My Phobic-fetish, Chapter 2

by Jackie

In time I learned that my doctor, Brenda Huggins, was in a long term committed relationship. She'd been together with her partner since she was in med school. I'd found this quite common among pure lesbians. It's us dual and bi sexuals who are the promiscuous ones. She and my friend, the one I've referred to as Carly, met at a gay rights rally going on fifteen years ago now.

Thanks to our chat following her first exam, the second time she examined me there was no elephant in the room.

She came in and immediately started asking me about my business; how things were going, did I have any interesting projects I was working on, as she prepared for and began the examination. It was an even more effective distraction than Doctor Tomlin's boating, cottage diversion. My sexual brain and my professional mind were pretty well separated so it was hard for them to both function at the same time.

She performed her work quickly and efficiently much like Doctor Tomlin had but I was much more comfortable—at least as comfortable as I'm ever going to get in a medical situation. I still get and, as I said at the outset, have accepted that I always will become sexually aroused when I'm being examined.

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After I made the call to set up the appointment for my annual exam, I tried to go back to work. I sat down at the desk and opened the file but the gnawing in my crotch disrupted my concentration. It was at times like this that I was especially glad that I operate my business out of my home. I was not going to be able to work effectively in this state, so I made myself a cup of lemon tea and took it to the living room.

Sitting on the couch I allowed my mind to wander, to imagine in detail the upcoming doctor's visit. I could see myself walking through the door into the bright reception area adjacent to the nicely furnished waiting room.

Michelle was behind the reception counter as always,

"Hi Jackie, I was starting to get worried about you ... I thought maybe you'd forgotten us."

I never arrived more than a couple of minutes before my appointment. I could keep some rein on the excitement by pushing it to the back of my mind but once I enter the office I find it very difficult to suppress.

"Nope, I'm following my usual just in time philosophy," I said taking a seat.

I was scanning the magazine collection on the table aware of the increase in the nervous flutters in my low belly when I heard the nurse call my name.

I'd had very little to do with Gloria—Doctor Huggins nurse—but I did of course see her at some point each time I was there. She was usually the one who collected patients from the waiting room and escorted them to the appropriate examination room.

I stood up and without prompting followed her down the hall.

"How are you today?" she asked conversationally over her shoulder.

"I'll be better once I get this over with," I replied, not in the least reluctant to make my discomfort known.

"I know what you mean ... it's not one of my favorite things either. Doctor Huggins wants to have a word with you in the office first," Gloria informed me as we passed by the last of the examination rooms and arrived at the end of the where the doctor's office was located.

'Unusual.' I thought. 'We haven't had a sit down in her office since the first day I met her.'

The office door was open and Gloria gave a light rap on the door frame to attract the physician's attention.

I passed the nurse and entered the small but surprisingly tidy office. Brenda stood up and came around her desk with her hand extended.

"Miz Welch ... nice to see you." We shook hands.

It always struck me odd that she'd invited me to call her by her first name while she usually addressed me more formally. Doctor Tomlin had done the same thing; although I never called him by his first name he never once in thirty years called me by mine. It always seemed ironic not to be on a first name basis with someone who was going to look at you and touch you in the most intimate possible way. I suspected that Brenda had made the offer of addressing her less formally in case the very word 'doctor' was a stressor for me. She wasn't entirely wrong.

As we were exchanging greetings the other woman in the room also rose from her seat. I'd never seen her before but, judging by the scrubs she was wearing, I concluded that she was a member of Brenda's staff.

"I'd like to introduce you to Jennifer; she's a Nurse Practioner who is now working with us."

I turned toward the nurse and several things hit me at once. First was the mussed up style of her short red hair; it was remarkably similar to my own. The second thing was her pettiness she wasn't any taller than me and I'm only five foot two. As we shook I also noticed that her hand was even smaller than mine.

"Have a seat," Doctor Huggins suggested going back behind her desk and sitting down.

The usual nervous anxiety I felt as soon as I entered the medical suite was escalating. The gnawing and fluttering in my abdomen were already being misinterpreted or re-interpreted by my brain as sexual signals. The delay wasn't helping.

"I imagine you know that there is a desperate shortage of Family Physicians in this area," Brenda began.

I nodded confirming that I was aware of the situation that had been on-going and evidently worsening as older doctors elected to retire.

"One of the strategies to address this problem is to take some of the workload away from the available doctors by developing a Heath Care Team, which will improve service and reduce wait times."

Doctor Huggins paused waiting for my reaction. I was hearing her words but in point of fact was more focused on trying to keep myself calm. I could sort of see where this was leading but I waited for her to drop the other shoe.

"Jennifer has begun her role here by taking over annual physicals, in order to free up my time to deal with ... let's say more complex issues."

I felt my expression change. I felt the blood rush to my head and although I didn't say anything the doctor got the message—the concern that gripped my brain.

"Don't worry I'm still your doctor ... I'm not passing you off. If there are any findings during the examination then I will certainly be involved in attending to them."

'Has she completely forgotten about my unusual if not unique problem with physical examinations?'

My heart rate accelerated to an alarming level and a hot wave rushed over me.

"But—" I protested not really knowing what to say next.

Looking me very directly in the eye she said,

"You have to trust me on this ... Jenny is uniquely competent to handle your examination," she said the words slowly and meaningfully.

'What does that mean ... Uniquely competent?'

It didn't seem like I was being offered an option, I was just being informed of the new structure of health care as it applied to me.

"Well Jenny, we've got work to do and we shouldn't take up anymore of miz Welsh's time than is necessary," my doctor said, rising and coming around the desk. Her assistant rose too.

I remained seated trying desperately to absorb what I had just been told and to grasp what it really meant. From my seated position I looked at the young woman who would soon be seeing me and touching me in the most up-close and personal way.

The scrubs Jennifer was wearing were an unusually flattering fit. The top had some sort of pictures on it in blues and greens. The trousers were plain blue. The NP had a compact and quite curvy figure but when I looked at her face I was once again amazed at how young she looked. If I'd met her in another setting I wouldn't have been sure she was out of high school. To have gained the requisite education, training and experience to perform her job I knew that she had to be at least in her mid twenties but she sure didn't look it.

Normally looking younger than your years is a good thing, especially for a woman, but when you were in a position where people needed to have confidence in your abilities it became something of a liability.

Brenda put her hand on my shoulder reassuringly and said,

"Just relax miz Welsh ... everything is going to be fine," and then she turned and left the office leaving me with my teenaged looking caregiver.

"If you'll follow me we can get started right away," the nurse said as she began moving toward the door.

It was like a juggling act going on in my mid section. One minute the anxiety was on top with its butterflies and nervousness and the next my pussy asserted its needs.

I followed Jennifer down the hall at the rear of the suite to an examination room that I'd never been in before and did know existed. It was set apart not near the others.

Jenny opened the door and stood aside making way for me to enter the small antiseptic smelling room.

"There's a paper poncho and a sheet on the table for you," she said from the doorway. "I'm guessing that you know what to do."

I didn't seem to have enough air to make my vocal chords work so I just nodded.

"I'll give you some privacy while you disrobe and be back in a couple of minutes."

With that she closed the door leaving me standing alone it the place of my fears and fantasies.

At that moment the competition for control of my physical sensations was firmly being controlled by my phobia. I undressed trying to ignore the churning fluttering. I hung my skirt and blouse on the clothes tree in the corner and sat down on the chair to remove my thigh-hi stockings. My butt wiggled against the chair as I rolled them down my legs. The wetness in the crotch of my panties became very noticeable and the nervousness was overwhelmed; first by acknowledging of the evidence of my arousal and second by the feelings of shame.

Brenda had told me that my reaction was not unique—there were other women who got excited in this situation but it was still embarrassing especially with someone new performing the examination. Unhooking my bra and hanging it on the tree with the skirt and blouse I was very aware of my semi erect nipples. This had become their normal state. They rarely fully retracted anymore and they seemed to have gotten more sensitive over the years. Time was when I would have to play with them for several seconds, up to a minute, before that marvelous stream of good feelings started flowing to my loins. Now just the slightest contact anytime could get my kitty to twitch.

I was tempted to give my boobies a squeeze but I knew that would be unadvisable. I was already messy enough. I did look down at them, and the rest of my figure as well.

I was pleased with the weight that I'd lost in the past year even if it had come at the expense of a cup size. I still filled the 'C' very nicely; I only wished they were a little perkier. My tummy was never going to be flat again, at least not without a workout regimen that was beyond my motivation, but the shed pounds had re-established my waist and accented the mature flair of my hips. I was generally pleased and I was getting compliments from my husband and girlfriends that I hadn't had in years.

When I removed my panties I was happy that not very much had escaped. My Brazilian style mons was avant garde twenty-five tears ago when I first removed all the hair but now it was wonderfully common. I knew that my juices were pooling walled up behind my bald labia but I wasn't leaking—yet.

I hung my underwear under my skirt so they wouldn't be on view. It's a strange expression of modesty in the circumstance I know.

I, like most people, get completely undressed two or three times a day and usually didn't think about it. Standing in the sterile little antiseptic room with no clothes on is different. I am very aware of my nakedness and my skin tingles.

The paper poncho comes down to about my waist and feels scratchy on my sensitive nipples. I use the little platform beside the table to get up onto the crunchy paper cover. It feels cool against my backside. A warm rush comes over me as I swing my legs up onto the table and arrange the sheet over my lower half. Lying there looking at the ceiling tiles I try to get my mind to go some place else but the crampy pressure in my lower belly reasserts itself with a new urgency. I am practicing my relaxation breathing when the rap comes on the door.

"Are you ready miz Welsh?"

It's a loaded question that doesn't register on my frazzled brain.

"Yes," I manage to respond.

The young woman I'd met less than fifteen minutes ago, the one who looked young enough to be my grand daughter, entered. She closed the door behind her, came to the side of the table and smiled down at me.

"Doctor Huggins has told me that you have more difficulty with these exams than most women ... we're going to try to make you as comfortable as possible ... OK?" she asked placing her hand reassuringly on my shoulder.

I nodded looking up into her cute face framed in the red tussled hair, trying not to notice how high and firm looking her breasts are.

As usual my thinking reasoning mind was telling me to relax; that it would all be over in fifteen minutes, but the involuntary chemical brew being released by my limbic system was creating physical sensations that were impossible to completely ignore. I was aware of the nervousness—the churning in my stomach but I really didn't know if it was caused by the impending examination or by my embarrassing reaction to it.

"I'll begin with the breast exam," the nurse practitioner announced, pushing the sheet down far enough so that she could get a hold of the bottom of the poncho.

She used both hands to neatly fold the paper drape on my upper chest.

With my boobs exposed to her view a moderate quake when through me beginning between my legs and spreading out over my whole body. I could literally feel my nipples growing as she performed a visual assessment looking for surface abnormalities. They needed a little physical stimulation to become fully erect and they were tingling—begging for it.

Jenny put her left hand under the side of my breast and pushed hard under my arm while lifting its fleshiness up onto my rib cage. She began the familiar wiggling little pokes on my pliable tit. The tingling in my right nipple was becoming a burn.

"Do you perform regular self-examinations?" she asked as she worked her way around.

I actually do deliberately and consciously check my breasts at least monthly; usually in the shower. The self-examination process often causes me to think about doctors and medical situations which invariably gets my juices flowing and the examination degenerates into masturbation. I don't know how thorough a job I do before I get distracted but I always think that there are enough other people handling my boobs, that if there were a problem someone would notice it for me.

"I check once a month or so," I managed to answer as she finished my right side.

She reached across and cupped my left breast piling it up on my chest with the same painful poke under my arm and then began the routine palpation. The burn moved with her small soft hands. My right nipple regressed to a warm tingle but now the left one felt hot and itchy as the spongy resilient flesh around it was manipulated. Both pleasure points were sending their unique erotic messages directly to my clit. I was holding on as best I could, knowing that I would get a brief respite from the physical stimulation when she prepared for the pelvic part of the exam.

Her hands left my chest and a feeling washed over me. I couldn't tell if it was relief or disappointment.

"Do you check your nipples regularly as well?"

It was amazing how fast the question was processed by my disjointed brain. It felt as though I had been slapped directly on my mons and I gasped. The embarrassing indiscretion that had happened at the mammography clinic ten years ago immediately flashed through my mind.

Doing the manual breast exam, prior to the mammogram, the nurse had carelessly contacted my nipples multiple times. I don't think it was intentional but I climaxed just the same. It was the only time that I'd actually had the orgasm during an examination although it always seemed just a touch or a movement away.

Fortunately it was a small and disguisable cum. I suspect the nurse at the hospital breast clinic knew that it happened, but she never let on. If you want to get me worked up the best place to start are my boobs—I always do.

"Um ... I don't usually check them ... uh, I mean not directly."

It felt like I was whispering because I didn't seem to have enough air.

"It's a good idea to check them once in a while," the young nurse counseled. "Usually any problems will show up fairly quickly but you can potentially detect an unusual condition a bit sooner if you do a self-exam."

I had been told at the breast clinic that I'd been going to annually since I hit my mid forties to be observant of any changes in my nipples, but no one had ever recommended physically examining them.

Jenny had been looking me in the eye during this exchange but her eyes wandered down to my exposed chest when she asked,

"Would it be alright if I checked them for you now ... would you mind?"

I thought my nipples were going to jump right off my breasts at the suggestion. The burning tingling was turned up several notches by the possibility of direct contact.

I could say no; she had left me that option. My mind was in such turmoil as the question I'd asked myself a thousand times over the years was suddenly front and center.

'Did I want the health care provider to touch me sexually or not?'

I'd never been sure what the answer was and it always seemed moot because it was most likely never going to happen. I can only guess what the expression on my face was saying but no words were coming out of my mouth in answer to her request.

"It won't hurt ... I promise," she assured and then her fingers were on my nearly erect nipples.

I should have been ready for it. I should have known after the fiasco at the mammography clinic what was likely to happen but I hadn't actually agreed. For some reason Jenny had taken my delay in responding as consent.

She employed a very interesting grip. She took each of the half inch rubber peg like protrusions between the second knuckles of two fingers and squeezed fairly gently at first. With both of my tender arousal triggers being pinched at the same time a massive wave of pleasure made me groan and the pressure between my legs reached a critical stage.

I felt the surging feeling that I knew were contractions in my vagina and uterus. When I reached this stage there was no stopping the orgasm it was only a question of how big it would be.

"They're very sensitive aren't they," the nurse stated the obvious as my back began to arch.

I realized the reason for her unconventional grip. It left her thumbs free to poke the very tip. Actually she was running her thumb nails over the bumpy surface on top of the sensitive nubs which were unable to escape or even flex much because of the increasing pressure she was applying with her other fingers. I can only describe the electric jolt that hammered into my pussy as a jagged spear of pleasure so intense that it was almost painful.

Anyone who has had sex in a place where noise was an issue (like when there are people in the next room and the walls are not very sound resistant) knows the Herculean effort it takes to stifle the vocalization of your orgasm. The need to be quiet is somehow instinctive but nevertheless interferes, to an extent, with the enjoyment. That's the way I tried to swallow the scream that would have otherwise deafened the nurse practitioner—still it was most surely not silent.

My head was spinning completely out of control and my entire body was tingling while I lay there trying to catch my breath.

Thankfully Jenny let go of my nipples as my climax was subsiding. For that and the next couple of moments I wouldn't have been able to stand the stimulation.

"Everything is fine so far," the nurse confided as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

She pulled the paper poncho back down covering my upper body and the feelings of intoxication began to ease a bit.

I know intuitively when my lubricating glands are active but I can't actually feel it until the moisture begins to escape.

Jennifer was at the foot of the table and gently placing each of my feet in the stirrups. The spasms from inside and the engorgement of my lips that stretched some of the protective folds out were permitting leakage. I thought I was pretty dewy before the orgasm but had no sensory evidence. Now as the nurse moved my feet further apart I could feel that I was positively flooded. That strange panicky anxious feeling in my stomach was back.

Was it nervous anticipation of the next stage of the examination or was it shame at the mess between my legs? I couldn't really tell.

"I need you to scoot down for me," Jenny was saying.

I'd done this about forty times before and it never got any easier or more comfortable. I bit my lip to distract my mind from the embarrassment I was feeling as I complied with her order. The Nurse Practitioner was still standing or I wouldn't have been able to see her as the sheet draping my lower half rose up with my knees. I could feel the tendrils of pussy juice forming bridges across the widening gap between my inner labia. I had looked at my engorge vulva enough times to have a clear mental image of what Jennifer was seeing.

"OK ... very good," she congratulated me when I'd shimmied down the table far enough to suit her.

She took hold of the sheet that was draped over my knees, down to my mid shin and then folded it back so that it was lying across my upper abdomen. I watched between the columns of my bare thighs as she pulled the goose necked light into place and sat down on the short examination stool. Now I could only see her from the neck up as she was peering directly into my womanhood. She pushed very gently on my legs just below the knee and said,

"Just relax and let your legs fall outward."

I hadn't even realized that I was trying to keep them closed until I followed her instruction and saw how much more they parted.

My coochie was starting to feel a little chilled because it was so wet and now wide open to the air circulating in the examination room. My breathing was still ragged and I was trying to get it under control. In through my nose deeply and then slowly out through my mouth. When I caught the faint but unmistakable scent of my own arousal I shivered.

"You're doing great," the woman sitting between my splayed legs encouraged. "Just keep doing your deep breathing and it'll all be over before you know it."

My trepidation and excitement were so intertwined that I couldn't differentiate. It was just like always but it was also different. I tried to get my cum slogged brain to figure out what the difference was. There was having the orgasm, which was new, and that certainly added to my embarrassment but there was something more—something making it harder than usual to get any sense of control.

"OK, I'm just going to feel around the outer parts for any irregularities," Jenny informed me as I felt her latex covered hand brush my thigh.

'That's it, ' I realized.

The Nurse Practitioner wasn't distracting me with a bunch of small talk. If anything she was saying things that drew me in and made me even more conscious of the procedure. I had often wondered if starting the off topic conversation was actually part of the doctor's training on how to perform a pelvic exam.

'Maybe it's part of the doctor's training and not the Nurse Practitioner's, ' I thought.

My ability for conscious thought was seriously impaired when I felt Jennifer's fingers pinching the lower parts of my outer lips and working their way up. The unique feel of her tiny fingers through the latex gloves was getting my pussy churning again. This was usually the hardest part of the exam for me but I had been hoping that since my sexual stress had been shamefully relieved that I might be easier this time—it wasn't the case. The nurse's palpation of my outer lips seemed to be taking longer than usual but my ability to judge the passage of time was very poor. It already seemed like an hour since I'd had the climax, when of course it was only a couple of minutes.

She did not announce that she was moving to my inner lips. When she started the slippery pinching process from the bottom again I had to stifle a groan as the more sensitive flesh was manipulated.

I had always felt that my labial wings were extensions of my clitoris. The sensitivity increased exponentially above my vaginal opening. Squeezing my outer lips had been like plucking the string of a guitar. Working upward on the inner folds was like running a finger down the neck. The pitch of the note was rising as was the throbbing from my core.

I had lost concentration on my breathing and didn't realize that I was virtually panting until Jenny said,

"I need you to take some nice deep breaths for me while I examine you clitoris."

The statement hit me like a thunderbolt and sent a spear of terror through my heart.

"But ... but, I've never ... uh, nobody's ever done that before," I protested.

"I know but it seems like you really need it," she replied.

I felt her fingers, or maybe it was her thumbs, lifting and stretching my vulva upward. The hood was retracted and I knew my pleasure center emerged into full view. My legs started to shake and the pressure that had been building in my uterus reached that explosive point of no return. When the nurse's finger tip contacted my little girl cock my legs stiffened and thrust against the stirrups.

They should have been hard and unyielding, but they weren't. They felt soft and pliable against my feet. As I thrust my hips up toward the finger that was stroking my clit back and forth and 'round and 'round. I put my left wrist in my mouth and started gnawing on it to suppress the wail that was being forced up from between my legs. The softness under my feet and shoulders seemed out of place as my back arched and the heavenly bliss completely overwhelmed me.

My eyes flickered open only half expecting to see the cute little redhead between my thighs. What I saw was a table lamp. My feet were firmly planted on the armrest of the sofa. There was no cotton sheet folded across my waist but my bunched up skirt was there in its place. My right hand was still holding the crotch of my panties aside and stroking the buttery soft folds of my flooded pussy.

Dreamily I knew that when I went for my appointment next Wednesday morning there would be no Nurse Practitioner named Jennifer. There would be no nipple and clitoral exams and I would not be having multiple orgasms on the examination table, which is the way I wanted it—didn't I?