When at last it was over, I lay down – collapsed,
actually – on the table.

I dropped into my own mess, but I didn’t care; I
was too spent to care. For a few seconds, those
clever fingers stayed in me, but then slowly and
gently withdrew. I heard the snap of the latex
gloves coming off, then various sounds as Nurse
Arnesson finished writing her report and refiled my
dossier.

And for a while all I heard was my own ragged
breathing.

“Tissues are in that box,” she said when at last I
began to stir. “Just toss them on the table. Put
the gown in the laundry bin over there.”

She made no move to leave, nor did I bother to ask
for privacy. Why should I? She already knew me more
intimately than most girlfriends had! She just sat
behind the desk and watched me. Sitting up, I
shucked the cum-covered gown and tossed it in the
bin. Naked, I wiped myself off.

I stood, though a little shakily, to wipe the
excess lube jelly from between my cheeks.

“Just toss the used tissues in the table,” she
directed.

I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you”? or “That
was awesome”? I said nothing because the smirk on
her face as she watched me spoke volumes.

As I dressed, she said, “Call next week for the lab
results. I don’t expect anything. You are in
excellent health, just remember what I said about
examining yourself.”

A week later, I called. Nurse Rossi’s voice
answered. She found my file and said, “Oh yes, the
report is in. Everything is fine. The temp nurse
gave you high marks on all points. Hm, under
‘other’ she wrote ‘prodigious producer.’ What does
that mean, I wonder?”

I didn’t offer an explanation.