Gay Erotic Stories

I had my first appointment with Dr. H. years ago, because I wanted someone to check my prostate. (Around that time, I had let myself indulge in being fucked by many men, some with big cocks – my favorite having been a black older man's cock that always felt good while it was in me, but which left me incredibly sore. Additionally, I had rummaged around my parents' house (I was still in contact with them then) to find everyday items that were good for the same purpose, and I had found some grotesquely large objects that I put to too much use.) Dr. H.'s receptionist turned out to be his wife, and both of them were quite old. Dr. H. was a silent man, like my grandfather had been, and when he spoke he was authoritative and direct. His sense of humor was clinical, dry, caustic. Which meant that every time I went into his office, I was hard. (Whenever I was the only one waiting to see him, which was rarely, I let my penis poke through my zipper, and being young and impulsive, played a dangerous game: I let it poke out as I read a magazine to see if Dr. H.'s wife would ever notice it. I would then walk into his office that way, although I obviously never let it be seen – I hid it behind my book bag or something. I was always short of breath.) The first appointment was pure adrenaline. I described my problem as obliquely as possible. (He asked me if I was gay or straight, and I was suddenly struck with shyness and denied that I was gay.) I said I had trouble urinating and ejaculating. (Actually, I don't remember who decided we should slap on the gloves and examine my prostate, but it was done that very day – and many days afterward.) I pulled off my pants, and he examined my "front," as he shyly put it, for signs of STD, and blood began to pump embarrassingly into my cock as he sat before me, his face just inches from the thing that so many older men had clamped onto greedily as I came in their throats. Strangely (I thought), he stroked my inner thigh with his glove-covered hand. I stared at the ceiling and hoped my penis would go down. Sudden pain from my nether regions jerked my eyes downward: he was inserting a long swab down my erect penis. I didn't know whether to thrust or scream! He methodically swept the swab forward and back, almost hypnotically, and then he twirled he swab as he retracted it. I searched for something to distract myself, and saw a box with a strange word on it, from which I concocted what I thought would be its Latin root and asked him what the word I had just formulated meant. He looked up at me in awe and asked, "Do you speak Greek?" I said no, and smiled shyly. So the word was Greek and meant "eyelid." I thought, "In the blink of an eye, I'd let him fuck me up the ass." And just as soon as that was thought, I was bent over a table with his fingers up my ass as he felt my prostate. Every month I would come to see him. And every month the rectal exams seemed to take longer. I told my therapist (a woman) at the time that I didn't know if he was fucking me up the ass or what. She gave me a quizzical look, and I spread my legs a little to reveal that the pants I was wearing had a torn crotch that I found useful. I never wore underwear, and she could see my penis, I'm sure, but she never started sucking it or anything. For a few months I didn't see Dr. H. I was racked with guilt because every time I went to see him, I got so excited that I went out and fucked someone. The last time, I turned to the older black man I mentioned earlier for relief, and he brought in another black man from the same apartment building who had been eyeing me every time I had arrived there. That is, the black man I had been seeing left his friend to "watch TV in the living room," but left the bedroom door open without telling me, so as I was being pushed to and fro by his hips (and groaning in a cyclic way – louder, softer, louder, softer), I was confronted with a grinning thin young man who did not hesitate to put his cock in my mouth, or up my nose, or in my eye. But I was nearly catatonic with rectal delight – we had been fucking for a while, which was enough to get me in that mindless state. So the young man had to make do with a blow job from a zombie. (All right, I admit that I couldn't disappoint him either, and I was gratified to hear the second man say to the older man, "This guy is really good." The young man came quickly and walked back to see what the older man was doing. I felt both of their hands on my ass. After the older man came, we lay on the bed and the older man sucked me off, as he always did. The young man left in the middle of that.) I was in a state of anxiety about my health after that and I wanted to see Dr. H. again. I saw him, of course, but I was in a very somber, penitent mood. The good doctor said, "How's your prostate?" I said, "I think it's okay. I'm more worried about my…." "Yes, yes. The results from the blood we've taken today will be back on Thursday. Shall we check your prostate?" "All right." "Yes, let's do that." We left the office with his desk and entered the other office in which exams were done. He hummed a tune from a Fred Astaire picture (about love), and I felt very sedate, calm. His receptionist, however, followed behind us and asked a number of questions of the doctor, none of which I remember. Dr. H. was very irritable and more or less told her not to bother him with such trivialities. I felt then that he was as eager as I was to begin the ritual – and I also thought that his wife knew what we were up to. She hesitated and tried to find another thing to say, but she turned on her heel. She had never done that before. Through the venetian blinds I could see the brightly lighted city as a greased glove pressed into my anus, his other hand steadied my body, and he asked me to "bear down." Insertion was really no problem, and I'm sure from that alone he knew that I was gay. His fingers massaged my prostate and he said explosively, "Your prostate is in the best shape yet!" I was surprised and pleased. My usual erection returned, and I smiled as he felt around some more. I bravely squeezed my erection as the minutes passed.