Suddenly, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I was sliding into second base. The shortstop, Mike, covering second, had to leap as he fielded the ball. My left foot got tangled with the bag and, before I could twist away, I watched Mike's foot come down directly on my left leg. He landed with all his weight on the meatiest part the thigh and I felt the sharp spikes of his shoe rip the cloth and cut into me. Realizing his foot was contacting flesh, Mike flipped himself upwards. His spiked shoe pulled off but then his whole body landed with full force right on top of me with a great "Ooomph!" forcing the air out of us both.

I became aware of his hard, protective sport cup pressing into my equally well-protected groin. He was atop me for a moment longer than I thought really necessary for regaining his composure. "Geez, I'm sorry, Jack," he muttered sincerely as he pulled himself off of me, kneeling next to me. "Let me help you up." As he reached his hand out, he looked down at my thigh. The torn stretch-fabric of my pants had pulled away, forming a large hole, which revealed the wound. Blood was starting to ooze from each point of contact with the spikes. Mike looked up into my face in alarm and turned pale. His eyes rolled up into his head and then he toppled right over onto the ground next to me, out cold. I'd been told he was a pre-med student at his college. It occurred to me that his future in medicine was grim if every time he saw blood he would react like this. Despite the predicament we were in, I started to chuckle.

* * * * *

I was lying on a narrow table in the extremely bright, clean looking, astringent smelling, emergency room of the college infirmary. The noisy crowd that had brought me in had been shooed away by a white-clad figure, who, I assumed, was an orderly. The doors were closed. I was left alone. It was very quiet. I started wondering how Mike would fare, thinking of how handsome and innocent-looking he was, when, suddenly, the orderly reappeared. He looked, to me, like a dentist because he wore one of those starched white shirts that button diagonally up the chest to the shoulder.

"Hi. I'm Greg," he said cheerfully with a reassuring smile. "I'm in charge of this emergency room on week-ends. Let me tell you what we're going to do." He didn't wait for a response from me. "I'm going to clean your wound and prepare it for surgery..."

I interrupted him. "You mean you can't just bandage it up?"

"No, I'm afraid not. The puncture wounds are too deep and have cut into muscle tissue. Fortunately, any major veins or arteries were missed. You were lucky. I believe the strong material of your uniform took enough of the pressure to keep this from being even more serious than it is. However, a surgeon must repair the tissue and close the wounds. It won't take long. You'll be fine." He smiled again and looked into my eyes in such a tender way that I took another look at him. He was about my age, so I figured he was a student and this was his part-time job. He was tall and slender without being skinny, had close-cropped wavy hair that gave him a professional look, and straight white teeth that gleamed when he smiled. And his eyes penetrated right into me when he looked at me. He was, altogether, very handsome.

"Are you an orderly?" I asked, curious about him now.

"No. I'm an RN - a Registered Nurse." He paused, letting that sink in, as he went to the foot of the table and began removing my shoes and socks.

"Oh!" I said in surprise, "but you're a..." I stopped. His expression didn't change, but I realized I was being tactless. He must have been used to it. He smiled brightly. "Men make good nurses, too," he said. Then he laughed, saying, "Would you like me to send in a woman to do what I'm about to do?" He brandished a large pair of scissors.

"What are you going to do?" I asked apprehensively.

"I'm going to cut your pants off," he said in a sexy, conspiratorial way, like it would be fun for both of us.

"Can't you just..."

"No, I can't," he interrupted."You lie still. The wound is covered and I want to disturb it as little as possible. The pants are ruined, anyway, and the college will give you a new pair, I'm sure." He smiled and began cutting. The pants started just below the knee and the modern stretch-fabric caused them to split open easily as he cut in a straight line right up my left thigh to the hole made by the cleats, and then continued to cut above it. He didn't stop at the crotch but cut right up to, but not through, the waistband. My leg was exposed. He looked appreciatively at my flesh. "You're very muscular, uh..." He wanted to call me by name but had forgotten it.

"Call me Jack."

"Yes. Jack, you're very muscular." He smiled and moved around the bottom of the table to my right leg and started cutting.

I didn't know what to say but for some inexplicable reason my cup started feeling cramped. Oh, shit, I thought, A little flattery, and look at me. Throwin' a boner. I can't start getting turned on NOW! I tried to think of something else.

"You look uneasy, Jack," he commented, breaking into my thoughts, "is something the matter?" I'm sure his smile was meant to reassure, but, to me, it made him look so sexy, it made matters worse.

"Uh... Uh... I was just wondering," I said haltingly, trying to alter the course of my thinking, "if you're an RN, you must be older than you look."

"Well, thank you," he responded, "I'll take that as a compliment. Are you a senior?

"No, a sophomore, but I did some time in the Army before starting school."

"Oh, so you've had plenty of experience." He smiled knowingly. I didn't know exactly what he meant by that but before the conversation could continue he had reached the waistband on the right side and he started undoing my belt and unbuttoning my pants.

"I can do that," I protested, but he cut me off, saying, "Just relax. I know what I'm doing. You must try to stay as quiet as possible." He opened the fly and then cut the material from the bottom of the fly to the cut edge, on both sides. The pants fell away from my body. He plucked the cup from my groin and looked at it. "I always thought these things were worn under the jockstrap," he muttered to himself, and then set the cup aside. "Raise your hips slightly," he instructed, and yanked the pants out from under me. "There," he said with apparent satisfaction, dumping the remains of the garment into a hamper.

"Now, let's get you out of the rest of your clothes." He grinned again.

"Is that necessary?" I asked.

"Yes. When the surgeon is finished, you'll be admitted to the ward for a few days. You need to be immobilized and these puncture wounds will have to be monitored for infection. You don't want to lose the leg, do you?" As he unbuttoned my jersey he looked up from the task into my eyes. There was, again, something in the look that made my heart beat faster.

With my jersey off, he moved to the head of the table and, reaching down over me, grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it up, over my head. I was naked except for my sweaty jock strap and a light gauze bandage over the wound.

"Hmmm." he said, "You have a very well-developed body, Jack." He was moving around the table to my left side. He picked up the scissors. "Now, let's get this jock off." Before I could protest, he lifted the pouch by sliding his left hand along my hip, onto my abdomen, under the cloth of the pouch, through my pubic hair pushing aside my somewhat inflated cock, grabbed the material and simultaneously quickly snipped through it. The waistband and an inch or two snapped back against my stomach. He smiled at me and let go of the material in his left hand. It snapped and slid against my genitals in a sensual way and disappeared between my thighs.My cock flopped in response.

Again, he slid his left hand against my cockhair and then up, under the waistband of the jock. He lifted and snipped. The band of elastic material separated, but he did not loosen his grip. I raised my hips slightly and the sliced-up jock sprang into his fist with a snap.

"There!" he said with apparent excitement. "That's got it!" He hefted the jock like a prize and seemed to be holding it unnecessarily close to his nose. He looked me up and down, eyes lingering at my crotch. "You've got a really great body, Jack!" he whispered, seductively. He licked his lips. There was no doubt about it, he was getting turned on.

I slid my right hand over my hip to my balls, tugging at and repositioning them, my cock rolling around with the motions. He watched in fascination. I fluffed up my cockhair and then grabbed my cock and skinned it back, the enlarging cockhead emerging from folds of skin to look moist and interested. I dropped it against my belly and stretched, drawing in my stomach and pushing up my crotch. Greg didn't miss a thing.

"You... uh... look like you're... uh... horny," he whispered with some hesitancy.

"I'm always horny," I responded with a smile, "aren't you?"

"Yeah," he agreed, softly, and then added, "Always!" excitedly, his hand rubbing absently at his groin.

"Well," I asked boldly, "what are we going to do about it? How much time do we have before the doc gets here?"

"Oh!" he replied with surprise, "I haven't called him, yet."

"You haven't?" I asked with equal surprise. "What are you waiting for?"

"We have to talk about it first," he answered.


"Well, there are two doctors I could call. One is a plastic surgeon who can repair the wound so well that you'd probably see no scarring, and the other is a general surgeon who'll fix you up but leave distinct scarring. You'll have to decide which one you want." He smiled at me.

"Get the plastic surgeon," I said without hesitation.

"Are you certain?" he asked, raising and lowering his eyebrows in a comical way as if knowing something I didn't know.

"Why the hell not?" I asked, curious where this was leading.

"Jack, look at this wound." He reached down and gently lifted the gauze covering the wound. I shifted, raising myself onto my right elbow, turning my left leg slightly, and looked. "The sole of the shoe has made a perfect impression," he said excitedly. "See! Every cut is sharp. The tip of the shoe, here. The next two cleats, here and here. The third set." Each section of the wound was close to one-half inch long and looked to have been cut by a short razor with a round shaft at each end. "It's clearly the imprint of a sport's shoe."

"Well, of course it is," I snapped, but I was fascinated.

"Jack," he said rapidly, "this is better than a tattoo!" He eyes shone with enthusiasm. "Think of it. It's even better than a dueling scar. Whenever you want to get to know someone real well you can tell 'em about being spiked and ask, 'Want to see my scar?' It'll get 'em every time. You'll have to lower your pants. They'll see how muscular you are - this is a great looking thigh - and they'll see your well-filled jockey shorts or jockstrap, and, well, believe me, Jack, you'll have 'em tumbling into bed with you with little difficulty." He grinned up at me, his face near mine bright with excitement. His avoidance of male or female pronouns did not escape me.

"Geez," I whispered absently, "I never woulda thought of that..." I was able to picture the process quickly in my mind's eye as he described it, imagining a procession of horny men falling into bed with me. "Alright," I agreed, "let's call the general surgeon."

"Good boy," he said, and patted my naked hip with a fond familiarity. "But first, we should do something about this." He indicated what "this" was by staring at my crotch. I looked down at myself. My cock had grown to full erection as I had imagined future sexual exploits. It was standing strongly, vibrating with interest, and much too big for either of us to ignore.

I lay back down against the table, shifting my weight so that I was flat on my back, and asked, huskily, "What do you have in mind, Nurse?" I smiled at him.

"Yumm," he signed, leaning his head against my hip, "you smell so good, I think you should first have a complete bath..." He smiled up at me. "...with my tongue!" he added.

"I just played eight innings of ball," I protested, meekly, "I must stink."

"You're perfect, just like you are," he avowed, "just like I like 'em..." His tongue slid onto my hip, near my waist, then slid onto my belly at a spot that tickled so strongly my muscles contracted and my cock vibrated in front of his eyes. "Yeah," he sighed, "just like I like 'em." I realized that, as a nurse, he knew exactly what contact with that spot would do to me. I relaxed. I was in good hands.

His hair brushed my pulsating cock as he slid his tongue down to my crotch, while he breathed heavily, inhaling the raunchy odors of my sweaty balls. "Ummm," he hummed through thick lips as he kissed the flesh at the top of my thigh and pushed his nose against my scrotum, nudging a testicle. It moved erotically in its sac, stimulated by the contact. His nose pressed against cockhair as his tongue lapped its way into the crevice between thigh and scrotum.

I grabbed his shoulder with my left hand and kneaded the flesh through the material of his uniform, encouraging his continued progress. I put my right arm under my head so I could watch what was going on. I spread my legs apart to open myself to his electrically charged tongue, and saw a droplet of clear liquid form in the indentation at the tip of my throbbing cock. I yearned to grab hold and start beating my meat, but withheld my desire and allowed the pleasures to build. And build they did as he slid his flattened tongue against a ball. Then he sucked it gently, expertly, into his mouth. I moaned in delight. The droplet thickened, rolled slowly down the surface of the fat cockhead, and then dripped off, stringing a connective trail as it fell the few inches to my stomach, just above my navel and began pooling there. My other ball was sucked into his hot mouth as he released the first, his chin scratching erotically on my thigh.

Avoiding the gauze covered wound, he licked and sucked the flesh of my left leg down to the ankle and onto the foot. It was electrifying. My cock pulsated with pleasure as he lapped at my toes. He shifted to the other foot and then began his journey back up to my crotch, pausing at the knee to lift my leg and lick the tender backside of the joint. It felt fantastic. He lapped at my thigh, licked past my balls, and pushed into my cockhair, his temple and hair pushing against my stiffly throbbing cock. He kept licking and sucking my flesh as he slowly worked his way to my navel, taking care not to touch my cock with his tongue as his nose pushed it slightly to the side. I watched him slurp and tongue my navel, then plant a big kiss on it with thick lips. He then lapped up the pool of liquid nearby as if it were more sweat, and slid his face upward, onto my chest.

He nipped and tongued my right nipple, sending wave after wave of excitement down into my balls, and he sucked and massaged the entire, meaty, pectoral area of one breast and then leaned over to the other and duplicated his efforts and intensified my pleasure. He licked and sucked at my neck and then dove with a whimper into my exposed, right armpit. The hairy, moist pit must have really turned him on because his right hand was moving crazily all over my torso, caressing every spot it reached with the exception of my cock which he continued carefully to avoid. His other hand withdrew from my arm and I heard a zipper being opened.

Suddenly, he pulled himself off of me and stood straight up. His crotch was inches from my face, the zipper down, his left hand hidden inside the pants. "Oh, Man!" he exclaimed, "You taste so good! Your smells and flavors have really turned my on. I can't help myself. I'm about to shoot a load in my pants."

"Don't waste it," I said with a husky voice, then I licked my lips, lasciviously.

His eyes opened wide. "You mean," he said with awestruck voice, "you would suck my..."

"Pull that dick out and shove it to me," I interrupted. "I'll show you how to handle a load."

Immediately, and with a funny noise in his throat, he leaned in while pulling out his solid erection. It sprang out of the fly, looking red and moist in the bright lights, and was aimed at my mouth. I had to lean only slightly to make contact with the hot flesh. My tongue swirled around the mushroom-shaped, large cockhead, and I sucked the entire glans into my mouth. He stiffened and thrust the cock with a quick hump of his hips. I swallowed and tightened the suctioning grip of my mouth on his cockhead. He grunted and shot a tremendous wad of semen into me. It was hot and thick and tasty. I swallowed and received another tremendous jolt of cum. I swallowed and got a third, then a fourth. I swallowed and felt my mouth fill a final time with several lesser spurts of semen as he grunted and groaned, pumping his hips at me. He pulled back, and I got a better look at his cock as we disconnected. It looked longer than it had felt in my mouth and I wondered what it would be like to spend more time getting to know it better. This had been much too quick.

He wiped off his cock with a damp cloth and put it away as he moved down the table to my thigh. He leaned over, pushed both his hands upward along the sides of my chest as his head got closer and closer to my completely rigid erection. It throbbed under his nose, strained to skin-tight fullness. His mouth was an inch from the shaft. I watched, transfixed, as his tongue slowly eased out and closed the gap between us. The hot, moist pressure on my cockshaft almost made me come. He lifted his eyes to mine and said, "Man! What a cock!"

He kissed it at mid-shaft and sucked on it. Without releasing the pressure, he slowly slid his mouth up the shaft, into the V-shaped flanges of the cockhead and, finally, onto and over the entire glans. His suction was incredible. I felt his tongue swirling madly around the head. I pumped my hips upwards, getting more of my cock into his hot mouth. He cooperated by pressing downwards. The combination of efforts sent my cock to the back of his throat. I watched in fascination as more and more of my cock disappeared into his tight, hot, suctioning mouth. He was a great cocksucker. Skillful, practiced, enthusiastic and eager.

He was able to engulf my entire penis, right down to the balls. I could feel the rough contours of his throat. Immediately, he began riding my cock in a full, deep-throated, tip-to-base effort. I had never watched anyone suck me off in this position before. Just lie back like this, almost relaxed, and look down my naked chest and abs to watch. To see my saliva-shiny cock slide in and out of his tight, suctioning lips as his head bobbed slowly up the thick meat and then back down right to the full balls pressed up tight at the base. It looked so spectacular and gave me such enjoyment, I wanted it to last. But my balls had other ideas and I couldn't help driving my hips up to meet his downward thrusts and suddenly I felt my whole being begin to shudder with the excited certainty that I was about to come. I let my partner know.

"You're gonna get my load, man," I whispered, huskily. He hummed onto my cock, acknowledging my warning. That erotic humming did it. Starting in my toes, and simultaneously in my scalp, a wave of pleasure fired through me into my crotch, rolled through my abdomen, tugged my balls, stiffened my cock and spat out a heavy jolt of cum into his suctioning mouth. That was followed by another jolt, and another, and another, and another. He took them all and sucked for more. Finally, I had to grab the hair on the top of his head with my left hand to indicate that he should stop sucking. My cock was still so rigid I'm sure he felt he could go for another load, immediately.

"Man, that was terrific!" he said enthusiastically. Then, while telling me how seldom he had ever had the opportunity for such a great sexual experience, and how much he enjoyed touching my body as he worked, he filled a pan with warm water and bathed me skillfully from head to toe, gently turning me onto my side to cleanse my back. He didn't miss an inch of flesh. He rinsed and dried me completely and then dressed me in a hospital gown, open down the back. He called the surgeon and, while we waited, cleansed the wound for the second time. Finally, he washed and shaved my leg from crotch to ankle, telling me that the doctor may wish to put the leg in a cast to keep the muscles immobile as they healed.

It turned out that the surgeon, too, liked the idea of a noticeable scar. As he sewed me up, he told me the wounds weren't really so deep as to cause me grave injury. He figured in two or three weeks I'd be playing again. Greg grinned at me at that point and raised and lowered his eyebrows, so I figured I'd be playing in something more like two or three hours. With him. I was right.

* * * * *

The next day, the bandages were removed to let air get at the wound. Two days later I was allowed to go back to my room at the dorm because I was healing so quickly. By the weekend, I felt ready to play ball again, and, as I hadn't seen Greg since leaving the infirmary, I'd already been playing games my fist only partially gratified. On Saturday afternoon, a noise woke me from a nap. I had a giant, leaking erection poking out from under the elastic waistband of my jockeys, the only garment I was wearing. Before I could decide to do something about the erection, there was another knock on my door, and I realized that a knock had awakened me. I called out that the door was unlocked, and stayed in bed, quickly covering myself to mid-chest with a light sheet.

"May I come in?" a quiet voice asked from the doorway as the door pushed open. I wondered who it was, expecting it'd be Greg. I was surprised to see that it was Mike, the shortstop. His school was about one hundred miles away, so he had to have made a special trip just to see me. I was impressed. He was wearing a white, tight, short-sleeved shirt and tan, form hugging, jeans which accentuated a bulging crotch. He looked like an ad for his college - intelligent, athletic, well built and handsome.

"Yes, sure," I said. "Com'on in. I can't believe you're here." I smiled broadly. I was delighted to see him. He looked relieved as he entered, as though he had been expecting me to say "No" and to throw him out. I could smell his cologne as he came towards me. To this day, that smell turns me on and reminds me of him.

"Christ, I'm so sorry..." he started to say in a rush.

I grabbed his wrist as he neared the bed. "It's Okay. It's not as bad as you think. I'm all right. Really! Don't worry." I tried to calm him down. I smiled again at him, looking him in the eye.

"But..." He was looking quizzically into my eyes. Something in the look felt familiar. My heart skipped a beat and my balls started churning.

"Really," I repeated, "I'm fine. I was just having a nap. In fact, your knock saved me from a wet dream." I smiled again.

He smiled back, a devilish glint in his eye. "A... er... a wet dream?" he asked hesitantly. Then he chuckled with me. He flushed and looked excited.

"Yeah, guess I'm horny just lying around waiting to heal. But, tell me," I added with a grin, knowing that Greg had been completely right and that this would be the perfect question, "want to see my scar?"


Jack Sofelot


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