Part of the Procedure?

{I haven't been writing much lately, for one thing my wife Debra is gone off to school so all week, and sometimes two in a row I am here at home by myself.

I guess I don't like it all that much, but we do what we have to.

For some reason with an empty house I find myself spending more time down at the jetty fishing than sitting around writing.

Sometimes I even catch one the fucking Sea Lions missed. I used to catch a half dozen nice ones each trip, now it's just one, maybe two, sometimes even skunked. Way our world is getting.

For sex? I suppose I could do like most people do, and masturbate. But I don't, way back I did but not any more. I got used to my Debs being around and she often does that for me which with her being gone most of the time now, it's tough.

I haven't even had Nikola, our massage therapist over, with Debs gone that doesn't seem right somehow.

So I have been toughing it out, it was only a year, just a few months to go now.

Anyway, this short little story is about one more crazy incident in my life, not all that erotic I don't think.}

+++

My wife Debs is off at school. Hard to fathom since she is 59 now, but old Doc Barker passed away and the clinic Debra works at as a Registered Nurse Practioner needs a Doctor on staff.

Some law I guess, and with all of the changes in the medical system lately, finding and keeping a Physician on staff is not exactly easy. Every other clinic spends most of their time trying to hire the other clinic's Doctors, way it is in the modern world.

My Debra really is close to being a Doctor, she became a certified Nurse Practioner years ago and was working on her PHD. Then the job came open at our local clinic and since she owned a home here, she grabbed the position as a Registered Nurse and didn't quite finish the graduate portion.

Of course becoming a Physician meant she would probably end up employed lord knows where and her roots were right here on the Oregon coast.

Debs figured that was a heck of a good deal, living in her family home, which was all paid for, and working just 10 blocks away?

She more or less ran the local clinic anyway after just a couple of years, everyone who works there is a nurse except for old Doc Barker who was mostly a figure head.

All he ever did was sign documents that required a full fledged Doctor, and sometimes try to horn in on a few medical procedures if the patient was young, cute, and female.

Everyone there was onto that, of course.

The nurses were all smart enough to never leave the 85 year old coot alone with anyone, so it all worked.

Then they found him in his chair, his half smoked cigar sitting in his ash tray, a shot of Wild Turkey in a glass on his desk.

Nice and peaceful, he just sat down and went to sleep. Never woke up, it's the way we all want to go, to be honest.

After five Doctors came and went in the space of maybe a year and a half, the company asked Debra to go finish her schooling, they would pay for it? Not a bad deal at all, so she took them up on it.

Kind of a giant raise, too, from her roughly $95K per year to a tad over 200K? Let's just say it didn't take a hell of a lot of thinking.

Of course the school is only 1800 miles away?

Which means I get to see my wife maybe twice a month, and it's back to being all alone a good portion of the time. I did that for 10 long years before I met Debs, but this was only going to be a bit over a year, hell, I could handle that.

OK. That pretty much brings us up to date.

+++

One morning I was in the bathroom doing my business, I am a pretty healthy old guy for being 72.

I thought so anyway.

Until I looked down, it appeared I passed about a pint of blood??

Things like that can scare the shit out of...well, you know.

Not good, so I went to the clinic to be checked. I didn't call Debs, no reason to get her all upset until I knew for sure what was going on.

Jennifer checked me out, no big deal there since she has had a finger up my rump at least a half dozen times.

Jennifer is my own Nurse, some silly rule says it can't be my perfectly good medical professional I have at home.

Yep, same Jennifer that grabbed me way back and got that sperm sample the first nurse I had named Olivia ordered. So we are pretty used to each other, nice because we can talk about anything as easily as I can with my Debs.

"Danny, we see so many bleeding cases with older males that I think it probably nothing but I need to send you to Portland to have them check you out and make sure, OK?" She told me.

Just what I wanted to do, but she made the appointment for me. Great, a 340 mile round trip.

Three days later I was on the freeway driving Debra's nice Camaro. I could have taken my big Dodge turbo but it's a 170 mile drive one way and I need to tow a Shell station along behind in my own rig.

Debs was back East and she flies back and forth so no problem there using her car. Plus it is surprisingly comfortable, plenty of room even for my six foot frame.

I got to the hospital right on time, the place was fairly efficient. I only sat there 10 minutes past my appointment time.

Inside, this painfully young Doctor named Martins, ( I think) asked me a bunch of questions. Looking for some sign or clue I guess, the truth is I felt just fine, and I bled the one time and nothing after that.

An older nurse came in and had me put on one of those silly gowns that leave a person bareassed, you know the kind I mean, pretend modesty?

Then they put me in this big machine for about 5 minutes, it looked like something the might use to teleport things off to Mars. Two nurses running that, I was thinking they had one hell of a good job. Stick a person in, push a button, pull the person out, next patient.

In no time I was back in the little office.

Hell, I knew what was coming since they had given me the two gallons of lime flavored battery acid the day before, and I got to spend most of the evening on a toilet getting myself stripped out.

Still no more blood though, trust me, I looked.

Then in comes this tiny little black nurse.

I mean, TINY! Maybe 4'8" tall, she looked like one of those little dolls we see in the toy department at Walmart.

Cute as a bug's ear too, perfect sized bumps in the front of her rather modest white smock.

"Please come with me, sir." She asked, nice bright smile on her face.

OK. Heck, I would have followed her anywhere. I was enjoying watching her fanny twitch while walking down the hall so much I almost forgot about my bare ass hanging out.

People running around everywhere, ignoring me, I guess they are used to seeing old men with their butts bare? I was trying my best to hold the back side of the silly gown shut with one hand and not having much success at that.

She put me in a little room, all there was were two chairs and an examination table with the usual white paper over it. There was some machine that looked like a small crane, and a TV screen.

"Hop up on the table, sir." She asked, then she sat down right in front of me on a little roller stool, asked me for my name and my birth date. They do that now to keep better track so some poor guy with an ingrown toenail doesn't end up getting his kidney removed.

"The Doctor will be in to do the procedure shortly, I just need to ask you some questions."

"OK." I was sitting on the exam table with my hands trying to fold the too damned short gown down between my legs and this overly short and overly cute nurse was sitting right in front of me where I was reasonably sure she had a pretty good view of my balls.

Plus my dick which by then was demonstrating interest because I had just followed this cute thing down the hallway watching her fanny wiggle?

Me with no wife for nearly two full weeks, OK, so I am 72 but I am used to about twice a week and sometimes three and let's just say I was behind my schedule.

So here I was, horny as hell, barely covered, a white haired 72 year old coot looking at a sweet young thing, my dick doing it's own thing?

So sure as hell I am going to come off as one perverted old bastard, right?

"The Doctor wants me to make sure you won't have any...issues...that might interfere with the procedure." She was still smiling.

"Issues?" I admit that confused me.

"Doctor Martins wants me to..make sure you don't react during the procedure, it can cause complications." She actually blushed, delightful.

Let me tell you, a cute little black nurse blushing was a fun thing to see.

I couldn't help it, I laughed. I mean, come on. I might react to my Debs sticking her finger back there but some guy with a crowbar and camera on it just does not do a thing for me.

React? No way in hell am I going to react to that. React with what? Clamp down maybe, hop off the table and take a swipe at him, hell, it was just a colonoscopy.

"I am not sure what you mean by that?" I asked her, honestly puzzled.

"You know, have a..male response, an...erection?" She was blushing again.

"OH! I don't know, I doubt that will be a problem, I'm not...?" Lord, did she think I was gay or something?

Then it hit me. OK, sometimes I am a bit dense.

"It's been awhile, what do you want me to do?" I asked.

"I can...give you some magazines...if you need them?" She said.

"Magazines? You mean, you want me to...masturbate?" I asked her.

"Well..unless that is difficult for you, if so then I can..assist."

I guess I stared at her for several long seconds.

"Assist?" Did I hear that right? Did she mean what it sounded like she meant?

+++

Now back at our clinic down at the coast, one of the older nurses came in and got a sample after I tried and tried on my own without success. I was 65 back then, Medicare physical stuff. I was probably best described as out of shape, old, and putting in my time before dying. Beating off into a little cup was not what I would call an erotic experience, I was trying but the dang thing wasn't cooperating one bit.

All I could think of back then was in all of the times I had ever been to see a Doctor in my entire life, not once had any of them asked me to beat off into a cup.

Then magazines with photos of completely naked females with their legs spread? That just does not do it for me, never has. Now if my Debra comes into the bedroom and does things like plop down on the bed to clip her toenails. Nude?

Oh, yeah!

Some gal giving me a tittie peek like happened in the Walmart parking lot a year or so ago?

Oh yeah!

That DOES do it for me, maybe I am weird I guess.

I guess I wasted about 15-20 minutes of their valuable time that day at the clinic, because suddenly in comes nurse Jennifer, latex gloves on, ready for action.

Took her about 30 seconds too, no nonsense about it at all, that one I never forgot.

Some people will claim that this kind of stuff NEVER happens in the medical field, I will be the one to say it does too, since that did happen.

If you knew my Debra, you would understand.

"We have to do SOMETHING or you old farts will sit home and die before you will come to see us." Now I bet I have heard my Debra say that at least two dozen times.

Which means old coots get their stuff checked out fairly regularly down at Debra's clinic, just trying to keep everything working and making their lives better.

They don't actually do anything out of line, not really, but most men do get their junk checked out, for lumps and bumps and to see if things work OK.

The truth is that it all works very well, way better than most clinics.

+++

"I guess it might be best if you maybe...assisted....?" I finally grinned broadly at her. Hell, now I was a bit pink cheeked myself so I said that trying to be funny.

"OK." She reached over and got two clear latex gloves, tugged them on. I noticed that her tiny little hands didn't really fill the gloves.

Holy smokes, it looked like she was serious. Was this cute nurse really going to whack me off right here in a hospital as part of a medical procedure?

Then she picked up a small bottle of lotion, rubbed some on her hands and reached under the hem of the gown.

I guess I jumped a bit at her first touch.

"Sorry, my hands are a little cold." She said.

That wasn't it but I didn't say anything.

At first her hands were under the gown as she rubbed what was now a rather nicely full blown erection, then she tugged the gown up and looked.

"It does look nice, well formed. It's very firm for a mature men. I really like it not having any hair on it." She said, her expression was one of fascination.

(Yes, Debra and I both get waxed, she doesn't like hair in her teeth. I told her once she was supposed to suck, not chew, but I ended up in a waxing parlor anyway. I wrote that story, it's on this website someplace.)

With this pretty young black lady it was like she was talking about the weather or something. Yet she was talking about my stuff, while using two hands to masturbate me? Then she reached down and stroked my testicles, dang that felt good.

"How am I doing?" She asked me.

Damn, she was doing every bit as good as my wife Debra can do and Debs is an expert!

Once again I didn't answer, I mean, suggest something a person is supposed to say in a situation like this?

Here is a nearly naked old man, dick sticking about straight up, cute black nurse that I had no idea even what her name was, busily rubbing the old pecker?

She was using both hands in a strange manner that in my many long years no one had ever done to me.

Now most women grab hold and run their hand up and down, some kind of instinct that does not need to be taught although quite a few could use some pointers.

(Just now as I write this it flashed into my mind having a tiny little Vietnamese woman do a hand job back in about 1965 or 66, most of us on leave went that way because if you stuck it inside one of those women, a few days later a medic would be sticking something in our asses. Sure, we had condoms but you know how government is, cheap stuff. The damn things loved to break as lots of the guys found out.

That tiny little woman gripped my shaft with one hand and rubbed the end of it with the other palm, that was different. She knew about men also, it's not the shaft that gets it off, it's right out there on the end.)

This little woman was rolling her hands back and forth with her palms, fingers stuck straight out? My foreskin was now rolled back and she was right on the knob. Every now and then she would slide her hands all the way down and back up, doing that odd rolling it between her palms. Then she would grip the shaft for a few seconds and reach out with the other hand, stroking my testicles, then right back to that rolling technique.

It took me a moment to realize that she had to because her hands were so small her fingers would barely reach all the way around?

Now I am perhaps a bit bigger than average in that respect, although I am far from huge. She was looking down at me, her face mildly screwed up, her tongue sticking out ever so slightly.

It really did look hilarious, I managed to stifle a laugh. Oh, all right, I didn't quite manage to stifle that laugh. Kind of a snicker, I guess.

"Is this OK?" She asked me again, looking up.

OK? Is it OK? Hell, it was great, but I didn't answer because just about then I let go. I mean, like POW, it shoots out all over her forearm. 2nd surge splashes on her smock.

Bit of a mess, I guess she wasn't quite ready since that was rather quick.

"Oops." She says, trying to control things with a wad of tissue she reached quickly for.

Then she giggled, big broad grin on her face.

Now many women will let go the instant a man starts to ejaculate, some I guess go overly sensitive? But I don't and she seemed to sense that because she increased the speed with one hand now and tightened her grip which felt fantastic.

Finally after milking me out onto the wad of tissue she came up with, she stood up and dropped that into a nearby waste basket.

She turned back to me and smiled. I was sitting on the edge of the table, leaned back with my arms behind me for support, gown hiked up to my waist. The old dick still pointed almost straight up.

"There. That should...." Then she looked down.

"Oh! You are still...?" I realized that yes, I was still erect. Now sometimes, rarely I concede, I can manage to get right back up again. A goodly part of that is having a wife like my Debra, lord is she good at getting about everything out of me that I have to give.

But this completely and totally unexpected situation was HOT! Yep, had me going.

"I guess I had better....Wow, you are certainly virile?" The woman sat back down, reached over and got another pair of gloves and went right back to it.

In the middle of that there was a light tapping on the door, she called out that she needed a few more minutes and whoever it was left.

That sort of caused me to soften up a bit, last thing I wanted was the Doctor to burst in right at that moment. But she knew what she was doing and I was right back up in a minute or so.

The second time took her a solid ten minutes, the first time was closer to one I think. There was some up and down with both hands, more of that weird rolling her hands back and forth.

Watching her work, she seemed to be enjoying the hell out of herself, again the tip of her tongue peeked out, her face screwed up almost like she was getting off herself.

I managed to fire off another one, not quite as messy this time.

Needless to say, that did in my erection. Out came more tissue, she wiped me all up.

"There you go." She said with the sweetest smile I ever saw.

A few minutes later, the Doctor, the one I assumed was named Martins, came in.

I sat there doing my very best to appear completely innocent.

Big smile, he shook my hand.

"All ready to go, Rwanda?" He asked the young woman.

"Yes, Doctor." She smiled, he just nodded to her and busied himself with the equipment. Meanwhile Rwanda got me lying down on my left side, my right leg pulled up to my chest.

"So how are we doing? Are you comfortable?" The Doctor asked me.

"Yes, I am fine." I told him.

"Please prep the patient." The Doctor asked the Nurse, I noticed she was tugging on fresh gloves.

Rwanda reached out and slid a tiny well lubed finger up my rearend, wiggled it around for a few seconds.

By then I figured out that Doctor Martins knew all about what had happened earlier.

I got to watch on the TV screen as he shoved that horrible thing up my rear end. The first part of the view from outside is rather gross, but once inside it's interesting.

Well, as interesting as looking up your own ass can be, I suppose.

He found a polyp that had torn, the obvious source of the brief heavy bleed I had, and he told me he banded that, whatever that means. He also took a biopsy, assuring me it was probably nothing but it never hurt to check.

So, I got dressed and ready to leave when the tiny little nurse came back in. I was just tugging up my pants. She handed me a business card with her name on it.

Rwanda Morgan, it said. "Licensed massage therapy."

"If you get back to town, call me." She told me with a giggle. I did notice one thing different, the top of her smock was now partially unbuttoned, I was sure it had not been before.

I could see a small expanse of creamy brown breast, the upper edge of a violet lace edged bra.

+++

The entire experience was completely different from any I have had in my life, and the part that really floored me was the card and the "Call me?" part?

For what? Was this perhaps 25-26 year old little black nurse interested in me, a 72 year old white guy?

Naw, couldn't be that.

Not likely as a boyfriend, so far more likely she was building herself a side business?