It was early October when my best friend Bo was playing with his league hockey team and incurred a bizarre injury; a wild stick, a loose cup, a forceful impact between his legs. The force dislodged both his jock strap and cup and so severely injured his smaller left testicle that less than a week later a routine follow-up resulted in an urgent order that it was to be removed. “Failure to thrive” or some such medical determination when the damaged precious jewel did not heal and began necrosis in his sac; the race was on then to remove it before serious complications could occur. Such a race in fact that there was no time for depression over the semi-emasculation; it was simply a medical imperative and the emotional fall-out followed.
Bo is a jock through and through; he regularly engages in five or six sports and dabbles in four or five others. He’s also single, affluent, educated, attractive, built, and not to ruin the vibe but he’s straight. That should be read: he’s very active with the ladies; so this injury hits home. Well for any of us men it would; wouldn’t it?
I’d recently had a testicle scare that was nothing more than a knot in my cords thank goodness. But that’s where my head was; there but for the grace of god and all that as Bo as manically explaining on the phone. He was terrified. I needed to GO!
I arrived after catching a flight to Jersey in a mad dash; I’d called back when I was already in my seat on the plane certain I’d made it because I’d thought I wouldn’t; and the next flight would get me in about seven hours later. My call confirmed he’d probably be in surgery at Trinitas before I got into Newark airport; but I’d likely be there when he got to the recovery room. They were only waiting for an OR slot and an available surgeon. I didn’t want to speculate on how long it took to butcher a man’s most private parts.
Bo and I were like brothers; had been for thirty years. We met in the army and found we’d grown-up not far from each other. Talk of Jersey memories when we were far from home were the foundation; but we were much alike and built a strong friendship which lasted through those days after the army when we were without social media to keep-up. When I “went gay” Bo was surprised but supportive; he’d availed himself of willing cock-suckers in the army as I had but like me up until my really bad marriage he was still straight through and through.
My memories of Bo and me over the decades swirled in my head as I sat in the waiting room not paying attention to my audio-book unfurling a complicated plot in my ears. We were cocky young army recruits, then single men out of the army, made tons of bad choices separately and together, both ended-up in bad marriages, had kids … I had to stop; his non-relationship with his son and my loss of my oldest son weren’t places I needed to go when I was waiting to hear that the surgery went okay; that Bo was okay because he’d made it through a surgery to give-up one of his balls!
But he did. And more hours of waiting followed after he was finally taken to a room as he dozed and woke and groggily worked his body through the after-effects of the anesthesia. The hospital staff even brought me a dinner when they brought his to his room. Uh … thank you? But I was ravenous and ate more of the terrible meal than Bo.
His first dark joke was many hours later. It pushed me into a more comfortable place; at least I knew we were moving forward and getting it out. “I’m half a man; I only need to eat half.”
I started to reproach him for that and he said, “Just kidding bro. I’m not happy about it but I’d have been less happy if I was dead. But this food? Christ on a bike! Makes me reconsider!” He had a point.
Finally I took my duffel bag and took my leave at his urging. I was going to stay at Bo’s place; in my haste to leave or in the many hours at the hospital I hadn’t made any reservation and he insisted I use his condo when he was awake and coherent enough. He told me where they’d put his bag with his wallet and keys and told me where he thought his car was parked. I didn’t want to look for an unfamiliar car in the ER parking lot after ten at night so I went Uber; I’d get the car sorted in the daylight the next day.
When I got to Bo’s condo building I was a bit awed. It was new and seemed very luxurious. It was confirmed inside; from the lobby to his hallway on the top floor. And his half of the top floor was not only vast but very nice indeed.
But mostly I was awed by another resident who was coming up from the gym when the elevator opened for me to head up. Thirtyish, exceptionally fit and muscular, shoulders for days and well-displayed in a skin-tight tank soaked with sweat, compression shorts which showed an ass and sweat stain up his crack both to die for, and thick dark curly but close-cropped hair on his head, same on his arms, legs, upper chest and clearly a thick trail under that tight shirt. Blue eyes would have sealed the deal; instead it was his overt cruising of me. And his eyes resting for an extra beat in the prominent bulge that was unavoidable in the tactical pants I was wearing; and then a grin as his eyes returned to mine. If only I wasn’t running on my last energy bar like my phone.
I was too beat to care beyond noticing that my dick was going hard and there was nothing I could do about it. When he commented on my endowment on the short ride to the fourth floor I quickly explained my predicament and offered to put my number under his door in the morning. “Old school,” he said. “Okay man; I’m in 4D.” He gave my dick a squeeze as the doors opened on his floor and told me he hoped I’d follow-up. I was too tired to be bothered by his mis-use of the term; I would indeed follow-through.
I did take notice of Bo’s sumptuous top-floor condo when I stumbled in. One of only two on the floor it was vast, expensively appointed and furnished, and had views for days. This was new since we’d moved to Florida; Bo was doing well for himself!
I figured out the electronic controls on the fancy shower in the guest suite wet-room and crashed in the guest bedroom; the guest suite was a twin to the master I later discovered. I had called home from the Uber; I was out by the time I’d gotten my feet on the king-sized bed.
I hadn’t closed the electric shades and my room faced east. Thus I was awakened bluntly by the sun. I turned the other way, clamped one of the too-many pillows over my face, and slept another few hours.
My turn to be groggy. I called home and talked to Kent; Daniel was long gone at work so I texted him. Another trip to the Disneyland wet-room as I thought of it and I began to feel … even.
I called Bo while I dressed. I’d missed the doctors who made rounds. He’d likely be released “in a few days.” Since it was now Friday I knew that meant Monday earliest. I told Bo I’d be there by eleven, checked the markets, and read some news in his big open kitchen-dining-living room before I left for the hospital. It would have been nice to sit out on his long balcony but it was too damn cold!
I stopped on four and put my number under the door to 4D. It was late enough it was a good bet he’d gone to work; but what was his name? That I didn’t remember. Was I sure it was 4D? Fuck it! If this is the universe keeping me from getting laid so be it.
I did find Bo’s Maserati convertible in the ER parking lot before I went into the hospital. Yeah; Bo was doing VERY well for himself! I’d taken one of Bo’s coats to wear over my hoodie; fortunately because it was about forty-eight degrees out and I would have frozen walking around the lot clicking his remote over and over again! I paid the parking tab, moved the car to the regular visitor’s lot about a quarter-mile away, put the top up that he’d left down, and on the third try pushed the right button the right way to lock the car.
I did omit one thing I’d done when I was still at Bo’s; I’d downloaded Grindr and Scruff and had set-up profiles. To the point: horny top away from home looking for a clean tight hole. I’d put a pic of my hard dick Daniel had taken; when he first moved in with us he was obsessed with a fascination for my big dick and my husband’s humongous one. Apparently it worked; eight messages when I checked after parking.
The last one had just come in was five hundred feet away; a stunning nude body shot from behind showed a hairy bubble butt high and tight my aching balls and lonely dick wouldn’t say no to. Add a Muscle & Fitness back, a chestnut landing patch, and amazing hamstrings. On PrEP and clean; SOLD!
In less than two messages I was following detailed instructions to a stairwell in one of the hospital buildings. Six minutes to get there and the twenty-seven-year-old stud who was waiting for me made me consider pinching myself.
“Al?” he asked.
“Jay?” I asked back. He held his badge out and sure enough.
He was wearing scrubs and had a stethoscope partially out of his side pocket. I hadn’t seen the badge for long enough to be impressed that I was about to raw-dog and seed a doctor. And if there was any doubt, he’d pulled down his scrub pants and bent over a stair railing with that beautiful hairy bubble butt from the pic pushed out. “I can’t be long!” he said.
He was wearing a jock strap which increased the surge of blood to my already-hard dick. Braving the icy air I got my dick out of my tactical pants and got behind him. I leaned forward and drooled on his crack and worked it against his pucker with my dick-knob. I drooled some more on my knob and pushed; hard.
“FUCK! Dude you’re huge.”
“Thanks,” I replied sardonically and shoved again and broke through.
“FUCK MEEEEE!”
“On it,” I assured him and he howled as I began to pound him.
“Fuck dude yeah man get me fuckin’ pregnant daddy!”
He was tight as hell; but it wasn’t his first rodeo by far. He grunted with every thrust and moaned with every withdrawal. Some part of my brain wondered if we’d end our trick in jail for lewd public conduct; my balls didn’t give one fuck.
“Knock me up fucker!” he urged me.
I growled and slammed him harder. “You want it whore? Take it from me. Milk my balls dry if you can.”
This fucker was one for a challenge. It felt like he activated a milking machine in that man-puss of his and suddenly I was working to pull out and feeling his chute pull me back in.
“You want my load fucker? You think you deserve my seed?”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh god yes! Gimme those babies you hot fuck.”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I cried out as my body was overcome by the explosion in my balls. I shoved deep and jabbed once twice and again and again as I grunted and drained my balls spurt by spurt!
“Hell yeah!” he groaned as he took it. And when I was finishing he reached back and grabbed my ass and held me in him. “Not yet; let me feel full for another minute.”
We panted there like that; for longer than a minute.
Finally he moved a bit; signaling. I withdrew and he then began quickly moving and got out of his laceless sneakers and out of his scrub pants. He had something papery or plasticy in his hand he’d taken from his pocket which I saw as he opened them were men’s Depends. He was intent but looked up. “I was a Boy Scout,” he said with a wink and pulled them up over his still-in-place jock strap. “Scrubs and jock straps; bad combo for a cum-slut like me!”
“You didn’t cum,” I said without any inflection.
“Is that okay?” he asked getting back into his scrubs. “You blew enough in me for both of us.” I didn’t reason how that made sense.
“Is it okay with you?” I asked.
He grinned as he got his sneakers back on; obviously the new kind you can step in without breaking down the back. “I got what I wanted.” He turned to go but stopped and turned back. Damn he was handsome … and younger than my kids! “Next time I’ll make sure we have enough time to let you fuck a load or two out of me if you want.” And without waiting for a reaction he was gone.
When I was getting out of the elevator after the walk to Bo’s part of the hospital my app thunked with a message; I wasn’t signed in so guessed it was him. “No words Al! Meant it about next time if your down.”
I cringed at the misuse of the word; that stuff bothers the hell out of me. But my dick instructed my fingers and I was replying to him. “I’m here for a few days. I have a place or don’t mind CUMMING to you.” Cheesy I know.
His message back was obviously a phone number; I recognized the area code. I copied the number, closed the app, and texted him. “Will text you later or tomorrow.”
“My cunts yours anytime!” I forced myself to overlook the new mistake. You can do it Al!
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