Doctor's First Prostate Massage

Lube drizzled down his crack, hands braced his hips, and with no other warning, Dr. Patrick's cock breached his virgin hole.

"Wait, Jeremy --" Dr. Harrison gasped. But Dr. Patrick didn't.

The other doctor's pole was much thicker than anything Dr. Harrison's ass had accepted before, stretching him open in a way that wasn't exactly painful, but wasn't exactly not. He grunted, and struggled, and pleaded to slow down, but he might as well have been mute, for all the good it did. That unyielding rod kept on forcing itself where it didn't belong, until it was the only thing in the universe. And he was absolutely defenseless against it.

The invasion was gradual but resolute, short strokes in, brief retreats back, then forward again to claim more flesh. Despite being physically unpleasant, something about the relentlessness was incredibly hot. He had agreed to this -- under duress, sure, but still -- and now he had to take it. He panted his way through the cramping, trying to figure out how to release the tight rings of muscle.

Sooner than he would have chosen, Dr. Patrick's entire cock was fully encased in his back channel. For a moment it just sat there, the sense of ownership absolute, as if it might become a permanent feature of Dr. Harrison's body. He wished more than ever that he could see the man behind him. There were still no words or sounds from the other doctor, and Dr. Harrison prayed to god that his onetime friend wasn't actually a sadist.

When the fucking started, it was bearable, but just. There were sharp protests from his passage that made him wince, and a burning sensation despite the lubrication. He gritted his teeth, resigned to waiting out Dr. Patrick's lust.

A few minutes later, his experience had changed. The thrusts were no longer hurting, and his nerve endings were warming to the steady rubbing inside him. Particularly those that the vibrator had already sensitized. His own erection, which had vanished during the impersonal onslaught, revived.

There was a shift, and Dr. Patrick's swollen cockhead was rubbing right over his prostate, igniting a blaze that spread through his core and into his cock. Oh, god, this must be why homosexual men had been called "gay": Who wouldn't be ecstatic with a thick rod like this ravishing him, electrifying his pleasure center? Forget reproduction -- the penis was obviously invented to plumb this dirtiest, most forbidden place in his body. He became aware that pornographic moans were coming from his own mouth, but he couldn't figure out how to stop.

That was when a finger and thumb enclosed his right nipple, pulling it erect through his shirt, lighting up every sensitive micrometer. That simple act seemed to unravel him. Everything in his head swirled so intensely that he lost track of the difference between pleasure and denial, between choice and compulsion, between trust and betrayal.

At some point he realized that the movement in his ass had stopped. He clenched around the other doctor's cock and felt it jerk in response.

"You've been so good, Blake." Dr. Patrick was leaning over him, his low murmur laden with desire, and something almost like affection. "If you want to come now, I'll let you. But I'd like you to give me one more thing, if you will."

"I'll do whatever you want," Dr. Harrison whispered back, this time not to escape punishment, but from a genuine belief that wherever Dr. Patrick wanted to take him was worth going. Yes, the other doctor had exploited him, but in the service of bringing him here -- this terrifyingly vulnerable, fearlessly flying place of ecstasy, and he never wanted to leave.

A hand closed over the cuff on his right wrist. "I want to take these off. I want you to restrain yourself, without being forced. It'll be so much better if you choose it."

A thrill of fear-tinged excitement ran through him. As long as he was physically immobilized, he didn't really bear responsibility for what had happened -- what was happening. Anyone would agree that he had been coerced. But what would it feel like to be fucked, to be touched the way he had been tonight, without the restraints to protect him? Heat rose to his face, and his cock flexed. God help him, he wanted to know.

He teetered on the precipice of surrender. He only had to say one word, but for a minute it was impossible.

"Ok," he whispered at last.

Dr. Patrick pulled out and wiped himself down. Dr. Harrison's knees, then his wrists, were released, and Dr. Patrick helped him straighten. He stretched muscles that ached from being bent over for so long, while the other doctor raised the exam table to waist height. Then a hand on his shoulder prompted him to turn around.

For the first time since before the "procedure" started, he faced his colleague on equal terms. Dr. Patrick hadn't removed any of his clothing. He was in an oxford shirt, his twill pants unzipped, naked cock standing proudly out of his trunks. Dr. Harrison didn't do any of the things he would have if he'd been free twenty minutes ago: run, yell, punch the other doctor in the balls. Instead, he let Dr. Patrick guide him to lie back on the exam table. Let him pull his arms above his head, let him bend his knees and push his feet to the side, resting them in the stirrups. And he lay there, naked and obscenely exposed, willingly.

Damn, it was intense, leaving every inch of sensitive skin available for stroking, teasing, tickling. He shivered, hoping there wouldn't be too much of that last one. His back entrance twitched as he eyed the shaft that had just taken his virginity, that could plunge back into him at any moment. His own cock, straining and needy, was the one place he knew wouldn't get any touch.

Dr. Patrick stepped between his legs. His gaze caught Dr. Harrison's and held it for an endless moment.

"Close your eyes," Dr. Patrick instructed quietly.

Every instinct rebelled. Lying here helpless was difficult enough. Being able to anticipate what he was going to feel would at least give him some context, help him control his response. Without that...

"Close your eyes, Blake," the other doctor repeated, staring into them.

Somehow he found the strength to obey, and the loss of sight was terrifying. He had a miniature panic attack, muscles trembling, lungs straining for air. It felt like his skin was exploding everywhere at once.

"You're ok." A hand pressed into the center of his chest, startling him, then grounding him. "Focus right here. Breathe." Dr. Patrick's voice was steady, soothing. "Don't worry about what's going to happen. Let me decide that."

A surge of precome dripped onto his stomach, but he relaxed a little. He heard the snap of plastic, then the other doctor's cock was pressing slickly into his hole again. He couldn't help blushing when he thought of what he must look like, lying here while another man used his ass. Not resisting at all.

Desire flared as the solid length buried itself deep inside him, and his back arched in anticipation of the delicious rubbing against his prostate.

But nothing happened. No movement. No rubbing. Just waves of frustration rippling continuously outward from the stationary cock in his ass.

Dr. Harrison took a shuddering breath. All he had to do was thrust his own hips, and he could grind against the shaft impaling him so temptingly. But he couldn't, he couldn't! That was the agreement -- to restrain himself. He could practically feel Dr. Patrick's eyes on him, enjoying his suffering. How long was the other doctor going to make him wait like this? And why the hell was being not-fucked turning him on so much?

"You going to stay still for me?" Dr. Patrick asked tantalizingly.

"Y-yes..."

"Even if I do this?"

Something touched his inner thigh, making him jump a little in surprise. Soft fingers traced the smooth, tender skin there, up and down. He bit back a giggle, and a moan. It tickled so much, but even more than that, the deliberate touch to such a sensitive place was deadly arousing. The sensations blurred together until he was trembling with the effort of not protecting himself from the ticklish touch, not stimulating himself on the rod lodged in his back channel.

"I -- I'm trying," he gasped.

"Ah, Blake, that's so fucking good," Dr. Patrick told him. "So hot, the way you spasm around my cock. I've never felt anything like it."

Dr. Patrick's hand moved to his side, caressed him lightly, then slid over his stomach. One finger reached the edge of his belly button, and he held his breath, sucking in his abdomen. It was an unreasonably sensitive place for him, and of course, Dr. Patrick somehow picked that up. The finger circled slowly around the tiny crater until it finally dipped inside, wiggling in a god-awful way that had his nerves singing and his cock burning.

"Jeremy, please not there!" he cried out when he could catch a breath between the near-hysterical laughs forced out of him.

He didn't move away, though. He was starting to see the appeal of being at someone else's mercy. These touches were unbearable, yet the pleasure coursing through him was better than any orgasm he'd ever had.

"Oh, yes, here is perfect," Dr. Patrick crooned.

His finger paused right in the middle of all those nerve endings, then twisted slowly against them. Dr. Harrison giggled and shuddered.

"Feeling you fight to accept my teasing when you're this horny is heaven on my cock. I could come just from you blazing and pulsing around me."

A few more light touches inside his belly button, and several more shudders, and the finger moved on, tracing downward along the trail of hair leading to his groin. He groaned, wishing the other doctor would continue all the way down his cock, but there was no point in hoping.

All contact ceased, except the cock still buried in his ass. He tensed, waiting in thrilling agony for the next touch.

It was the very tip of his nipple. He hissed. It felt like a tongue, but that was impossible given the angle at which Dr. Patrick was not-fucking him. The wet, feather-light touches to his naked nipple were unraveling all other thoughts in his head, but eventually he worked out that Dr. Patrick must have slicked his finger with saliva.

The same touch on the other side. The sensation of both nipples being stroked and nudged by imitation tongues overloaded his nervous system in short order.

"Stop, stop, you're going to make me come!" he exclaimed desperately.

He'd never had a reason to know that he could orgasm from such indirect contact, but in this state of sky-high arousal, he genuinely couldn't have stopped his cock from exploding if Dr. Patrick hadn't heeded his warning and removed his hands. Dr. Harrison panted, eyes squeezed shut.

"You promised you wouldn't do that again," he whined as his cock throbbed with a third denial.

"Sorry. I didn't realize that would take you so close to the edge. But since you're here..."

A saliva-soaked thumb brushed lightly over one hard nipple, sending a current of pleasure through his body and pushing him back to the verge of orgasm.

"Jeremy!"

He fought hard to let the wave of need pass over him without going under.

"Damn, you squeeze me so tight when you're trying not to come," Dr. Patrick moaned. "I swear to god, it's even better than fucking you."

Hearing about it wasn't helping. It would be so easy to let go, let the orgasm flood through him, release all the pressure.

"Please let me, please let me, I need to come," Dr. Harrison chanted.

"I can see that." Dr. Patrick's voice was husky with lust. "Trust me, I need it too. But I want to enjoy you just a little longer." He laid a hand in the center of Dr. Harrison's chest again. "Relax for me."

Dr. Harrison had no idea why he was obeying; maybe it was just habit at this point. He slowly regained control, letting go of some of the tension. The need didn't slacken, but he could breathe again. The hand on his chest lifted.

Keeping his muscles slack and defenseless while he waited for the next touch was nearly impossible. It finally came, a lingering wet stroke over both nipples, ratcheting him to the edge of orgasm again in an instant. Again, he held off his own satisfaction, and Dr. Patrick groaned shamelessly, his shaft twitching against Dr. Harrison's insides.

"Oh, Blake." Surprisingly, a hand stroked soothingly over his sweat-damp hair. "I know I shouldn't have taken advantage of your trust. I forced you to do things with me that you wouldn't otherwise have done, and I'm sorry. I never expected to have an opportunity to see you like this, or to touch you. I got carried away."

Somehow, listening to this apology while still laying spread-out and unable to see was as difficult as anything else he had submitted to. He was embarrassingly conscious of his erection, still naked and throbbing between them, not to mention the fact that the other doctor's cock was inserted in his ass.

"I want you to know how much I've enjoyed this," Dr. Patrick went on. "And I know you've enjoyed it too, or you wouldn't be laying here right now, unrestrained, letting me torment you with pleasure."

Dr. Harrison knew he was blushing. His whole face and neck were hot, and he wished he could hide. He had no idea how to respond.

"You don't have to say anything," the other doctor said, rescuing him. "I'm going to let you come, and I'll collect the sample. Then I'm going to come inside your fine ass. After that, you're free to go, and we can pretend this never happened. I won't ever bring it up or use it against you. But I'll be around. And now you know what I can do."

Fingertips brushed across the hollow of Dr. Harrison's armpit. He yelped and clenched his fists, but more fingertips ran across his balls, trapped against Dr. Patrick's torso. The combination of teasing and tickling sent shocks all through him until he couldn't distinguish what he was feeling where.

"So," Dr. Patrick's voice came back to him when the sparks subsided. "If you ever want to play again, just let me know."

Before he could fully absorb that offer, Dr. Harrison heard what sounded like a cap being unscrewed. That must be the sample cup. Finally, finally he would get his release.

"Alright. If you want the strongest orgasm, hold off until you absolutely can't anymore, but come when you need to."

In a moment, Dr. Patrick's thumb added more saliva to his nipple and resumed stroking, this time without stopping. At the same time, he pulled out a bit from Dr. Harrison's ass and began thrusting, angling against his swollen prostate.

Knowing he was finally going to be able to give in made everything sweeter: the unyielding shaft stroking up into his core, the heavenly contact against his pleasure center, the sense of indulging in something forbidden. The slick glide over his nipple, the wanton helplessness of his position, the tingling in his balls as they drew in.

His climax was coming on fast. He resisted for those last few moments while the pleasure rose inside him like a pitch climbing to intolerably shrill registers. It reached that peak of perfect resonation, and he shattered like glass with the force of his orgasm.

It was absolutely all-encompassing. His body arched and strained so hard it probably would have hurt had he been able to feel anything but ecstasy. Fluid spurted out of his untouched cock, the contractions endless. Dr. Patrick's hand was somewhere on his torso, probably trying to hold him steady enough to catch all the ejaculate.

Then the other doctor was gripping his waist tightly and plunging into him fiercely. In moments, Dr. Patrick was crying out with his own climax, which seemed to last just as long as Dr. Harrison's. Eyes still closed, Dr. Harrison drifted, bliss and exhaustion overtaking him. He was dimly aware of Dr. Patrick moving around him, gently pulling his arms down from over his head, and shifting his legs into a more normal position. There were things needing done, like getting dressed and getting home, but he figured he could worry about those later. Maybe tomorrow. Or next year.

When he came to, one of the thin white hospital blankets had been laid over him. Dr. Patrick was there, pulling the chair that held his clothes to where he could reach it. Seeing Dr. Harrison's eyes open, he tentatively stroked a hand through his hair again. Strangely, the gentleness didn't so much contrast with his other behaviors tonight as complement them.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Patrick asked.

Dr. Harrison studied the man beside him. The other doctor looked entirely the same as he had when he'd walked into this room a couple of hours ago. Like his friend. Not really like someone who had tricked him, threatened him, tied him up and fucked him, under conditions of quite dubious consent. At first, anyway. There was no way to pretend he hadn't enthusiastically consented for that last part.

Looking back on the whole thing, his overriding sense was of being cared for, not exploited. Maybe that didn't make any sense, but maybe it did. As embarrassed as Dr. Harrison had been all evening, he didn't feel that way anymore. He felt...accomplished. Sated. Powerful.

He sat up slowly, joints stiff after so much strain. There was a deep fatigue in his body, but his brain seemed to work again at least.

"I'm fine, Jeremy," he answered at last. "Just tired. And probably going to be pretty sore."

Dr. Patrick nodded. "Definitely take some aspirin. Do you feel up to driving home?"

"I think so. It's only five minutes."

"Good. I'll leave you to get dressed." But the other doctor hesitated. "Thank you, Blake," he said quietly, eyes intent on Dr. Harrison's.

Dr. Harrison returned his gaze. "You know, Amber probably wouldn't mind if I needed to stay an hour or two late at work once in a while. I bet Mallory wouldn't mind either."

He waited for his friend to grasp his meaning, watching his face. The eagerness there made him smile.

"I'm sure we could work that out." Dr. Patrick smiled back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep. See you tomorrow." Sore ass and all.