Drop and Give Me 50

Chapter 29: Hi Paul

After Brent’s revelations of the evening, Dad and I had plenty to discuss on our Zoom call. It’s weird to think that he is three hours behind us. San Francisco seemed so far away both physically and metaphorically. He reiterated the invitation for Brent to join me for Spring Break, and with Brent being out to his parents, the idea wasn’t as farfetched as it seemed just a day before. He let me know that mom had called him. He said their conversation was stilted but saved by their mutual efficiency for logistics and the need to coordinate the Spring Break trip. I was glad to know mom was on board and supportive.

The school day went by a lot faster with the ability to text Brent. Being able to see my phone as something other than a leash attached to my parents made it more of a prize. But the day was antsy. My balls ached. I had not cum since Sunday afternoon right before Brent left to have dinner with his parents. My training routine was in high gear. My dick was exhausted, and my balls felt like they could explode at any moment. After practice, I headed straight for Dr. Grant’s office for my appointment.

Dr. Grant: OK. You know the routine.

I headed to the shower, got undressed, and momentarily paused while I waited for my dick to piss on command.

Dr. Grant: There might be some improvement. But if so, it’s not in any way transformative. The pattern is improved, but not to the degree it really changes anything for you.

Me: Kinda depressing after everything we have done so far.

Dr. Grant: Come on. Get cleaned up. I have a plan.

I showered and walked to the exam room feeling somewhat defeated.

Dr. Grant: We are going to switch gears here. You’ve been doing the sounding two or three times a week. It’s helping, but not to the degree we had both hoped for. On a positive note, you haven’t developed any infections or complications. So, I think the answer is for you to move to a once-a-day treatment. What this means is that you are going to have to self-administer the therapy. What I’m going to do is train you on the proper procedure. You are going to do it to yourself today while I watch and make sure you are doing it correctly. Then I am sending you home with a set of sounds. You are going to need to do this to yourself every day and remember not to push things too hard. You have to be patient.

Dr. Grant took me through the steps, and although I much preferred having him do it, the thought of accelerating my progress gave me some hope. I managed to move up one size, and the dilation felt good. With the ache in my balls, there was no holding back my erection, and it was everything I could do not to trigger a torrent of cum.

Dr. Grant: OK. That was good. I think you’ve got it down. Any questions?

Me: Nope. I’m pretty clear on what to do.

Dr. Grant: Alright. Time to drop and give me 50. You ready?

Me: We’ll see.

Dr. Grant started the metronome and began barking out the count. At first, it seemed easy. I was holding the ten second count with minimal effort. But the look on Dr. Grant’s face was starting to shift from medical documentation to a combination of admiration and sexual amusement. The tip of my cock was glistening with precum as the fluid that had built up over the last few days was aching for release. I leaned back on my elbows and held Dr. Grant’s gaze as a smirk developed on my face. My newfound skill filled me with pride. That I could control my dick to this degree was certainly an accomplishment. I was showing off, and Dr. Grant seemed to like it.

As we hit the late thirties, I was getting close to my limit. My breathing started to get strained, and my cocky demeaner was falling apart. I was still holding strong to the ten count, but my gut was starting to spasm and it was taking every ounce of concentration I had to maintain the contraction. We had never gone this long. I was never even close to the goal of doing 50. The duration of the exercise built up a tension in the air that Dr. Grant and I had never experienced together. He was playing the role of coach to the hilt, screaming, and yelling for me to push myself harder.

Dr. Grant: 45, 2, 3, 4. . . .Go! Go! You got this. Don’t stop. Squeeze. Rest. Whoa, five more. This is the day. OK. Ready? 46, 2, 3, 4. . . .

I was nearly in tears pushing myself this hard. I was curious as to Dr. Grant’s state of erection but forced my mind off the topic not wanting any distractions to get in the way of reaching the goal. I had never been this horned up without even touching myself. The physical exhaustion was excruciating, but the sexual tension was like a drug. I was high as a kite. As the endorphins kicked in, I got a second wind. The strain was still there, but the doubts were not. I was going to do this.

Dr. Grant: 49, 2, 3, 4. . . .Fuck yeah! One more. It’s in you. Ready, and 50, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Holy shit!

I collapsed in exhaustion, but almost broke my jaw I smiled so hard. As my breath was coming under control, I sat up and saw the stunned look on Dr. Grant’s face. He was more than just proud. He was hungry with sexual desire. I looked down at his crotch, and the cum stain way over by his trouser pocket was bigger than ever.

Me: So, what’s my prize for getting to 50?

Dr. Grant: Oh, I don’t know.

Me: Maybe I can get more than just a finger for my prostate massage?

Dr. Grant: That wouldn’t be very clinical now would it?

Me: Clearly, I’m not the only one who is about to explode here.

Wordlessly, Dr. Grant pulled out the stirrups, lifted my legs and positioned my ass for assault. He hung his white coat on the back of the door. As he loosened his tie, he pulled it over his head and unbuttoned his shirt. It was clear, the doctor/patient relationship was over. This man was about to fuck me silly. As the last sock was dropped on the pile of clothes, he grabbed a condom, sacked up his raging cock, and smothered it in lube. He went behind me and adjusted the back of the seat so I was in a full, upright position.

Dr. Grant: Ready for your prize?

Me: Fuck yeah!

Darren made taking that cock look easy, but when faced with the actual prospect of opening my ass up that wide, I was overcome with fear. It was like the sensation of rethinking the rollercoaster ride just as you got to the top of that first hill and came around the corner for the dive-bombing thrill of your life. Dr. Grant stared directly in my eyes as he slowly increased the pressure at my hole. He knew the initial jolt was going to be a shock, and he wanted to see every bit of pain I suffered for the sake of the pleasure that would follow.

A month ago, I was a boy. I had no agency over my sexuality, mainly because I didn’t even realize what it was. I was horny with no outlet. I was ready for something but conflicted as to what that could or should be. But today, I was a man. A man worthy of his sexuality. Worthy of the pleasure that was about to become me. Worthy of the fuck this beautiful man was about to inflict on me. Worthy of a life full of pleasure, love, commitment, and even silly, stupid, ill-advised sex, like what was knocking on my eager ass. My eyes locked onto Dr. Grant’s. The look of anticipation gave him permission to push through. He reached around grabbing the top of my thighs and sent that battering ram crashing through the door of my childhood. Boy no more.

Me: FUCK!!! Keep going.

Dr. Grant: There’s plenty more where that came from.

Me: I’m counting on it.

After overcoming the initial resistance, Dr. Grant slowly slid a few more inches inside of me. Clearly, my hole was doing something for him as he leaned his head back and exhaled deeply. Maybe Darren’s hole wasn’t that tight anymore, and Dr. Grant was reliving his days when the holes he fucked were closer to their virgin-status tightness. With the strength I had built up from the Kegel exercises, I was able to clinch down on his cock using the walls of my ass like a vice grip on his shaft. The sense of fullness and pressure was mashing up against my prostate. This was better than any finger. I breathed deeply to stave off my hair-trigger orgasm as Dr. Grant slowly sank his entire dick into me.

I didn’t dare touch my dick. If I had, it would have been all over. With the pressure on my prostate, I was already spewing precum in amounts I had never seen before. My abs tickled as the runny fluid rolled down my sides. The pause in action was like the calm at a rodeo right before the gate is flung open. I gave a slight nod, and Dr. Grant swung his hips back and started pounding my ass like a bull that had just received a jolt of electricity to his balls.

The pain was overwhelming at first but conveniently provided enough distraction to ward off immediate rocket fire. We never closed our eyes. We were glued to each other like we were in a staring contest. The trick for me was how long I could take this and how long I could hold back the floodgates. It was a day of endurance. Like the second wind during my Kegel exercises, I willed my ass to the task at hand. I focused on Dr. Grant’s face. The line of his jaw. The outline of his beard growth. The intense blueness of his eyes. The flare of his nostrils as he rammed the weight of his body against my ass. I clenched down hard doubling the friction of his thrusts. He matched my efforts by slamming even harder so as not to diminish the pace.

Instinctively, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. The cum fountain was seemingly endless. Not spurts, but a continuous stream of sticky liquid that covered my entire face. Like a waiter at a fine restaurant scaping crumbs off a linen tablecloth, I reached up to my face and started scooping the cum into my mouth. Without any interruption to the pace, Dr. Grant kept fucking my hole with the precision of the metronome on his phone. As I opened my eyes, I saw a look of shock like he had never seen so much cum in his life, and maybe he hadn’t. I knew from the video that this guy was the Olympic champ of cum shots, and the fact that I had impressed him so much was quite a victory.

With the precision that can only come from years of practice, Dr. Grant quickly removed his dick from my ass, ripped the condom off and within just a couple of strokes let out a series of volleys that rivaled what I had seen in the “10” video. He expertly aimed them right at my eager open mouth. I held it agape receiving everything he had to offer. When the fireworks subsided, I closed my lips and swallowed an overflowing mouthful of cum. After licking my lips, a smile emerged. Dr. Grant’s traded his look of shock for a smile matching my own.

Dr. Grant: God-fucking-damnit. Where the hell did all of that come from?

Me: You told me to practice. I always do what my doctor tells me to.

Dr. Grant: Well, you took that protein shake like a champ.

Me: My urination pattern may still need some work, but I think my cumshots are definitely making progress.

Dr. Grant: I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like a firehose. Damn, that was impressive.

Me: You pumped out a mouthful yourself.

Dr. Grant: Will Brent be angry?

Me: Angry that he wasn’t invited, sure. He teases me constantly about my treatments. But he has certainly benefited from them. When he saw pictures of you and Darren in the house, he kept thinking of things that were wrong with his dick so he could come see you for a full examination.

Dr. Grant: We’ll have to make it up to him somehow.

Me: You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can think of something.

Dr. Grant: Go get cleaned up. You are covered in slime. Meet you out front.

That was one of the most satisfying showers of my life. I had just had mouth-gushing sex with the all-American, apple-pie version of a Greek god! My head was light, and my stomach was sloshing with buckets of cum.

Dr. Grant: Darren and I are going skiing in Aspen in a few weeks. Would you be interested in house sitting?

Me: Oh yeah!

Dr. Grant: It will be a full week, not just a weekend. Will your mom be OK with that?

Me: I’ll talk with her, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Oh, wait! What are the dates on your trip. I am going to San Francisco for Spring Break.

Dr. Grant: Very end of February into that first week in March.

Me: Perfect. That doesn’t overlap with Spring Break. Count me in.

Dr. Grant: So, San Francisco? That’s not a very Spring Break-like destination.

Me: Oh, I haven’t caught you up. I asked my mom about my dad. He’s alive. Turns out, they got divorced because he was gay. I called him Monday night and we met for the first time by Zoom. The divorce was two months before I was born. He had never even seen me until two days ago. He has a husband named Charles and a dog named Jake. They invited Brent and me out to San Francisco for Spring Break. Actually, that’s not true. I invited myself and they agreed.

Dr. Grant: That is big news. You’ve got some major life changes going on.

Me: During the call, I came out to my dad and told him about Brent. I wasn’t expecting to do that, but it was just the vibe of the moment. Then, I went downstairs and told my mom.

Dr. Grant: Oh wow, this is going really fast.

Me: That’s only half the story. Brent came out to his parents last night. He admitted to his dad that he had watched his porn stash and used that as leverage to get a phone that his parents didn’t monitor. Now we can text each other in privacy. Brent’s parents were actually relieved in that they were worried their son was as boring as his text messages. His mom claimed she knew.

Dr. Grant: You are just full of surprises today.

Me: Well, that leads me to my next question. Brent and I are still in the closet at school. We are open with ourselves and our parents, and you, but we are questioning going beyond that. Any advice?

Dr. Grant: Is there anything that mandates that you do it now?

Me: Not really. Prom, eventually. I’m not excited about taking a girl.

Dr. Grant: Is prom before or after your trip to see your dad?

Me: After.

Dr. Grant: Go see your dad. If Brent can go, take him with you. Spend time with your dad and Charles and see how you and Brent react. My guess is you will be crystal clear about what to do when you get home. Oh, and one more little technicality. I need you to sign this.

Me: What is it?

Dr. Grant: It’s a termination form of my tenure as your doctor. There are ethical issues with me continuing to be your healthcare provider.

Me: I can understand that. The termination is dated yesterday. (Dr. Grant rolled his eyes and looked up while pretending to whistle.) Well, that makes perfect since. (I signed the form.)

Dr. Grant: Tim, I’m Paul.

Me: Pleased to meet you, Paul.

Paul: I know it’s getting a little colder these days, but we have a heater on the pool. Would you and Brent like to join Darren and I for a swim and dinner on Saturday?

Me: I’ll check, but I can almost guarantee the answer is yes.

Paul: Cool. Well, let me know.

Ping! I looked at my cell phone and a text had just come through saying, “Paul Grant”.

Me: (Holding up my phone) Will do! Thanks for all the help with my issues, medical and otherwise. You’ve been a great doctor and friend.

Paul: Well, on a selfish note, you will find a new doctor with ease. On the other hand, Darren and I will never find another Grumpy-approved house sitter in a million lifetimes. We hope to see both of you on Saturday.

Me: Me too!