Gynecological exams always made me very nervous. There was always that element of vulnerability that seemed almost overwhelming. A few times it was even enough to make me skip my annual pap smear. I think most women have the same feeling prior to an appointment. You can be the sexiest, horniest, and most desirous creature on the planet and there is still something very unnerving about getting on an exam table without any clothes on, throwing a sheet over yourself, and hiking your heels into stirrups so some stranger with cold, gloved hands can stick his fingers up inside you while you just lay there and pretend to be so very interested in the strange little designs in the ceiling.
I had been trying to prepare myself for this encounter once again. I nearly skipped it to be quite honest. I took a very hot shower prior to my exam; scrubbing myself to a literal squeaky clean, clipping my pubic hairs down short across my mound and shaving smoothly from my clitoris down on both sides of my labia. I stood for a time in front of the floor length mirror looking at my body after I had put on deodorant and brushed my hair and teeth, admiring my body a little and trying to develop some semblance of self-esteem as even the thought of an exam made me feel intruded upon and foreign unto myself.
I went to my appointment with much concealed distress, worrying about little things, natural responses that I had no control over, like the fact that my nipples draw up and get hard in little points when I am naked in a cool room and they are touched, like the fact that the slightest pressure to my love box makes me raise my hips without thinking twice about it, natural responses that I didn’t want a doctor to see, but had no regulation of.
I walked into the room where I was to be examined and took off my clothes, trying to bide time by folding everything too neatly and putting them in a stack by my purse and coat on a chair. I unfolded the sheet that was to cover me thinking, “These things never seem to be big enough.” I sat down and waited for the doctor with much nervousness. When he came in he was dressed casually save a white coat thrown over his button down shirt. He smiled at me (like doctors always do) and sat down, casually looking through my records and then said, “Okay, let’s get this over with as fast as we can because I know you want out of here.” And I smiled in agreement whole heartedly and then smiled a bit more at his smile that was genuine, seeing that he did understand how women felt about exams.
I laid down, being sure to pull the sheet up to my neck nearly as he approached me from one side. He lifted the sheet off of my right breast and placed one hand over the top of it and the other to circle gently in a crescent, cupping the underside of my soft flesh. I caught his eyes briefly and then looked away, the look that was on his face was a most serious one as he checked for any lumps, gently massaging and kneading my breast, searching in a circular fashion towards the nipple, and as always it hardened. He rolled his thumb and forefinger from the outer sides of my breast towards the nipple until milk appeared, glistening upon my rose colored peak. I was nearly embarrassed, though this was totally natural given the fact that I had had a baby not long ago and was still nursing. He reached for a tissue and dabbed at the milk and then pulled the sheet back up to cover my breast as he leaned over me a bit and pulled the sheet away from my other breast. I felt his coat tickle at my side as he leaned in to examine my left breast.
The tickling caused me to arch my back in an effort to pull away from the sensation, which neatly pushed the flesh of my soft mound into his hands as he reached for it, a dance of movements, cause and effect, that couldn’t have been choreographed any smoother. He turned and smiled at me oddly, and I could only look away with a blush on my cheeks like a school girl. He kneaded this breast in the same manner and as he squeezed a bit of milk from the nipple, instead of dabbing it away he began telling me how I could prevent nipple irritation if after each nursing I left milk on the nipple to air dry as he traced the drops of milk around the hard, tight peak. I said, “Really? Hmm.” He squeezed a bit more milk from my breast, which triggered the milk to let down this time.
“I think while we have the milk flowing, we’ll go ahead and run some tests to make sure your baby is getting everything he needs and nothing that he doesn’t.” He said. I kind of half shrugged approval and then said, “But the milk won’t let down for a breast pump, I’ve tried them before.”
“We’ll just have to press by hand then, won’t we ?” he said, which was a statement, not a question. With that he retrieved a sterile container and handed it to me, motioning for me to sit up. I took the container and sat up, the sheet falling loosely across my lap, showing the tops of my hips and hints of the short cropped hair of my box. I had expressed in front of people before, so I really thought nothing of it until after some long minutes of manipulating one breast and then the other without so much as a single drop of milk to prove it in the container.
“Hmm,” he said, “Let’s see if I can show you a more effective way of pressing yourself.” His words rang twice in my mind, the two or more ways that I could take the statement. He bid me to sit in a chair. I gathered my sheet up one handed and rather clumsily as I got down and moved to the chair still holding the container. “Now,” he said as he pulled his stool up behind my chair, “Watch how I do this and with luck it will work for you.”
He cut off the overhead lights of the room so that the only light was from the exam light pointed at the corner and rolling his stool up close to my back he reached around me, as if to embrace me, save for the back of my chair, and showed me exactly where he wanted me to hold the container with one hand, as he extended his other to softly massage my full and hardened breast, explaining how I needed to be totally relaxed. I held the container as he drew his right hand away and began massaging the muscles in my neck and telling me that relaxed didn’t mean slouching, that I needed to sit up straight while I expressed. My breasts were becoming engorged with the firm, gentle strokes of his fingers across them as he worked from the outside in towards the nipple, making it harden even more to the point that it stung a bit. My breasts felt heavy and my slit was getting wet from the delicate touches. He dropped his right hand from my neck and traced his fingers down to my other breast and began pinching the nipple, making it harden like the other.
Milk began to drip slowly from my left breast, I could hear the tiny drops hitting the inside of the container. The slight sound seemed to echo loudly in my head with my heart beat as I wondered if he knew my slit was wetting itself. His kneading and stroking turned slowly into easy motions that made the milk spray into the container, the first few showers of it made me relax in the chair and drop my head backwards against his right shoulder. The feeling was erotic and very sexual to me as he brought my milk out. He guided my hand to move the container to the other breast as he slowly moved my head onto his other shoulder as he shifted his position a bit and began expressing milk from my right breast. I wanted the feeling to last forever and most of all I felt an urge to reach down and stroke my warm and wet slit as my juices were flowing and wetting my thighs, which up to this point, I had managed to keep clamped together.
Distantly I heard him say, “That should be more than enough for the tests.” And he took the container from me and placed it on the desk which housed the prescription pads and K-Y Jelly and examination gloves as well as a variety of other gynecological paraphernalia. “Please get back on the table now.” These words rang in my head like a gong as I snapped back to reality and fear crept in with its clever stealth. I pulled my sheet back up about me and got back on the table. He pulled out the stirrups that medical supply designers try so hard to cleverly hide, but every woman that has to have an exam knows where they are, and hiding them doesn’t make it any better. I slid down the table and raised my feet into the stirrups without being told. I heard the snaps of latex as he fit the gloves onto his hands around his wrists. I didn’t have to see it to know exactly what he was doing.
The light shifted in the room as he pulled the bright exam lamp down between my legs, its glare blocked somewhat by my sheet as it lay haplessly across my legs, my own private curtain, as I began to stare at the ceiling and noticing a mirror there. His voice seemed distant to me as he began to explain that he was going to examine the outside first, inspect if you will, with the bright lamp heating me there.
My private curtain was pulled aside as he lifted the sheet over my knees and let it fall to lay across my lower stomach so that I could see him. “I find it easier,” he said, “If I have a mirror set up so that patients can see what I am doing.” And with that he briskly stood up and tilted the circular mirror that was suspended from the ceiling so that I could see my most private parts from my supine position with his hands so close. My juices were still flowing steadily across my slit as he first touched me. He placed his fingers on each side of my clit and stroked downward, opening my outer lips and pulling them to the sides. I was blushing again, I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I felt one of his fingers flicker on the hood of my bud, nearly probing it as I felt the hood slide back just a bit, my bud trying to blossom out, on its own accord. It was tingling immensely while he touched my inner lips, spreading them open as well. I could feel the heat from the lamp warming the opening of my pink tunnel even more as he reached for the K-Y jelly and opened it with expertise, one handed, and squeezed a generous amount onto the first two fingers of his right hand.
“This will probably be a bit cold,” he said as he slipped the first, then the second finger into my hot tunnel. I felt the muscles clench down on his fingers as he slid them in deeper until I could feel the first knuckles at his hand against my body. He probed a bit and I flinched when he first touched my sensitive cervix. I could feel him running his fingers around it as he talked about how the cervix usually goes back into normal shape very quickly after childbirth and telling me that mine felt perfectly fine. He moved his other hand to push down on my ovaries so that he could feel them from within and then as he felt the size and shape of my womb. His fingers stroked within me and I fought the natural reaction of raising my hips effectively until his fingers came upon my G-spot and then they raised and nearly thrust down on his fingers. The heat rose in my cheeks even more.
Slowly, stroking and caressing all the while, he withdrew his fingers until only the tips were within me and then he laid his hand nearly flat against my pussy and rubbed the K-Y across its entirety. My clit tingled even more and began to throb in excitement and the blood flowed into my sex and made my lips swell. He rolled back on his chair and reached again to the paraphernalia on the table, I saw him lift a cloth and my eyes beheld that most incorrigible and graceless instrument known to womankind, the ever-cold speculum. And with that sight I promptly closed my thighs together as much as the stirrups would allow and looked again at the ceiling instead of the mirror. He rolled himself back between my legs and said, “Now now, none of that.” As he placed the speculum on the examine table and reached up, using his wrists to pry and guide my thighs open. I resisted as much as logic would allow me and finally allowed my legs to fall open again.
He asked me to scoot myself farther down the table and I did and then with one hand he opened my lips again and put the tip of the speculum to the inlet of my passage and eased the beast into me. It was cold and the muscles within clenched down as if they also wanted nothing to do with such a thing. Yet he managed to slide it in completely and then began to open it. I began to close my thighs together unconsciously again and was gently reprimanded with, “Uh-uh.”
I felt the Q-tip-like swab from hell upon my cervix as he did the pap smear and then more heat as he moved the exam lamp closer and he visually examined my inner parts of my sex. I felt myself pushing down on the speculum, just wanting the damn thing out of my body. It felt like an intruder. “Okay,” he said, “almost done now.” As he turned the instrument back down to normal size and removed it from my tunnel. I looked back into the mirror then as he once again put two fingers into my hot box and thought to myself, “No real need for K-Y if truth be told.” and nearly gasped as I felt first one and then two fingers slide quickly into my ass before I had time to react and hinder the exploration. He pushed his fingers together with my body in between and stroked from my pussy against his fingers in my ass. The first sensations were sharp and painful as the sphincter tried to force his fingers out by clenching down and then faded to uncomfortable into pleasure as he probed deeper and continued to stroke.
He withdrew his fingers from my slick pussy and I watched as he bit the edge of the glove and pulled it off of his hand while he continued stroking his fingers in and out of my ass. I found myself moving against his fingers in a strange rhythm as I heard the zipper of his trousers open and watched as he used one hand to drop them down with his briefs around his ankles. I looked up in the mirror to see his cock standing erect and pulsing against his stomach. I closed my mouth at the sight of it, such a beautiful piece of work it was, full and hard. He grasped it with his free hand and worked it a few times in slow strokes and then, moving closer to me, touched my breasts, kneading them and pinching at the nipples. He pulled his fingers out of my ass and took the glove off in the same manner and used that hand to stroke and pull his manhood to an even greater size than it already was. I began raising my hips towards his cock, craving to have it within the realms of my hot and soaking pussy, wanting to feel every inch of it diving deep within me and bringing pleasure to me far beyond what his talented and professional fingers had already done.
He leaned over and kissed my lips sweetly and then moved to my cheeks that were now hot with passion rather than embarrassment, licking and kissing them and moving smoothly to my ear and sensitive lobes, sucking and nibbling at them and biting gingerly at my neck. He moved his mouth down my neck and I could feel his hot breath on my skin as he reached my breasts at the same time the head of his cock touched my clit and sent my hips straight up as if to impale myself upon him from below. He sucked at my nipples and then with both hands, brought my soft creamy mounds together and licked the line of cleavage with his tongue and from side to side, swirled his hungry tongue about my dark and taught areolas and flicked the tip of his teasing tongue across my hard nipples. I moaned as he pulled his cock away from my throbbing pussy as he moved his head down my stomach and followed his tongue strokes with his hands, caressing my body smoothly. I felt his chin just above my clit, nestled in the cropped hairs of my mound and raised up, presenting my swollen lips and the blossoming bud, out of its hood, to his fiery mouth and flaming tongue. And ah, but he did tease me, kissing my stomach and tracing around my navel, lightly scratching with his nails against the flesh of my hips and the sentient skin that runs from them to the inside of my thighs, making me work my hips and gyrate them in an effort to reach either his mouth, cock, or hands that manipulated my body so well.
And alas, finally, he brought his mouth down upon my fervent and burning cunt and nearly covered it as if to eat me alive and sucked hard at my flowing currents of desire, lapping at my sweet nectar that spilled forth in gushes from his touch. His tongue was like lightning as he licked my slit from top to bottom and back again, barely pausing to thrust it into my wanton cove of velvet delight. My feet came out of the stirrups as I wrapped my legs around the back of his shoulders and neck, pulling his face closer in between my legs and feeling the heat there. My climax was building upon itself like a bonfire as he again, tickling at first, and then probing in turn to force his fingers into my ass. My legs dropped down and his face came up to smother my mouth with deep, animalistic kisses. He moved his hips into mine and I forced the stirrups aside with my thighs as he lunged his throbbing cock from a side angle into my aching sex box while he kept his fingers pumping in and out of my ass.
His strokes were hard and deep as he worked himself from excitement into a frenzy. I half sat up, reaching around my thigh to grab his balls, feeling how tight and drawn up they were to his body. I scratched at them lightly with my nails. My breath was gasping and pushed out of me with his every stroke until I felt light headed while his was sharp and panting as he labored his churning desire in my blazing burrow in its shortened and tightened state. Pushing harder to get deeper, to make my tunnel longer to accommodate the length of his shaft as he pound it into me. I squeezed at his balls and flicked one fingernail across the muscle that led to his asshole, tickling the hair there as I felt his balls rise higher and his thighs and ass harden on a most powerful thrust forward and deep into me as I fell back and felt him explode in glorious relief. His quicker coming strokes striking perfectly against my clit, feeling as if they were bruising the underlying bone, and making my pussy clamp down upon his cock, strong enough to almost stop his thrusts altogether, as I arched my back to offer my hard nipples and ripe breasts to the sky and drove my hips to meet his final plunge as my orgasm came over me, racking my body in waves of unadulterated pleasure to leave me gasping and feeling as if my heart was skipping a few beats. He fell against me, also gasping and moaning between pants for breath.
My box was still clenching at his cock when he pulled out, having already cum explosively, yet still very hard. He stood up straight and pulled his briefs and trousers back up, buttoning and zipping them as if nothing had happened and then turned the overhead lights back on. I composed myself and pulled the sheet back up to near my neck as he gathered up the things he had used and put the speculum in the sterilizer. He wiped the juices and remnants of K-Y away from my sex and off of my thighs and ass and refit my feet to the stirrups as a knock came to the door and then it opened.
Gabrielle, the registered nurse for his practice stepped in. “Dr. Layman, are you ready for the exam now?” she asked, “You know the rules, no exceptions, a nurse has to be present.”
“Yes,” he said, “I think we’re ready now.”
She stepped into place beside him as he sat down and raised the sheet and as I parted my thighs gingerly, my passage opened just enough and the spoils and fruition of his carnal cravings spilled out of my still quivering velvet cove and overflowed upon my slit and down to my ass.
Gabrielle raised her eyebrows skeptically and then suspiciously, leaving only one raised, said, “I see that you look well today Mrs. Layman.”
