| Subject: booster shot surprise |
Author:
Nick
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Date Posted: Friday, August 01, 2014, 10:03: pm
Having grown up in the era of penicillin shots, my greatest worry going to the doctor when ill was whether I would get an injection and, if so, where (I always thought that I wouldn't mind the dignity of getting one in the arm rather than the embarrassment of bending over the receptionist's lap for her to watch me get it in the bottom).
When I went for a routine medical in my mid-teens, I was supremely confident of, for the first time, being able to sit down after seeing the doctor because, not being ill, I wouldn't need an injection but I forgot about booster shots.
Even when the doctor said he would bring my vaccinations up-to-date I wasn't unduly worried because I was shirtless from the exam and remembered a previous smallpox vaccination on my arm. Seeing him fetch a syringe worried me a bit about how much a shot in the arm would hurt but then he uttered the dread instruction to pull down my pants and bend over the receptionist's lap. The fact that the girl was only a few years older than I made the ordeal even more humiliating than my previous shots that way but I complied without protest wanting her at least to think me brave. Once across her lap knowing what was about to happen and unable to avoid it, she sensuously stroked my bare bottom and echoed my thoughts with, "You know you have to get these; there's nothing you can do about it now but it will all be over before you know it." Her use of the plural worried me because I never before had more than one shot in a single session but my view of her shapely legs was a pleasant diversion from what I knew was coming and I even indulged the delight of fondling her mini-skirted thighs (which she didn't seem to mind). She tried to console me by saying that she recently had a booster shot, which mede me hopefully look toward her bottom but I made the mistake of asking "where". Her reply that she got it in the arm made me feel even more childish about her seeing me get mine in the bottom. After a long, anxious bare-bottomed wait across her lap, I felt an alcohol swab and sting where I sit, promptly followed by two more in the other cheek. The receptionist had been right about it all being over almost before the pain of the first shot registered but, as usual, I couldn't sit down after going to the doctor.
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