I was seeing the skin specialist at one of those “express care” clinics, due to some pain in the skin over my ribs, right side. Their dermatologist was a lovely eastern European woman in her early 40s, very talkative, friendly and warm.
She had me take off my shirt, and examined the affected area, soon determining there was nothing seriously wrong. She also inspected the skin at my back, my underarms, etc. She then asked, "While you're here, would you like me to do a full-body exam? No extra charge."
That sounded wonderful to me. I agreed, and she nodded. "Take off your pants and underwear, please."
Why are exam rooms so damned cold? I knew that between the temperature and the fact that I was wearing briefs (not boxers) that day, "Sparky" would be tucked into my scrotum. I'm comfortable with my erect length, which stats assure me is above the mean, and I wasn't looking to give her a show... but I was damned if I'd drop my pants in front of this beautiful, vivacious woman with Sparky misleadingly tucked away for the winter.
I made a minor, illusory fuss with my zipper and used the occasion to turn slightly away, to the right, surreptitiously using my right hand to tug Sparky down and out of the hangar while I lowered my briefs to join my now-open pants.
I let my pants and briefs slide to the floor, giving her a view of my hips and newly bare legs, and turned back to face her as I stepped out of them, with still-flaccid Sparky comfortably swaying slightly at what I could feel was adequate bottom-of-scrotum length.
It felt wonderful being fully naked in front of the beautiful, smiling woman in her white lab coat, with the hum of the florescent lights blessing us both.
She either hadn't noticed my covert tug, or wasn't letting on. She conducted a *very* thorough skin exam, including hips, parted hips, my upper thighs, my pubic mound, and when the time came, still chatting freely, she casually lifted Sparky off my scrotum to check his underside. Still holding him with her left hand, she used her right fingertips to smooth out the folds on the front of my nutsack, to inspect the skin there.
With her fingertips on my cock, I was starting to get hard, which she could not have failed to notice. But she took it all in stride, still chatting about growing up as an immigrant in the U.S., and lowered him when her inspection was finished.
During the time she was touching my cock and scrotum, I was SO glad I'd tugged Sparky out of his sleeping bag for that inspection. It only dawned on me, as I was pulling my pants back up, that as thorough and uninhibited as she was, this lovely doctor would probably *have pulled Sparky out, herself*... She couldn't have performed that inspection without doing so. That sensation, of her tugging and pulling him out, would have been well worth any premature underestimation of my length, on her part.
As I finished getting dressed, she said, "I really enjoyed talking with you. It's a good idea to have that kind of exam done once a year, so please let me see you again."
She can count on it. And unless I'm already semi-firm, from thinking about the prior exam, I think I'll skip my tug maneuver next time, and leave everything in her lovely hands.