A routine doctor’s visit turns into a lot more

This week, I had a doctor’s appointment. Nothing serious, just my annual physical with Dr. Polansky, the general practitioner I’ve been seeing ever since I moved to the city. I’m 25-years-old and in great shape. So, my annual physical is normally just a routine exam. I was on a track scholarship in college. And even though I stopped competing after college, I still run and go to the gym five times a week. I’m 6’3” and 190 lbs of pure muscle. Those are the good proportions of a healthy young male. So, nothing to worry about. But I still think it’s important to go see my doctor regularly while everything is well, rather than waiting for something to be wrong.

A nurse escorted me to one of the consultation rooms and I was on my phone checking shirtless pics on Instagram when Dr. Polansky entered the room. He was followed by a younger guy, who also had a stethoscope around his neck, and was also wearing a white blouse, or whatever the fuck a doctor’s uniform is called.

‘Good morning, Brandon. Good to see you again’ Dr. Polansky said. ‘This is Dr. McGregor. He is a medical student who is doing a rotation with us for the next couple of months as part of his residency’.

Dr. Polansky is in his early 60’s. I don’t know why he still works because I’m sure he doesn’t really need to. His wife is also a doctor, and their youngest daughter is already done with college. So, I trust his finances are healthy. He must just love his job!

Now, Dr. McGregor was a different story. He was probably a couple of years older than me, but was still in his 20’s. He was on the smaller side, 5’8” or 5’9”, and couldn’t have been more than 140 lbs, although it was hard to gauge under his blouse. As you might expect with a name like McGregor, he was somewhat gingery, not the full orange of a carrottop, but more of a reddish blond color, probably more reddish than blond actually. His hair was all curly. His curls were so perfect that I couldn’t tell if it was natural or if he spent as much time doing his hair in the morning as I did grooming my beard. And he had a 2 or 3-day stubble that was the same reddish blond color, maybe just a shade darker than the hair on top of his head. His white blouse was only buttoned at the bottom and his shirt underneath also had the top button undone. A little patch of reddish hair spurted out of the collar of his shirt, telling me there was probably a lot more where it came from. To be perfectly honest, Dr. McGregor didn’t really have that doctor’s look and could easily have been mistaken for a bartender in Soho.

Fuck! That was a little sexy motherfucker of a doctor!

As always, Dr. Polansky started by checking my pulse, my temperature, and my blood pressure, which always confuses me because the nurse had just done that five minutes ago. When he asked me if I could roll up my sleeve to take my blood pressure, I just offered to take my shirt off altogether. I was wearing a white wifebeater underneath, which gave me an opportunity to show off my broad shoulders, my biceps, and my hairy forearms. The low neckline of my wifebeater also displayed my hairy chest nicely.

It so happens I had just trimmed my chest hair the day before. Don’t get me wrong, I love my chest hair. But I inherited strong genes from my Italian grandfather, and I find that if I don’t deforest from time to time, things become unruly very quickly. I found that half an inch is the sweet spot to still showcase my manly attributes, but without looking like a fucking orang outang. But, unlike my short beard, which I groom pretty much every day to keep it at the exact 5 to 7-day length that I like, I don’t trim my chest hair every day. Given the amount of real estate to maintain, I would spend two hours in the bathroom every morning if I did that. Instead, I manscape on weekends when I don’t have too much going on. I trim my chest hair to a quarter of an inch. It looks a little bit adolescent for a few days, until it naturally grows back to the half an inch that I like. I try to time the trimming with my upcoming beach vacation or other occasions where I know I’ll be taking my shirt off. And I usually let it grow close to a full inch, until it’s time to start the cycle all over again.

Even with my chest hair trimmed to a quarter of an inch, anybody can still see I’m not a prepubescent teenager. At 25-years-old, I have found that I’m still growing more hair. It used to be that my treasure trail stopped just above my navel. But in the last year or so, I’ve started to grow a continuous trail that fully connects my treasure trail to my chest hair, right in the crevice of my 6-pack. And my treasure trail, which used to be just that: a treasure trail, is now surrounded by hair on both sides.

To make a long story short, I HAVE to trim.

Dr. Polansky, who has already seen me naked before and has probably seen thousands of naked patients throughout his career, didn’t seem to even notice and kept being all business. But the amount of skin I was now showing certainly caught the attention of Dr. McGregor who had a hard time holding his jaw that was about to drop onto his clipboard.

‘Well, well, well!’ I thought to myself. ‘What have we got here?’

I decided to focus my mind-reading powers on Dr. McGregor’s brain to find out what was going on underneath his curly ginger hair. But it didn’t require any superpowers to know that Dr. McGregor was digging me.

Once he was done with my blood pressure, Dr. Polansky grabbed his stethoscope to check my heart rate. With Dr. McGregor in mind, I offered to take my wifebeater off, so that he could put his stethoscope directly on my skin. He did the ‘inhale-deep-breath’ thing, which gave me the opportunity to puff up my chest as I inhaled. Dr. McGregor’s eyes were glued to my hairy pecs.

Dr. Polansky asked me all the generic questions he asks every year about my diet, my physical activities, my sleep pattern, etc. And then he moved to the interesting part.

‘Are you still sexually active, Brandon?’ Dr. Polansky asked.

‘Oh yeah!’ I replied with a smile. ‘Hyperactive actually’.

I figured out I would be as graphic as possible with Dr. Polansky. First of all, I think it’s important to be fully transparent with the General Practitioner who monitors my health over the years. But today, I also wanted to have some fun, teasing Dr. McGregor who was riveted by our conversation.

‘Watch and learn, Intern!’ I thought to myself while smiling at him.

‘Do you have sex with multiple partners?’ Dr. Polansky asked.

‘Oh yeah!’ I replied. ‘Although last week, I banged the same guy two days in a row’.

‘Do you use protection?’ Dr. Polansky asked.

‘Nnaaahh!’ I responded. ‘I do if the guy asks for it. But otherwise, I prefer not to’.

‘Why is that?’ Dr. Polansky asked with a frown on his face.

‘Well, I produce a lot of juice when I cum and I shoot really far’ I responded, ‘and the little pouch at the end of the condom is not nearly big enough to receive it all. Once the pouch is full after my first rope, it kinds of stops me in my tracks, and interferes with my orgasm. The rest of my cum kind of backs up inside my dick, kind like a traffic jam, and I can’t shoot the way I like’.

Dr. Polansky didn’t falter at my response. He’s probably heard a million excuses over his long career as to why people don’t want to use condoms, can’t quit smoking, or can’t stay away from donuts. But Dr. McGregor was clearly aroused by the graphic details of my responses. I caught him readjusting himself underneath his blouse, trying to conceal his hand movement with his clipboard. Me making him rock-hard by just describing how I liked exploding without a condom was a promising start.

‘Maybe I can explode inside your ginger hole, Doc!’ I thought to myself, staring at Dr. McGregor with a lusty look, making sure he knew exactly what I was thinking about.

‘You should still use protection every time’ Dr. Polansky advised.

‘I get tested regularly’ I responded, kind of brushing off his recommendation. ‘And I normally go after the married type anyway. I stay away from gay sluts. So, I like my chances’ I added.

I kept to myself the fact I have a mind-reading gift that allows me to at least weed out the ones who know they might not be clean, even if that’s not 100% bulletproof. I share a lot with Dr. Polansky, but my superpowers are none of his business.

‘Any erectile issue?’ Dr. Polansky asked.

‘Nope! I have no problem getting it up’ I joked.

Although all the questions were being asked by Dr. Polansky, all my responses were aimed at Dr. McGregor. Thanks to my mind-reading powers, I could tell that Dr. McGregor was feeling very uncomfortable in his tight little briefs, harder than a rock, and leaking precum on the fabric. He was desperately trying to figure out where he could go rub one off after the consultation.

‘Any other problem I should know about?’ Dr. Polansky asked.

‘Well, Doctor’ I responded. ‘There is one little thing. I noticed this scratch on my penis a couple of days ago’.

‘Where is the scratch located exactly?’ Dr. Polansky asked.

‘Huh’ I hesitated. ‘I’m not sure what the medical term is. But it’s on my dickhead’.

‘That would be the glans’ Dr. Polansky replied. ‘Can I take a look at it?’

I took a quick glance at Dr. McGregor who was almost salivating, ready to scream: ‘Yeah! Can we take a look at it?’

‘Do you just want me to open my fly?’ I asked Dr. Polansky.

‘No, drop your pants and underwear altogether’ he responded. ‘We might as well look at your scrotum too’.

‘Yeah!’ Dr. McGregor screamed internally ‘I want to see your scrotum too!’. He had sparkles in his eyes. I’d have to let him know after the consultation that, in his line of business, he should do a better job curbing his enthusiasm.

I got up from the consultation table, unbuckled my belt, dropped my pants first, and then lowered my underwear to my knees, in front of both doctors. My cock was on full display in all its glory. I’m not hung like a horse, but still probably like a colt: 7 inches. And when I say 7 inches, I mean real inches. In gay talk, that would probably translate to 8 ½. And thick, especially in the middle of my shaft. And I’m lucky that I’m a shower. Even soft, my dick is bigger than a pencil-dicker who’s rock-hard.

‘You can sit back on the table’ said Dr. Polansky.

My naked dick, on full display in the consultation room, drew a very different reaction from both doctors. Dr. Polansky was busy putting his latex gloves on, unmoved, and ready to examine the scratch on my dickhead. But Dr. McGregor looked like he needed popcorn and a soda, ready to enjoy the show. He moved closer, his eyes now a couple of feet from my cock, 1% studying the scratch on my dickhead, 99% drooling over my alpha package. Given his slim frame, I bet his rock-hard dick wasn’t much thicker than my flaccid one, if at all. You never know with short skinny guys. Sometimes, you get positively surprised. But Dr. McGregor didn’t radiate big dick energy and his package was most likely proportional to his small frame.

‘Yes, there is a little abrasion’ Dr. Polansky said. ‘Any idea how that happened?’

‘I had a wild week, last week’ I admitted. ‘I banged this college student. He was a virgin, and his hole was tighter than tight. Then, I banged this firefighter later that same night. Technically, he wasn’t a virgin. But it had been so long, that he was just as tight as the college student. In total, I must have banged them five times. With the college student, I went bareback. But with the other guy, I used a condom. And even though I used a magnum, his hole was so tight that the condom kept rubbing on my dickhead’.

‘See, another good reason not to use protection’ I joked.

‘I see’ Dr. Polansky said, unamused by my humor.

Having Dr. Polansky’s fingers on my dickhead, Dr. McGregor drooling over my package, leaking precum in his briefs, and me bragging about my sexual prowess got me worked up. And I felt my cock stiffening in Dr. Polansky’s fingers. Part of me wanted to fight back my nascent boner and think about a mood killer to make my dick shrink back to its flaccid state. But part of me didn’t really care. I have a big cock, what can I say? And I might as well give Dr. McGregor what he wanted. He was fighting a raging hardon of his own behind his medical blouse. Why couldn’t I get one myself?

‘I’m sorry!’ I said, looking down at my stiffening cock in Dr. Polansky’s latex gloves, when it became obvious the roaring tiger couldn’t be tamed.

Dr. Polansky seemed unmoved as he probably had seen it all in his career. But Dr. McGregor was hesitating between smiling at the situation and being in awe of my big fat schlong. If he thought I was big when I was soft, he ain’t seen nothing yet!

‘Well, that answers your earlier question about erectile disfunction’ I joked.

‘But seriously, Doctor. That’s the problem. I’m sexually very active’. I continued. ‘Does this scratch mean I can’t have sex for a while?’

‘Yes, I would refrain from sexual activities for a week or so’ Dr. Polansky responded. ‘It’s just a superficial abrasion of the surface tissue. Nothing to be concerned about. But it probably needs a full week to heal’.

‘A full week!?!?!’ I exclaimed, as if I was being sentenced to 20 years of hard labor in the jungle. I already had a dude lined up for Friday night that I would have to cancel.

‘What about jerking off?’ I asked. ‘Sorry, I mean masturbation?’

‘I would refrain from doing that too’ Dr. Polansky responded. ‘Unless you can find a way to not rub your glans’ he added.

The second half of his sentence is the only one I registered. Although my dickhead is probably the most sensitive part of my dick and the one I like to stimulate when I jerk off, my shaft is big enough that I can still manhandle it and avoid touching my dickhead.

‘I’m not going a full week without draining my balls!’ I thought to myself.

Dr. Polansky let go of my dick, which didn’t need any help standing on its own anyway and started removing his latex gloves.

‘You can put your clothes back on’ Dr. Polansky said.

I stood up with my big fat cock waving in-between my legs. My balls had loosened up and were hanging low in-between my thighs. And I bent over to grab my boxer briefs on the chair next to the examination table. I didn’t go as far as turning around and flashing my hole in Dr. McGregor’s face while bending over. Why would he care about my hole? If he ever sees more of me, it will be my hard cock up his tight little cunt. My hole is off limit for him. Not that it’s what he’s interested in anyway.

‘I’ll let the nurse know you’re ready for the blood tests’ Dr. Polansky said.

‘Just tell her to wait another minute until I get fully dressed’ I joked, as I had just put my boxer briefs back on and my hardon was still very much visible.

Dr. Polansky left the examination room, but Dr. McGregor stayed, watching me get dressed.

‘Welcome to the joys of family practice’ I joked, while looking at Dr. McGregor.

Once I had my pants and my shirt back on, I looked Dr. McGregor in the eyes, my broad 6’3” frame overpowering his slim 5’8” frame.

‘So, Doc. Did you enjoy the show?’ I asked him, with a grin on my face.

‘I’m just here to do my job’ Dr. McGregor responded, taken aback by the bluntness of my assertion.

‘Of course, you are!’ I replied. ‘And it’s a hard one!’ I added, staring at the mid-section of his blouse.

The nurse walked in with what looked like a lunch box, but full of needles, tubes, and band aids. Her arrival cut short the conversation I had initiated with Dr. McGregor, trying to intimidate him with my assurance, and establishing my dominance for later. But an alpha dominating him was what he wanted anyway.

Instead of taking the blood samples herself, the nurse made Dr. McGregor do it, probably as part of his training. He did a fine job. How hard can it possibly be to find a vein to stick a needle into, when you’ve been in school pretty much your whole life? But I felt a 600-volt discharge travelling through both our bodies when he put his hands on my forearm. There was also an interesting moment when he asked me to make a fist and caught me doing a little upward punch with my fist. Not that I had any interest in fisting him, but I was very much interested in stuffing my schlong in his doctoral cunt.

Dr. Polansky came back one last time to say goodbye and the usual chit chat about when my test results would be available.

‘It was nice seeing you, Brandon, as always’ concluded Dr. Polansky.

‘Same here’ I responded. ‘It was nice meeting you, Doctor’ I said to Dr. McGregor. ‘I hope I get to see more of you in the future’.

‘It was nice meeting you too’ he responded, not knowing what else to add.

A couple of days later, I received a phone call from Dr.  Polansky’s office. I expected to hear a female voice as Dr. Polansky never bothers calling me himself with my test results, which always come back normal. But instead, it was a male voice, and one that I recognized.

‘Hi, this is Dr. McGregor, calling you about your test results’ said the voice on the phone.

‘Hi Doctor’ I responded. ‘What a pleasure to hear your voice. Nothing I should worry about, I hope’.

‘Not at all’ he replied. ‘All your tests came back normal. Cholesterol is fine. Iron level is fine. Your HIV test came back negative too’.

‘See, Doctor, I’m all clean’ I joked.

There was a moment of silence when Dr. McGregor sounded like he was searching for the right words.

‘And what about the abrasion on your penis?’ Dr. McGregor asked. ‘Does it seem to be healing well?’

‘Yep. Everything’s progressing well’ I responded. ‘I’ve been applying the gel you prescribed, and it seems to be working wonders. The scratch is still a little bit red, but it’s not nearly as sensitive as it was earlier this week. I should be back to normal this weekend, hopefully’.

‘Huh’ Dr. McGregor hesitated. ‘Have you refrained from masturbating, like Dr. Polansky advised?’

‘Are you kidding me, Doctor?’ I replied. ‘It’s already hard enough not having sex. I can’t leave the cobra in its basket for a week. My balls would explode’.

‘Luckily, my dick is big enough that I can avoid touching my dickhead and still get the job done’ I continued, picturing Dr. McGregor touching himself while listening to my graphic details.

‘As long as you’re avoiding the abrasion, that should be fine’ Dr. McGregor said.

‘Do you have any more questions for me?’ he added.

‘Just one’ I replied. ‘How will I be sure my dick is good to go again? Do you need to inspect it and give me the green light?’

‘That won’t be necessary’ Dr. McGregor answered. ‘If there’s no more irritation and it doesn’t hurt when you touch it, you should be fine’.

‘Well. If you ever change your mind, I’m around this weekend, Doctor’ I said. ‘You’ve got my number’.

After we hung up, I couldn’t help but smile at the dilemma Dr. McGregor was faced with. He wanted my dick so bad, and I was teasing him every occasion I got. But he didn’t want to cross any line that could jeopardize his career.

I knew he would come back for more though. I was just curious to see how he would find an opening… no pun intended.

On Friday afternoon, I received a text from a number I didn’t recognize: ‘Brandon, this is Dr. McGregor. After second thought, it would be prudent to have your abrasion looked at’.

Me: ‘I agree. Should I call the office to make an appointment?’

Dr. McGregor: ‘That won’t be necessary. I can schedule that with you directly’.

Me: ‘I’d rather not have to go to Dr. Polansky’s office. Is there a way you could do a home consultation?’

Dr. McGregor: ‘Yes, that would be fine. I’m off this weekend. But I could make an exception for you on Saturday’.

I gave him my address and we agreed on 10 am on Saturday. I was giggling like a schoolgirl all morning on Saturday, waiting for Dr. McGregor to show up. I expected this to be the best doctor’s visit of my life.

At 10:01am, I got a call from the doorman downstairs: ‘Hi this is Tony, I have Dr. McGregor here to see you’.

‘You can send him upstairs’ I responded, ‘Thanks Tony’.

I was only wearing my Calvin Klein briefs when I opened the door. I look great in them, and they leave little to the imagination.

‘Hi Doctor’ I said. ‘Sorry for the outfit, but I normally stay in my underwear when I’m around the house. And since you’re about to make me take them off, I figured out there was no point dressing up. And you’ve seen me naked before anyway’.

‘That’s perfectly fine’ he responded, past his initial surprise. ‘I’m dressed casually as well’.

Dr. McGregor was wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt with white and navy stripes. The first thing I noticed was his chest hair in the V of his shirt’s collar. He didn’t button either of the two buttons and there was indeed a lot more than the little patch that spurted out of his shirt at Dr. Polansky’s office the other day. His forearms were also covered in reddish fur, to the point you could barely see the freckles underneath. My forearms are hairy too, but my dark hair is straight, and people often joke that I must be combing my forearms in the morning. Dr. McGregor’s hair was completely curly and looked very different from mine.

The other thing I also noticed was that, surprisingly, Dr. McGregor had nice hazel eyes and not the blue eyes I would have expected from a guy with reddish blond hair. I never really paid attention to his eyes at Dr. Polansky’s office. I guess not every Scotsman has blue eyes, especially if they’re American and probably mixed-in with a lot of other ancestries. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and his stubble was a bit longer than when I had my doctor’s visit earlier in the week.

Just like I was checking him out, Dr. McGregor was also checking me out. Since I was much taller than him, my chest hair was almost at eye level for him. And he didn’t have to look down too much to check the bulge in my briefs.

‘Are you a runner by any chance, Doctor?’ I asked.

‘I am’ he responded. ‘How did you know?’

I knew it. Having been on the track team since middle school, I recognize that body type. I actually lost my virginity to a long-distance runner: Tim Braxton. I was a freshman in high school, and he was a senior. We were in the communal shower after practice and, when he noticed how much I was packing, he had to have me. Even as a freshman, I already knew I could fill up the pouch of my briefs nicely, and I was never shy in the locker room. I ended up banging him in his truck in an empty parking lot. He couldn’t get enough of my cock, and I made him grunt like a little piglet. That was the first power trip I ever experienced as a top; first of many. As a fifteen-year-old freshman who had no clue what he was doing, I realized my big cock had the power to make a senior grunt like a little bitch, make his eyes roll into his fucking skull, and make him lose control and squirt his boyjuice all over the leather seats of his truck. This first experience probably turned me into the aggressive top I’ve become, when he admitted to me that was the best sex he had ever had, even though I was still a virgin ten minutes prior. Dr. McGregor’s tight little cunt would find out soon enough. That night with Tim Braxton is when I decided to get serious about hitting the weight room, to get the physique that matches my big cock. And that’s part of the reason why I got that track scholarship that got me to where I am today. See, it’s all linked! And it all started with my big dick.

‘Do you run marathons, Doc?’ I asked.

‘I do’ Dr. McGregor responded.

‘What’s your personal best?’ I asked.

‘2 hours 53’ he replied.

‘Wow! That’s amazing!’ I declared. ‘Anything below three hours is really up there’.

I like men with endurance. It made my dick twitch a little just thinking about it. But we weren’t here to talk about Dr. McGregor’s athletic abilities. We were here for a medical exam.

‘So, how do you want to do this, Doctor?’ I asked. ‘I don’t have a consultation table. Should I just sit on the couch?’

‘Yes, that would be fine’ he replied.

I took off my briefs and placed them on the armrest, and I sat down on the couch, my legs spread open, my dick slightly aroused from thinking about my first time with Tim Braxton.

Dr. McGregor kneeled on the carpet in front of me and took my dick in his fingers, moving it around to study the scratch from different angles. His fingers touching my dick sent shivers all over my body. It’s not like it’s the first time a guy has his hands on my dick. But this time felt different. Something weird about the setup of a medical consultation that we both knew was just an excuse for him to go after my manhood. Dr. McGregor didn’t say a word as my dick was hardening in his fingers and, before I even knew it, his lips were around my shaft and his tongue was swirling around my dickhead, licking the wound he was here to nurse.

‘Oh yead, Doc. Just like that!’ I said as I sank into the couch and tilted my head back a little. ‘Oh yeah! Suck that dick, Doc. You’ve wanted that dick the minute you first saw me’.

And Dr. McGregor started attacking my hardening cock with his lips. I brought my hands to his head to guide him. Not that Dr. McGregor needed any guidance. This was not his first-time sucking dick. He was actually a master cocksucker and got my cock leaking precum inside his mouth in no time.

‘I don’t want to cum in your mouth, Doc’. I said. ‘I have other plans for you’.

And I pulled my hard dick out of his mouth.

‘Let’s get you comfortable, Doc’ I said.

I pulled his polo shirt over his head, while Dr. McGregor took care of his belt. He got up and lowered his pants, revealing a pair of red briefs. His shaft was very prominent in the pouch of his briefs. You could see the outline behind the fabric. That was the outline of a hardening dick that was begging for more room to express itself.

Dr. McGregor wasn’t muscular, especially his upper body. Muscle mass adds extra weight that competitive runners can’t afford to carry around. But because his body fat had to be in the single digits, his biceps formed little round balls that flexed up and down as he moved his arms, fondling my dick and balls. But the thighs of runners are what I find really exciting: pure muscles that scream raw horsepower. His quads were firm to the touch but still flexible, with every muscle in his legs visible under his skin. And his 6-pack was clearly defined, as if his skin was directly glued to his abs, with no flesh in-between; although it was hard to tell because his stomach was covered in reddish fur.

Despite his small frame Dr. McGregor wasn’t twinky at all. Quite the opposite. He was a little ball of fur, curly ginger fur all over his body. He was the textbook definition of an otter, a ginger otter. His chest was just as hairy as mine, but with curly hairs that felt very different from mine. His chest hair went from one shoulder to the other, up to his clavicles, which explains the patch of hair that stuck out of his shirt the other day. His lower stomach was also covered in fuzz, not just a treasure trail but hair covering his abs, forming trails in the crevices of his 6-pack. A continuous hair cover that started from his hip bones around his briefs and ran all the way up to his shoulders.

The red of his briefs was a great color on his pale freckle-covered skin and went well with the reddish-brown hair on his stomach, which was a little bit darker than the reddish blond hair on his head. The size of his bulge was exactly what you would expect from a guy his size, but because he had no body fat, his bulge was prominent, sticking out of his body, rather than buried in-between his thighs.

Isn’t ‘fun size’ how they call guys like him? If that’s the case, then fun is what I was going to have with him.

‘You saw my test results, Doc. I’m clean’ I said. ‘If you really want my cock, you’re gonna take it raw’.

He just nodded, without saying a word. I kind of already took his willpower away from him, and he was now following my marching orders, like the good little boy he was.

I lowered his briefs, revealing his package. His cock was average in size, maybe a little bit longer than average, but skinnier than average. But what was peculiar about it was that it was thicker at the base, skinnier in the middle, and thicker again at his nice cut dickhead. Not quite like an hourglass, but with a narrower middle part. The exact opposite of my dick, which is so thick in the middle. I don’t think I had ever seen a dick shaped like his. I wondered what it would feel like to get fucked by a dick like that, that was skinnier in the middle. But it didn’t really matter because today, it was my sausage that would be doing all the stuffing.

‘So that you know, I’m pretty dominant in bed, Doc. I hope that’s OK with you’ I said.

But I knew that’s what he wanted. I knew it from the first second he saw me in my wifebeater at Dr. Polansky’s office. And even if he hadn’t been into that, there’s a point at which, when the 190-lbs guy starts talking, the 140-lbs guy starts listening… and obeying. And I knew he wanted to be obedient.

I put him on all fours on the couch, and I stood in front of him, my now rock-hard cock waving in-between my legs, right in his face. I wanted him to take one last look at the piece of meat that was going to split him in half.

‘Do you think you can handle it, Doc?’ I asked. ‘Have you ever taken one like that before?’

‘Not quite’ he said, ‘but I’m ready’.

‘Well, you’re going to be blown away then’ I declared.

When I travel, I always have a small travel-size bottle of lube. But at home, I have a quarter gallon dispenser with a press pump. I have found it to make things more intimidating for my bottoms, when the reality sinks in of how much lube is required to make my jack fit into their box. I moved behind him, pressed a big squirt of lube out of the dispenser, making a big gooey sound while doing so, and I applied some at his back entrance. Just like the rest of his body, Dr. McGregor’s ass was covered in reddish fuzz, which grew thicker in his ass crack. His rosebud was blooming out of a thick layer of ginger hair that I first had to brush away. I brought my first finger to his entrance. It went in with almost no resistance. Dr. McGregor had definitely been uncapped before. I moved to two and eventually three fingers. I pushed them in and out of his hole. I quickly realized he was ready for the entrée.

A hole is supposed to be tight at first… until it gets progressively enlarged. Most guys try to resist the initial invasion. It’s a normal survival instinct: gag reflex in one hole, clenching tight in the other. But they can only hold the fort for so long until their defenses get overwhelmed by the relentless pressure on their entry gate, like a battering ram splintering the gate of a medieval fortress, eventually making enough room for the pillaging to begin. Once the entry gate has been breached, the hole is left defenseless to endure the ruthless pounding, loosening up as the ram broadens the passage to the required dimensions.

But that’s not really how things went down with Dr. McGregor. His back door was ajar from the get-go. It was begging to be stuffed and offered no serious resistance, aside from the initial little pop. The entry of my pointy dickhead was just a breeze. But once the girthiest part of my cock followed, things got a lot tighter, and remained tight. His hole wasn’t designed to expand to the required dimensions. It was just a sheer size issue, since he was a small guy. The pressure his tight hole kept applying on my rod felt fucking amazing!

Taking Dr. McGregor doggy-style gave me a great view of my thick cock plunging into his hairy hole, disappearing into his depth, and reappearing a second later, pulling out the edge of his ring on the way out. Watching my meat disappear in his tight little hole turned me on, big time! It made me even harder than I already was. I had my hands on each side of his slim waist, which couldn’t have been more than 28 or 29 inches around. His waist looked so tight, and my cock looked so big in comparison. The spectacle was mind-blowing. I was afraid he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. But it must have felt amazing for him too because the guy was moaning. Dudes always moan when I fuck them, but something about his moaning felt different. My mind-reading powers were telling me Dr. McGregor wanted it rough. So, I started alternating slow and fast pounding to pressure test how much his tight little cunt could handle. And every time I went deeper or harder, his moaning intensified. But it wasn’t a moaning of pain or surprise while withstanding my assaults, it was a moaning of sheer pleasure.

To confirm my suspicions, I started increasing the range of my cunting. And every few strokes, I would give him a harder thrust, sinking deep into his cunt, and holding there for a second or two. Each one of these more powerful thrusts would extract a louder moan out of him. There were no two ways about it, Dr. McGregor liked being dominated. He liked the pounding of a big cock in his tight little ass and feeling defenseless about taking it.

‘You like that, Doc?’ I asked. ‘You like it rough? You like my big cock up your ass?’

‘Yeah!’ Dr. McGregor replied. ‘Keep fucking me’.

‘You LOVE my cock, Doc!’ I continued. ‘You’ve loved it the minute you first saw it. You like drooling over your patients’ bodies, you little perv!’

‘Yeah!’ he responded. ‘But you caught me. And now you’re giving me the punishment I deserve’.

‘Tell me you want it rough, Doc’ I yelled. ‘Tell me you’re just a little bitch who wants to be punished!’

‘Yes, I’m just a little bitch’ he responded. ‘Fuck me hard. Fuck me harder!’

If rough is what he wanted, I knew exactly what to do. I grabbed his hips and lifted his ass up, as high as I could. If that wasn’t the definition of ‘face-down-ass-up’, then I don’t know what was. I pressed on the small of his back to keep my balance, my hands flat on the little patch of curly ginger hair on top of his ass crack, and I put my left foot right on his neck. I was standing behind him, my right foot on the couch but my left foot pressing on his neck, like St Michael slaying the dragon. But instead of a sword in my hand, I had my hard cock in Dr. McGregor’s cunt. And Dr. McGregor had his face sideways, his left cheek pinned against the leather of my couch, his right cheek right next to my foot on his neck.

‘You like that, Doc?’ I asked. ‘You like being pinned down against the couch?’’

‘Yeah’ he replied. ‘I’ve been bad. Teach me a lesson’.

‘‘If that’s what you want, then take it’ I said. ‘Take my cock, you little bitch!’

And I drilled his tight little cunt with brute force, my foot pressing on his neck, but trying not to break his bones, and my hands pressing on his lower back for support. It wasn’t a very comfortable position for me and the angle of my cock fucking Dr. McGregor sideways was kind of awkward. I was hoping I wouldn’t scratch my dickhead again. But I’ve never had a power trip, from forcing a guy to submit, the way Dr. McGregor was submitting to me right here right now, with his face pinned down by my foot. I was standing on my couch, right by the window, railing Dr. McGregor’s hungry ass, and I felt like I was on top of the world, although technically, I was only on the 16th floor. And Dr. McGregor LOVED it! I could tell he loved it. He loved every inch of my cock drilling his ass. He loved being roughed up by a bigger and stronger man than him. His dick was throbbing under the assault as his little balls were being banged by my low hanging balls waving in-between my thighs. His balls were covered in ginger fur, like the rest of his mid-section, and they were tickling my balls a little.

Once I had pinned down his face against my couch, Dr. McGregor went from moaning to plain screaming. I’ve had guys scream before, but Dr. McGregor was on a WHOLE different level. My neighbor would be looking at me funny tomorrow. Luckily, my neighbor was a young guy too, and he had brought a few girls home over the past year. And one of them was a screamer as well. They kept me up until 2am one night when I had to go to work early the next day. Although I was quite annoyed at the time, tossing and turning in my bed, I was also aroused by the whole thing. And since they wouldn’t let me sleep, I ended up jerking off in my bed, picturing my hot neighbor making the bitch scream.

I have this theory that guys (or girls) who travel tend to scream louder than guys who host. Guys who host tend to hold back because they’re the ones who will have to face their neighbors after loud sex the next day. But guys who travel don’t give a fuck. They can scream as loud as they want. No need to hold back because there’s no consequence for them. I’m sure Dr. McGregor would never have been that loud if I had been fucking his brains out in his childhood bedroom, while his parents were watching Jeopardy downstairs.

But we were at my place, and boy was he a screamer!

‘Oh yeah, listen to you, screaming like a little bitch!’ I said. ‘You like that, bitch!’

‘Yeah! You’re so big!’ Dr. McGregor cried. ‘Your cock feels so good’.

After the power trip of Dr. McGregor submitting to me like he did, I wanted a position where I could stick my cock even deeper inside his guts. I pulled out in one thrust, extracting a ‘humph’ out of him as his hole went from fully stretched out to fully empty. His hole was gasping, opening and closing under my eyes, as if it no longer knew how to seal shut, and was begging to be stuffed again. I put Dr. McGregor on his back, his ass facing up above the couch, me standing up, my hard dick facing his hungry hole. I grabbed his ankles and spread his legs wide. Dr. McGregor was quite flexible, and I spread his legs wider than any guy I’ve ever fucked before. Instead of pressing upfront, his knees against his chest, and his ankles to his ears like I often do, I stretched his legs to each side, almost forcing him to do the splits. His hole was still gasping, begging to be filled again. And filling his hole is what I did. I brought my cockhead to his gaping hole and pushed in, bottoming out with zero resistance. And I started cunting him out again. And Dr. McGregor was taking it, my wrecking ball destroying his inner walls, a little more with every bang.

And Dr. McGregor started screaming again. Now, it wasn’t just my neighbor who would be looking at me funny. It was the entire fucking building. Tony the doorman, 16 floors below, could hear his screaming. I grabbed my briefs on the armrest and stuffed them in Dr. McGregor’s mouth to try to gag him.

‘Go ahead, you little bitch!’ I said. ‘You can scream as loud as you want. Nobody can hear you anymore’.

Hearing his screams muffled by Calvin Klein got me even more horned up. Dr. McGregor kind of sounded like Kenny in South Park. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, and the pitch of his voice had gone up one octave. But the muffled sound was exhilarating as fuck! It made me pound him even harder.

I’m not used to fucking fun size boys. I usually prefer going after guys my size and feel the thrill of submitting another alpha. I was afraid I would break him. His insides were so tight, even after several minutes of dicking, and I hit something with the tip of my dick. It’s not so much my length that makes me dangerous, it’s normally my girth. I’m used to facing resistance when I open a guy up and split his hole in half. But I can’t remember hitting the wall, literally, the way I did with Dr. McGregor. I’d have to remember to pull out a little when I cum to make room for the tsunami of jizz that would soon gush out of my balls.

And I kept pounding his hole. Even though he was a small guy, his chest hair still made it feel like I was fucking a real man, not a little boy. I took my briefs out of Dr. McGregor’s mouth, lowered my head, and went on to kiss him, him now screaming in my mouth, instead of screaming in my briefs. My tongue attacking his mouth was trying to muffle his screams. My hairy chest was now pressing against his hairy chest, our hair catching like Velcro. His balls had no place to go and were being crushed by my lower stomach pressing against his. And his hard dick was rubbing against his stomach and mine. I pulled out a little. I was now teasing his ring with my dickhead, stopping short of pulling out completely, and pushing back in, just deep enough to hammer his G-spot. But I was no longer stuffing his cunt as deep as I could. By moving back that much, my lower abs were now pressing against Dr. McGregor’s dickhead, which was lodged in the crevice of my 6-pack. And I started jerking his dickhead with my abs. His skinny dick was just the right girth to fit in-between my 6-pack.

That put Dr. McGregor over the edge. I felt his cock swell in-between my abs and I felt his potion gush out and shoot up all the way up to my pecs. And Dr. McGregor yelled in my mouth as he was cumming from his cock being jerked to completion by our two stomachs.

That did it for me as well, as I felt the pressure rise in my balls, and my cock started shooting my alpha juice into Dr. McGregor’s cunt.

‘Yeah, take my spunk! I’m gonna drown your cunt, Doc!’ I yelled, trying to cover his screams with my voice.

And I went back to kissing him, to muffle his screams again, as I planted ropes and ropes of my potent seeds inside his cunt. We were both shooting in unison, him drenching his chest hair and mine with his medicinal juice; me filling his cunt with my alpha juice.

And I collapsed on his chest, panting heavily after my orgasm, him not forced to make the splits anymore, and now wrapping his legs around the small of my back.

Fuck that was hot! If that’s not a hungry little bottom, then I don’t know what is.

I might not be a saint and you can call me all kinds of names. But if there’s one thing you can’t call me, it’s ‘selfish in bed’. I give my bottoms what they crave for, and I work hard to put their pleasure ahead of mine. That’s partially because watching them get off while dangling on my cock is what gets me off too. You can call that narcistic if you want, but that’s not selfish! I bet that was the best sex he’s ever had in his life.

Dr. McGregor was drenched in both sweat and jizz, also panting heavily, his hole still gasping around my hard cock, which was still lodged inside him.

That was the best doctor’s visit I’ve ever had.

I asked Dr. McGregor if he wanted to shower, and he told me he was OK and would shower at his place.

‘Thanks for the visit, Doctor’ I told him on his way out.

‘My pleasure’ he replied. ‘I’m glad your penis is back to normal’.

And Dr. McGregor left. I didn’t even catch his first name.

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(Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story. I’m always looking for feedback, good or bad. Feel free to leave me a comment or send me an email. I respond to all the emails I receive, except for the freaky ones)