I was nineteen when I had my breasts examined for the first time by a medical professional.
I had gone to my General Practitioner with regard to some swelling on my neck. The doctor was an older gentleman with white hair, not quite elderly, but less than a decade from retirement. He was almost grandfatherly in his manner - caring and friendly yet professional and somewhat detached in his demeanor.
After he'd taken a brief medical history from me, and had felt around my neck and shoulders for lumps, he told me that that he'd need to examine my breasts - "safety first", he had said.
He asked me to hop up on the examining couch and remove my blouse, which I did. Then came the bra. I recall that it was white and somewhat lacy - almost transparent. My nippples were a shade of deep rose, and their outline was clearly visible through the sheer material - my boyfriend at the time used to love that. He would suck at them through the lace at any opportunity. I remember thinking that it was lucky that I had worn my best underwear, as I really hadn't ancitipated being half naked in front of a stranger, about to have my tits groped by a white-haired old man.
My right hand clasped behind my head by my left, arm raised and elbow bent; I remember thinking that his hands were beautifully soft, dry and cool as they palpated by breast in concentric circles. I stared at the posters on the wall of the surgery as the gentle yet firm fingers of this caring, professional, gentleman effectively fondled my tits.
I remember wondering whether or not he saw my breasts in a sexual way, and thinking what a priviledged position he was in, to be able to look at, and touch the breasts of the women of the local community. Did he ever find it titillating or arousing? Had he ever been tempted to flick or squeeze a nipple; or 'accidentally' graze the clitoral hood of a patient, legs secured in stirrups, and labia spread wide?
Of course, being an absolute professional, his touch was everywhere on my bare breasts except for my nipples. His voice was deep, soothing and calming as he told me there was nothing for me to worry about. Such a kindly gentleman, nurturing and utterly in control in his North London surgery, as he squeezed and stroked my exposed breasts.
His detached yet soothing and friendly demeanor has also been my experience of the others in the medical profession ever since. The exams generally follow the same pattern, and I often wonder what goes through the minds of these professional men and women as they help themselves to my breasts in the sterile environment of their office.