Greetings and salutations my friends! Last night I got together with some pals and as the adult beverages flowed, the "sea stories" and the "There I was" stories graduated to "This ain't no shit" stories. Well, this one popped into my head. Hope you enjoy.
Background: Can you remember right after you went into the service sitting around listening to the old guys tell stories about back in the day? Completely enthralled. Eyes wide open. Jaw dropped. This is where this story started. The year was 1976 and one of my very first mentors, Ole Grumpy, who was getting ready to retire, told a story that had everyone rolling on the floor laughing. RIP, my friend. I never forgot that particular story.
We jump ahead 3 years to 1979. I had been accepted to the Coast Guard Academy as a cadet. After living this lifestyle for almost 2 years I had decided it was not for me and had withdrawn. I was still living in the cadet quarters but was waiting for orders to return to my enlisted status and PCS orders.
What really got old very quickly was that I was still considered a cadet and had to follow all their rules. Such as lights out at 2200 and restricted to the dorms overnight. Nope. Ain't happening. I quickly decided I would sneak out of the dorms and go down the hill to the enlisted club. And did so for several weeks. I mean I'm sure that I was probably caught a few times but the upper classmen on watch probably turned a blind eye. After all, what could they do to me?
After a week or so, I had met and become friends with a crowd of HM "A" School students. These were the legendary Hospital Corpsman back in the 70's. They knew what my situation was and never let the cat out of the bag. On to the story.
The Story: One night at the club I got lucky and got friendly with a young serviceman of the female persuasion. As I couldn't invite her to my place, she invited me to her room. And the night commenced as it normally does for teenagers full of hormones.
Skip to the next morning. Everything started normally. Until I went to the head to perform the morning routine of pumping bilges. As I stood at the urinal and let things flow, I got an immediate pain in my pecker. And when I mean pain picture a shitload of razor blades mixed in with the pee and going the length of your equipment. I immediately understood what the old Pecker checkers in boot camp meant when they said, that if you caught a social disease it would hurt so bad you would want to bend pipes. Luckily the pipes were inside the wall. I wanted to scream but couldn't. It hurt!
I went to breakfast and suffered through breakfast with the feeling that I was dribbling in my pants the entire time. And the worst part is, I still felt like I had a full bladder and had to pee. After breakfast I bee lined it to sick call.
Other than the embarrassment of having to explain my situation to some of the same HM's I partied with, who as soon as they got done snickering, immediately jumped to the conclusion I had clap. They ran the standard tests. Nope. No Social disease. Then they ran more tests. Then jokingly asked if I wanted to drink anything. Then more tests. And more tests. And everything came back clean.
About 3 hours later I was sitting in the hallway joking with two of my buddies when a doctor came by to read my chart. He asked a few questions of my 2 buddies to which they answered. Then the doctor asked if anyone had checked my prostate? What's a prostate? 20-year-old me wondered. When my buddies stiffened and turned green, Ole Grumpy immediately came to mind. Oh SHIT! The doctor told them to prep me for a prostate check. They seemed relieved they didn't have to perform this test and happily led me into the exam room.
Now the way the exam room was laid out was that after you entered from the public hallway, the room was long and skinny. It had another door in the back that led to a private hallway the medical folks used to move around the floor. That door was one of those doors that the top half could open while the bottom half could stay closed.
The doctor came in and said drop trou and assume the position. I asked what position? He said just put your forearms on the examination couch and bend over at the waist. So, there 20-year-old me is. Standing in a room with a guy donning blue rubber gloves with my pants around my ankles and bending over. All the old jokes of a hand on my shoulder, and crap like that running through my mind. Talk about embarrassed, apprehensive, and all that. Did I mention how embarrassing this situation was?
About that time one of my "buddies" stuck his head in and told the doc, "Hey Doc, we have a new class of students that have never seen a prostate exam before. Mind if they observe?" Now my embarrassment went off scale! Do I get a vote in this? Apparently not since the doctor said, "You got 2 minutes."
As I watched all my drinking pals line up the half door, I died inside. Then there she was! The gal I had spent the night with staring at my bare butt! My face had to look like it could make a firetruck look pink. Then Grumpy popped into my head. And his story!
Well, when dealt a hand full of lemons, make a tequila sunrise!
The doc came over explaining what was going to happen and what he was doing.
I started to wiggle my ass and asked in a frightened voice, "Ooooh Doc, Is this going to hurt?" "Ooooh I don't want it to hurt..." I snuck a glance over at my buddies." The looks ranged from aghast to smothered giggles.
The doc lubed up his finger as I continued wiggling my ass and saying stuff like, Oooooooh Doc I dont want it to hurt and Make it painfree. Half my buddies were gone. But you could hear their laughs echoing in the hallway.
As the actual exam started I shifted to, "Ohhh OH! OH Doc!" To a low husky "Oooooooooh Doc! That feels soooo gooood!" The doorway is empty and the laughs louder than hell.
About that time the doc leans down and just above a whisper says, "If that felt good you're gonna love this" and I guess poked my prostate. All I could do was do a very orgasmic sounding scream, saw NOTHING but stars and lost my breath!
When I could see and breath again, I noticed 1 or 2 of my buddies back at the door not trying to hold back their laughs. I finished the exam and as the doc pulled off his gloves I said, "Oooooh Doc that felt soooooo good!" He just walked out.
Well, apparently, I had pulled or strained something that had aggravated my prostate. And was told no screwing for 2 weeks.
I never had to buy a beer at the club that week and was invited to every gals room, I think, but had to take rainchecks. Plus, I had to put up with the guys joking about my ass hanging out, etc, etc.
A week later I had to go for follow up. When the doctor came walking down the hallway and called me, I sidled up to him and started with, "Doc Doc are we going to do it again? Please? Purty Please." The doc stopped in his tracks and looked me in the eyes. Held my stare. Then looked at my two buddies (who were trying to stifle a laugh) and said, "Corpsman, get me my special sandpaper gloves!"
Well, nothing happened except that night at the club, one of the guys told me that that doctor is not known for his sense of humor and doesn't put up with any BS. That was the first time he ever saw him crack a joke!
I think I would have made Ole Grumpy proud actually living the story he told that day.
Thanks for reading and see you next time.
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