Accidental Discharge

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I arrived at Dr. Kim’s office about ten minutes before our scheduled appointment. I hated being late; my parents had always harped on the importance of valuing other people’s time. I had been coming to this medical building my entire life. Even though I was now eighteen and about to finish high school, I continued to see my pediatrician. I figured that this would likely be our last visit, because I was moving away for college soon.

The waiting room was pretty nondescript. I was sitting in one of the ten well-worn burgundy chairs placed against the three walls facing the reception desk. I had already checked in and was working on the forms I had been given. ‘What is your primary reason for today’s visit?’ was the question that gave me pause. I wondered if ‘I noticed a lump on my ball the last time I was jerking off’ was too candid. I ended up going with something a little less colorful.

“Eriksson. Holden Eriksson,” a voice called from the door.

I looked up from my phone to see a middle-aged nurse with a plain-looking face. She feigned a smile as I made my way across the room. I was nonplussed due to the fact that she was not the nurse I’d grown accustomed to seeing; a brunette named Melody had been Dr. Kim’s assistant for at least the past five years.

I followed this new nurse through the corridor leading back towards the exam rooms. She stopped when we approached a scale in an alcove.

“I’m going to need to update your weight in the chart before you meet with the doctor,” she said. “Can you please hop on the scale for me?”

I did as she instructed and stepped onto the scale. I wondered if I should take off the light jacket that I was wearing, but I figured that it didn’t actually matter; she would have said something.

“Two-hundred pounds,” she said. “It looks like you’ve put on a little weight since your last visit.”

“I’ve been spending more time at the gym lifting weights. I’m trying to keep in shape since I’m going to be playing football at college.”

She didn’t seem very interested; she started writing a note in my chart. Most people got excited when I mentioned college or football, but she seemed wrapped up in her own world.

“Is your height still six-foot-two?” she asked.

“Six-three now,” I replied.

“It’s that room right over there,” she said with a curt gesture.

I walked into the small room. It wasn’t Dr. Kim’s usual exam room. It was clearly decorated for adults, as evidenced by a poster discussing the risk of heart disease. Dr. Kim’s exam room was more youth-oriented; it had a poster of some puppies wearing stethoscopes on the wall near the doorway.

I heard the nurse rummaging in a cupboard behind me. When I turned around, she handed me a flimsy, sky-blue medical gown. It was the kind that has those awkward ties behind the back.

“Take off all your clothes and put on this robe,” she instructed. “Then have a seat on the exam table. The doctor will be in shortly.”

The nurse quickly exited the room; the door almost slammed as she shut it. I walked towards the corner of the room where there was a body-length mirror. Next to it stood a small table that I thought I would use to hold my clothes.

I stared at my reflection for a moment before I started to disrobe. I still had trouble believing that I had gone from being a pint-sized nerd to a guy that all the girls wanted to be with in just two years. I tussled my sandy-blond hair; my emerald eyes seemed a little duller than usual because of the artificial lighting. I smiled, which caused my dimples to deepen; my lips parted to show my near-perfect, dazzling white teeth. I was glad that the years of braces had ended up being worth all the teasing.

Even though it might be hard to believe, I wasn’t feeling nervous about the appointment. I had made the fundamental error of trying to talk with my dad. I only wanted to ask if he had ever gotten a pimple on his nuts. He freaked out and demanded I come in for a visit. I knew that it was probably one of a million other things and not cancer, but my dad had been increasingly anxious about health issues since my uncle died after a heart attach a few years earlier.

I removed my jacket and draped it on the table. I kicked off my sneakers with ease, since the laces were loosely tied. I doffed my tight-fitting black T-shirt and pushed down the dark gray sweatpants I had been wearing. I swiftly folded both and tossed them on top of my jacket.

My muscular frame filled the entirety of the mirror. My ab muscles appeared defined beneath my smooth, pale skin. I was not a naturally hairy guy, but I liked it that way. I flexed my biceps for a moment, letting myself feel proud about the work I had put into both building and sculpting them.

I pushed my navy-blue boxers down to my ankles before stepping out of them. My cock was hanging limply between my legs. I had learned from group showers with my teammates that I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of in that department. It was about five inches soft, istanbul travesti but grew to a little over eight inches when erect.

Everyone measures — everyone.

My dick looked a little bit bigger to me; I had recently shaved my pubic hair off for the first time. I had been wanting to try something different, and I felt like I had been seeing a trend in porn where none of the guys had any pubic hair.

I stuffed my boxers inside of the folded sweatpants. It felt weird standing naked in the unfamiliar exam room – or almost naked, I supposed, since I still had my socks on. I grabbed the medical gown and tried to pull it on. I realized it was too small almost immediately. I struggled to pull it over my broad shoulders, and, once I managed that, I discovered that the hem only went down to the middle of my thighs. Worse still, the rear left a solid six inches of my back exposed. I knew that there was no way I was getting it to close.

I heard a loud knocking at the door. I spun around on my heels, feeling startled. I instinctively placed both of my hands at the hem of the gown, trying to keep it from riding up my muscular thighs. The door slowly opened, and someone entered holding a chart in front of their face. The person shut the door and placed the manila folder in a receptacle mounted on the wall.

“Hey, Holden,” the doctor said. “It’s great to see you!”

“Dr. Thompson?”

“Didn’t Nurse Sarah tell you? Dr. Kim’s daughter went into labor earlier today so I offered to cover for him. This must feel weird, huh? I mean, we just saw each other two nights ago. I promise I won’t start subbing at your school next.”

I had known Dr. Thompson for about ten years. He was my best friend Jimmy’s father. I would join their family for dinner at least once a week, and I would go with Dr. Thompson and Jimmy for their annual camping trip every Memorial Day weekend.

Dr. Thompson was in his early forties. I knew that he and Mrs. Thompson had gotten pregnant with Jimmy right when Dr. Thompson had started medical school. They would sometimes tell stories about how hard it had been being a young couple trying to raise a child with only student loans to keep them afloat.

I felt my heart flutter once it fully hit me that I would be seeing Dr. Thompson today instead of Dr. Kim. I felt a sense of comfort with Dr. Kim; he was a sweet man in his mid-sixties who always talked about his grandkids. I didn’t feel at ease with Dr. Thompson in spite of having known him for the past decade.

A big part of my discomfort stemmed from the fact that I was gay, but had not come out to anyone yet. Living in a small, rural town, there was not much acceptance for LGBT people. I had spent a few years feeling conflicted about my sexuality before finally accepting it around the time I’d turned sixteen. That didn’t mean I felt the need to tell others; I figured that the idea of coming out was something better left to explore in college.

During my journey of self-acceptance, I had developed a crush on Dr. Thompson. He was kind, attractive, funny, and showed a genuine interest in the things I had to say when I spent time with their family. Needless to say, I had become a stammering mess after those feelings had started to surface.

I had gotten better at interacting with Dr. Thompson in a more natural manner in the past year; my crush had diminished as my interest had shifted to other guys closer to my own age. Standing in front of him nearly naked, however, I noticed those familiar feelings overtaking me once again.

“Hello, Dr. Thompson. It’s good to see you, and it’s really nice of you to help Dr. Kim.”

He smiled, seemingly acknowledging my praise of his selflessness. His hair was short and silver-hued. I wondered if the stress of medical school had caused the color change, since I didn’t know any other dads his age who had gone silver. He lifted his hand up to stroke the stubble on his broad jaw; his light blue eyes complimented his soft pink dress shirt.

“Do you want me to find you a bigger gown?” he asked, nodding at the mirror behind me.

I was confused for a second before it clicked. I looked over my shoulder to see my exposed ass being reflected in the mirror. Blood rushed into my face as I frantically reached behind me to pull at the gown’s ties. My fingers shook as I pulled at them; it only took a few seconds to confirm that there just wasn’t even fabric to cover my large, muscular backside.

“Let me look to see what we have in the cupboard,” he said without waiting for me to respond. “Why don’t you tell me about what brought you in today while I’m digging around in here. Two birds with one stone, right?”

He had opened the door to the cupboard, which blocked his torso. I could hear him rummaging through the gowns. I looked down at his fitted khakis, because that was all I could see. They seemed a little too tight; I could make out a line on his mid-thigh that had to be the hem of his underwear. My gaze drifted towards istanbul travestileri his bulge, but I quickly averted my eyes.

“I, um, I don’t know. It’s stupid really,” I said.

“I thought it said something about a testicular lump,” he replied, still obscured by the cupboard.

“Um, so I was in the shower a few days ago and noticed a bump down there. I really didn’t think it was a huge deal, but my dad totally freaked out when I mentioned it to him. I guess I figured it would be easier to come in today just so he’d stop bothering me.”

“He just cares about you, and it’s always good to make sure these things aren’t serious.”

He stepped out from behind the cupboard door and gently closed it. He wasn’t holding anything in his hands.

“So, I have good news and bad news,” he said.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

I felt my heart speed up, and my mouth got very dry. I was already feeling self-conscious; I had both of my hands locked together behind me, trying to limit how much of my ass could be seen in the mirror’s reflection.

“I couldn’t find a bigger gown,” he said. “I’m wondering if they haven’t gotten the new shipment in yet. But the good news is that we don’t really need one for today’s visit. I’m going to have to do a physical examination of your testicles anyway, so there’s really no point in trying stay covered if that’s the main purpose of this visit.”

I started to feel a little dizzy. I had already been a little on edge about Dr. Kim seeing my nuts, but I figured I would just raise the gown enough for him to get a glimpse and tell me that it was fine. If he had to touch them, well, I’d planned to close my eyes. I hadn’t ever considered that I would need to be naked for the entire exam.

“You can just toss the gown on the floor and hop up on the exam table,” Dr. Thompson instructed.

I paused for a second as I remembered my newly-shorn crotch. I knew that young people wouldn’t think it was odd, but I worried that Dr. Thompson would judge me. I wondered if he would assume I was gay, since, from my limited experience with internet porn, straight guys didn’t seem to shave it all off nearly as often as the gay ones did.

“You really don’t need to feel shy, Holden,” he said. “This is my job; I see dozens of people naked every day – and, from what I recall, you’ve already seen me naked, so this only seems fair.”

He laughed and softly tapped me on the bicep. I blushed with greater intensity as the memory came to the forefront of my mind. I had been mortified when it had happened. I had crashed in Jimmy’s room a few months earlier after a party. I had woken up at four the next morning having to piss like a race horse. I had scurried down the hall to the guest bathroom and flung open the door.

Dr. Thompson had been standing there naked and wet; he’d been drying himself off with a towel. I’d frozen for a moment, staring at his body. He’d looked pretty fit; he hadn’t had a six pack, but I could still see some definition behind a small layer of padding. His cock had been thick but of average length; it had looked like it would be impossible to wrap my hand around it, and it hadn’t even been hard.

Dr. Thompson had quickly wrapped the towel around his waist once he’d looked up to see me standing there. I’d managed to mutter that I didn’t know the bathroom was occupied and that I really needed to pee. He’d explained that he often showered in the guest bathroom when getting home in the middle of the night so as to not wake his wife. He had seemed unbothered by the situation as he’d exited the bathroom.

I felt my nipples harden. I knew that thinking about Dr. Thompson’s naked body was the exact opposite of what I needed to be doing.

I tentatively removed the gown and let it fall to the floor. I kept both of my large hands fanned out to cover my crotch. Dr. Thompson smirked; I assumed he found my modesty humorous. I made my way over the exam table and hopped up so that I was perched on the edge, facing a chair placed in front of it.

Dr. Thompson pulled my chart down from the wall and took a seat in the chair. His head was level with my abdomen since the exam table was much higher than his seat. He opened the chart and started to flip through some of the pages.

“Okay, Holden. It looks like there’s some information missing in here, so I’m going to need to ask a few questions first before we do the physical exam.”

“Sure.”

“You said you only noticed the lump a few days ago. Is that right?”

“Yea, I was showering on Tuesday and just happened to feel something. It’s pretty small though. I thought that it might be a pimple.”

“Have you ever had any similar bumps in the past?”

“No, this is the first time.”

He jotted down a few notes in the chart. I had lowered my hands onto my lap so they were now resting on top of my dick. I could feel its warmth, but I was trying to ignore it. I really didn’t want to think about it too much, for fear that I might get aroused; it travesti istanbul didn’t take much to get me revved up.

“Do you have unprotected sex?”

“No,” I replied after a brief pause.

“You seemed to hesitate. What was that about? Even if you are safe ninety percent of the time, you can still get an STD, so it’s important to be honest.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I averted my gaze to the poster on the wall behind Dr. Thompson. I debated if I should lie and just say that I used condoms all the time, but I worried that that might lead to more complex questions.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve…” I gulped, “I’ve never actually had sex.”

“You’re a virgin?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes for a second, hoping that I would disappear. I knew that Jimmy had been having casual sex with a few girls. He had been pushing me to do the same. I let him think that I had hooked up with a few girls but I wasn’t sure if he really believed me. I knew that he had been open with his dad about his own sexual activity.

“Well, everyone is different,” he said. “I’d only been with one other woman before I married Mrs. Thompson.”

He could sense that I was embarrassed; he reached over and placed his hand on my kneecap. The image of him drying himself after getting out of the shower crowded into my mind as his skin made contact with mine. I remembered how the muscles in his thighs had bulged as he’d shifted his weight while toweling himself off. I pushed the thought away as quickly as I could. I felt a rush of butterflies stirring in my stomach.

He smiled at me and made an effort to look directly in my eyes. I gave attempted to reciprocate to show I appreciated him trying to put me at ease. He lifted his hand from my knee and settled back into his seat.

“Do you have any pain in your testicles? It might feel more like pressure than a sharp pain.”

“No.”

“What about when you masturbate? Do you notice anything out of the ordinary, like issues with ejaculation?”

“I’m not sure.”

I felt the blood rush to my face again; I knew that it had to be obvious that I was blushing. I wasn’t certain how to best phrase my answer without it making me sound completely pathetic.

“Holden, you have to be honest if you want me to be able to do an accurate assessment,” he said. “I promise, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard before.”

“I have an issue, but it has been around for as long as I can remember, so I don’t think it’s connected to the lump. I, um, I cum, I mean ‘ejaculate’ really easily. I’ll see guys last for a long time when I watch porn, but I just don’t understand how they do it.”

Dr. Thompson chuckled and shook his head from side to side. He made a quick note in the chart. I wished that he hadn’t written anything down. I cringed thinking that Dr. Kim would see ‘cums too quickly’ in my chart when he returned to the office.

“That’s completely normal, Holden,” he said. “Most young guys can only last five minutes or so. Those guys in porn have a lot of tricks they use to keep themselves from cumming when they are hammering away for an hour.”

I didn’t feel reassured. I had never lasted close to five minutes. If I was super horny I could cum in thirty seconds after getting hard; two minutes was how long I could last if I had already cum that day or if I tried to slow things down. I didn’t tell Dr. Thompson any of that since I didn’t want him to pity me, and it would undoubtedly extend the visit.

“Okay, I’m going to listen to your heart really quick.”

Dr. Thompson pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and put it on. He walked over so he was standing next to me. I felt the buttons on his dress shirt brush against the exposed skin on my flank. He placed his right hand on my shoulder and used his left hand to hold the stethoscope against my chest.

“You can keep breathing,” he said. “You don’t need to hold your breath.”

He rubbed my shoulder with his hand in a reassuring manner as he bent closer to my chest. I inhaled the scent of his sandalwood aftershave. I closed my eyes; the memory of him, naked, popped into my mind again. I watched the movie play for a few seconds: drops of water dripping from his silvery hair, and his fat cock gently swaying as he buffed himself with the plush towel.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought to myself. My dick was starting to react to the intrusive thoughts. The nerve endings were beginning to tingle with energy. I could feel the tissue in my member engorge underneath the smooth skin of my palm. The only saving grace was that I didn’t get completely hard; I was only at about half-mast.

“You heart rate is a little fast, but it’s probably related to the stress about the lump,” Dr. Thompson said.

He sat back down in his chair in front of me and made a note about my heart rate in the chart. I tried to think of anything to make myself go soft again. I focused on a mental image of my elderly math teacher’s spider veins. It had worked once before when I’d needed to go soft before giving a presentation in class.

Dr. Thompson used the wheels on his chair to scoot it next to the side of the exam table. He placed the chart on his lap.

“I’m going to need you to recline so you are lying flat on the table,” he said.

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