I Began to Get a Little Aroused

I began to get a little aroused as soon as I found myself outside her office. I knew it had been a while since any sort of sex, and that this had been coming (why should I lie? I had on a few occasions, when finding myself with a quiet moment, when thoughts that were leading me on, stopped, not without doing anything, not without undressing, say, not without standing in front of the mirror, or laying back on my bed, not without feeling myself become aroused, letting myself, savouring the low simmer of erotic excitement. And getting hard. Seeing myself become erect, holding myself, gripping, touching myself, getting so far, but no further. I couldn't kid myself this wasn't because I knew this was coming, I knew with even a small measure of sexual energy, well).

There was something about examinations, about being looked at, however professionally, however devoid of personal attraction or interest, there was something about being looked at that had always excited me, not to the point of it being a thing, no, not a fetish, but at some level of being checked out, assessed, looked at. There was a sweet sort of nervousness. Perhaps also to do with the power imbalance, the disparity of knowledge, of control. And I knew this was going to be a routine, if thorough exam, for the visa I was applying for. I knew I was in reasonable health. I wasn't here because I was ill.

Either way, I was very slightly aroused just waiting, which I wanted, engineered really, I suppose I was hoping for that pleasant buzz of excitement throughout, no more.

I saw the red light come on. I stood up and opened the door.

I did notice at once how pretty she was. Dark hair, cut short, cropped really, almost my height, blue eyes, long slim legs, a black skirt, and a grey roll neck sweater. I assumed cashmere. I couldn't help notice it showing off the high swell of her breasts. My eyes immediately, for a second, dropped to her chest, to the merest hint of pointing nipples. I smiled up at her, sensing my penis pulse, or not even, sensing the quickest tingling of circulation.

"Hello, would you like to come in?"

"Yes, yeah, hello."

"And you are here for a full check up for a visa right?"

"That's it, yep."

She looked at her computer screen, through a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. She wasn't wearing a white coat. Was this good? I guessed she was older than me, ten, fifteen years. I watched, as she scrolled and clicked, I watched, glancing. She was quite fabulous suddenly, those hands, those lips. I felt aroused by her age (by everything really), she licked her lips, or not even, I saw the tip of her moist pink tongue dart out and touch the outer edge of her mouth. I imagined her licking the end of her husband's penis (did she have one? I looked for a ring, was there one? What finger was it again?), I imagined her sitting on her office chair, being visited, unzipping her husband, pushing down his trousers, his underwear, reaching in and pulling out his half hard, half soft prick, bending and taking it in her soft mouth, licking, kissing the smooth tip of his swelling member.

"Okay then, if you could strip down to your underwear, behind that screen, then sit on this table?"

"Sure. Yep"

I stood behind the screen, which seemed an odd piece of decorum, my near nakedness would be fine, but not the act of me undressing. This was too sexual perhaps, too much like watching someone strip, which of course you would. I didn't rebel against it. I undid my boots and stepped out of them, pulled my socks off, dropped my jacket on the chair behind me, undid my shirt and removed this, felt a wash of cool air over my chest. And then found myself waiting. I undid my trouser buttons, unzipped them and let them fall to the floor, folded them onto the chair. Glanced down at myself. At the tight grey cotton of my briefs, the curves and bulges my genitals made against the thin material.

The image of the doctor's breasts drifted into my mind, her mouth, her hands, gipping - how many? I wondered how many soft and hard cocks she had touched, she had felt harden in his grip, stroking with expert fingers -- an older lover's stiff prick, laying him flat, undoing, unzipping, pulling his trousers and underwear off, letting his erection bounce up, taking him, stroking, holding the end of his hard penis to her moist eager pussy, drawing him inside her, lowering her tight quim along the length of his rigid dick. A young lover's , her first, kissing, feeling him stiffen against her belly, reaching down, reaching in to this young man's trousers and touching his hot hard prick, touching a boy's penis for the first time.

I stepped out from behind the curtain.

"Right. Do you want to sit here."

I felt my pleasant nerves return as I sat and waited for her. She stood up from her desk and stepped towards me, a blood pressure band and stethoscope in her hand. She slipped the first onto my arm and inflated the ring. I felt the pressure tighten around my bicep as I felt her fingers on my wrist. Her touch was cool and firm, and involved her stepping quite close to me, close enough that I couldn't help but breathe in her scent, a delicate mix of moisturiser, body wash, skin and shampoo. She smelled good. My stomach took a quick dip at this combination of sensual involvements. She pumped and pressed. After a minute or so she loosened the arm band and slid it from me.

"Well, you're one-twenty over eighty, this is a tiny bit high, for someone your age. Not to worry about. Perhaps you are a little nervouse. I am just going to listen to your breathing now. When I say if you could take some deep breaths."

"Sure."

I felt her move around to my back, then felt the cold metal of the stethoscope being held onto my skin. Then her hand touch me. She asked me to take my deep breath. I did. Three times more. Each time feeling the physical connection between her exam and my penis. Just, slightly, but pleasurable. I glanced down. Hoping the slight pleasure would not be noticeable. It wasn't. I could tell the bulge of my penis was bigger, a little, but no-one else, she wouldn't be able to tell.

"Okay. A few questions then."

"Of course."

"Do you drink alcohol?"

"Yes"

"How many units a week?"

"Oh, um, it varies I suppose. At least twenty I think."

"Smoke?"

"Yes, actually."

"Right, how many per day?"

"Oh, somewhere between twenty and thirty."

"Well, that's not good. Have you thought about stopping."

"Um, well, I have thought about it sure."

"Never tried?"

"I'll stop, I think, I mean I will, when I get fed up of it."

"Hmm. what about other drugs?"

"Nope, uh, I mean, very infrequently."

"Right. What though?"

"Well, cannabis I suppose, I mean, a few, a fair amount of different ones, but not for ages, probably about a year or so, and even then not often, two or three times a year maybe."

"Sure, so, cocaine? Ecstasy? Amphetamine?"

"Uh, yes, they're the ones"

"Right, I'll just listen to your heartbeat now"

She bent her head to mine, pressed the stethoscope to the centre of my chest. I felt her breath on my bare shoulder as she listened to my heart, I think of her breath all over her partner, in his ear, on his neck, against his mouth, teasing the tip of his now hard cock. I think of her kissing his tight scrotum, licking his large heavy balls and blowing cool air over them. I imagine her licking the solid length of his huge prick, too fat for her fingers, inch after inch of hot hard rigid stem, I think of her running her tongue over the root of his organ, kissing his hot humid seam. My penis trembled a little more. I have visions of her taking his swollen slippery tip in her mouth, sliding her soft wet lips over his tender glans, letting him come, letting him fill her mouth with his hot seed, her younger self, reaching, holding her first boyfriend's stiff penis, undoing him, looking, seeing a guy's thing, seeing it, feeling it grow in her hand, seeing it, feeling it get hard, get thick and long, and bending down to it, tasting him, taking her first boyfriend's stiff cock in her mouth.

I need to stop this. Fuck.

"okay, that sounds nice and healthy. Ears and eyes now."

"Do you need me to move?"

"No, you stay sat there."

She moved to the side of me, I felt her touching my ear, her breath closer, warmer on my neck, the plastic nozzle of the octoscope pushing into me in a small act of penetration. She finished and walked around to the other side of me, repeating the process on my left side. I looked down at my lap again, glad I had worn a pair of tighter briefs, not my normal and looser boxer shorts.

"Okay, now I need you to look straight ahead, I'll shine this light into your eye, if you could keep your eye open"

"Yep, no bother."

And then she was almost within the distance of a kiss as she shone a penlight first into my right, then left eye, her left hand just grazing my shoulder to keep me steady.

"Right, brilliant. Now before I measure your height and weight if you could take down your underwear."

"Oh, um"

"I need to complete a testicular exam and look at your penis."

"Oh"

I sensed another tortuous wave of arousal wash over me. My perverted nature now rising up.

"If that's okay? Completey standard."

"Sure, of course."

I hesitated, wondering whether to stand up, or wriggle out of them whilst sat down. My penis now felt half erect. I looked. No, come on, barely anything. Okay. All okay. I stood, she stepped back, waiting, and, I could help but notice, watching, was this standard?

Of course. Completely.

I hooked my thumbs into the elasticated waistband of my briefs, pulled them down along my thighs and without really thinking stepped out of them. My penis sprang free, I felt the air brush over it, my scrotum was high and tight, but my penis had an unmistakeable if still only slight bounce to it as it was released from the constricts of my underwear. I looked down again, quickly, I knew I had become slightly hard, I knew my cock was bigger than it's normal soft size, not enough to look stiff, not obviously aroused, just, if you like, as if I had a quite large penis, which I didn't really, not when it was soft anyway, but it did look that way now, thick and long, my foreskin covering a large round tip, it hung over my balls, straighter, heavier than normal.

"Okay, if you could sit back down, I need to feel your testicles, okay?"

"Sure. Fine."

Though this wasn't fine, not at all, the last thing I needed was someone to touch my cock. I felt her fingers on me, on my flaccid organ, holding it to push it away from my scrotum, her fingers were smooth and cool, knowing, she moved her other hand around touched my testicles, her fingers still holding the soft shaft of my penis out of the way. I felt her fingers, not bothering to put latex gloves on (was this normal? Was this standard?), I felt nothing but her fingers, one set stretching my tightened skin as she manipulated and examined my left ball. She touched, she held and rubbed, as gently as I would have, more so probably, she circled my testicle with her fingers, her cool and expert fingers. Then the other one, one hand on my tender pouch, the other still holding my penis away from her. She moved this hand, infinitesimally, I felt a ripple of pressure over my cock. And felt a corresponding burst of pleasure and arousal, fuck. I was getting hard. As she touched me, during an exam, fuck.

I looked, she was betraying no sign of there being anything amiss, but I could feel myself stiffen, she had to be able to feel, she had to be able to tell I was getting hard as she touched me, certainly as soon as she stopped, as soon as she let go this would be obvious to both of us, that it would become blatantly obvious I had got an erection. Should I apologise now? Could I will it away? For all my fantacising about something like this happening I really didn't want this to be happening. I felt her fingers, both hands, one still manouevering my balls, the other now redundantly holding my thickening member out of the way. The knowledge I am getting visibly aroused of course makes it worse, that I shouldn't be so turned on, that it is so inappropriate for me to get an erection makes it perversely delicious that my cock feels so full, fuck though, fuck.

She let go.

And I saw my penis sway forward and remain in an upright position. I look down. The doctor looks. I look. My penis is sticking straight up in front of me, fuck, I look away, I can feel it quiver, I look again, it is completely hard, with no chance or pretending otherwise, my cock is fully erect, in a doctor's office, shit, it quivers as it sticks up from my groin, straight, unequivocally erect, and still getting bigger, I know this, I see it throb and tremble as it continues to engorge, as it gets thicker, and longer, it feels utterly and, despite myself, wonderfully hard. I look at myself, at her looking at my stiff penis, now completely erect, at my thick smooth prick, fuck, it looks huge, given I should be soft, that it should be hanging soft and small over my tight balls, it is rearing up between us, long, wide, I know (I wish I could be blasé, I wish I didn't care, but I know, all men know) it is about eight inches or so, my swollen tip obscured by soft foreskin, fuck, fuck, I look suddenly obscene, long, thick and long and rising vertically up past my belly button.

I say nothing. She says nothing. We ignore it. She carries on as if her patient, already naked, has not become obviously aroused, as if he does not have an erection, as if his cock is not utterly fucking rigid.

"I just need to pull your foreskin back, if that's okay, just to look at your glans."

"Right, really?"

"Really. Yes. I will have to touch your penis, okay, I will pull back your foreskin."

Fuck. I watch her reach over to my aching member and, still with her bare hands, still with neither of us acknowledging she is about to touch my erect penis. I see her grip my stiff shaft and pull my foreskin back, in a single masturbatory motion exposing my darker glans, the pursed slit of my urethra. A tiny pearl of fluid is squeezed out and glistens in the artificial light. She looks at my smooth soft tip.

"Fine, all good there. Now If I could get you to step over to this measuring board."

And of course I should have pulled my underwear back on, but I didn't. It would be easy to say "for some reason", or claim forgetfulness, the terrible truth is that I was aroused, the moment was exciting, despite it being one sidedly so, I didn't want to end it. I stood, my penis sticking out, sticking up, my balls still high and heavy, and walked to where she had motioned, to the opposite wall, where she had both a weighing scales and a height scale. I stepped and turned back to face her. Noticing her downward glance. She looks, I see an eyebrow raise, she seems to linger. Does she?

"Oh, well, okay, I thought you might put your underwear on, no matter, this is fine, this won't take a second, stay there, it's fine"

I stay where I am, utterly naked and utterly aroused. More so with each dangerous second of this small game one of us at least is playing, whilst pretending not to. She steps to me, positions me on the wooden board, in front of me, my penis separating us, rigid, long and stiff. I feel a wooden strip pressing onto the top of my head.

"Okay, now if you could step onto the scales"

I do so. Which causes me to become about a foot taller, which causes my stiff cock to get a foot closer to her chest, and her hands, as she fiddles with the weights, creates the correct balance, she knocks it as she moves them up and down. I see my prick swing and wobble.

"Right, we're done. All fine."

"Thanks, and, again, I'm really sorry, I mean, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Well, uh..."

I look down at my groin, at the trembling glistening spur still sticking up between us. she still says nothing.

"I'm sorry for this."

"For this?"

"I'm sorry, I mean..." She is making me say it, use the words, be explicit.

"I'm sorry I have an erection."

"Yes, well, I suppose you should not have to apologise for becoming erect, I should be flattered perhaps, though perhaps not, perhaps you are the sort of man whose penis becomes stiff in this situation."

"Uh, well, I suppose I must be."

"Hmm, though this may be more for a psychological exam, not a physical one. I am fully clothed, you are not, you are naked, in this situation, and you have an erect penis."

"Yes, sorry."

"Anyway, perhaps I should leave you, I will give you a minute."

"Oh, yes, yeah, thank you."

She leaves the office.

And I stand, without moving. I stand in front of the floor length mirror to the side of the examining table, looking at my still nude body, my still stiff and long prick, the dark flash of my pubic hair, the round pouch of my scrotum. I think of how long she is likely to be gone, did she mean anything? Was there something in this at all? Seriously? I can't do this, I have to get dressed. I look at myself, and imagine her looking, staring ay my naked body, my exposed and erect penis. I am desperate to touch myself, here, in her office, I am weak with arousal. I can't. I look at myself again, my bare skin, the smooth curve of my ass, the bending hot tine of my rigid penis. Fuck. My arousal trumps all thoughts of risk. I grip myself hard, start to rub my skin up and down over my shaft, rubbing and squeezing tight, stimulating my sensitive tip as I move my foreskin up and over. I sense my climax is not far away, I hear the wet slap of skin moving over my pre-cum covered tip, I hear my balls thump against my thighs, am I really doing this? Wanking in a doctor's offce? Ready to ejaculate over her carpeted floor? Fuck, I don't care, I'll be quick, I'll mop it up, I look at the mirror, at the image of myself, naked, smooth and pale, my hand stroking my thick cock, a solid centre of dark flesh and hair. I pull my foreskin back and stroke the slick soft end of my prick, fuck. The door opens. I turn, frozen with fear and arousal. The doctor walks back in. I stop and stare at her with wide and shameful eyes.

"Oh really."

"God, sorry, I sort of though you left so I could -"

"- do this?"

"Well, I thought you thought I might need to get rid of this."

"I see. Well then."

"Sorry, I'll get dressed."

"As you please."

She is still standing in front of me, looking, without shame, down, at my penis, which I am now not holding, which has lost some of its stiffness, so which points now more outward, less up, with a slick and shiny and still exposed helmet. She says nothing. I find myself waiting, looking at her, she takes a step back, so she is leaning, just barely, but against her door. Then she looks down again, slowly, deliberately. Fuck. She looks directly at my groin, at my cock. I feel it stiffen again under her gaze. She looks and I feel my penis bounce and pulse upwards as if caressed by her eyes. She continues to stare. I stand, naked, and feel myself getting completely and thrillingly hard.

"You got an erection when I was examining you, and instead of getting dressed, you decided to masturbate in my office."

"Well, I mean."

"Until you had an orgasm I suppose?"

"Uh."

"Until you ejaculated over my clean carpet."

"Sorry, I just got, I mean..."

"Yes? What?"

"And even now, with me back in the room, you are still not getting dressed, you remain naked, and your cock is still fully erect."

My penis aches at her usage, at her quick shift to a more carnal vernacular.

"Sorry."

"Hmm, sorry for what? For becoming erect? For beginning to stroke your hard cock in my office?"

"Yes. Both."

My voice is hoarse, ragged.

"Or for still not getting dressed. For still being aroused? You are aren't you? Aroused? By me?"

"Yes."