the-doctor-experience-1the-doctor-experience-1

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Subject: The Doctor Experience I found a card that said “The Doctor Experience,” and the photo made me curious. It was cropped tight on a good physique, scrubs, stethoscope. It didn’t look like stock photography. I sat down at my computer and typed in the website address. It loaded with the same photo from the card, more exam room background and a little bit more body but still no face. It said, “For entertainment purposes only, The Doctor Experience is an 18+ interactive theatrical performance and not intended as actual medical or therapeutic services. Offering male ‘doctor,’ currently accepting male ‘clients’ only.” I was still intrigued, maybe even more so, after this boilerplate legal disclaimer. It continued, “For many men, a doctor’s appointment can be stressful, awkward, embarrassing, confusing, rushed, or irritating. Being undressed, seen, and touched by another man in a locked room together can bring up certain feelings and thoughts. The Doctor Experience allows you to customize an appointment the way you wish it could go. Tailor every detail and enjoy the experience. Get used to it in a safe, relaxed, non-judgmental setting with exactly the kind of doctor you want, doing exactly what you want him to do.” I wasn’t sure what this thing was. It definitely caught my interest though, anything about doctors did, and I kind of already decided to try it out, no matter what the intended audience was. The next section was just a huge form to fill out, I guess pretty similar to making a real doctor’s appointment. I only had to fill out my name and email address, and then there was a line about receiving the office’s exact address only after an appointment was confirmed, but that it was in central Ohio. I realized that I might have a bit of driving for this, but of course I’m gonna carve out the whole day. The form continued with a question: Just you? or are you bringing anyone else? I guess you could have somebody come and watch or even participate in it. Just me. Then there was a field for Name again, along with some wording to explain that this was the name I would be addressed as. Then a field to put in what age I should be addressed as, and if the doctor should already know me or if it should be our first meeting. It was like we were writing a plan for a play we’d be acting, I guess. I had never done anything like this before. I stopped and thought about my own past experiences. I had a special interest in doctors, and I was getting more and more interested and excited about the whole thing and each new detail. I picked Mikey as my name, and I pulled the drop-down to “teenager” and that the doctor should already know me, which he of course didn’t. I started picturing what would eventually be happening. I kept selecting choices on the big form, lots of checkboxes in different sections. I picked ‘Scrubs’ instead of ‘Suit and Tie’ or ‘Naked’ but I did wonder how that would play out, and I also checked ‘White Coat.’ Then there was a ton of adjectives for the doctor’s personality, all kinds. I imagined all the different ways that this doctor could be made to act. I checked off caring, kind, relaxed, sensitive, and a few others in that style. I thought about going a different direction, and then I was surprised at how it seemed like I had done this many times before, like picking pizza toppings. Next was a section about what the doctor should look like from a few select options. I thought about my past experiences and started picturing details and picked Hair: Medium, Color: Graying, Facial Hair: Mustache. Then a section about nudity. I looked at the options: Nude Required from Start, Underwear Required from Start, Undressing during Exam, No Undressing, Coerced Undressing, Stripped… I picked to start with clothes and get undressed during. That seemed more realistic, and I was realizing what I wanted. I liked all the options for everything though, and every question had a box to type in extra details or clarification, things to definitely include or definitely avoid. I was getting so curious about the service being offered. There was a section about which areas to spend extra time and attention on. I checked a few boxes and typed in some specific parts of an exam that I like most. There was a section with all kinds of stuff that could happen or be included. Some things were maybes for me, and a lot were definitely a No. I checked off a few and typed in that they were kocaeli escort all maybes, nothing I definitely wanted. There was a section that got into some sexual stuff, and that finally confirmed for sure what The Doctor Experience was. I really wasn’t sure. I looked to see what to check off, and I hesitantly clicked one box, then another, and then I stopped. This time was just to check it out, I told myself. Then I realized I was already seeing myself going back multiple times to try different set-ups. I filled in some dates and times available and clicked Submit. I waited. I let it go off to wherever it goes. I checked my email a few times before I went to sleep, and it took a while to fall asleep. The next morning, I checked again first thing and had an email waiting with bold letters saying The Doctor Experience. It said, “Hi Mikey, great to hear from you! I would be happy to give you a good check-up, but can we look at next month?” and offered a bunch of dates and times. I picked the earliest possible one, 13 days away, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. The confirmation came back right away, along with the address, which was almost a two-hour drive. When the day finally came, I woke up early. I had already decided what to wear, days before, but as I got out of the shower I decided to wear white briefs, like I did when I was younger. I never wore them anymore, but I had a couple pairs in my drawer that I wore sometimes if I was jogging. They were a little snug on the long drive. I got there early, really early, and drove by the place to get a look. Then I went and killed time for about an hour. I didn’t want to show up too early, like I usually did for a real doctor’s appointment. I pulled up to the address, a big old house, and down a long driveway with tall shrubs and trees lining the way. It had spaces to park and a side door to an office area. I wondered if it used to be an actual doctor’s office, or if maybe if it still is. The door had a hand-written note that said, “Come right in” and the door was left open a little. Inside, I saw a few chairs and magazine racks, with a desk set up like a counter, instead of facing the wall like you would normally do. It was all arranged to seem like a Waiting Room. It almost felt like one. I stood there, looking around. Then I sat down and acted as though it were real, and it kind of worked on me. It wasn’t just thinking, imagining, fantasizing; it was here in front of me, all around me. Then the doctor stepped in. The door opened quickly, and he stepped in wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck and scrubs, the shirt tucked in and a knot in the drawstring. He had a nice haircut with some gray at the temples, and he had a mustache. At first, I didn’t realize that he must’ve needed the extra time to grow it and let the gray grow in. He had a nice smile and nice eyes. He was just what I pictured while I filled out that form, and pretty similar to the doctor who I saw only twice growing up. “Mikey, hi! Good to see you again. It’s been a while, look how much you’ve grown. Sorry, I’m a little short-handed today. Come on back.” I just sat there like an idiot, grinning. I liked it, but I felt embarrassed and not sure what to do. But he didn’t even give me a chance to stumble over what to say. He just started acting his role. The exam room really looked like an exam room. A real exam table, those folders, those posters they have on the walls, jars with cotton balls or tongue depressors, even the shape of the room just felt real. Even the smell; is there a smell that a doctor’s office has? He had me sit on the exam table, and that legs-dangling feeling really put me into the role. I felt like the teenager I had signed up to be, and his whole demeanor to me added to it. He asked how I was and how school was, and he repeated how much I had grown. “Let’s kick those shoes and socks off,” he said, and he weighed me and then rested his hand on my shoulder as I stood up straight and tall so he could measure my height. It felt comfortable and familiar, with this stranger. He looked in my ears and eyes and mouth, and then he got his stethoscope ready. First he ran it up the back of my shirt and listened to my breathing. The stethoscope felt flat and cold, but his fingers holding it felt warm and soft. He just held it there for a minute, maybe two, before he asked me to breathe. I inhaled deeply, but he “slow.” I inhaled kocaeli escort bayan slowly and calmly, my frame rising and expanding under his touch. I let myself enjoy it. I remembered that I checked a box next to stethoscope for “extra time” and felt thankful that I did. I normally feel so confused and rushed trying to breathe right, but here there was no right or wrong. I breathed in and out slowly and calmly, and he took my elbow in his hand like sometimes doctors do, as he moved his hand around, touching the cool stethoscope to my skin. Then he brought it around to my chest, still up under my shirt. Normally, I think a doctor would just ask you to take your shirt off, but I was surprised at how I liked him standing closer and reaching into my clothes to touch me. I wondered if he had a plan, a routine he follows every time, or if he was deciding as he went along. Then I let those thoughts slide away so I could think of him as a real doctor instead of… an actor? “Your heart’s a little fast, but it’s okay to feel nervous,” he said. I didn’t know what to say or do in response. “It’s fast?” I asked. He told me to listen and cleaned the earpieces and gave me the stethoscope. I listened to my heartbeat as he held it against my chest. We looked into each other’s eyes as he stood inches from my face. I was getting excited. He said, “Here, listen to mine,” and pulled the stethoscope out and placed it into my hand and positioned my hand against his firm chest. His heart sounded clear and strong and calm, and the stethoscope in my hand in his hand against his chest made the soft fabric of his blue scrubs shirt bunch up and pull the V-neck lower, showing even more of the chest hair at his neck, dark and curly. I stared at it. He said, “You’ll have some soon.” I didn’t know what he meant. He told me I would be growing chest hair soon now that I’m getting older, even though he felt the hair I already have when he had his hand up my shirt. He asked, “Why don’t you take your shirt off now?” I took it off, and he commented on the hair in my armpits and asked if I started shaving yet. I played along and enjoyed pretending. He had me lie on my back, flat on the table beneath him. I was wearing jeans and no shirt. The crinkly paper moved between my body and the blue padded table. He lifted his hands and held out his fingers before letting them fall gently onto me, onto my smooth skin. He pressed onto my stomach. His fingers massaged gently and slowly, with less purpose than a real doctor. He was really taking his time. I closed my eyes and enjoyed being under him. Minutes passed, unrushed, and he was gentle. It was tantalizing. Occasionally, “any pain here?” or “that feel okay, Mikey?” Then he got the stethoscope and listened to my belly, moving the cold flat part around to different areas, as I let him. I got excited and anticipated as he moved lower. Then he said, “These are a little tight, Mikey. Would you open them up for me?” I looked up at him. His eyes smiled. I reached down and unbuttoned. I unzipped. I smiled. He smiled and reached down. I looked down as his hands opened the jeans wider, showing the waistband of my white underwear, some of the front. He said, “I’m just gonna inch these down a bit, okay buddy?” He slid the tight waist slowly lower. I saw more skin, flat and private, a bit of hair now, the curve and muscle under the skin. And his fingers explored. He pushed gently. It sent sensations all through me, private and secret and sensual. The stethoscope again and “just listening.” I lost track of time, but he spent time. I savored it all. Lower fingers where the bones push out and the skin is soft. And then he stopped listening with the stethoscope and lowered his ear down onto my skin and said “I’m just listening, Mikey” and I felt his mustache low on me, moving. Finally he said, “Okay, now I want you to get undressed for me. You’re a growing boy, and I want to make sure everything’s all right.” He guided me up to sit with my jeans open, and then he had me standing as he sat and looked at me. I stood there breathing heavy, relaxed. Normally a doctor isn’t staring at you, but it always feels like it anyway. I liked him looking. He was comforting and supportive in how he put me in position to be naked in front of him. I was hesitating, but he was letting me. I slowly let my jeans slide lower off my thighs and at my knees and the briefs displaying and then I pulled izmit escort them off each ankle and foot and set them aside. I felt exposed. I felt more naked in tighty whiteys than I did being naked. I felt like a dumb awkward kid but with the space to feel it and feel okay with it. “You’re growing up to be a fine young man, Mikey.” It might sound stupid, but he knew just what I wanted and just how I wanted it. I looked at my underwear, and it was barely holding me in. I was so hard and leaking a spot and making them see-through, and I felt embarrassed. But I saw him start to palm his crotch. The loose scrubs hid a pole. He was still calm and kind and doctorly, but hard and horny too. I took the waistband and peeled them off, letting my hard dick escape. I had a full boner after all that teasing and sensual touching. This was the kind that I only get sometimes, somehow bigger than the biggest it gets. The kind that wakes you up early. He kept acting like it was a normal check-up. “Okay, Mikey, I’m going to check for hernia now,” he said, occasionally tugging or rubbing himself nonchalantly. “So I’m just going to put my fingers here… now cough.” He pressed the firm mind under my balls, he rested two fingers against one ball, he put his thumb where the base of my hard dick met my balls. I coughed again and again, each time bobbing up, flexing. I started coughing less, just kind of clearing my throat. I coughed about forty times, until finally a long line of silvery liquid trailed off like a spiderweb. By the end, he had moved closer and closer until he was straddling my naked leg, his inner thigh pressed against my hip and butt. It might sound stupid, but it felt great, just taking one moment and stretching it. He sat back down in front of me, facing me, smiling at me kindly. I felt restrained from touching my hardon, without any rope needed. I like to make it last, but I hadn’t been on the edge for this long in a long time. “Do you know what masturbation is, Mikey?” “Uh, I’ve heard of it, but I’m not sure.” “Well, if you put your hand right here… and you hold it tight, you might like how it feels.” I slowly did, watching him watch me. I looked at my underwear between us on the floor. His eyes looked at them and at me and at my hand. I just held tight. He suggested that I slide my hand up and down slowly. I did. It really felt amazing because of all the build-up and the way he was acting. He would barely touch himself every couple minutes as I slowly stroked, and my whole naked body tensed up in front of him, still fully dressed, still tucked in. “You shouldn’t feel weird about doing this, Mikey. It’s perfectly natural, and you know what? Every guy does it too. I did it when I was your age, and I still do it. I did it this morning. And all your friends do it. And even your teachers. They jerk off just like you and me. And your dad does that too. His dick gets hard and long just like us, and he pulls on his hard dick, just like you’re doing. Try going a little faster, Mikey.” I was stroking and sweating, watching him watch me. It might sound stupid to drive all that way for me to do all the work, but it was exactly what I didn’t know I wanted so bad. He told me that I was going to shoot soon, but it was okay, and I should just let go. He was holding his dick with one hand and sliding his hips and knees forward, pushing into his hand and back. I felt the cool padding and crinkly paper under my bare skin as I rested back. I started moaning, and I got a little embarrassed. He said, “It’s okay, son. Do it. You go ahead. Look at that big cock you have boy. You just shoot that cock off, Mikey.” He picked up my underwear off the floor, and started feeling the fabric and where my dick had been, and I started shooting jets of thick white cum up, and he leaned forward with my briefs and caught my explosion and held my cock in his tight grip through the soft cotton, and I filled it, and he rubbed and squeezed as I whimpered and fell against him, draping one arm over his firm shoulder. I felt the blue fabric, and the white coat flapped behind me and around my side, wrapping me, as he held me up and gripped my wet dick. I felt his strong body, and I smelled aftershave. I felt exhausted and spent, physically and emotionally. He had pushed all my buttons, and hours had passed in that tiny room together. He never stopped being the doctor, even as we finished up, and he washed me down with a wet towel and dried me off and watched me put on my clothes and leave. I love to hear from readers, especially donors to Nifty. Let me know what you think and if you’d fill out a form for an experience like this.

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