Prostate Exam Quotes

He looked like a man on his way to a prostate exam.

Three days ago, I was fired from my job teaching at a college because one of my students bet me that you don’t cum when you get a prostate exam and it took me seven minutes to prove that dumb fucking kid wrong. It was hard to touch my own prostate, but ultimately, I was correct. I came onto the floor and onto the person in the desk up front. I said, “Kids, that is what is known as ‘empirical evidence’.

Women. I don’t get them. Don’t they understand how much better we would feel if we were allowed to slaughter our enemies and wear their entrails like jewelry? But no. Ian, you can’t put out a hit on a CIA agent. Ian, don’t slide a knife inside the doctor who gave you a prostate exam. No one ever lets me have any fun.

God, you had enough time to have been through it three times. You've been through my stuff. I bet you over and let one of you stick the world's longest finger up my ass. If a prostate check is an exam, that was a motherfucking safari. I was scared to look down. I thought I'd see that guy's finger nail sticking out of my cock.

Big Tag shook his head. “Women. I don’t get them. Don’t they understand how much better we would feel if we were allowed to slaughter our enemies and wear their entrails like jewelry? But no. Ian, you can’t put out a hit on a CIA agent. Ian, don’t slide a knife inside the doctor who gave you a prostate exam. No one ever lets me have any fun.

If a prostate check is an exam, that was a motherfucking safari. I was scared to look down. I thought I’d see that guy’s fingernail sticking out of my cock.

You've been through my stuff. I bent over and let one of you stick the world's longest finger up my ass. If a prostate check is an exam, that was a motherfucking safari. I was scared to look down. I thought I'd see that guy's fingernail sticking out of my cock.

The rush was incredible, like getting a prostate exam in the middle of a roller-coaster ride at a women’s prison—the kind of thrill you never see coming in a million, trillion years.

Divorce is a prostate exam and a wisdom tooth extraction all done together and by the same person.

I’ve dodged his calls for days, which means I’m a heartbeat away from a gun-barrel prostate exam if I don’t pull my shit together.

But it was my practice never to let a good insult go unslung. “Now I know you. I found a brain tumor on your prostate exam.

the prostate may take different forms, they all use ultrasound high frequency waves and sophisticated computer analysis. It is a simple exam. Harmless sound waves ensure that the test is safe (no x-rays or radiation). It is rapid because of high technology imaging products. It is accurate, employing state-of-the-art computer reconstruction. Generally, the small lubricated probe is placed inside the rectum, although it may be applied

He felt a smile cross his face. He was pretty sure it wasn’t reassuring. He pulled on his latex gloves. “So, do you want to start with the blood work or the prostate exam?” Alexei went a little pale. “I am being sure I do not know what this prostate is. Well, I have suspicion.” Now Caleb grinned widely and held up a tube of lube. “Don’t worry about it, buddy. It’s all a part of the service. You need a prostate check every year.” “But I promise not to use prostate in making the love with Holly. I will keep her far away from prostate.” Alexei backed up, his eyes going to the lube. Nope. He wasn’t getting out of this so easily. “Sorry, buddy. It’s this or a full colonoscopy. Welcome to America. Now please bend over.

During our early years of medical school, my classmates and I were given a course in physical diagnosis. Usually, we practiced on one another. Each of us would percuss a classmate’s chest or listen to his heart with a stethoscope. But some procedures were considered too personal to practice on a classmate. For some of these, we were assigned a “model patient”—someone from the community who was “compensated” in exchange for undergoing an examination. This was how I performed my first rectal exam. A large group of us were led into a room where our model patient was bent over an examining table with his pants around his ankles. One by one, we approached him nervously from behind, inserted a gloved, lubricated finger into his rectum, and felt around for the prostate. “Thank you,” we all said politely to the model patient as we removed our index fingers from his anus. The model patient stared straight ahead, saying nothing. What made the experience oddly disturbing was not just the forced, pseudo normality of the instruction or the fact that the exam could have been done more privately, but the instrumentality of the encounter: a pretend patient bending over naked for anonymous strangers in exchange for money. The fact that the model patient had been paid did not make his work seem any less degrading. (Tipping him would have made it even worse.)

Not married. Mostly because no one has ever asked me,” Leah said lightly. Izzy pulled a disbelieving face. “Are the men in Melbourne blind?” she said. “You’re hot. If all doctors looked like you, my boyfriend would be at the local clinic every second day, begging for a prostate exam or something equally perverted.” “Well, thanks. I think,” Leah said.