I had been having problems with an enlarged prostate and, after being checked and been given the all clear for cancer, had been given a course of Finasteride by the doctor to help it reduce in size. I had to go on a semi-regular basis for a check up as the medication was being slowly tapered off . This was the final day for examinations; the medication was working and as the doctor intimated to me in the previous session, if the medication carried on working there would be no need to return. I arrived at the surgery and notified the receptionist that I was here but was told that my regular doctor was not in today due to a personal situation and he had been replaced by a locum; I said that I didn't mind and sat down waiting to be called. When the buzzer went, I walked into the allocated room and there sitting behind the desk was an absolute beauty: a female Indian Doctor her hair scraped back into a pony tail with a fringe, her blouse just slightly opened to reveal very modest but pert breasts. As soon as I saw her I could feel the blood rushing into my loins, this wasn't in the plan. She reiterated what the receptionist had said earlier and asked if I wanted to wait until my regular doctor came back, I said I was ok with her doing this. She then asked me to undo and drop my trousers and my boxers and lay on the examining table facing the wall. I had only pulled my boxers down over my arse as my cock was fully stiff now and I wanted to hide it as I felt ashamed as I thought it wasn't the right situation to get an erection. What happened next took only a matter of a couple of minutes if that, but it felt like a lifetime. I heard her snapping a surgical glove on, “This might feel slightly cold” she said, then I heard the 'splot' as she put some lubricating gel on her finger . She gently eased her finger inside my rectum and I felt as she touched my prostate; now previously, when the other doctor did this it was fine, slightly uncomfortable, but fine. This time, it felt exquisite. I could feel as she softly pushed and encircled the gland with her finger feeling its size, I began to wince as I could feel my cock stiffening with each movement of her finger; it was caught under the elastic of my boxers and was being held down. She wrongly concluded that I was in pain and asked if I was alright, I very sheepishly admitted what was wrong and apologised profusely. She replied that it was nothing to feel ashamed about and that the prostate was the male G spot (which I knew anyway), she intimated that if it relieved the pain, to pull my boxers down, I did this and my cock sprang out. She could see that I was still wincing and said 'just relax' probably thinking I was still embarresed; I explained to her that my 'penis' (I didn't use the word cock in front of her till later) was sore as if the muscles had tensed up she said if I wanted to 'massage' it go ahead but she would be finished in a short while. I moved my hand across and slowly drew the foreskin back and forth with a look of absolute relief on my face. The doctor showed no signs of finishing the examination and she carried on gently massaging my prostate as I basically wanked off in front of her. It was then that I began to notice the sound of her breathing becoming heavy and audible, this made me look round and when I looked at her her face said 'yes I'm enjoying this too!' . I was getting to a point where my balls and cock were beginning to tingle toward that expectant end. Just then there was a knock at the door, it was the receptionist; quick as a flash the doctor said 'hold on', she put a nearby blanket used for covering people who were shy over my lower half, then said loudly 'come in'. From what I could hear as I was facing the wall, the receptionist brought in notes of the next patients and left promptly. The doctor went back to the desk again “you can get dressed now!” she said. I felt rather confused: still in shock that she had broken rules and laws, slightly pissed off that she hadn't finished what she was doing and now here she was acting as if nothing had happened. “Your prostate is fine!” she said “I'll write this down in the notes and your regular doctor can contact you to make any further plans”. Almost instantaneously, I got a slip of paper and a pen out of my jacket pocket and proceeded to write my name and mobile down on it; “I don't know if you do home visits at all” I said, trembling inside, “but if you're ever in the area again and you might like to check up on me – here's my number”. With almost one movement and without agreeing or disagreeing, she took it from me and slipped it into her jacket pocket, she looked at me wanting to say something, but hesitated and looked down at the notes again. Basically I could feel that that was the end of the meeting; so I got up, said thank you and left. It felt totally surreal as I walked home; I wondered had that really happened? How many other men had she done that too? Would she complain to someone about what happened? I relieved myself of the frustration built up earlier as soon as I got in. For the next two days I relived that episode in the surgery, wondering whether I had made a mistake : maybe it wasn't anything sexual and she was just doing her job. Did some doctors help patients out in those situations? Maybe I had offended her by insinuating that I wanted to take it further and she had just been professional about it when I handed her the slip of paper? Would she report me? Gradually, worldly clamours began to impress themselves on a daily basis and I put the experience to the back of my mind and began to forget about it. About three weeks later I had just got home about 6pm my mobile rang; a strange number, I answered it - it was her! She wanted to know how I was doing and said she was back at the surgery again till Friday (it was Tuesday that night). My heart started beating fast again just like in the surgery all those weeks ago; I asked her would she like to pay a house visit and check up on me to see how I was doing? She said she would and we arranged that she would call round on Friday night at about 6.30, and I gave her my address. For the next three days all I could think about was that upcoming Friday night; work suffered terribly, my boss called me in one day to ask if everything was ok “it seems like the lights are on but there's nobody in!” was his exact words; I said that I had something on my mind and that by next Monday I would be ok, whilst I was in his office I did ask if I could leave on Friday about two hours earlier than usual. He said that if it would help me in this situation of mine then fine. Friday 3pm came and I was out of the office like a shot; nipped into a chemist to buy two packets of condoms, usually I would have noticed the assistant's facial expression but I was so focused on later that night that I couldn't have cared if she laughed out loud to be honest. I got home and prepared myself by having a shower and put on my white towelling bath robe. I had got some food in but didn't know if she drank alcohol or not even though I had some wine in the fridge. 6.40 the buzzer on the entrycom went and sent my heart into my mouth; it was her, I let her in and waited – and then there she was in my doorway – I could feel a slight sensation of nervousness and suppressed sexual tension off her I led her into the living room and we sat down on the sofa; I thanked her for coming and very gingerly said “where would you prefer the check up to take place?” She said : “what about the bedroom? More space to move!” To be continued...