Memories of a Physiotherapy Student #01 (fm:first time, 29373 words)

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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, Dr. Morgana taught us a mnemonic that helped us 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 more than 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 training 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. Lehmann, 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. Lehmann."

"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 Lehmann. 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 could feel that she found me quite nice too. To my utter dismay, however, one day she had a fatal accident on her motor bike on the way home from school, the very day I asked her, if she'd like to go out with me and she accepted. A drunken Golf GTI driver had completely run her over before crashing into a tree and also dying in the process. For just a few hours, I was the happiest boy on the planet before the tragic news of her sudden death reached me and plunged me into unhappiness for what felt like an eternity. 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 seven 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 feel 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. Lehmann, 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. Lehmann?"

"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. Lehmann 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. Lehmann, 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. Lehmann?"

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. Lehmann, 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. Lehmann?"

"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. Lehmann 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. Lehmann 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 wall behind her, 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. Lehmann. 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 after all, 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 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 anatomy class would be over, 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 to me 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 gazed 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 really made me horny. 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?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When we arrived at the old gym shortly afterwards, Ms. Gerber had already prepared a lot for us. The hall looked like a show jumping obstacle course. Various exercise equipment was spread throughout the gym. Two wooden benches, one upside down, the other right side up, a tall, multi-element gymnastics box, several exercise mats rolled up into smaller or larger rolls, exercise mats laid out flat on the floor, a Pedalo, a large, green exercise ball, a large pile of geometric building blocks with a blackboard suspended from a stand with cutouts that precisely fit the blocks, a Posturomed, a crawl tunnel, a balance pad and a thick soft mat. At each individual station, a large yellow piece of paper was taped to the floor, next to a sign with a number. There were twelve different stations in total. We curiously examined all the set-up equipment and wondered what would await us next.

I estimated Ms. Gerber to be in her mid- to late fifties. Even in her tight leotard, she struck me as a person of respect whose entire posture testified to years of iron discipline. A typical old-school physiotherapist who not only tried to train her patients to maintain a straight posture, but also exemplified it herself, practically celebrating it. Her alert eyes were constantly moving, as if she wanted to maintain control over everything going on around her. Despite her advanced age, she had the figure of a 30-year-old. The wrinkles around her eyes, her graying hair, and her slightly sunken cheeks alone revealed that she was no longer the youngest.

"Good morning, ladies and, of course, sir," Ms. Gerber greeted us, looking at me as the last person to be addressed. "As a rather small number of you will probably still remember, I pointed out to you at the beginning of the semester that I expected you to attend my class in appropriate clothing. And what do you think I mean by appropriate clothing? Ms. Wagenbauer, is your admittedly very pretty summer dress appropriate for this class?"

Saskia looked down, concerned, but before she could react, Ms. Gerber turned away from her and stood in front of me.

"And what about you, Mr. Lehmann? Do you really think you're appropriately dressed for my class in your tight jeans?"

"Uh..." I managed to say, searching for the most intelligent answer possible, just as Ms. Gerber had already turned to Brenda.

"And what about your jeans, Ms. Vollmer? Does a grown woman who expects to be taken seriously by those around her really still wear such deliberately torn pants? I thought ripped jeans were long out of fashion, or did I really miss something? I can guarantee you, though, that your jeans would most likely be completely shredded by the end of this lesson, because you'll probably get all those holes stuck everywhere!"

Ms. Gerber had talked herself into a frenzy. She looked around angrily. In fact, none of us had thought to put on our workout clothes. In the first lesson, our headmistress had explicitly told us that we had to wear form-fitting leotards or similar sportswear in her class. This was necessary in order to carry out movement exercises unhindered and to be able to observe and assess movement sequences precisely. However, the way most of us were currently dressed, this would have been impossible in any case. We all looked correspondingly stupid as Ms. Gerber cast her sparkling gaze over us. Somehow, none of us had remembered Ms. Gerber's introductory lesson, as she had been absent for the last two weeks and the subject of basics of physiotherapy and kinesthetics was therefore not scheduled to take place until today.

"Okay, since you obviously wanted it this way, you may now all undress down to your underwear."

Some of my classmates groaned in annoyance, others began peeling off their clothes until they were finally left standing there in only their underwear. Although the term "underwear" was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration for seven of my classmates, as theirs consisted of nothing more than sheer thongs or lace panties, and otherwise no bra. This fact alone caused considerable unrest in my reproductive organs, which made it extremely uncomfortable for me to have to perform a striptease as well. At the end of it, I was left with only a pair of airy boxers that barely contained my cock. With my hands clasped in front of my crotch, I tried to hide my tent. Never again, I swore to myself, would I wear such compressive underwear during my training. Tonight I'd buy myself tighter briefs that wouldn't allow my cock to move at all!

"Well, that's much better," Mrs. Gerber said happily, after we were all more or less free of any annoying clothing and were waiting for further instructions.

"Today we'll be looking at your ability to provide non-verbal assistance in tackling complex movement tasks. In your job as a physiotherapist, you'll often be faced with treating patients who don't respond to any verbal commands, whether because they're cognitively incapable, speak a different language, or have other communication difficulties."

Nadine excitedly raised her arm in the air and conspicuously cleared her throat to draw attention to herself.

"Yes, Ms. Gutermuth? What would you like to know?"

"What does cognitive mean?"

"The term cognitive describes the ability to perceive, recognize, or think about something. Or, to put it simply, the ability to use one's own mind. A quality that seems to be less pronounced in some of you, judging by your clothing today."

"Oh, I see!"

A noticeable murmuring went through the rows, from which it quickly became apparent that many of the others also only knew the term "cognitive" by hearsay, but were afraid to ask themselves. Fortunately, there were always someone who dared to ask, because that way you could always appear omniscient without having to admit your own lack of knowledge.

"So, if you have no further questions, I'd like to continue. Your task now will be to complete all twelve tasks I've prepared for you, together with a partner. One of you, in the role of the patient, will have your eyes blindfolded and your ears plugged with earplugs. The other of you will slip into the role of the therapist, who will guide the blind and deaf patient through the respective tasks using only touch, be it pressure or pulling, or by guiding individual body parts, without causing falls or injuries. While you guide your patient, I don't want to hear a single word from the therapists or patients. Do you have any questions up to this point?"

Svenja, who had stood right next to me after Ms. Gerber had announced that we would be paired up to complete the task, spoke up.

"Yes, Ms. Petersen?"

"How much time do we have for each task?"

"A very good question. I knew I'd forgotten something. Thank you, Ms. Petersen, for reminding me. So, you have all the time you need to accompany your partner, which I guess is Mr. Lehmann in your case, through the individual tasks. This isn't about pushing or urging the patient to finish as quickly as possible. It's simply about using touch to help, conveying empathy and helpfulness as sensitively as possible, and conveying to your handicapped partners at all times that they can rely on you and your help without question. After completing a task, hold hands and stand next to the station. As soon as I see that you have all completed your tasks, or it becomes apparent that you won't be able to complete them even with more time, you will hear a gong. This gong is the signal for the therapists to lead their patients to the next station. Here, the therapists first read through the task to be completed. And one more thing about completing the task: From the beginning to the end of the task, physical contact between patient and therapist must not be interrupted at any time. This applies both to the task itself and to the break between tasks. Remember that your patients are deprived of the ability to see and hear and are therefore completely helpless without your support. Constant physical contact with you is therefore extremely important.

Ms. Gerber paused for a long moment to let her words sink in before she continued.

"Being able to rely on your therapist at all times is by far the most important prerequisite you must fulfill to treat someone who is unable to orient themselves or help themselves. I therefore expect you to put all your empathy, all your feeling, and all your appreciation for your partner into fulfilling your task!"

Ms. Gerber paused again briefly, during which she sought eye contact with each of us in turn to make sure we all understood the meaning of her words.

"Great, a couple has already found each other. If I could then ask the other ladies to find a partner, I will distribute the earplugs and blindfolds."

Somehow, it felt strange that Ms. Gerber referred to Svenja and me as a couple. Strange, but not at all unpleasant. In fact, I had to admit to myself, it was even pleasant, and I dared a discreet glance to the side to get a closer look at Svenja. Luckily, she was looking the other way, so I felt unobserved. My breath caught in my throat when I realized that she was one of those girls who didn't wear a bra. Her perfectly formed breasts, like no other pair in the gym, corresponded to my absolute ideal. Not much more than a good handful, but evenly round and firm, without any sign of being subject to any kind of gravity. So Svenja didn't need a bra at all. Her areolas were small and circular, with clearly prominent nipples that I would have loved to wrap my lips around. Svenja's legs seemed endlessly long through the thong, even though she was almost a head shorter than me. The sight of her beautiful body captivated me so much that I didn't even notice Svenja suddenly turning towards me.

"So? Do you like what you see?"

It took a moment before I realized that it was me Svenja was talking to. I felt caught out and could feel myself blushing again. This constant blushing had haunted me since early childhood. I could never tell even the smallest lie or do anything stupid without getting caught in the red light. It was almost infuriating and incredibly embarrassing! Why couldn't I just keep cool in situations like this? Why was I never able to respond quickly to embarrassing questions? Inside, I could have cried with rage, but I just stood there, speechless, while two doe-brown eyes, in which I could have lost myself, stared at me intently, waiting for my answer.

"It's okay, you don't have to give me an answer. Looking down at you like this, you've already given me the answer. Thanks for the compliment by the way!"

I got this hint immediately, though, because my cock had now built a sizeable two-man tent in my boxers, which I could barely hide even with my hands.

"It's okay, you don't have to be embarrassed. I actually kind of think it's cool, as long as you don't cum all over me again!"

That broadside really hit home! Luckily, I couldn't see myself in any mirror at the moment. Svenja's words made my head probably resemble a red traffic light more than a human body part, except that my head probably glowed brighter than a traffic light.

"Sorry about yesterday," I mumbled barely audibly. "I'm really sorry!"

"You don't have to be. After all, I wasn't entirely uninvolved in this. Maybe I even enjoyed it?"

"Like, really?"

"Who knows? I..."

Svenja was just about to say something when Ms. Gerber suddenly appeared in front of us and handed us a blindfold and a pair of earplugs. Luckily, she had already turned to the couple standing next to us, so hopefully she missed the sight of my tent. Her sudden presence alone was enough to calm the little Pax down and cause the tent roof to collapse again. Now all I had to do was make sure the sight of twenty-three half-naked girls didn't arouse me too much again. This was easier said than done, though, as I found some of the exposed butts, in their sometimes incredibly sexy thongs or lace lingerie, much more erotic than if they had been naked!

"Okay, then in each couple, please blindfold the younger one of you and then lead them to one of the stations. From now on, the agreed rules apply. Permanent physical contact and absolute silence. As soon as you hear the gong, read the task to be completed and immediately begin solving it."

"And Patrick, how old are you?" Svenja asked me.

"I'll be nineteen in August. And you?"

"I turned eighteen two months ago. So it should be clear that I'm the victim today. Would you mind blindfolding me?"

Svenja handed me the blindfold and turned her back to me so I could tie it behind her head. She pushed the earplugs in herself.

Within a very short time, utter chaos reigned in the gym. Almost everyone had taken their blind partner by the hand and was dragging them behind them, trying to quickly occupy any station that looked like it wouldn't be too difficult to manage. This resulted in the first patients stumbling or bumping into others. It was immediately clear to me that this couldn't work. For the first time, my voluntary social year proved to be a real advantage, as my work with disabled children had already led me to deal with similar situations on numerous occasions. As an athletics coach, I was also trained from pole vaulting to provide assistance with difficult movements while still maintaining an overview.

I stood behind Svenja and first placed my hand on her back. During my first week of my voluntary social year, I had learned that touching the back of the body has a calming effect and builds trust, while touching the front of the body can lead to defensiveness and mistrust. Before I placed my hand on Svenja's shoulder, I let it rest on her back for a moment to give her time to build trust in me. I could literally feel her breathing calmer and seem to be waiting patiently for my next signal, while the bear danced around us.

Finally, standing behind her, I placed both hands on her shoulders. As a signal that we were about to begin, I gently pressed down, guiding Svenja in the direction I wanted her to go. By placing my fingertips on the front of her shoulders, I reassured her that she didn't have to fear falling forward, as I could catch her at any time. This also allowed me to signal her to stop or, if necessary, walk backward.

I slowly guided Svenja through the commotion. The whole thing happened completely silently, while small snatches of words, sometimes even whole sentences, could be heard from other couples. It was quite obvious that most of the therapists were completely overwhelmed by their task, while some of the patients' faces showed sheer panic. Barely half a minute had passed when Daniela ripped the blindfold off her eyes, sat down on the floor, crying and hyperventilating, covering her face with her hands. It was quite obvious that she was having a panic attack and had thrown in the towel.

A few months ago, when I twisted my knee during a bad landing while pole vaulting, I was prescribed physiotherapy for the first and, so far, only time in my life. My physiotherapist was very experienced in the field of sports physical therapy. In his practice, he had a small but nice training area equipped with all kinds of training devices. This included, among other things, a Posturomed, which I discovered during my treatment to be arguably the most effective training device for improving the stability of my knee again. At the end of the treatment, I was even able to jump into the air on one leg with my eyes closed on its unstable platform and land on my injured leg without wobbling. As my physiotherapist confirmed, he had rarely seen anyone so adept at using the device.

[The Posturomed is a therapeutic training device for improving sensorimotor skills. A stable two by two feet surface is suspended at its corners, allowing it to swing. When standing on this surface, it immediately reveals any instability by rocking at a high frequency but very low amplitude. With suitable add-on modules, it can also be used for specific leg strengthening workouts within closed kinetic chains. Due to its versatility and effectiveness, it is considered the best-known and most successful rehabilitation device in Germany and most other European countries. In the last decade very many Posturomed have even made it to Chinese hospitals and physiotherapy centers after the Chinese found out that it's a game changer in as well orthopaedic and sports physical therapy, especially since it operates without any electronics and is designed for absolute durability.]

Since I was convinced I had mastered this device to perfection, I directed Svenja straight to the Posturomed which was station number seven. There was a piece of paper with a lot of text stuck to the floor of the hall next to it. I silently read it to myself while signaling to Svenja with my hands that she should stay exactly where she was until she received further instructions from me.

Station 7:

"Have your patient get onto the Posturomed standing on her hands and knees, with her feet outside the suspended surface. After taking this position, have her raise her left leg backward and her right arm forward, each to a horizontal position, and try to maintain her balance with the two remaining contacts on the suspended surface for at least five seconds."

"Holy shit!" immediately went through my mind, and I had to really restrain myself from speaking this sentence out loud. Until now, I thought I'd already experienced everything one could possibly experience on this device. But I'd actually never been on it on all fours. I felt like I could practically hear the gears in my brain turning as I wondered how the hell this task would even be accomplished. Luckily, it occurred to me that Svenja probably wasn't familiar with the Posturomed at all, and that perhaps it would be a good starting point for solving the task if I first familiarized her with the device. Everything else would then perhaps follow naturally.

In fact, it took some effort at first to get Svenja to get down on the floor. Finally, I had her on all fours in front of the Posturomed. I managed to get her to lift one of her hands from the floor and place it on the surface of the Posturomed. I placed my own hand flat over the back of her hand and gently rocked the Posturomed to make it swing. This way, Svenja was able to get a feel for the device, on which she would soon have to maintain a quadrupedal position with my help.

After I stopped the swinging, I guided Svenja's hand to both sides of the platform, where I let her feel it's protruding suspensions. This gave her a rough idea of ​​the size of the area and hopefully imagine what kind of shaky surface she would soon be standing on.

Now came the most difficult part: climbing onto the device. The easiest thing would probably be for me to kneel on the Posturomed and crawl backward down one side while pulling Svenja forward with me. Before attempting this plan, however, I guided her hand up the handrail on one side and down the other to let her feel how much space was available under the railing for her to climb through.

Meticulously making sure to always touch Svenja with at least one hand, I now climbed onto the device myself, but immediately had to suppress a painful yelp when my kneecaps touched the hard surface. Of course, I hadn't thought of this at all, and it was clear that Svenja would certainly hurt herself too if I guided her knee joints onto this hard floor. Suddenly, I understood why there was a stack of folded towels next to the device. Of course, they were intended as padding to help her complete the task painlessly!

So I took two towels and placed them under my own knee joints, before placing two more towels on the two spots where Svenja would soon be resting her knees. I then placed my hands around Svenja's wrists and encouraged her to place first one hand and then the other on the Posturomed. To get her to also move her knees forward, I had to get off myself. First, I placed one hand on her back again to maintain physical contact. Then I peeled myself out of the device, switched hands, and knelt behind her.

Maybe I shouldn't have done that, because the sight of Svenja, crouching almost naked on all fours in front of me, distracted me so much from my task in a split second that I had to desperately try to calm myself down. My penis was pressing painfully against the fabric of my shorts. I realized I was on the verge of a panic attack myself and looked around desperately, where I could see my classmates struggling with their tasks. They seemed just as desperate to me, but for a different reason. Salvation came in the form of Petra, who was impatiently tugging at Leonie's arms, repeatedly pushing her against a high gymnastics box, and obviously trying to force her to climb over the box. The rough and awkward way she struggled with Leonie alone caused my cock to calm down somewhat in no time. I couldn't find a more unerotic sight than Petra in the entire gym, which was made even more apparent by the fact that she looked emaciated like an anorexic and had nothing feminine about her at all.

Okay, let's give it another try. This time I concentrated on keeping my eyes off Svenja's bottom while I got her to slide forward a good bit, first with one knee, then with the other. Luckily, Svenja quickly understood what I wanted from her. After I brought her hands a little further forward, I gave her a little push on her bottom, and she crawled onto the device on her own, where I immediately adjusted the folded towels under her knees. To make it less wobbly for her, I discreetly slowed the swinging platform of the Posturomed with my hand. Making her understand that her feet should stick out and hang in the air wasn't difficult either.

Now all I had to do was get her to stretch out her right arm and left leg. To do this, I knelt directly in front of her and placed a hand on her left hip and right shoulder. First, I stabbed her left leg with one hand, over her knee and down to her lower leg. Just feeling her soft, bare skin beneath my fingers was an incredibly beautiful, almost sensual experience for me. The stroking of my hand also had a clearly visible effect on Svenja, as I left goosebumps everywhere I touched her.

Although the Posturomed's handrail was a bit in the way, I somehow managed to get her to extend her left leg and eventually raise her right arm as well, without losing physical contact with her. Wordlessly, I counted the required five seconds before signaling with my hands that Svenja could put her leg and arm down again. We did it!

After Svenja was finally standing upright in front of me, I patted her shoulder in praise. Then I took her hands and stood in front of her so Ms. Gerber could see that we were ready for the next task. Without being able to see me, Svenja smiled at me, which made me feel an incredible connection to her. How I would have loved to look into her beautiful eyes and show her how proud I was of her for accepting my help so immediately and implementing it correctly.

Curiously, I let my gaze wander around the gym. It was interesting to observe how some of my classmates interacted with their partners with genuine sensitivity and empathy, while others seemed completely overwhelmed by the situation. Two couples had even dropped out altogether, including Petra with her "patient" Leonie, who looked quite annoyed, and Melanie with Daniela, who still had tears streaming down her face. Ms. Gerber was sitting next to her and had placed a comforting arm over her shoulder. When our eyes met, Ms. Gerber nodded at me approvingly. So, she seemed to have liked how I had completed the first exercise with Svenja.

It would be over two minutes before Ms. Gerber finally rang the bell and we could move on to the next station. For Svenja and me, this was the tall, multi-element gymnastics box, which Petra and Leonie had previously failed on. The box was at least four feet high, making it difficult to climb over without lifting Svenja. Curious to know exactly what the task would be, I read the instructions on the yellow piece of paper.

Station 8:

"Climb over the gymnastic box together with your patient. You may only guide your partner during the climb, but not assist her beyond that. You may only assist your partner during the descent from the gymnastic box. As a therapist, ensure that your patient does not fall off the gymnastic box or hurt herself!"

After reading the task, I wondered why Petra was so foolish in helping Leonie over the box. Anyone who had ever seen such a gymnastics box knew that the recessed grips on the sides of the individual elements could easily be used as ladders. Okay, the recesses might have been a bit small with sneakers on, but barefoot as we all were, they would have been perfectly usable. After all, the task didn't specify that we had to climb over the box's long side. So I led Svenja to one of the short sides of the box until she was standing directly in front of it. I guided her hands to the smooth leather-covered edges of the top and, with an appropriate handshake, indicated that she should hold on tight. After I guided Svenja's foot far enough to one of the recessed grips that she found a firm hold, the rest seemed obvious to her. With a few steps, she climbed onto the box and sat down on top, spreading one leg to the right and the other to the left over the edge of the box. I almost had trouble keeping physical contact with Svenja, as she climbed so quickly! Now I could also climb onto the box, holding onto Svenja's left iliac crest with one hand and her right thigh with the other as physical contact was called for!

In the background, I saw Leonie, who was watching us climb the box with interest and gave me a thumbs-up after I climbed over Svenja and sat down on the box opposite her, legs spread. I could clearly see Leonie arguing with Petra, gesticulating wildly, accusing her of not having thought of the idea of ​​using the recessed handholds as ladders.

Well, now we were both sitting opposite each other on the box, from which we now had to somehow get down. But here I was suddenly faced with another delicate problem. If you, dear reader, happen to be male and, what's more, not completely gay, you can perhaps imagine what would happen to you if an extremely pretty young girl, wearing only a semi-transparent thong, sat directly opposite you with her legs spread, and you placed your hands on the spread thighs of this extremely pretty young girl to maintain physical contact. Exactly! The same thing was happening to me at that moment. I had the most erection of my life!

In fact, the thin piece of fabric covering Svenja's vulva was so transparent that I could see that she had trimmed her pubic hair into a very narrow landing strip above her labia. The fine fabric also clung evenly to the contours of her pubic cleft, so that the vertical line was clearly visible through the fabric.

In the position I was sitting in on the box, at least no one could see my erection, except, of course, Svenja, if she had removed her blindfold. Once I reached the other side of the box, I would also have the best possible privacy, as the box would be directly in front of me and all my classmates would be standing on the other side of the box. Except for Svenja, of course. So I slowly pushed myself backward toward the far end of the box, keeping one of my hands on Svenja's thigh to guide her forward. At the end of the box, I pushed backward with one hand to land on both feet. This, of course, without losing contact with Svenja's thigh.

Now all that was left was to get Svenja down safely from the box, and I was already thinking about how best to guide her feet back to the handholds. While I was still thinking, I had both hands on Svenja's waist, not expecting her to take the initiative to get back to the gym floor. Before I could react appropriately, she had already bent forward, braced herself with her hands on my shoulders, and decided to take the rest of the way back with a brave leap into the unknown. After all, her eyes were blindfolded, so her contact with me was her only spatial orientation.

Instinctively, I grabbed Svenja's waist as she leaped toward me. However, I underestimated the impact of acceleration and gravity so much that Svenja almost knocked me over. The collision would certainly have been far less spectacular had Svenja opted for a classic gymnast-style dismount, with her legs together. However, since she took off from the widely spread position she had been in just moments before, her landing and flight also took place with her landing gear extended. In other words, Svenja hit my chest, slid down me, and caught her crotch on my fully erect cock! Svenja not only forgot to stretch out her legs for the landing, but she even clung to me with them! For seconds she sat on my cock with quivering nostrils, and I would have loved to know if she realized at that moment what was preventing her from slipping any further.

It almost felt as if time had stood still while Svenja was clinging to me. Was I imagining it, or was she actually rubbing herself against my cock? Oh my God, please don't let it happen again, I sent a mental prayer up to heaven. I almost had the impression that Svenja's pelvis was actually twitching for a moment, while at the same time she clung to me even tighter. I also saw how her breathing suddenly quickened, while her face, at least as far as I could see it from under the blindfold, twisted into a strange grimace. At that moment, it became clear to me that she must know very well how I was feeling. But why the hell didn't she finally let me go? How much longer was she going to hang on to my cock like a clingy monkey?

I couldn't help but feel that she was doing this with regret when Svenja finally removed her legs from me and put her feet on the floor. Since she was still clinging to my shoulders with her hands and I was still holding her waist, she slowly slid her vulva down over my cock, which rubbed its entire length against her labia during this action. Of course, it was mercilessly forced from the horizontal to the vertical. As soon as Svenja was on the floor, it straightened up again and pressed forcefully into her lower abdomen!

Under normal circumstances, we would both have been searching for some words to apologize to each other for the embarrassing situation. Of course, the imposed confidentiality prevented this. If I'd already had some sexual experience of my own with the opposite sex at that point, beyond my unplanned orgasm yesterday, I might have realized from Svenja's fully erect nipples and her heavy breathing that an apology wasn't necessary at all. But as it was, I suddenly felt guilty again, pushed away from her a little, and placed a hand on her cheek as a sort of apology.

Svenja reacted to this small gesture on my part quite differently than I expected. She also placed her hand on my cheek and smiled at me as if to say, "Apology accepted!" I think this was the moment I fell in love with Svenja!

Somehow I couldn't explain it to myself, but the butterflies I suddenly felt in my stomach quickly led to my sexual arousal dissipating, replaced by much deeper emotions and feelings for my partner. From one moment to the next, I felt a kind of protective instinct and a firm determination to guide Svenja successfully through the remaining stations. We both stood hand in hand in front of the gymnastics box we had just overcome, waiting for the bell that would lead us to our next task.

It actually took quite a while before the bell rang, as we were among the first to complete our tasks. This meant I could calmly observe the others solving their tasks, perhaps even picking up a hint or two that would help me later when I arrived at the respective station with Svenja. I quickly realized, however, that almost half the other couples at their station would probably never be able to solve the tasks, and so I was hardly surprised when the liberating gong suddenly sounded as Mrs. Gerber struck her felt hammer against the round brass piece. Shortly afterwards, Svenja and I found ourselves in front of a green exercise mat spread out on the floor.

Station 9:

"Get your partner to stand up from a prone position to a quadruped position and then back upright. Do not use any brute force."

My voluntary social year really came in handy when tackling this task. Right at the beginning of my voluntary service, a very skilled physiotherapist taught me how to help patients who were lying on the ground after a fall back on their feet. I was therefore confident that I would be able to get Svenja back on her feet in no time. Getting her to lie on her into the prone position turned out to be more difficult, but I managed this after a short time.

Once Svenja was finally lying face down on the mat, all I had to do was go through my well-practiced routine. So I knelt down next to her and guided her left leg into a wide-spread position with her knee bent. Only when she was lying there in front of me did I realize this was the same position in which she had knocked me off my feet yesterday during the massage. As far as her vulva was concerned, it was basically open house! Now that her most intimate parts were practically laid bare, I couldn't resist the temptation to sneak a peek between her spread thighs, even though I'd already had plenty of opportunity to do so a few minutes ago on the gymnastics box. The sight that now greeted me made me swallow hard. The small triangle of fabric between Svenja's thighs was clearly wet and, where the fabric had soaked up her juices, was almost as transparent as a shop window!

I practically had to force myself to look away, but I couldn't help noticing the delicate pink of the inner labia, gaping just like Nora's and Daniela's yesterday. I could already feel this sight beginning to send instructions to my cock, which it was already preparing to follow. Since yesterday, it had anyhow been leading a life of its own, having apparently decided to drag me from one embarrassing situation to the next!

In this situation, I decided to simply ignore my cock and recall the situation when I had to practice getting up from the floor in the facility for the disabled during my voluntary social year with a sprightly pensioner. What I still remembered very vividly was this woman's pungent bad breath. In fact, this memory quickly helped me achieve a relatively harmless cock size, allowing me to complete my act with Svenja without any unplanned embarrassment. So I knelt right next to Svenja's outstretched leg, leaning one of my legs against it from the outside, so that it would be secured against slipping sideways during the next step of the transfer to the quadruped position. Now all I had to do was slightly lift Svenja by her right pelvis and pull her towards me. As if by reflex, she then pulled her right leg under her body as well, so that now both legs were next to each other. Any halfway normal man would have taken advantage of this position to look between her legs again and get excited by her seemingly submissive posture and the display of her most intimate areas.

I consciously refrained from doing exactly that at that moment so as not to think about the old pensioner's bad breath again. Instead, I directed my gaze to Svenja's shoulders, where I pulled her backwards and upwards with a short impulse, so that she automatically supported herself on her arms. These tricks really had something to them! Now it was easy to guide her forward with her left foot after I had shifted her weight onto her right knee by applying pressure to her left hip and at the same time pulled her left leg forward. The only thing left for me to do now was to take hold of both her hands and pull her up towards me with another impulse. As expected, she understood this as an invitation to stand up under her own power.

From the moment I successfully fought off my developing erection, the whole operation essentially seemed to take only a blink of an eye. At the end, I was extremely proud when, after less than a minute, we stood in front of each other, hands clasped, waiting for the next bell, while the others were still desperately struggling to complete their tasks. Again, I caught a glimpse of Ms. Gerber's gaze, and again, I recognized it as appreciative approval.

At our next station, three rolled-up packages of exercise mats lay on the floor in front of us. One package contained two mats, the next three, and the last four. Accordingly, the rolls were of varying thickness. To prevent them from accidentally unrolling, the mat packages were secured with tension straps.

Station 10:

"Instruct your partner to stack the three rolls vertically on top of each other to form a pyramid-like tower."

Well, that shouldn't be too difficult, was my first thought. First, I pushed the three rolls next to each other with my feet so that I could let Svenja feel the different thicknesses of the rolls. To do this, I had Svenja kneel on the gym floor and touch the three rolls with her hands so she could feel their different diameters. Then I tried to place the largest of the three rolls vertically, which turned out to be a bit tricky, as I needed both hands for it. After all, I had to maintain physical contact somehow, even without a free hand to touch it with.

Even though I felt rather daring, I knelt directly behind Svenja, practically snuggling up to her. My nose was buried deep in her shoulder-length, dark-blonde hair. I couldn't help but inhale the intoxicating scent of her magnificent curls. I reached between her armpits with both arms to grab the thickest of the three mat rolls and place it vertically in front of her. This brought me very close to the back of her neck, so that the scent of her hair was now accompanied by an essence of fresh sweat and the body lotion that Svenja obviously used. My God, that girl smelled so good! I would have loved to bury my nose in the hollow of her collarbone and snuggle my cheek against her neck, but I refrained from this approach because doing so would have certainly crossed a red line.

When the thickest and heaviest of the three rolls was finally positioned vertically in front of Svenja, I unfortunately had to end my extensive physical contact to reach the second, slightly thinner roll. Holding Svenja by one hand, I stood up to pull this roll toward the first roll and also positioned it vertically next to it. Finally, I did the same with the third roll, so that in the end, all the rolls were close together.

Before we could continue, I first brought Svenja back to her feet so that she was now standing in front of the three rolls. To signal to her that I wanted to try to explain the task to her, I tapped her shoulder several times with my fingertip, took her right hand, and guided it to the top of the second-largest roll. I had her tap it several times in succession, then guided it to the top of the thick roll. I repeated this twice before taking both of her hands and guiding them around the middle roll so that she could easily grasp it. After she had grasped the roll with a secure grip, I placed my hands on hers and indicated that she should lift the roll.

A spontaneous smile spread across Svenja's face, as she obviously understood what I wanted from her. Without needing any further cue from me, she lifted the roll and guided it directly over the thickest of the three rolls. She almost accidentally knocked it over with her roll, but I managed to support it at the last moment until the two rolls were perfectly and stably positioned one above the other. Without me having to give her any further assistance, Svenja now felt for the thinner roll until she got a hold of it. While I supported the already half-finished tower with one hand, I placed the other hand on Svenja's shoulder to maintain physical contact. Fortunately, the smallest of the three rolls wasn't particularly heavy, so Svenja easily managed to integrate it into the structure as well, until finally the tall tower rose up in front of us, towering well above Svenja's head.

I felt an inner need to praise Svenja for completing the task perfectly, so I patted her on the shoulder in recognition before giving her a quick hug and pulling her close. I was thrilled that Svenja returned my hug and hugged me back. At the end, we stood holding hands at our station again, waiting for the next bell. It was just a shame that Svenja couldn't see that we were back among the first, while the others were still struggling at their stations. Only the couple at station 11 had already finished well ahead of us.

After what felt like minutes of waiting, the bell sounded again, before we finally found ourselves at the next station in front of the geometric building blocks.

Station 11:

"Get your partner to guide the building blocks through the matching holes in the wall," I read on the yellow sheet.

Finally, a truly easy task that didn't require any complicated explanation. After I let Svenja feel the wall with its differently shaped holes, I handed her one building block after another, which she successfully holed in in no time. My hand rested on her bottom the entire time, but very politely on the outside so no one would get the idea that I was trying to hole something myself.

After Svenja was finished, we had another long wait, standing opposite each other and holding hands. Svenja squeezed my hands several times, which I interpreted as a sign of appreciation and returned.

Station 12 wasn't particularly difficult either. Here, I had to get Svenja to balance on a balance pad for 10 seconds each, with her right and left legs in a one-legged stance. Thanks to the physical contact, I was able to support her somewhat in maintaining her balance, so this exercise also went quite well.

Stations 1 and 2 were both wooden benches, the kind commonly used in school gymnastics. One was right-side up and one was upside down. Here, the task was to have the blind partner walk foot to foot across the wide seat at Station 1 and the narrow wooden walkway at Station 2 from one end to the other. Since the process is self-explanatory, I'll spare you a detailed description here. Svenja certainly mastered the crossing of the two wooden training devices with flying colors!

Station 3 was a bit more tricky. Here you had to get your partner to do a kneeling position on a huge exercise ball with a diameter only little more than two feet.

Anyone who has tried this before will know that it's actually not that difficult once you've got the hang of what was involved. You need four contact points: both knees and the insteps of your feet. These must be supported on the ball at the greatest possible distance from each other. Once you were on top of the ball, you could prevent the ball from rolling away in any direction by shifting your weight between the four contact points. So much for the theory. But how do you explain this to a blind and deaf partner? The task was made more difficult by the fact that, according to the instructions on the yellow sheet of paper, you were only allowed to maintain physical contact with a single fingertip after you had assumed a kneeling position!

Attempting to get Svenja to kneel on the ball without knowing the exact task would probably have resulted in numerous falls. The prospect of repeatedly catching my half-naked partner and accidentally touching various parts of her body that were of interest to me seemed very tempting on the one hand, but not very productive on the other. So I decided to try something different: simply demonstrate the kneeling position on the exercise ball and let her feel me with her hands. Once Svenja understood what the task was about, the second step, getting her onto the ball herself, would no longer be a daunting task for me.

Getting up onto the ball was child's play for a former pole vaulter like me. Much more difficult was getting Svenja to understand that she had to feel me up without me falling off the ball trying to guide her hands. Please don't ask me how, but somehow I finally managed to get this across to her. What I hadn't anticipated, though, was how she would touch me. Her hands slid up my inner thighs several times. Even though she didn't even come close to my cock, the direction her fingers took was enough to remind me of yesterday morning and once again create a sturdy tent structure!

To avoid further unwanted physical contact with an unpredictable outcome, I decided to dismount from the ball prematurely. What Svenja had already experienced simply had to be enough, and as it turned out a little later, it was. When I took Svenja's hands while she was lying on her stomach on the ball and lifted her towards me and up above her, she pulled her legs underneath her body as if by magic, so all I had to do was straighten her up. After I was convinced that she was reasonably stable, I only had to decide where to touch her with a fingertip. Since she had a slight tendency to tip forward, I opted for her sternum, because there I could at least support her somewhat without attracting the possibly stern gaze of Mrs. Gerber. The disadvantage of the proximity of my finger to Svenja's breasts, however, was the additional motivation for my cock to settle even more firmly in a horizontal position!

At the next station, there was another task that probably wouldn't be quite as difficult to complete. Here, a challenge had to be overcome using a Pedalo, which had an extended pedal surface, meaning it was designed for two people. [In Germany, where this physically demanding vehicle is made, the Pedalo is not only used in therapy for children with sensorimotor deficits but also as a fun toy. Getting it moving requires a certain amount of dexterity and body control.] Curious about what the exact task would be, I read the instructions on the yellow sheet:

Station 4:

"Stand one behind the other on the Pedalo. The patient stands in front, the therapist behind her. Together, cover the entire length of the hall and then ride backwards back to the starting point."

Since I was still struggling with my erection, it was now even more important to get it under control as quickly as possible. After all, completing the task would inevitably require me to stand right behind Svenja, with my stiff cock being almost impossible to hide from her. Again, I tried to project animal carcasses, organic waste bin contents, and urine bags into my mind's eye, which had already been of little help yesterday in taming my cock. This time, however, the imaginary images of disgust really brought my penis to calm down a little, so that Svenja and I might actually fit one behind the other on the Pedalo's boards. Otherwise, the required physical contact would certainly have fallen under the 18+ category!

First, I wanted to introduce Svenja to the Pedalo. Unfortunately, it was a bit too heavy and unwieldy to pick up from the ground with just one hand. To still maintain physical contact, I took one of Svenja's hands and placed it on my shoulder so I could lift the vehicle with both hands and hold it out to her so she could explore it with her hands. She had probably already seen it before she was blindfolded anyway. In any case, she let me know with a smile and her thumb up that she was aware of what she would be confronted with in this new task.

Once the Pedalo was back on the ground, I aligned it in the correct direction and helped Svenja get on. With both hands on her shoulders, I stood behind her, and off we went. Luckily, I was considerably heavier than Svenja, so I was able to set the pace by shifting my weight alternately from one foot to the other, even when Svenja repeatedly lost her rhythm and put weight on the wrong foot. Unfortunately, as we rode forward, my gaze fell for a split second on Svenja's bouncing butt. My internal alarm bells immediately rang. The rational part of me told me to look elsewhere, but the voyeur part of me commanded me to fix my eyes on the erotic sight of the two bouncing ham halves and get aroused like a pubescent schoolboy! So guess which part of my split personality prevailed?

A quick glance at my cock would have immediately told you it was the peeping Tom! I couldn't for the life of me tear my gaze away from this spectacle of nature. What I would have given to have been able to enjoy this show quietly and secretly on video in a dark room, with one hand on my cock, all to myself! For any observer, whom I hoped at that moment didn't even exist, it must have looked hilarious as I arched my backside, desperately trying to keep the tip of my cock away from this steadily swaying object of desire! Luckily, at least half of my classmates were blindfolded. Everyone else should concentrate on their partner and not crane their necks around my erect penis! That left only Ms. Gerber, who I sincerely hoped at that moment would get more out of observing another couple than Svenja and me!

The punishment for the peeping Tom came swiftly when I managed to slow the Pedalo down just in time before it would have crashed unbraked into a wall bar attached to the gym wall. The trust that Svenja had rightly placed in my leadership up to that point would have been lost in an instant! Nevertheless, Svenja was so startled by the abrupt stop that she lost her balance for a moment and jerked her bottom in the direction of greatest danger: backwards! Believe me, the collision with the wall bars wouldn`t have been harder than with my equally hard cock suddenly finding itself deep between Svenja's buttocks! Only after a far too long moment of shock did I emerge from my state of shock and pull my wiener out of that yummy hot dog bun!

Under my hands, still resting on Svenja's shoulders, I felt the sudden change in texture, in the form of goosebumps suddenly sprouting from the previously supple, smooth skin. These quickly spread across Svenja's entire back. As there was a mirror right in front of us, I didn't miss the fact that the same change was also taking place on Svenja's front. But the change wasn't limited to Svenja's skin surface. Her nipples also swelled to several times their original size!

I took a deep breath and tried to somehow salvage the situation by simply focusing on the task at hand and starting the Pedalo again, now of course in the other direction. After all, we still had about fifty feet to go in reverse. Fortunately, Svenja quickly understood that we had to head back, and she actively supported me.

What she didn't support me at all, however, was my desperate attempt to keep kind of a security distance between the two of us. I almost got the impression that she was deliberately sticking her butt out backward, because there were repeated sudden touches between us that felt like sparks were flying. Accordingly, I was in a hurry to get off the Pedalo once we reached the starting point of the trip again. I almost pulled Svenja off with me on my descent when I jumped backward off the vihicle. Luckily, I managed to save her from falling at the last moment by catching her in my arms.

The only embarrassing thing about this was that she was now hanging on to me again, like a towel on a hook, just like after she jumped off the gymnastics box. Unfortunately, the hook here was my cock again! Why wouldn't she finally let me go? Why was she still hanging on to me as if she wanted to rip her own stomach open with my cock? Of course, this had the advantage that my erection remained hidden from the rest of the girls. Nevertheless, I had to get my penis away from Svenja as quickly as possible if I wanted to avoid a repeat of yesterday's mishap. I was already imagining what the others would think of me if I ejaculated in the middle of class on two consecutive days. My reputation would probably be cemented once and for all! Perhaps the school administration would even hang a bronze plaque to remind future generations of Patrick, the physiotherapy student with no dick control?

Just when I'd given up hope of rescue, I suddenly heard a loud scream behind me. Barbara had twisted her ankle on the balance pad and fallen onto her partner, so that both of them were now rolling around on the ground, laughing. At least she hadn't hurt herself in her fall, but fortunately, the loud scream caused Svenja to let go of me in shock, and little Patrick also calmed down a bit with the distraction. Now just one more deep breath before Svenja and I headed to the next station, the crawl tunnel!

Station 5:

"Crawl through the tunnel tube together with your partner. Make sure you don't lose physical contact with your partner while in the tube. Therefore, let your partner go first."

Once again, a seemingly easy task, I was pleased to see. The crawl tunnel was made of thin, red synthetic fabric, through which a black band ran in a spiral shape, concealing the metal spiral that gave the tunnel its structure. I estimated the length of the tunnel to be at least fifteen feet, much longer than the ones everybody knows from IKEA. Unfortunately, this task also had a catch: halfway through, the crawl tunnel was wrapped in ribbons that significantly narrowed the passage at that point, making it impossible to simply slip through.

After I had directed Svenja onto all fours in front of the entrance to the tube and had her feel the obstacle she had to overcome with her hands, she didn't need any further explanation to understand the task. Hands first, she crawled into the cave, having to get down on her elbows. With her buttocks in the air, she crouched right in front of me because I had to maintain physical contact, which in this case was easiest achieved by grabbing her ankles.

The sight of Svenja on all fours could have been a sequence from a better porn video! The small piece of fabric of her thong between her legs was no longer wet, but so soaked that her juices were already running down her inner thighs, where they glistened wetly and gave off a completely unfamiliar, yet all the more intoxicating scent. I couldn't get the scent out of my nose and felt as if it were affecting my already completely erect penis with me having taken two or three extra Viagra pills! How could I possibly survive this sight and this aphrodisiac scent unscathed?

I didn't have much time to think about it, because I had to crawl after Svenja, who was already up to her waist in the tube, whether I wanted to or not. And let's be honest? At that moment, I wanted nothing more than that, because the sweet scent emitted by her pussy attracted me like a moth to a flame. If we had been alone now, without any spectators, I probably wouldn't have been able to control my urges and would have pounced on her!

Slowly, Svenja crawled deeper and deeper into the tube, so that I too had to get down on my elbows to squeeze through the narrow entrance. This wasn't exactly easy, as I was still holding Svenja by her ankles and therefore had to keep crawling forward if I didn't want to lose her. We were both barely in the tube when the concentration of her love scent in the already scarce air supply inside the tube increased several times over. Suddenly, progress was very slow as Svenja laboriously tried to squeeze through the narrow passage. I was almost shocked at myself when my desire for her scent made me forget all restraint and I released my grip on her ankles to slide my hands up her thighs until my nose was only a few inches from her soaked thong.

The light from the gym's ceiling was bathed in an erotic red through the fabric of the crawl tunnel, but the brightness was still sufficient for me to see Svenja's wide-open vulva lips almost pin-sharply through the sheer fabric. Dream images formed before my inner eye, in which I saw myself inside a vagina. The walls of the tunnel suddenly became the moist walls of the pleasure canal, which drew me ever deeper. My natural sex drive had long since overcome all restraint and my reason and taken control of my instinctual actions. Although a small shred of civilized decency still prevented me from ripping Svenja's thong off and wrapping my lips around her wet pussy, I could no longer fight off the satisfaction of my most primal needs.

Only a single desire fueled my otherwise will-less soul. I wanted—no, I had to release the pressure immediately, had to jerk off this very moment! When, if not now in this cave, where no one could discover me carrying out my daring plan? No sooner had this thought sprouted in my brain, fogged by Svenja's pheromones, than my hand was already in my pants. I gripped the end of my cock firmly. It hadn't even taken me half a dozen pumping movements before my creamy semen poured into my cupped hand. His masculine scent dominated Svenja's feminine scent for a moment, so that I slowly began to think more clearly again.

As soon as I had ejaculated, a part of my mind kicked in again, telling me that it probably wouldn't be wise to leave the crawl tunnel soiled with my semen. The couple following behind us certainly wouldn't be amused if they got covered in my ejaculate! Likewise, it wouldn't be strategically wise to emerge from the crawl tunnel at the end with my boxers completely soaked. The only quick, practical solution was to bring my handful of semen to my mouth without spilling it and to dispose of all the liquid as discreetly as possible. This solution to my delicate problem was made easier by the fact that Svenja wasn't making particularly good progress at the moment, as she still hadn't escaped the bottleneck.

Drinking my own semen hadn't been a problem for me for a long time. Being a little younger, I discovered it was the most effective way to cover up any traces. It allowed me to prevent my mother from getting her hands on entire loads of dirty bedsheets and pajama pants, which would otherwise have revealed my almost pathological masturbation. In such nighttime situations, however, I could calmly clean up any splashes of semen, whereas here I had to move really quickly. So it wasn't entirely possible to prevent some of my semen from dripping from my hand and getting caught in the fabric of the crawl tunnel. I managed to swallow most of it, though, so all I had to do was lick my hand somewhat clean and wipe my spit-wet hand on the tunnel tube. I had barely managed this when things started moving again in front of me. I managed to grab Svenja's feet just in time before the physical contact was broken. With the good feeling that I no longer had to hide a fully developed erection, I emerged from the crawl tunnel a few moments later with a relieved expression on my face!

It felt incredibly liberating to no longer have to worry that yesterday's mishap could repeat itself at any moment. For the moment, the immense pressure was relieved, and that was a good thing. Still, it was a strange feeling to be standing in a gym with twenty-three scantily clad girls, while simultaneously having the aroma of my own semen in my mouth. I discreetly looked down to see if I hadn't missed any splatters sticking to me. Luckily, I found nothing, and there were no telltale traces on my boxers either. I didn't expect any more to come, since I had foresightedly squeezed everything out of my urethra that would otherwise have leaked out on its own.

Svenja and I held hands again and stood facing each other, waiting. Would Svenja hold my hand just as relaxed if she knew that I had just jerked off with it a few moments ago? Since my back was to the others, I could finally take the opportunity to examine her body for the first time in peace, without anyone noticing. In addition to her flawless breasts, I was particularly fascinated by the curve of her feminine hips, which flowed into a slim waist. At the same level, a beautiful navel drew my gaze like a magnet. Whoever had cut her umbilical cord at birth must have been a master of their craft!

As I looked down at her, Svenja's brightly painted toenails caught my eye. On her slender ankles, the imprints of my own fingers were still visible in the form of light, reddish welts. Had I really gripped her so tightly? I was almost ashamed of my obvious lack of control. However, there was nothing in Svenja's features that would have indicated any discomfort on her part. Quite the opposite. She looked at me with a gentle smile. At least, I assumed she was looking at me, even though she was blindfolded. I was incredibly tempted to press a kiss on her sweet lips at that moment. Of course, I suppressed this inner urge, but I sincerely hoped that perhaps a suitable opportunity would arise sooner or later.

I turned my gaze downward again, wandering from her ankles up her slender legs. There was a very peculiar charm to being able to observe this sweet girl, no, this desirable woman, in peace and quiet without her even noticing. It was obvious that she exercised regularly. The defined calves and the pronounced muscles of her inner knee extensors were clear proof to me that she had to be involved in some kind of sport with a very high explosive strength component. After all, no one develops such a vastus medialis on their own. I could imagine something like sprinting, long jumping, or soccer, because I couldn't see any particularly well-developed muscles in her shoulder girdle area.

I decided to simply ask Svenja at the next opportunity. Perhaps this would even provide an opportunity for a more personal conversation, beyond our shared training? Would it go down well with her if I praised her beautiful legs, then used this hook to bring the conversation back to her athletic interests? What I would have given at that moment to have more experience in how to approach girls properly without appearing too clumsy.

The bell sounded, tearing me from my thoughts. The last station was approaching, which led Svenja and me to a large blue soft mat.

Station 6:

"If you can get your partner to fall backward onto the mat like a felled tree, you have passed this task. Remember to maintain physical contact here as well."

Oh dear, how is that supposed to work? If Svenja actually just fell over, I'd lose contact with her immediately, wouldn't I? I'd have to fall over too if I wanted to maintain it. Exactly, why not? After all, there was nothing in the task that said I couldn't fall over too. I wonder if that would work out?

First of all, I stepped onto the soft floor with Svenja, which naturally gave way under our weight, allowing our feet to sink deep into the yielding material. I immediately felt in my element, since the pole vault also lands on a very yielding, but much softer, mat. With both hands, I guided Svenja across the entire surface of the unstable surface, always along the outer edge so she could get a feel for the size of the mat. Perhaps she would be less hesitant about simply falling over if she knew how big the surface was.

After we had completed two laps along the outer edge of the mat, I stopped with Svenja and turned her back to the center of the mat. Standing there, I guided her forward a bit, making her feel the edge of the mat with her toes. For a brief moment she lost her balance and stumbled slightly forward. With my hand on her stomach, I immediately pulled her back so that she was standing securely with both feet on the blue surface again. Now she knew the mat was right behind her back.

Svenja stood to my left. To prevent her from losing her body tension when she fell onto the mat, so that she would actually fall over like a felled tree, I placed my left hand on her sacrum. Her bottom, which I naturally also touched, felt miraculously firm and yet simultaneously buttery soft under my fingers. Only six more days, and I would be able to massage this miracle of nature, to work my way through all its layers with my fingers! My thoughts of revenge for the painful use of her elbow had long since been replaced by a desire for a tender touch of her body. I could clearly feel the delicate interplay of its muscles beneath my fingers, as Svenja naturally worked with her entire body to maintain her balance on the soft, yielding mat.

I placed my right hand on Svenja's sternum so that I could now use two hands to signal to her that she absolutely had to maintain her stretched-out posture. I couldn't prevent the heel of my hand from resting on the firm flesh of one of her breasts. Okay, I admit it. Of course, I could have prevented this, but I just couldn't resist seizing the opportunity!

So I stood with Svenja at the edge of the mat for quite a while, waiting for the most opportune moment to fall over with her. If her chest hadn't pressed harder against my hand with each breath she took, I would have given the impulse to fall over long ago. Instead, I simply enjoyed the wonderful feeling beneath my hands and delayed the impulse over and over again. Just three more breaths, and I would initiate the fall over, I told myself. Okay, actually, it took more than ten breaths before we finally landed softly on the mat. Who knows when the next opportunity would arise to get my fingers so close to a breast and an ass at the same time like that!

The shared experience somehow had a bonding effect, and at the end, we lay on the mat, laughing in each other's arms. I couldn't even tell whether the spontaneous hug was initiated by me or Svenja. Unfortunately, shortly afterward, the gong sounded several times, signaling the end of the experiment. I would have loved to lie on the mat in Svenja's arms a little longer!

"Now, ladies, you may remove your patients' blindfolds and return them to me. Please place the earplugs in the dish with the disinfectant solution on the windowsill. When you're ready, you can get dressed again and then put all the exercise equipment away. If you don't know where to put these things, just ask me."

Immediately, a general commotion erupted. Many of the "patients" spontaneously began to share their experiences with each other, but were immediately admonished to remain quiet by Ms. Gerber, who explained that the ban on speaking would only end when all exercise equipment had been put away and the semester had gathered in the middle of the gym.

It took quite a while until everyone was dressed again and all the equipment was put away. Things didn't really get moving until Ms. Gerber pointed out that it was our break, after all, and we were wasting away.

"So, since you've actually managed to get dressed and tidy up before sunset, I'd like to ask you all to sit down on the red circle with your partner."

As Ms. Gerber requested, we formed a circle on the gym floor, each next to the partner with whom we had completed the twelve exercises. Ms. Gerber stood in the middle of the circle and looked down at the group before joining us on the floor.

"The lesson you just experienced", Ms. Gerber addressed us again, "was hopefully very instructive for you. For most of the therapists among you, it was probably the first time they had to take responsibility for someone entrusted to their care, apart from occasional babysitting. Some of you may have noticed that they felt overwhelmed by the tasks assigned to them, while others truly exceeded their own expectations and perhaps even discovered abilities in themselves that they had never known existed. For the patients among you, it must have been a completely new experience to have to solve complex tasks without the ability to perceive them with all of their senses."

Ms. Gerber paused to let her words sink in before she continued.

"I would like all of you girls to sit behind their patients now. Excuse me, Mr. Lehmann, and of course you too."

As requested by Ms. Gerber, we changed our seating position and sat one behind the other.

"Okay, let's start with you, Ms. Meininger. You obviously weren't feeling well. Would you like to briefly tell us how you've been doing?"

Daniela's eyes were still quite red from all the crying. You could see that she wasn't comfortable talking about her experience.

"Well, I don't know how to put this. It was a bit strange having my eyes blindfolded. But I found the earplugs in my ears much worse, because with them, I suddenly couldn't hear anything around me. When Melanie took me by the hand and pulled me behind her, one of you," she looked around, "ran right into me, so I crashed into the large wooden box and stumbled to the floor. When I was lying there, several of you stepped on me, and I just panicked."

Ms. Gerber, who was sitting next to Daniela, nodded, concerned, and placed a hand on her shoulder in understanding. "I think any of you would have panicked in that situation, and I'm glad you're feeling better now, Ms. Meininger. You're feeling better, aren't you?"

Daniela nodded and forced a faint smile.

"Your colleague's example shows," Ms. Gerber continued, "how important it is for you, as a therapist, to take full responsibility for your patient and proactively monitor all potential dangers and try to avoid them, no matter what the cost. It really cannot be acceptable for you to simply drag a blind and deaf patient along by the hand like a person without a disability and not notice the problems your patient is dealing with behind your back." As she spoke, she looked intently at Melanie, who was visibly dejected.

Melanie, however, demonstrated true greatness by hugging Daniela, who was sitting in front of her, pulling her towards her, tenderly stroking her head, and profusely apologizing for her failed role as therapist. With this, Melanie definitely had everyone in the semester's sympathy on her side.

"Ms. Enderle, how did you perceive your role as a patient?"

"Well, what can I say? I only saw one station. Petra kept pushing me violently against the tall wooden box and grabbing my butt. I had no idea what she wanted from me when she kept pushing me against the box until she was completely exasperated and refused to continue. She also..."

Petra interrupted her, angrily. "But you should have just climbed over the box, but you just didn't want to understand it with your limited brain..."

"Mrs. Wendeling, would you PLEASE moderate your tone towards your classmate!"

"Oh, but it's true! If that chick hadn't acted so stupidly and used her head for just a moment, she would have gotten over that damn box within seconds. But daddy's darling really seemed intellectually overwhelmed by the simplest issue!"

"MISS WENDELING!"

"But how am I supposed to know that I'm supposed to climb over the box if you just keep pushing me violently against it? Maybe you should take a leaf out of Pax's book. He was the one who switched on his brain and then got Svenja over the box without any problems."

"Yeah, if you bitch are simply to stupid to react to my signals!"

"Who was being so stupid here?" Leonie was now really angry and pointedly moved away from Petra.

"Well, definitely not me!"

"Okay, that's enough now, Ms. Wendeling! Would you behave the same way towards a disabled patient? Perhaps you should put yourself in your partner's shoes, who could neither see nor hear anything of her surroundings. Don't you think it would have been better if you had assisted your partner more gently and understandingly instead of..."

"Oh, should I be gentle now too and even reward that stupid bitch for acting like a complete idiot? After all, I..."

"Wait a minute, Ms. Wendeling. I HAVEN'T finished my sentence yet, and I'm NOT used to being interrupted! Since you apparently find it difficult to accept criticism, I would suggest that you..."

"I DON'T find it difficult to accept criticism at all! I just don't see why I should be blamed just because that stupid cow," pointing at Leonie, "doesn't want to understand that she's supposed to get over that damn box! Besides, I am..."

"Okay, that's really the end of it, Ms. Wendeling. I'd like you to come to my office later after lunch for a private word. Is that clear?"

"GUESS WHAT! YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR FUCKING PHYSIOTHERAPY SCHOOL UP YOUR ASS!" Petra yelled angrily at Ms. Gerber as she jumped up from the floor, grabbed her bag, and ran toward the door, snorting with rage. "If everyone here thinks they have to blame me for everything, then you can all go to hell! You can continue your SHITTY physiotherapy training as long as you want, but I'm stopping because this crap is way beneath me! You'll definitely never see me here again! I'd rather study medicine, and then I can tell you all what to do, and you'll have to do what I write on the prescriptions for the patients," she yelled at us before turning her back on us and running toward the exit.

"The way you are, they'll only let you work on dead patients in the forensic department anyway," Leonie called after her.

"And besides, you only got your training position here because your high school diploma is too bad for medicine and your dad, a senior physician in orthopedics, used his connections for you!" Nora added.

We all knew that some training positions were awarded under the table because someone here exerted their influence or simply knew the right persons. We all knew that Petra's father was a senior physician at the university hospital. After all, Petra emphasized this at every opportunity, under the false assumption that she would be admired or even respected more because of it.

If Petra's looks could have killed, we could have ordered the hearse for Leonie and Nora by now. But as it was, the "Petra" chapter ended for all of us without bloodshed the moment the door slammed shut behind her. No one shed a tear for her, but almost everyone shook their heads after she disappeared.

Perhaps, so that you, dear reader, can also put this topic to rest, I should anticipate what happened to Petra after she had quit the physiotherapy training. After a long wait, during which she was a burden on her parents, she actually got a place to study medicine at the University of Greifswald. However, she failed the examination after fourth semester twice and was therefore knocked out of the university. Afterwards, she began studying to become a teacher somewhere in southern Germany. If you ask me, it's the ideal career for someone who considers herself infallible. What became of her is beyond my knowledge, or rather, I'm not really interested. But now, on with the text!

"So, now that we've hopefully all calmed down, perhaps we can continue. Maybe we can still manage to finish before the break. Ms. Petersen, how did you feel in your role as a patient?"

Before Svenja began her story, she turned to me and gave me an incredibly loving look that warmed my heart. As she spoke, she placed a hand on my knee. I think if she had also leaned against me, I would have been the happiest person in the world!

"Well, at the beginning, I was really scared. When you suddenly can't see or hear anything at all, you're really lost without help. But Pax always gave me the feeling that he was looking out for me. I found all the tasks easy because Pax gave me really great support. I also found it incredibly calming that I always felt his hand on my body. I would never have believed how calming it is to always feel someone touching you and haveing you feel that he really cares. In any case, what I'm taking away from this exercise is that I'll definitely be able to empathize more easily with patients with physical disabilities or perceptual disorders in the future."

"Very good, Ms. Petersen. I think you've addressed the most important message you can take home from this session. I hope some of the other patients were able to have this experience as well."

Svenja's words still echoed in my head. I couldn't remember anyone ever speaking so lovingly about me. Again, I felt myself blush, only this time it wasn't with shame, but with pride at how protected Svenja had felt in my care. After cumming all over her forearm yesterday, I would have expected anything, but certainly not such a hymn of praise. Now I hadn't just a few butterflies in my stomach, but whole swarms! I suddenly felt the need to take Svenja in my arms and pull her close to me, but I didn't dare to do so. I was slowly beginning to believe that something serious might actually develop between Svenja and me.

"Ms. Henkel, would you like to tell us how things have been for you as a patient?"

Gabi turned to Frederike, who was sitting behind her, and mock-headbutted her, causing both of them to burst out laughing. Those sitting around them also joined in the fun, until Mrs. Gerber raised both hands and, with a gesture of silence, actually calmed them down.

"Well, at the beginning, Frederike really drove me to despair. Right during the first exercise, she simply pushed me onto the soft mat, so I thought I was in the wrong

movie. I banged my knee on the wobbly device with the railing, but after that, it went like clockwork, and Frederike got better and better at her job."

"It wasn't that difficult. I had Pax and Svenja in front of me the whole time, and all I had to do was watch Pax guide Svenja through the tasks and then do the same with you!"

Another praise of me, I thought to myself, noticing the languishing look Frederike blatantly gave me. This could get interesting! Back in school, I was always the one who couldn't get the girls because I was always so shy and blushed at every opportunity. Here, everything was suddenly completely different. Nora had also sent me some very clear positive signals on the way to the gym as well as Frederike. It slowly dawned on me that aspiring physiotherapists really seemed to be cut from a completely different cloth than the girls I'd dealt with in my life so far. Okay, maybe with the exception of Petra, but thankfully she was history now.

During the last few minutes, Mrs. Gerber had repeatedly glanced at the clock, discreetly but unmistakably, and now closed the notebook in which she had repeatedly taken notes.

"Well, my dears, we still have a few patients who haven't been able to tell us about their impressions yet. But knowing Ms. Kelly, she wouldn't be amused if you were late for her class. Please make sure you don't leave anything behind in the gym. After you, the final semester here will have a teaching practice under exam conditions, and I don't want any of you barging in because you forgot something. In any case, I hope you all learned something in this lesson that you can use for your future as physiotherapists, and I wish you a nice day."

Ms. Gerber nodded friendly to all of us as we stood up and grabbed our things. In fact, I had the impression that I had truly learned something important in this lesson, and by that, I don't mean that it's fun to unnoticed jerk off in the middle of class. No, I definitely didn't want this to become a daily routine, because I simply didn't have the exhibitionistic inclination to orgasm once a day in class. Rather, I had a vague feeling that in the not-too-distant future, I would experience one or two orgasms outside of class, even without having to do it on my own!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next lesson was in physiotherapy in internal medicine, or "PT-Internal" for short, in Building C, a building complex newly built just a few years ago. This complex housed the University Hospital's physiotherapy school and occupational therapy school. The physiotherapy school's rooms were on the first floor, and those of the occupational therapy school on the second.

Ms. Kelly was already waiting for us and had just finished distributing the next few pages of her script on the massage tables, which served as desks during the theoretical lessons. Ms. Kelly's script was truly helpful, as it guided us chronologically through the entire three year training and taught everything in the area of ​​physiotherapy in internal medicine that one usually had to learn from textbooks in other subjects. With Ms. Kelly, however, no textbooks were necessary, as she made it clear right at the beginning of the training that everything that would be tested in the final examination in her subject at the end of the training would be found in the script. To prevent some particularly overzealous students from working on upcoming chapters at home and showing off their knowledge, she only handed out her script in individual sheets. She repeatedly emphasized that it was important to her that we actually understand the content and not just read it. Therefore, she strictly adhered to her own script in her classes.

Malicious tongues from the higher semesters claimed that Ms. Kelly would be completely lost if she ever lost her own script. Still others from the higher semesters warned us that we could already look forward to many free periods with Ms. Kelly, because she regularly suffered from her favorite ailment, "autonomic dysregulation." Even more malicious tongues said that Ms. Kelly suffered from autonomic dysregulation especially when she was once again turned down by a doctor she had tried to approach. The most malicious tongues even claimed that, in Ms. Kelly's case, autonomic dysregulation was nothing more than a sexually depressed panic attack on the way to her imminent forty.

In fact, Ms. Kelly always dressed up to the nines and wore absurdly bright lipstick when she was out supervising the physiotherapy students assigned there during their internship. No doctor without a ring on their finger was safe from her. Whenever she had the opportunity, she ambushed the obviously unmarried doctors in order to engage them in what was supposedly a very important conversation about the patients assigned to the interns under her supervision. Word had long since gotten around in the internal medicine department that she always left a particularly large number of buttons on her doctor's coat open. She liked to wear it to distinguish herself from what she considered the inferior class of less qualified nurses. However, Ms. Kelly's ploy didn't work at all with the doctors, as her pushy manner got on their nerves rather than showing them any interest in her feminine charms. As far as her feminine charms were concerned, what stood out most was her very wide buttocks, which was relatively large for her height. Otherwise, her figure was relatively difficult to judge. Her rather large but noticeably sagging breasts, as well as her somewhat stocky figure, were only vaguely apparent, as one practically only saw Ms. Kelly in overly baggy doctor's coats, with which she tried more or less skillfully to conceal her physical features.

Whatever one might think of Ms. Kelly, I considered her to be a very good and competent subject teacher, as long as she wasn't absent due to illness. Like few others, she knew how to get us really up to speed in the subject she taught and also prepare us for our future careers with good tips and advice.

"Good afternoon, dear first semester," she greeted us after we had all found a seat behind the rows of azure-blue massage tables. "I hope you're still able to absorb some new information before lunch?"

A murmur of approval went through the rows after we returned her greeting. Only now did a few stragglers trickle in. As usual, Tabea and Saskia were there, checking their cell phones at every opportunity and therefore regularly having to run to the bathroom during class.

"So, since you're all probably looking forward to applying the knowledge you acquired last week to real patients for the first time during your internship, today we'll be looking at how to document your treatment results in your patient charts."

Ms. Kelly paused briefly and looked around until she clearly found what, or rather, who, she was looking for.

"Ms. Reinheimer, please come to the front of the class with me at the blackboard."

Inka looked a bit concerned, as if she'd been caught doing something and was about to be punished. Hesitantly, she stood up and made her way to the front.

"Come on, don't worry, I don't bite!" Ms. Kelly urged Inka to hurry up. After Inka finally stood next to her in front of the whiteboard, she pressed a marker into her hand.

"So, Ms. Reinheimer, imagine you have just finished treating a patient who had undergone total resection of the medial meniscus and would like to document the results of your treatment in the patient's chart. Your patient, Mr. Smith, was very motivated during the treatment, cooperated well, and can now bend his knee to 90° and can now extend his joint freely. Please write on the board how you would record this in the patient's chart!"

Inka was pleased with the seemingly easy task and immediately began writing:

"Mr. Smith participated very well in my physiotherapy treatment today and can now bend his knee to 90° and fully extend it."

"Thank you, Ms. Reinheimer, you're welcome to sit down again. What do the others think? Is this entry in the patient file okay?"

We already suspected that the entry might not be okay, but we didn't know what Ms. Kelly was getting at. In any case, no one dared to answer her question.

"So since none of you have any objections to this entry, can I assume that you would all document the treatment in this or a similar way?"

After none of us responded again, Ms. Kelly held up a densely written patient's chart.

"What you see here is the file card of a patient with total resection of the medial meniscus. This file card contains entries from the operating physician, the anesthesist, the doctor on duty in the recovery room, the ward physician, the nursing staff, and the laboratory. Patients at our clinic typically receive two to three sessions of physiotherapy for this operation before being discharged home. You must document all treatments in the file card. Do you think it makes sense to immortalize yourself with such long texts given the limited space available?"

Awkward silence. Still, none of us dared to say anything. We all preferred to wait and see what Ms. Kelly was getting at.

"Let's look at Ms. Reinheimer's report point by point. The fact that the patient is Mr. Smith and not Mr. Meier or Mr. McKenzie is already stated on the outside of the file card, right?"

Since we more or less all nodded in agreement, Mrs. Kelly crossed out the patient's name, making the text a bit shorter:

"He participated very well in my physiotherapy treatment today and can now bend his knee to 90° and fully extend it."

"The date stamp on the file card already indicates the day the treatment took place, right?"

Since we didn't object, Ms. Kelly deleted the word "today" as well, shrinking the report even further:

"He participated very well in my physiotherapy treatment and can now bend his knee to 90° and fully extend it."

"I think we're all clear that Ms. Reinheimer and Mr. Smith undertook a physiotherapy treatment and not a deep-sea dive, right?"

Again, we all agreed, so Ms. Kelly deleted the "physiotherapy treatment" part.

"He cooperated very well and can now bend his knee to 90° and fully extend it." was now all that was left on the whiteboard.

"Do you agree with me that all those involved in Mr. Smith's treatment know that it's her knee and not her elbow that's causing him to be in the hospital?"

After we agreed to this as well, she crossed out the next words.

"He cooperated very well and can now bend to 90° and fully extend." was the remaining entry in the patient file card.

"We're slowly getting closer to the core message of the report, but it's still far too long. Does anyone have any ideas on how we could shorten the report even further? Yes, Ms. Lenz?"

"For example, we could simply leave out the words very well" suggested Angelika.

"Yes, that would be an option too. But it could be even better. Does anyone have any other good suggestions?"

Ms. Kelly looked at each of us in turn, but no further suggestions came from us.

"Very well, then I'll show you how you can reduce the core message of the report to the bare essentials."

We watched curiously as Ms. Kelly completely erased Inka's report from the board and instead wrote "Compliance ++ / 0-0-90" on the whiteboard, which we couldn't really do much with. Ms. Kelly, of course, wasn't particularly surprised by our questioning expressions.

"I hope Ms. Hochheimer (the specialist instructor for physiotherapy in orthopedics, or "PT-Ortho" for short) won't mind me for having already mentioned the written documentation of joint mobility according to the neutral-zero method. You will learn more about this in your class this week, so I won't go into it any further now. I just wanted to show you an example of a particularly short report text that is absolutely sufficient for documentation. Be sure to remember the term compliance. This generally describes the patient's willingness to cooperate in their treatment. By using the appropriate number of plus or minus signs, you provide the ward physician with a sufficiently precise indication of the degree of compliance on the file card. Up to three plus or minus signs have become common practice at our university hospital. It is important that you keep your report as brief as possible and avoid any embellishments or superfluous filler words. Please think about the fact that you only have 30 minutes per patient so as you will have to write your treatment documentation within this time, it should be as brief and concise as possible."

Svenja spoke up in the row in front of me. "Yes, Ms. Petersen? What would you like to know?"

"Well, I always thought we only had a maximum of 20 minutes per treatment. My boyfriend's mother runs a physiotherapy practice, where most patients are scheduled every 20 minutes."

"Yes, you're absolutely right. In fact, the average treatment time in a physiotherapy practice is 20 minutes, including documentation and everything that goes with it. There are even practices that calculate with only 15 minutes because that's the prescribed minimum treatment time which is paid for by the patient's health insurance company. But the average time is more like 20 minutes."

"But there's also a practice in our village where appointments always last 30 minutes", Katja chimed in.

"Yes, you may be right, Ms. Striebenow. Such practices do indeed exist, but they are usually mini-practices with no employees and no modern equipment, and often even without any additional qualifications such as manual therapy or physiotherapy-neurotherapy. Sometimes these practices are even run as a sideline in one's own home. With a small room, a wall bar, and a massage table, one could already start one's own practice in the past, and some of these practices still exist today. However, with today's health insurance requirements, this no longer works, because all the space, the required ongoing training, and modern equipment have to be financed by something. If someone still spends 30 minutes on a physicotherapy treatment these days, there can be various reasons for this, with business incompetence and the helper syndrome probably being the most common. However, there are also individual therapy methods that actually require longer treatment times, but which are also better paid, especially since they require additional post graduate training. For standard physio sessions however, 20 minutes is the norm, and for massage, even only 15 minutes."

"So why do we have 30 minutes per treatment during our internship starting next week?" Nora wanted to know.

A broad grin spread across Ms. Kelly's face. "As long as you're training with us, you'll enjoy what we call puppy protection. Once you start working in the wild, you'll have to get used to shorter treatment intervals. But this shouldn't be a problem until then. If you're adept at your craft, 20 minutes should usually be sufficient. For physiotherapists without the appropriate level of expertise that our graduates typically achieve, even 30 minutes of treatment time can be a complete waste of time from the patient's perspective."

Ms. Kelly's reference to the protection of puppies had caused a general hilarity throughout the semester. Only I had completely lost my sense of humor. In fact, the entire subsequent discussion about the pros and cons of longer or shorter treatment intervals passed me by, just like the rest of Ms. Kelly's lesson. But one thing stuck with me, like a dark storm cloud looming over my head that just wouldn't move: Svenja had a boyfriend!

I was so pissed off that even at lunch in the cafeteria, I just listlessly poked around in my food and couldn't get a bite down. While my classmates were animatedly discussing Petra's dramatic exit, all I wanted to do was go home and pull the covers over my head. How could I have been so naive as to imagine Svenja didn't have a steady boyfriend? Especially Svenja, by far the sweetest girl of the semester, with her doe-brown eyes that made you feel like you could sink into them forever and her feminine figure that other women would sell their souls for. And this girl, of all people, shouldn't have a boyfriend or, even more absurd, could fall in love with me?

Only a few more minutes and we would have to leave. The next class, physiotherapy in gynecology (you probably already guessed: "PT-Gyn" for short), would be held almost half a mile away in the old lecture hall of the gynecology clinic. Afterward, we had to walk all the way back to sit through the last double lesson of the day in some other subject I didn't even care what it was. I actually debated for a moment whether I should just skip class, but immediately dismissed the idea because I didn't want to ruin my training just because of my frustration with Svenja having a boyfriend. Especially in the first few weeks of training, we learned an incredible amount of fundamentals on which all subsequent classes would be based. So, missing this was strategically rather unwise.

When I noticed the others shuffling their chairs, I also stood up and simply followed them. Lost in thought, I almost bumped into an operating room nurse, my full tray in hand, who was just coming from the food counter and looking for a free seat. "Sorry," I mumbled halfheartedly, after the nurse shoved her tray away from me at the last moment and watched me leave, shaking her head.

As we stepped out of the revolving door of the main entrance, a blazing sun beat down on us from above. The prospect of probably arriving at the gynecology department drenched in sweat didn't help my mood at all. On top of that, I was starting to feel clear signs of a growing craving for my lunch, which I'd just thrown away untouched. It seemed as if today was really not going to be my day, when I suddenly heard someone shouting loudly behind me.

"SO YOU'RE THE ASSHOLE WHO CUMMED UP ALL OVER MY GIRLFRIEND'S ARM?"

I was just about to turn around when I saw the fist coming at my head. A split second later, I thought my skull would explode as I staggered forward and hit the pavement with my face. I barely registered the blood running from my forehead into my eyes. I also saw the security guard lunging at the attacker while Svenja screamed at him hysterically.

"ALEX, ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND NOW! Oh my God, Patrick, you're bleeding terribly! IS THERE ANYWHERE A DOCTOR? HELP! OH PLEASE HELP! OH MY GOD!"

I just caught a glimpse of Svenja looking down at me, her eyes wide open in panic, before it all went dark around me.

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. If some of my former classmates at the physiotherapy school (who in reality had different names of course) happen to come across this story, I would love to see their faces if they recognized themselves or their teachers, some of whom I have portrayed in a somewhat slightly exaggerated way. Anyway, in a sense, this story is — at least partially —autobiographical! Which part is autobiographical and which part is fictitious, I leave to the imagination of my readers, who I hope enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you for commenting! Your feedback will be my only payment for the work I put into this project. Please don't hesitate to tell me honestly if you don't like anything about my style or the story's content. I'm not a professional writer, so I welcome any feedback that helps me improve.The more feedback I receive, the better I'll be motivated to speed up the translation of the parts following! In any case, I'm happy about every encouraging review!

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

- Patrick Lehmann - Physiotherapy student

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

- Frauke Hinrichs - Lecturer in massage techniques

- Brenda 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

- Hedwig Gerber - Headmistress of the physiotherapy school

- Nadine Gutermuth - Physiotherapy student

- Leonie Enderle - Physiotherapy student

- Melanie Steinfurth - Physiotherapy student

- Barbara Hiebinger - Physiotherapy student

- Gabi Henkel - Physiotherapy student

- Petra Kelly - Lecturer in "PT Internal"

- Tabea Lauenberger - Physiotherapy student

- Inka Reinheimer - Physiotherapy student

- Angelika Lenz - Physiotherapy student

- Alexander Henninger, Svenja's boyfriend

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Tsememgb writes Thu 6 Nov 2025 21:22:

A wonderful story - I have not suggestions other than please continue with your translation of the rest of it. Thanks!

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