Memories of a Physio Student - 01

Memories of a Physio Student #2

- A story that is at least partly autobiographical -

Prologue:

With my mood at my absolute lowest, I pushed down the lever on the mixer tap, abruptly stopping the shower. As expected, I still felt no better than the day before. Luckily, at least the mirror was completely opaque from the steam. The last thing I could have borne at that moment was the sight of my own face, distorted by shame. I really didn't need to subject myself to such a pathetic sight before breakfast!

I still felt sick thinking about yesterday's incident. I wanted to sink into the ground with shame and disappear from this planet forever. How would I ever manage to face my classmates at physiotherapy school again? I'm sure they'd secretly whisper and smirk about me when they sat with me in anatomy class later. It was unthinkable if one of them had secretly taken pictures with their smartphone. On the other hand, that was unlikely, as that would be a blatant violation of school rules and would result in immediate expulsion from the school. I don't usually believe in strict rules, but in this case they came in very handy.

Thinking about anatomy class made my stomach literally churn. Since yesterday, I'd been unable to think about anything other than my embarrassing mishap, so I'd completely forgotten to study the material that the strict Dr. Morgana would be testing at the beginning of today's double lesson.

Normally, learning came easily to me. I was actually really good at anatomy, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have to worry about any gaps in my knowledge. But since yesterday, a state of emergency had prevailed. Anything but normal. Absolute emptiness in my mind!

It was common knowledge that Dr. Morgana showed no mercy if someone couldn't answer her questions 100% correctly. After all, anatomy was the most important subject and practically the foundation for almost all other subjects. In the very first lesson, the head physician of the orthopedic clinic made it unmistakably clear to us that at the end of our training, she would only give us two possible grades in the final examination: either an A or a F. Either we had a perfect command of anatomy, or our insufficient knowledge posed a danger to patients who trusted in our abilities and we had therefore chosen the wrong profession!

Of all things, it was the carpal bones of the wrist that were on the agenda today, before the class moved on to the individual muscle layers of the fingers and hand. Luckily, I had at least memorized the mnemonic that helped memorize and derive the Latin names of the individual carpal bones. I repeated them to myself over and over again:

Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle"

That's the theory. If I could get this mnemonic translated into Latin at the right moment, I could at least reproduce some of the material if it were actually my turn to take the test today. I thought hard and reconstructed the names of the individual small bones from the mnemonic.

"Some - scaphoid bone,

Lovers - lunate bone,

Try - triquetrum bone,

Positions - pisiform bone,

That - trapezium bone,

They - trapezoid bone,

Can't - capitate bone,

Handle - hamate bone"

Again and again I whispered the names of the eight carpal bones to myself until I finally felt I had mastered them.

I let the pent-up air escape from my lungs with relief, now that I could at least hope that I wouldn't completely black out if Dr. Morgana actually chose me. A mnemonic like that has its uses. Nevertheless, I knew that it wouldn't be enough to simply list the carpal bones. It would be at least as important to know exactly which bones joined to which other bones, and which of the individual joint surfaces were concave and which convex. Only in this way could one understand the complex biomechanics of the carpal bones. I was definitely going to screw up miserably here, that much was clear! It was equally clear that later my classmates would heap ridicule and scorn on me if Dr. Morgana chose me and took me apart in front of the entire class. As if yesterday's situation hadn't been embarrassing enough for me!

When I entered the lecture hall a good hour later, almost everyone else was already there, chatting animatedly. As soon as the door closed behind me, all conversation suddenly died down, and about twenty pairs of eyes turned on me like anti-aircraft searchlights targeting an enemy aircraft in the sky. I already had a feeling that today was definitely not going to be my day...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Flashback - Twenty-four hours erlier:

My God, I was so excited. In a few minutes, I would have my first practical massage lesson. Massage was just one of about three dozen different subjects on the curriculum for the three-year full-time course at the physiotherapy school. In any case, it was the subject we all expected to offer some variety and relaxation. A week earlier, we had already had a theoretical introductory lesson on the theoretical principles of massage, in which Ms. Hinrichs, the specialist teacher for massage, connective tissue massage, and balneology, first impressed upon me and my twenty-three classmates the most basic principles to be observed in this form of therapy.

In my mind, I recapitulated everything I had memorized. Ms. Hinrichs had placed particular emphasis on a working posture that was gentle on the back and joints. If, for example, she caught someone bending over a patient with their legs closed and a rounded back during the final exam, she would fail the exam. She would also give us hell if we forgot to position the patient comfortably on the massage table. This included padded rollers under the insteps of the feet or backs of the knees, pillows under the stomach or head if necessary, and adjusting all adjustable parts of the massage table to give the patient an optimal and comfortable lying position. Apart from wedding rings, which none of us wore yet, Ms. Hinrichs tolerated neither jewelry on the wrists nor on the fingers. Long or even dirty fingernails were absolutely unacceptable. Even if someone smelled of old sweat, she would mercilessly send us home, and record the missed class as absence.

After a quick look at my fingernails, I was ready to start the lesson, as I'd already showered. I even shaved my armpits, because who knows which body part we'd start with today. My classmates also smelled noticeably freshly showered that morning. Apparently, none of them wanted to upset Ms. Hinrichs right at the start of the semester.

First, Ms. Hinrichs welcomed the class, or rather the first semester, as we were officially called at the physiotherapy school, and gave a brief overview of the planned schedule for the lesson. Today, one half would be the "victim," while the other half would massage. Next week, they would switch. Most of the subject instructors of the other practical training subjects also liked to refer to those who took on the role of the patient as victims. Considering that we hadn't yet fully mastered our skills, I guess this term was certainly appropriate.

"And just to make this clear for today and the next three years," Ms. Hinrichs said, raising her voice to make herself heard, "you're in medical training here, and I don't want to see any false shame or prudishness in my massage class. So you'll have to get used to the fact that one half of you will be naked as long as we do exercises. Of course, your intimate areas can be covered with a towel during the massage if you're embarrassed to lie naked on the massage table. However, to avoid a fashion show of various thongs or lace panties every Monday, these will be removed during the massage whenever we work on the lower body. Do we understand each other here, or does anyone of you have a problem with nudity?"

A murmur went through the rows, and I couldn't help noticing that some of my classmates were whispering to each other and glancing more or less discreetly at me. After all, I was the only man in this class, so perhaps they were afraid that my presence might lead to some awkward moments. Of course, the idea that they might even be curious to see what I would look like naked didn't occur to me at that moment. In any case, there was obviously no one who would have a problem undressing in front of the others.

"And there is something else we should clarify right at the beginning" Ms. Hinrichs continued, "I would like to ask you to tell me before class begins if you have your period. At least if we're working on the lower limbs and pelvic region. In this case, you are exempt from the victim role and will take on the role of therapist. This also applies to the later classes in connective tissue massage and balneology. So, if you can already foresee today that you'll probably have your period next week, you should of course assume the victim role today, because we're starting with the lower limb and pelvis today."

I was amused that Ms. Hinrichs spoke of "victims" in connection with receiving a massage. After all, I imagined a massage to be something very pleasant, but that was before I had even experienced my first massage. It was obvious that my classmates also imagined massages to be something rather pleasant, because an unusually large number of them suddenly speculated that they were actually about to get their period, which was why they were so eager to take on the role of victim today. It seemed a foregone conclusion to me that I would massage myself today rather than be massaged.

"So, if everything's clear so far, I'd like to ask you to pair up and go to the massage tables. You'll find an oil dispenser, positioning material, and fitted sheets in the back of the cupboards. Please make sure to completely cover the lying surfaces with the fitted sheets to avoid oil stains on the massage table. Mr. Lennard, would you please stay here with me?"

Oh dear, what role had I suddenly found myself in? Was this woman trying to frame me as a demonstration victim? I really didn't want to be the center of attention and exposed naked to the gaze of my classmates. But as it quickly turned out, that it was exactly this what was going to happen!

"Well, ladies, luckily we at least have one man among us who clearly has some decent muscles to show off. Looking around here, I'm afraid I have to say there seem to be some pretty skinny girls among you. I can only advise you to exercise regularly and eat sensibly if you don't want to fail in your job as a physiotherapist in your late twenties. After all, you've chosen a profession that will require a lot of strength and endurance."

Among those who felt addressed, there were a few concerned expressions, while the majority nodded in agreement. This was no surprise, since almost everyone who had chosen this vocational training and successfully passed the entrance exam was quite athletic and correspondingly well-built. Two of them, Beate and Claudia, however, tended toward the overweight side, while Saskia, Petra, and Susanne, with their skinny little arms and legs, looked like anorexics to me.

"So, once you've all found a partner, please decide among yourselves who will be massaged today. The one doing the massage stays clothed, and the others please undress and place their clothes on the windowsill at the back so no one trips over them. Furthermore, from now on, I don't want to see any smartphones or other electronic devices switched on. If I hear even a single ringtone or vibrating alarm, you'll really have trouble with me."

Aha, I thought so! At least two-thirds of the class suddenly started frantically searching their bags for their cell phones to turn them off. It should have been common knowledge by now that cell phones were strictly prohibited during class in all teaching subjects. Yet, I haven't experienced a single class so far where something didn't vibrate somewhere, or occasionally even ring. Some were even so clever that they believed they didn't have to turn off their phones if they had a cough or throat clearing set as their ringtone. In any case, I thought it was good that one of the teachers finally took consistent action and didn't simply roll their eyes and tolerate the ringing or vibrating heart-lung machines of some smartphone-adicted classmates.

After all devices were finally turned off, some of the girls began to undress very timidly and shamefacedly, while others were standing naked at their massage tables, waiting for further instructions, just a blink of an eye after Ms. Hinrich's final announcement. It took quite an effort not to stare conspicuously at so much naked flesh, but of course I couldn't resist the occasional discreet glance. Some of the girls had truly fantastic figures and could have stepped straight out of a Playboy issue. What surprised me most, however, was that almost all of them were shaved down there.

"Ms. Petersen, I see you don't have a partner. Please come up to the front with me. You can practice on Mr. Lennard."

"So," Ms. Hinrichs began again after Svenja Petersen, a very sweet-looking but apparently rather shy classmate, had joined us, "if the young man would slowly make an effort to peel off his clothes, perhaps we could start the massage even today!"

Perhaps, before I undress in front of the whole class, I should first introduce myself to the readers of this story. Ms. Hinrichs has already told you that my last name is Lennard. My first name is Patrick, but good friends simply call me Pax. Please don't ask me how I got that nickname. Someone gave me that name in elementary school, and ever since, it's been a part of me, like a birthmark on my butt. Otherwise, there isn't much else interesting to report about me. It's some time ago, I graduated from high school and, with a grade that wasn't that bad but not good enough, I immediately gave up on studying medicine. I Germany, my home country you need an A+ school degree if you want to study medicine, which I hadn't. Since I was basically too lazy for such a degree anyway, but on the other hand, I was very interested in a career with as direct a connection as possible to sports and health, it made sense for me to apply for an apprenticeship as a physiotherapist.

At that time, in Germany, which is my home country, anyone who wanted to become a physiotherapist had to complete a three-year training course, while in most other countries a four-year bachelor's degree was required. The fact that my application to the physiotherapy school was successful turned out to be a stroke of luck, as there were a solid four-figure number of applicants for the 25 training positions at the university hospital. Of the many applicants, a total of 250 were invited to the entrance exam, which was ruthlessly screened out. So, whoever was ultimately accepted for the training program could really boast about their accomplishments. It was an open secret that three classmates in my year only got an apprenticeship because they had influential parents, but none of us knew who they were. Actually, another man was supposed to start the training alongside me, but he backed out at the last minute because he made up his mind to study something else. Tuition at the university was free, whereas you had to pay a lot for the tuition at any of the few private schools spread all over the country. It was common knowledge that the level of education at universities was very high, while many of the private schools had a rather dubious reputation.

After graduating from school, I completed a voluntary social year as a supervisor in disability sports and at a facility for disabled children, which further strengthened my career choice. In addition to my training, I also work as an athletics coach in the youth department of my club. I was quite successful in pole vaulting there until I started with my social year which left me no more time for regular training. After the voluntary social year, I somehow had lost touch and no longer had the time to build on my previous successes.

Oh, so you want to know more about me? Okay, if that's what you need. So, I'm almost nineteen years old now, six foot two, and still in pretty good shape thanks to my years of competitive sports. Even though I haven't been training properly for a long time, my six-pack is still quite visible, and the rest of me is also in good shape. Whether I'm otherwise good-looking or ugly is for others to judge.

You want to know if I have a girlfriend? No, unfortunately I don't. When I was sixteen, I was head over heels in love with a girl from my track and field club. She was a real dream of a girl not only gorgeous, but also with her heart in the right place. I even think she found me quite nice. To my utter dismay, however, one day she had a fatal accident on her motor bike on the way home from school, shortly after I met her. A drunken Golf GTI driver had completely run her over before crashing into a tree and also dying in the process. Since then, I've placed a flower every week on the wooden cross erected at the scene of the accident, and since then, I've also had a hard time approaching girls. So, I'm still single. And yes, that's why I'm still a Virgo, of course.

What? You also want to know the length of my cock? You don't seem embarrassed by any question at all, do you? Okay, after all, this is supposed to be an erotic story, so I won't take offense at the question. At just about seventeen centimeters which is about 6,7 inches, my cock is probably a bit above average, if I can believe the search engine. However, when flaccid, you wouldn't believe it to be that long, because I have a blood penis that, when in standby, resembles a small gherkin. If you're familiar with Michelangelo's David in Florence, you might know what I mean.

My tiny gherkin naturally made me a little uncomfortable now that I was suddenly supposed to undress in front of all my classmates. First impressions count, and I was worried about what kind of stereotype the girls would put me in if I presented myself to them as David. Whether I could compensate for this with my otherwise quite attractive and well trained body seemed rather questionable to me.

"Well, Mr. Lennard, what are you waiting for? Would you like Ms. Petersen to help you undress?"

My classmates, of course, found this stupid remark hilarious and laughed horribly, while I wasn't in the mood to laugh at all. I could practically feel the blush rising in my face. Fortunately, Ms. Hinrichs seemed to have correctly assessed my predicament and helped me out at the last moment.

"Ladies, perhaps you could all turn around for a moment while your colleague here drops his pants. As soon as he's lying on his stomach, you're welcome to look back."

It was quite obvious that most of my classmates weren't particularly happy about this, as disappointment seemed written all over their faces. I could also hear fragments of phrases like "unfair" or "equal rights for all" in the general whispering. Nevertheless, they all turned their backs on me, except for Svenja, who apparently didn't feel addressed, probably because she was standing behind Ms. Hinrichs, so she didn't notice. Of course, stripping naked in front of Svenja alone bothered me less at that moment than in front of the whole class, so I quickly slipped out of my clothes and lay down naked on the lounger, keeping my legs close together so my most intimate body parts weren't openly exposed.

"So, ladies in their Eve costumes, when you're ready, please all lie on your stomachs. The therapists, please ensure that the patients are comfortable. There's plenty of positioning material available."

As soon as Ms. Hinrichs had given her instructions, I felt Svenja working on my legs and placing a soft roll under my feet. It was actually much more comfortable, and I was able to put myself in the patient's shoes. The importance of this small gesture for the patient's personal well-being immediately became clear to me.

"Good, next, place your patient's legs in a slightly splayed position so that you can easily reach the adductors when massaging them later."

What's going on now? They're not going to spread my legs, are they? Anyone can count the hairs on my balls! But it was all to no avail, because Mrs. Hinrichs and Svenja had already grabbed one of my legs each, which they mercilessly spread outwards, so that my crown jewels were suddenly lying in the fresh air. At least I had trimmed my wildly overgrown tail and ball curls a few days ago, so maybe the sight wasn't so bad. Still, I would have liked to have chosen for myself who got to see my most precious parts and who didn't. I had to fight down the inner urge to close my legs immediately with the utmost willpower. In the end, though, I calmed down a bit because I had to accept that any resistance would only have exposed me to ridicule and made me a laughingstock among my classmates.

So, out of necessity, I resigned myself to my fate and waited for what would happen to me. Naturally, I wondered how the others would cope in their role as victims, so I discreetly glanced to the side. The panoramic view was actually worth it, because several of the girls lying on their stomachs had their feet towards me, so I could see unobstructed between their spread thighs and into their crotches. Secretly, I scanned the neighboring massage tables through half-closed eyelids and examined the shaved vulvas of Maren, Katja, and Daniela one after the other. Somehow, this sight didn't initially hold anything erotic for me, because closed and hairless labia reminded me more of little preschool girls on the beach than of sexually desirable young women my own age. Just the sensual sight of the shapely bottoms set my hormones a little into a frenzy. But when my gaze wandered further to the left, my breath caught and I thought I was going to get dizzy. With her legs spread wide, the red-haired Nora presented me with her vulva, framed by short, reddish ringlets. Her inner labia were clearly prominent and gaping open, as if Nora were inviting me to look down inside to count her teeth. As if that weren't enough, the delicate pink of her inner lips was coated with moisture that glistened seductively in the glow of the overhead lights. Totally porn!

Of course, I've seen many female vulvas in all sorts of variations in all kinds of porn on the internet. Yes, I admit that I watch porn regularly. Any man who claims otherwise is lying. At least, any man who doesn't have someone to let off some steam with every now and then. In any case, I've never before seen a pair of open labia in real life, let alone with such erotic radiance. Of course, this had an immediate effect on the pumping powerhouse in my midsection, which, given my spread legs, was more than embarrassing!

When my penis suddenly awoke from its deep sleep and inexorably pushed itself toward the foot of the massage table, the scratching of my glans against the terry cloth of the fitted sheet sent chills through my bones (I'm circumcised, by the way, if I haven't mentioned that yet). I sincerely hoped that this state of affairs would remain hidden from at least Svenja and Mrs. Hinrichs, although it should have been clear to me that the exact opposite would be true with my legs spread!

"So, first come the introductory strokes to distribute the massage oil over the entire lower limb. We begin with a long stroking motion. To do this, pour plenty of oil into your hand and spread it in both hands. No oil is poured directly onto the patient! Okay, now wrap your hands around the lower leg at the level of the Achilles tendon and stroke as widely as possible from bottom to top over the entire back of the leg, including the inner and outer thighs. Spread your hands like two butterfly wings to coat as many areas of skin as possible with the oil. As you continue stroking over the gluteus maximus toward the sacrum, be careful not to slip your hands into the anal fold or expose your patient's anus. I don't want to catch any of you pulling your patient's buttocks apart!"

Immediately, giggles and whispers erupted from all corners, which only slowly died down again. Massaging a bare bottom was new territory for many of us, but we would surely get used to it as our training progressed.

As Ms. Hinrich's strong hands glided up the entire back of my leg, I felt goosebumps spreading inexorably across my entire body. Her fingertips slid directly toward the junction of my legs, only to brush past my testicles at the very last moment and run slippery over my bottom. I almost thought I felt a breeze on my cock as her hand brushed past it.

"Now that you've reached the very top of the sacrum, bring your hands back just as broadly, but this time include the entire foot, including the instep, by completely encircling it with your hands and allowing the movement to extend down to the toes," Mrs. Hinrichs continued her explanation as I felt her hands stroking me.

This time, I even thought I felt a very light touch on my testicles, which instantly pumped even more blood to my penis. This wasn't helped by the fact that through my eyelids, I could see Nora's labia being stretched even further by Frederike's hands, which stroked them closely past them and up over her perky ass. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then I realized that Nora was pushing her butt up a little every time Frederike's hand approached her pubic area. What a horny bitch!

To make matters worse, Svenja's hands also moved into action on my right leg, trying to synchronize and mirror Mrs. Hinrich's movements. So now there were two hands repeatedly passing over my penis and testicles, giving me the most delicate touches that, whether intentional or not, sent one thrill after another through my very sensitive nerves.

I don't know if you also have a penis of your own and can remember the first time you felt a woman's hand touching it? For me, this moment was definitely a revelation, with only the difference that there were two women at the same time that let me have this wonderful experience. Touching yourself was nothing compared to that!

"Yes, that's how you do it. When you've reached the bottom again with your strokes, repeat the whole process from the beginning. You can increase the pressure of your hands a little and thus begin the proper massage. Normally, it's enough to repeat this movement six to eight times. Today, however, you can do it more often so you get a feel for massaging your patient. Is everything alright with you, Mr. Lennard?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I managed to utter somewhat intelligibly through half-closed teeth. It's just not so easy to talk when you're lying on your face.

Now four hands repeatedly ran over the back of my legs and my bottom, which felt incredibly good. I could clearly feel the difference between Ms. Hinrichs's firm, gripping hands and Svenja's more tender caresses. Both were definitely very pleasant for me and could have continued like that for hours.

"So, Ms. Petersen, please take over for Mr. Lennard while I watch your colleagues."

Feeling Svenja's hands on my skin was a truly sensual experience. I literally melted beneath her delicate fingers and began to calm down a bit, as she now seemed to maintain a certain safe distance from my sensitive parts. If this had continued, I would surely have drifted off at some point, had Ms. Hinrichs's shrill voice not repeatedly brought me back to this world when she gave corrective instructions at one massage table or another.

My gaze kept being drawn between Nora's legs. The sight was truly too hot! Just to make another direct comparison, I glanced over at Maren, who was also beginning to show the first signs of change. Her outer labia were no longer tightly pressed together, but instead offered a clear view of her inner labia, which shimmered discreetly but visibly moist between them.

Katja's vulva hadn't changed at all. However, given how uninspired Petra was moving her hands down her leg, this didn't surprise me at all. Petra obviously seemed to have no feeling for massage at all. I would definitely keep this in mind for later, if we ever pair up for massage again. Not only was there absolutely nothing to massage on the skinny Petra, but being massaged by her didn't appeal to me at all!

In contrast to Katja, Daniela's vulva was now open like a barn door, as if she wanted to compete with Nora. This certainly didn't look like a preschool girl at the beach anymore. So, I might have to reexamine my preference for unshaven pussies. In any case, I found it somewhat reassuring that I wasn't the only one who was intrigued by the crotch massage.

Suddenly, Ms. Hinrichs was back at the massage table with us and indicated to Svenja that she could interrupt her massage.

"So, now we come to the next technique, the transverse stroke. To do this, place your hands side by side on the outside of the calf muscles of the leg closest to you and begin by alternately shifting the muscles at right angles to the fibers. While one hand moves inward, the other hand moves in the opposite direction, so that the muscles beneath your hands are stretched transversely to the fibers. Your hands are constantly gliding past each other. At first, perform the technique with very light force, so don't go too deep. As you perform this stroke, move your hands further and further up the leg. Include the inner thigh, all the way up to the pubic bone, where the adductors attach."

While she explained the technique, she demonstrated it again on my leg. Some of my classmates, who were working at the back massage tables, had come forward to get a better view, until finally, everyone was standing around me. Now everyone would be able to see that my cock was fully extended between my legs! I desperately tried to rid my brain of any unerotic thoughts to calm my erection. Unfortunately, I couldn't, even with the best will in the world. How could I, when right now I felt Ms. Hinrich's finger on my pubic bone, the back of her hand in full contact with my cock!

What was that all about? Now Svenja actually started stroking my other leg at the same time, crosswise, while everyone else was still standing around me, and I was standing with my legs spread, showing off my fully erect cock like it was on a silver platter! And that's not all, because it was more than noticeable that most of them crowded around the foot of the massage table, while only three or four of my classmates stood at the head end, from where the demonstrated technique would have been just as easy to see!

Oh God, what's going on here? Four hands had now worked their way down to my groin and were stroking the inside of my thighs in perfect synchronicity, my penis practically clamped between the backs of the four hands and rocking back and forth in unison. The fact that sweat was already breaking out on my forehead certainly wasn't due to the room temperature!

"Be careful," Ms. Hinrichs continued her explanation, "that you don't accidentally press into the adductor space on the inside. Up here on the pubic ramus, however, you can massage safely because all the nerves and vessels run below the adductors."

"Yes, but my cock's nerves run all the more superficially here!" I was about to object, but bit back the comment and instead searched for some turn-off images in my brain.

To emphasize her words, she kept her hands on my crotch for quite a while, but this time performed the gripping technique with a little more force. And as if that weren't enough, Svenja did the same, so that my cock was now under even more pressure. Didn't they both really know what they were about to do to me? I could already feel my balls starting to boil when the hands suddenly disappeared from my danger zone.

"So, ladies, with the long and cross strokes, we have now begun the actual massage, distributing the oil evenly and putting the patients in a pleasantly relaxed mood. If you would then please return to your massage tables to practice the technique, we can begin the next technique even more quickly."

What a pleasant "relaxed mood." If Ms. Hinrichs only knew what she and Svenja had just done to me. If you just replace the word "relaxed" with the word "horny," I could easily sign this sentence!

It took quite a while until all the victims were back in the prone position and the various positioning pillows and cushioned rolls were back in their correct places. Ms. Hinrichs moved from one massage table to the next, giving small instructions and corrections here and there. Meanwhile, Svenja didn't want to stand around idly, but instead used the time to practice the final grip once again, thoroughly. And when I say she did this "thoroughly," I particularly mean including my penis, which she repeatedly brushed over with the backs of her hands. I'd really be interested to know why she spent much longer in my groin with this technique than on the rest of my leg. I was almost tempted to accuse her of ulterior motives, but then Ms. Hinrichs did the same thing during the demonstration earlier. So close your eyes and get on with it!

It felt as if a horde of ants were crawling over my cock. At least Ms. Hinrichs seemed relaxed, because after approaching our massage table again, she waited calmly until Svenja had completed her technique. She watched with interest, without intervening to correct her. So, she was obviously satisfied with Svenja's performance. In principle, I was, too. However, in a relaxed setting, with appropriate music in the background and intimate lighting, I would have preferred her hand on my cock than in front of everyone else!

"Okay, next comes the iliotibial band. As you know from your anatomy class, it's not a muscle, but an aponeurosis [a flat, connective tissue tendon structure] that runs the entire length of the outer thigh. It transmits the force of the tensor fasciae latae, the gluteus maximus, and the gluteus medius muscles to the lateral knee joint, making it a very important stabilizer of the leg axis. Up here at the hip, it runs directly over the greater trochanter [the part of the femur that can be felt directly under the skin, just below the hip joint], where it's protected by a bursa. Here, you should never work with pointed fingers or deep frictional techniques, but always work superficial and, above all, always in the direction of the heart."

Ms. Hinrichs paused briefly and made sure she had our undivided attention before continuing her explanation.

"Those of you who exercise may have had one or two unpleasant encounters with a fascia roller in this area. You wouldn't believe how much damage you can cause with a fascia roller! I can't even imagine how many medical laypeople, for example, have fallen for the whisperings of YouTube influencers and other incorrigible idiots and contracted chronic bursitis from their fascia rollers!"

"Why? You Tube influencers are great!" Petra interrupted. "They give really good tips and advice on YouTube!"

"So, as a freshman, I'll let you get away with falling for this nonsense. But by the second semester at the latest, you should understand that internet advisers mostly don't have the slightest clue about medical matters. Just because they might pose in white clothes in front of a skeleton model doesn't make them medical experts. Most of them are nothing less than very clever salesmen who capitalize on the credulity of medical laypeople and manage to pass off their own lay medical understanding as expert knowledge to uncritical internet users. People follow some of these wanna-be prophets like lemmings and even let them rip them off for completely overpriced and unnecessary products. Talk to Dr. Morgana about these guys. She will be able to share with you some examples of patients we have had to admit after following tips from YouTubers. But now, please, let's get on with the lesson; after all, we still have some grip techniques ahead of us!

"But I'm follower of a YouTuber whose tips always rank first on Google. So what he's saying can't be all that wrong, can it?"

"My dear Ms. Wendeling, you still have a lot to learn. YouTubers who rank at the top of Google's lists most likely didn't earn that position through their medical expertise, but rather by paying Google money to get to the top of the list of all sorts of medical topics. Since most internet users are too lazy to browse through the search results, they just keep clicking on the top entry. That's how the whole thing became self-sustaining."

A murmur of agreement went through the rows, which Petra was clearly uncomfortable with. "But I..." she was about to object, but Ms. Hinrichs interrupted her.

"Enough about this unpleasant topic! If you want to get serious information, then pick up a good book or consult one of the relevant, well-known, scientifically sound databases. In a year or two, you will be able to rely on your own acquired medical expertise and your hopefully sharpened common sense and realize that you can't simply rely on internet influencers. Now, however, I would like to continue with my lesson, if that's okay with you."

Slowly, calm returned, and Ms. Hinrichs continued her demonstration. "We're now treating the leg facing away from us. Therefore, stand very close to the table, place this leg against the other, and support yourself with your thighs or pelvis to protect your back. When you lean on your patient, please always place a towel between you for hygienic reasons. In this case, simply because you might otherwise get your clothes dirty on your oiled-up victim."

A weight was lifted from my heart when Ms. Hinrichs pulled my left leg towards my right, finally hiding my erection. On the other hand, this of course had the disadvantage that I no longer got the saucy glimpses between the thighs of Nora, Maren, Katja, and Daniela. At least this helped immensely to calm my cock. Since there was nothing interesting for me to see anymore, I might as well close my eyes again and listen to Ms. Hinrichs' words and concentrate on her next massage technique.

I could clearly hear a rustling and creaking of the massage tables as the half of the class that was lying down slid closer to the edges. I wanted to do this too, but Ms. Hinrichs asked me to stay in the middle of the massage table, as otherwise Svenja would have had to bend too far forward.

"Fine. We'll start with our grip on the fibular head, below the knee joint. From there, stroke the ball of your hand across the knee joint gap, first without applying any pressure, and then increase your pressure until you can clearly feel the thigh bone under your ball of your hand."

Apparently, Petra hadn't grasped the technique at all, which Ms. Hinrichs fortunately noticed immediately.

"Ms. Wendeling, this won't work. Please switch hands and massage with the other hand!"

I had my eyes closed, but I could well imagine that Petra was still clumsily pressing on her victim even after switching hands. I felt really sorry for Katja. She was probably getting the completely wrong impression of massage.

"Now move your hand upwards with great pressure over the entire iliotibial tract and glide over the greater trochanter without pressure before increasing the pressure again over the muscle belly and letting it flow to the front along the iliac crest."

The hands gliding over my leg felt really good, and I noticed some tension being released from my paule vaulting session the day before. I was happy to continue like this.

"After you've performed this grip about eight to ten times, it would normally be the gluteus maximus' turn. As an exception, however, we'll change the order and work on the iliotibial tract on the other side first so that Ms. Petersen can also practice. Ms. Petersen, would you please take over?"

I almost fell asleep, but was stopped from drifting off when Ms. Hinrichs asked me to switch to Svenja's side of the massage table. At first, I was a little disappointed because what Ms Hinrichs had just done felt really good on my left leg. To my great surprise, Svenja did a really good job on my right leg, and I could have almost fallen asleep again, except for the announcement that my bottom would be next. This too was not without a certain appeal and would hopefully be possible with closed legs.

"Very good, Ms. Petersen. Repeat the move two more times and then you can stop."

After Svenja let go of me, Ms. Hinrichs asked me to slide back to her side of the massage table so she could continue her demonstration of the gluteus maximus massage.

"As you can see, ladies, we have a particularly beautiful example of a gluteus maximus here for once. When massaging, always remember not to stretch your patient's anal fold. You don't want to know what unpleasant things might otherwise emerge in one case or another. So no matter which move you use, you should always apply pressure towards the center with at least one hand to keep the anal fold closed."

As she spoke, Ms. Hinrichs kneaded my ass with real force. I was amazed at how much power this woman had in her hands. She kept giving new instructions and demonstrating different grip sequences and hand positions. I almost thought it was time to switch back to Svenja, when Ms. Hinrichs cruelly taught me otherwise.

"So, ladies, as you've probably all noticed, a buttock is a pretty powerful and voluminous muscle, which can pose quite a challenge for your delicate hands. If you want to stay reasonably healthy in your career until retirement, you should get into the habit of sparing your fingers and hands such heavy work whenever possible. You can easily do this with the gluteus maximus by using your elbow instead of your hands when massaging. To do this, you should first oil your own elbow thoroughly. Then place it on the underside of the posterior iliac crest and guide it to the front along the underside of the crest, exerting great pressure."

As her words echoed in my ears, I thought my last hour had come. A searing pain spread through my pelvis, as if Ms. Hinrichs were tearing the flesh from my bones. At the same time, horrific screams of pain from my classmates reached my ears from all directions. Obviously, I wasn't the only one being subjected to an unforeseen torture at that moment. While everyone else in the room shook off their massage victims in panic, Ms. Hinrichs, completely unfazed, pinned me to the massage table with her elbow. My pride forbade me from begging for mercy or simply tapping it with my hand, as one would in martial arts when one wanted to throw in the towel and give up. But my inner self was practically screaming to finally raise the white flag to put an end to the torture as quickly as possible.

"Ladies, don't think massage is always a pleasant experience. If you've found a really stubborn tension, a massage can be really painful. You'll remember that soon when we tackle the neck muscles. So, ladies, close your eyes and go for it. Each of you will perform this technique at least eight times, before we move on to a more pleasant technique as compensation."

I had no choice but to resign myself to my fate and then endure it with my other buttocks at the hands of Svenja. To make matters worse, she became downright ambitious about it, without feeling a single shred of pity for me. Just wait, Svenja, it's my turn next week and then you'll bitterly regret what you just did to me! At least the noise level in the room told me that I wasn't the only one enduring such hellish torment. I was sure the other victims were having similar thoughts of revenge!

It was a liberating feeling to finally feel the pain subside. Amazingly, my bottom now felt really loose and incredibly relaxed. A glance to the side revealed the red welts that had also spread across the buttocks of the other victims. Yes, now I understood that calling us victims was absolutely justified!

"Very gooood," Ms. Hinrichs said again, stretching out her voice once everyone had calmed down somewhat, "if you have patients who are on Marcumar or other blood-thinning medications, you obviously can't use such techniques. Otherwise, you'll have to explain to your patients why they have bruises on their bottoms for weeks after the massage. Likewise, there are always patients with a very low pain tolerance who should also be spared this technique if you don't want to scare them away forever. Even if you want to massage your partner, I assume you don't want to cause them such pain. On the other hand, as a prospective physiotherapist, experience has shown that you will regularly be begged for free massages. This is where it makes sense to use such techniques specifically if you want to get rid of massage scroungers once and for all."

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and hardly a single one of my classmates didn't recount how often they'd been approached by friends and acquaintances for an extensive demonstration of their newly acquired massage skills. Unfortunately, many people still believe that a physiotherapist's skills consist primarily of massage, although this actually only represents a very small part of their extensive repertoire.

Through my half-closed eyelids, I could observe how calm slowly returned and the victims all lay back on their stomachs, looking forward to a more pleasant grip technique. Some, however, were still joking around, announcing how they were looking forward to showing off their painful massage technique to their friends.

"So, everyone, please come forward and spread out around the massage table. The next technique isn't easy at all, especially because it requires skillful leverage and the coordination of your arms and hands."

Ms. Hinrichs paused for a moment and waited until the entire class had spread out around the massage table, where I waited, full of anticipation, for the next technique, which would hopefully compensate me for the torture I had endured. Little did I know how extensive the compensation promised would actually be!

"Wow, just look at the welts on Patrick's ass!" I heard one of the girls behind me.

"Your ass doesn't look much better, Nora!" came the spontaneous reaction from one of the others, which caused general laughter.

"Okay, let's go then. Mr. Lennard, please be so kind as to slide right up to me on the right edge of the bench. Yes, that's fine."

Ms. Hinrichs had a small towel in her hand, which she placed over my right hip before pressing her pelvis directly against me to support herself.

"So, ladies, the technique I'm about to show you next represents the very highest art of massage and isn't exactly easy. Normally, this technique is only learned during advanced training in manual therapy, i. e., only after passing the exam. But because you've all persevered so bravely, I'd like to reward you and teach you the technique today. If you master it well, your patients will adore you! So pay close attention and listen carefully. First of all, spread the patient's leg facing away from you as far out as you can, with your patient's knee as fully flexed as possible."

What? I think I'm going crazy! Is she about to drag my cock into the public eye again? Really? This can't be true! It was all to no avail, because the element of surprise was clearly on Ms. Hinrichs' side, and I suddenly found myself in a position of maximum exposure of my genitals. I casually noticed how a veritable mass migration seemed to be beginning around me, and most of my classmates were making their way back toward the foot of my massage table. I felt my head getting warm, and my face flushed with shame, though I couldn't control it.

My cock and balls lay spread out, like vegetables at the farmer's market! To make matters worse, my cock was just beginning to transform from a gherkin back into a fully grown cucumber. Unfortunately, I had briefly opened my eyes and found myself directly confronted with the pussies of two victim girls, who were exposing themselves to me not even half a meter in front of my eyes. Oh, if only I had been gay at that moment, the sight of them might have left me cold. As it was, I had no control over the key stimulus of the two vertical pairs of lips fully impacting my erectile tissue, which was now inexorably swelling. Of course, it was so predictable that excited whispering would break out among the girls!

"If you ever use this technique with a real patient later, it's advisable to cover the intimate area with a towel. But luckily, we're just among ourselves here, and you'll soon see it as perfectly normal to show yourselves openly to each other. Or would you perhaps prefer me to cover you down there, Mr. Lennard?"

Hey, did this woman really want me to out myself as a prudish, uptight wimp in front of all my classmates? Why didn't she just take a towel and discreetly and without any ifs and buts place it over my crown jewels?

"Uh, it's okay," I mumbled, resigned to my fate. If there were a trapdoor beneath me, I'd love to search for the lever, pull it, and disappear inside undetected. So, unfortunately, I had no choice but to delight the rest of the class with the sight of my completely erect cock and bulging balls. If only I'd at least jerked off in the last few days, I wouldn't be feeling this miserable pressure on my cock that was driving me crazy!

"So, ladies, pay close attention. First, slide your left forearm forward through your patient's groin and grasp the anterior part of the pelvis at the anterior superior iliac spine. With a man as well-endowed as our Mr. Lennard, it's not easy to avoid touching his penis. You should therefore ask the patient beforehand to cover it with one hand and, in this case, push it slightly to the right. Of course, if he has as much blood flow as the specimen we see here, he will hardly allow himself to be pushed to the side. In such a case, you should definitely stop the treatment. At least if you work in a medical facility rather than a tantric massage practice, this is where the fun would end. However, I think we can deviate from this rule here as an exception, because after all, we're just among ourselves, and you all want to learn something."

Yes, just talk, I'm fine. I can already see all the girls lined up behind me, staring at my crotch with wide eyes and tongues lolling!

"Is that okay with you, Mr. Lennard?"

"If you're going to snuggle up to my cock with your forearm, feel free to call me Patrick or Pax. By the way, anyone I let play with my penis in public is allowed to call me that!" could have been my immediate response. In reality, all that came out of my mouth was "It's okay." What was I supposed to do when I was lying on the slaughter bench and everyone around me was already sharpening their knives?

"Okay, then please watch carefully. As you can see, I've rested my left elbow on the massage table. This not only relieves the strain on my back, but also provides a good lever arm, because if I bend my elbow slightly now, I can easily lift my patient's pelvis a little."

When Ms. Hinrichs bent her elbow, this not only lifted my pelvis, but also pulled my glans across the terry cloth of the fitted sheet. I sincerely hoped she wouldn't lift me too far, because otherwise my cock would have stood up like a car jack beneath me, and she would have had a hard time getting me back onto the massage table again. Luckily, her attempt to lift me stopped after just a few centimeters, and I could breathe a sigh of relief.

Did I just say "relief"? Perhaps I should limit the relief to the fact that I wasn't being jacked up on my cock. Rubbing my glans against the terry cloth felt anything but relieving. I'd bet the girls at the foot of the massage table were thoroughly enjoying the sight of the pre-cum that was visibly oozing from my urethra at that very moment!

"What you could observe here," said Ms. Hinrichs as she lowered my pelvis back onto the table, causing my glans to rub downwards again over the terry cloth, "was the movement of my left arm. Now I add the use of my right hand, which I push forward along the christa deep through the muscle tissue. I perform both movements synchronously, creating a kind of mobilizing pumping motion. This technique is therefore also called a mobilizing massage because it simultaneously mobilizes the sacroiliac joint to a posterior position, while the gluteus maximus is detonized."

Ms. Hinrichs then repeatedly performed this technique in a steady rhythm, slowly starting to churn in my balls because, of course, my glans was being continuously rubbed against the rough cover of the massage table, and I could feel her forearm on my cock throughout the entire session!

Only after about 20 pumping strokes did she lay me back down on the massage table and pull her hand out from under my groin. I couldn't help but get the impression that the touch of her fingertips on my glans wasn't as accidental as she was trying to make it seem.

"So, Ms. Petersen, now you can try your luck!"

I would have expected everyone to return to their therapy couches and start practicing the new technique themselves. In fact, not a single one of my classmates made any attempt to move. They probably preferred to watch Svenja slide her hand past my cock and through my groin.

Svenja leaned down slightly to whisper in my ear, gently placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Would you please do me a favor and move a little closer? I then won't have to lean over you so far, and I'll be able to get closer to you. Thank you, that's fine."

The gentle touch on my shoulder and her pleasant voice in my ear did something to me at that moment that I couldn't even believe. Even though, having the many, partly naked girls around us at that moment, my subconscious seemed to desire nothing more than to be touched by Svenja in the same way I had been touched by Ms. Hinrichs before. Consciously, however, I wanted to shout out loud, "STOP! STEP BACK! HANDS OFF!", which of course, I didn't dare.

I could feel Svenja's pelvis, which she was using to support herself against the massage table and my right hip. She completely forgot to place the towel between us, which Ms. Hinrichs had previously recommended for this purpose. She was sure to get her white pants dirty with the massage oil on my skin. As soon as I lay on the edge of the bench, she grabbed my leg and placed it in an obscenely spread position, just like Ms. Hinrichs had done before. This again immediately sparked more whispering among the other girls. When she suddenly pushed her hand through my groin, it was as if she had held a lit match to my fuse. I almost thought I felt every single one of her fingers on my balls before they wrapped themselves around my spine and gripped me firmly by the iliac crest.

When Svenja then applied the lever and lifted my pelvis off the couch, she obviously did so with great use of her biceps, because she lifted me considerably higher than Ms. Hinrichs had done before. Oh my God, how many times could I endure letting my glans drag across the sheet without exploding? I desperately tried to distract myself, to calm myself down somewhat. I tried to imagine an animal carcass run over on the highway, a full urine bag at the patient's bed, and the contents of the organic waste bin. But whatever I projected before my mind's eye wasn't enough to neutralize the effect of the friction on my glans across the terry cloth and bring me back down.

When Svenja finally laid me back down on the massage table after what felt like endless pumping, I thought at first I had finally gotten over it. But I hadn't counted on Svenja. As if she wanted to give me a special treat, she now withdrew her hand from under my groin very slowly, sliding first her forearm, then the back of her hand, and finally her fingers along the entire length of my cock. As soon as her fingers slid over my glans, what was bound to happen happened. The fuse, once lit, burned down to the explosive charge!

As if through a veil, I believed to hear somebody moaning laudly, without realizing it was me. I came in several powerful spurts, pouring all over Svenja's hand and her entire forearm. Some spurts must have shot over the foot of the massage table, because I heard one of the girls scream loudly and jump to the side in panic, while another exclaimed, "Jesus, how hot is that?" More spurts of cum shot out of my cock in never-ending fountains before the source slowly dried up.

I've never experienced such an intense orgasm before, nor have I ever ejaculated anything close to that amount. Svenja remained paralyzed, bent over me, unable to move. I doubt she intentionally left her arm next to my cock so I could cover it with my lukewarm cum. It was probably more likely a kind of shock that prevented her from fleeing. Although I should have been delighted by this incredible orgasm, the complete opposite was the case. The pungent smell of my ejaculate, which filled the air around the massage table, made it even worse for me. I was so ashamed of myself and would have preferred to disappear into the ground forever.

"Oh, it seems Mr. Lennard desperately needed a relaxing massage!" Ms. Hinrichs tried to play down the extremely embarrassing situation with dubious humor. "Ms. Radeberger, please get some tissue paper so Mr. Lennard can wipe himself down. And you, Ms. Petersen, you'd better go and wash your arm, because tissue paper alone probably won't be enough."

The rest of the lesson somehow passed me by completely. Only subconsciously did I notice a towel being placed over my cock before the front of my thigh was massaged. Since my orgasm, I'd had a complete blackout and didn't even remember what had happened in the other lessons that day. I don't remember ever making my way home, but somehow I must have made it to the nurses' residence on my own, where I had a small room all to myself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Back in the present, the day after the massage class:

I'd barely taken a seat in one of the back rows when the heavy, double doors opened and Dr. Morgana entered the lecture hall. Her first stop was the teacher's desk, where she connected her laptop to the lecture hall's audio and video system via USB. Shortly thereafter, the start screen appeared on the screen, followed by the desktop, where Dr. Morgana had placed several folders. With growing nervousness, I watched as the head of orthopedics clicked on several folders in various subdirectories one after the other. "Physiotherapy School Lectures" - "Anatomy 1st Semester" - "Upper Limb" - "Finger / Metacarpal / Carpus" - I deciphered the names of the individual folders before a PowerPoint presentation with large black letters on a light blue background opened on the screen. I read "Anatomy of the Hand" and felt sick.

Dr. Morgana looked up from her laptop and scanned the semesters's rows with a penetrating gaze. The room was so quiet that I could almost hear my own pulse in my ears. Dr. Morgana visibly enjoyed every moment of power she wielded over us before making her irrevocable decision for one of us. All it would have taken was a bombastic soundtrack to give the whole procedure the significance we all attached to it.

A broad smile appeared on Dr. Morgana's face. However, it wasn't an empathetic smile, but rather the smile of the snake Kaa from The Jungle Book, who fixed his potential victim with his piercing eyes, knowing that there was no escape. The moment the smile appeared on her face was, in my opinion, poorly chosen, because it was precisely the moment when her eyes were fixed on her prey: me!

Slowly but inexorably, Dr. Morgana approached me. With every step she took, I felt myself tighten. I could already see the dark clouds on the horizon as Dr. Morgana looked down at me from above.

"Good morning, Mr. Lennard. I heard you had a particularly relaxing massage class yesterday. Sometimes I really think I'm teaching the wrong subject."

I could almost physically feel the 23 girls in the lecture hall trying desperately not to laugh out loud and definitely not to look in our direction. No movement, no noise, not even an audible breath that might alert the hunter to another victim! Was I just imagining it, or was Dr. Morgana winking at me? I could literally see her in my mind's eye, opening her jaw wide to swallow me in one single piece when she suddenly turned away and placed her hand on the shoulder of the classmate sitting next to me.

"Mrs. Wendeling, would you please tell us something about the carpal bones!"

A ton of weight was lifted from my shoulders when Dr. Morgana didn't put me through the wringer, but Petra. Petra didn't do too badly, except for the fact that she confused the trapezium with the trapezoid when describing the order of the carpal bones. However, she was able to reproduce the configuration of the joint surfaces flawlessly, so much so that at the end of the knowledge test, Dr. Morgana jotted an asterisk next to Petra's name in her notebook. When I thought about how clumsy Petra had been during the massage yesterday, it seemed that her strengths lay more in theory than in practice.

With the good feeling of having once again escaped the merciless clutches of the chief physician, I swore to myself that I would never again expose myself in anatomy. The thought of "expose" immediately brought back yesterday's mishap. How would my classmates react to me? I discreetly glanced in one direction or another, repeatedly meeting the gaze of one of the girls in the lecture hall. Interestingly, I detected no mockery or malice, no cheeky grin, no sign of glee on their faces. In fact, everyone who made eye contact with me looked at me with a friendly and empathetic expression.

Even as I tossed and turned in bed last night, I was particularly preoccupied with the thought of how the rest of the semester would react to my yesterday's "accident". I could have sworn that a shit storm would hit me today. I remembered all too well how, at school, even in high school, every embarrassing mistake somebody made was exploited to the fullest by the others and repeatedly reprimanded for months on end by the person who caused the embarrassment. Here, however, the opposite seemed to be the case. Even Svenja, whose entire forearm I had cum all over, smiled at me. The fact that physiotherapists - and this includes physiotherapy students - don't tend to make fun of other people, but rather treat them with empathy and warmth, confirmed to me in retrospect that I had chosen the right profession!

It wasn't long until recess, and my curiosity was constantly rising, wondering if and how yesterday's incident would be directly addressed again in some way by one of my classmates. It was therefore visibly difficult for me to concentrate on my anatomy class, especially since the structure of the individual muscle layers of the metacarpals and fingers wasn't entirely straightforward. I had to admit to myself, whether I liked it or not, that I would probably have to review this topic again this evening if I didn't want to experience the Armageddon I had narrowly avoided just minutes ago.

The sound of the laptop closing on the teacher's desk brought me back to earth. This sound was synonymous with the school's break bell, so a general shuffling of chairs and packing up immediately began. I would soon see how the rest of the semester would react to me and my yesterday's mishap. I quickly packed my notepad and pen into my folder and headed for the lecture hall exit. The next double lesson would take place in the old gymnasium, located at the opposite end of the large orthopedic clinic complex. Ms. Gerber, the head of the physiotherapy school, didn't tolerate lateness, especially not when she was teaching the class herself.

Although the lecture hall had a large, double door, it seemed like a narrow funnel, so it was unavoidable that I would get really close to my classmates for the first time that morning. I felt a hand gently rest on my shoulder and immediately looked into a pair of shining eyes, from which Frederike looked at me with a friendly smile.

"Well, Pax, did you sleep well?" she asked me, making no attempt to remove her hand from my shoulder.

"Uh, yes. And you?" I replied, somewhat uncertain.

Frederike approached me and whispered softly in my ear: "Like an angel. After all, I only dreamed about you and little Pax last night! It's such a shame that you've paired up with Svenja and not with me!" While she spoke she gazed conspicuously discreetly in the direction of my midsection.

I was so perplexed by this answer that I was speechless at first. The second time, too, I preferred not to respond at all, but simply raised my eyebrows in disbelief. It could have been that Frederike was just teasing me. But the way her hand still rested on my shoulder before slowly stroking my back and over my bottom made me feel physically that she really meant it.

Now I had something to let sink in. Could it really be that with yesterday's mishap, I hadn't just lost the sympathy of my classmates, but had actually gained them? The very idea seemed so unbelievable to me that I was almost about to dismiss the idea as completely absurd, when Nora, who had slowly approached me on the way to the gym, suddenly spoke to me.

"Jesus, Pax, that show you put on yesterday was really awesome. Respect for sticking with it and not pulling the plug before you cum. Next time you're up to it again ask me to massage you!"

I was about to say something, but then I was glad I didn't. Who knows what else might have come out of my mouth at the end. Nora didn't give me any time to respond, because she'd barely finished before she slapped my butt with her hand, walked away laughing happily, and left me with my face bright red once again. Did she really think I'd intentionally set out to get a handjob? Did the others think the same thing afterward?

To be continued!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So, this was the first part of my story about the experiences of Patrick, the young physiotherapy student, who still has a whole host of exciting adventures ahead of him before his final exam. I had a lot of fun writing this story because I took the opportunity to include many small details that actually happened during my own physiotherapy training. In a sense, this story is therefore -- at least partially --autobiographical! Which part is autobiographical and which part is fictitious, I leave to the imagination of my readers, who I hope will enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

I've already written the first ten parts of the story. The only thing left to do is translate the other nine from German to English. I'll put the more effort into this the more feedback I get from you!

Thank you for commenting and rating!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The characters in the story in the order of their appearance:

- Patrick „Pax" Lennard - Physiotherapy student

- Dr. Rebecca Morgana - Lecturer in Anatomy, chief physician

- Frauke Hinrichs - Lecturer in massage techniques

- Beate Vollmer - Physiotherapy student

- Claudia Miller - Physiotherapy student

- Saskia Wagenbauer - Physiotherapy student

- Petra Wendeling - Physiotherapy student

- Susanne Morhardt - Physiotherapy student

- Svenja Petersen - Physiotherapy student

- Maren Radeberger - Physiotherapy student

- Katja Striebenow. Physiotherapy student

- Daniela Meininger - Physiotherapy student

- Nora Weinheimer - Physiotherapy student

- Frederike Denneborg - Physiotherapy student