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My Prostate Massage : A True Story

A true story about me getting a prostate massage from my doctor.
At the time of the event I was a 42 year old single man living in Silicon Valley. I had not had sex or even been out on a date in several years. This is not uncommon in Silicon Valley as there are very few single women compared to single men and introverted nerds like myself are greatly disadvantaged. I am in good physical shape but on the thin side. I am not particularly handsome but not ugly either. My biggest liability is probably not my looks but my introversion. All in all, in this environment, this means I will not get a date without considerable effort on my part. I also do not masturbate very often; no more than once a month, if that. I guess between work and worrying about the economy I haven't haven't felt very motivated to pursue women or even to masturbate.

For about 15 years I have had some minor health issues that I believed to be prostate related. I get occasional impaired urinary flow; nothing very severe, but noticeable. This waxes and wanes over the years. I've had a few digital rectal prostate exams during these years which were always, surprisingly, normal. Recently, the impairment seemed worse than it usually is and, since I hadn't had a prostate exam in about four years, I decided to make an appointment with my doctor to ease my mind that nothing sinister was developing.

My doctor was a new doctor who I had known for about two years and had seen for a couple of minor issues during that time. This doctor was also a woman doctor -- my first. She was a young doctor, probably in her early thirties. When I first saw her she had just finished her residency and, being a new doctor, was one of the few doctors who were still accepting new patients. When my employer switched health insurance providers my previous doctor, who had a private practice, was no longer "in network" so I picked the new doctor at a nearby large not-for-profit institution which was "in network".

You might say that I had a crush on this doctor. She was young and very attractive. The celebrity she most resembles is probably Anna Torv, the actress who plays Olivia Dunham on the TV series Fringe. I never got a good look at her figure because I've never seen her without her lab coat, but she looked fit under there, and we had discussed fitness before so I knew that she went jogging regularly. Other than that, I had no other personal information about her. She also seemed interested in me. By that I mean that she seemed friendlier and more personal with me than she needed to be. Perhaps this is just a delusion of an introverted nerd, but I'd like to think that she wasn't this way with all her patients. Maybe she was attracted to my intelligence (I do have a Ph.D.). One can hope.

I made an appointment and eventually saw her. I had some reservations about the prostate exam. One one hand, it was probably prudent to get a prostate exam and being examined by my hot doctor was a bit titillating. On the other hand, I liked this doctor and wanted her to have a high opinion of me and, somehow, the idea of her thinking of me as a middle-aged man with prostate problems made me sad. I definitely was not going to ask her to examine my prostate, rather I was going to ask her if she thought I could get a Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) test given my history of intermittent urinary flow problems despite being younger than fifty, which is the age where the PSA test is usually recommended.

I believe they teach doctors in medical school that men don't like prostate exams and that doctors need to be insistent and proactive about this. So far, every doctor I've seen acts this way. As soon as the word "prostate" is mentioned, they are reaching for the gloves and lube. They won't ask if you want the exam or even if you will allow them to perform it; they will demand that you drop your trousers and bend over and will act like you don't even have a choice. My new doctor was no exception. The first mention of "prostate" had her reaching for the gloves and lube.

Needless to say, this exam like all others was not sexy at all. It was over in a matter of seconds. Furthermore, the pressure she used on my prostate was firmer than any male doctor had ever applied. As she pressed down, I could feel the sensation of fluid being squeezed into my urethra. I felt a slight bit of panic that she may have left me dribbling all over the place. I didn't check. I just quickly pulled up my pants. She told me that my prostate was enlarged (oh oh) and she wanted to get a urine sample from me to look for signs of infection. This is the first prostate exam where I've been informed of anything other than a normal finding. She said the nurse would be back to get a urine sample from me and that I should make an appointment to get the PSA test in a couple weeks. She wanted me to wait until sometime after the prostate exam because the exam itself could cause the PSA levels to be high, so we should allow some time for it to go back to my normal levels before the measurement. The nurse led me to the restroom so I could collect a urine sample and there I finally got to check if I was leaking. To my surprise I was not, but when I squeezed my penis a couple drops of milky fluid dripped out. I made the appointment for the PSA test and went home.

In a few days I received a call from my doctor. She said there was blood in my urine sample and she would be referring me to a urologist. She gave me the phone number of the urology office and volunteered that she had gotten good feedback about Doctor N--. She said Doctor M-- was also very good but some patients complained that he could be a bit terse. I called the urology office. Doctor N-- was on vacation and didn't have an opening for a month or so. Doctor M-- had a cancellation and could see me in two days. I made an appointment with Doctor M--.

I went to see the urologist Doctor M--. They had me provide a urine sample before the prostate exam. Doctor M-- is an old man, probably close to 80 years old and this exam is equally unsexy. He wants to squeeze out some prostate fluid to look at under the microscope. He presses down on my prostate and holds a microscope slide at the tip of my penis to capture any fluid, but none comes. He literally grabs my penis and squeezes it once like he's milking a cow to force out a drop of fluid onto his slide. I'm one of those people who produces little if any pre-seminal fluid so I think my urethra tends to be drier than most and, without that lubrication, fluids like semen do not flow out easily. I'm instructed to wait in the doctor's office and am told that he'll be with me after the microscope inspection.

In the doctor's office he explains that he does not see any blood in my prostate fluid or in my urine and that the blood level in my previous urine sample is actually fairly low and could be caused by the prostate exam alone. He explains that my prostate is enlarged but that he believes it to be merely "congestion" and not anything serious. In short, he's not worried about this and says he will write to my doctor to explain his findings. I am relieved by the information provided by the urologist but, as usual, the right questions to ask do not occur to me until later in the day when I realize I should have asked him why I have "congestion" and if I should be doing anything about it. I'm starting to realize why my doctor warned about the urologist's terseness.

The next week I take the PSA test that was ordered by my doctor earlier and await the results. After a week passes without hearing from them I call my doctor's office to inquire about the results. I speak with a nurse who tells me that my doctor has received the report from the urologist and also the results of the PSA test but hasn't reviewed it yet. She asks me if my symptoms have improved and I tell her, of course they have not. I've had urinary flow problems for the past 15 years and I don't expect them to spontaneously resolve without doing anything. She says I should make a follow-up appointment, which I do.

When I see my doctor again she tells me that the PSA test was normal. She has with her the report from the urologist, which is a full type-written page. If he was terse with me, he certainly was not with her. I ask her if anything should be done about the congestion.

She says, "Well, I could massage the prostate to try to squeeze out some of the fluid".

I pause for a second making sure I'm parsing this correctly. Did my hot doctor just offer to give me a prostate massage? She definitely said "I could" and not some abstract "one could". I asked for clarification.

"Um... How do you mean?", I said.

She says, "I could massage the prostate to try to decongest it, which might shrink the size and help with the urine flow. Do you want to try that?".

My brain is screaming Yes! Yes!. I say, "Um.. If you think that could help".

She hands me a gown and instructs me to strip from the waist down, including underwear. She says she'll be back in a bit and leaves the examination room.

She's gone a long time. What is she doing? Multi-tasking with another patient? Catching up on email? Here I am wearing nothing but a t-shirt and one of those horrible gowns that opens in the back, sitting on a paper-covered examination table in a cold room, waiting for what seems like 10 minutes for my doctor to return. This is not sexy at all.

She finally returns and slides the curtain closed which separates the door from the rest of the room. She instructs me to take off the gown and get down on my knees and elbows on the examination table with my legs spread apart slightly. She places a paper towel under my penis "to catch the drips". Here I am on knees and elbows with my ass up in the air as my doctor puts on her latex gloves and gets out the tube of lube. My preposterous position here gets me slightly aroused. Not an erection as I'm still flaccid, but with that fullness that makes it seem like you've got a bigger penis than you actually do. I'm thinking that is a nice way for her to see my penis and I hope it stays like that.

And, she's in... She's making swiping motions over my prostate with her finger using pressure that's firmer than would have occurred to me to use. Almost immediately I feel the sensation of fluid being pushed into my urethra. She is periodically peering around to check for fluid at the tip of my penis while continuing to stroke my prostate. I feel myself starting to get aroused and begin to panic a little as I develop a weak erection.

She surely notices this and I say, "Um... I think I'm starting to... Um...".

Yes, she notices. "That can happen", she says nonchalantly and doesn't seem to be fazed by it at all, so I decide not to worry about it and begin to concentrate on the sensations instead. Each stroke gives a delicious sensation deep inside me. I concentrate on each stroke and tense up in anticipation of the next one trying to make it feel more pleasurable than the last one. I actually start thinking about my situation here. Here I am mostly naked on knees and elbows with my ass up in the air with my hot doctor's finger deep in my ass massaging my prostate. I have a full-on erection by this point, anticipating the next stroke and trying to will the sensations to be stronger and stronger. I'm not sure how long this has been going on but it must have been at least a couple minutes. All this time she's periodically peering around to look for fluid at the tip of my penis. "I'm not seeing any fluid coming out", she says. I tell her that the urologist couldn't get any out either and actually had to squeeze the penis to get some out.

She reaches around with her left hand and just short of grabbing my penis she asks, "can I try?".

"Yes", I say and she grabs my fully-erect penis by the base and squeezes firmly. Then continues to move her hand along my penis toward the head squeezing each time like she's trying to squeeze something out of it. As she's squeezing the head, a couple drops drip out just as I feel myself go past the point of no return. She moves her hand back to the base of my penis and squeezes again like she's going to repeat the squeezing motion along my penis as I start to cum. I give her no warning.

I hear the sharp intake of air as she gasps when she first realizes that I'm climaxing and she freezes. And there she was with a finger from her right hand deep in my anus resting on my prostate and her left hand still firmly gripping the base of my penis as I ejaculate like only a guy who hasn't ejaculated in over a month can, spurting again and again onto the paper towel she placed underneath my penis earlier, leaving a pool that must have been about 3" across. I'm not sure how long I spent ejaculating but it seemed longer than usual and probably seemed like an eternity for her.

After I finished she said, "Well, something certainly came out that time", clearly flustered and embarrassed. She carefully threw away the paper towel that was covered with my ejaculate and handed me a box of tissues I could use to get cleaned up. She was blushing and avoided eye contact. She left the room to let me get cleaned up. She came back and quickly wrapped things up. I don't remember exactly what she said, but it was something like "Well, I hope you have less of a problem with this going forward. Good luck".

I said, "Thanks" and left.

I've been playing this event over and over in my head nearly every day and there are still some things I'm trying to figure out about it. I have a lot of questions. Did she ever give a prostate massage before? The confidence in her technique implied familiarity. Did the urologist suggest prostate massage as a potential solution and, if so, was it really implied that she should do it or rather that I should be attempting it in the privacy of my own home? She approached this in a very clinical and professional way and kept up that appearance almost to the end.

Was she really so comfortable that this was clinical and professional even while I had a raging erection? Was she really so unfazed about grabbing my erect penis or was she just trying to be professional and soldier on through it? Surely, at some point she must have had the thought that this act was not merely medical but also at least somewhat sexual and that I was being both aroused and pleasured? Did it not occur to her that this procedure could lead to me having an orgasm? She seemed shocked and unprepared for that conclusion. I don't know much about her personal life.

As far as I know, she could be married with children but, to be frank, she just anally pleasured to orgasm a male patient in her office. When she thinks back to this incident, is she aroused, horrified or something else? I don't think I'll ever know the answers to these questions. I've not been back to see her. Not that I didn't want to, but because I've relocated out of Silicon Valley and don't anticipate ever returning. In the meantime, I revisit the experience in my mind nearly every night.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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