Snipped

By the time I went for my last doctor's visit, I was so
horny if the wind blew I got a hardon. It had been six weeks
since I'd gotten my nuts off. I felt like I was drowning in
pent up cum.

I was lying on the table, dressed in the customary paper gown
when Doctor Peterson walked in. "So how you doing?" He asked.
"Had any erections?"

"Dozens," I said.

"Any pain?"

"At first, but not anymore."

"Have you been masturbating?"

"You told me not to."

"Good boy," said Doctor Peterson, lifting up the gown to
admire his surgical skills. "Beautiful."

"Yeah," I said. "You do nice work, Doc."

He started rubbing my balls. "I wasn't talking about my
work," he said. "I was talking about you, about your penis."

I was getting excited as hell. "Do you think I need
another prostate exam?"

He looked at me and grinned. "Probably not, but would
you like one anyway?"

"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother."

He reached into the drawer under the table for his tube
of lube. "No bother at all."

I didn't have to be told how to position my legs. I remembered
very well; knees up, feet on the edge of the table, legs spread.
"Do you want me to jackoff like I did the last time?"

"Absolutely," said Doctor Peterson. "I would imagine
you've been looking forward to this. It will do you good to
ejaculate." Oh, he had no fucking idea how right he was.

By the time he had stepped to the end of the table, my
hand was already busy fingering my stiff cock. The minute he
put his finger up my ass my balls tightened and cum spewed
from my pisshole like an erupting geyser. I was awed by the
force and quantity of my ejaculation. Doctor Peterson
laughed. "Well, that certainly didn't take long."

"Please, don't stop," I gasped. "I want to cum again."

"That's understandable," he said, this time easing not
one, but two of his long, slender fingers into my tight
butthole.

I moaned softly, passionately, as his fingers slid back
and forth in my greasy rectum. He wasn't massaging my
prostate, he was finger fucking my ass, and it felt
fantastic.

I looked down between my gaping knees and caught him
rubbing himself through his long white coat. "So this makes
you horny too."

"I'm only human," said Doctor Peterson. "You're a very
attractive young man. You've got an absolutely beautiful
cock, which at the time is seething in gooey semen. And in
addition to that, I'm standing here with my fingers buried in
you're hairy, little butthole. Yeah, I'd say I'm horny all
right."

"Show me," I said. "I'd like to see your cock."

Using only his free hand to open the front of his lab
coat, he hurriedly unfastened his pants. He had a sizable,
flexing bulge in his Jockey shorts that set my curiosity to
reeling. As he pulled down the front of his underwear his
inviting cock sprang up. You want to talk about pretty
cocks, the Doc had one of the prettiest I'd ever seen.

Doctor Peterson's cock wasn't much bigger than mine, and
like mine, his was circumcised. He had a lot more body hair
than me. His strong thighs were covered with dense curly,
black hair. Even his big, swollen bangers were exceptionally
hairy. I couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to
have his rigid dick up my ass.

I scooted down on the table until my ass was parked
right on the edge. His amazing fingers were still doing a
splendid job of banging my bunghole, but what I really wanted
up my ass was his cock.

The head of his dick grazed one cheek of my butt and I
thought I was in paradise. I moaned, and wiggled, and
squirmed on the table, grinding my ass against his fist.
"Can you get into me any deeper," I panted. "It feels really
good, but if you could get a little deeper it would feel even
better."

"Are you saying you want more than my fingers in your
rectum?" He asked. "If there's something you want, just ask
for it."

"You cock," I whimpered passively. "I want your cock.
I want you to fuck me."

Doctor Peterson pulled his fingers out of my ass and
took off the latex gloves. God, I felt so empty without his
fingers inside me. At first I was afraid I'd gone to far,
maybe I'd asked more of him than he was willing to give.
Then I saw him reach into the pocket of his lab coat and
pulled out a condom. "I had a feeling I might be needing
this," he said, as he put it on.

My heart was clamoring wildly against the inside of my
rib cage. I held my breath as the good doctor positioned the
bulbous head of his organ between my slippery butt cheeks.
"You ever done this before?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Only thought about doing it," I said.
"Well, then you need to know it's going to hurt some at
first, but the discomfort will pass quickly."

I bit down on my lower lip as the head of his helmet
shaped cockhead stretched my hot, gooey pucker. "Oh shit, it
hurts," I said weakly, trying my best to gulp down the pain.
My throbbing cock jerked spastically upon my belly as he
slowly sank the full length of his ramrod deep into the murky
depths of my dismayed bowel.

He began moving, slowly at first, then with more
deliberate gusto. Oh Christ, I'd never felt anything like
it in my life. From deep within me, a pleasurable warmth
radiated outward, covering my tense body with a thin film of
lustful sweat.

I took my hot, stiff cock firmly in my fist and began
working it up and down. My first climax had come so suddenly
I hadn't noticed how naked my dick felt without its foreskin.
The satisfying friction of my pumping hand was no less, or no
greater than it had ever been. It was just different.

Inside my rectum, Doctor Peterson's distended cock quaked
with ecstasy. Holding tightly to my thighs, he pulled my ass
back against his groin. Gasping blissfully, he held himself
inside me, motionless, as his lumbering rod filled the tip of
the condom with spurts of sticky ejaculate.

The expanding of his orgasmic cock stretched my fuckhole
to an even greater extent. It also increased the pressure
being applied to my already stressed prostate. My hand was
now working my meat fast and furious. I was getting close.
My scrotum tightened around my pinging balls, and I heard
myself gasping. "Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" The fruits of my
efforts were phenomenal. I shot eight, or ten times, before
the spastic seizures in my pisstube finally subsided.

Doctor Peterson cleaned himself up and straightened his
cloths. He washed his hands and picked up my chart. Hell, I
was still sprawled on the examining table trying to catch my
breath.

"Your penis seems to have healed quite well,' he said
with a mischievous wink. "Still, to be on the safe side, I
should probably see you again in a couple of weeks for some
additional therapy."

It sure sounded like a good idea to me. I was glad
Doctor Peterson practiced such thorough, precautionary
medicine. I wonder if my health insurance covers this sort
of physical therapy?