“What’s she up to?” I wondered, but said nothing.
It actually felt good, and my pre-cum was flowing
again. More cool stuff and a bigger insertion. Two
fingers? Worming around. And then they curled and
pressed on my prostate. It was like an electric
shock. My whole body jerked and my asshole
clenched.

“Relax. Take it easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” I managed to murmur.

A giggle. Almost girlish, it was the first
departure from her cool, matter-of-fact
professional voice.

The probing finger or fingers touched my prostate
again through the anal wall. Again the electric
shock came, but I managed not to flinch or clench,
but my penis jerked and danced. And I felt my balls
sway in response.

Now the fingers began to rub, gently massaging,
pressing and releasing. The fingers scissored
inside me. Now I knew there were two-at least two-
fingers. They embraced the prostate, pressing on
both sides, stretching my rectum. Then slowly they
came together, rubbing over the gland as they did.
Then they found some magical place and I began to
tremble slightly. I may have grunted, but I know I
heard that girlish giggle again.

Those questing fingers knew where to go now, and
they did. Over and over again, they massaged,
pressed and released, passing over and retreating
from the magical place. Over and over I experienced
a jolt like an electric shock, though pleasant,
course through me, with an indescribable pleasure
in my throbbing, dangling penis. Although nothing
had touched them, or my penis either, the jerking
of my lonely member made my balls swing and sway
like the bells of Saint Mary’s on Sunday. I began
to ache for something to touch my swollen dick.

The fingers kept on stroking. The tension built up.
I reached the point of coming, but I didn’t. I know
I groaned. And still the tension built. I know it’s
not possible, but my penis felt as big and hard as
a baseball bat, but still the tension built.

Still they stroked. At each passage my straining
penis throbbed and jerked, and I felt another
string of pre-fluid course through and out. At one
point I actually heard it drop on the exam table’s
paper cover.

The fingers never relented – never rushed, never
slowed. Again and again they stirred that super-
sensitive spot, passing over it, though they never
left my prostate altogether.

At last I came.

Did anything touch my dick? I don’t think so, but I
can’t be sure. Maybe the lightest touch on the
underside of the glans – I don’t know.

But I exploded. I spurted, and after each spurt
those clever fingers stirred The Spot, and I
spurted again. I don’t know how often; many times.
I must have vocalized, I don’t remember. All I can
remember is the pounding of the blood in my ears
and that girlish giggle again and again, in time
with my jetting. It seemed to go on forever.