âThe doctor will see you now.â Florence the nurseâs voice broke into my thoughts. I looked down at the magazine in my lap, closed it, and replaced it to the table in front of my chair. I looked around, ascertaining that I am the last appointment of the day. She smiled. I followed her through the low swinging door.
It was just a routine visit. Since there is a history of reproductive difficulties with the women in my family, Iâd decided to be proactive.
My regular doctor was on vacation. I wonder whom she got to stand in for her. I hope itâs not a man. No offense to male gynecologists, but the experiences I had with them were not very pleasant. They were too rough, and their examinations hurt. Also, one tried to seduce me while on the table. Pervert.
Florence led me to the last examination room on the left, took my blood pressure, checked a few things, and left me alone. Iâd taken off my blouse, bra, and panties, and slipped on the gown sheâd left. I looked at the plate on the desk: Dr. Lutakowski. Okay. I climbed onto the table and waited.
There was a soft knock on the door, then it opened slowly. I was zoning out again, so I didnât notice anything until I heard the doctor call my name. My head jerked up. Dr. Lutakowski is a
man
. I started to say something, butâŚ
what a man
. He seemed to be about my age (late 20s) and tall with dark, carefully styled hair. He stood behind the door, smiling, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling. His white lab coat covered a toned, lightly muscular physique. I was dumbstruck.
âMiss Thomas, are you all right?â I nodded. He was holding out his hand for me to shake.
âIâm sorry, doctor. Iâm just a little nervous about male gynecologists. Iâm sorry.â
âI understand. I get that often. Donât worry, Iâll be gentle,â he said, winking. He smiled again. I suppose this wonât be
so
bad. He seems friendly enough.
âI wouldnât mind having
his
head between my legs,â I thought. He asked me some questions about my medical history that I answered in robotic fashion, trying to hide my attraction to him. Finally, he stood up.
âThe first thing Iâm going to do is check your breasts for any tumors. If Iâm squeezing too hard, or hurting you in any way, just tell me.â His voice is so soft and even. I get the feeling that he wonât hurt me. He put the clipboard down and walked towards me. I must keep my control.
His hands went to the ribbon that tied behind my neck. I gasped slightly as his fingers brushed my skin. I hope he didnât notice that. He didnât seem like he did. My breasts came into view, my nipples almost betraying my arousal. The roomâs cool air hit them, and they became more erect. I blushed. He looked at them, and then he looked at me.
âWould you like me to turn up the thermostat? It is rather chilly in here.â I shook my head.
âThatâs fine, doctor. I feel fine.â It was all I could to do to keep my voice from shaking. I could have died on that table. I was hopingâsilently pleading--for my nipples to return to normal. Dr. Lutakowski nodded. With a business-like air he palmed my left breast, kneading it, looking for lumps. I savored the feeling and tried to keep my breathing even. Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale. Come on, SarahâŚhe applied the same attention to my right breast. I felt myself becoming very wet. Oh, no. Not here. Not now. Anywhere else, but not here. He hefted me.
âYour breasts are very full, Miss ThomasâŚâ His voice was slightly husky. Looks like heâs enjoying his work.
âPlease, call me Sarah,â I whispered.
âSarahâŚI take it all the women in your family are endowed as you are?â I nodded. I was expecting him to quote some statistic about the size of my breasts and how that corresponded to the risk of breast cancerâŚor something. I just didnât trust myself to speak at this point. He looked down again. My nipples were more erect from his ministrations. âI see youâre still cold. Let me warm you up?â Surely he meant warm the room, turn down the a/c. I shrugged. The next thing I knew, his mouth was on my right nipple, suckling gently and swirling the tongue around the areola. With his other hand, he gently kneaded my left breast, pulling the nipple between his fingers. My head fell back and I pushed myself into his hands. He pushed both of my breasts together, running his tongue between my nipples, then drawing them into his warm mouth. Iâm warm! Iâm warm! My hands tangled in his hair, holding his head to my chest. Please donât stop, Doctor.
He suddenly lifted his head. There was a horrified look on his face. âIâm sorry, Sarah, I justâŚâ He frowned slightly. âYour breasts are just so tempting. I couldnât resist.â
âIâm not mad at you.â I smiled weakly. âMen seem to love them.â