Happy Finish?

She asked me to undress and lie on her table. Her hands were all over my back and chest. Her deep penetrating stare held me entranced while she worked her magic. Then, near the end of our time together, she slipped her hand under the towel over my waist and took hold of my junk and said *I’m just going to ….*

Ok, stop. *She* was my new doctor, doing the very nonsexual equivalent of a mammogram on the boys, as part of a physical. Really a non-event. What? You expected pr0n, you sicko? Gewgle says that’s inappropriate.

Anyway, this was the first female doctor to ever get that up close and personal. When I made the appointment last week, I had until my July appointment (hot lady doctors are apparently booked up) to get my head around the concept, which almost seemed like enough time. Do some situps, borrow some Enzyte from OG Fred ;-), maybe hit a tanning booth. Yesterday, they said there was a cancellation for this morning, so it was time to crank the rationalization meter to 11. No big deal now, but 20 years ago I would have blown an aneurysm.

Or something.

To put things in perspective, on the sock relativity scale:

frisky strippers> Mr. Happy and the Boys *exams*> 30 foot anacondas> International Dave day commemorations ca. 1997> American Idol> Nebraska, Notre Dame or Ohio State football.

BTW, no, no *happy finish.*

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