A visit to the doctor

Ray began avoiding Paul at the gym after that, and Paul kept his cock to himself and Liz for a while after that (to Freddie’s dismay). The next person to touch it was his doctor.

He’d come in for his annual physical, and just gotten to the hernia test (the turn-your-head-and-cough one). “Oh my,” the doctor said as she looked up from her chart at his exposed junk. She blushed, embarrassed at her outburst, and pressed on. “Turn your head.” She cupped his balls. “Good, now cough.” She adjusted her hand a bit. “Okay, and cough again. Excellent.”

Her hand and gaze lingered a little longer than necessary, Paul thought. But with good reason. Regular banging had loosened Liz up a bit, and as a result he was now sporting nine inches when hard, and sixish flaccid. And his balls were kiwi-sized, since this morning Liz had been in the mood for what they jokingly called a “breakfast of champions.”

“Actually,” the doctor said, “while you have your pants down there’s one more test I’d like to run.” Paul raised an eyebrow. She didn’t see it, since she wasn’t looking at that head. “Counterintuitively, men with particularly large testicles -- like yours -- often have low sperm counts.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you see, spermatogenesis occurs best at something below normal body temperature, more like 95 degrees. That’s why your body keeps its testicles in an exposed, dangly, pendulous scrotum: so they won’t be so, so hot. However, apparel is not often designed for men of your prodigious endowment, and it often constricts the testicles into a tight space close to your body, where it can’t properly radiate heat and sperm cannot efficiently be created.”

“I’m actually not that worried about that, doc. For the time being, I’d like to keep my little swimmers out of the, er, kids’ pool.”

“For the time being, yes, but if you leave your testicles impacted now it could be much much harder to correct the problem when you do want to become a father. I strongly suggest taking a sperm sample so we can see if this is a problem.”

Paul suspected the doctor had an ulterior motive, and not just extra insurance money from more aggressive coding. But he figured that Liz couldn’t be upset with him for whacking off in front of his doctor if it was for his own health, so what the heck. Besides, the doctor was pretty good-looking: probably right out of med school in her late twenties, with very curly blonde tresses framing her pixie-like face. Her lab coat hid most of her body, though. “Well, if it’s for my health.”

“Excellent. Let me just find a sample jar...” she opened a cabinet and began rummaging through some low shelves, giving him a good view of her pert little tush. He felt himself getting ready for the task. “Here we are.” She handed him a lidded plastic cup, a bit larger than a dixie cup.

“Um, do you have another?”

“One sample is all we need.”

“No, I mean, what do I do after I-- this thing is going to overflow.”

“Oh! Err, just uh, stand near the sink and try to get any excess in there.”

“Okay.” Paul stood by the sink. “So, just, whenever I’m ready?”

“Yes, don’t mind me, I’ll just catch up on some paperwork.” She sat down in a chair, faced away from him, grabbed his chart, and rolled across the floor.

Her staying in the room seemed unusual, but Paul didn't mind. He was just about to get to it, when the doctor spoke up, “Oh, do you need any... visual aids?”

“What, like porn? Do you have a lending library?”

The doctor hesitated.

Paul reassured her, “No, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” The doctor returned to looking at his chart. Paul began somewhat awkwardly massaging himself to an erection. It took a surprisingly short time, given the slightly awkward circumstances.

Paul started stroking, as the doctor faced away, writing notes. Several times she looked up from her writing and stared thoughtfully into the distance. Paul hadn’t been masturbating much in recent weeks with all the sex he was getting, so it was still a fairly new sensation. This time he figured out that he really should be using two hands. Actually a third wouldn’t have been out of place.

Suddenly, Paul noticed that the doctor wasn’t, in fact, staring into the distance. She was perfectly positioned to stare at him via the mirror on the far wall. They made eye contact. She looked horny.

Paul’s orgasm caught him by surprise. He barely turned in time to get himself pointed at the sink. It took two spurts before he remembered about the sample jar and the whole purpose of this. He reached for it frantically, and in his haste he knocked it to the floor.

“I’ll get it,” she shouted, as Paul’s spurts began to dwindle. She dived out of her chair to the container, and hurried back to her feet with the prize clutched in one hand. But it was still capped! She hurriedly unscrewed it as Paul’s semen (or lack thereof, if the doctor's concern was correct) continued spilling into the sink. She got the cap off just before it seemed to be too late, and thrust it in front of Paul’s spewing cock, which she grabbed with her other hand to aim.

Paul being Paul, it actually wasn’t nearly too late. He still overfilled the cup, though only with his dribbles. It wasn’t until then that the doctor realized that in her haste to collect the sample she’d actually grabbed Paul’s cock, and was still holding it.