although fatherhood beckons from around the bend, four time zones away, i needed to gain some insight as to whether i could sire offspring. it had come to my attention through a routine check-up that production in the sack factory might be affected.
i was required to abstain from ejaculation for a period of two to five days prior to my appointment. this regulation kept me treading on eggshells: any excessive stimulation would have to be averted early on, or i'd risk staining my immaculate record. an overzealous encounter might promote a volcanic eruption, necessitating a clinic rescheduling. the diligent house of cards construction would be obliterated.
cocked and loaded, i descended upon the hospital, empty plastic vial in tow, hidden in my pocket. the andrology laboratory reception room held a couple of men, noses in magazines. appealing to our gender, only sports illustrated issues were available, hardly material that would encourage arousal.
after an awkward couple of minutes, a red-faced gentleman (flush from climax and embarrassment) emerged from a room, clutching his captured seed. he delicately placed the container in the appointed spot, and briskly exited. unless i were to pass by a brothel or bathhouse, it's not often to be keenly aware of a man who had recently expended. his actions weren't secret, and seeing as i was next, neither would be mine.
i lamented hearing my name, wishing to remain anonymous. the nurse discreetly slipped me two vials, which worried me - surely i couldn't produce a sufficient sample, even with a half-week of abstinence! she notified me that the receptacles were for urine, which worried me - i hadn't harboured that liquid! once in the washroom, cradling cup to tip, i plead with my bladder to spontaneously provide. i took a sip of tap water, as if that would immediately encourage waste. finally, lo and behold, a trickle, barely reaching the minimum required. triumphantly, i sealed the samples and strode back to my seat.
five minutes later, i was called upon for the main course. when i had booked this appointment in person weeks before, the receptionist had provided a vial with which to return. now the nurse offered a fresh one, and when i suggested i use the one i brought, she said, 'just keep it for future use'. you know, for a rainy day, when i randomly need a seed collection.
i was ushered to a room at the end of the hall, a discreet distance from patients with acute hearing. surely the nurse would be privy to heavy breathing or chicken choking, but i intended to be quick and quiet. while the rest of the hospital retained a sterile decor, i was curious if the disseminating setting would appear more inviting. however, other than a stack of outdated porno mags, the room was merely another stale examination station.
the masturbating material raised more questions than organs. which hospital employee has the task of selecting and purchasing these issues? was there a wide variety of kinks represented, in case a specific patient could only produce when presented with a unique fetish? were the pages routinely cleaned? not since my group of friends and i raided the caretaker's office in grade school had i seen a pile of '80s penthouse copies in a staid environment.
i opted for my imagination for inspiration, and fortunately hit the mark with olympic timing and precision. with my deposit immediately off to the testing for the time sensitive process, i wandered off into the morning rush, searching for a post-coital breakfast place.
0 comments:
Post a Comment