Peeping into the obstetrics and gynecology 6-7

In Chapter Six
, I'd like to insert a short passage for you, dear readers.
About a week later, one evening, I went to a small restaurant to get something to eat. Inside, I saw the doctor and the couple who had undergone polyp removal eating together. I discreetly found a table next to them, sat down, ordered a beer and two side dishes, and began to drink alone, eavesdropping on their conversation.
They were simply chatting about ordinary things; the couple mainly expressed their gratitude to the doctor. The doctor, aside from telling them not to be polite, rambled on about all sorts of things, sounding rather boastful. After a while, the woman, needing to rush to work, left first, inviting the doctor to visit her home sometime.
After the woman left, the two men's conversation gradually took a turn, shifting to the topic of men and women.
I won't go into the details, but will only mention what happened with the woman.
They started by talking about the large, provocative woman they had seen.
The doctor asked his friend, "Hey, you enjoyed watching that pregnant woman the other day, didn't you? Your eyes were so sly. And her husband, he even tried to cover her up. Doesn't he realize that when he's with me, he still doesn't want anyone to see his wife? He should at least make sure she doesn't get too big a belly! Too bad the pregnant woman wasn't pretty, bad luck, sorry to bother you, brother."
"Sigh, I'm not as lucky as you, seeing women's vulvas all the time. I rarely get to see one, but it's like looking at a treasure. It's someone else's wife's vulva, it's always exciting to look at."
"That's true. Other women, even if they're not as pretty as your own wife, are still precious. If you want to see more, come visit me often. On my days off, I'll definitely find a way to open your eyes. But don't go too far, or your wife will complain. By the way, your wife's been doing it for a week now, hasn't it been tough? Has she been free yet?" "No, didn't you tell me she had to be free for two weeks?"
"Don't be like that, I know you're like a lost soul if you don't do 'that' for a day. It's been a week already, you're almost recovered. If you really can't take it anymore, it's okay to do it a little. Just take it easy. Hey, I have to say, your wife is really great. You're a lucky man
, brother." "Great? She's always nagging. But she's quite romantic in bed." "You, you don't know how lucky you are. Not to mention how virtuous your wife is. Just look at her. She's a real beauty inside and out," the doctor said, seemingly flattering his friend, but actually showing off that he'd seen his wife's secrets.
The man was a little embarrassed, but there was nothing he could do. He figured his friend was just having some fun and shouldn't take it too seriously.
He chuckled, "What's so special about her? Your wife is absolutely gorgeous."
"You can't judge a book by its cover," the doctor replied. "It's all about appearances, inside and out. It's about how photogenic she is." The implication was clear: "Have you ever seen my wife naked? Do you know any secrets about her body? I know everything about your wife, even which features are photogenic.
" "What's so photogenic about my wife? Last time I met a fortune teller, he didn't say anything good about her, but he said the mole on her lip was a 'tear mole,' a sign of misfortune."
"That fortune teller only knew one side of the story. A face is all about the overall composition." The doctor stopped there, raising his glass to keep the story a secret.
"Stop with the preamble! Just tell me the rest, or you'll kill me with suspense!" The man refilled the doctor's glass. Knowing his buddies' personalities, the man understood the doctor was being mysterious.
Urged on by the man, the doctor began to speak freely: "Well, let me tell you... I've read some physiognomy books. I noticed that mole on your wife's lip a long time ago. The books say that if it's just one mole, it's a tear mole, which is bad. But if there's a dark mole on the body, it's different... I can't verify it with other people's wives, so I just thought about it... But this time I saw it, and what the physiognomy books say is really true.
I'm just sharing good news with you, don't take it too seriously... I think you two are a couple, so you must have studied your wife's vulva very carefully. What woman in the world doesn't let her husband see her vulva? Others can't see it, but the husband must see it. Originally, I wasn't fortunate enough to see it... You know, I'm a gynecologist, and I have a hobby of studying women's vulvas. Every time I do a gynecological exam, I have to study the vulva of the woman being examined."
To be honest, studying a woman's vulva is quite interesting. To most people, all women's vulvas seem pretty much the same—just pubic hair, labia, clitoris, and vagina. But I think that understanding is far too superficial.
Even just considering pubic hair, there are many differences. Some are long and thick, some growing from slightly below the navel all the way to the anus, with the labia majora covered in a dense thicket from front to back—I call this a "big beard." Others are the opposite, with no hair at all on the entire vulva—that's a "white tiger." Still others have only a small tuft of hair at the front, medically called the mons pubis, with no hair on the labia majora—I call this a "little mustache." Then there's my sister-in-law, with pubic hair on her mons pubis and even more hair growing in the front of her labia majora—I call women like my sister-in-law "eight-character" (a type of pubic hair). Hu, you know, pubic hair is something that looks good.
Too much looks dirty, too little looks unsexy. Those women with "white tigers" (vagina) often have smaller vulvas than average. If their labia are full, it's okay, otherwise it looks like a shriveled eggplant. Your sister-in-law's is the best—clean and textured, making you want to look deeper. As for color, generally speaking, a woman's vulva will become darker after marriage and childbirth. Young women have fair, tender, and rosy vulvas. Only women who haven't had many children don't change their vulva color much. You saw the woman who gave birth the other day; her vulva was frighteningly dark. Your sister-in-law's is only slightly brownish, which is already quite good. The inside of her labia minora is still very tender. Yes... I've also tried inserting my finger into my sister-in-law's vagina. It's just like someone who's never had a child—still very tight, with many layers inside. It must feel really good for you, brother
. My sister-in-law's clitoris doesn't look particularly special at first glance, but I've tried it, and even a little rubbing elicits a strong response. Such a clitoris is top-notch. Brother, you don't know, the clitoris may seem insignificant, but it's truly the soul of the vulva. People call the clitoris the heart, and there's a reason for that. Strictly speaking, the clitoris isn't in the center of the vulva, nor is it as conspicuous as the labia or vagina; it hides shyly in a corner. But if you don't take it seriously, you're making a big mistake. If you compare a woman's vulva to a flower, then the labia are the petals, and the clitoris is the stamen. The petals are just the flower's packaging; the flower... The stamen is the essence of the flower, no wonder you said your sister-in-law is so passionate in bed. A woman like your sister-in-law will respond strongly to even the slightest stimulation of her clitoris. Your sister-in-law's body is very sensitive, and intercourse with her is not difficult. With just a little thrusting, she'll be in heaven
. Brother, am I right? A woman's labia are also very particular. The labia majora should be plump and tender, and elastic to the touch. They should be tight normally, and the vagina should never be exposed. The labia minora have even more variations. Some are too short, hiding inside the labia majora as if they haven't grown at all. Others are too long, protruding half an inch or an inch, with many wrinkles, looking dirty. Your sister-in-law's labia minora are just right, peeking out a little bit from the labia majora, looking very cute.
And women's anuses come in all shapes and sizes; some are as beautiful as chrysanthemums, others as ugly as cows.
Well, women's vulvas are truly diverse, enough to talk about for three days and three nights. Some say that no matter where you look, all chickens are the same, yet you can't find two identical ones anywhere in the world. That's true; if you don't pay attention, they all look similar, but if you study them carefully, you really won't find two alike.
I ask you, why do all the monkeys at the zoo look the same, but no two people are alike? It's because we've seen so many. It's the same with faces; it's the same with genitals. Most people think all women's genitals look the same because most people only see a limited number of genitals in their lifetime. The most pitiful ones don't even get to see one, so of course they can't tell the differences. But I've seen so many that I know no two women's genitals are exactly alike. Each has its own characteristics, its own beauty. People always say the world is beautiful with mountains and rivers, but I say the most beautiful thing in the world is a woman's genital. You understand the meaning of the word '巧' (qiǎo, ingenious), right? Why use '巧' (qiǎo, skillful) and '妙' (miào, wonderful) instead of other words to form this word? '妙' (miào, wonderful) is self-explanatory; it's derived from the word '少女' (shàonǚ, young girl). As for '巧' (qiǎo, skillful), it means 'aperture' or 'hole,' and what kind of hole
is '窍' (qiào, hole)? It's a woman's vulva. Therefore, in the world, only the vulva of a young girl and a woman is truly '巧' (qiǎo, skillful) and holds the most hidden mysteries. Moreover, '巧' (qiǎo, skillful) even precedes '妙' (miào, wonderful). This shows how worthy a woman's vulva is of appreciation, study, and contemplation. Let's get back to my sister-in-law. To be honest, her looks and figure are only above average. Her breasts are nice, and while her vulva isn't perfect, it's certainly above average. Individually, aside from the overlapping of her vaginal openings, nothing else is the best. But together, they complement each other, creating a harmonious and balanced effect, giving a graceful and generous impression. Unlike some women whose vulvas are so disproportionately large and small, making it difficult to distinguish between them, or those where the labia majora and minora are so veiled that only a slit remains, this is quite different. I've seen many women's vulvas, but in my years as a gynecologist, I've rarely encountered a woman with such a sensitive clitoris as my sister-in-law. But
that's not all. What's most interesting is that my
sister-in-law's vulva is photogenic, even auspicious. And now I can confirm it: there's a blue mole on the right labia majora, near her anus. Have you ever thought that if you turn your sister-in-law's vulva sideways, it's like she has a mole on the corner of her mouth, and it overlaps perfectly with the mole on her upper lip? Also, the mole on her mouth is black, and the mole on her vulva is blue. There's a reason for this. In physiognomy books, it's called "Sun and Moon Shining Together." The black mole on her mouth represents the sun, and the blue mole on her vulva represents the moon.
Thinking about it, it makes a lot of sense. The mouth is on the face, always exposed, constantly absorbing masculine energy; the vulva, besides you and me, no other man has ever seen, brimming with feminine softness, the two moles connected, yin and yang in harmony. When she's with a man, the two springs of yin and yang gush forth, like sunshine and rain moistening the man's penis, giving him unparalleled pleasure. Such a woman in bed is gentle, wanton, and charming; her vulva is tight, moist, and tingling. She can accommodate a man's prolonged play and also derive immense pleasure from his play. She can satisfy both herself and the man. In short, having sex with a woman like your sister-in-law is a way to nourish the body. I really envy you, brother, for having such a good wife. The doctor was a smooth talker, spouting a string of incoherent nonsense that left the man completely bewildered. Judging from his expression, the man was experiencing a mix of emotions. Hearing another man openly discuss his wife's private matters, in such a comprehensive and detailed manner, was undoubtedly unpleasant; yet, the man's description of his wife's vulva as so beautiful and alluring couldn't help but make him feel a little smug.
Coupled with the fact that he'd drunk quite a bit and was facing his close confidant, he started rambling incoherently, saying things like, "Just by looking at her, I can tell your wife's vulva must be exceptional," "You're a gynecologist, your standards for a wife's vulva must be very high," and "Since you speak so highly of my wife's vulva, we can share it," and so on.
The doctor, however, remained clear-headed and didn't get angry at his friend's drunken ramblings. Instead, he went along with it, agreeing and subtly guiding the man's words. The language grew increasingly blatant and direct, revealing the doctor's ulterior motives. He was determined to seduce my friend's wife, hoping to find a breakthrough through the husband, who was completely unaware and walking step by step into the doctor's trap.
I thought to myself, if the doctor was genuinely willing to exchange his wife with my friend, that would be fair; but if he was just trying to trick my friend into having her, then my friend was at a huge disadvantage.
I pretended to be drunk, propping my head up with my hand and looking sleepy. They had no idea I was intently eavesdropping on their conversation. After the woman left, I deliberately changed my position, leaning against them, almost touching them. Although they spoke softly, the distance was so close that I could hear every word clearly. Only after they left did I call the waiter to pay the bill. By then, I was convinced that something interesting was about to happen between these two.
===
...

"I was secretly pleased.
As mentioned before, the OB/GYN has doors on one side and windows on the other. One window faces the corridor, and the other faces the door leading to the clinic. From this window, you can see diagonally the gynecological examination table against the corridor wall and the squat toilet in the corner on the other side. A reclining chair is placed on the squat toilet to help women collect urine. (The window facing the corridor can be used to observe the woman lying on the examination table from the front or the woman collecting urine from the back).
This man came to the OB/GYN for a urination checkup without his wife's knowledge, obviously because his wife was menstruating.
I love watching women menstruating, especially watching her undo and redo her menstrual belt—it's so beautiful and so alluring.
The doctor took the form, glanced at it, told them to wait in the clinic, and went into the examination room, slowly setting up the reclining chair.
'Come in.'" The doctor called out.
The husband carried his wife back into the examination room and stood there waiting for further instructions. Clearly, this was their first time encountering such a situation and they didn't know what to do.
"Take off your wife's pants and get her to lie down on the recliner," the doctor ordered the man.
"How can we take off her pants with you here? Why do we have to lie on a recliner just to get a urine sample? Why won't you give me a cup to collect her urine?" The husband looked confused, while his wife remained clung to his back, obviously waiting for the doctor to leave.
"Don't just stand there, I'm waiting," the doctor urged them.Urged by the doctor, the husband reluctantly put his wife down. Now he could see the woman clearly; she looked to be around thirty-five or thirty-six, her face sallow from the pain of her illness. She wore a white embroidered shirt, beige trousers, stockings, and leather sandals. She was probably in severe pain; while on her husband's back, she had pressed one hand against his back, and as she was put down, the other hand followed. Her whole body was hunched over, and she was about to collapse to the ground. Her husband struggled to hold her up, finally managing to steady her. He glanced back at the doctor, seeing he showed no sign of backing down, and had no choice but to bend down, half-squatting, his head and shoulders supporting his wife's body. He used his free hands to undo her belt, unzip her pants, and pull them down to her ankles. Looking back at the doctor again, knowing there was no turning back, he obediently pulled down his wife's underwear.

It was a pure white pair of briefs, with some bloodstains on the crotch. The briefs were pulled down, revealing a menstrual belt underneath. The belt was also white, about two inches wide, tied around the waist with a thin strap. The crotch area, rubbed raw by the thighs, had become a thin strip, also stained with blood. Because the belt was thinner, many pubic hairs peeked out from both sides. The husband stopped what he was doing and used both hands to hold his wife's hips, seemingly waiting for her to free her hands to untie the belt herself. The wife, preoccupied with her pain, didn't notice her husband's actions.
After waiting a while and receiving no response, the husband reluctantly began to untie the belt.
It seemed he had never done this before; he fiddled with it for a long time without success. First, he reached under his wife's shirt and tried to untie it, but after a while, he couldn't get it right. Then he unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the menstrual belt's loops. Normally, you only need to untie the thin strap around the waist to remove the entire belt, but the husband, unaware of the intricacies, didn't do it that way. He first unbuttoned the loops, opened the flaps, and then pulled it out from behind the thin straps. This removed the wide band covering the vulva, but the thin strap around the waist remained tied. When he let go, the menstrual belt hung like a tail behind his wife's buttocks, exposing her vulva. This would make it very inconvenient for the doctor's work later. Of course, the husband didn't know how far he needed to go.
"Untie it, untie it! Untie the whole menstrual belt. Untie the knot on the thin strap, and you can take the whole menstrual belt off," the doctor instructed from the side.
Under the doctor's guidance, the husband finally managed to remove his wife's menstrual belt.
"Lie down on the recliner and take off all your pants," the doctor instructed further.
The husband crumpled the menstrual belt into a ball in his palm, bent over, and with one hand supporting his wife's head and neck and the other her ankles, laboriously laid her down on the recliner. He took off her sandals, then peeled off her underwear and trousers together, wrapping the menstrual belt in the underwear and stuffing it into the trouser pocket, draping the trousers over his arm.
Although the wife was in a lot of pain, she was still relatively lucid. Seeing her husband putting the blood-stained menstrual belt into his panties, she laboriously instructed him to pull the blood-stained sanitary napkins out of the belt and throw them away.
Perhaps feeling it was inappropriate for the doctor to touch her vulva in front of her husband, she waved for him to wait in the outpatient room. The husband glanced at his wife, then at the doctor, and tactfully left. A moment later, perhaps feeling it wasn't discreet enough, he returned and closed the door to the aisle, continuing to wait in the examination room.
Only the woman preparing to collect her urine and the male gynecologist assisting her remained in the room.
The woman lay on the recliner, eyes closed, helplessly awaiting what was to come.
Just as I had witnessed during the day, the doctor spread the woman's legs, placed them on the footrests, turned on the spotlight, adjusted the angle to illuminate the woman's vulva, and then sat between her legs to begin the cleaning process methodically. Because I was looking at an angle, about 45 degrees, my line of sight passed precisely between the doctor and the woman's legs, allowing me to see the woman's vulva clearly, completely unaffected by the doctor's posture.
The woman's vulva was completely covered in blood, from her mons pubis all the way to her buttocks, blood everywhere. Her inner thighs were also covered in blood, and her pubic hair hung limply, sticky with blood. Gushes of blood continued to seep from her slightly open vulva, indicating that she was at the peak of her menstrual period and experiencing heavy bleeding.
The doctor glanced back at the aisle door to make sure it was closed, then bent down to begin cleaning the woman.
At first glance, the male doctor's work seemed no different from the female doctor's work I had seen during the day, but closer observation revealed many subtle differences.
The male doctor merely used forceps to roughly wipe the woman's vulva with a cotton ball, then put down the forceps and used his hand to wipe the vulva with the cotton ball. While wiping with one hand, his other hand would occasionally part the vulva, pinch or pull back the clitoral hood. Normally, this would be coordinating with the other hand's work, but his actions and gestures clearly showed he had ulterior motives. Most importantly, a male doctor touching a female patient's sensitive areas without gloves was clearly a sexual assault.
I know that gynecologists should avoid unnecessary physical contact when examining female patients. However, this male doctor, without a third party present, touched a female patient's private parts without gloves and wantonly touched and stimulated her sensitive areas—this clearly constitutes sexual assault.
Of course, as a bystander, I would never step forward to defend the woman; his actions only made me more entertained. The woman's decision to send her husband away out of shyness now seems like a mistake.
If her husband had been watching the doctor do all this, he would never have dared to overstep his bounds. No wonder he checked that the door was closed before doing anything; she was afraid her husband would see and accuse him of indecent assault. As for the female patient lying on the recliner, she was only thinking about how to alleviate her pain and couldn't care less about anything else. Besides, she was lying on her back with her eyes tightly closed out of shyness, so she had no idea what the doctor was doing to her vulva, let alone whether what the doctor was doing was necessary or reasonable.
The male doctor's wiping of the vulva was not as methodical as the female doctor's during the day. He would just wipe the areas outside the vulva a few times and call it a day, but he wiped the vulva much more carefully than the female doctor.
With one hand, he spread the vulva apart or pinched the labia, while with the other hand, he repeatedly wiped the vulva with a cotton ball. When pinching the labia minora, he pulled them outwards until they were completely smooth, like an extremely thin sheet of flesh. While pulling, he used the fingers of his other hand to apply saliva to the smooth, tender pink labia and stroke them back and forth. He did the same to the clitoris, using one hand to pull back the clitoral hood in a V-shape, while the other hand, with fingers moistened with saliva, continuously kneaded the clitoral glans.
The doctor put on the reflector he had used when operating on his friend's wife earlier, illuminating the woman's vulva brightly, and while playing with the woman's sensitive areas, he observed the vulva's response and changes. The doctor explored every nook and cranny of the woman's vulva, inserting a finger from each hand into her vagina and pulling it apart forcefully, distorting her vulva to the extreme, widening it like a mouth, exposing the entire vulva, even the red mucous membrane inside the vagina, not to mention the clitoris and urethra.
I saw that after the doctor withdrew his hands from the woman's vagina, his fingers were covered in the woman's menstrual blood.
The doctor had barely sat between the woman's legs, and before he even began to play with her, he had already pulled out his penis. Because he was sitting, his position was low, and the woman was lying on her back, she couldn't see the doctor's crotch at all. Of course, since the doctor was basically facing away from me, I couldn't see it either, only sensed it from the way he pulled his pants and reached into
his crotch. After pulling his bloodied fingers out of the woman's vagina, the doctor didn't immediately wipe away the blood. Instead, he smeared the woman's menstrual blood on his fingers onto his penis, then inserted his fingers back into the vagina to collect more blood, repeating this several times before stopping.
The doctor played with her for a while, and seeing that the woman didn't react, he grew bolder.
He stood up and, without making a sound, unbuttoned the remaining buttons on her blouse, pulling her bra up forcefully. The bra was elastic, and even without unfastening the back straps, it still pulled upwards, causing her breasts to pop out.
The doctor gently stroked her breasts; his technique was practiced, and in a short time, her previously flat nipples became erect. The doctor continued to stroke her breasts, then thrust his hips forward, finally unable to resist, and inserted his penis into her bleeding vagina.
While the doctor played with her vagina and breasts, the woman didn't open her eyes, and her face remained expressionless. Her hands remained pressed against her abdomen, but with the doctor's caresses, her complexion gradually changed from sallow to flushed, as if her pain had lessened somewhat. When the doctor finally inserted his penis into her vagina, I finally saw a response on her face.
She furrowed her brow slightly, let out a soft "oh," then released her abdomen and pushed the doctor away with both hands. Clearly, she was aware of the doctor's actions, but her lack of response likely stemmed from a lack of understanding of what a doctor should do in her situation, assuming everything he did in her private area was normal and for her treatment. A woman suffering such intense pain only longs for an end to her suffering; nothing else matters. Consider this
: when a woman is before a gynecologist, what can he do if she doesn't want him to touch her vulva, even if he's a man? It's unavoidable. The doctor's manipulation of her vulva would provide some stimulation, generating excitement that, in turn, helps alleviate her pain. Only when she felt the doctor's penis inserted did she realize something was wrong, attempting to push him away, hoping his penis would withdraw. At
this moment, the woman's emotions were conflicted; on one hand, she knew she had to resolutely resist the doctor's violation and protect her sacred territory.
On the other hand, she was terrified that her husband outside the door would find out what was happening inside, and she knew very well what would happen if he found out.
First, the doctor would be brought to justice.
Second, her husband would leave her. Even the most magnanimous man would never tolerate another man penetrating his wife's vagina, whether it was adultery or rape. If this matter escalated, she would never be able to face her husband again.
I think she must have regretted letting her husband leave earlier. If her husband had been watching, would the gynecologist have dared to be so brazen?
Faced with the doctor's indecent assault, the woman didn't shout, but her refusal was firm. The doctor resisted the woman's resistance, thrusting his penis in and out of her vagina about ten times before finally forcing her to push him away. The woman pushed the doctor away without saying a word, her face expressionless, not even opening her eyes, her legs still spread and resting on the footstool.
Clearly, the woman had endured the doctor's violation while in a dilemma, but this time, she didn't put her hands back on her abdomen, but rather on her thighs, obviously ready to block the doctor's further violation at any moment.
Interestingly, from the initial caresses of the doctor to the actual sexual assault and her helpless resistance, the woman never opened her eyes, not even for a moment. When the doctor's penis entered her vagina, her hands resisted, but her eyes closed even tighter.
Watching the dramatic scene unfold from outside the window, I mentally reenacted the woman's thoughts.
She had come to the hospital for treatment, and as required, she was required to expose her vulva for a man's examination. Even though the man was more about caressing than examining her, she didn't see it and could still interpret it as a normal examination process.
By closing her eyes to avoid the living, breathing man before her, she was escaping reality. By not seeing the actual situation, her imagination ran wild. She could imagine the doctor bustling between her legs as a woman like herself, or as her husband's affectionate caresses during sex, thus eliminating any sense of shame or guilt.
When she felt a man's penis being inserted into her vagina, she became even more reluctant to open her eyes. Only in this way could she wishfully imagine that what was inserted into her vagina was not a man's penis, but a necessary examination tool that just happened to resemble a man's penis.
As for resistance, it was her body's response to discomfort.
These thoughts were somewhat self-deceptive, unaware that it was precisely this posture that fueled the doctor's lewd thoughts. However, let's think about it: as a woman, especially a female patient, what could she do in that situation? Could she just stare and watch a strange man brazenly watch and play with her genitals? Out of sight, out of mind! The doctor seemed
somewhat unsatisfied, but faced with the woman's defensiveness, he was helpless. He could only shake his head regretfully, get up from between the woman's legs, and turn around to find some toilet paper to wipe his penis. When the doctor turned back, I saw that his penis was erect and thick, pointing high, showing no signs of ejaculation. There was a lot of menstrual blood on his penis, and a patch of it also stained his white coat. It seems the woman stopped the doctor before he ejaculated.
After playing around for a while, the doctor, probably having had his fill, pulled the woman's bra back into place, sat down again, and cleaned her vulva once more.
He wasn't as thorough as the female doctor, but he still used a cotton ball to pack her vagina. This time, the woman seemed more wary. She hesitated when the doctor touched her sensitive areas, especially when he inserted the cotton ball into her vagina and pushed it deeper with his fingers. She gripped his hands tightly, preventing him from going any further. The doctor paused, then thrust his fingers deeper into her vagina, and the woman pushed his hand away forcefully.
He then inserted another cotton ball, but she remained wary. After repeating this three or four times, the doctor stopped.
He had been very enthusiastic when playing with her vulva earlier, but now he seemed to have lost interest. After cleaning up, he found a disposable plastic cup and handed it to the woman, asking her to spread her labia to urinate. The woman was in considerable pain, and because she was lying down, her limbs were clumsy, making it difficult for her to do it properly.
Seeing that the woman couldn't urinate on her own, the doctor loudly called for her husband to come in and help.
Hearing the doctor's call, the man at the door quickly pushed open the door and entered the examination room. Seeing his wife lying there naked, her vulva displayed like an exhibit under the lights, he swallowed twice, undoubtedly feeling terrible. But it was perfectly normal for a gynecologist to examine a woman's vulva, and the husband could only endure it.
It was as if the assault on his wife had never happened; the doctor showed no remorse whatsoever. The wife, of course, didn't want her husband to find out either. And rightly so, what was the point of pursuing it now that it had already happened? It was better to let it pass quietly.
The woman didn't respond, which reassured the doctor. Otherwise, if things escalated, although it would be difficult to obtain evidence, it would at least require considerable effort to explain. He clearly had experience in this area and knew there was no danger, hence his composure. The gynecologist, now appearing completely respectable, solemnly observed the husband helping his wife collect her urine.
Initially, the woman resisted, but realizing she couldn't manage it herself, she agreed, thinking her husband's help was better than the doctor touching her.
The husband, though somewhat embarrassed, couldn't worry about that for his wife's sake. Following the doctor's instructions, he bent down beside his wife, parted her labia with his left hand, and with his right hand, slipped a cup under her raised legs, placing it under her vulva, collecting her urine under the gaze of another man.
It's strange; normally, personally opening one's wife's vulva to be watched by another man should fill one with anger, but it's precisely in this anger that men often experience involuntary physiological responses.
The husband was collecting urine on his wife's right side; I could see his face. I noticed that as he collected her urine, his groin gradually bulged, and I could even see his penis occasionally twitching inside his pants.
Helping his wife urinate wasn't strenuous, but seeing his flushed face and profuse sweating, as if he were doing heavy labor, and his frequent furtive glances at the gynecologist who was staring intently at his wife's vulva
, it was clear that the husband felt uncomfortable exposing his wife's vulva to another man. And for the woman, having another man view her vulva—a space meant only for her husband—in front of her husband, was even more unbearable, especially since this man had just violated her body, making her feel utterly humiliated.
Men are strange, and women are equally strange. The main thing is that men who have been intimate with a woman always evoke strange feelings in her, no matter what. Even if she doesn't love them, she'll still think about them for a long time. The man in front of her had just inserted his penis into her vagina, and now he and her husband were looking at her most private place. How could she be indifferent?
I'm not exaggerating; women do indeed have a complex, inexplicable, and tangled feeling towards men who have possessed them. Otherwise, how could there be the bizarre story of someone willing to bear a child for the man who raped her?
Women are like that; once you've possessed her, she can't forget you, even if it was rape. So, without the constraints of law and morality, rape could be considered a not-so-bad way to win a woman's favor. But that's a digression, so let's leave it at that.
To relieve her pain as quickly as possible, the woman disregarded her shame and, under the gaze of the two men, tried her best to urinate. She knew very well that only by urinating could she get a diagnosis through testing, receive appropriate treatment, and relieve her suffering.
To escape her pain as quickly as possible, the woman, with her husband's help, struggled relentlessly, sometimes holding her breath, sometimes straining, but all to no avail. She tried everything, but couldn't urinate a single drop.
The doctor came to help, muttering, "No rush. Take your time. I'll help." He went to the husband's side and explained, "The patient's psychological burden due to external environmental interference affects her physiological function, causing her to be unable to urinate immediately. This is normal; we need to use appropriate stimulation to induce her physiological function. Come, let's help you." He bent down and, while helping, said to her husband, "She won't be able to urinate for a while. Put the cup down. Release your left hand. Use your right hand to separate her labia from below. Yes, like that."
The husband, like a puppet, mechanically followed the doctor's instructions, fulfilling the doctor's request by spreading his wife's vulva from below her thighs.
The doctor then began working on the woman's thighs. He stroked the woman's lower abdomen and mons pubis with his right hand, while his left hand massaged her clitoris. He began by using his index and middle fingers to gently comb around the clitoris, following the clitoral hood from top to bottom, while his right hand gently combed her pubic hair . Then he pressed his fingers directly onto the clitoris, gently kneading and massaging, while his right hand pressed lightly on her lower abdomen.
I imagined the doctor must be incredibly proud and satisfied at that moment, being able to play with his wife's most private and sensitive organ in front of a man, and even having to personally pry open her vulva, offering up what should be his private possession like a sacrifice. This kind of stimulation can only be truly understood through personal experience. I truly envy men who are gynecologists.
At the same time, I also thought about how, as a husband, he must have been forced to spread his wife's vulva open, watching a strange man wantonly observe and play with his wife's private parts, and having to appear willing. His heart must have felt utterly bitter. The woman
lay there naked, letting a man touch her genitals in front of her husband, trying her best to hide the physiological reactions caused by the stimulation of her sensitive areas. It was a wonder she could endure such shame and discomfort.
After a while, the woman began to moan. The doctor told her husband to get ready. The husband, still holding his wife's vulva open with his right hand, reached for the cup he had just put down with his left. In a flash, a stream of urine gushed from the woman's vulva. The husband quickly moved the cup closer, managing to catch the rest of the urine. His hands were soaked with his wife's urine, and his shirt cuffs were also wet and sticky.
"Alright, alright, finally got it." The doctor reluctantly removed his hands from the woman's sensitive area, found a towel to dry his hands, which were also wet with urine, and tossed the towel to his husband. The husband took the towel and first cleaned his wife's vulva and buttocks before wiping his own hands.
After obtaining the urine sample, the doctor needed to remove the cotton ball inserted into the woman's vagina. He asked the patient's husband to move aside, and then he moved between the woman's legs to handle the situation. First, he carefully cleaned the woman's vulva inside and out with the cotton ball before officially starting to remove it.
The doctor was determined to put on a convincing performance in front of the husband. While removing the cotton ball, he used his left hand to spread the labia, and with his right hand, he used forceps to probe the woman's vagina for a while, then frowned as if encountering difficulties. He paused, discarded the forceps, and inserted his index and middle fingers into the woman's vagina in a forceps-like shape, seemingly intending to use his hands instead of forceps to remove the cotton ball.
Removing the cotton ball with his fingers appeared to be difficult; the doctor's fingers moved in and out of the woman's vagina, as if searching for and grasping the cotton ball, but more like the thrusting of a penis inside the vagina.
Finally, his fingers were withdrawn, tightly gripping a wad of cotton soaked in menstrual blood.
He threw away the cotton, then reached in again, fiddling around for a while
before pulling out another clump. Removing the remaining cotton balls seemed even more difficult; no matter how the doctor's fingers prodded inside the woman's vagina, he couldn't get them out. Because the doctor had inserted his fingers very deeply, pressing his palm hard against the vulva, squeezing it out of shape, it still didn't work. The doctor then took a bundle from the cabinet, opened it, and took out a speculum.
He inserted the speculum into the woman's vagina, squeezed the handle tightly, turned the locking nut all the way down, and stretched the speculum to its maximum, creating a large, round hole in the woman's vagina.
I saw that when the doctor took the speculum from the bundle, he chose the largest one from several speculums, inserted it into the woman's vagina, and then immediately adjusted the speculum to its maximum, showing the extent to which the woman's vagina was stretched.
The woman's vagina was stretched so wide, and the stretching process was so sudden and gradual, that she couldn't bear it anymore, letting out suppressed moans, though they still sounded somewhat pitiful. The husband had no other way to help his wife, so he could only hold her shoulders tightly and gently stroke her body to ease her pain.
"I know it's uncomfortable, please bear with it. I'll do it as soon as possible, it'll be over in a bit," the doctor said kindly, but his hands dawdled. He slowly put on the headband-style reflector, adjusted the light, and carefully searched inside the stretched vagina.
"Ah, found it, hiding in the posterior fornix... Your posterior fornix is very deep and well-formed, so semen won't easily leak out during intercourse." Even at this point, the doctor didn't forget to take advantage of the couple. He found the cotton ball hidden deep inside the vagina and managed to remove it, this time not with his hands, but with forceps. After removing the cotton ball
, the doctor slightly loosened the screws on the speculum, making the woman's vaginal opening a little smaller.
The doctor gripped the speculum and pulled it out sharply. The woman's vulva, now unsupported, closed abruptly with a soft, crisp "pop."
"All done," the doctor said, removing the speculum from the woman's vulva and going off to organize his instruments.
The husband had much to do; he needed to stay with his wife for her treatment. He needed to get her dressed before going to the lab. He gently lifted her legs, which had been propped up on the footstool, one by one, and helped her sit up from the recliner. He took her underwear from her pocket, then pulled out a menstrual pad. Unable to find toilet paper, he looked around.
"There's some in the basket," the doctor reminded him.
The husband found toilet paper in the bamboo basket on the table and clumsily stuffed it into the menstrual pad.
After this, the woman's pain seemed to lessen a bit. After her husband helped her up, she opened her eyes and, seeing her husband's clumsy movements, began to offer guidance.
Under his wife's guidance, the husband carefully folded a stack of toilet paper into a strip, pressed it firmly, and gently stuffed it into the menstrual belt loop, smoothing it out. He picked it up by both ends to check it; it seemed fine. He placed the belt on the table beside him, picked up his underwear, and knelt down to lift one of his wife's legs to put it on.
"Wait a minute," his wife said softly. She raised her arms and hugged her husband's neck: "Help me up."
Women know better than men how to dress appropriately. Normally, the first step for a woman when dressing is to put on underwear to cover her genitals.
This is especially true when others, particularly men, are present. But the woman in front of him was different; covering her genitals was no longer important to her.
There were two men present. One was her husband, with whom she was used to each other and had no secrets. The other was a gynecologist. Although he couldn't compare to her husband, he had recently explored her most private area, her vulva, in great depth and had completely mastered its secrets. There were no secrets left for her; he understood her even more thoroughly and had explored her more comprehensively than her husband.
Although she hadn't seen it with her eyes closed, and therefore didn't need to admit that his penis had penetrated her vulva, the fact remained that he had seen it, touched it, and inserted his fingers inside.
In front of such a man, was there any need for concealment or shyness? The important thing was to cooperate with her husband, get dressed smoothly, and quickly go to the lab for a urine test.
With her husband's support, the woman stood up, slightly parting her legs, lifting the hem of her shirt, and pressing her hands against her still-painful abdomen. She stood naked, her vulva exposed. From my perspective, her vulva was no longer visible; the tuft of curly, dark pubic hair on her mons pubis accentuated her hazy beauty.
When she first entered the examination room, her husband had helped her remove her menstrual belt. Now, seeing his wife's expression, he understood that she still needed his help to put it back on.
Because of the earlier removal of the belt, coupled with the doctor's staged performance, he was no longer as sensitive to his wife's privacy. To the doctor before him, his wife's vulva was no longer a mystery. There was no need for pretense anymore; the most important thing now was to quickly cure his wife's pain.
Without further hesitation, the husband openly and honestly put the menstrual belt back on for his wife. He was generous, but being a novice, his movements were clumsy, and he almost dropped the menstrual belt. Luckily, his wife caught it in time.
The husband, in a flurry of activity, finally managed to wrap the thin strap of the menstrual belt around his wife's waist, tie a knot, reach under her crotch, pinch the tail-like strip hanging behind her buttocks, pull it to her navel, tuck one end of the strip behind the thin strap, and then rummage around to fasten the button. The menstrual belt was finally tied, albeit loosely.
The wife, dissatisfied with her husband's tying, untied the thin strap, tightened it, and re-knotted it. She then hooked the strap around her waist with both hands, pulled it up slightly, and used one hand to press down on the menstrual belt, tidying up the sanitary napkin covering her vulva. She then combed and tucked the pubic hair protruding from the sides of the menstrual belt as much as possible.
Now, the woman had neatly tied her menstrual belt. I love watching women tie menstrual belts; they look beautiful. Of course, it would be even more beautiful if the husband tied the belt for his wife like that. The most beautiful sight would be to see a man who isn't her husband tying a menstrual belt for a woman who isn't her wife. However, the good
time didn't last long. After tidying up the belt, the woman sat back down on the recliner. Her husband took a pair of panties from the table. The woman raised her legs, feet off the ground, and her husband knelt down, pulling the panties up to her ankles. The woman lowered her legs and stood up. I took one last look at the woman with the belt. Her husband then pulled the panties down to her waist, completely concealing her vulva.
The woman straightened the panties her husband had helped her put on, pressed down on her crotch, and sat down again. Her husband then helped her put on her trousers, buttoning up her shirt as he did so.
The man tidied his wife's clothes, squatted down so she could lean on him and he could carry her. The woman said her stomach pain was better and she could walk on her own without being carried. The man stood up and put his arm around his wife's shoulder, holding her waist and hips with one hand, and picked up the urine sample cup with the other. He slowly made his way out the door. At the door, the woman stopped, looked back at the doctor, her face expressionless. After a moment, she softly said, "Thank you, doctor." She glanced at him again, then slowly turned and left, supported by her husband.
I stood outside the window, stunned for a long time, unable to understand what the woman's strange behavior at the last minute meant.
Another good show was over. Reluctantly, I returned to my cozy corner of the garage, closed my eyes, lay down, and quietly savored the exciting scene I had just witnessed: vulva, fingers, speculum, menstrual belt—all of it replaying before my eyes.

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Peeping into the obstetrics and gynecology 6-7

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