Monday, 7 January 2013

Dropping my pants for the doctor


Got to book my next appointment at the sexual health clinic tomorrow.  I have to have a certificate that is not more than 30 days old and given it can take 5 days to get all the results it means a trip to London every three weeks.

Before last year I had been to the clinic just twice before; both thirty year ago.  The first time was after an ex-girlfriend phoned to suggest that I should visit as she had just been tested positive for an STD.  I didn't ask and she didn't offer a view as the source and if she thought me as the culprit.  Any way it didn't matter as I was clean.

The second time was after a friend’s stag night.  The Best Man was clear about the agenda for the evening.  Meet in a pub, dinner in a restaurant and then a private show back at Mark’s flat.  You will know where the anticipation was focused.  

A dozen of us arrived back there and two girls arrived and gave us a grand, personal and close up show; first individually and then they did an act together.  We had seen what we paid for and so after a whip round (no puns) the next show began.  

We were mainly sat on the floor, a few on the sofas.  The girl, wearing only a skimpy bikini, walked into the lounge through a door almost diagonally across from me and she just kept on walking in my direction.  It may be a little personal vanity but I am sure her eyes were on me all the way and I never lost eye contact. 

She headed to me, asked me to stand and stripped me and then lost the little she was wearing.  My biggest concern at that moment was nothing to do with sex or naked in front of my mates.  I wondered if I looked ridiculous wearing just my socks!!  

Anyway she laid me back on the floor, gave me a really good BJ and then squatted on me until I came deep in her pussy.  All my mates watched on but I managed to block that out with the feeling of my cock in a very tight pussy (yes that surprised me as well). These were the days pre AIDS.  Anyway, I thought a trip to the clinic was necessary.

But now my visits are business.  

Initially I chose the Lydia Clinic which is part of St Thomas’ Hospital.  I sat there among many others – men and women are segregated - and read my book.  Called into to see the nurse I had to go through a life history of partners and sex.  

My personal life had been varied but it had to be exaggerated and the future rolled into the past to make sure I had all the right tests.  Females; yes.  Males; yes.  Oral, anal, give receive; yes.  Singles  yes.  Groups; yes. European, Asian or African;yes.  I must have sounded like a total slut especially as I had to explain that this was just my personal life.  If i had said anything about it as a job I would have had to pay!!

So blood was taken and my throat and arse swabbed.  I signed up for the telephone results service and left SAE so I had a paper record (needed by most studios).

Then one producer said that Lydia wasn't good enough and he wanted a certificate from the Working Man Clinic at the Jefferiss Clinic at St Mary’s. And that is where I now go after going through all the same questions again.  

I have been inoculated for all sort of things which will also be good if I go on holiday to the tropics.  I drop my pants and a strange man inspects my cock and my arse.  He still sticks things in my throat and arse and takes blood but, you know what, I don’t mind.  I like the idea a Working Man’s Clinic.  That is what I am and I now have my own place to go.

And the PS? I have had full negative results every time.



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