“I understand,” Dr. Assad said, and while he didn’t leave me alone, he didn’t stare, although he did look over to check my progress.
Joe. Remember Joe, and what he looked like naked. That big cock and that hairy chest. How I used to love being in one of his bear hugs.
Dr. Assad might have a hairy chest, I thought as I looked over at him. His arms were sure hairy, from what I could see of them. The hair was deep black and thick, standing out even against his cocoa colored skin. Too bad he’s wearing a tie, or else I could see his chest.
Dr. Assad is about my height. Maybe he’s got a little one too, I wondered. All of these things combined to finally let me get hard, and as I announced it, standing there proudly with my boner waving in the air, the flash of a camera went off.
“For your records,” Dr. Assad said, pulling out the Polaroid and setting the camera down. “Yes. Very good Tim.”
Dr. Assad came over and put the ruler under my dick again, and when I looked down I saw that instead of the tip of my erection peeking over the 5″ mark like it had when I measured, I was barely over the 4″ line. There was no time for a second measurement though.
“Are you able to ejaculate?” Dr. Assad was asking, handing me a little plastic cup.
“Here?” I asked, wanting to take this test at home, and he nodded.
“Please,” he said, exposing the picture and setting it on the chart.
Not bad, I said to myself as I looked at the picture of me with my dick sticking out in front of me. My face wasn’t visible, and I didn’t look as small from the side as I did looking down.
Determined, I started jerking off, and as I did I saw Dr. Assad watching intently. I wanted to fill that little cup, and as I came I groaned while shooting my load into the vessel. After my ejaculations stopped, I handed the doctor the cup.
“Very good Tim,” he said, nodding at what I had produced as he put it on the table, saying that the would do tests on it later. “Now your mother claims that you were sexually assaulted.”
“Doctor, is stuff I tell you just between us?” I asked, and when he assured me it was, I explained, not wanting poor Joe to get arrested or anything.
“The guy and me – we were – you know,” I mumbled. “He didn’t assault me. I wanted it to happen.”
“And what happened? What did this man do to you?”
“All kinds of stuff, but when my mother saw us, Joe was – he had his – we were having anal sex,” I finally managed to get out.
“Is this something you have done before? With this man?”
“Yes.”
“With other men?”
“A couple,” I said, although the number was greater than that.
“I take it then, that you are a homosexual?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I like girls too, but… maybe I am.”
“You mother was concerned that because she claimed that the man you were with was well endowed, you might have gotten injured in some way,” Dr. Assad said. “You seem fine, but let’s have a look.”
Compared to what had happened before, being on all fours on an examining table was a picnic. I couldn’t see what the doctor was doing, but I was familiar with the greased finger that was sliding into my puckered ring.
“Does this hurt?” Dr. Assad asked, and I said no.
I wanted to say that what I was feeling was far from pain, and was really tuning me on despite the circumstances. He either had deceptively long fingers or was probing me with something. It felt like something was prying open my anus, and then something larger was going into me.
“Does this hurt?” Dr. Assad kept asking, and I kept saying no until I couldn’t speak any more.
I was gripping the end of the table with all my might when my cock, which had been erect almost from the start, began erupting all over the vinyl table.
Up until then, I was hoping that my erection wasn’t visible to the doctor, but when I started cumming, if he didn’t know, he did then. At that point I noticed that he had been standing alongside the table when I came.
“That happens,” Dr. Assad said as I knelt there on all fours with my cum splattered all over below me.
The doctor cleaned up the mess, and after he did he gathered up the specimens and whatever else he got from me and told me I could get dressed.
“I’ll have the lab do some tests, Mrs. Wells,” Dr. Assad was saying after we went out to rescue his receptionist from my mother. “However, I see no cause for concern. Tim seems to very a very healthy young man.”
“But what about the other?” Mom asked. “His…”
“We are all different even though we are the same,” Dr. Assad said, his brown fingers on my mother’s pale arm a stark contrast and proving his point in his own way. “Different shapes and sizes, but we’ll run the tests, and I’ll get back to you with the results.”
“Should have gone to an American doctor instead of some quack from India or wherever,” my mother fumed on the way home. “Your father always went to him and so that’s why I took you there.”
“He’s a doctor,” I reminded her. “Seemed like a good guy too.”
“We should get a second opinion.”
“No,” I said, for once not caving in to her just to avoid a fight. “You got what you wanted. That was the exam right there. He said I’m fine. End of story.”
As far as I was concerned, that was it, and as doctor’s exams go, that wasn’t bad. I got embarrassed and humiliated, but also got to cum twice. Not bad, and as long as the tests came back okay, that was the end.
***
“No Tim,” Dr. Assad said when I told him that my mother had gone to work and wouldn’t be back until after 9 that night. “I don’t need to speak to her. As a matter-of-fact, I was hoping to avoid that.”
“I don’t blame you there,” I said, and his laugh came through, seeming to understand me very well. “Is it about the test?”
“Yes, Tim,” Dr. Assad said. “Nothing at all to be concerned about though.”
“That’s good,” I sighed with relief. “Should we make another appointment?”
“Actually, we don’t have to bother your mother at all,” Dr. Assad said.
“Great.”
“If you would like, you can come over now,” Dr. Assad suggested. “That is, if you aren’t busy?”
“Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll be there in about a half hour.”
I took a quick shower, just in case the doctor would be putting anything up my butt again.
“Wouldn’t be all that bad,” I mumbled to myself while cleaning my back door thoroughly, and even my own touch sent shivers down my spine.
Was every guy’s ass like mine, I wondered? Ever since that kindly old gentleman Walter had taken me so sweetly in that motel room last year, I couldn’t get enough, and the bigger the better.
Dr. Assad probably doesn’t have a big one, I mused while drying off, and besides, the guy is a doctor. I remembered seeing the thick gold band on his finger, the metal shining against the black hair on his knuckles, and the very idea of him being interested in me was absurd. Just as absurd as me wondering about his cock.
***
Downtown looked different at 6:30 in the evening. Even though it wasn’t dark, the streets were fairly deserted, and as I approached the brownstone I wondered how long this would take, because there was a game on TV I wanted to catch at 8.
The office was dimly lit, and I noticed that the receptionist had apparently left for the day. Maybe that means the visit would be billed, I thought before calling out, “Hello?”