Author's Note: I've never written from the POV of a woman before, but I like this character and have a love story in mind for her.

I entered the exam room and saw the patient, Mr. P, for the first time. He was 54 years old and seemed to be in pretty good shape. I checked his blood pressure and pulse, both of which were a little high, but that's to be expected given the subject we would soon be talking about. The moment of truth arrived when I asked, "So, what are we seeing you for today?"

"Well, uhhh, erectile dysfunction."

Of course I already knew this because the scheduler asked the purpose for the visit when Mr. P made the appointment. I would not be there if that wasn't the reason, but I like to test patients for honesty and willingness to discuss their sexual difficulties before they see the doctor.

My name is Celeste and I am a part-time assistant to a Doctor F whom you may be acquainted with from the Ultrasonic Orgasm story. I also assist many other doctors. You could say I'm a nurse, but that wouldn't cover it. I'm an RN, but I'm also a pharmacist and a physical therapist specialing in male sexual function. How I got to this specialty and this set of medical skills is a long story, but for now, let's just say that it probably had a lot to do with the fact that my mother was 25 years younger than my father. Or maybe it's that my father died when I was 12. Or maybe it's because, when I was 16 and had just discovered cocks, I overheard my mother tell a friend that my father had been impotent for the last 11 years of his life. So now I have a thing for older men and especially those with ED. I think it's a rotten trick that so many older men have ED long before they otherwise lose the ability to screw.

I'm 29 years old and I have two young children, I was married and then widowed and now I'm married again to an older man who was one of my first ED patients. I'm 5' 2" tall and weigh 110 pounds. I have long straight dark hair and I'm often told that I'm attractive, but of course, I could stand to lose a few pounds. A friend once told me that I'm carrying just enough extra weight to make me a fun person. This is the same friend who long ago nicknamed me "Sister Celeste" despite the fact that I'm not Catholic, simply because I remained a virgin longer than her and most of our other Catholic friends. From an early age I was fascinated by cocks and I especially liked to see cum squirting from them, so I readily gave blowjobs to the guys I dated, but I saved my virginity until I met my late husband in college.

I mentioned that I assist a number of doctors. There are several clinics out here in the sticks where I prefer to live. There's also a high percentage of retired men who visit these clinics. So, I approached the local GPs and family practice doctors and explained that I specialize in physical therapy for men with ED. As a consultant, I also help the doctors to diagnose the cause of the symptom as an alternative to simply referring every case to a urologist or endocrinologist. I explained that I get physical data that is more reliable than they can get solely through discussion with the patient, because so many guys are just too embarrassed to be honest about this sensitive subject. I told them how I do what I do and why that is diagnostically confirmatory with the results of other testing they might order. I explained that I can offer them more confidence in treating the wave of baby boomer men who will be seeking treatment. Some of the doctors like my approach and some don't. One called it "thinly veiled prostitution", but since my clients are limited to ED patients, I can justify my treatments as holistic medicine. Aside from a clientele that needs regular treatments, I usually get 2 or 3 diagnostic consults per month. I also pick up nursing shifts when the rural clinics that I'm associated with are temporarily understaffed and I take pharmacy shifts as a temp. I like Dr. F because she seems to recognize my special expertise and see me as a colleague rather a subordinate. A surprising number of male doctors seem to downplay the importance of this aspect of men's health, but Dr. F agrees that improving the quality of life is as important as imroving the quantity.

"How long has this been an issue, Mr. P?" This was the first of a long series of questions, many of which the doctors wouldn't think to ask, but when I asked Mr. P whether his most recent orgasm was accompanied by an erection, it became clear that he guessed that I was not a regular nurse taking a routine patient history. That's when I explained about my role as a consulting diagnostic assistant to the doctor. The patient seemed comfortable with my explanation and when we got through the rest of the questions, I told him that since he hadn't seen the doctor in several years, she would need to give him a general physical exam, but that I would possibly be seeing him a little later. I then told him to remove all of his clothing and put on an exam gown when I left the room and that the doctor would see him shortly.

While the doctor listened to his chest and looked up his nose and stuck her finger in his butt and gave his genitals a thorough exam and explained the causes and treatment options for ED, I changed into lingerie and threw on scrubs over that. When she returned from the exam room, she smiled and said that patient was on the exam table for his resting BP reading. This meant that I was authorized to offer my treatment.

I found the patient lying flat on his back on the exam table. This is a very wide table that is lower to the ground and has extra padding because it is used when any of the clinic's doctors sees very obese patients. It suits my purposes because it's as wide as a single bed. I took the resting BP reading and then drew the blood samples for analyses of his cholesterol and testosterone levels. Then I put on my game face and started selling the treatment.

"Mr. P, in order to get a diagnosis it would be helpful if we could get a semen sample. It would also be helpful if I could use my specialty to test the functionality of your parts. This would involve using some drugs that wake up the things that might be sleeping. This basically means that I will discover how to give you an erection and trigger an orgasm. I use a variety of methods, but the most reliable and diagnostically revealing is to have safe sex with you. This all might seem sort of unusual, but with the large number of aging men in our society, the medical profession is adapting to be able to assist them in having happy lives. I see from your records that you're married. If you're worried that this would be cheating on your wife, please understand that this is a medical procedure to help get your penis working again for her as well as for you. You might not want to tell her about it because this practice is controversial. This is a private matter between you, me and your doctor. This procedure normally takes about an hour and the doctor may see you afterward. Does this sound like something you would be interested in?"

Of course he answered yes. I offered him a medical excuse for sex with a woman 25 years younger than him. Men are all dogs beneath the layer of civility that we impose on them, but that's why we like them. Marital fidelity has its uses, but there are times when we can let them play. I explained a few rules that we would need to observe in order to keep this treatment medically ethical and otherwise professional. His semen would be collected in a condom, I would wear exam gloves, I would be in the driver's seat, etc. After he agreed to all of those, I said, "So let's see if I can charm your snake."

I sat on a stool beside the table and reached up under his exam gown. His cock was entirely limp, but it also was retracted into a nest of pubic hair. The shaft was only about a half-inch long at the top, so I placed only one finger opposite my thumb and began to gently roll and stroke it. After about a minute, it had stretched so that two fingers were now on the underside with my thumb on the upper side, but it was clear that it was not hardening. With my free hand, I began to unbutton my shirt and this drew his eyes immediately to what was becoming exposed. I shrugged out of the sleeve so that one of my breasts was exposed to him.

I moved the other side of the shirt aside and began to caress my nipple so that he could see it harden through my sheer black bra. His attention was riveted on me, but his cock still wasn't hardening. He looked distressed and said, "Sorry", but I assured him that this was actually good.

"Does this feel pleasant, unpleasant or mostly neither."

"Mostly neither."

So far his response was just what I expected. I released his cock and finished removing my shirt. Then I gave him the first injection.

"This is essentially Viagra, but it will work much more quickly because it's being directly injected." I pulled the flaps of his exam gown aside so that I could actually see his genitals for the first time. I knew that he only had one testicle due to an accident decades earlier, so the scar on his scrotum was no surprise. Everything otherwise looked normal. His fine soft pubic hair was almost completely gray, but it still retained some of the light brown color from his youth. His belly was a little flabby, but his legs looked strong. His cock had no abnormalities, except for being short and persistently limp.

I began to stroke him again and this time he responded. His cock grew slowly until the shaft was more than four inches long and the head filled out nicely.

"The snake is rising," I said with a smile. "How does this feel?"

"Sorta pleasant, but not really erotic. It's like it isn't fully connected to my brain."

I stood as I was stroking him and let my pants fall to the floor. I was wearing sheer black panties that matched my bra. I was also wearing black thigh-high stockings. His eyes riveted now on my shaved pussy and I could tell that he saw something under the fabric that piqued his curiosity. It was a tattoo that I had gotten when I went a little wild one night not long after my husband had died. I'm pretty sure he couldn't make out what it was, but I drew his attention away by removing my bra. I turned around then to retrieve the next drug from the desk behind me and I heard him gasp as he saw that my panties were thong style.

"Do you like my ass?"

"Yes, it's quite attractive."

"Well, thank you. I could probably get the semen sample now, but diagnostically, we haven't ruled some things out and I'm sure we both want to get the little head reconnected to the big head. This next drug is a euphoriant. It will make you feel a little drunk and happy. Just breathe through this mask." I strapped the mask to his face and set the tank in a drawer on the side of the exam table. Then I resumed stroking his cock gently. This drug disconnected the moral inhibitors in his brain. It was a little risky to use it but it would prevent him from being impeded by any guilt about doing this with me. It also had the effect of softening his erection some, so I resumed stroking it. I gradually cut off the flow to the mask and then removed it.

"How do you feel now."

"Fine," he said with a silly grin.

"Does your snake feel any better?"

"Not really, but I feel really good."

This was exactly what I wanted to hear. If the euphoriant had caused him to harden more or increase his desire, that would indicate a psychological block was present. The prime suspect now was a low testosterone level. His blood test results would confirm that, but the final drug I would use would give him a brief spike in testosterone and his response to that would determine whether he could achieve truly satisfying orgasms or whether he would spend the rest of his life without them.

I normally limited my patients to age 60+ because they were less prone to aggression and frankly weaker and less dangerous when the testosterone kicked in. Since Mr. P was only 54 and fairly strong still, I lowered the dosage, but then I explained to Mr. P that the final injection makes some men overly aggressive, so I asked for permission to restrain his wrists. He looked dubious about that, but I promised that I would let him loose quickly after the spike in his T level passed. I can't describe what he felt, so I'll give you a transcription of a recording I made when I once asked another patient to describe it.

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"It was magical. One minute my world was dim and the next it was bright. My sense of smell suddenly became awfully important. I could smell your perfume, your shampoo, your pussy, and my cock. I thought I could hear your heartbeat and the blood coursing through your veins. The thumping of my own heartbeat was getting louder and suddenly I had an overwhelming desire to either fuck you or hit you.

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After injecting him I quickly slipped the condom onto his rod, dropped my panties and climbed above him in the cowgirl position. I could tell right when the drug kicked in. His whole attitude toward me changed. He looked into my eyes like he was either going to fuck me, strangle me or consume me like a rare steak. It was my job as a professional to guide his choice. I slid myself down on his cock and started to ride him. I should probably explain that I always get really aroused by giving my treatments, so I was quite wet long before I climbed on him. He was ready and fully connected to his cock now, so his new hormone-fueled energy was channeled into my pussy.

"The snake is alert," I said with a smile. He looked down then and saw my tattoo. It was the flared neck and head of a cobra, rising up out of my slit. It was about an inch and half tall and about as wide as my thumb. It had smiling red female human lips and was winking one eye. Mr. P smiled and began to slowly roll his hips so that our snakes could writhe together. He didn't have a porn-star cock, but it was enough that I could feel it and I felt a slow steady buildup to orgasm begin.

I rode him and watched as his eyes wandered around me. He seemed to like what he was seeing. I knew that his senses were all hyper-alert. He could smell and see better and he could probably hear the blood pumping through his arteries. The effects of the euphoriant were decreasing but he was now becoming happy without that. I started to moan and matched his pace as he started to thrust into me faster. He began to moan and I could tell he was close to cumming so I allowed my moans to get a little louder. Soon his thrusts were slamming into me as he released his semen into the condom, but he could tell I was close so he kept up the pace. "Ohhh that's good. I'm close. Ohh, I'm cumminnnnnnggggg."

When I was spent, he was still hard inside me. This isn't unusual for a guy with that combination of drugs, so I tentatively bounced up and down on his rod and said, "Hmmmm, it feels like you might want to add a little more to that sample. Would you like to do me doggy style?"

"Ohhh, yes. That would be fantastic."

I knew that the danger of excessive aggression was past, so I climbed off of his stiffy and released the wrist restraints. We got up from the table and I stepped up onto the step that the shorter patients use to get onto the exam table and bent over the padded edge. He inserted his hard cock back into me and I reached down and began to massage my clit. I told him that it was okay for him to grasp my hips and he was soon thrusting into me at his own pace. He started out slow and languid, but he soon built up to a rhythm that gave me another orgasm and then he stiffened and added another load of cum to the condom.

When he pulled out of me I ceremoniously removed the condom and tied a knot in it to keep the sample in. Then I washed the outside in the sink and dropped it into a specimen cup. I got dressed again and told him he could clean himself up with the towels at the sink, but to stay in the gown until I checked with the doctor. He thanked me for restoring his hope. After I left, I threw the sample into the nearest medical waste bucket. It had no value for diagnostic purposes, but it provided a great excuse for fucking him.

I told Dr. F that his testosterone level would be quite low and that he would need injections or gel to boost it up. I also suggested that she try him on the daily low dose of Cialis. She thanked me and I left, my good deed for the day was done.