When I was 19 (back in '79), my older sister (age 32) was visiting on a Sunday and my parents were gone shopping. I sat down on a wooden seat and managed to get a huge splinter lodged in my left buttcheek.
I tried to remove it myself, but I couldn't get it out. I was in a lot of pain, but I really didn't want to my sister to remove it for me. Eventually I had to give in and let her remove it. But, I made her promise that she would only look at the splinter and nothing else.
I always had a contentious relationship with my sister and I could tell she was enjoying my predicament. But, since she did promise not to peek at anything else, I gave in and lowered my pants and underwear so that she could remove my splinter.
I just stood there staring off into space while she was working on it and hoping she'd hurry up. At some point, I realized I didn't feel anything else going on back there and decided to look down and see what was happening. To my horror, she was looking at my sex organs and stifling a giggle. I pulled my pants up and ran from the room while she was laughing at me. Over the years, she reminded me of that incident many times.
I mentioned this incident to a female friend of mine ("Jane," I'll call her). She related a similar experience that she had.
When she was about 20, she had an older brother who had pulled a groin muscle and was in a lot of pain. Their mom was a nurse and at work at the time it happened. He called her to ask what to do about it. She said to take some of the "liquid heat" kind of muscle pain reliever and apply it to the strained muscle. She warned him, though, not to get any on his genital area.
In spite of the fact that he was very modest, he asked his sister to put some of the stuff on for him. He was wearing briefs and he could maneuver in such a way that she wouldn't see anything. He just didn't trust himself to put the stuff on and not make a mistake with it.
Apparently he didn't trust Jane too much, either, because when she was applying the stuff he accidentally bumped her hand that was holding the bottle. Jane spilled so much of it on him that his underwear was saturated with it. He was immediately in pain and, modest or not, he yanked off his tighty-whities and was hopping around the room howling.
She started laughing when she saw this. "I couldn't help it," she said. "He was hopping up and down and his little penis was flopping around all over the place!"
He was blistered pretty badly and his mom had to come home from work and take him to the ER. In fact, it was bad enough that on a daily basis for the next week he had to take his pants down and let his mom doctor his blisters. Jane told me that she was not allowed to tease him in any way about his problem or that his mom had to doctor his genital area every day. She said her mom told her that she didn't know who was more embarrassed: her or him.
