Doctor’s Orders

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Amateur

If you’ve read any of my other contributions to this collection, you’ll know something of my forthright sexuality and my preferences. I’ve been thinking for a good while that it was high time that I set down the circumstances in which that mind set began to develop.

I don’t read “first experience” stories and had no intention of writing my own as they rarely inspire me, like so much confessional material, they are often written for the relief they give to the writer rather than the excitement they stimulate in the reader. So, this is not a first experience confession but certainly a formative one and if it makes you as horny as it does me when I recall it, then it was well worth setting down.

As always, names which occur are changed to avoid possible mis-understandings or potential embarrassment.

I got into my mid twenties before I had my first truly fulfilling sexual encounter. I had been well aware, for years, that it was men I wanted. Not just any men, I was attracted only by the most outstandingly masculine. Images of stocky, muscular men, body and facial hair, had an impact with me. I’d had no idea why I felt this kinship, nor really any kind of clear idea what that attraction meant and what I would do if I encountered such a man or why he would respond to me.

I wasn’t shy, perhaps I was preoccupied with other interests but in spite of some almost unbearable frustration at times, the years rolled by.

Like a lot of young men, far more now I believe, I was self conscious about my frail, flabby body, comparing it unfavourably to those I saw in the media that I admired and so I joined a gym and began to learn about weight training. It was a whole, new education system for me and much of my input here has been based on real life experiences derived from the many and varied opportunities I’ve had with like minded men I met in such situations.

However, it was not the gym, the physical transformation of my puny body into something unmistakably masculine which gave me the identity I later owned. It was a psychological and chemical change that was provoked in me. I lacked confidence, I was certainly sexually repressed and once I realised that my longing for that super masculinity was sexual in nature, I was ashamed and tried to suppress that link between aesthetic pleasure and sexual desire. I wanted to extinguish all signs of weakness, what I perceived as feminine softness.

I’d worked very hard in the gym and the results were undeniable, my face was maturing, I have described my cock here many times and, for a man of my (less than average) height, I knew it was, to say the least, a ‘plus’ in my assessment of my own attributes but could any of this ever be good enough, would I ever overcome this sense of inadequacy?

I knew it was a problem in my head. Perhaps, if I sought some help from a professional? It’s not the kind of question you’d instinctively take to a doctor. I had no relationship with a family doctor, I ‘d rarely consulted a doctor for any reason and never saw the same practitioner twice but it bothered me and I booked an appointment almost at random one day.

With no expectations other than getting an opportunity to discuss my concerns, I was seated in the waiting room with a varied group of patients, most of whom had some kind of obvious ailment, all of whom made me feel totally fraudulent and I feared that my condition would be dismissed out of hand when it was my turn for a consultation.

Eventually, I was summoned, I knocked, was invited in and then to sit by a male doctor, dressed in a white lab coat, hunched over his desk, his half lens glasses at the end of his nose, transfixed by the data on his computer screen as he typed with sufficient proficiency that he had no need to look down. He didn’t turn towards me, his greeting seemed automated, even dis-interested. I sagged. There was a brief pause and in the same blandly mechanical fashion, I was asked to describe the circumstances for my visit.

It was with some reluctance that I began with the history, more or less as I have outlined above, while he sat impassive, at right angles to me. Every so often I would turn my head towards him as he occasionally tapped his keyboard but as I related my situation and my understanding of it as it stood, he never once took his eyes off the screen, and his only responses were the minimal acknowledgements that information was being received, the occasion “I see.”, “Yes.”, “Right.”, “I understand.”.

Odd though it seems, I felt that just intoning my circumstances was somehow helping, even if I was perturbed that there was not a more demonstrative show of interest in what I was saying.

I reached the end of my stream of consciousness and a disconcerting silence followed. It was as if something had been switched off and the vacuum between he and I was impenetrable for a long moment.

Then he said, in this calm and business-like but distracted manner “You are a homosexual.”

It was both astonishing to hear and blindingly obvious, illegal bahis given my introduction. My response was both shock and relief. Both nervous and somehow elated by these four words spoken in a matter of fact way without emotion. I accepted the truth of it and understood that my unease and my dissatisfaction centred on this undeniable fact and my suppression of it.

Whether I made some physical sign of my surprise, some sharp intake of breath, I cannot say but moving his right hand way from the keyboard, he opened his top drawer and reached inside, pulling out a small business card, He reached across the computer keyboard and his left hand still working on the keys to put the card on the desk at my side.

“I’m referring you for an initial consultation next week.” He told me in his flat manner. “Telephone this number and arrange an appointment. The address, as you can see, is only a few blocks from here. Good afternoon.”

The finality of his utterance was followed by the return of the sterile silence. I picked up the card he’d placed at my side and stared at his transfixed profile, glued to the screen. I thanked him and stood to leave, glancing once more, now down and to my left to see if there was a flicker of recognition but there was none. I closed the door quietly on the trickle of sound emanating from his busy fingers. His words “You are a homosexual.” throbbing in my ears.

I looked down at the card between my thumbs. No graphic, no colour, just bold, black type. The address to which I was summoned, the telephone number to call and the name, Mr. Edward Hyde. A string of professional abbreviations that I didn’t recognise followed his name and the title “Consultant Psychiatrist.”. I was being referred to a shrink. Was I mad? I thought I was just unfulfilled, not crazy.

My head was so full of questions, I almost stepped off the kerb without looking and it would be a long week from deciding to make that call to the appointed hour.

An entry buzzer admitted me into the rather anonymous stairwell of a modern office building down the block. On the first floor landing, another electronic gate keeper at another unlettered entrance led me to a charming woman, suited, perfect hair and make-up, presumably Mr.Hyde’s receptionist, sat at a desk, in a spacious lobby where windows showed the dusky, early evening city outside. She rose, shook my hand and I was ushered into a small waiting room through a partition and I was asked to sit, the only chair there being next to an aquarium with some fancy goldfish. and facing a substantial looking door, opposite my seat. I was just taking an interest in them when the voice of the receptionist called through an intercom “Mr. Hyde will see you now.”

I was shaking with nerves when I stood. What was I to expect from this meeting? I knocked at the forbidding door which had a kind of dead sound and from beyond my muffled knuckles I barely heard a voice call out “Come!”

Turning the handle, the thick structure before me opened to reveal not an office or consulting room as I’d expected but a laboratory. A desk and chair, a medical screen, a couch or chaise-longe which was rather more plush than expected, contrasting the scientific and mainly sterile, white environment. All of these might have occurred to my imagination in the intervening week. Then, cabinets all down one wall wall, some glass and stainless steel laboratory equipment on an island worktable and in one corner a lighted doorway, through which a sonorous and thickly warm baritone voice called “I’ll be right with you!” I hesitated in the doorway, clutching the handle, as if I were keeping an escape route clear, when the owner of the voice emerged into the room. If I’d been questioning my sanity during the past week, I was now really troubled.

The eminent consultant, broad and handsome of face, likewise broad in the shoulders with a fine head of glossy black curls, wore half lens glasses on the end of his nose and peered at me over them. A spontaneous smile cut his chiseled features. His fine, white teeth showed sufficiently to see a gap between upper incisors under a bristling moustache and his dense, closely cropped beard revealed a deeply dimpled chin and muscular cheeks.

“Come in, come in!” He called “No need to hold onto the door,” He chuckled “it won’t blow away. That’s 150 lbs of sound-proofing!”

As he turned to his right and leaned over his desk to scrutinise his laptop, I recognised in an instant the very same profile I’d seen in the doctor’s surgery a week before. I blanched. Could this get any more confusing.

He now wore white surgeon trousers, short sleeved white top and white crocks, he was transformed. Dressed for the operating theatre? A psychiatrist?

He expertly removed a pair of latex gloves from his broad hands, tossing them into a pedal bin next to his desk. All my nerves in heightened alert, I noticed his thick wrists and corded, powerful forearms, my attention was drawn to the slabs of his deltoids, the power of his neck and shoulders illegal bahis siteleri combined. massive wads of pectoral muscles that writhed under the thin surgical uniform. Where was all this in my memory of last week?

I still had not managed to close the door, transfixed as I was by my confusion and some charisma Edward Hyde exuded. He walked over, bid me move into the room with a firm hand on the back of my shoulder and closed the door behind me. He gently steered me to face him, fixing me with his amber eyes, smiling delightedly into my face. “You are a homosexual.” he said.

“Yes.” I said weakly

His mouth approached to kiss me, I opened mine and received his lips and tongue instinctively without thinking. The fumbling, rough and ready sexual encounters I’d had with men until this point had not included this delicacy. All hurried, grunting, shambolic incidents in fear of discovery or interruption. I allowed his silken tongue to explore my mouth I sucked on it and drew in his breath as I breathed, I pushed back into the warmth of his mouth and our bodily fluids began to mingle with an electrical energy that astounded me. We kissed and kissed, I thought I’d wear out my lips and tongue.

Edward’s eyes seemed to burn into mine, as I felt for the hem of his top and lifted, with barely a breath he raised his arms, it was off over his head and his truly magnificent, brown torso was revealed, rippling muscle everywhere under a down of bristling tiny, short, black curls. He took the initiative once more as my eyes took in this perfect vision of manliness, with his thumbs in the waistband with one swift movement, he slipped down his lower garment to his ankles, stepped out of the legs and stood there naked for me to admire and so I did.

Powerful legs and glutes, tension and elegance in equal measure, the sculpted crossing point of hips, abs and groin and then the greatest surprise of all, the most magnificent, erect cock. Full, glowing, thick as my not inconsiderable wrist and more than a challenge for my, as yet, inexperienced mouth and throat.

Here was I with a sexually aroused man that I could never have lusted over in a gym changing room. Not a poser, not a teaser as so many bodybuilders are, just honestly, lustily aroused with and for and by me!

“Well?” He quized. “What’s the hold up?”

I was once again paralysed by my thoughts and his beauty. He reached for me, pulling me into his now naked embrace, purring with emotion and nuzzling into my erogenous neckwith his whiskers. I unbuckled my belt and released my shirt, kicking away my shoes and between us we wrestled me out of my remaining clothes down to my socks. As my underpants were hastily yanked down, up sprang my youthful nine by five with a powerful slap to my taut belly and now it was Edward who was aghast.

As if I had brought him a longed for gift, his eyes were shining with delight and desire as they roamed all over my pale, strong body. My clothes strew about the floor of the lab he took my hand and led me to the couch where he sat me down, folded his glasses and placed them beside me on the claret coloured velvet and crouched between my legs.

He extended his long tongue and lapped at the dewy droplet that had formed at the tip of my purple cock head which was now sticking straight up. He touched it also with a finger and we both fascinated as he allowed the elastic honey to form a shimmering triangle between his mouth his hand and my engorged organ.

Then he swooped hungrily down onto my throbbing tool, open mouthed and open throated he plunged his face into my pubic hair in one predatory movement and held it there, my hot shaft stretching his gullet, my cock head reaching almost halfway down to his stomach. The heat of his body tantalising my whole sex, I felt his tongue lick at my balls. I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined this kind of delighted torment. I was devoured. I threw my head back with wild abandon, my eyes rolled helplessly, I hissed and gasped with surprise and passion and my involuntary body pumped seven bolts of scalding jism into his guts. I shook with uncontrolled spasms and I was completely unable to summon any will or cognition. It was like some kind of reset.

For what seemed like minutes, it could have been only seconds, Edward’s throat muscles contracted in rippling cascades down my shaft, milking my seed without mercy. I writhed in an ecstatic agony, completely unable to stop him torturing my flesh. Then he slid off my shaft and immediately sucked my nuts into his mouth which filled his cheeks. Barely able to focus, I looked down into his twinkling, mischievous eyes, he closed his jaw gently and pulled this way and that, stretching my nut-sack and rolling my bollocks around his tongue. My senses were jolted back by the exquisite pain and pleasure of this tugging and teasing, god it hurt so good.

With a loud plop he let go my nuts and headed south. He lifted my legs by the ankles and dove once again, this time into the pale forest canlı bahis siteleri of hair under my ball-sack and headed straight for my arse hole. He clamped his mouth over my pucker in a bold kiss, plunging that marvellous tongue of his right in. Until that moment, although I’d been fucked a few times and was beginning to learn how to derive pleasure from it, here was something in a league of its own.

Still coming down off one orgasm I lay back helpless as my hams were spread in a splits and my guts were invaded by another man’s tongue.

“You are a homosexual.”

Those words shot into my mind at the realisation that I had thoughtlessly, instinctively allowed a man, who was as strong and masculine as I could possibly imagine, insert his tongue into my anus. What’s more, just seconds before, I’d cum a mind blowing load and my cock hadn’t softened one bit. Faint spasms continued to disable my whole body as Edward probed and lapped, pushing his tongue right up into my helpless body. I quivered, moaned and shivered without a will of my own.

My head lolled, my mouth gaped open and I drooled shamelessly onto my own body. Tingling and juddering cascaded through my body with a seizmic energy.

Edward let go my ankles and they just hoisted themselves higher and wider unbidden and my abdominals just clenched to do their bidding as he used his hands to spread my arse open further and use the full thickness of his tongue inside me.

Almost unconscious and breathing in gasps and stutters I remember feeling as if my senses had fused into one tidal wave of pleasure, centred on my sex organs and what I now know to be my prostate. Skilful hands reached up to tweak my nipples between strong thumbs and forefingers, another first that introduced a new pleasure centre. Then his magnificent torso reappeared over the horizon between my legs, once again he grasped my ankles, kissing his way up each of my muscular thighs and calves in turn, a look of pure joy on his handsome face.

Numb with erotic pleasure I felt the fat head of his lance press into the cleft of my quivering arse and automatically zero in on the pink, slippery, saliva slick place at its centre. He leaned forward over me, pushing my knees almost into my armpits and as his mouth closed in on mine, in my helpless daze, I longed for those lips and that tongue that had just been at my own arse, I sucked them in as his blood sausage opened my rear door and sank into the heat of my rectum.

My fat cock squeezed between his body and mine, and I almost suffocated by his mouth and his body weight. I ought to have been worried I’d dislocate both hips but instead I just hungered. I sucked on Edwards tongue and he fucked me brutally at both ends, the friction of his hairy belly sent wave upon wave of pleasure throughout the indefinable empire of lust centred on my cock and balls and as I climaxed for the second time, spurts of glue that would surely cement our relationship, I felt the contractions in my arse which coincided with the fall of Edward into a synchronised spiral of simultaneous orgasm.

Unaware, I had wrapped my muscular arms around the panting body that lay between my legs. I lost touch with waking without a struggle until a wriggling and writhing and the feeling of something peeling itself off my belly brought me back into the room. The Doc was stirring and endeavouring to make himself comfortable without disturbing the sensual bubble into which we’d fallen. My mouth wouldn’t work, I managed to release him and we were able to adjust our bodies enough to get life back into limbs and straighten spines.

As my head cleared I wanted to ask about this apparent dual existence, this doctor and the one I had seen a week ago. A brother, a twin perhaps, they were so alike and yet so different. After somebody has had your gonads in their mouth, you’ve got over a certain boundary into a familiarity where you feel able to ask questions.

My pale skin and blue eyes were all he seemed to contemplate and appearing lost in thought he didn’t answer me. Eventually, he got up and went to the table at the centre of the room. I marvelled as he went, at the grace and muscular beauty of every sinuous movement of this man, the body mass, the tufts of strategically place body hair, everything. He picked up a small tumbler about the size of a shot glass and came back to the couch. He offered me the small container and said “Drink this.”

Thinking of the balls in the mouth moment and the inherent trust or more likely loss of reason which comes with those mind blowing highs, I took it and gulped down the liquid it contained. it was sweet, warming, no trace of a chemical taste. My empty stomach welcomed it.

He said “Both of those doctors you met are aspects of the same person, that is myself.” This sounded odd and scientific but he went on “We all have different people inside of us, some are so subtle you’d never notice the change, some change markedly in their dealings with different people and situations. What you have seen is two sides of my whole self. You also have at least two selves. One has been denied a voice and needed to be heard. Now he has emerged but is not yet free. That is why you have been given this draft. It will allow you to complete that process.”

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