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PART 1:
So there I sat on the upright table in the relatively spacious exam room, clad in the airy gown with nothing underneath, with my wife a few feet away in a wholly utilitarian chair. The nurse had been questioning me for a figurative minute or so at that point, verifying my particulars and confirming the history of my complaint. Said complaint was a recurrent, annoying pain in my lower abdomen that to that point no one could figure out. It obviously wasn’t typical, and we knew by that point via ultrasound and MRI that it wasn’t anything catastrophic, but gosh, I’d had my fill of it and wanted it solved. The urologist I’d previously seen found himself at a loss and in turn referred me to this more specialized one, whom was basically known as the “House” of the field in the immediate region.
“All that settled,” said the nurse, ”the first thing we’re going to do is get a sample.”
She was a very personable lady, I’d guess in her late 30s or maybe early 40s, who projected a very laid-back yet still professional attitude. Her mannerisms and expressions during the preceding discussion indicated she didn’t take things too seriously, so I felt like I could just say what I was thinking without her taking it the wrong way.
“OK. I’m well familiar with that by now. Just leave me the cup and point me to the bathroom. Uh, I just hope it’s close since I’m in this thing,” I replied, tugging at the shoulders of the gown.
“Oh, no, it’ll be in here. And it’s not a urine sample I’m talking about.”
“Hrmph?” I muttered, looking back at her quizzically.
“It’s a semen sample,” she replied with something of poker face, seemingly awaiting my reaction to that news.
“Ohhhhhhh,” I sang, pondering the ramifications of that. “Well, again, just leave me the cup…”
At this stage I’d pretty much momentarily forgotten my wife was in the room, so I didn’t bother checking her reaction to any of this.
“No,” said the nurse, trying to stifle a chuckle--you could tell she’s had this conversation before--”I’ll be extracting it. We have a process to insure it doesn’t get compromised prior to testing.”
OK, now I’m getting a little uneasy.
“Uh, you’re not going to stick a needle into me or something are you?”
“No, sir. We’ll be doing it the old-fashioned way.”
“Ahhh. Ohhh-kay.”
At this point, I become conscious of my wife’s presence again. I look over, and she’s just got a look on her face of, “Well, they’ve gotta do what they’ve gotta do.”
“Uh, so do you want to stay in here for this?” I ask. I wouldn’t call my wife naturally jealous, but I’m thinking the thought of another woman cranking my yank in some fashion might raise her possessive antennae and not be something she wants to hang around and watch.
“I’m good staying if you’re OK with it,” she says with a hint of a shrug.
“All right. It’s certainly not going to be anything you haven’t seen before.”
I quickly correct myself, adding, “I mean, aside from the whole ‘other person’ part.”
My fumbling though that thought caused the nurse to chuckle, though she made a valiant effort to hide it.
“So how do we do this?” I ask.
“Scoot up to the edge of the table and raise your gown while I get the kit,” replies the nurse.
I comply as she walks over to the nearby cabinet and removes a box about the size of an old VCR and sets it down on the small table next to the table I’m on. She pulls up a stool, right there in front of me and my dangling participle, and opens the box. I peek over and see various compartments inside it with a couple of tubes of who-knows-what, some things I don’t readily recognize, and what strikes me pretty obviously as some manner of Fleshlight-type cylinder.
The nurse pulls out one of the tubes, takes off the cap, then opens a packet of gloves and puts them on. Then using the back of one hand, squeezes some goo from the tube onto the palm of the other hand. As she rubs her hands together smearing the goop, she explains, “Now what I’m going to do to start off is manually stimulate you to an erection. You’ve already said you have no dysfunction in that regard, so just try to relax and let it happen.”
Holding back a giggle, I look toward my wife as the nurse begins stroking me. My wife looks back with a grin and cocks her head to one side, as if to say, “Well, here we go!”
The goop is pretty cold at first, and has an interesting texture. Not quite as thick as petroleum jelly or K-Y, but thicker than baby oil. It’s slick like Astroglide, but without the sticky undertone of Astroglide.
Quickly, my penis starts expanding from the nurse's touch.
“What is that stuff?” I ask, just trying to prod a conversation along to keep the mood light.
“It’s a special compound, again to ensure the sample isn’t chemically compromised. It’s silicon-based. Does it feel OK? It’s not burning or anything is it?”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. You don’t mind me talking during this, do you?”
“Whatever makes you comfortable. I’d honestly rather you talk than just stare at me blankly like some men do.”
My wang continuing to grow, I decide to continue the chat.
“About how many of these, er, procedures do you do in a day?”
“I probably average about 3 per week,”she replies, as she now stacks her hands on my manhood, baseball-bat-style, as I near full erection. The head poking out through the top hand on the downstroke eggs me on. I just love the visual of two hands on my cock and it not being enough to cover it. I look back over at my wife, who’s now wearing a sly, knowing grin, as if she’s proud to be showing me off.
“Let me know when you feel like you’re fully erect,”continues the nurse.
“OK. I’m not quite there yet, but it’s close. So what’s the training for this like? Do you hold an in-service at the Tokyo Spa?”
Yeah, that wasn’t as witty coming out of my mouth as it sounded in my head….
“You’d be surprised,” replies the nurse, raising her eyebrows and continuing her 2-fisted massage. Every now and then, she bends her hands slightly in opposite directions, I assume to judge my turgidity, which has now just about reached full bore.
I shift my gaze back to her hands. The sensations get a little more intense. I try to stay still, but my hips involuntarily start to squirm a bit.
“I think that’s it,” I dutifully report, “Maximum potential unless you really want to take me to the edge.”
“Oh, no, we’re just getting started. We don’t want to go that far yet. Just hold up your gown and stand up for me so I can take a measurement.”
“Oh, he’ll like that!” interjects my wife out of the blue.
“REALLY?!?!?” I reply, whipping my head around to glare at her in disbelief for contributing that piece of commentary.
“Well, he does enjoy it,” my wife retorts, directing her words at the nurse in her own defense.
“Well, she enjoys doing it,” I mutter, getting in the last word.
The nurse chuckles slightly, apparently entertained by the exchange.
“Well, you certainly have no reason to shy away from a ruler, I’ll say that much.”
With those words, suddenly my wife and I are back on the same side as we exchange a cheeky smile.
Measuring tape in hand, the nurse explains, “I just need to get one circumference measurement right here…” wrapping the tape around the base of my cock, snug up to my ballsack. The markings on the tape don’t look like conventional numbers, but I’m not sure. It might be some coded bullshit to maintain the measuree's dignity.
After taking the measurement, the nurse sets the tape back in the box and reaches into another of the compartments, flipping through a stack of small, flat plastic bags. When she pulls one out, I can finally make out that it has a ring inside. I try to peer over and investigate the stack a little more as she pulls the one from its bag.
“I’m going to now place this around the base of your penis. It’ll help maintain your erection and may even maximize the volume of your sample.” As she explains this and begins putting it on, I’m still looking over at the box.
“..and yes, this is the biggest one in the kit if you’re wondering.”
Busted! But with that confirmed, I look over at my wife again and jut my chin up in a silent, “How ‘bout that?” expression. She just smiles back.
“All right. Now just have a seat again. I’m going to change my gloves real quick.”
I’d never used a cock ring before, so it was kind of unsettling feeling the constriction, but my goodness, it was making every vein on my rod pop like the Incredible Hulk bursting through his clothes.
“OK,” the nurse resumed, “Now I’m going to place this cylinder over your penis...”
So there I sat on the upright table in the relatively spacious exam room, clad in the airy gown with nothing underneath, with my wife a few feet away in a wholly utilitarian chair. The nurse had been questioning me for a figurative minute or so at that point, verifying my particulars and confirming the history of my complaint. Said complaint was a recurrent, annoying pain in my lower abdomen that to that point no one could figure out. It obviously wasn’t typical, and we knew by that point via ultrasound and MRI that it wasn’t anything catastrophic, but gosh, I’d had my fill of it and wanted it solved. The urologist I’d previously seen found himself at a loss and in turn referred me to this more specialized one, whom was basically known as the “House” of the field in the immediate region.
“All that settled,” said the nurse, ”the first thing we’re going to do is get a sample.”
She was a very personable lady, I’d guess in her late 30s or maybe early 40s, who projected a very laid-back yet still professional attitude. Her mannerisms and expressions during the preceding discussion indicated she didn’t take things too seriously, so I felt like I could just say what I was thinking without her taking it the wrong way.
“OK. I’m well familiar with that by now. Just leave me the cup and point me to the bathroom. Uh, I just hope it’s close since I’m in this thing,” I replied, tugging at the shoulders of the gown.
“Oh, no, it’ll be in here. And it’s not a urine sample I’m talking about.”
“Hrmph?” I muttered, looking back at her quizzically.
“It’s a semen sample,” she replied with something of poker face, seemingly awaiting my reaction to that news.
“Ohhhhhhh,” I sang, pondering the ramifications of that. “Well, again, just leave me the cup…”
At this stage I’d pretty much momentarily forgotten my wife was in the room, so I didn’t bother checking her reaction to any of this.
“No,” said the nurse, trying to stifle a chuckle--you could tell she’s had this conversation before--”I’ll be extracting it. We have a process to insure it doesn’t get compromised prior to testing.”
OK, now I’m getting a little uneasy.
“Uh, you’re not going to stick a needle into me or something are you?”
“No, sir. We’ll be doing it the old-fashioned way.”
“Ahhh. Ohhh-kay.”
At this point, I become conscious of my wife’s presence again. I look over, and she’s just got a look on her face of, “Well, they’ve gotta do what they’ve gotta do.”
“Uh, so do you want to stay in here for this?” I ask. I wouldn’t call my wife naturally jealous, but I’m thinking the thought of another woman cranking my yank in some fashion might raise her possessive antennae and not be something she wants to hang around and watch.
“I’m good staying if you’re OK with it,” she says with a hint of a shrug.
“All right. It’s certainly not going to be anything you haven’t seen before.”
I quickly correct myself, adding, “I mean, aside from the whole ‘other person’ part.”
My fumbling though that thought caused the nurse to chuckle, though she made a valiant effort to hide it.
“So how do we do this?” I ask.
“Scoot up to the edge of the table and raise your gown while I get the kit,” replies the nurse.
I comply as she walks over to the nearby cabinet and removes a box about the size of an old VCR and sets it down on the small table next to the table I’m on. She pulls up a stool, right there in front of me and my dangling participle, and opens the box. I peek over and see various compartments inside it with a couple of tubes of who-knows-what, some things I don’t readily recognize, and what strikes me pretty obviously as some manner of Fleshlight-type cylinder.
The nurse pulls out one of the tubes, takes off the cap, then opens a packet of gloves and puts them on. Then using the back of one hand, squeezes some goo from the tube onto the palm of the other hand. As she rubs her hands together smearing the goop, she explains, “Now what I’m going to do to start off is manually stimulate you to an erection. You’ve already said you have no dysfunction in that regard, so just try to relax and let it happen.”
Holding back a giggle, I look toward my wife as the nurse begins stroking me. My wife looks back with a grin and cocks her head to one side, as if to say, “Well, here we go!”
The goop is pretty cold at first, and has an interesting texture. Not quite as thick as petroleum jelly or K-Y, but thicker than baby oil. It’s slick like Astroglide, but without the sticky undertone of Astroglide.
Quickly, my penis starts expanding from the nurse's touch.
“What is that stuff?” I ask, just trying to prod a conversation along to keep the mood light.
“It’s a special compound, again to ensure the sample isn’t chemically compromised. It’s silicon-based. Does it feel OK? It’s not burning or anything is it?”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. You don’t mind me talking during this, do you?”
“Whatever makes you comfortable. I’d honestly rather you talk than just stare at me blankly like some men do.”
My wang continuing to grow, I decide to continue the chat.
“About how many of these, er, procedures do you do in a day?”
“I probably average about 3 per week,”she replies, as she now stacks her hands on my manhood, baseball-bat-style, as I near full erection. The head poking out through the top hand on the downstroke eggs me on. I just love the visual of two hands on my cock and it not being enough to cover it. I look back over at my wife, who’s now wearing a sly, knowing grin, as if she’s proud to be showing me off.
“Let me know when you feel like you’re fully erect,”continues the nurse.
“OK. I’m not quite there yet, but it’s close. So what’s the training for this like? Do you hold an in-service at the Tokyo Spa?”
Yeah, that wasn’t as witty coming out of my mouth as it sounded in my head….
“You’d be surprised,” replies the nurse, raising her eyebrows and continuing her 2-fisted massage. Every now and then, she bends her hands slightly in opposite directions, I assume to judge my turgidity, which has now just about reached full bore.
I shift my gaze back to her hands. The sensations get a little more intense. I try to stay still, but my hips involuntarily start to squirm a bit.
“I think that’s it,” I dutifully report, “Maximum potential unless you really want to take me to the edge.”
“Oh, no, we’re just getting started. We don’t want to go that far yet. Just hold up your gown and stand up for me so I can take a measurement.”
“Oh, he’ll like that!” interjects my wife out of the blue.
“REALLY?!?!?” I reply, whipping my head around to glare at her in disbelief for contributing that piece of commentary.
“Well, he does enjoy it,” my wife retorts, directing her words at the nurse in her own defense.
“Well, she enjoys doing it,” I mutter, getting in the last word.
The nurse chuckles slightly, apparently entertained by the exchange.
“Well, you certainly have no reason to shy away from a ruler, I’ll say that much.”
With those words, suddenly my wife and I are back on the same side as we exchange a cheeky smile.
Measuring tape in hand, the nurse explains, “I just need to get one circumference measurement right here…” wrapping the tape around the base of my cock, snug up to my ballsack. The markings on the tape don’t look like conventional numbers, but I’m not sure. It might be some coded bullshit to maintain the measuree's dignity.
After taking the measurement, the nurse sets the tape back in the box and reaches into another of the compartments, flipping through a stack of small, flat plastic bags. When she pulls one out, I can finally make out that it has a ring inside. I try to peer over and investigate the stack a little more as she pulls the one from its bag.
“I’m going to now place this around the base of your penis. It’ll help maintain your erection and may even maximize the volume of your sample.” As she explains this and begins putting it on, I’m still looking over at the box.
“..and yes, this is the biggest one in the kit if you’re wondering.”
Busted! But with that confirmed, I look over at my wife again and jut my chin up in a silent, “How ‘bout that?” expression. She just smiles back.
“All right. Now just have a seat again. I’m going to change my gloves real quick.”
I’d never used a cock ring before, so it was kind of unsettling feeling the constriction, but my goodness, it was making every vein on my rod pop like the Incredible Hulk bursting through his clothes.
“OK,” the nurse resumed, “Now I’m going to place this cylinder over your penis...”
