Written By: Annonymous

Like many women, I have a love/hate relationship with gyn exams. I will admit to occasionally fantasizing about the whole gyn environment; i.e., being nude and exposed in a sterile environment, being gently immobilized and involuntarily spread open, and having my most intimate body parts viewed, touched, probed, penetrated and manipulated by strangers. I even find myself horny for a few days after completing a gyn exam and the fantasies usually manifest themselves just prior to and soon after my annual exams. However, with the exception of the exam I am about to describe, I have never found the actual exams to br the slightest bit erotic. Rather, I find them embarrassing, approached with considerable nervous anxiety, and endured with a degree of discomfort bordering on pain. I undergo them as an unpleasant necessity. This particular exam had a much bigger reaction and it wasn't a fantasy.

I'm 36 years old, and not bad looking if I say so myself. I've always had a busty, but otherwise slim and shapely figure. I have managed to stay trim and reasonably fit over the years and use a weight machine and stair stepper for about 45 minutes every morning. I'm five foot six and my weight stays around 130 pounds. I have long, thick, mahogany hair which is my pride and joy, and I have always rejoiced that I had red hair without a red head's complexion, i.e., no freckles and I tan rather than burn. I was married back in my early twenties, but have been single for over ten years since the divorce. I date frequently, but don't have a steady boyfriend. I don't sleep around, but when all the stars are aligned correctly, I am not adverse to a roll in the hay. I just rarely seem to have time for it. I have a high level management job which I love - I enjoy the challenges, relish the prestige, and grin all the way to the bank. The only drawback is the time I devote to the job. I routinely work 10+ hour days with rarely a minute to spare. My weekends are usually free, but full of business related social functions, recreational activities, and travel.

I utilize a women's clinic near my home for all my healthcare needs, and have used the same doctor for nearly ten years. My first appointment with Dr. G was an accident of timing. He had recently entered practice at the clinic, and I was new in town and a first time patient at the clinic. He was a nice looking guy, about my age, married, very professional, very gentle, and easy to talk to. After that initial appointment, I always requested him for my gyn exams. Though I rarely see a doctor between annual exams, Dr. G has always been available on short notice for my other medical needs. A little over a year ago, I had a call from the clinic asking if I was still an active patient, and reporting that it had been more than eighteen months since my last gyn check up and Pap smear. Just too much to do, and not enough time in which to do it. I asked if they could schedule a weekend appointment for my overdue exam, but was told the clinic was no longer open on weekends. When I explained my situation, the receptionist suggested I contact Dr. G directly to see if he could work something out. I did, and as it turns out, he was to be "on call" the following weekend. He suggested that if I could come in early Saturday morning, he would make arrangements to do an exam even though the clinic was officially closed. I agreed and made the appointment. The appointment was only a couple of days away, and with my busy schedule, I didn't have time to fantasize about it or even get my usual pre-exam butterflies.

On the day of the appointment, I arrived at the clinic around eight o'clock in the morning and found that Dr. G and an elderly receptionist were the only people there. Dr. G apologized and said he had tried to contact me that morning to cancel the appointment as his nurse had begged off at the last minute due to some personal problem. Therefore, nobody was available to act as a nurse/chaperone. I asked the receptionist if she could do it, but she looked aghast at the idea, and rather huffily remarked that she was a part time clerk/typist and was not qualified to do that sort of thing. As that particular day was about the only free time I had available during the next several weeks, I asked if it was possible to do the exam without a chaperone. Dr. G said it was okay with him as long as I was comfortable with it; however, I would have to sign a request form and a waiver of liability that were clinic requirements. Fine by me. I always thought a nurse/chaperone was unnecessary anyway. I signed the request and the waiver, filled out some other forms and we headed down the hall to an exam room.

Dr. G explained that being "on call" meant that he just had to be available for emergencies and be responsive to a pager. On this particular weekend his family was out of town and he would have been sitting at home with little to do so a weekend exam wasn't even an inconvenience. However, he explained that in addition to having no chaperone that there were no lab people available and that he would have to do their usual part of the exam, plus locate all the instruments and other details that the nurses usually took care of. It all added up to the fact that this exam would be a bit different from my previous exams.

He escorted me into one of the exam rooms and invited me to have a seat while he located the necessary equipment. He produced several instruments, a box of latex gloves, a box of tissues, a specimen cup, a huge looking metal speculum and several other items to include a pink paper exam gown which he handed to me. I suddenly had the pre-exam butterflies - all it took was one look at that speculum. But with some effort I managed to remain relatively relaxed as he continue to rummage in the cabinets. He muttered that he had no idea where the nurses kept the drapes and said he would have to go look elsewhere. He said he also had to make a stop at the lab for some other items, so it might be a few minutes before he returned. He suggested that while he was out of the room, I should get undressed, put on the gown, and produce a urine specimen. I really didn't understand what he was looking for, but agreed to be ready when he got back.

After he left the room, I peeled off my blouse and bra and slipped off my slacks. I never have been bashful about leaving myself exposed, particularly when I am alone. In fact, I sort of enjoy the sensation of being nude and alone in a strange, but safe, place. Removing my bra has always been one of the little pleasures in life. It gives me a sense of freedom and I find that hanging free is a bit sensual. Fully dressed, I am rarely aware of my breasts. But immediately after taking off my bra, I am acutely aware of their weight and I invariably cup and massage them for a few moments, and pinch the nips just feel them harden. I'm proud of my nips also. They are prominent without being particularly large, and they are a dark auburn color like my hair. At home I usually take the opportunity to admire myself in the mirror and examine my breasts for lumps or other abnormalities. But the exam room didn't have a mirror and this didn't seem the time or the place for a self exam, so a quick massage and nip pinch was all I indulged in. I slipped into the paper gown which was pretty loose but covered me up reasonably well from neck to knees. As usual with paper gowns, it was flimsy, had no means to fasten it together, and failed to provide any sense of security, whatsoever. I put it on like a jacket with the opening in front. In retrospect, that was a bad decision with embarrassing consequences - I should have put it on with the opening in the back. I took the designated specimen cup into the small bathroom, peeled off my panties and sat for a few minutes trying to relax enough to urinate. I finally filled the cup and emptied my bladder, wiped and washed my hands. As I left the bathroom with the cup in one hand and my panties in the other, Dr. G rapped on the door and then barged in. Needless to say, as both of my hands were full, the paper gown was covering up my shoulders and not much else. He pretended not to notice, but I was certifiably embarrassed as I fumbled to quickly put down the cup and attempted to clutch the gown together. That chore accomplished, I tossed the panties on top of my other clothes and climbed up to sit on the end of the exam table while trying to maintain as much dignity as possible. Things were not off to a good start and the butterflies were fluttering with gay abandon.

Setting a tray of equipment down on a table, Dr. G said he had been unable to find drapes to cover my legs, but would use an extra gown to do the job. Finally understanding what he had been looking for, I suggested that leg drapes were unnecessary and an extra gown was not needed. During previous exams, the nurse always asked if I wanted my legs draped while they were up in the air for the pelvic exam but I always declined so I could see the doctor during the exam. I managed to forget that I usually did have a small sheet across my lap regardless of whether my legs were draped or not. No sheet was offered and I decided not to delay things further by asking about it. It occurred to me later that the small sheet probably was the drape Dr. G was looking for.

To get things underway, Dr. G asked me to step back down and get on the scales in the corner of the room. I complied, still clutching the paper gown together with both hands. Next, he had me sit down while he drew blood. I was acutely aware that the pink gown was not hiding much of my anatomy and I tried to console myself that he was a doctor, and this was all necessary to complete the exam. Despite my squeamishness towards needles, the blood letting was quick and painless. Dr. G proved to be a real pro when it came to wielding a needle. That chore completed, he directed me back to the exam table, where I sat while he took my blood pressure, checked my pulse and took my temperature. Then he began the exam routine - peering into my eyes, ears, nose and throat with lighted instruments, followed by a stethoscope exam of my heart and lungs and banging on my knees with a little rubber mallet. I remember consciously trying to maintain a good posture by sitting up very straight whi!
le he examined me and fighting the urge to slump over to help conceal myself. I made a few feeble attempts to keep the gown together, but basically just let it fall open as he wielded his stethoscope. I actually found it a bit humorous that he had to lift each breast slightly with the back of his hand while listening to the lower part of my lungs - just a confirmation that I was "stacked" and that he was unintentionally acknowledging that fact while maneuvering his stethoscope.

We exchanged a bit of small talk before and during the exam, but mostly the conversation was limited to questions and answers about my medical history. The first time it even occurred to me that there was no chaperone present was when it was time to examine my breasts. First, he had me open the gown and slip it off my shoulders to expose both breasts while he stood at the foot of the table to observe them. He then had me to put my hands on my hips with my fingers pointing down and push in while pulling my elbows back as far as possible. This tightened my pecs and caused my breasts to stand up and out. He had done this on previous breast exams, so I assumed he was checking for symmetry or something, and not just admiring the view. Not that it mattered at this point. As proud as I am of my breasts, his steady gaze still caused me to blush and avoid looking directly at him. He then asked me to lie back and pulled out a table extension out to support my lower legs. Usually, a nurse would help me lie down, position a pillow under my shoulder, move my arm up under my head, and reposition the gown to delicately expose one breast at a time. This time the doctor did it all himself, placing a folded up towel under my left shoulder and asking me to put my arm under my head. The gown was still off my shoulders so both breasts were completely exposed. With no lap sheet available and the gown opened wide, I was acutely aware that my crotch was every bit as exposed as my breasts. Again, Dr. G. appeared not to notice, but I was certifiably embarrassed. Dr. G proceeded to examine each breast slowly and professionally, probing deeply into the breast tissue and thoroughly manipulating all areas of each breast to include feeling around in my armpits. He took a couple of minutes on each breast though it seemed much longer than that. I have always wondered if it takes less time to examine women with small breasts. Mine are D cups and breast exams always seem to take forever. As usual, the pressures he exerted during the exam bordered on discomfort and left me feeling very aware of my breasts. As he finished with each breast, he squeezed it firmly in the middle with a milking motion toward the nipple. While not particularly uncomfortable, the sensation invariably makes that nipple feel like it is engorged to the bursting point. I find breast exams to be mildly embarrassing, but usually not painful, and, with some imagination, I can make the breast exam out to be a massage. As he finished the exam, he announced that there were no unusual findings - thankfully - but that, considering my age, I should schedule an initial mammogram in the near future. Finally, he repositioned the gown to cover my breasts. Though he didn't intend for it to happen, and probably wasn't even aware of it, the gown material sliding across my firmly erected nipples produced a sensual jolt and more embarrassment on my part.

The usual belly prodding and thumping followed the breast exam - and again I was very aware of being naked. My hands clutched the gown together over my breasts, but otherwise it was completely open as he was checking my liver and stomach. With no sheet or drape across my legs, I was completely exposed from my navel all the way down to my toes. A glance toward my feet revealed my pubic hair to be very much in evidence. By the way, it, too, is a dark mahogany color. I started counting the holes in the ceiling tiles to counter the mounting embarrassment and to avoid making eye contact with Dr. G as he prodded my innards. The butterflies returned with a vengeance as soon as I realized the routine part of the exam was about over and the pelvic was about to start. It was a familiar anxiety which I always feel at this point during every gyn exam I have ever had.

Again, things were a bit awkward as a nurse/chaperone usually helped set up the stirrups and helped get my legs into position for the pelvic exam. I have always felt a surge of embarrassment as I am being positioned for a pelvic and it was worse this time as Dr. G set things up and got me positioned to his satisfaction. As usual, I was asked to slide closer to the end of the table. I have never figured out why this is necessary, but it is invariably part of getting positioned for a pelvic. I was sure my cheeks were flaming and it seemed like an eternity after my legs went up until he actually started the exam. There's nothing quite like lying there with my legs wide apart and my crotch exposed while anticipating the exam to come. Most of the exam tables I had been on previously either had a pillow under my head, or had the head of the table raised enough that I could see the doctor between my legs with no effort. In this case; however, the table was flat, and I could only stare at the ceiling. I tried using an arm to prop my head up, but that movement immediately caused the gown to flop open. Consequently, I gave up trying to watch the doctor, and went back to holding the top of the gown together. As all else was wide open to the elements, I told myself to relax and proceeded with the ceiling tile count. Dr. G positioned a bright light on my crotch and I could feel the heat from the lamp on my bare bottom. I remember the warmth being pleasurable and somewhat relaxing despite the fact that all my private parts were now illuminated as well as exposed.

As usual, Dr. G began the exam with some gentle probing around my genitals. He started by gently pushing my clitoral hood up which always sends a shiver up my spine. I have no idea of why he does this, but it has always been part of his exam. He then sort of finger rolls both sides of my inner and outer labia looking for whatever, and finished by inserting a finger into the entrance of my vagina and probing a bit on either side. As usual, this initial part of the exam was a bit sensual and was even more so this time with the warmth from the light. I kept my eyes closed and tried to concentrate my attention on something other than my crotch. Then came the speculum and the Pap smear. Speculums have never really hurt me, but they are invariably cold, hard, uncomfortable, and produce an unnaturally vulnerable feeling as it is inserted. Most of my exams have featured plastic "throw away" speculums, but this time it was a shiny metal device which appeared huge and complicated. He kept it out of my view as he maneuvered it into my vagina, but I had seen it on the counter before the exam. As he always did, Dr. G began by inserting his fingers a short distance into my vagina, turning and spreading them open laterally while pushing down gently. He inserted the speculum blades between his fingers which he removed as he maneuvered the speculum into position. The speculum was cold and hard as usual, though its insertion did seem a bit smoother and easier than previous exams. The opening of the speculum always leaves me a bit breathless and I have to work to stay relaxed. I swear I can feel cold air rush inside of me as the blades are opened. It was no different this time. And, as usual, once the speculum was opened up, it felt like my vaginal opening was being stretched to the max. Strangely, the stretching was more sensual than painful and I remember thinking that speculum exams were not supposed to be pleasurable. Apparently, Dr. G noticed that I tensed up a bit, as he quietly suggested that I relax. Yeah, sure! Relaxing during a speculum exam has to be the oxymoron of all oxymorons. I had the usual mild cramping as he peered into my vagina and scraped my cervix with an instrument, but otherwise the exam was done quickly and with no other comments from the doctor. After putting the smear in a sealed test tube, Dr. G again peered into my wide open vagina, using a small flashlight. Apparently satisfied that all was normal, he closed the speculum and slowly removed it, much to my relief - especially when he closed the monster. Removal of a speculum always seems to relax me and I always exhale as if I had been holding my breath. Maybe I had. Once the speculum part of my annual exam is over, the butterflies usually go away and I find it somewhat easier to relax.

After stowing the instruments and the Pap smear tube, Dr. G said he was going to examine my uterus and ovaries and that I should continue to relax and help by pushing down slightly. Yeah. Sure. Relax. However, the internal exam usually doesn't bother me. Thanks to a copious amount of KY Jelly, there was no discomfort as Dr. G slowly slid his fingers deep into my vagina, just a feeling of wetness and fullness. I am always surprised how easily and how deeply a doctor's fingers penetrate me, as compared to the penis of any of my male partners. I suppose it is the copious amount of KY jelly that doctors use and perhaps a more precise angle of insertion. Dr. G's probings were gentle but quite thorough and he seemed to take more time than usual. He did considerable pushing on my lower abdomen with his free hand and his internal probing occasionally caused some mild cramping. Twice he asked if he was causing any discomfort. I assume he was massaging an ovary each time he asked. I could feel considerable pressure deep inside my lower abdomen - not painful, but disconcerting. Due to the mild discomfort and the time he seemed to be taking, I was a bit concerned that he had found something wrong. Completely out of the blue, and more as an attempt to create a distraction than as a conscious query, I asked if he would point out my "G" spot when he had a chance. He appeared slightly amused and said something to the effect that the "G" spot was still not verified as a medical fact. However, his "inside" fingers stopped probing deep in my pelvis and shifted to the area at the top of my pelvic bone. He explained that the area that he was touching inside was supposed to be the theoretical "G" spot. Suddenly, I felt, or thought I felt, my clitoris expand and the hood of my clitoris slide up toward my belly. Instantly, I was in the midst of the strongest orgasm I have ever felt. It seemed to continue forever, with strong, surging vaginal contractions while every other muscle in my body went absolutely rigid. It felt like waves were rolling up my body beginning with my toes and continuing up over my head. My heart was pounding and I became aware that I was gasping like I couldn't catch my breath. As the sensations began to ease, I realized I was arching my back and that I had a death grip on the sides of the table. It was all I could do to keep from shrieking. In fact, I may have cried out, as I seemed to have lost all awareness for a few seconds. As I slowly relaxed back to a normal posture, I felt him pull his fingers out of me and the effect caused another mild orgasmic spasm. As the spasms ended; mortification set in. I could feel waves of embarrassment wash over my body, and my face, neck and chest felt like they were on fire. I had my eyes closed and couldn't bear to look at the doctor. I heard him say something to the effect that he still needed to do a rectal exam and then he would be through. I never enjoy rectal exams, in fact I positively hate them and they are always very uncomfortable. But I didn't even feel this one and it was over very quickly. He made a couple of swipes across my labia and my rear with a damp towel and then said that the exam was over and that I could get dressed. Still, I could not open my eyes or say anything and it occurred to me that he was probably as embarrassed as I was. He said the results of the Pap smear would be mailed to me and to call him if I had any questions. I didn't respond, but nodded slightly to acknowledge his instructions. However, I continued to lie there with my eyes closed until I heard him leave the room.

I lay on the table completely exhausted, with my legs still spread, my feet in the stirrups, and my crotch still exposed to the elements. I was sweating profusely and I could feel fluid oozing out of me and sliding down the cheeks of my butt. I remember wondering if it was the lubricant the doctor had used, or lubricating fluids of my own. My pelvic muscles ached and quivered slightly from the intensity of the orgasm. I started crying softly, more from embarrassment than anything else. I had never had anything like this happen before and I didn't have any inkling that it was going to happen this time. My mind raced with thoughts like: "Oh, my God, I can't believe this happened." "What does he think of me?" "This doesn't happen to nice girls." " Did I really ask for him to show me my G spot?" "Did he actually touch my clit again or was it my imagination?" "Do I need to see a shrink?" "How will I ever face this doctor again?" "Will I be the butt of jokes with his doctor buddies?" And finally, "How can I get out of this building without seeing him or the receptionist?"

After a few minutes, I managed to extricate myself from the stirrups and slide off the table. I can't ever remember feeling as drained as I then did. As I tried to walk to the bathroom, my legs were so shaky that I sat down on a chair by the door. Copious amounts of fluid were running down my legs and I knew I was making an obscene wet spot on the fabric of the chair. More mortification and I started to cry again. I finally staggered into the bathroom and cleaned up. What I really wanted was a hot bath, but there were no facilities available. I was still shaky as I got dressed and tried to disguise my red eyes with make up. I finally opened the door, and, not seeing anyone in the hall, slipped out of the exam room and headed back to the reception area. The receptionist was not at her desk, so I quickly bolted out the front door and headed for home. Once there, I took a long, hot bath, crawled in bed and cried myself to sleep. I didn't wake up until late in the evening.

By Monday morning, I was well recovered, and had my self confidence back. However, I had spent the weekend reliving the exam, the orgasm and my embarrassment over it. I finally rationalized that only the doctor and I knew what happened and it would be a year or more before I saw him again, if ever. In fact, over time, I began to recall the orgasm as something pleasurable and even began to include it in some of my fantasies. Invariably; however, the memory of the embarrassment I felt following the orgasm came flooding back. Over the next year, I replayed the scene many times and came to grips with the fact that it had actually happened. I convinced myself that the orgasm was not necessarily the doctor's fault, nor mine. I considered changing doctors, but felt I had to see the same guy, both for my benefit and his. Fortunately, I had a whole year to consider it.

A year later, the memory of the special exam and the orgasm still seemed fresh in my mind. However, I decided that the only way to get over it was to go back to the same clinic and the same doctor for my next exam. I made sure the next exam was a mid-week appointment, but I still worried that the doctor would say something or if I would again be sexually aroused. It would be even more embarrassing to have it happen a second time with a nurse/chaperone in the room. However, I found Dr. G to be as professional, thorough and gentle as ever, and the previous exam was not mentioned. And, despite my worries, the exam was completed without any unexpected reactions on my part though I still had butterflies and minor cramping and I still had to concentrate to stay relaxed. I have since learned that other women sometimes have unexpected orgasms or become sexually aroused during gyn exams and wonder at the cause. Was it the "G" spot? Did he stroke my clit? I'll never know, but I'll always wonder what he thought when I clamped down on his fingers. It had to have been painful.