Exactly What Doctor Prescribed
On a dreary February day, as thick clouds blanketed the sky, I stepped into a physiotherapy clinic. The gloom outside mirrored my mood. A lingering medical problem was casting a shadow over my life, and I felt scared and uncertain of what was to come.
I'm a middle-aged, decent-looking man, or at least that's what my friends say. I'm not a fitness fanatic, but I do cycle to work to maintain some level of physical fitness and avoid spending my entire day sitting at my desk. Around a year ago, I began experiencing discomfort in my upper thigh that gradually worsened. Soon I found it difficult to walk. My left upper thigh ached, and the pain radiated towards my buttock. It was time to seek medical attention.
I visited a physician, who referred me to an orthopedist. The specialist examined me and diagnosed an inflammation, then prescribed anti-inflammatory medication and recommended ten sessions of physiotherapy. He explained that my injury was uncommon for someone my age. "It's usually seen in women over sixty-five," he said.
I left his office feeling anxious. Why me? I questioned, and the doctor vaguely replied, "There's always a chance you get something unusual." After asking me a few questions, he surmised that my injury might have been caused by a minor cycling accident from a year prior that I hadn't seen treatment for.
I went online and located a nearby physiotherapy clinic. They directed me to a physical therapist, Dr. Sarah Nichols, who specialized in this specific issue. I could book an appointment with her for the following day at 4 pm.
I'd never been to a physiotherapist before, so I wasn't sure what to anticipate. My perverted mind, fueled by imagination and fantasies, thought of a massage and possibly more with a sexy woman attending to me. The appointment searching led to my mind wandering into all sorts of erotic films starring Dr. Sarah.
On the day of my appointment, my thoughts ran amok with excitement and apprehension. The prospect of an uncomfortable and potentially painful treatment process loomed, but while these thoughts dominated my mind, they also offered a distraction from the reality of the situation.
In the clinic's waiting area, I felt slightly out of place among the elderly patients queuing for their respective treatments. As the clock struck 4 pm, my name was called, and I entered the treatment room. Dr. Sarah Nichols was a slender woman in her forties, dressed in a crisp white lab coat.
I introduced myself, and she remarked, "Well, young man, that's a nice change. Normally I treat older women." I smiled suggestively, and she blushed slightly but remained professional. The treatment area was large and well-lit, with massage beds or tables separated by curtains to provide some privacy. She was treating several patients at once. Some were receiving infrared treatment under lamps, while others were doing exercises under her guidance.
As I stepped inside the curtain-divided space, she instructed me to take off my trousers and lie down face-down on the massage table. I reciprocated and, in an attempt to remove my boxer shorts, she interjected, "No, darling, your buttocks look delightful, but I don't need to see them."
With my shorts raised revealing my thigh, she began working her hands into the tight muscles. "You've got some very tight muscles here," she explained, explaining how she would knead and manipulate the muscles. The pain was excruciating, and I howled like a wounded animal. Despite the loud outbursts, she carried on until she had relaxed all the taut, painful muscles. She never accidentally brushed my private area, as I'd dreamt, but did manage to relieve the muscle tension.
Sarah instructed me to carry out a series of home exercises, one of which involved lying on my back and bending my legs, positioning my feet behind my buttocks. I was to lift my buttocks and then slowly lower them, before relaxing. This exercise had to be performed twenty times.
Our next session was scheduled. Sarah shifted her focus to my back. I disrobed, leaving on only my underwear. She slid the elastic band of my underpants below my bottom, exposing my buttocks as I lay face down. Despite knowing she had a clear view, my imagination conjured up visions of soft, feminine hands touching my backside. However, her actions yielded no such pleasurable outcome.
Massaging from my buttock to the upper part of my back, she applied immense pressure, aiming to relieve tension in my muscles. This caused discomfort instead of any joyous sensation. My penis was pressed into the massage table through my underpants during this process, but the pain overshadowed any erotic thoughts. Thankfully, her fingers didn't graze or linger between my cheeks.
Courageously, I inquired about her opinion on my derriere. She analyzed, "Your muscles are way too tight. Regular exercise is recommended. Although I appreciate the aesthetics of your backside." This response surprised me tremendously, and I was appreciative.
I heard the sound of rubber gloves being put on. Sarah commanded me to turn over. I experienced her hand in my mouth, massaging my cheeks. Although not as excruciating as the earlier massage, this procedure didn't help with the pain in my leg.
Sarah justified her unconventional tactics by sharing, "In physiotherapy, we utilize various techniques that may seem unconventional at first. It's called the holistic approach. While some colleagues are skeptical, I wholeheartedly believe in it."
Initially, each session began with immense discomfort, as she identified and addressed tight muscles and knots. This caused distress, yet fifteen minutes later, she switched to gentler massaging, alleviating the pain somewhat. We used this time to engage in light conversation, making the experience more enjoyable.
We discussed our shared interests, such as hobbies, favorite films, and restaurants. As we were both divorced, we also spoke about our personal lives. I inquired about potential fatigue from her repetitive work, and she replied," Yes, my entire body becomes drained by the day, and it wreaks havoc on my hands."
Bringing up the subject of undesired physical contact, I asked how she coped with the potential embarrassment. She shared that they receive training on dealing with these situations professionally. "We attempt to avoid removing clothing as much as possible. However, there are instances where this is unavoidable. For example, when massaging a man's inner thigh, I request him to remove his underpants."
I confessed, "I'd be okay with removing them if the treatment necessitates it."
She chuckled, "Forget about it, buddy. Your treatment does not warrant that."
She seemed enchanted by the topic, remarking, "Occasionally, men get erections. Some men even get excited when I massage their feet. Originally, this is noticeable, but I overlook it. If they acknowledge it and express remorse, I assure them it's normal in a healthy person. Sometimes, they hope for more, but of course, I refrain."
I voiced my bewilderment, "If you did, you'd risk being disqualified."
She replied, "The likelihood is considerably lower for females. Guys are less likely to file complaints if you touch them there, accidentally or purposely."
She recounted a variety of sarcastic replies to defuse such situations, "While some might think I have impaled their penis, I state 'Yes, this part clearly needs to be amputated, I can see the initial signs of penile gangrene.'" This left the patient stupefied, and their erections usually vanished before melting like ice cream on a scorching day.
My disbelief was palpable as I responded, "That's rather heartless of you!" I vowed, "I won't trust anything you say anymore."
Sarah didn't appear to mind my reaction. At the next physiotherapy session, she remarked, "Trust me, my job is not as fun as you might think." The truth behind this statement was about to be revealed.
Later, I gave it another go, "Don't be concerned about me, I'll tell you truthfully that I wouldn't file a complaint if you unintentionally touched a part of my body."
She quipped back, "Nice trick, you're attractive and mischievous, but don't misconstrue things. I can manage my desires."
She then delved deeper into her occupation's dangers, "Women wouldn't complain either. It's a bond between them. There's a plethora of erogenous zones for women. I can't always escape contact. But they don't object as long as it's another woman. However, my male counterparts have been dismissed due to accusations of inappropriate intimacy with women. And be cautious - some conservative males may accuse them of homosexual actions, which they strongly detest."
More therapy sessions unfolded, and I seemingly made no progress. Sarah mentioned, "We need to explore other solutions. There's a distinct form of treatment I'm familiar with. But I must first determine if you're eligible."
I inquired, "Does it cause pain?"
She assured, "No, it won't hurt. Most patients who've experienced it have positive reactions. We need a blood test and some confidential inquiries to check your suitability."
She gave me the paperwork for the bloodwork, then asked intrusive questions about my sex life. When last I'd had sex, what positions I'd attempted, if I had any sexually transmitted diseases and how they'd been treated - all these became questions for her. I informed her I'd been divorced for nearly four years, the last sexual encounter being nearly two months prior.
I was baffled by this entire encounter, and asked her why. She replied, "Your upcoming appointment's on Friday at 10. I'll divulge everything then."
When I arrived at the clinic on Friday, she didn't guide me to the common area we previously utilized, but rather a proprietary treatment room. This room had a massage table and a lower bed for other therapies.
After entering, she confirmed my qualification for this treatment, "This method was formulated by Prof. Madicott of Yale University's Medical Centre. I was his pupil, and I'm a staunch believer in his techniques. Though rather controversial, I want you to promise silence, or it may damage the clinic's reputation. Will you sign a non-disclosure agreement?"
I questioned whether this controversial aspect meant potential mortal danger, and she replied, "No, nothing like that. It's unlikely to be something you'll dislike. I'm not able to guarantee a full cure, though. You're like a test subject in that regard."
I consented, "Yes, I'll sign. Please provide more information."
Again, she expounded on the holistic approach. This time, it included sexual organs. Only male ones, it seemed, because this treatment lacked a female counterpart.
She claimed, "Your sexual organs aren't merely connected to the rest of your body, but they're also smack dab in the middle of your pain region. Hence, it's not surprising they may play a vital role. The premise of Madicott's theory is that the type of pain you suffer stems from insufficient or inaccurate pelvic motion. Prof. Madicott noticed this odd type of pain is incredibly uncommon in men, but when it does occur, it's prevalent in middle-aged men who aren't engaging in regular intercourse."
I was growing more intrigued, yet somewhat skeptical, so I inquired, "So, this wouldn't benefit women, correct?"
She concurred, "Correct. However, consider the prevalence of your ailment in women. It adds up."
She shared that Prof. Madicott postulated surprising connections, "He reasons that many ailments stem from inadequate sexual intercourse, but many of my colleagues dismiss that notion."
"So was Prof. Madicott validated?" I demanded.
She responded, "Not quite. He was dismissed for sexual misconduct a few years ago. He was once regarded as the Freud of physiotherapy. Obviously, some of his peers were envious and utilized the sexual aspects of his treatment against him."
"But I largely agree with Prof. Madicott," she said. "Therefore, I must determine if your problem may stem from a lack of sexual intercourse."
"Is the solution to my problem more intimacy?" I inquired excitedly. "But who would be my partner? I don't currently have someone to date. Will my insurance cover a woman to help me out with that?"
"Hold up a minute, silly," Sarah replied. "First, let's get a diagnosis."
She instructed me to remove all my clothing and lie down on the massage table, face up.
"Completely undress?" I questioned.
"Yes, please take off your underwear as well. This new therapy doesn't follow the rules I told you a few weeks ago."
So, I discarded all my clothes, feeling a bit perplexed but trying not to imagine the saucy scenarios that could unfold. I was lying on the table, my soft penis facing upwards, as she positioned her face close to it. She cupped my groin area and moved my balls from side to side, carefully examining the situation. I couldn't help but feel like she was playing with it.
Then, she requested me to do the glute-lifting exercise I'd been instructed to perform daily. As I raised my buttocks, she placed her fingers above my anus and then moved them up, barely touching my skin. Then, she continued stroking them across my balls, and eventually glided them over the penis shaft towards the head. What a delightful sensation!
She recommended, "Try to incorporate this into your routine at home. It relaxes your genital region and entices you to do the exercises daily."
To my astonishment, I didn't immediately stand at attention because I was still focused on the medical procedure. However, she suggested I engage in the exercise several times, and finally, my mind started to change, and I began to feel the early stirrings of excitement.
She noticed, giggled, and stated, "You're starting to get a little excitement there, aren't you? Don't stress, this is completely normal. But you need to relax more."
Later on, I recognized that by "relax more" she meant, "your erection needs to get harder."
A knock at the door interrupted us, and I instinctively covered my groin. Sarah commented, "Don't sweat it. That's my assistant. She's seen all this before. Come in, Lucille."
Lucille entered with a key and went to the massage table. She was a lovely woman around 25 years old, with a cute oval face, long brownish hair, and an adventurous vibe. She concealed her body with a white lab coat, so it was difficult to assess her figure.
She eyed my erection and beamed with glee, "Impressive!"
Sarah inspected, "Yes, but he still needs to loosen up some more. Maybe you can take over."
Lucille grabbed my cock and started softly manipulating it. My penis stiffened, but not to her apparent satisfaction. I'm still not sure why I didn't get an instant woody when this beautiful young girl started exploring my penis. I must've been in total confusion about my predicament.
"Chill out," she advised.
Then she took my hand and pushed it into the front of her lab coat, after opening a couple of buttons. I felt her bare tummy and then was led down towards her belly button, touching an area that felt different and foreign. It was slightly damp and exciting. We crossed paths to her pubic region where she untucked her lab coat, revealing her naked pussy. Her smooth mound was inviting. Even with Sarah on the other side of the bed, I discreetly investigated this incredible find.
I explored her voluptuous areas with my finger, discovering her pussy lips, clitoris, and her vagina's entrance. I penetrated her and was rewarded with a satisfying sigh.
Now, my massive erect penis was ready to play. Lucille, still holding it, smiled and said, "Now we're talking. This is perfect!"
"Is he relaxed enough, Lucille?" asked Sarah. "Then let's move on to the next step."
The rest of the procedure was astonishing. Lucille shed her lab coat, revealing her curvaceous body. She looked very seductive now that all of her attractive features were exposed. Her pussy beckoned temptingly to me. If she'd ripped off her clothes from the start, maybe I would have attained full arousal sooner. Or maybe I would have been even more perplexed.
Sarah instructed me to enter Lucille's inviting vagina.
"You want me to have sex with her?" I asked in a state of complete bewilderment.
"Please avoid crass language at the doctor's office," chastised Sarah. "We call this 'anchor point-constrained pelvic motion'. This is the anchor point," she emphasized, pointing at Lucille's vagina. "Your penis will be fixed in that position. Plunge it in, and make your body's natural motions."
I inched my penis into Lucille's beckoning vagina, experiencing her warm, comforting wetness. My body automatically started performing the required movements. Sarah placed her fingers on my behind and under my stomach, correcting my thrusts. "Move slowly; lean forward with your pelvis," she instructed.
I began having doubts about the entire treatment, but it was quite enjoyable, so I kept them to myself.
For a few minutes, I was thrusting into Lucille, trying my hardest to not come because I thought that wasn't part of the treatment. I saw Lucille's bra-covered breasts in front of me, and couldn't resist running my hands over them.
Sarah said sternly, "The breasts aren't part of Professor Madicott's treatment."
Lucille said, "But it will make him more relaxed. I'll take it off," and she removed her bra, revealing a pair of full, luscious breasts.
Sarah was the one in control, trying to slow me down so much that I wouldn't finish. Lucille started moaning with pleasure. "Don't worry Lucille," Sarah said, "that's completely normal."
Sarah touched my balls and part of my penis while it was going in and out of Lucille's vagina.
"Self-control is crucial now," she said, "We need to prolong this exercise for a few more minutes."
Her voice had taken on a husky quality, and her cheeks seemed a little flushed.
After a while, Sarah said, with an unusual, slightly raspy voice, "Everything is going well, but we might need a second anchor point."
She removed her lab coat and then stripped down to her underwear. She wasn't wearing any sexy lingerie, just plain large cotton briefs and a simple bra. She removed the briefs, revealing a thick, untrimmed bush. It wasn't a huge dark bush as in those old porn movies, but it hadn't been trimmed in a while, so it was more like a natural beaver.
She straddled the bed, with her legs on either side of Lucille's head, with her beaver above Lucille's mouth. Then she moved my head toward her crotch. "Please put your tongue there," she said, pointing to her plump vagina with its juicy lips, "and start licking from top to bottom. This will fix your body to a second anchor point."
However, this was nearly impossible to achieve.
I complained about pain in my neck, and Sarah said, "No cure without pain. If you want to get better, lick my vagina."
Her vagina had a strong, somewhat shellfish-like scent that wasn't unpleasant. I would've loved to lick it longer and make her climax, but the position of my head made that difficult.
About a minute later, I had to give up, and said, "I'm sorry for Professor Madicott, but I can't do it."
Sarah admitted, "This isn't standard Madicott treatment, it was my own idea. Don't blame him."
Then Lucille said, "If you want, I could lick your pussy, Sarah. That's much easier in my position."
The whole scheme unraveled at that point. It wasn't about curing my leg pain, but making Sarah come. In addition, Lucille used the word "pussy" instead of the medical term "vagina" they'd been using.
I continued to play along for a bit, and told Sarah, "How about you take off your bra? Seeing your big boobs will make me more relaxed."
I'm sure she knew from my tone that I'd seen through it all, but she decided to play along as well. She took off her bra, and I fondled and licked her large breasts while fucking Lucille. Meanwhile, Lucille was sucking Sarah's clit, and Sarah climaxed rather suddenly and forcefully.
I figured we'd been planning this carefully, so I decided not to hold back any longer and came inside Lucille. I supposed the ladies had prepared this carefully. The blood test and the questions about my sex life had been meant to find out if we could have unprotected sex. That implied that Lucille had been on birth control, so I was allowed to cum inside her. I let out some loud groans during the final moments. Fortunately, we were in a separate room.
At that moment, Sarah and Lucille exclaimed, almost simultaneously, "April Fool!"
I said, "What?!""
Sarah explained, "It's April Fool's Day today, and we pulled one over on you!"
I was still stunned, and said, "You set up this elaborate prank to have me fuck Lucille as an April Fool's Day joke?"
Sarah said, "I should tell you how this happened. You see, Lucille is my niece, and she's not really working here. But one day she came to visit me, and she saw you, and she liked what she saw.
"She asked me, 'Uncle Sarah, who's that hunk?'"
"I replied, 'That's Mr. Garrett. I'm going to massage his buttocks.'"
"Lucille got a bit jealous and said, 'Aunt Sarah, could I come in and help massage his cock?'"
Sarah said, "I told her that wasn't part of the treatment. But Lucille didn't give up and said, 'Then we should perhaps modify the treatment.'"
Sarah explained, "You see, Lucille and I share a naughty side. We both understand each other." I assured her I knew exactly what she meant.
So, we came up with this hilarious scheme you just witnessed. I believed I knew you well enough not to upset you with it. We had quite a bit of fun devising the Madicott theory and made up medical lingo like 'statically fixed pelvic motion'.
Oh, and you may have noticed that there was a second anchor point that wasn't part of the initial scheme. I improvised that during your saucy encounter with Lucille. I wanted to give my clitoris some tender loving care. But it didn't go quite as planned.
I remarked, "Regardless of your orgasm, it turned out well."
She replied, "I wasn't expecting to be so engrossed in this activity. I would have dressed more appropriately and maintained my private areas better if I'd known beforehand. I wonder if I had a foul odor."
"I enjoy a scrumptious seafood feast sometimes," I responded.
Lucille chimed in, "Devouring your vagina, Aunt Sarah, was a delightful feast. You can ask me to do it again anytime."
Sarah responded, "I hope you appreciate the joke and enjoyed it. We signed a confidentiality agreement, so please keep that in mind. Although, filing a complaint wouldn't help you much in court, but of course, I have no complaints. In fact, I have an offer: no disclosing anything to anyone if I get the remaining sessions for free. Of course, I'll include some more statically fixed pelvic motions."
Sarah chuckled, "Deal. I think Lucille will be happy to join us."
Lucille giggled, "Yes, please!"
Sarah continued, "We can also try different anchor points and different positions. We can even explore some moves from the Kamasutra. It's not only for sexual positions, you know. It's an ancient guide to physiotherapy. Few understand that because they can only see the pictures, not read the text in Sanskrit."
I chuckled and saw that this was another practical joke.
Even though I knew the entire Madicott treatment was a phony, there was one aspect I integrated into my everyday fitness routine. I started doing these exercises fully stripped and gave myself a reward after completing each portion by caressing my penis and testicles. I gently slid my fingers across my perineum, up to my balls, and held my penis's tip. Sarah had introduced me to this sensational sensation. While I fantasized erotically, I found that my penis often turned erect. Sometimes I reached orgasm, but I didn't always insist on masturbating if it wasn't smooth. I had to conserve my libido for the clinic! But indeed, it made the exercises more inviting. They transformed from an annoying chore to an amusement.
I enjoyed several more therapeutic sessions at the clinic. Many health-boosting orgasms for all three of us, optimizing our wellbeing. This was a healthcare facility, after all. As Prof. Madicott might have said, "Orgasms are an antidote for various ailments."
I enjoyed sexual intercourse with Sarah and Lucille in a variety of enticing positions. Some caused discomfort in muscles I'd neglected for years. So, there was indeed some actual physiotherapy taking place. Because of that, or maybe in spite of it, my leg pain is now less excruciating. If it becomes unbearable again, I'll know where to go for relief.
Read also:
- Dex Dangerfield Enjoys Swinger Parties, Episode 4
- "Bonnie's Turn in Our 6-Level Orgy"
- Chapter 10: A Rooster's Grip
- Uncovering His Identity Chapter 7:
Source: www.nice-escort.de
