Peyronie's

"Not really, in fact, its bend seems to be just about right to internally get to the right spot with my wife." OK, now let me edge toward the vernacular, I thought, and said, "In fact, I can pretty well target her G spot now with the head, which is new, and we're both enjoying the change, at least so far. It's not as good for oral sex as before, but she's a trooper and hasn't complained. I just wish the condition didn't involve shrinkage, however slight. Why couldn't Nature make the condition result in expansion rather than contraction, anyway?"

She smiled at that. "Mmm, the first part of that sounds like fun. Of course, I don't have the baseline, but from what I can tell, you're lucky both in the bend and in the lack of shrinkage - some guys really have this put an end to their partnered sex lives. You obviously don't have that problem, and you're certainly not shrunken to an ineffective state."

"No, effective is fine - but as most guys, I guess I wish I had more - I feel like I can't afford the shrinkage, however slight."

"You're being silly, you know that, right?" I nodded, and she continued, and I was back to hoping this might take a really long time, since it was such a fine feeling. "You could still shrink considerably and not be anything off the normal scale. Dicks are pretty much dicks, and once in, most females are focused on sensation, not on looks or size, since their machinery is going to expand to fit the tool, as it were."

"Yeah, but don't women, don't you, really prefer something a bit more massive to something a bit less? I'm assuming your work puts you into contact with all shapes and sizes." I tried not to emphasize the "contact" part, but I knew what I meant, and so did she.

"As a matter of fact, it does, and while I'm not going to pretend there's not a fairly significant range, we women are constructed to both accept and to be satisfied by the entire normal range, which again, you're well within."

Almost, but not quite, to keep my mind off how good she felt stroking me, I continued, "But if the range of normalcy is from, say, 4 inches to 8 inches, measured clinically and not by wishful thinking, with outliers past those markers in the very, very minority, then that still puts a 100% difference in length from small to large, and the 4-inchers out there have got to be intimidated by that."

"Well, that may be, but you're closer to the median and the mode, so you've got no reason at all to be disappointed in your genetics."

"Maybe, but I still wish..."

"Well, let me see if I can get your mind off wishing and back to more urgent matters," she said smiling throughout all this chit chat. And with that, she tightened her grip just a tad, and took my balls in her other hand. Massaging more firmly, she used her thumb to stroke the bend so it straightened a bit. I recognized that from the internet self-massage descriptions, and thought, ok, that's how I should do it. I also thought hey, this is no doubt the only ever time anything like this will happen to me, so why not go for it. What's to lose but a harumph and then I really will be left to handle things on my own - I've had worse turns of events.

"Uh, you know, you're a very attractive woman," I started.

"For a doctor, you mean?"

"For a woman, as I said."

And then, to keep my idea on track and not let her divert, "I don't suppose you might let me see just a bit more? Theraputically, of course - it would no doubt speed things along and you could get out of the office earlier," I offered, chuckling more as a defense than from the humor.

"Ah, always wanting more - you guys!" she rolled her eyes, but kept on stroking. OK, not thrown out on my ear yet.

"Yeah, but it's a major fantasy - the whole caretaker candy striper nurse character, except you'd be trumping that big time. Plus, as I said, you're visually stimulating!"

"Visually stimulating. Hmm. So, if I stop this and take off the lab coat and, say, the blouse, I wouldn't need to do the maniupulation?"

"Ah, I see your point. Well, as a scientist, I'd think the hypotheses would at least be worth a try, don't you think?"

Smiling again (good, good!), and it was truly a terrific smile, then rolling her eyes, she paused, then wiping her hands again (damn), she quickly doffed her lab coat, leaving her in a plain white blouse - very businesslike, opaque, not even the silhouette of bra underneath. She paused and looked at me, clearly considering her next move.

Then, slowly, she unbuttoned the blouse, pulling it out of the conservative khaki skirt, and revealing a red (crimson red, whoa!) balconette bra that cradled two gorgeous breasts. C cup, for sure, I thought - not a D, but beyond a B (that I was more used to). The cups were lace-edged and embroidered, but essentially sheer, and I could make out her nipples, which were making their own indentations in the whatever kind of fabric it was.

My cock gave a jerk, its way of applauding, I guess. She didn't miss the signal, and laughed aloud.

"See?" I said, "confirmatory evidence is undeniable! You are beyond attractive, you're vernacularly hot, and my dick doesn't ever, ever lie!"

It was true, and the fact that she came to work with that bra was a giveaway that there was major heat underneath the professional exterior!

"Very flattering," she said, still laughing.

"So now, are you going to finish without further tactile assistance?"

"No, sorry. I'm so basic, Neanderthal male, I'm always wanting more as you said, so I'm going to hope for more and more, until I am planted deeply within you!"

"Well, there's no way that's going to happen. So what now?"

"Well, how about what now would be that you go back to the manipulation and allow me to watch and to manipulate you a bit as well, and we'll see?"

"This is only to speed things up, understand?" she said, stepping back to pick up the lube, then toward me, close enough for me to touch her.

"Understood," I said. At that time, I'd have agreed with about anything she came up with.

Lubing up yet again (glad their practice was well supplied), she encircled my cock again with her wonderful hand, and stepped between my legs. Between the angle of the table back and where everything was positioned, I was able to reach out with my hands and cup those lovely breasts, hefting them, gently investigating their weight, the wonderful liquidity of the globes, and then rolling the nipples through the fabric. I was watching her breasts during this, then looked up at her face. She had an expression of part concentration, part (I hoped) enjoyment. The nipples had an attitude of hard appreciation, and I was voting with them. I reflected that I had no idea what was really going on - was she pissed at a neglectful husband somewhere at home?, or a recently discovered to be adulterous one? Was I just an irresistable masculine wonderment (ok, that theory quickly discarded)? Was she curious? testing the boundaries of her professional vs her personal life? Just horny? Doing a science experiment? Collecting data? Was this a first for her as much as for me, or was this just the standard treatment and that was why the sheer bra (that one I doubted)?

After a considerable amount of rumination on the issue - a good second, maybe two, I'd guess - I decided to just go with the flow and count my blessing for the day.

Meanwhile, she was stroking again, and her nipples were hard, and I was now itching to get inside the bra, which I noticed was a front close. Moving very deliberately, knowing she'd get what I was doing and stop me if she wanted, I unclipped the bra, and her breasts flowed into my waiting hands, bare and wonderfully female. If her nipples could have been harder, I didn't know how, and if her breasts could have felt better in my hands at that moment, I didn't know how either. I'm sure if she hadn't been stroking, my prick would have given another jump for joy.

Her eyes had closed, and I thought I now knew she was enjoying it. She also moved her free hand to my balls and rolled them some more, a lovely one-two combination that all women should know and practice, in my view.

But then she moved her free hand from my balls under to my sphincter, causing me to jerk in surprise.

"Like that?"

"Not really sure - that's new for me."

"Well, most guys find it worth it once they relax, and I can feel you definitely need to relax that."

"OK, I'll try." And I did, and bit by bit I loosened up, and bit by bit, she inserted, pretty easily with all the lube down there by then. We've all had that exam, but getting that exam with an erection was a whole new thing to me.

She continued, taking her time, her other hand steadily stroking, and my continuing my groping. Then she started, on each up stroke, to stimulate the frenulum specifically and then to circle the head a couple of times, across the opening, back to the head, back to the frenulum, back down the shaft, and repeat, and repeat. I didn't know which was the more erotic - her one finger pushing its way inexorably toward my prostate, or her other fingers dancing on my cock. I also didn't care.

Stroke after stroke, finger nudging deeper, breasts doing that amazing thing they do, I knew it wouldn't be long, and told her, "Almost there!" in more of a croak than a voice.

She took that as her cue, and did something or other inside me that I figure was massaging that prostate - producing in me a knife edge between excruciating and ecstatically pleasurable, and I had no idea which - while she tightened her grip and pulled in a way that would itself have probably been painful if I'd been sane at the time.

The result was that my mind blew along with whatever load of semen had built up inside, along, I think, with a couple of intestines and maybe a gall bladder. I'm not sure what happened with the first spurt, since I wasn't exactly conscious, but the second flew up and onto her left breast, which I was squeezing more tightly than maybe I should have (and I realized that and relaxed a bit) and another made it onto her wrist, before the flow subsided into an ooze that she milked out of me with practiced strokes both in- and ex-ternally. About that time, I let go and slumped back against the backrest, my heart pounding, my breath in gasps.

And all the while, she smiled that smile, and as I came back to earth from wherever, she disengaged, turned, cleaned her hands, and turned back, still naked from the waist up, and looking like no physician I'd ever seen.

I had no idea what the protocol now was to be, from round two to the police being summoned.

Naturally, she solved that as well. "OK, that was impressive! I hope you found some enjoyment as well as physical relief, but I must remind you that, as you know, this never happened. You were left alone in the room to prepare, I came in, took measurements and photos, and left. You can create whatever personal care memory you like for after that, but I was not here for it. We will notify you of any lab results, and again, I assure you, you're normal in every way but the bend. Do you understand?"

By the time she got to the last sentence, there was no mistaking her full-on serious intent, and I was in agreement. I was also looking at a gorgeous female being ever so serious, with her breasts still on full display. I thought it would be interesting to tell my wife about it, and figured she'd never believe it, so I should just couch it as a fun fantasy if I ever decided to relay it.

Meanwhile, Dr. ... picked up her bra, adjusted the wondrous breasts into the cups almost negligently, that way women have of casually handling what we guys consider pretty sacred territory, clipped it, then donned her blouse, then lab coat. I was still sitting, naked from the waist down, probably a stupid and satisfied look on my face, cock mostly flaccid again and just slightly oozing the final remnants of a lifelong memory.

I nodded, then affirmed with an "Absolutely, and thank you for covering for Dr. Adams today. Please let him know I wish him a speedy recovery." I wondered if she were as horny as I'd have been if the roles had reversed - if she was, it was well hidden, and now that she was dressed, I couldn't even see if those nipples were softening (minor downside).

"Precisely. Well, good day, you can get dressed. I'll be in the waiting room and will lock the door behind you when you leave." And with that, she handed me some paper towels, turned and disappeared out the examining room door.

I factored it all in as I wiped down, got dressed, and doing so quickly, finding her in the waiting room as promised.

"By the way, doctor," I said, unable to resist, "Would it be suitable for me to change to your practice in the future? I have no complaints with Dr. Adams, but feel you understand my situation in a way that he does not and appreciate your professionalism in the matter."

"I'm flattered, and we are fortunate in our urology group that we will facilitate such a move without any problem. I would, however, suggest you consider it further, as I know you have a longer term relationship with Dr Adams. Why don't you think it over, then call the receptionist in a week or so, to schedule a further checkup for about six months from now. She will assign you to whatever doctor you request at that time."

"Got it. And thanks again," I signed off cheerily, and wasted no time making that follow up appointment, as you might imagine. In fact, it's coming up next week. I don't think I'll need the Viagra this time - like I say, I've been lucky!