Medical experiment sex exam stories. Jack Visits The Doctor Gets Penis Examination.



Medical experiment sex exam stories

Medical experiment sex exam stories

The students shuffle toward us, like a single entity with multiple arms and legs and peering eyes. For all of them, it will be the first time they perform a breast exam or palpate a uterus or slide a speculum into a vagina in an attempt to see the shining ring of a cervix tucked inside. I am turned toward her, looking at her eyes, but I raise my voice so all the students can hear me. I explain how she can do this part at home for herself, once a month, and describe the quadrants of her breast as I make my way closer to the areola.

I describe the size and texture of the nodules I am checking for—what cancer would feel like. After checking her nipple for fluid and then spending extra time in the upper outer quadrant of her breast, I check her armpit, and then I ask if I can examine the other breast. She says yes, and I reach across her body. The students have gathered around the table and are now leaning in to watch me repeat each motion on her left breast.

I watch how her breasts swing. She and I and a team of women meet on Monday nights in the basement of a cancer treatment center with dozens of medical students to teach them how to give gynecological exams. Our director is an attending physician, and she bounces from room to room, unable to spend much time with any one group of students. We are alive, awake, and very aware that they will learn from us tonight the privilege and responsibility of providing good medical care to women.

I will ride my bike the two miles to home, sore from the multiple internal exams and speculum insertions. My car, an old Toyota with more than , miles on the odometer, sits at home for use only when I absolutely need it. I add this to the child support my ex pays every month and try to make wise choices about buying food and paying the electric bill and the mortgage.

It was a shock when my husband left. Being alone and poor is a struggle, a different kind of struggle than being married and poor. Poverty and single motherhood have given me an odd kind of liberation. He suspected me of flirting with men, always questioning my intentions, so the only significant contact I had with men for more than ten years was with him and, occasionally, my brothers. If one of us is bleeding with menstrual flow, the other sometimes agrees to a few extra exams to lighten her burden.

More often, though, we just keep it even, no matter if there is blood or bloating or discomfort. If I am the patient first, it helps that I know and trust Julie. If she is the doctor, she establishes the tone of professionalism and respect the students will follow when they perform their subsequent practice exams.

When I am the patient, the students have trouble recognizing that I am also their teacher, that from my supine position, I am also evaluating their technique and bedside manner. Darren is rugged and handsome, a former college football player. I enjoy his company, sitting with him in the swing on my front porch. The evening is warm and we exchange stories about our day. Nor do I know yet that his wife still lives with him.

I think they are divorced already, or at least separated. But for tonight, I enjoy the easy freedom with Darren. My ex would never have laughed. When a doctor examines a woman, it is a moment of acute vulnerability. And it lasts until she is sitting up and fully clothed. For many more years after this night, I will stumble through men, learning as I go how to say no and how to say yes.

Ben, the tall, thin lover who lives in a tree house and studies physics in his free time, he will spend lazy afternoons exploring my body and letting me explore his, helping me discover that my nipples are hard-wired and that I can have hands-free orgasms.

Tony, the dark-headed young athlete, will help me tease out the subtle differences between inserting tongue and finger and penis into various orifices. On the next Monday evening in the exam room and for many Mondays to follow, I will work with my partner, Julie, to teach waves of students how to approach a woman when she is on her back, ready for a gynecological exam.

Read more about her at www.

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Medical experiment sex exam stories

The students shuffle toward us, like a single entity with multiple arms and legs and peering eyes. For all of them, it will be the first time they perform a breast exam or palpate a uterus or slide a speculum into a vagina in an attempt to see the shining ring of a cervix tucked inside. I am turned toward her, looking at her eyes, but I raise my voice so all the students can hear me. I explain how she can do this part at home for herself, once a month, and describe the quadrants of her breast as I make my way closer to the areola.

I describe the size and texture of the nodules I am checking for—what cancer would feel like. After checking her nipple for fluid and then spending extra time in the upper outer quadrant of her breast, I check her armpit, and then I ask if I can examine the other breast.

She says yes, and I reach across her body. The students have gathered around the table and are now leaning in to watch me repeat each motion on her left breast. I watch how her breasts swing.

She and I and a team of women meet on Monday nights in the basement of a cancer treatment center with dozens of medical students to teach them how to give gynecological exams. Our director is an attending physician, and she bounces from room to room, unable to spend much time with any one group of students. We are alive, awake, and very aware that they will learn from us tonight the privilege and responsibility of providing good medical care to women. I will ride my bike the two miles to home, sore from the multiple internal exams and speculum insertions.

My car, an old Toyota with more than , miles on the odometer, sits at home for use only when I absolutely need it. I add this to the child support my ex pays every month and try to make wise choices about buying food and paying the electric bill and the mortgage. It was a shock when my husband left. Being alone and poor is a struggle, a different kind of struggle than being married and poor.

Poverty and single motherhood have given me an odd kind of liberation. He suspected me of flirting with men, always questioning my intentions, so the only significant contact I had with men for more than ten years was with him and, occasionally, my brothers.

If one of us is bleeding with menstrual flow, the other sometimes agrees to a few extra exams to lighten her burden.

More often, though, we just keep it even, no matter if there is blood or bloating or discomfort. If I am the patient first, it helps that I know and trust Julie. If she is the doctor, she establishes the tone of professionalism and respect the students will follow when they perform their subsequent practice exams. When I am the patient, the students have trouble recognizing that I am also their teacher, that from my supine position, I am also evaluating their technique and bedside manner.

Darren is rugged and handsome, a former college football player. I enjoy his company, sitting with him in the swing on my front porch. The evening is warm and we exchange stories about our day. Nor do I know yet that his wife still lives with him. I think they are divorced already, or at least separated. But for tonight, I enjoy the easy freedom with Darren.

My ex would never have laughed. When a doctor examines a woman, it is a moment of acute vulnerability. And it lasts until she is sitting up and fully clothed. For many more years after this night, I will stumble through men, learning as I go how to say no and how to say yes. Ben, the tall, thin lover who lives in a tree house and studies physics in his free time, he will spend lazy afternoons exploring my body and letting me explore his, helping me discover that my nipples are hard-wired and that I can have hands-free orgasms.

Tony, the dark-headed young athlete, will help me tease out the subtle differences between inserting tongue and finger and penis into various orifices. On the next Monday evening in the exam room and for many Mondays to follow, I will work with my partner, Julie, to teach waves of students how to approach a woman when she is on her back, ready for a gynecological exam. Read more about her at www.

Medical experiment sex exam stories

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4 Comments

  1. His bare right hang again gripped my rod as if it were a hand rail to keep the skipper of a ship stable during a storm. Half jokingly I say "I see you've got a nice piece there, too. I don't usually see such a tight cut," he comments as he now bends over for a closer look.

  2. I will ride my bike the two miles to home, sore from the multiple internal exams and speculum insertions.

  3. I was still perfectly hard. His bare right hang again gripped my rod as if it were a hand rail to keep the skipper of a ship stable during a storm.

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