I am getting back to doing a bit of writing, staying alive happened to get in the way of doing that. Just a little medical upset, a bit of surgery to repair some blood vessels and good as new.
Nothing very erotic here, either. Just one of those CFNM situations that happen every day in the medical field.
Being a bit long in the tooth, some of you might find my tales less than interesting, if so, be warned. I could pretend to be young and desirable, but the young part went by the wayside many years ago. So, it is what it is here. I am still in reasonable shape and everything works.
Anyway, YOUR day is coming, with a dab of luck you will live long enough to be just like me! For many people my age, sexuality is just a memory. But, I am lucky. I have a wife, she is a Physician, she refuses to allow that to happen.
"Sexuality is just a part of life!" I have heard my Debra say so many times I have lost count.
Lucky me! But, like all of us, she has a few flaws. I found one of them a few weeks back.
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"What's that?" Debra was sitting on my legs, she had been busy rubbing my back.
Lord does that feel good. Even better since both of us were naked. We often take turns doing that when we get to messing around at home.
We also get massages at home, typically twice a month from professionals. Depending on who we have coming over, those can be a lot of fun. If I have to go into detail about what all goes on during those sessions, then you don't realize what website you are on.
Society frowns on that, sensual touch is illegal in our State. (It seems you have to date, buy a fur coat, a ring, maybe a car. CASH is a nono!) But at our ages, we really don't give a crap what society thinks. The doors are shut, the touching is private, no one gets hurt. The therapist gets a portion of their rent covered, we have a good time, and everyone is happy.
There is no jealousy between us. None. I thought so anyway.
What we don't do is indulge in full sexual activity with whoever is our Masseuse at the moment. But touch is just fine with us. So far, every single one of them Debra has hired have been female. My Debra would not mind that one bit either way, I am a bit homophobic so having some cute guy over to give me a rubdown, along with a happy ending is just not going to do it for me. Now I did threaten to go find some good looking guy to work on just her, she simply laughed at me. It seems that male therapists are in even shorter supply in our neck of the woods. At least, any that aren't gay.
Sexist comment, I know. Also true.
There isn't exactly a long list of possible willing therapists in our small town at all. July moved up North, it seems she finished her degree and got a good job at the medical clinic there. Nikola had a few more regular customers than just us and one of them liked her a lot. They got married, she moved to Portland. Same with Rwanda, the tiny little African gal I met when I went in for some tests.
Then I found Heather, now that gal was great! Slender, bubbly personality, and man does she know how to tease. But, she travels, she is around for a couple of months, then gone to lord knows where.
Everyone else we tried would rub out our backs and arms, legs to the knees, anything more was a big NONO. Just the way things are around here.
Oh well. So, my Debra was rubbing my back, my legs, my butt.. and stuff. I had my hands behind me tickling her stuff with my fingertips. We were having some fun.
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"What's this?" She asked, and she stopped rubbing.
"What's what?" I asked.
"I feel a little bump here, it's a bit discolored on top, too. Does that hurt?" She slid her fingertip over whatever the hell it was, which gave me a tiny little sticking sensation.
"Yeah, a little bit. What is it?" I asked.
"Some kind of growth, probably nothing, but I want you to come in to the office tomorrow."
Now Debra is a Doctor, she runs the local medical clinic. Which means, I have a perfectly good physician right here at home, in bed with me. But, for anything medical, or anything requiring a referral, Medicare requires I use someone else. Ethics and all that, I suppose.
The way it works is, first we go see a primary, they check things out and refer to a specialist if needed. So, there I sat the next afternoon in one of the silly gowns, open in the back with nothing on but my briefs. In came Stephanie, she is now some kind of nurse's assistant, whatever that is. Way back, she worked there as the prep nurse, taking blood pressure, temperature and weight, then asking a few preliminary questions.
Now she can do referrals, a promotion I guess.
With the huge shortage of medical people, one of Debra's first acts was to get Stephanie certified, I am not sure just how but she managed it. But it's nice, I know her and like her. She is maybe 5'3" tall and shaped a lot like my bowling ball. She is also efficient and very good at her job.
"All right, Danny. Get up on the exam table, lie down on your belly, OK?" I did as she asked, she began to look at my back, and she found the spot in seconds.
"Hmmmm. It's about the size of a pea, maybe it's just a cyst. But best to check." Then she inspected my legs, my shoulders, using her fingertips and a light that swung out from the wall.
"I need you to drop your underpants, Danny." She said.
"You first." I wisecracked, getting a giggle out of her.
"You have to take me out for dinner and dancing if you want me to do that." She fired right back, we both laughed at that. Stephanie is fun to work with, she gives every bit as good as she gets.
Next thing I knew I was on my knees, with Stephanie back there spreading my butt cheeks to check for moles, lumps, anything. She even reached up and rolled my testicles, then had me lay on my side while she checked my penis for anything unusual. I accused her of playing, getting another titter out of her. She even checked the bottom of my feet. But finally, she was done.
"I am going to refer you to Clearwater, out in the valley." She told me.
"What is that?" I asked as I was yanking my pants up.
"Dermatology. There is that thing on your back, and I found another smaller one on the other side, lower down. Plus, there is a small patch of discolored skin right next to your rectum. They are probably nothing, but it's best to get that checked by a specialist, OK?"
"OK." I answered. I left and went home. I wasn't too worried, I know very well that things like this are nothing about 99% of the time.
My phone rang a couple of days later, it was the clinic calling to schedule me. I wrote down the date and time, looked up the address and how to get there on Google Earth.
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When Debra got home, I told her about the appointment. I would need to drive myself out there, since she would be at work.
"Clearwater? Which Dermatologist did they book you with?" She asked. I looked at what I had written down.
"Someone named Marsha M. Johnson." I told her. Her face darkened, which I found odd.
"OK, what?" I asked.
"Nothing, it's just... I knew a woman named Marsha M. Miller back in college, but it can't be her." She was still frowning.
"Her? What is it?" I can tell when something upsets my wife. She is normally completely unflappable, so her reaction was a bit out of character.