Sextus
10-11-2012, 03:58 PM
A couple of weeks ago I decided to take Ilovefs’s wise advice that he had mentioned in one of his reports, of having an std check at Sydney Hospital’s Nightingale wing every three months.
I’ve never done this before, or for that matter have needed to, never having had an std in my life. I was only doing this to clear the air for the next three months. Because I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but I was feeling a very slight tingle in the old fella now and then. But I should say up front that I turned out to be as clean as a whistle.
At the hospital desk you punch in your own information into a touch screen, and then wait in the waiting room for your name to be called. If you are lucky (as I was) you might also see in the waitng room a couple of wl’s in sexy street clothes - tight jeans and pretty blouses - in there for their own regular screening and check up.
I tell you guys, this is a rare sight, and wl’s out of their working clobber and in street clothes are a hot sight, especially when you know what it is that they do for a living. Which is to make guys come. Make guys (just like me) come. So that is what I was thinking about as I looked at them and admired them.
But if you are unlucky (as I was) you’ll also be eyed by a 50 something, tall, slim gay, who decided I fit right into his profile, being not too much younger than he was, and also having no surplus fat on me to speak of. And I was sitting in an std clinic too.
“Must surely be gay,” I could see he was thinking, “because every hetero has surely let himself go by this age.”
In the meantime the two tasty wl girls were called away, which just left the two of us in there. I prevented any flirty chitchat from happening by burying my face in the nearest magazine I could grab, which, unfortunately, turned out to be TV Soap.
“Oops, wrong move,” I thought, so I reached instead for Top Gear (even if I’m not much into cars either.)
But my name was called before I was halfway through the first article, and I stood up and was led into the consulting room.
Here I was interviewed by the nurse about my sexual history. She was a twenty something, attractive, slim, bob haired, green eyed caucasion lady.
To be truthful, I found it difficult to be completely honest with her about this because of her pretty appearance and her youth. In fact, though I didn’t plan this, I squibbed totally at her inevitable question that arose about whether I visited “sex workers” (unfortunate politcally correct term, our “working lady” term is so much nicer don’t you think?) So Instead, I manufactured on the spot some history of being on the singles scene and being prone to having one night stands. Not too far from the truth! I don’t know how convincing I was about this, because it didn’t sound too convincing even to myself, but she nevertheless dutifully tapped my information into the computer.
When the questioning was over she asked:
“So what would you like us to do today?”
I told her that it might be my imagination, but I was feeling, off and on, a slight tingle in my (never married) tackle and that I would like to be checked out for the usual suspects.
“Well, you’ll have to provide a urine sample, and I’ll also have to examine you.”
“Oops” I thought “Here we go again.”
Another attractive medical lady that I have to get my kit off for, for an intimate examination. I mean, this is exactly the same kind of thing that I regularly pay for, but I have to tell you fellas, context is everything! It makes all the difference!
She indicated for me to move over to the examination bed and to remove my pants and underwear. I quipped that “I had come prepared and wasn’t wearing any,” and she gave a bit of an (unprofessional) giggle at that.
She then pulled a translucent curtain around the bed so that I could disrobe in private. I thought that was little strange. She was going to burst through those curtains, only after I had taken everything off! I struggled to understand what she was avoiding seeing now that she was going to see so soon anyway. But I smiled at the polite form, and got out of my strides and lay on the bed just wearing my partly opened shirt. (Once again more naked than a man who isn’t wearing anything at all.)
Through the translucent curtains I could see her silhouette against the bright sunlit walls of the room as she made her preparations. I watched her snap on some surgical gloves and then ask me if I was ready. I told her “I was” and she took that as her cue to part the curtains and enter my formerly private space.
“I’ll have to first examine the lymph nodes in your groin,” she informed me, and taking my penis in hamd and layiing it aside, she proceeded to prod and examine that area.
“No pain there?” she asked.
“No pain at all,” I assured her.
“What about here then?” she asked, taking my entire ball sack in hand and lightly kneading and separating out the balls within it. (Depending on who you may get, these std clinics aren’t half fun actually!)
Cupped in the warmth of her twentysomething hand, I watched as my balls moved and shifted a little under their own steam in her hand, and I assured her there was no pain there at all – just the opposite! Though I didn’t tell her that last bit, I only thought it. This, fellas, may not have been as good as the Indian lady doctor vigorously reaming my arsehole out with a lubed finger in her consulting room a couple of weeks ago, but hey! I didn’t have to put my hand in my pocket for that either!
Satisfied with her examination of my ball sack, she pulled the skin of my shaft down tightly so that she could get a good look at the head of my cock. Manipulating it around like a hand puppet, she leant down and looked at it so closely, that I imagined I could almost feel her warm breath on it. I could certainly feel her nice green eyes on it, and I have to tell you that Percy looked right back at her, without even so much as a blush.
“Hmm, good, good,” she commented. “No redness, no irritation there at all.”
I agreed with her about that, and added again that this might have all been in my imagination. Then with a final practised flip of her wrist she released my dick, which fortunately had remained almost totally deflated, though not quite I'm ashamed to say.
“Well, we are done here,” she said. “You can put your jeans back on and then we’ll be right to collect your urine sample.”
I put the jeans back on while she pulled the curtain back and handed me a small jar to piss into.
“Just the first amount of it,” she instructed.
Never having given a urine sample before, I unzipped myself to follow her instructions, but she quickly interrupted to say,:
“No, no, you have to go into the toilet to do that!”
“Oh - sorry about that.”
I quickly exited and returned a minute later with the warm sample in the jar. She held it up to the light and swilled it around like an educated wine sommelier and commented that it was “Nice and clear. That is another good sign.”
Well, I had got nothing but encouraging words from her so far. But then she told me that it could take up to two weeks for the test results to come back and that until they did come back, I had to abstain from all sexual activity.
That was last Monday week, and today, Friday the 10th of November, I finally got my all clear results. So I am right to go!
But while I have been waiting for these results to come back, I have also been reading about your sexual adventures on the forum. Consequently, having had to abstain for so long, my balls are like two tins of Fussell’s Milk, and I am incredibly desperate to explode them into my chosen 64 girl this weekend. Oh Jesus, I do want and need that at the moment.
“Oh, you come too much!”
Yes indeed I will, and I’ll also be enjoying some very wet, and some very internal spaces, very soon. I do love the concept of a guaranteed fuck. And by the time you read this, it is likely to have already happened, and my discharged balls will be in the act of recharging themselves once more like a nicad battery. It is lucky our balls do recharge themselves, otherwise we’d all only be able to have sex once in our lifetime.
And so, my forum friends, you can be sure that I will offer you the after report of this when it occurs.
(Ps. And please, for all of we brothers’ sakes, regularly follow as an active punter, Ilovefs’s wise advice to have three monthly urine check ups. It is very simple, and your local anonymous bulk bill medical centre is fine for that. I’m sure Ilovefs won’t mind me speaking for him when I say we both thank you for your thoughfulness, self-care, and your care for we, your brothers, and definitely for the girls who look after us and care for us so well too.)
I’ve never done this before, or for that matter have needed to, never having had an std in my life. I was only doing this to clear the air for the next three months. Because I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but I was feeling a very slight tingle in the old fella now and then. But I should say up front that I turned out to be as clean as a whistle.
At the hospital desk you punch in your own information into a touch screen, and then wait in the waiting room for your name to be called. If you are lucky (as I was) you might also see in the waitng room a couple of wl’s in sexy street clothes - tight jeans and pretty blouses - in there for their own regular screening and check up.
I tell you guys, this is a rare sight, and wl’s out of their working clobber and in street clothes are a hot sight, especially when you know what it is that they do for a living. Which is to make guys come. Make guys (just like me) come. So that is what I was thinking about as I looked at them and admired them.
But if you are unlucky (as I was) you’ll also be eyed by a 50 something, tall, slim gay, who decided I fit right into his profile, being not too much younger than he was, and also having no surplus fat on me to speak of. And I was sitting in an std clinic too.
“Must surely be gay,” I could see he was thinking, “because every hetero has surely let himself go by this age.”
In the meantime the two tasty wl girls were called away, which just left the two of us in there. I prevented any flirty chitchat from happening by burying my face in the nearest magazine I could grab, which, unfortunately, turned out to be TV Soap.
“Oops, wrong move,” I thought, so I reached instead for Top Gear (even if I’m not much into cars either.)
But my name was called before I was halfway through the first article, and I stood up and was led into the consulting room.
Here I was interviewed by the nurse about my sexual history. She was a twenty something, attractive, slim, bob haired, green eyed caucasion lady.
To be truthful, I found it difficult to be completely honest with her about this because of her pretty appearance and her youth. In fact, though I didn’t plan this, I squibbed totally at her inevitable question that arose about whether I visited “sex workers” (unfortunate politcally correct term, our “working lady” term is so much nicer don’t you think?) So Instead, I manufactured on the spot some history of being on the singles scene and being prone to having one night stands. Not too far from the truth! I don’t know how convincing I was about this, because it didn’t sound too convincing even to myself, but she nevertheless dutifully tapped my information into the computer.
When the questioning was over she asked:
“So what would you like us to do today?”
I told her that it might be my imagination, but I was feeling, off and on, a slight tingle in my (never married) tackle and that I would like to be checked out for the usual suspects.
“Well, you’ll have to provide a urine sample, and I’ll also have to examine you.”
“Oops” I thought “Here we go again.”
Another attractive medical lady that I have to get my kit off for, for an intimate examination. I mean, this is exactly the same kind of thing that I regularly pay for, but I have to tell you fellas, context is everything! It makes all the difference!
She indicated for me to move over to the examination bed and to remove my pants and underwear. I quipped that “I had come prepared and wasn’t wearing any,” and she gave a bit of an (unprofessional) giggle at that.
She then pulled a translucent curtain around the bed so that I could disrobe in private. I thought that was little strange. She was going to burst through those curtains, only after I had taken everything off! I struggled to understand what she was avoiding seeing now that she was going to see so soon anyway. But I smiled at the polite form, and got out of my strides and lay on the bed just wearing my partly opened shirt. (Once again more naked than a man who isn’t wearing anything at all.)
Through the translucent curtains I could see her silhouette against the bright sunlit walls of the room as she made her preparations. I watched her snap on some surgical gloves and then ask me if I was ready. I told her “I was” and she took that as her cue to part the curtains and enter my formerly private space.
“I’ll have to first examine the lymph nodes in your groin,” she informed me, and taking my penis in hamd and layiing it aside, she proceeded to prod and examine that area.
“No pain there?” she asked.
“No pain at all,” I assured her.
“What about here then?” she asked, taking my entire ball sack in hand and lightly kneading and separating out the balls within it. (Depending on who you may get, these std clinics aren’t half fun actually!)
Cupped in the warmth of her twentysomething hand, I watched as my balls moved and shifted a little under their own steam in her hand, and I assured her there was no pain there at all – just the opposite! Though I didn’t tell her that last bit, I only thought it. This, fellas, may not have been as good as the Indian lady doctor vigorously reaming my arsehole out with a lubed finger in her consulting room a couple of weeks ago, but hey! I didn’t have to put my hand in my pocket for that either!
Satisfied with her examination of my ball sack, she pulled the skin of my shaft down tightly so that she could get a good look at the head of my cock. Manipulating it around like a hand puppet, she leant down and looked at it so closely, that I imagined I could almost feel her warm breath on it. I could certainly feel her nice green eyes on it, and I have to tell you that Percy looked right back at her, without even so much as a blush.
“Hmm, good, good,” she commented. “No redness, no irritation there at all.”
I agreed with her about that, and added again that this might have all been in my imagination. Then with a final practised flip of her wrist she released my dick, which fortunately had remained almost totally deflated, though not quite I'm ashamed to say.
“Well, we are done here,” she said. “You can put your jeans back on and then we’ll be right to collect your urine sample.”
I put the jeans back on while she pulled the curtain back and handed me a small jar to piss into.
“Just the first amount of it,” she instructed.
Never having given a urine sample before, I unzipped myself to follow her instructions, but she quickly interrupted to say,:
“No, no, you have to go into the toilet to do that!”
“Oh - sorry about that.”
I quickly exited and returned a minute later with the warm sample in the jar. She held it up to the light and swilled it around like an educated wine sommelier and commented that it was “Nice and clear. That is another good sign.”
Well, I had got nothing but encouraging words from her so far. But then she told me that it could take up to two weeks for the test results to come back and that until they did come back, I had to abstain from all sexual activity.
That was last Monday week, and today, Friday the 10th of November, I finally got my all clear results. So I am right to go!
But while I have been waiting for these results to come back, I have also been reading about your sexual adventures on the forum. Consequently, having had to abstain for so long, my balls are like two tins of Fussell’s Milk, and I am incredibly desperate to explode them into my chosen 64 girl this weekend. Oh Jesus, I do want and need that at the moment.
“Oh, you come too much!”
Yes indeed I will, and I’ll also be enjoying some very wet, and some very internal spaces, very soon. I do love the concept of a guaranteed fuck. And by the time you read this, it is likely to have already happened, and my discharged balls will be in the act of recharging themselves once more like a nicad battery. It is lucky our balls do recharge themselves, otherwise we’d all only be able to have sex once in our lifetime.
And so, my forum friends, you can be sure that I will offer you the after report of this when it occurs.
(Ps. And please, for all of we brothers’ sakes, regularly follow as an active punter, Ilovefs’s wise advice to have three monthly urine check ups. It is very simple, and your local anonymous bulk bill medical centre is fine for that. I’m sure Ilovefs won’t mind me speaking for him when I say we both thank you for your thoughfulness, self-care, and your care for we, your brothers, and definitely for the girls who look after us and care for us so well too.)