It was a chilly December evening in 2009, and I had been feeling under the weather for a couple of days. Struck by a persistent cold and fever peaking at 101°F, a relative of mine decided it was time to consult our local doctor.
He recommended me to a local doctor whose private clinic was near my home. It was 8.30 pm when I parked my car in front of his clinic and went in. (I was 19 years old, young, and hairless, at that time)
His clinic was a throwback to the '90s, complete with aged furniture, dim lighting, and faded posters adorning the walls.
After a 30-minute wait in his reception area, his assistant guided me into his consultation room. The doctor, a man in his 60s with a modest stature of 5 feet 5 inches and a thinning crown, welcomed me warmly. He gestured for me to sit close for my examination across his well-worn doctor's desk, behind which was a secluded examination bed shielded by curtains.
Post the preliminary check-up, where I told my symptoms, the doctor directed me towards the bed behind the curtains. He started talking with his assistant while I prepared on the bed as instructed.
He then approached, drawing the curtains closed behind him, and asked me to unbutton my shirt for the stethoscope exam. As I complied, the familiar cold touch of the stethoscope met my chest—a routine beginning. However, the normalcy faded when he moved the instrument over my areola, his fingers unexpectedly pinching my nipples briefly.
The sensation was surprising yet strangely thrilling. He continued his examination, pressing along different areas of my chest, his thumbs probing my sides, igniting an unexpected arousal in me. (He pressed my Kidnies which made me super hard)
Feeling the unexpected hardness, he casually suggested checking my abdomen, instructing me to loosen my pants. Confused but obedient, I did as told, only for him to lower them slightly, revealing my evident arousal.
He examined me thoroughly, his gaze fixed, and I felt a wave of anxiety mixed with an intense thrill. His touch migrated to my inner thighs, brushing against my scrotum, and in a moment of overwhelming sensation, I reached a peak of ecstasy and blew my load.
He handed me a tissue immediately after, and I quickly composed myself, readjusting my clothes and returning to my seat, heart still racing from the encounter.
That visit, which I remember clearly, was the first of many, each one just as memorable. If you're interested in hearing about them, I might share details of other visits depending on the likes and comments this thread receives.
He recommended me to a local doctor whose private clinic was near my home. It was 8.30 pm when I parked my car in front of his clinic and went in. (I was 19 years old, young, and hairless, at that time)
His clinic was a throwback to the '90s, complete with aged furniture, dim lighting, and faded posters adorning the walls.
After a 30-minute wait in his reception area, his assistant guided me into his consultation room. The doctor, a man in his 60s with a modest stature of 5 feet 5 inches and a thinning crown, welcomed me warmly. He gestured for me to sit close for my examination across his well-worn doctor's desk, behind which was a secluded examination bed shielded by curtains.
Post the preliminary check-up, where I told my symptoms, the doctor directed me towards the bed behind the curtains. He started talking with his assistant while I prepared on the bed as instructed.
He then approached, drawing the curtains closed behind him, and asked me to unbutton my shirt for the stethoscope exam. As I complied, the familiar cold touch of the stethoscope met my chest—a routine beginning. However, the normalcy faded when he moved the instrument over my areola, his fingers unexpectedly pinching my nipples briefly.
The sensation was surprising yet strangely thrilling. He continued his examination, pressing along different areas of my chest, his thumbs probing my sides, igniting an unexpected arousal in me. (He pressed my Kidnies which made me super hard)
Feeling the unexpected hardness, he casually suggested checking my abdomen, instructing me to loosen my pants. Confused but obedient, I did as told, only for him to lower them slightly, revealing my evident arousal.
He examined me thoroughly, his gaze fixed, and I felt a wave of anxiety mixed with an intense thrill. His touch migrated to my inner thighs, brushing against my scrotum, and in a moment of overwhelming sensation, I reached a peak of ecstasy and blew my load.
He handed me a tissue immediately after, and I quickly composed myself, readjusting my clothes and returning to my seat, heart still racing from the encounter.
That visit, which I remember clearly, was the first of many, each one just as memorable. If you're interested in hearing about them, I might share details of other visits depending on the likes and comments this thread receives.
