The Urologists Female Assistant Ch 02

After my consultation at the urologist's office about my phimosis, I spent several weeks applying steroid cream and stretching my foreskin as directed.

About the second week, I started to see progress. I could actually view the whole meatus (urethral opening) and roll the preputial opening around to expose other parts of the glans. Still couldn't begin to get it out of the foreskin, though. But it felt thrilling to see a part of my body that had been hidden all my life, for the first time.

After the fourth week of daily application, I hit a breakthrough: my foreskin, reddened and shiny from all the stretching and medication, slipped completely down over the edge of my glans! It still formed a tight collar, and the glans began to turn purple after a couple of minutes. I pushed it back into the foreskin and called the doctor's office to schedule a follow-up appointment, in case there was anything more I needed to do. I left a voice mail and continued toying with my newly freed glans, popping it in and out of its home.

The surface itself had a white sheen to it. I looked up some phimosis blogs and learned this was a combination of smegma and the remains of fibers called synechia, which had bonded my glans and inner foreskin while I was a baby. The fibers looked microscopic and proved hard to dislodge with soap, water, and rubbing with a wet cloth.

In fact, the rubbing posed its own problem. This newborn glans of mine hurt like hell to touch! Like a first-degree burn, almost. I had to treat it gently while it was exposed. I got relief only when I sealed it back up inside its protective foreskin. I made a mental note to ask the doctor about the sensitivity when she examined me.

On my last visit, detailed

here

, I didn't actually get to see the urologist. She'd been called away for a family emergency, and left me to see her PA (physician's assistant). That young woman, Liz, had examined and spoken with me in some rather unprofessional, but thrilling, ways. I wasn't prepared for what happened in the exam room, and the memory of how she handled me had me jerking off almost daily since. Read that story, if you haven't. It sets the stage for this next appointment.

The day after I left my message, Liz called me back.

"Hey, we got your request for an appointment. Is there anything you need to see us about right away?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it urgent. I did get my foreskin to open all the way—"

Liz's voice took on a sudden brightness.

"You exposed your glans? Your foreskin is fully mobile now?"

"Yes."

"Are you able to masturbate by rolling the skin on and off the glans?"

Uh-huh. Nothing had changed about Liz.

"Sort of. The glans is super-sensitive. That's mainly what I'm calling to ask about."

"Ooh, a hypersensitive glans. That's not terribly uncommon when it's first exposed. Tell me what it looks like."

I described the color and texture. She asked for more details.

"Are you in a place where you can take your penis out and look at it right now?"

I don't know why this request surprised me.

"Yes."

"Okay, look at your penis for me."

I did as requested, in the privacy of my bedroom.

"I have it out now."

"Slowly peel back the foreskin as far as you can."

"Got it. It's there now."

"Describe for me what you see."

As I told her how the foreskin now bunched below the corona, exposing the pink-white glans and sulcus, I heard Liz breathe slowly in and out through pursed lips.

"Go on."

I told her the skin felt taut around the middle of my penis, and the glans was becoming engorged and purplish from lack of circulation.

"That's good, that's good," she whispered, then stopped herself. "No, that's bad. Can you get the foreskin back up to close over the glans?"

"Just a second."

"Tell me how you do it."

"I pinch the glans gently, then with the other hand I slide the loose skin up until it snaps over the glans."

"It 'snaps'?"

"Yes."

"That's so totally cool. I mean, that you're able to get it back into position. I think I told you if you couldn't get it back up we might have to amputate your glans. Remember that?"

"Vividly."

"You wouldn't want us to have to cut off the end of your penis, right?"

"No, I would not."

"Okay. Since this isn't that urgent, we can just schedule you an appointment," Liz said, over the sound of a keyboard clicking. "You can see Dr. McGinnis on Thursday after next, or ..." her voice trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Or you could come in tomorrow, that is, Friday, at the close of business. I'll be working late and can see you then."

I felt my scrotum swell at the prospect of another one-on-one inspection by Liz.

"I can do that."

"We'll examine your penis closely then," she said, "and you can show me what you've been doing with your foreskin. Maybe there are some things I can work with you on that will help you stretch it and use it properly."

"Sounds great. See you then."

_____________

I arrived to find the waiting room empty, which didn't seem unusual for a Friday afternoon at a doctor's office. As soon as the front door closed behind me, Liz appeared in the doorway to the exam rooms. She had a familiar grin on, and gestured toward the back of the office suite. I heard no activity as we walked down the hall; I guessed the place was empty except for Liz and me.

"Okay," she said, closing the exam-room door behind her as I turned around to face her. "So, have a seat there and tell me what's going on with your penis."

Accustomed by now to Liz's blunt talk, but still excited by what I suspected was to come, I sat up on the exam table and started telling her about the progress I'd made getting my tight foreskin to loosen up. As I spoke, Liz only broke eye contact to pick up some rubber gloves, one at a time, and fit them onto her hands.

"So, you are able to open your foreskin far enough to see the whole glans?"

"That's right."

"I'll need you to demonstrate that for me."

I froze for a moment, accustomed to being left by myself to change out of my clothes. But Liz just stood there, leaning against the counter, smiling.

"Okay," I said, and started unbuttoning my pants. I kicked my shoes off and slid my pants and briefs off in one move, laying them on the chair next to the table. Liz continued smiling, and raised her eyebrows.

"You can keep your socks on."

It took me a moment to realize she expected me to take my shirt off, too. So I did, and added it to the heap of clothing.

Liz looked me up and down, standing naked (except for my socks) before her. She parted her lips with her tongue, then gestured for me to sit on the table. The paper crackled under my weight. Liz sat on a rolling stool and slid up to me, adjusting her gloves.

"Right, so open your foreskin now."

My hands had a slight quiver as I reached to slide my slightly reddened foreskin down the shaft of my penis. The glans emerged and tipped slightly downward as the frenulum reached its limit.

"Hmm," Liz muttered, "your skin looks a little inflamed. Did you apply steroid cream today?"

I nodded.

"Let's get something to soothe that," she said, and reached behind her for a tube of surgical jelly. I felt the base of my pelvis click as the thought of her applying cold gel to my glans sank in.

Liz dabbed a bead of lubricant onto each of the fingers of one hand, then watched my eyes as she spread the gel among the gloves' surfaces.

"I'm going to apply this to your glans now."

I swear, my penis shrank a half-inch in length when her cold, slippery fingertips touched the glans. I couldn't help gasping, and Liz glanced up at me briefly, lips parted, a slight smile growing.

She held the body of my penis with one hand and gently rubbed the lubricant onto all aspects of the glans. Then she slid my foreskin way down to expose the corona and sulcus, and swirled her fingers around to wet them as well. My erection began immediately.

"Oh, good," she said, as my penis grew in her hands and began to pulse. "This will help me evaluate the tightness you mentioned."

Liz continued gently massaging the gel into my glans, pausing once to apply more to the expanding surface. The diameter of my penis grew rapidly, but the ridged band where my inner and outer foreskin met did not. It formed a narrow "neck" in the body of my penis just below the corona. Liz turned my penis side-to-side to study the groove, still working the gel.

"I see what you're talking about now," she said, idly toying with my glans. "The middle of your foreskin is still a little snug. That's the hardest part to stretch because it's almost the same diameter as your penis."

She stood, still holding my glans between her thumb and forefinger. Our eyes met.

"Are you able to masturbate with it like this?"

I nodded.

"Stand up and show me."

She looked down as I grasped the lower part of my penis, which stood like a bridge between us. I pulled the skin toward her, and as the snug band of foreskin started to climb over itself and the corona, it jumped forward, forming a nipple over the urethral opening.

"Wow," Liz whispered.

I pulled back toward myself, and the foreskin took longer to clear the corona, but it did stretch out along the body of my penis until my hand reached the base. I repeated this up-down stroke slowly for Liz to see.

"It's so cool that it snaps shut that way," she said, resting her arms on my shoulders as I continued to roll the skin up and down. "Like it needs to get home. And then it stretches slowly back open when you pull on it."

We continued this slow dance of sorts, Liz's eyes occasionally meeting mine but mostly dwelling on my foreskin's travel. After a minute or so, Liz interrupted me.

"Let me feel how much it resists."

With her dry hand (still gloved), Liz took my penile skin near the base and tugged it gently toward her. When the foreskin finally popped over the glans, I caught my breath. It felt like a whole new experience—in fact, it was just that—for a woman to manipulate my foreskin on and off the glans. My eyelids twitched from the pleasure.

Then, just as suddenly as she began, Liz stopped her stimulation and let my erection stand with the foreskin fully retracted.

"So even though the snapping looks and feels good, the tightness here," she pointed to the groove, "causes the glans to swell uncomfortably, yes?"

"That's right."

We both watched my slightly bobbing penis and the head grew larger and turned purple.

"I can fix that," Liz said, and abruptly squeezed the glans until it shrank under the force. She pulled the foreskin shut, and we again observed as the glans returned to normal erect size, filling the foreskin until its veins bulged.

She turned to the cabinets behind her.

"We have something you can take home to loosen up your foreskin a little more," she said, opening doors until she found a small paperboard box. She turned to face me.

"I'll show you how to use it."

She opened the box and pulled out a plastic device that resembled a gynecologist's speculum, but much shorter. She spread lubricant over its two fingers, then rolled my foreskin open. Squeezing the glans again, she applied the device, then pulled my foreskin closed over it. She turned a small wheel at the hinge and I could feel the fingers stretching my foreskin wider.

"Okay," Liz said, still turning the wheel slowly, "tell me when it starts to hurt."

She locked eyes with me and continued adjusting the device gradually. I felt my foreskin expand, but I couldn't look away to see it happening. Liz's lips opened a bit and that same grin started to grow. The stretching started to tingle, then sting.

"That's it," I said, holding my breath.

"My expanding this tool inside your foreskin is starting to cause you pain?" Liz asked slowly, still staring into my eyes.

"Yesssss," I whispered. "Please stop."

"Stop expanding the tool and stretching your foreskin?" Liz's tongue suddenly appeared between her teeth.

"Yes, please," I begged, beginning to cringe. "It hurts."

Liz let go of the tool, but didn't release the tension wheel. We both looked down to see my erection standing strong, the plastic tool half-exposed at the end of my penis.

"That's about where you want to keep it for about one minute, with the steroid cream applied beforehand," Liz said, and stepped back a bit. "Think you can do that each day for me?"

I nodded, pondering the words "for me" at the end of her sentence. Why did she think stretching my foreskin was something I'd do for her?

"Okay," she said, and in one quick move released the tension on the device and slipped it out of my foreskin. She held it up between us.

"Wash it when you're done and keep it in a clean place," she said, then turned to rinse the tool under running water and dry it with a cloth. She turned again to me and set it on my pile of clothes.

"Now let's have a closer look at that tender glans. Have a seat and scoot back."

My legs shook a bit as I sat back down on the paper and slid away from the table's edge. Liz gathered a V-shaped pan, sponge, and tweezers. Filling the pan partway, she put on a pair of magnifying goggles with a small LED attached. Then she stood next to me and slipped the pan between my thighs, under my testicles. A string of pre-cum formed between my meatus and the water in the pan.

"This will get a little messy, and I will need both hands," she said. "Peel your foreskin back for me."

I did as instructed.

"Hold it back, please."

I stretched the skin down to fully expose the glans. My erection had subsided a bit, but resumed its growth as Liz took my glans between finger and thumb and leaned close with the goggles, slowly turning my penis to examine the glans' surface.

"Yep, looks like synechia are still rooted in the glans's surface," she said. I could feel her breath on my hypersensitive membrane. "That's part of why it probably hurts when I do this."

And she suddenly rubbed the glans firmly, making me jump.

"Ow. Okay. I get it."

She looked up at me and shook her head.

"We have two ways of dealing with this," she reached toward the tweezers. "I can pull the fibers out one at a time, which could take a half-hour or so now and may cause some discomfort. Or, you can keep the glans moist, and masturbate occasionally, which will make the fibers deteriorate on their own over time.

"And there's a third option," she said, setting the tweezers back down. She stood to meet my eyes, still holding my throbbing, raw glans. "Have you thought about my offer to circumcise you?"

I shook my head.

"Are you sure?" she leaned her head slightly to one side. "We could do it here with an appointment. Dr. McGinnis would make herself available to supervise. She'll examine your penis herself, then we'll prep it with antiseptic, then I'll administer the anesthetic. You won't feel a thing after that. If you want, you can even sit up and observe as I slowly cut into your foreskin, slice it all the way around, and take it off of your glans for the last time."

I swallowed hard.

"Then you can watch me stitch up the inner and outer layers so they heal together properly. For days, your tender, exposed glans will rub against your underwear every time you move. You will find this painfully stimulating, and you'll get erections just from walking. Your glans will build a toughened surface to protect itself. After a few weeks, this process will have fixed both problems—the synechia and the tight ridged band—in one procedure."

She pinched the retracted foreskin and pulled it to the side.

"I could cut your foreskin off high and tight, like this," she said, sliding the loose skin down toward the base, "or low and loose like this," she pulled the skin up toward the glans. "Then you could still masturbate almost like you're used to," and she closed the foreskin over the glans.

"Of course, the downside is, you would never again feel a girl skin your penis back like this," and she slid the foreskin open again. "Oh, but you don't have a girlfriend right now, do you? So you wouldn't miss much."

With that, my penis began bucking involuntarily, and hot, white jets of semen streamed out over the pan, the table, and onto the floor. One burst hit the lower cabinet several feet away. Liz gently pumped the last of it out by tugging rhythmically on my foreskin. She sighed and took off her goggles.

"Well, that tells me you really do want us to circumcise you. I'll recommend that to Dr. McGinnis. We'll discuss it again, together, when you come back for your next follow-up. She can examine you herself, while I watch, and determine which circumcision would be best for you.

"We work well, as a team, circumcising men. Your foreskin will be in the best of hands when it comes off."

I tried to slow down my breathing. My testicles began a descent into the cold water, interrupting my breath again.

"But for now, do you want me to tweeze your glans?"

"No. Not necessary," my vocabulary seemed short all of a sudden.

"Okay, then here's how to loosen the fibers gently."

Liz began gently rubbing the glans with a combination of my own semen and the lubricant she dispensed from the tube. My post-orgasmic hypersensitivity took my breath away, and my hips involuntarily scooted backward. Liz grasped the base of my penis in one hand and continued squeezing the glans with the other.

"Liz, that's too much," I managed to say, and grabbed her wrists. Liz looked me square in the eye with a menacing grin. My grip made no impact on the intensity of her stroking, and I fell backward, grasping the sides of the table and trying to continue breathing.

Liz gradually slowed her harsh massage, focusing one thumb on my frenulum. My legs throbbed. Then she suddenly stopped, allowing my foreskin to snap closed. She cupped my scrotum and kneaded my testicles, replacing the pain with pleasure. Then she patted them gently and stripped off her gloves with a snap.

"I'm an expert at circumcising men," she cooed. "Dr. McGinnis has even documented my work on video. Look me up on YouTube.

"We'll be happy to examine you again, soon. Say, six weeks?"

I nodded. Liz stood there, watching me get dressed, and grinned a little wider as I gingerly stuffed the swollen, foreskin-wrapped glans of my penis into my briefs.

"Don't forget to mop up your mess," she said, exiting the room.

I felt a little dizzy, but managed to locate and swab away the half-dozen splotches of semen I'd launched across the floor.