A DIFFERENT KIND OF CHECK-UP by Brumeux
It was late. I'd been putting off my physical because I just couldn't fit it into my schedule. Finally my doctor agreed to take me in the evening. So it was a little after six, and his receptionist had of course gone home at the usual time. It was Dr. Peterson himself who opened the door at my ring.
"Come in, Jim," he said. "We'll go directly into the exam room."
He asked a few questions about my health, but I had nothing to complain about, so that didn't take long. I rolled up my sleeve for him to take my blood pressure, and he put a disposable thermometer under my tongue.
"So, Doc," I said. "How'm I doing?"
"Listen, Jim. I've been your doctor for what, ten years now? And I'm all of two years older than you. Don't you think it's time you called me Mark?"
"OK, then, Mark. And how am I doing?"
He laughed. "So far, so good. Just a couple of more things I need to check. Take off your clothes and step up on the scale."
I had my jacket off already, naturally. I stood and kicked off my shoes, then added my tie, shirt, and pants to the pile on the spare chair. I was still wearing my undershirt, boxers, and socks. Mark checked height and weight and made notes of them in my file.
"Now drop your drawers, turn your head and cough."
For some reason, the touch of his fingers on my nuts seemed more personal than it usually does. Maybe I was just extra horny. Anyway, I felt like, if he'd only taken a little more time than he did, I might have thrown a bone. Good thing, I thought, reaching for my shorts.
"Not so fast, Jim," said the doctor. "I'm afraid I have a little bonus for you. You've reached the age when we need to start doing a prostate exam."
I was beginning to feel a little foolish. I mean, standing in front of somebody else with your underwear around your ankles is never a real confidence builder--it's like you've strayed from some farce. That, and then, as I said, I was on the verge of getting aroused, which I'd just as soon not do in front of Mark. I wished I could get dressed.
Now, as you may have gathered, we're neither of us young hunks. Nobody would buy us as models in a "What the College Man is Wearing" layout. Still, Mark in particular is lean and good-looking. He's got sandy hair, which was possibly blond in his youth, and a moustache to match. His face has its share of lines of experience and laughter. As for me, I've got hair that is primarily dark brown, although the silver has begun showing up. I've always been reasonably pleased with my face, and still think it's a good one, but the sedentary job and not enough time to work out have lost me my muscular definition. Not that I'm fat, by any stretch of the imagination, but I won't be working in any swimsuit ads this year.
So, here I am, standing like a fool, with a tingle in my prick, in front of my doctor, not allowed to cover up.
"Get up on the examination table, on your left side, and pull your right knee up," Mark said.
Great, I thought. I wasn't humiliated enough before. Not that "humiliated" is exactly the right word, but it was the best I could do as I lay there with my asshole winking at him. And of course, I'd got tangled in my boxers in the process of climbing onto the table and Mark had had to help me out of them.
As if he were reading my thoughts, Mark said, "Not the greatest ego- booster, is it? I used to feel like an idiot during my exams, even though I exchange check-ups with my best friend from med school. We finally worked out something that sort of evens the playing field, though: we both strip before we begin. Then neither one of us feels like he's exposing himself. Silly, isn't it?" During this speech, Mark had pulled on a latex glove and opened a tube of K-Y jelly. His finger began rubbing a chilly dollop onto my anus. After the first shock, it felt surprisingly good.
"Hmm. I think I'd better use a little more lube," he said. The next blob didn't really seem cold at all, and as he continued his one-finger massage, I could feel my cock swelling a little. Then he began penetrating, sliding in and out to bring the jelly into the rectum. I'd always thought a rectal exam would be extremely painful, and in fact I almost wished it were, because that little swelling was nearly a full- fledged erection by now.
Suddenly, Mark's whole finger was inside me. He continued, "I'm afraid most doctors rush rectals too much. They just want to get in, get it over, and get out. Tends to be a little painful for the patients. After all, with just a little more prep time, it can be painless. Even enjoyable. In fact, most men, if it's done properly, find it sexually stimulating. The prostate is a sex gland, after all. Of course, that's another reason that it's usually rushed. The patient is likely to feel even more at a loss than he would have been anyway. But I always look forward to mine. How are you doing?"
How I was doing was having a humongous hard-on that was beginning to leak pre-cum. The finger up my ass was an incredible sensation, and I was wondering (a) how I got to this age without ever trying it myself, (b) how to keep Mark from noticing, (c) how to get him to stop before I spewed cum all over his table, and (d) how to make sure he didn't stop before I spewed cum all over his table.
"You know, if you're uncomfortable spread out here like this, I could always do it in the nude."
Was that my overheated imagination, or had Mark really said that? The momentary pause in the motions of the investigating finger made me think maybe it was the latter.
Not counting locker rooms, I'd never been naked with another man. But I'd had the odd fantasy. And Mark was good-looking, and what's more, I liked him. I hadn't had much of a sex life recently--well, to be honest: except for masturbating, none at all since my wife's death several years ago--, and that finger was feeling awfully good. So I said, "Sounds like a plan to me." I figured that that was noncommittal enough so that if I'd imagined what I heard, it couldn't be taken much against me.
The delightful digit withdrew from my ass. I looked down over my shoulder to see Mark hanging his lab coat up on the hook on the back of the door, and beginning to loosen his tie. His shirt and pants were soon off, then his socks and undershirt, and he had on nothing but his rubber glove and a pair of Hanes briefs with something that looked about the size and hardness of a tire iron in them. "Do you want to help me here?" he asked, coming over to stand in front of my face.
I reached out. The flared edge of his glans was clearly limned. I put one finger to the tip of his cotton-covered cock and felt the dampness of his pre-cum soaked into the material. I looked up at his face. "If you're wondering how I know you're not going to report this lapse in medical ethics," he said, "the answer is of course that I don't. It doesn't seem like what I know of you, though; and since I've been hot for you for almost as long as you've been coming to me, I figured it was do or die."
"No, you're right. I wasn't contemplating that at all. But damned if I know exactly what I am going to do," I responded.
"Would this help you make up your mind?" he asked, sliding his ungloved hand under my right thigh to grasp my stiff prong.
"Oh," I gasped; "definitely." I slid my hand down into the waistband of his briefs and caressed the taut silken skin of his prick, then used both hands to pull his underwear off entirely. His hard-on sprang out at me, swinging a glistening string of pre-cum along behind it to trail along my forearm.
I grasped his cock, sliding my hand along that smooth, stretched skin up to his pubes, then back towards the head, loosening my grip so that the shaft was just resting on my fingers. As I got just below the glans, where the nerves are clustered most, his prick leapt up towards his belly and then flopped back down. The main effect of this was that there was now a bit of pre-cum between his dick and my fingers, and I spread it around the underside of his cock. I knew enough now to hold on to him so he didn't keep bouncing up and down.
Mark pulled back a little, out of my reach. "Turn over on your back," he said, "and draw up your knees. I did as I was told, and found that even though I was exposed as never before--ass open and hard-on in full view--I was no longer the least bit uncomfortable. "Just a little more examining to do," he claimed.
He'd moved to the other side of the table now, so his gloved right hand could go under my leg and resume its thrilling explorations of my intestine. Without knowing a bit about anatomy, I could tell when he'd relocated my prostate: my cock, already harder than I could remember its ever being, stiffened even a little more. "Good," said Mark; "feels perfectly normal." Then he lifted my prong with his free hand so that it stood straight up, and gave it one little up and down rub. The next thing I knew, he'd bent over and swallowed me right down to the roots.
The sensation was indescribable. I know his tongue was performing impossible maneuvers, but I was in no state to be taking more accurate notes than that. I did have the presence of mind to reach out and reclaim his cock and resume spreading his lubrication over its more sensitive parts. I suppose this made Mark moan with pleasure; I know that his mouth and throat began doing even more incredible things to me. And then his probing finger hit my prostate again, and suddenly I didn't even have time to warn him. I began to spasm, clamping down on his finger with my sphincter for all I was worth, and then the spurts of semen began jetting into his mouth.
Mark increased his suction, swallowing as fast as I could shoot. He kept on until I was drained, then long enough so my limp prick was clean and almost dry. His hard-on was as firm as ever in my hand, and I realized what I wanted. "I'm worried, doctor," I panted. "I don't think you've been using the correct instrument for my prostate examination."
Mark looked at me, perhaps a trifle surprised but clearly not displeased. "Are you sure, Mr. Rhys?"
"As sure as I can be without having done it before, Mark," I replied a little more seriously. "I can't imagine being more ready than I am now."
"All right," he said. "I'm certainly not going to turn you down. Hold on a sec. I didn't really expect to get where we are, and I'm insufficiently prepared--the condoms are in my office. I'll be back in two shakes."
And in truth he was very prompt: so much so that he hadn't even paused to open up the box of condoms, just grabbed them from wherever he keeps them to dole out to patients. I'd barely had time to whip off my undershirt, but it was still long enough to allow that iron bar of his to sag a little. "Come over here," I said. "You get the wrapper open, and I'll get you fit to wear it."
I took his cock in my hand again, and began to feel fleeting hints of arousal myself at the touch. I admired the flaring red head, the veins both delicate and enormous, the heft of the balls, and the clean-but... scent. Okay, this was it. Every man has imagined it (except screaming homophobes, and they just refuse to admit it), and I was about to do it. I stretched out my tongue to collect the clear drop at the tip of his prick. Salty, as I knew it would be; but surprisingly sweet as well. I licked just the tiniest bit of the underside, not even back to that sensitive nerve center, and gathered up another drop on the return trip. If my only purpose had been to restore full erection, I could have stopped now. But I was after more. I leaned forward a bit more, taking the end of his shaft into my mouth and rubbing my tongue where I knew it would have the greatest effect. Mark moaned encouragingly.
I wasn't going to attempt any sort of deep-throat activity, but I began a little fucking back and forth with my head, while trying to keep my tongue performing in useful swirls. In a moment Mark drew back. "Here," he said, handing me a condom with half the packet ripped away. "Deck me out." He leaned back, presenting his hard-on temptingly, but his real purpose soon became apparent: a fresh dollop of K-Y jelly arrived on my asshole. His latex-covered fingers began rubbing it in, and I felt not one but two of them enter, stretching me a little more.
As a third slipped in, I realized my cock was a bit swollen again. "Not bad for an old fart," I thought to myself. Then the fingers left as Mark moved around to position himself between my legs. He had me slide a little closer to the end of the table, and placed my legs up on his shoulders. I saw him add a last little bit of lube to his dick; then he stripped off the glove and tossed it towards the trash. He aimed his cock at the target, and leaned forward a bit. I could feel him slide easily in for a little way; then he stuck.
"Okay, Jim," he said. "Almost there. Just bear down a little." So I gave a little push, and suddenly I was full. Another man was inside me. And behold! I did have a second erection.
"Fuck me, Mark," I said. It came out a sort of husky whisper.
Mark began a slow in-and-out, and the pressure of the head of his cock on my prostate made the effect of his finger earlier pale by comparison. He slid his hands along my thighs, and I took hold of my hard-on and began stroking in time with his movements. Soon he was slamming into me and my hand was the proverbial blur on my shaft. He was grunting with the effort, then cried out, "Oh, yes!" and dropped his hands to my waist and pulled. His back arched away from me, his hips thrust forward, and for just a moment he was entirely motionless. Then his butt began spasming and I knew he was filling the rubber with his cum. I had a split second to resent the various viruses and bacteria that prevented it from being my guts he was filling, and then I fell into my second orgasm of the evening, milking his pumping cock with my ass for all I was worth.
Mark's softening prick slid out of my ass, and he lowered my feet to the edge of the table while holding on to the rubber with one hand. He walked over to the trash, pulled the condom off, and threw it away, and then picked up the rubber glove he'd failed to get in the basket before and tossed it too. He pulled a few paper towels out of the dispenser and came back to the table. "Well, Jim," he said as he began wiping the pooled cum off my belly.
"Well, Mark," I replied.
"I've never given an exam like that before."
"OK. I've never received one like it either, so I guess we're even."
"The evidence would suggest it wasn't a completely unpleasant event for you."
"Are you kidding? The last time I came like that I was probably eighteen."
"If you want to find a new doctor..."
"Listen, Mark, you better not be kissing me off here. I was just wondering what my insurance company would say if I started having my annual exam every week."
That got a big smile, and I could see he'd really been worrying. "No reason for them to be concerned," he said. "I won't charge for this one, and if you felt you needed a follow-up, the same fee structure would seem to be appropriate."
"Say I felt the need for a couple more follow-ups tonight--could that be arranged?"
"Will you let me buy you dinner first?"
"Sure thing. And, Mark?"
"What?"
"Don't forget to bring the rubbers."