The Urologist Cougar

I let her, this time, and was unashamed of my tears.

"That's my good boy," she said, kissing me, her hand moving down, slowly, very gently, and again cupping my balls, swollen and aching. When she gave a tiny squeeze I screamed a little, and she giggled.

She rolled off of the bed and then offered her hand. I stood on shaky legs. Her drugs were REALLY working on me. I was still hard and my balls were swollen. When she started leading me out of the bedroom I realized I was taking short, shuffling steps and had to giggle because the image of my grandfather flashed into my mind.

"Come on, sweety," she said, giggling a little herself.

We walked, well, she walked and I sort of shuffled, into the kitchen. She laid a pair thick potholders on the central island and said, "forearms here, sweetcheeks."

I shuffled over and laid my forearms where she had indicated, leaving me in an awkward, bent-over position.

She patted my ass, making me cry out when her fingertip missed and hit my swollen balls, and said in a cheerful voice, something I could imagine her using at her office, "be right back, now don't you run off."

So I tried to relax, but between my sore balls and the ache deep in my belly, it was hard. Well, and my hardon was hard too.

She was back in just a minute or so and I watched as she laid a white tube with a prescription label on it, a medium-size water glass, a roll of surgical tape, and a tiny key on the table in front of me.

"Do you trust me, David," she asked and I sort of chuckled.

"Yes," I said.

"Okay, now relax," she said, taking the key and then unlocking the band around the base of my erection.

"Easy now," she said, her voice very soothing, as she opened the band and took it off.

I groaned as the blood flow was restored. My cock felt like your leg or arm after it's gone to sleep, that deep-seated tingling adding another layer of sensation to my already overloaded system.

She was rubbing my back very gently as I squirmed and groaned. Her left hand was on my forearms where they laid on the potholders, holding them still.

It took a few minutes before that odd little agony of my cock waking up passed.

"Now," she said, her breath warm in my ear, "these stay right here," she said, touching my forearms. "If you don't have at least that much control I'm sending you home, got it?"

"Yes," I said, nodding my head.

"First," she said, with the hoarse chuckle deep in her throat, "let's take care of this." She pressed that spot low on my belly, held the pressure, and my erection wilted. It was a relief, the erection had grown painful.

"Okay, she said, cheerful now, "here we go."

She pulled off a piece of the surgical tape about two feet long. Then she moved behind me, used her fingers to pull my left ass cheek apart, stuck the end of the tape deep in the crack she revealed, and then stuck it to my hip, holding that cheek wide. She repeated on the right, leaving me with my ass cheeks taped spread open.

She took the tube and loaded her fingertip with the clear material she extruded, it looked like vaseline.

"I told you you'd like it," she said, tracing the shell of my ear with her tongue.

The stuff felt cold on my asshole as she started working it in. It was obviously more than just a lubricant. It started to tingle, a very pleasant sensation, and then started getting warm.

She was rubbing my back, very gently with her left hand as her right worked on my ass.

She took her time, was gentle in a way, working in a second finger and then a third. There was no pain, just pressure, and the delightfully warm tingling.

"Relax now sugar," she said, "we're getting close now."

And I realized it wasn't a matter of relaxing. Hell, I couldn't have squeezed if I wanted to.

"Okay baby, here we go," she said, and I felt a sudden pressure and then it eased as she got her whole hand in there.

"Deep breath, David," she said and I filled my lungs.

She used her left hand to pick up the water glass she had laid on the kitchen island.

Her fingertip found my prostate gland, just touching, and she kissed my ear and whispered, "here we go."

When she pressed I came. Just like that but it was beyond any ejaculation I ever experienced. I hit that place immediately, that instant every man recognizes, that instant when the pressure builds and ejaculation begins.

And then I kept going. There were no hard muscular contractions involved. I was just flowing.

And flowing.

And flowing.

I could feel my prostate slowly draining, and my balls slowly draining.

And flowing.

And it went on.

I couldn't breathe.

Hell, I didn't want to breathe. All that mattered was what she was doing.

And it went on.

When I finally stopped flowing I gasped a breath.

"Relax," she whispered again.

Suddenly she squeezed, forcing the last of my semen out.

I yelled at that, "OH JESUS!!!!!!!!!!"

"About finished," she said, squeezing now, massaging, milking the last tiny drops out of me.

"Stay with me now," she said as my knees started to give away. I tried to straighten up again as she finished with my prostate.

"That's right, baby," she said in that same soothing voice, "relax now."

Again I felt the pressure as she pulled her hand free.

My eyes were closed and I heard a rustling as she opened something.

When she patted my right foot I lifted it, kind of automatically, and then the left. I felt her pulling something up and when I looked down it wasn't my boxers.

"What?" I managed.

She giggled a little and said, "think of them as adult PullUps. You'll need them. You're VERY stretched out now and that salve has a VERY powerful muscle relaxer. Trust me, you'd be a mess in the morning if you didn't have these on."

I sort of moaned I think. It's about all I had the energy for.

"Okay, baby," she said, "stand up straight now."

She had the water glass in her hand and took a drink as I watched.

When she handed me the glass I looked into it and then back at her.

"Go ahead honey, it's just you," she said. "Hell, you like having that beautiful cock sucked and cumming in a woman's mouth, don't you? So at least see what you taste like."

I looked into the glass, about one-third full, and then back at her.

She didn't say anything, just watched me.

I smiled, shrugged, and took a drink. It was salty and oily, and I thought for an instant my body was going to rebel but after a very slight retch, I swallowed without a problem.

We shared the glass, back and forth, in silence. Hell, I'm not sure I could have talked. I was still getting my breath back.

Finally, the glass was empty and she took my hand and led me back to bed.

We laid down and she adjusted her position and then lifted her breast, offering that tiny nipple to me and I latched on like a hungry baby.

"See," she said in a husky voice, barely above a whisper, "I told you you'd enjoy it if I gave you a prostate exam."

If she said anything further I didn't hear it. I was snoring.

[Author's note: If you want to see where David and Laura's relationship goes, leave a comment. I'm not sure if I'll return to the urologist and her boyfriend unless you all are interested.]