues to examine my rash.
Unable to see what's going on behind me, my imagination goes on a field day. My dick, squeezed between my body and the table, is starting to get wet. I think about my situation. I'm, like, on the verge of orgasm in a goddamn doctor's office. What the fuck would the doctor think if I ejaculated while she was innocently checking my rash? I remember how she laughed at me when I tried to lay down. She's obviously not into me. She probably thinks of me as some kind of silly little kid who can't control his penis at the sight of a pretty woman such as herself.
I feel really ashamed and embarrassed, and, although my erection sticks around, thankfully I don't blow my load or anything.
I get up when Ria tells me I can get dressed. As I'm putting on my clothes, I notice that I left a little wet spot where the end of my dick had been, and I try not to think about Ria noticing it later.
She types something into her computer and says, "So, luckily, the rash seems to be pretty typical. It won't hurt you, but it would do you good to try some lotion." I sat down and she recommended lotion brands. After all that ordeal it's just a regular rash. I nod as she talks but I'm staring and the floor.
"But," she continues, "just in case it isn't what I think it is, I want you to schedule a follow-up appointment for one week from now so I can give it a second look and see if it's gotten any better." I nod. "Okay?" she says.
"Yep. Okay," I say sheepishly.
"Great. I'll see you in one week, Ben," she says.
