In the bustling heart of Downtown, where the air was a blend of car exhaust and the sweet scent of blooming flowers, Dr. Charles "Chuck" Hartman hurried through the corridors of his small but well-managed clinic. His stethoscope swung rhythmically against his chest, a metronome to his brisk pace. His patients adored his charming smile and confident demeanor, which was as reliable as the ticking of a clock. Above all, they appreciated his punctuality, a rare trait in a doctor. As he approached the end of a long workday, the anticipation of a quiet evening at home with a good book and a cold beer grew stronger.
The reception area was unusually calm for a Friday evening. The last of the patients had been ushered into their respective rooms, and the nurses had begun the meticulous task of organizing medical charts. Dr. Hartman checked his watch - a sleek Rolex that gleamed in the artificial light - and nodded to his assistant. "Send in my final patient, will you?" he said, his voice a gentle rumble that carried an unmistakable hint of fatigue.
The assistant, a young woman with a penchant for efficiency, quickly tapped some keys on her computer and stood. "Doctor Hartman," she called out, her voice echoing down the hall, "your five o'clock is here."
Moments later, a man in his mid-60s strolled in, his snow-white hair a stark contrast against the navy-blue blazer he wore. His square-set jaw and trim beard spoke of a life lived with purpose and discipline. Rusty, as his name tag read, looked more like a retired military general than someone in need of a doctor's care. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the diplomas and certificates that adorned the walls, a silent nod to Dr. Hartman's expertise.
"Rusty," the doctor began with a smile, extending his hand. "What brings you to my clinic today?" He couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. The man's physical presence was something to behold, his muscular frame and upright posture belying his age. It was like shaking hands with a marble statue that had somehow come to life.
The man's grip was firm, almost too firm. "Just the usual, Doc," Rusty replied, his voice a gravelly drawl. "Time for a tune-up, if you catch my drift."
The doctor nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Alright, let's get you into a room," he said, leading the way. As they walked, the silence grew heavier, filled with the unspoken understanding that this was more than just a routine check-up.
Once everyone had left for the day and the clinic had been secured, Dr. Hartman settled into his office chair, feeling the leather embrace him like a well-worn baseball glove. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. This was it - the end of his work week. Or so he thought.
When he opened the patient's file, the words "prostate exam" leaped out at him. He had to suppress a chuckle; it wasn't every day a man like Rusty walked in for such a procedure. Most of his patients were middle-aged women with minor ailments and the occasional hypochondriac. But Dr. Hartman knew better than to underestimate anyone. He cleared his throat and called out, "Rusty, the room is ready."
The door to the exam room opened, and the square-jawed man entered, his steps measured and deliberate. Dr. Hartman gestured to the exam table. "Take a seat," he instructed, trying to keep his gaze from lingering on the muscles that rippled beneath Rusty's shirt. "So, tell me," the doctor began, "What brings you in today?"
Rusty's eyes met his, unflinching. "Well, Doc, I've heard that getting checked out down there can save a man's life. Can't be too careful, right?" His voice was steady, yet there was an underlying seriousness that made Dr. Hartman sit up a little straighter.
The doctor nodded solemnly. "Absolutely. Prostate health is crucial. Let's get started." He took his own advice and opened his lab coat, revealing his own well-defined muscles, a testament to his dedication to fitness. Rusty's expression remained stoic as he began to strip down to his underwear, his physique putting the doctor's to shame.
With a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, Rusty folded his clothes neatly and placed them on the chair. "Now, Doc," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "you wouldn't want me to feel like I'm the only one being vulnerable here, would you?"
Surprised by the request, Dr. Hartman raised an eyebrow but didn't miss a beat. "Alright, Rusty," he said with a chuckle, "you drive a hard bargain." He began to remove his own shirt, exposing a broad chest that was the result of countless hours at the gym. "Fair's fair," he added, his tone light, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the room.
Rusty watched, his expression unreadable, as the doctor continued to undress. The air grew thick with an unspoken challenge, the dynamics of power and vulnerability shifting between them. It was clear that this was no ordinary doctor-patient relationship.
As the last of his garments hit the floor, Dr. Hartman felt a peculiar mix of self-consciousness and excitement. He'd never had a patient ask for this before. It was unorthodox, but he had to admit, the idea of matching strength with the legendary Rusty had a certain allure. He turned to his patient, who was now lying on the exam table, his own underwear the only barrier between them.
"Alright, Rusty," Dr. Hartman said, his voice firm. "Let's do this." He approached the table, his stethoscope now around his neck, his bare feet sinking into the soft, sterile mats that lined the floor. His heart was racing, but his hands remained steady as he began the comprehensive examination.
The room was filled with the sounds of the doctor's instructions and Rusty's deep breaths. The tension grew palpable as the doctor listened to Rusty's heart and lungs, felt his abdomen, and checked his reflexes. Each movement was precise, a dance of professionalism and something... more.
Finally, Dr. Hartman reached for the latex gloves, his gaze meeting Rusty's. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Rusty nodded, his eyes never leaving the doctor's. The moment of truth was upon them, and both men knew it was more than just a medical procedure that was about to unfold.
The exam itself was thorough and professional, despite the unusual circumstances. Dr. Hartman's touch was gentle, his movements efficient as he palpated the area in question. Rusty lay still, his face a mask of concentration. But there was an unmistakable energy between them, a silent dialogue that transcended the cold, clinical setting.
As the doctor finished, Rusty let out a sigh of relief. "Looks like I'm good to go," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He sat up and began to dress, his eyes never leaving the doctor's face. "Thanks for the thorough check-up, Doc," he said, his voice filled with a newfound respect.
Dr. Hartman nodded, his own heart still racing. He had done his job, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed in the room. He handed Rusty a clean pair of gloves. "Why don't you return the favor?" he said, his tone a mix of challenge and curiosity.
Rusty's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I thought you'd never ask," he replied, his voice low and gruff. He took the gloves and stepped closer to the doctor, his movements now mirroring Dr. Hartman's earlier examination. The air was charged with a strange anticipation, and the doctor found himself holding his breath.
Their eyes locked as Rusty's gloved hands began to explore, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his formidable strength. Dr. Hartman felt his own muscles tense, his body responding in ways that had nothing to do with medicine. The room seemed to shrink around them, the rest of the world fading away.
When Rusty instructed Dr. Hartman to bend over the examination table, the doctor felt a peculiar mix of trepidation and excitement. He had never had a patient take the reins quite so... personally. Yet, there was something undeniably compelling about the man's confidence. With a deep breath, he leaned over the cold, metal edge, his bare chest pressing against the crinkled paper.
Rusty's hand was firm and steady as it reached out, grasping the bottle of medical lubricant that sat on the stainless steel tray. He squirted a generous amount onto his gloved fingers, the sound echoing in the sterile silence of the room. Dr. Hartman felt the cool liquid dribble down the cleft of his buttocks and pool at his anus. His body tightened involuntarily, bracing for the unknown.
"Just relax, Doc," Rusty murmured, his voice soothing despite the situation's unorthodoxy. The doctor felt the tip of a finger press against his opening, the lube easing the way. It was a gentle intrusion, a promise of what was to come. The pressure increased, and with a slow, deliberate push, Rusty breached his barrier. Dr. Hartman gritted his teeth, his muscles protesting the unfamiliar sensation.
But what followed was not the cold, clinical touch of an anal probe. Instead, it was the blunt, unmistakable pressure of something much larger. His eyes widened in shock as he realized the truth - Rusty had not stopped at his hips. His heart raced as he felt the unmistakable presence of the older man's erection pressing into him, thick and insistent.
With a powerful thrust, Rusty buried himself to the hilt. Dr. Hartman's groan was a mix of surprise and pleasure, his body stretching to accommodate the unyielding length. The initial shock gave way to a strange, thrilling sensation, as if he was crossing a line he never knew existed. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the professional detachment he had always maintained with the raw, carnality of the moment.
Rusty's hands tightened on his hips, holding him in place as he began to move. Each stroke was slow and deliberate, a masterful dance of control and submission. The doctor's world narrowed to the rhythm of their bodies, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the burning pleasure that grew with each thrust. He felt the tension in his muscles give way, his body responding to the intrusion with a primal need to be filled.
The room was a haze of white-hot sensation, the scent of antiseptic and latex mingling with the musk of arousal. Dr. Hartman's eyes squeezed shut as Rusty's pace increased, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The doctor's own hand reached down to grip the side of the exam table, knuckles white with the effort to stay still.
The sound of their breaths filled the air, punctuated by the occasional grunt from Rusty and the doctor's soft moans. The exam room had transformed into a cocoon of desire, the line between doctor and patient, professional and personal, blurring beyond recognition. It was a transgressive act, one that would change the course of their lives forever.
The doctor's thoughts swirled in a tornado of confusion and excitement. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, yet so alive. Rusty's movements grew more urgent, the tempo of his thrusts increasing. The doctor's body responded, his hips moving in counterpoint to Rusty's, a silent agreement to this unexpected intimacy.
The tension grew, a coil winding tighter and tighter in his gut. He could feel his climax approaching, a wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. Rusty seemed to sense it, his grip on the doctor's hips becoming bruising as he pounded into him, driving him closer and closer to the edge.
The moment came with a cry that was part pleasure, part surprise. Chuck's body jerked as he came, his orgasm tearing through him like a tempest. The head of Rusty's cock struck his prostate with the precision of a maestro, and the resulting spasms of pleasure were so intense that he feared his heart might give out. His cum shot out in ropes, painting the sterile metal of the exam table with sticky white streaks.
Rusty groaned in response, his own orgasm triggered by the doctor's involuntary clench. The older man's thick, hot seed filled Chuck to the brim, and the excess spilled out, mingling with his own. The sound of their breaths filled the room, ragged and desperate, as they both rode the crest of their shared pleasure.
As the intensity of their climaxes ebbed, the reality of what they had just done began to set in. The doctor felt a strange mix of satisfaction and embarrassment. He had never allowed a patient to touch him so intimately, much less take him like this. But there was something about Rusty, something that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years.
They remained in that position for a moment, Rusty's cock still lodged deep within him, both men panting and trembling. Then, with a final, gentle thrust, Rusty withdrew, the absence leaving Chuck feeling both empty and exposed. He stood, his legs shaky, and turned to face his patient, unsure of what to say or do next.
The silence stretched out, taut as a bowstring, until Rusty finally spoke. "Guess I owe you one, Doc," he said, his voice a low rumble filled with amusement. He tossed the soiled gloves into the medical waste bin and began to dress, his movements casual and unhurried.
Dr. Hartman stared at him, his mind racing. This was not how he had planned to end his workday, and certainly not how he had ever imagined conducting a prostate exam. But as he watched Rusty button his shirt, he knew that he didn't regret a single second of it. In fact, a part of him was already eager for the next time.
The doctor took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Well, Rusty," he said, his voice a little shakier than he would have liked, "I suppose we'll just have to schedule another appointment to discuss the results."
Rusty's eyes twinkled. "Looking forward to it, Doc," he said, and there was something in his tone that made Chuck's pulse quicken all over again. As the man left the room, the doctor couldn't help but wonder if he had just embarked on the most unconventional patient-doctor relationship of his career.
*****
Two weeks had passed since that fateful evening, and the memory of their encounter had become an ever-present undercurrent in Dr. Hartman's thoughts. His days were filled with the usual flurry of patients and paperwork, but it was the quiet moments that brought the vivid images of Rusty's powerful body and demanding touch rushing back. The anticipation of their next appointment had become a sweet torment, a secret thrill that no one else knew about.
When the clock finally ticked down to five, the clinic emptied out with the usual flurry of goodbyes and the click-clack of heels on the polished floor. The doctor took a moment to straighten his tie in the mirror, his reflection revealing a man who looked more like a college student than a doctor in his mid-30s. He could feel his heart thud against his ribcage as the door to his office swung open.
Rusty strode in, looking as robust and self-assured as ever. The doctor's eyes traveled over the man's physique, noticing how the fabric of his shirt stretched tautly over his chest, hinting at the strength beneath. "Good to see you again, Doc," Rusty said, his voice a gruff purr.
"Likewise, Rusty," Dr. Hartman replied, his voice steady despite the racing of his pulse. "How have you been?"
The older man shrugged, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Can't complain," he said. "But I think it's time for that follow-up you mentioned."
Without waiting for a response, Rusty began to undress, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The doctor felt a familiar stirring in his loins as the muscular frame was revealed, a canvas of tanned skin and sinew. It was as if the universe had conspired to place him in this very moment, with this very man.
As Rusty lay on the exam table, the doctor approached, his eyes lingering on the older man's cock, which was already beginning to thicken with arousal. He felt a thrill of power at the sight, knowing that he was the cause of such a potent reaction. But it was also mixed with a hint of trepidation, the memory of their last encounter reminding him of the unpredictable nature of their arrangement.
"Ready, Doc?" Rusty's voice was a challenge, a question that held the promise of a world of pleasure and pain. The doctor swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "More than you know," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Rusty's.
The air grew thick with anticipation as Dr. Hartman donned a fresh pair of gloves, the snap echoing through the silent room. Rusty's gaze remained fixed on him, the intensity of his stare making the doctor's skin prickle with excitement. The doctor stepped closer, his own erection straining against the fabric of his scrubs.
The exam began with a tenderness that surprised both men. Rusty's eyes fluttered shut as Dr. Hartman's lubricated fingers explored his anus, the doctor's touch gentle yet firm. The older man's breaths grew ragged, his hips lifting slightly to meet each probing digit. It was a delicate dance, a silent negotiation of power and trust.
But the tenderness was short-lived. Rusty's hand shot out, grabbing the doctor's wrist and guiding him deeper. "I didn't come here for a massage," he growled, his voice a command that sent a bolt of desire through Chuck's body. The doctor's eyes widened, but he didn't resist, his own need for control slipping away as he succumbed to the raw desire that pulsed between them.
The room was alive with the sound of their harsh breaths and the rustle of the exam paper beneath them. Rusty's grip on the doctor's wrist tightened, his hips bucking as the doctor's fingers danced over his prostate. The doctor could feel his own erection growing painfully hard, straining for release.
With a suddenness that took his breath away, Rusty sat up and spun him around, pushing him onto the cold, unyielding surface of the exam table. Dr. Hartman's heart raced as he looked down at the older man, who was now lying beneath him, his eyes blazing with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"Strip," Rusty ordered roughly, his voice a gravelly command that sent a shiver down Chuck's spine. The doctor's hands trembled slightly as he complied, his clothes falling away in a heap at his feet. He was acutely aware of his own nakedness, his vulnerability laid bare in the stark, clinical lighting.
"Now, climb up here and straddle me," Rusty instructed, his voice low and urgent. The doctor obeyed without question, his legs shaking as he positioned himself over the older man's thick, erect cock. The heat of it was like a brand against his thigh, a promise of the pleasure to come.
As Rusty guided him into place, the doctor felt the tip of his cock brush against his entrance, sending a bolt of electricity through his body. He gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as Rusty's hands gripped his hips, holding him steady. "I want you to ride me this evening," Rusty murmured, his breath hot against Chuck's skin. "Cum all over my chest, like the wild animal you are."
The doctor's eyes snapped open, his pupils dilated with a mix of fear and desire. He had never felt so wanted, so... claimed. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through him, and he leaned forward, bracing his hands on Rusty's broad shoulders. He took a deep breath and lowered himself onto the older man's cock, the feeling of being filled so completely nearly overwhelming.
The sound of Rusty's groan was like music to his ears as the older man's cock slid into him, inch by agonizing inch. The doctor's body protested at first, but he soon found a rhythm, his hips moving in a sensual grind that had the muscles in Rusty's arms tensing. The man beneath him was a force of nature, his body demanding and unyielding.
The room was filled with the sound of their harsh breaths and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. Each thrust sent a shiver of pleasure through Chuck, his body responding with an instinctual need to move, to take more. His muscles clenched around Rusty's cock, the sensation so intense that he could feel every vein, every pulse.
Their eyes met, and in that moment, it was as if time had stopped. There was nothing but the two of them, locked in this dance of dominance and submission. The doctor's hands roamed over Rusty's chest, feeling the powerful muscles contract and release beneath his touch. It was intoxicating, a heady cocktail of power and need.
Rusty's grip tightened on his hips, his eyes never leaving Chuck's. "That's it, Doc," he murmured. "Take it all." And with each word, the doctor felt himself losing a little more of his grip on reality, falling into a world where the only thing that mattered was the pleasure that Rusty could give him.
Their rhythm grew more frantic, their bodies moving together in a silent symphony of desire. The doctor could feel the pressure building inside him, his orgasm drawing closer with each powerful thrust. He threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter.
And then, with a cry that was almost a scream, he came. His body spasmed, his muscles clamping down on Rusty's cock as he rode the wave of pleasure that crashed over him. He felt the warmth of his release splatter across the older man's chest, the salty tang of it mixing with the scent of sweat and sex. Rusty bucked as he shot his bolt, filling the doctor's chute to overflowing once again.
The room was silent except for their ragged breaths, their hearts hammering in unison. Rusty's eyes remained on him, his gaze filled with something that looked a lot like pride. And as the doctor collapsed onto him, his body boneless and spent, he knew that he had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.
But as he felt Rusty's arms wrap around him, holding him close, he realized that he didn't care.
The doctor took a moment to compose himself, his heart still racing from the intensity of their encounter. Rusty's words hung in the air like a challenge, a declaration of intent that was as surprising as it was thrilling. He had never allowed a patient to get this close, to invade his personal space in such a way. But the idea of spending the night in the arms of this enigmatic man was too tempting to resist.
With trembling hands, Dr. Hartman began to gather his clothes, his mind racing with the implications of what was to come. The silence between them was thick, pregnant with the promise of something more than a simple doctor-patient relationship. He could feel the older man's gaze on him as he dressed, the heat of it a palpable thing that made his skin tingle.
"I don't normally do this, Rusty," he said, his voice a little hoarse.
Rusty's laugh was low and knowing. "That's what makes it so much fun," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now, let's get you dressed, Doc. I've got a nice, big bed waiting for us."
The doctor felt a flush rise to his cheeks, his cock twitching at the thought of what was to come. He had never been so eager to leave work, to leave the safety and order of his clinic for the uncharted territory of a man's arms. But as he locked the door behind them, the weight of the world slipped away, leaving only the thrill of the unknown.
*****
The drive to Rusty's home was a blur of neon lights and the throb of the bass from the radio. The doctor couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive, so ... wanted. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms slick with anticipation. What was it about this man that made him feel so alive, so reckless?
When they arrived at Rusty's apartment, the doctor felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. He had been to patient's homes before, but never like this. The place was surprisingly neat and well-kept, the scent of leather and old books filling the air. It was a stark contrast to the sterile environment of the clinic, and he found himself drawn to the warmth and comfort it offered.
In the bedroom, the lights were dim, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The bed was massive, the covers thrown back to reveal crisp, white sheets that seemed to call out to them. Rusty took his hand, leading him to the edge of the bed with a firmness that was both reassuring and thrilling.
"Strip," Rusty ordered, his voice a low rumble. The doctor's hands trembled as he complied, his clothes falling away to reveal his naked body. He felt a strange mix of vulnerability and power as Rusty's gaze roamed over him, his eyes dark with desire.
The older man stepped closer, his own clothes joining the pile on the floor. His body was a testament to a life well-lived, each muscle etched with experience and strength. Dr. Hartman couldn't help but stare, his mouth watering at the sight.
Rusty climbed onto the bed, his movements fluid and graceful despite his size. He lay back, his arms open in a silent invitation. The doctor's legs felt like jelly as he approached, his heart hammering in his chest. He had never felt so much like prey, so much like he was being claimed by something wild and untamed.
And as he slid into bed beside Rusty, their bodies entwined, he knew that he was giving himself over to something that was beyond his understanding. But in that moment, all that mattered was the heat of the man beside him, the beat of his heart, and the promise of the night ahead.
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