The Procedure Ch. 02

It was hard to let go of these events over the coming weeks. With the slightest trigger, my mind would return to the sensation of being filled, lying on the examination couch, helpless in ecstasy. Anything salty drew to mind the taste of the doctor's cum in my mouth, and the mind-bending orgasm that followed it.

I was constantly horny, leaking into my pants like a tap in need of a new washer.

Amazingly, life continued around me as if nothing had happened. My girlfriend seemed to notice my return to normal sexual function, unaware of the fantasies filling my head as we fucked.

I continued to function, working hard at my job, wondering if my co-workers could see something different about me.

Behind my casual façade, though, I was a man obsessed. Suddenly a new world had opened before me. A world of potential pleasures began to unfold.

I had found a new form of pleasure, unlike anything I'd experienced before. I longed to find a way to bring it forth once again.

Sitting at work, I looked around at my male colleagues. Men who I'd worked with for years suddenly held a new interest for me. They'd walk past and I'd check out the bulge in the pants, wondering how big they were and what they'd feel like inside me.

Often, I found myself needing to make excuses to stay at my desk for fear of exposing the raging hard-on in my pants.

A few times I tried following the hotter members of my office into the men's room, hoping to catch a glimpse of them at the urinal. My attempts were clumsy, though, and after a drawing a particularly quizzical look from one such target, I decided it was safer to leave it be.

In search of a more anonymous venue to observe the male form, I decided to take up swimming once again. It was an obvious step. I had once been a good swimmer, regularly using it as my main form of exercise. The pressures of work and relationships, though, had seen the hobby fall by the wayside, and it had been a few years since I'd swum.

My girlfriend was supportive of the idea, even encouraging, as she glanced momentarily at my waistline. I suppressed my annoyance at her unconscious inference and pretended to be excited about my new-found fitness kick.

I wasted no time reinstating my membership and went for my first swim within the week. It only took one or two laps for me to remember how much I'd enjoyed the meditative aspect of the rhythmic strokes in the cool water.

In no time, 30 minutes had already passed, and I could feel the pleasant burn signalling a good workout.

Gliding slowly to the edge, I pulled myself out of the water, wincing slightly as I noticed a few protesting muscles.

As I grabbed my towel from the poolside, I noticed a fit, muscular guy in a nicely stretched speedo walking ahead of me into the showers. Remembering my initial motivation for coming, I smiled internally and followed him in.

The change rooms had changed in the time since my last visit. I was surprised to see that the gang showers had been replaced with individual cubicles. Dismayed, I wondered if my plans had been thwarted.

I looked around to see that all was not lost. The guy in question stood by a bench in the corner, towelling himself off slowly. He glanced back at me over his shoulder, his gaze lingering just a little.

Following his lead, I put my bag down on a bench nearby, glancing at him casually, so as not to be noticed. The towel felt amazing as it rubbed across my cool flesh, a sure sign that I was beginning to get horny.

I glanced down at my bathers, glad to see that nothing was showing just yet.

I turned back to the guy in time to see him loop his thumbs into the sides of his speedo, bending at the waist as he slid them down his legs, baring his muscular, hairless arse.

I stood transfixed as he stepped from the wet material, a glimpse of his swinging sack showing briefly between his legs.

Straightening, he grabbed his towel and turned, glancing at me again as he walked past slowly towards the showers.

His cock swung freely before him as he passed close by me, the towel draped over his shoulder, making no attempt to conceal his nakedness.

I knew he saw me watching, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. His cock was a little above average length with a smooth hood concealing a bulbous head. Its girth was something to marvel at though, thick and meaty, with tortuous veins decorating the pale skin.

My arse clenched involuntarily, as if already imagining it drilling into me.

The guy paused at the entrance to his cubicle, directly across from me, and looked back over his shoulder. He hung his towel on the hook and stepped inside, leaving the door open.

I stood there no longer trying to conceal the fact that I was watching him, knowing he was happy to be watched. My cock hardened inside my bathers, the leaking precum unseen through the already-wet material.

Facing the shower head, he stepped under the water, letting it flow in a glistening stream over his head and down his torso, dripping from his naked arse and down his legs.

He reached for the body wash beside him, squirting it onto his hands. Turning to face me, he rubbed the soap slowly across his chest, sliding his hands down his torso and abdomen towards his hardening cock.

The soap dripped from him, water running from the end of his cock in a pissing stream.

His hands moved down, circling across his upper thighs and up under his balls, grasping their weighty mass in one hand. He stared at me directly, barely blinking as he began to stroke himself.

His cock was hard now as he responded to his own touch. It was truly an impressive sight. The swollen, throbbing flesh arched proudly upward, a delicious curve gracing the final third. The engorged head slowly emerged through the retracting foreskin, revealing a flared rim.

I could almost feel it ramming against my prostate, the pleasure rippling through my body as he fucked me.

In a trance, I took a step towards the shower. There was no decision, no conscious thought. Just a visceral need to have him inside me.

The sound of footsteps shook me from my trance. I jumped as I saw a large old bloke walk in, oblivious to what he had just interrupted. Panicked I turned away, hiding my erection as best I could.

The guy in the shower simply smiled and closed the door, the moment gone.

I drove home quickly, nursing a semi the whole way. Relieved to see my girlfriend still at work, I rushed inside and rubbed out a huge load onto my belly. The image of soapy water running from his trimmed sack seemed burned in my brain.

**********

I became obsessed with cock. Whenever I had a moment to myself, I watched porn. It was straight porn initially, as if by reflex, but lack of focus on my preferred anatomic feature, while not at all surprising was frustrating.

I imagined what each one would feel like sliding inside me. What would that curve do as it bumped past my prostate? Would I be able to fit that huge girth inside me? What would it be like staring up at that muscular torso while he impaled me?

Pretty soon, I made the natural progression to gay porn. Despite a constant fear that I would be found out, the new aspect of porn was like an awakening. Such a huge new variety of pleasures to experience.

I tended to only watch porn in the shed for fear my girlfriend would come home and find me jerking off to some dudes fucking. The shed was my domain. The smell of oil and sawdust gave me an instant calm. I began to wonder why I'd never used this for some 'alone time' before.

One afternoon, with the house unexpectedly to myself as my girlfriend worked late, I headed out to the shed for one such session.

iPad under my arm, I spread out a picnic rug on the cool concrete floor and stripped off my pants. Before long I was hard and stroking, watching a compilation of guys getting the cum fucked out of them.

It never took me long to get into the zone these days. A few strokes were all it took to get me hard. My free hand tickling my tight arsehole and I was soon leaking like a faucet under my foreskin.

An internet glitch caused a momentary freeze on my chosen porn and my eyes wandered around me as I waited for it to come back.

My attention was taken by a bucket of old metal parts that had gathered over the years sitting beside me. All of them things without a proper home -- doorknobs lacking an inner mechanism, broken taps, etc. Things I would likely never need but couldn't bring myself to throw away.

Sticking out the top of the bucket was a foot long metal rod with a rounded rubber ball attached to one end. Who knew what purpose it had served in its day?

I stroked away, staring at the rod, wondering what it would feel like sliding into me, the rubber ball the perfect size to rub against my prostate.

I reached over and pulled hard on the end to test it. There was no way I wanted that rubber ball getting lost inside my arse!

Satisfied that it was secure, I stood up, hard cock bouncing around, and grabbed some Vaseline off the workbench.

I smeared the greasy substance liberally over the end of the rod and ball, making sure it was well covered. For good measure, I reached between my legs and spread some around my tight hole as well, slipping a fingertip inside for good measure as I went.

I looked at the rod, wondering how best to get it inside me. It was a little longer than was strictly practical.

Finally deciding, I knelt down on the rug on all fours, angling the rod behind me and gripping it with my bare feet. My cock poked up at my T-shirt, leaving a wet smudge.

The end of the rod braced against the wall behind me as I slowly pushed back against it, directing the round head straight at my greased hole.

It was larger than I was used to, and my sphincter protested against the attempted intrusion. With some concentration, I pushed down, consciously relaxing the muscle to allow entry.

With a sharp, painful protest, my arse gave way, admitting the round ball with a sudden give, and snapping shut again around the narrow rod. As quickly as it came, the sharp pain vanished, and I breathed again, relishing the sense of fullness that I'd longed for.

Allowing myself a few seconds to adjust, I watched the iPad beside me as a large, girthy cock disappeared up a smooth, pale arse. Fuck that was hot!

Feeling my spasming muscles finally relax, I pushed myself down along the rod, slowly plunging the rubber ball into my arse.

I moaned as it entered me, stretching my insides once again. With great anticipation I approached my prostate, whimpering as the shocks of pleasure rippled through me with the glancing touch of the rubber ball.

Fluid streamed from my dick as I fucked myself back against the rigid rod, again and again. My cock throbbed violently, as if protesting the lack of attention I was paying it.

A puddle of fluid soon gathered beneath me as I slowly plunged the ball inside me again and again. My legs shuddered as the prostatic climaxes rippled through my body.

Finally, I could feel my true orgasm approaching. My cock swelled as if it would burst through its skin. I gripped it with one hand, stroking the slick, wet flesh as I fucked myself.

Just as my climax started building, I was startled by the sound of the door opening. To my horror I looked up to see my girlfriend enter, shock on her face as she looked at my kneeling form.

Without thinking, I jumped up, knocking the iPad flat and displaying in full view the ejaculating cock on the screen.

My arse clenched down as I moved, gripping hold of the rod and ball and holding it inside me. Naked from the waist down I rose to my feet, erection standing in full force before me. The rod wobbled violently with my movement, the ball inside my arse knocking firmly against my prostate as it jerked back and forth.

I looked at her in horror as the jerking movement against my sensitive gland threw me headfirst over the precipice into a full orgasm. My knees buckled and I steadied myself with my hands on my thighs as I tried to stifle a moan.

My cock throbbed, thrusting out through the confines of my foreskin as the inevitable orgasm took over. My whole body convulsed as my balls contracted, shooting a thick, white rope of cum arching through the air and landing at her feet.

As it splashed down, another and another followed, coating the floor between us with the sticky substance.

Powerless to stop it, I felt my arse contracting rhythmically with my ejaculation. The heavy weight of the rod pulled down against my sphincter, fighting for escape against the contracting muscle.

As the spasms finally drew to an end, the weight of the metal finally won, and the ball slid from my arse with a triumphant 'pop', followed by a loud clang as it hit the ground.

Mortified, I stood before her, my cock slowly melting, with a long, lazy drop of cum swinging violently from its end. The bottom of my T-shirt was dark with absorbed secretions. The unmistakable smell of sweat and arse and cum hung in the air.

She stared at me silently, furious judgement raging on her face. She looked progressively down at my flaccid cock, the trail of cum on the floor and the continuing gay fuck-fest playing on my iPad. Shaking her head, she turned and walked out the door.

**********

The humiliating incident really signalled the end of our relationship. We fought over it for a few days, both trying to convince ourselves that it could still work between us, when we knew deep down that it was over.

When she finally packed her things and left, the predominant emotion that I could identify was relief.

I began to realise how trapped I had been feeling in the life we were building together. My constant attempts to live up to her expectations were exhausting.

Despite the obvious trauma of our breakup, and the mortifying embarrassment of her discovery, I realised that I was glad to be free again.

Finally, I felt like I had a chance to explore this new-found aspect of my sexuality. The problem I rapidly came across, though, was that I had no idea how to go about it.

I had returned to the pool almost daily since the original encounter in the change room, but to my disappointment, I'd never come across the guy I'd seen the first time, and even fleeting eye contact with other guys there seemed impossible and awkward.

I knew of a couple of gay bars in town, but the thought of walking into one just seemed a step too far. Despite all that had happened, I still didn't identify myself as gay, and the thought that someone else might seemed terrifying.

A slim sliver of hope returned to me unexpectedly one afternoon, about a fortnight after my girlfriend had walked out. Finally finding the motivation to tidy up my closet now that I had some empty real-estate, I set to the task on a rainy day off.

Dredging through the embarrassingly large pile of dirty clothes, I came across the pants and shirt that I'd worn to that fateful doctor's appointment those weeks before.

Covered in cum and secretions, I'd quickly taken them off on arriving home and thrown them bundled into the bottom of my closet, racing for the shower before she got home. My plans to throw them in the wash without her knowing had clearly fallen by the wayside.

I pulled them out, dried cum stains crinkling as I shook out the pants. Somewhere between disgusted and turned on, my attention was taken by a small card that fell from the pocket onto the floor as I threw them into the laundry basket.

I bent and picked it up, see the familiar doctor's business card. Just as I went to throw it in the rubbish, I noticed some writing on the other side.

I flipped it over and read the scrawled message.

"Call me sometime. Julian x". His number was the only accompaniment to the message.

I stared, transfixed. The simple 'x' stared back at me, carrying as many questions as it did answers.

I cast my mind back to that day; Julian the 20-something medical student, handing me my bundled clothes as I stood dumbfounded, cum dripping from me and running down my chin.

He must have slipped the note into the pocket without me noticing.

I sat on the bed, staring at the unexpected message. My face was flushed as I remembered that day in exquisite detail.

I'd thought about it many times, replaying the events over and over. This time, though, Julian's was the only face I saw.

I pictured him looking down at me as he slid his cock inside, watching my face to make sure I was ok. I saw his face as he came in my arse, the intense pleasure rippling across his expression. I watched again as my cock disappeared down his throat as he worked to give me pleasure.

I sat on the edge of my bed, wracked with indecision. Had it been too long? Would he already have forgotten who I was? What if it was some bizarre accident that this ended up in my pocket?

Undecided, I set the card on my bedside table, continuing to sort through the mess in the closet. My mind was in turmoil as I worked through my options. What would I even say if I called?

Finally, that evening, I decided. I had to find out what would happen.

Sitting in my kitchen, eating reheated leftovers for dinner, I clasped my phone in one hand trying to compose a message that didn't sound entirely lame.

Hey Julian, it's Wes from Dr Anton's office the other week. Meet up? Give me a call.

Forcing myself to hit send I set the phone aside, trying to stop myself from getting my hopes up. There was no way he was going to call.

Less than 5 minutes passed before my phone rang. I stared at it, shocked, nearly letting it ring out before I shook myself and answered.

"Hey, man, it's Julian. How's your Friday going?"

"Yeah, well I'm sitting here eating leftover lasagne, so, you know. I'd call that a raging night. You?"

"Well, my housemates have all gone away for the weekend, and I'm sitting here trying to study physiology, so clearly way cooler than you!" his chuckle relaxed me instantly. His voice was deeper than I remembered, but it felt warm. Safe.

There was an awkward silence while I tried to work out what to say next. He jumped in, saving me.

"You want to come round and have a beer? I'm about done for the day, I think. My brain's fried!"

I hesitated as my mind grappled with what I was about to do. He jumped in again.

"There's no pressure, you know. We don't have to do anything. We can just have a beer and chill if you want."

My face flushed bright red as I realised how transparent I was. At the same time, I was grateful for his understanding.

"Sure thing." I managed. "Sounds good."

I scrawled his address on an empty envelope sitting on the bench and we hung up. I leaned back against the bench, a smile on my face. I was scared shitless, but finally something was going to happen.

I frantically ran the clippers over my body and jumped in the shower, scrubbing myself thoroughly. Trying and failing to choose an outfit that made me look hotter than I really was without looking like I was trying too hard, I got dressed and headed for the car.

By coincidence, his house was only a 15-minute drive away, and before long I was knocking at his front door.

I couldn't believe how quickly this had all happened. Just this morning, I'd woken, wondering if I'd ever be able to work out how to explore this new side of myself. Now, just hours later, here I was standing at the door of someone I knew could help me.

He opened the door, a tight blue shirt and faded jeans showing off his muscular body to good effect.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't call." He said as he let me in to his living room. "I wondered how you would process it all, actually. You didn't look like someone who'd experimented in that way before."

"Yeah, you got that right." I agreed as I walked in behind him.

He gestured to the couch and turned to head towards the kitchen.