Your doctor has cared for you since you were a baby. He was your parents' primary physician, so once you and your siblings were born he looked after your whole family. It's safe to say he knows you more intimately than anyone, even your wife! It's time to take this relationship to the next level.
"But I'm married," he'll say. "So are you. We're both married to women."
You concede that your marriages are great, but you also know that you only go around once in this life, and with your family history of heart disease you might only have another 20 or 25 years to do what you really want to do.
"And what I really want to do," tell him, "is take you out to a nice romantic dinner and see where this goes."
That night at dinner you're both nervous, but you break the tension with a joke about how you'd better watch what you order since he knows exactly what your cholesterol levels are. You both laugh pretty hard at that.
"I like your blazer," you tell him, picking some lint off his shoulder.
"Thanks," he says. "My wife helped me pick it out. She was excited that we're going out after I've talked so much about you."
"You talked about me?"
"Didn't you talk about me to your wife?"
You say sure, but you thought your crush was one-sided.
"You never let on," you say to him.
Your doctor places his hand on your knee, the knee he hits with the little rubber reflex hammer during every physical he's every given you.
"I was being professional," your doctor says.
After dinner you go back to your doctor's office and you both take a cocktail of pills that he says will make your orgasms more powerful. Boy does he end up being right about that.
In the coming months your innocent crush turns to an animal need to make love to your doctor every chance you get. The two of you take more and more pills, and after the sex is over, the comedown from those pills is so great that he starts prescribing pills to get you back on track, giving you a boost so you can go back to work or go home and be a father to your children.
Your wife notices a difference in you. You're sluggish, easily set off, and you soon lose interest even in sleeping with your doctor. You just want the pills.
Your doctor is having trouble with the pills too. He says it's been a challenge for him his whole career. One night he swallows one too many and goes into cardiac arrest right there in your arms. You get him to the hospital but he's 78 and his years of drug abuse have taken their toll. He dies with you by his bedside.
With your doctor gone, you have to find your pills on the street. You empty your bank account, your kids' college fund, all the money you can find to get what you need. Your wife leaves you just before you're caught embezzling from your firm.
Detoxing in prison is easier than you would have expected, and though you've lost everything, you're overjoyed to have your mind back. It's nice to have a clear head again so you can spend your days stretched out on your bunk, losing yourself in memories of those sensuous afternoons you spent in complete surrender to your insatiable, ravenous hunger for your family physician.
Happy You Finally Got Up The Nerve To Ask Out Your Doctor Day!