My wife wasn’t getting pregnant. She had an exam, then some tests in the hospital, and as far as they could tell, it wasn’t her. So, she made me an appointment with a urologist. I don’t even like regular medical exams, so I knew I certainly wouldn’t like this one. But sometimes in life, one has to face the facts. I wasn’t particularly fearful, because it wasn’t like he was going to say I had a deadly disease or anything, but he might have to do painful tests or something. I also did have a concern that I might be sterile, which would shoot the hell out of my plans of teaching my kids baseball, bike riding, or bringing up lovely daughters. I guess I could adopt. But, I’m getting off topic.
So, I go to this guy, and I almost laughed. He was short and overweight, with a friendly Brooklyn accent. If anyone has seen that Netflix series with Alan Arkin and Michael Douglas, The Kominski Method, you’d know why. He wasn’t the spitting image of Danny DeVito, but sort of close. Actually, he was almost normal height. Anyway, after filling out a ridiculously long questionnaire, and a brief interview with the guy, in which he asked some rather personal questions, like how often do Claire and I have sex, how often do I masturbate, how often do I go naked, what kind of underwear do I like, do I have trouble maintaining erections, and so on, it was time to drop my pants.
I should mention that I wasn’t particularly embarrassed to say that my wife and I have sex once or twice a week, but was very set back by having to admit that I masturbate almost every day. Doctor Stevens put me at ease when he mentioned that most married guys jerk off more often than they have sex. I never knew that, and had always felt there was something off about my desire to wank so much. He also mentioned that frequent masturbation has been proven to have health benefits.
He felt my balls with gloved hands, he pulled my foreskin back and looked in my peehole. Oddly, I chubbed up a little bit with this fairly ugly man, ten years older than me, holding my dick. Go figure! Now that was embarrassing. He dropped my dick and wrote something on an iPad. Returning to me, he put something cold and slimy on my asshole, then stuck a chubby finger in me and probed around. It actually felt rather nice, especially when he pressed on my prostate. Not painful. Comforting in a way. He pulled out way too soon, in my opinion. When he was done, my penis was almost fully erect. Then he announced, “Of course we need to examine your semen.”
I had figured on that. I imagined he’d send me off into a bathroom with a little cup or something.
Wrong-O! With a simple muttered, “You don’t mind, right?” he reached back with his blue-gloved hand, and started pulling my foreskin gently up and down. I was like “whaaa?” but didn’t actually say anything. Whatever slight erection I had was now gone.
Dr. Stevens made a joke about needing a bit of high-tech medical equipment, and reached into a box of Kleenex, pulling out a single sheet. He then dangled one corner over my flaccid penis, waving it slightly back and forth, and slowly lowering it until one corner just ever so slightly brushed my frenulum. When it finally touched, it made my penis, which was soft, feel like it jumped an inch. He kept waving the sheet, and occasionally the corner touched the underside of my dick. It felt fucking amazing! No one in my whole life had ever done that, and within a minute, I was fully erect under this guy’s attention. There was nothing I could do about it. I was erect. Very erect! Under the circumstances, I guess it was OK, although it did seem weird.
The doctor then dropped the Kleenex and started giving me what I guess was an ordinary handjob. I say “I guess” because the only one who has ever done that to me was my wife, and she only jerked me half-heartedly before it would turn into a blowjob or ordinary sex. When I think about it, it was totally surreal. This fat old man was jerking me off, and it felt awesome. I was starting to get that orgasmic feeling, and before I knew it, I was blowing cum into a petri dish he was holding in his other hand.
“Good, very good,” he said, then yelled “Bonnie!”
To my horror, his middle-aged, overweight nurse entered the exam room to carry the little covered dish away for lab analysis. I mean, she came right in there, with the doctor holding my still erect cock in one hand, and his little dish in the other. I guess for the two of them, this was totally normal.
All too soon, my pants were back on, and I was sitting at his desk. I couldn’t resist asking whether many patients get that treatment. He told me that sadly, the majority of his patients are in for enlarged prostate, and some are in quite bad shape. But he does also get men in for other things, some diseases he mentioned I hadn’t heard of like Pyronnie’s disease, and something I had heard of, “erectile dysfunction.” He went on to tell me that in some cases, what he called an ‘ejaculatory procedure’ was necessary, which brought a smile to his face.
I asked whether that’s the way it was done in most urologists’ offices. He said he only knew about his office, but didn’t think so. He said he was convinced most urologists are afraid of being sued for impropriety. He also said that with some of his clients, he just knows he should send them into the bathroom by themselves with a little dish, but for almost every guy, his version of the procedure is just fine. “Besides, it takes way less time,” he added.
Time didn’t seem to matter during my appointment, which was evidently the last of his day, because we sat at his desk chatting for quite a while. I felt I wouldn’t be satisfied if I didn’t ask certain questions, even though I knew my probing was a bit invasive. But, I also got the sense he wouldn’t mind.
“Why did you get into urology?”
“Well, I’m not gay. Heaven knows, my wife will tell you that. But, I have always been fascinated by the male reproductive system. Frankly, I do very much enjoy seeing, and I dare say, handling men’s erections. It does sadden me when I have to do invasive surgery. On the other hand, I’ve installed a number of Coloplasts – penile prosthesis for erectile dysfunction, and the men seem to really enjoy having those things. They tell me that being able to completely control their erections, even leaving them hard for extended periods of time, really excites them. I’ve also done a number of cosmetic procedures. You wouldn’t believe how many guys have enlarged their peeholes or had piercings that they want to restore to normal. There are also a number of guys, a surprisingly large number, who develop cysts in their epididymis, the connection tissue around the testicles. They’re always harmless, but the guys come to me all scared to death, and leave greatly relieved. Some of the young men do have testicular cancer, and that’s unfortunate, but even most of them turn out OK, although some end up with only a single testicle.
“Do you ever get gay men, or men who overly enjoy your attention?” I asked.
“Not as often or as overt as you might imagine, but every now and then I’ll get a major exhibitionist. Now, I do get a lot of men, especially the younger ones, who will have erections the minute their underwear comes off. I must say I enjoy seeing that. They’re typically quite embarrassed, and I try to put them at ease, saying ‘all the guys get hard,’ even though in reality, it’s less than 10 percent, unless they get the treatment you got.” He laughed.
We talked a bit more. He told me that some men spontaneously go into full orgasm during DRE, Digital Rectal Exam, where he sticks a finger in their ass. At that point, Bonnie came in saying she wanted him to leave so she could lock up.
And that was that. Oh, a week later he called and said all tests were negative, but my sperm count was down. He told me the reason was that my balls were running too hot. He told me I had to spend as much time as possible naked at home, avoid long hot showers, and wear boxers instead of briefs. With that, my scrotum would run a couple degrees cooler than body temperature, as it was designed to do. Sure enough, four months later Claire was pregnant.