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Odd Sports Physical

I went to my mom’s friend for my college entry physical. Perhaps I should have known better. She’s a nurse practitioner. Cheryl is her name. She’s a bit on the heavy side, has graying hair, and most of the time wears a no-nonsense expression.

She did the physical at her house, which I suppose is a bit weird, but at the time, I thought it would be better than waiting around in a doctor’s office. They always run late, and that bothers the heck out of me.

I got there and she instructed me to strip down to my underpants. Cheryl did all the usual stuff: blood sample, listen to heart and lungs, weigh on the scale. All the while, she was asking me questions, like why I joined the baseball team when I’m so good at football. (I didn’t get a football scholarship, but did get a partial baseball scholarship.) I thought this ongoing questioning was unusual from her. All the time she had known my mom, she barely paid any attention to me at all, and I came to think of her as a mostly non-talkative person.

My mind turned away from Cheryl and what she was doing. I was on the verge of buying an old Harley, and was really excited about that motorcycle. It was all I ever thought about lately.

She asked me to momentarily remove my underpants. That brought me crashing out of my daydreaming. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I asked “Why?” I mean all the medical exams I’ve ever had, either I would leave my underwear on, or at most, they’d swoop down the front for a moment for nothing other than the briefest of a glance at my balls or whatever.

“Because a young man needs to be checked for everything, testicular cancer, included.”

“Oh.” I felt really weird about letting Cheryl see my dick. My ass too, for that matter. But what could I do? This was a medical exam after all. No big deal, right?

So, I stepped out of my briefs. There I was stark naked in front of my mom’s friend. Now, nudity has always had an effect on me. Thank God that the showers in high school were all in separate stalls, because I’d often get at least partial wood in there. The other guys never knew. And of course I didn’t know what was happening with them in their showers. I kind of wondered. Anyway, the thing was I felt like my penis might rise up in front of Cheryl, and that would be weird, and embarrassing to the max.

First she did the turn my head and cough thing. I felt a stronger possibility of erection. In fact, I was becoming very afraid my penis was starting to puff up a bit.

“No hernia,” she quietly half-muttered. It’s not like I was relieved, because I was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with me, anyway.

She had me lay on her ‘examination table.’ It looked like a massage table to me, but whatever. She reached out, and started scrunching around on my sack.

To my horror, that fucked me up entirely. My dick rose of its own accord, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“Um, I’m sorry…” I started to blurt.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just proves you’re a healthy boy.”

She continued to feel my balls for quite a while. Under other circumstances, it would have been wonderful. I’d like to have a girl, I mean, someone my age, do that. My mind drifted to Marie, a beautiful Mexican chick at school. She was a girl I always wanted to talk to, but never could. Oh well, now that high school was over, I’d probably never get the chance for the rest of my life. Somehow in my mind, I started imagining it was Marie squeezing my balls back and forth like that.

Suddenly my mind shot back to reality. What the fuck was happening? I was rock hard as Cheryl was continuing to massage my balls. And, why was she taking so long? I was starting to feel that pre-orgasmic feeling one gets. Oh no! But just before it was too late, she let go of my balls.

Whew, that was a close one! I realized this was as close as I had ever come to ejaculating, without actually ejaculating. I was sure I’d be rubbing one out later to finish the job.

She turned away to a little table, grabbed something, then returned. “The schools are insisting that we test for STDs these days. This may sting a bit.”

I didn’t really grasp what she was saying. I was vaguely thinking she was going to jab my arm for more blood or something.

Suddenly, I felt her grab my still rock-hard penis in her hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around it. There was that getting-ready-to-orgasm feeling again. It came on me suddenly. And then, as I looked to see what she was doing, she jabbed a Q-tip about an inch in my peehole. That did sting! She could have warned me. But then again, I guess she did.

Now, it would have been nice if she pulled it out right away. But no, she kind of pushed it in a bit more, and twirled it around. It stung big-time! Finally, she pulled it out, and if you can imagine it, that stung even worse.

“Owww, Holy fu…”

But then it was over. The pain ended as quickly as it had begun.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. It had to be done. Putting the Q-tip into some sort of little container, she immediately turned back to me and grabbed my penis again.

‘Now what?’ I was thinking. What torturous thing did she have in mind next? But that’s not what happened at all.

Cheryl apologized for that pain, and said, “This might help.”

She held my penis, looking at it intensely, and kind of shifting it to one side then the other. It was still as hard as a hammer. It felt nice for her to hold it that way. Then, she slid my foreskin all the way back. It was intense. Almost bordering on a different kind of pain. She held it that way for a good few seconds. Then she pushed it back over the head of my penis. Then she pulled it back again.

“Checking for proper functionality.” she said, in that same low, almost to herself voice.

She did that ever so slowly about five more times. That was it. I couldn’t hold back any more. I tried really, really hard, tightening up every muscle I had, but it was hopeless. Cum started shooting out of me, all over her hand and my stomach.

“Yes, all good!” she said, this time brightly, and with a smile on her face.

“You appear to be in perfect health young man.” With that, she left the room, so I could wipe up the mess, and put my clothes back on.

As I walked into her living room, I thanked her for the physical while feeling very strangely about what had just happened.

Cheryl asked my not to tell the details of what just happened to my mother. I assumed she felt guilty about going way beyond the rules for this sort of thing. I assured her I wouldn’t tell. I mean, I’ve never discussed anything sexual with my mom. There’s no way I could bring something like this up.

The next day, my mom and I were sitting around the dining room table, just talking about this and that, when she said, “Cheryl says you’re really healthy.”

I didn’t catch her meaning.

“I mean Cheryl says she ejaculated you during your exam.”

I must have turned ten shades of red.

Create Your Own Story

Hi Folks! Jeremy and I would love to hear your stories. Please write a story in the comment area below, or you can send direct to me using jenelle@sex270.com.

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The length can be anything from a sentence to a complete ebook.

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Mrs. Sanderson’s Prostate Massages

Mrs. Sanderson's Prostate Massages

I’m assuming this story, told to me by a client is true. Knowing the guy, I suspect it is. Here you go:

So, as you know, I was diagnosed with benign prostate enlargement. It’s typical for a man of my advancing age, and harmless enough, as long as one takes care of it. Let it go, and you get to where you can’t pee with a forceful stream like you should. I was supposed to get some physical exercise a few times a day for fifteen minutes each time, avoid sitting for long periods, eat healthy, and one other thing.

The doctor asked whether I would like prostate massage, then explained what it is. I’m fortunate to have a gold insurance plan, which covers such things with only a tiny co-pay. In this case, $10.

So here’s the deal. The doctor’s office set me up with weekly appointments with a Mrs. Sanderson. She’s a massage therapist. She is trained in several modalities and seems very professional, if perhaps a bit on the spiritual side. Like, she’s into astrology, and uses Indian terms, such as ‘lingam’ to mean ‘penis.’

Anyway, I went to her. She draped me except for the necessary portions of my lower body. Then she placed a gloved finger in my rectum, and pressed all around for quite a while. What an interesting feeling! You feel sort of like you’re going to pee, but you don’t and it’s actually much nicer. I’d love to get this treatment even if I didn’t have BPE.

So, the first time was great. I felt like I was starting to get an erection, but laying face down on the table, it didn’t much matter. I figured she couldn’t see anything.

The next time, she asked whether I felt a need for being draped.

I boldly said “No,” and for some reason, being entirely naked in front of this woman felt very erotic. It didn’t make any sense. She’s older than I am, gray haired, and quite overweight. But friendly. I did get an erection, and there’s little doubt she saw it. You’d think I’d be embarrassed about it, but I quickly told myself it must happen with many of her clients, and so my embarrassment turned to a weird sort of pride. She said nothing about it, and neither did I. It was a bit strange, however, to have an erection, to be sexually aroused, and not have an orgasm. I wanked big-time when I got home.

Oddly, I did ejaculate a bit during Mrs. Sanderson’s session. Well, not really. The prostate massage causes a bit of semen to work it’s way down the urethra and show up at the tip of the penis.

The next appointment was the same. Erection with no one reacting to it.

The fourth appointment, Mrs. Sanderson asked whether I’d feel more comfortable with a release.

I had to think about it for approximately 1/2 second. “Yes, of course!”

After the finger in the butt thing, she removed her glove, put on some massage oil, and gave me an expert handjob. I mean really expert. Somehow, she was able to read my physiology, and know when I was close to squirting. She kept me on the brink of ejaculating for two or three whole minutes. Finally, I squirted quite a bit of cum all over her hand and my belly. It resulted in a big smile from her, and from me.

I have been going to this woman for over a year now, and of all damn things, my prostate has returned to nearly normal size. The doctor is amazed. He says none of his other patients have made as much progress. I attribute it to good diet, the exercising several times a day as he recommended, and of course Mrs. Sanderson’s treatments. Her handjobs have been so good that sometimes she can keep me in actual orgasm, contractions and everything, without squirting any cum for minutes at a time. Finally, she purposely takes me beyond orgasm into ejaculation. Amazing!

My wife knows all about it, and is surprisingly fine about it. I’d think she’d be all crazy, or jealous, or at least I thought she’d say “You’ve gone too far this time.”

But no, she claims to be relieved because I’m not so ‘demanding’ of sex with her. I don’t actually demand it, but that’s the way she feels about it. Since menopause, many years ago, now, she has been much less interested in sex than I. It used to be the other way around. Oh well, Mrs. Sanderson fills the gap nicely.

Oddly, those handjobs of her’s are better than actual sex. Go figure!

Mother Dermatologist

I came home for Christmas vacation from my first year of college with a rash in my buttcrack. It wasn’t horrible, but it had me itching. My mom noticed. She happens to be a dermatologist, so how perfect is that? Except, I was rather timid about telling her about it, because, well, it was in such a personal place. But what could I do except admit the truth? Plus, it did have to be treated.

So, in her bedroom, I took off my pants and showed her. I was very embarrassed about her seeing my penis and all that. The last time she saw me naked was so far back I don’t remember. Now, I was a hairy monster, or so I imagined myself in the circumstance.

She had me lay face down on the bed and she spread my ass cheeks apart with her hand. My, that felt nice! I immediately realized I shouldn’t feel that way about it. It was just my mom looking at a rash, after all. She let go, and went into the kitchen where she came out with a little bottle of something. She then spread my ass cheeks again, and put some kind of oily substance on the rash. It felt cool, almost cold. She spread it around pretty good. In the process, her fingertips brushed directly over my asshole a couple of times. I don’t know what she was thinking. Probably nothing – just another patient with a dermatological situation, except this was her son, no big deal.

But what was I thinking? I don’t really know. Maybe it was just the gentle, greasy touch in such an intimate place, but I immediately threw an erection. I hoped she didn’t notice with me laying face down on the bed. I had to readjust as my body was compressing the erection, and that didn’t feel so good. Again, I hoped she didn’t notice my movement, or at least I hoped she didn’t know why I wiggled like that.

“Oh, my boy’s getting a boner!” she sang out, in a teasing voice.

I guess she noticed.

“Lemme see.”

“Hell no, Mom.”

“Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen your willie before.”

“But not erect!” I couldn’t even believe I had said that word, ‘erect’ to my mother.

“I’ll bet it’s cute.”

“Geez Mom, just think of me as a patient.”

“They get erections sometimes.”


“Lemme see.”

I don’t disobey my mother. So, even though I’m sure I was red in the cheeks, and felt like I’d rather die, I flipped over on the bed, letting her see my rock-hard erection.

“Why, that’s beautiful. Maybe even better than your father’s.”

She actually reached out and touched it! And, OK, I’ll admit it, that felt terribly good! She then manipulated my scrotum, I guess looking for more of the rash. She then pulled my foreskin down for a moment with her fingertips, then flipped it back up over my bulging cockhead. I started to feel an inevitable orgasm building up. I was thinking that cumming with my mother manipulating my penis just couldn’t happen. I’d certainly be guilty of something. The exact details, I couldn’t describe at the time, but I knew I absolutely couldn’t cum.

I needn’t have worried. A few seconds later, she said, “OK, put your pants back on Buster.”

Nothing more ever happened, and neither of us ever mentioned that evening. But I have to tell you I have masturbated to orgasm many times recalling that evening in my mind.

Your Heart and Lungs Are Fine

Erotic Story: Your Heart And Lungs Are Fine

“Your heart and lungs are fine. You can be proud of your health. Many young men entering college already have issues like high blood pressure. It’s about diet. I could just strangle people who promote sugary foods.”

“Yeah, my parents have been pretty good about diet and stuff.”

“I see you have a bit of a bruise on your upper arm.”

“Yeah, I got that in school right before graduation. Messing around.”

“You’re not being bullied by anyone, are you?”

“Oh, no, Nothing like that. We were just playing…”

“You’d tell your parents, or me, or an adult if there was a problem with anyone, right?”


“How’s your home life? Does anything cause you stress?”

“Not really.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Now, would you please remove your underpants and stand right here beside the table?”


“While I press my fingers here, please turn your head and cough.”

“Again, please.”

“Now turn your head the other way and cough again.”

“Ok, hop back on the table and lay down.”

“I’m just going to check for lumps. It’s very rare, but sometimes boys get those on their testicles.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed. Many boys become erect during this procedure.”

“Are you intimate with anyone?”


“I mean, are you having sex with any girls, or boys?”


“OK, because you know about STDs, right?”

“Of course, they teach it in school.”

“I know, but I’m required to ask. How about when you masturbate? Is everything working oK?’

“Um, what makes you think I masturbate?”

“All boys do. I caught my own son masturbating a half-dozen times. Finally he just started doing it openly in front of us, even his sister.”

“What about her?”

“Oh, yes, she masturbated too. Still does. It’s perfectly natural. That’s another thing I could strangle people for. They make it a big hush-hush deal. Do you know 30 or 40 years ago, some parents tied their babies’ arms in cardboard tubes if the kids were found to be innocently touching themselves? There was a Dr. Kellogg, the same guy who invented corn flakes. Well, anyway…”

“What about this Dr. Kellogg?”

“Oh, you can look him up. He used to medically torture boys who masturbated. Sorry, I’m getting way off-topic. So, you’re OK when you masturbate?”

“Yeah… Well…”

“Go ahead, if anything concerns you, you can tell me. I am your doctor after all.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”



“Go on, your medical history is entirely safe with me.”

“I don’t think I produce enough sperm.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, not very much comes out.”

“How much does come out?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Some. OK, so it’s not as much as I’ve seen in porn.”

“It’s alright that you’ve seen porn. I suppose that we should check that you’re OK.”

“Um, no, it’s not necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, actually, I am a bit worried about it.”

“We don’t want you going around worried. Worry causes stress and stress is unhealthy. Let’s take a look.”

“Miss Flanders.” [yelled loudly] “Come in here please. We need a chaperone.”

“I wouldn’t want to be accused of doing anything incorrect.”

“Isn’t she just the receptionist? Not a nurse?”

“Yes, but as a witness, she’s fine.”

“Um, OK, but it makes me feel funny.”

“I understand. – Nancy, pull up a stool and just sit so you can watch and verify that I’m acting professionally.”

“OK Dr. Evans.”

“I see you’re still erect. That’s a good sign for a boy your age. Now, please produce some sperm for us.”

“Nancy, he expressed concern that his volume of semen may be low.”

“That’s it. Just pretend you’re at home, or wherever you masturbate. You can pretend Miss Flanders and I are not here.”

“Take your time. You’re the last patient of the day.”

“That’s it. Very good!”

“Ok, young man. You’re perfectly healthy. That is a normal volume of ejaculate.”

“You can put your clothes on, and thank you very much for being a great patient.”

36-Inch Flexible Dildo

36-inch dildo pressed into friend's anus

I have a friend that I play with from time to time. We usually just jerk each other off, but he does like anal play – a lot. I on the other hand, am not much into anal at all. Or, I should say I don’t like things stuck in me. But I do enjoy sticking things in my wife, and in my occasional male friends.

Usually, he likes ordinary dildos and things a few inches long. We have also experimented with fisting, and on a couple of occasions, I have gotten my whole hand into his rectum. He wants me to go farther, but I find he has a restriction about ten inches (25cm) in that I cannot get past.

One day, he showed me his new 36-inch (90cm) flexible rubber dildo. To give you some perspective, a typical man’s pants are only 31 inches in length.

He wanted me to put that in him. I was skeptical, and worried about physical injury. Still, he wanted it.

Se I lubed him and his dildo and went to work. He laid on his back with his knees up, and I started pushing it in. At about a third of the way, it was going nicely. At two-thirds, he had me stop a couple of times. He said it didn’t hurt, but he had to get used to the feeling. I resumed. It seemed stuck. I pulled back a little bit, then pushed forward again. It continued to enter him. There’s no doubt it was well into his transverse colon.

We kept playing, and finally, I was holding the last two inches (5cm). All the rest was in his large intestine.

He couldn’t see what I was doing, so he asked, and I told him how far it was in. That excited him. His penis, which had been semi-hard the whole time became like a flagpole. He wanted me to push in further. All the way in. I thought that was irresponsible. Like, what if he couldn’t push it back out? Something short in the rectum can be pushed out, but that long? I had my doubts. But I was willing to go another inch. I believe the far end was right up against his appendix, because that last inch was impossible.

He said he wasn’t feeling any pain, but his physiology told me otherwise. He was kind of wincing. So, ever so slowly, I pulled the whole thing out. As I was doing so, he rubbed his own penis to a fantastic orgasm.

In fairness to you, dear reader, I should point out that a year later this fellow was hospitalized for a serious intestinal problem having to do with an overzealous enema. So, it turns out there are limits to sexual play that should be regarded. Over the years, I have found many ways to have fantastic orgasms without taking any health risks.

Taking Care of My Sister

When my sister Melanie was 15, and I was 13, something started to happen to her. She had been the gregarious one. The life of the party. With her thin but curvy figure, luxurious dark hair, olive skin, and beautiful smile, she delighted everyone she came in contact with. One day, she said her legs felt a bit ‘weird.’ Within a few days, she started having trouble walking. She said it was like trying to slog through a swimming pool. My parents took her to a doctor, who had her check into the hospital for more tests. We were all very scared.

It turned out quite badly. She was going to die young, and it sent the whole family into a total funk for several weeks. It was Mel who brought us out of the darkness. She started living life again, even as she was dying. She smiled everyday, told jokes, and was if anything, even more outgoing than before. I’ve since learned that there’s something about facing one’s own mortality that makes one brave, bold, and dead honest – no pun intended.

She continued to decline. By the time she was 17, she had lost most of the use of her hands, and pretty much lived in her electric wheelchair. She needed around-the-clock attendance. At night, it was my parents. While I was in school, we had a hired helper for her. After school, between 3:30 and 6:30, it was my turn. There’s something about assisting your own sister in the bathroom that brings siblings close. Even though her care took me away from friends, basketball and all that, I loved her, and decided to make what was left of her life as perfect as possible.

In the afternoons, we watched some TV, or did some computer things, but not that much really. We mostly talked. We talked about everything. I really enjoyed her bold honesty, and she often made me laugh with her oddball light cynicism.

When she needed to pee, I’d get her on the toilet, and it would be I who would wipe her vagina. Taking showers got easier when we figured out that I’d get as naked as her, essentially spill her out of her chair and into the tub, and shower with her. I didn’t mind. In fact, I have to admit that when I first had to do that chore, I got secret chills that hardened my prick. She was the first girl who I’d ever seen without clothes. At first, I made it a point to twist away from her so that in case she looked back in my direction, she wouldn’t see my erection. I mean, how would I explain it? She was my sister after all, and disabled at that.

After a while, it just became a natural phenomen. I mean, I’d get hard almost every time I washed her, and she knew it, and neither of us cared or paid any attention to it.

One day, while feeding her at the dinner table, she asked how often I masturbate. We were so close that such a personal question seemed OK. With only the slightest embarrassment, I admitted that it was at least once a day, often shortly after our showers.

She then told me that she used to rub herself everyday too, but now she can’t. It took me less than a split-second to figure out where this conversation was going! Not wanting to embarrass her by making her ask, I simply said, “Hey Mel, I’d love to help you with that!” She breathed such a sigh of relief I almost broke down in tears.

Moments later, we were in the shower. This time, I didn’t simply swipe the washcloth between her legs a couple of times as I had done in the past. This time, I left the cloth on the edge of the tub, and washed her slowly, carefully, with my fingertips. With her instruction, I found her clit, and learned how to work it. She came right away, and laid, curled up like a kitten, and kind of shivering in the warm water in the tub for a good few minutes. Meanwhile, I sat on the edge of the tub, rubbed my hard penis furiously, and came right in front of her, almost on top of her, dripping my jizz into the bath water.

That was the first time. We must have done it a hundred more times, more often in her bed, rather than in the shower.

She showed me how to put a finger in her ass, and curl two fingers in her vagina against the inside front of her body, giving her some sort of internal orgasms. And I do mean that in the pleural. She was capable of 15 minutes of almost non-stop orgasms. I think it became her favorite joy in life, these masturbatory sessions with her brother.

I never asked her to repay me, but on four or five occasions, she took it upon herself to instruct me to position myself in front of her – since she could no longer move very well – and she’d give me wonderful blowjobs, which she seemed to enjoy as much as I did.

Over the next two years, she had seemed to stabilize, not getting much worse. One day, her doctor tried a new medicine that was supposed to help. But that afternoon, an hour after taking the new pills, something went terribly wrong. She started coughing, and having trouble breathing. An ambulance came. She died that night in the hospital of a heart attack. Imagine, a heart attack at age 20! They say it was the new drug, but I think it was better that she went suddenly and quickly, rather than the long continuing decline that might have been.

Gary’s Penis Problem

Gary's father helps with his penis problem, phimosis.

The conversation went like this:

“Dad, can I tell you something private?”

“Sure son.”

“Well, when my girlfriend, Cindy…”

“Yes, lovely girl. I met her, remember?”

“Well, when we had sex for the first time…”

“Gary, you’re 18 now. I can’t tell you want to do. Who to have sex with and when. I can only advise. You know about pregnancy and STDs of course, right?”

“No Dad! Listen. It’s not that.”


“So when we, um… did it, it hurt a little bit. We tried anal, it was so painful I couldn’t even get in.”

“I’m a little surprised you’d try anal so soon. But anyway, it’s natural that you’d be hurting her. You have to be very slow and gentle…”

“NO DAD! It didn’t hurt her. It hurt me.”


“My foreskin, it was all kind of ouchy, like when I try to pull it back.”

“OK, lemme see.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Gary, I changed your diapers, remember? I’ve seen your wiener since you were a baby. You even had little erections. It was so cute…”

“Geez, Dad! But you haven’t seen me since I was like four years old.”


“So, it’s embarrassing.”

“Ah, I understand. Now shut up and let me take a look.”

Reluctantly, I lowered my shorts. My father not only took a look, he just reached out and grabbed my penis, holding it this way and that. Then, to my almost horror, he mumbled something about checking my balls for lumps, and proceeded to feel up my testicles in my scrotum. I swear, I started to chub up! Then, he pulled my foreskin back.


He immediately let go. “Gary, I need to see your cock erect.”

It was shocking to hear my own father say ‘cock.’

“Um, I don’t think so, Dad.”

“OK, I understand. Take it up with your mother then.”

I hesitated before answering, “No, that would be worse.”

So, right there in front of my father, I started wanking my already semi-hard penis. It stayed semi-hard. The situation was just too weird.

“Here, let me,” and without waiting for my response, he pushed my hand out of the way, and started jerking me off, his own son!

I became hard right away. I wouldn’t have expected that.

This time, more gingerly, he pulled my foreskin back a little bit, then let go of my penis, announcing, “Gary, I’m so sorry. You have the same condition as me. You inherited it. It’s called ‘phimosis.’ It’s an overly tight foreskin.”

I must have looked all worried. What he said next just made matters worse. Way worse. He scared me to such a degree my heart jumped into my throat, beating 100 miles an hour.

“Son, I had the same thing. I hadn’t met your mother yet. Hadn’t had sex with anyone, but I decided to have a circumcision when I was 19. Just one year older than you are now. I was in the air force then, and a doctor told me I should have it done.

In retrospect, it was one of the worst decisions of my life. You see, it hurt like hell for two weeks afterward, and for well over a year, my cock felt funny. Like just brushing against my underwear was an unbearable tickle. One’s glans which has always been covered has to get used to touching things. To top it off, all I wanted to do back then was fly, and they wouldn’t let me go near an airplane for two months. My buddies in the academy were having all kinds of great adventures, and I was playing solitaire in the barracks. Then too, they knew what happened to me, and just couldn’t keep themselves from joking around. It hurt to move, but a couple of punches in their faces settled things down.”

My emotions were sinking fast. From the sound of it, circumcision was the last thing I would have wanted.

My father, evidently seeing the look on my face, quickly added, “What I should have done was stretching exercises. You can do that instead. I’m rather certain surgery will not be necessary.”

“OK, so how do I do that?”

“From what I’ve read – and what I wish I had read before the surgery – it’s simple. You get erect, then you pull the skin back to the point of pain, hold it that way for several seconds, let go, and do that over and over again. You can do it every time you masturbate.”


“What? Are you going to tell me you don’t jerk off?”

“…Um, no, I, um, just don’t like talking about it.”

“OK, I understand. By the way, you can put your pants back on.”

“Oh, right.”

A week later, my dad asked how things were going, with a glance toward my crotch, indicating he was talking about the whole penis thing.

“Oh, I kind of forgot about it.”

“Gary, like I’ve told you with many other projects you’ve undertaken, it won’t get done unless you start.”

“I know.”

“What about you and, what’s-her-name, um, Cindy?”

“Oh, you know.”


“She’s been giving me handjobs.”

“And what have you been doing for her?”

“Well, nothing, really.”

“And she’s satisfied with that? And, you’re satisfied with handjobs?”

“Um, well, no.”


“I can’t.”


“It’s just too weird.”

“Well, if you think that’s weird, if you won’t do them, we’ll have your mother do them for you.”

“Oh no!”


“OK, O-fucking-K, I’ll start.”

“Language, Gary!”

Another week passed, and somehow, I had been involved in baseball, school and all, and I hadn’t started. Dad was exasperated. During dinner, right there in front of my two sisters, he explained the whole thing in plain english to my mother, asking her to perform the exercises on me. I could have just died, having everyone hear about my penis situation like that. The girls giggled. My mom, laughing but obviously shocked, absolutely refused.

To shorten an overly long story, it turns out that the duty fell to my dad. Still living at home and all, I couldn’t get out of it.

The first time was, let’s say, interesting. He had me strip naked on my parents’ bed. Perhaps out of solidarity, maybe to make me feel better, he stripped naked too. It was interesting seeing his penis for the first time, at least the first that I could remember. It was all remarkably hairy down there. Other than that, his penis looked quite like mine when soft. I somehow would have expected it to be bigger.

I have to say, I felt totally awkward. I sure as hell didn’t have an erection. My father reached forward with one of his big hands, and started very gently rubbing my scrotum with his fingertip. Or rather, the few curly hairs on my scrotum. It was the lightest touch imaginable, and it made me jump with a sort of chill, or maybe you might call it a ‘thrill.’

He did it again, over and over. Then, he swiped a finger tip up the length of the underside of my penis. Another chill/thrill, this one bigger than the first. He did it a few more times, and sure enough, I was totally erect. I could feel my foreskin stretched tight, which kind of added to the rather nice feeling of being erect. But what was I thinking? This was my father, and a guy, at that! Wasn’t this gay or something? But I decided not to question my father. He’s always been a strong authority figure, so I figured he knows what he’s doing. Like, this was really a treatment, not anything sexual, right?

I knew intellectually, that I had to be erect for this to work, and yet, I was terribly embarrassed to be in that state right in front of my own father.

I’m sorry, this is kind of a rambling story.

[Oh, no, I’m enjoying hearing about it.]

OK, so basically, he pulled my foreskin back, over and over again, like ten times. Then he said, “Finis. Go on, get out of here,” with a smile on his face.

I walked out of the room with my still-hard penis wagging in front of me. As if things weren’t just about as embarrassing as they could get, one of my sisters walked through the hallway at the same time, and saw me walking there with a big ol’ erection. She giggled and ran to her room. I ran to my room too. It was all too much for me to process. I fell in a heap on my bed, curled up in a ball, so I could think. The next thing you know, I was jerking myself to one of the best orgasms of my life!

Every day, my father did the exercises. For the first ten days or so, it was the same each time. Every day, right afterward, I’d wank to a crashing ejaculation in my room. Then one day, I came in my dad’s hands. He was like, “Um, oh… um, well, that really isn’t supposed to happen…” I think he was as embarrassed as I was.

To my relief, he skipped the next day. The day after that, he announced that I should get naked and be in my parent’s bedroom at 6pm, the usual time. My parents have always been jokers even though they are also kind of strict, but this time took the cake.

I walked naked across the hall already erect, hoping my sisters wouldn’t see me, into my parents room. There I was confronted by my mother, who announced she’d be doing my exercises today. She, just like my father, had entirely disrobed in solidarity. Looking at my skinny mother with her big, pendulous boobs, and shaved crotch was a real shock. Shaved crotch! That’s right. I was able to directly see the very slot I came out of. And she saw me, erection and all.

The exercise with my mother was well underway by the time the embarrassment and weirdness started to wear off. She was gentler than Dad, and I had to tell her she could pull harder on my foreskin. As you might have guessed, I did ejaculate all over her hands almost right away. The hard part, no pun intended, is that she wasn’t deterred. Dad knew enough that when a guy cums, his attitude immediately shifts, and he can’t stand having his penis touched any more. Mom just kept going. It was excruciating, not due to the stretching of my foreskin. It was just too ticklish, too intense right after ejaculating. I told her to stop, and tried to push her hands away like three times before she relented. Both of us were laughing all the way.

It took several months before the exercise paid off, but they did. Along the way Cindy helped, and I did the exercises myself when I jerked off. I still have a foreskin, but now it retracts harmlessly over my glans.

I am extremely grateful for the help from my parents.

Curve to the Left

doctor examined erect penis for curve to the left

“Can you get it hard for me?” he asked.

I was not surprised by the question. I knew it was coming, but the whole situation was more than a little embarrassing. I wouldn’t have even been here if my parents hadn’t made me.

I had already removed my pants and underwear and was sitting on the doctor’s exam table. I was thinking the curtains around the cubicle were awfully flimsy. Anyone passing by could probably see me through the gaps.

I knew it had to be erect, so I started masturbating myself. It wasn’t getting hard. I was too nervous. The doctor continued to stare, which was not making it any easier.

I think he knew, so he said, “Hmm. I’ll be back in a minute…” and walked out through the flimsy curtains.

Now, the idea of someone peaking through a crack in the curtains was far worse. What they’d see is a boy sitting here by himself, masturbating. Not good!

And not happening. I couldn’t get my penis erect. After a minute, the doctor stepped back in. Son, if you can’t get it hard, I have a little something called Caverject. I can inject it in your penis, then you’ll get an erection.

An injection? In my penis? Oh, great, just what I needed, to mix more fear into this already awful situation. I was already slightly trembling. And now, the doctor was back next to the table staring at me again.

I started to think about getting an erection from an injection. I imagined a big needle being stuck in my dick, not realizing that Caverject is a little, short needle. I was wondering in what part of my dick it would be stuck into. It was just so weird. And a little sexual, too. Imagine, being forced to have an erection by a chemical! My mind was starting to wander, and lo and behold, my penis was starting to swell up.

The doctor didn’t say a word. Just continued to stare. Finally, my penis was fully erect. He reached in with one hand, grabbing the tip of my penis, holding it this way and that. Then, he started feeling up my balls with the thumbs and fingertips of both of his hands, I guess looking for lumps. It felt rather nice. My penis stayed hard.

“Ok, son, you can put your pants back on. You can tell your parents that there is indeed some curvature to the left, but it’s slight, and absolutely will not require medical attention.”

Whereas I was so embarrassed and scared at the time that I was literally shivering, and it wasn’t cold in the room, every time I think back on it, it makes me so horny I have to jerk off right away.

Great Urological Exam

My wife wasn’t getting pregnant. She had an exam, then some tests in the hospital, and as far as they could tell, it wasn’t her. So, she made me an appointment with a urologist. I don’t even like regular medical exams, so I knew I certainly wouldn’t like this one. But sometimes in life, one has to face the facts. I wasn’t particularly fearful, because it wasn’t like he was going to say I had a deadly disease or anything, but he might have to do painful tests or something. I also did have a concern that I might be sterile, which would shoot the hell out of my plans of teaching my kids baseball, bike riding, or bringing up lovely daughters. I guess I could adopt. But, I’m getting off topic.

So, I go to this guy, and I almost laughed. He was short and overweight, with a friendly Brooklyn accent. If anyone has seen that Netflix series with Alan Arkin and Michael Douglas, The Kominski Method, you’d know why. He wasn’t the spitting image of Danny DeVito, but sort of close. Actually, he was almost normal height. Anyway, after filling out a ridiculously long questionnaire, and a brief interview with the guy, in which he asked some rather personal questions, like how often do Claire and I have sex, how often do I masturbate, how often do I go naked, what kind of underwear do I like, do I have trouble maintaining erections, and so on, it was time to drop my pants.

I should mention that I wasn’t particularly embarrassed to say that my wife and I have sex once or twice a week, but was very set back by having to admit that I masturbate almost every day. Doctor Stevens put me at ease when he mentioned that most married guys jerk off more often than they have sex. I never knew that, and had always felt there was something off about my desire to wank so much. He also mentioned that frequent masturbation has been proven to have health benefits.

He felt my balls with gloved hands, he pulled my foreskin back and looked in my peehole. Oddly, I chubbed up a little bit with this fairly ugly man, ten years older than me, holding my dick. Go figure! Now that was embarrassing. He dropped my dick and wrote something on an iPad. Returning to me, he put something cold and slimy on my asshole, then stuck a chubby finger in me and probed around. It actually felt rather nice, especially when he pressed on my prostate. Not painful. Comforting in a way. He pulled out way too soon, in my opinion. When he was done, my penis was almost fully erect. Then he announced, “Of course we need to examine your semen.”

I had figured on that. I imagined he’d send me off into a bathroom with a little cup or something.

Wrong-O! With a simple muttered, “You don’t mind, right?” he reached back with his blue-gloved hand, and started pulling my foreskin gently up and down. I was like “whaaa?” but didn’t actually say anything. Whatever slight erection I had was now gone.

Dr. Stevens made a joke about needing a bit of high-tech medical equipment, and reached into a box of Kleenex, pulling out a single sheet. He then dangled one corner over my flaccid penis, waving it slightly back and forth, and slowly lowering it until one corner just ever so slightly brushed my frenulum. When it finally touched, it made my penis, which was soft, feel like it jumped an inch. He kept waving the sheet, and occasionally the corner touched the underside of my dick. It felt fucking amazing! No one in my whole life had ever done that, and within a minute, I was fully erect under this guy’s attention. There was nothing I could do about it. I was erect. Very erect! Under the circumstances, I guess it was OK, although it did seem weird.

The doctor then dropped the Kleenex and started giving me what I guess was an ordinary handjob. I say “I guess” because the only one who has ever done that to me was my wife, and she only jerked me half-heartedly before it would turn into a blowjob or ordinary sex. When I think about it, it was totally surreal. This fat old man was jerking me off, and it felt awesome. I was starting to get that orgasmic feeling, and before I knew it, I was blowing cum into a petri dish he was holding in his other hand.

“Good, very good,” he said, then yelled “Bonnie!”

To my horror, his middle-aged, overweight nurse entered the exam room to carry the little covered dish away for lab analysis. I mean, she came right in there, with the doctor holding my still erect cock in one hand, and his little dish in the other. I guess for the two of them, this was totally normal.

All too soon, my pants were back on, and I was sitting at his desk. I couldn’t resist asking whether many patients get that treatment. He told me that sadly, the majority of his patients are in for enlarged prostate, and some are in quite bad shape. But he does also get men in for other things, some diseases he mentioned I hadn’t heard of like Pyronnie’s disease, and something I had heard of, “erectile dysfunction.” He went on to tell me that in some cases, what he called an ‘ejaculatory procedure’ was necessary, which brought a smile to his face.

I asked whether that’s the way it was done in most urologists’ offices. He said he only knew about his office, but didn’t think so. He said he was convinced most urologists are afraid of being sued for impropriety. He also said that with some of his clients, he just knows he should send them into the bathroom by themselves with a little dish, but for almost every guy, his version of the procedure is just fine. “Besides, it takes way less time,” he added.

Time didn’t seem to matter during my appointment, which was evidently the last of his day, because we sat at his desk chatting for quite a while. I felt I wouldn’t be satisfied if I didn’t ask certain questions, even though I knew my probing was a bit invasive. But, I also got the sense he wouldn’t mind.

“Why did you get into urology?”

“Well, I’m not gay. Heaven knows, my wife will tell you that. But, I have always been fascinated by the male reproductive system. Frankly, I do very much enjoy seeing, and I dare say, handling men’s erections. It does sadden me when I have to do invasive surgery. On the other hand, I’ve installed a number of Coloplasts – penile prosthesis for erectile dysfunction, and the men seem to really enjoy having those things. They tell me that being able to completely control their erections, even leaving them hard for extended periods of time, really excites them. I’ve also done a number of cosmetic procedures. You wouldn’t believe how many guys have enlarged their peeholes or had piercings that they want to restore to normal. There are also a number of guys, a surprisingly large number, who develop cysts in their epididymis, the connection tissue around the testicles. They’re always harmless, but the guys come to me all scared to death, and leave greatly relieved. Some of the young men do have testicular cancer, and that’s unfortunate, but even most of them turn out OK, although some end up with only a single testicle.

“Do you ever get gay men, or men who overly enjoy your attention?” I asked.

“Not as often or as overt as you might imagine, but every now and then I’ll get a major exhibitionist. Now, I do get a lot of men, especially the younger ones, who will have erections the minute their underwear comes off. I must say I enjoy seeing that. They’re typically quite embarrassed, and I try to put them at ease, saying ‘all the guys get hard,’ even though in reality, it’s less than 10 percent, unless they get the treatment you got.” He laughed.

We talked a bit more. He told me that some men spontaneously go into full orgasm during DRE, Digital Rectal Exam, where he sticks a finger in their ass. At that point, Bonnie came in saying she wanted him to leave so she could lock up.

And that was that. Oh, a week later he called and said all tests were negative, but my sperm count was down. He told me the reason was that my balls were running too hot. He told me I had to spend as much time as possible naked at home, avoid long hot showers, and wear boxers instead of briefs. With that, my scrotum would run a couple degrees cooler than body temperature, as it was designed to do. Sure enough, four months later Claire was pregnant.

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