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He Came To Me

We’re in a small town. The college is tiny – only 2,000 students. There’s no money to pay real coaches, so I’m happy to volunteer as the baseball coach. I’m a retired trauma surgeon.

He came to me not only because I’m his coach, but also because he knew I was a doctor, and he was scared. Scared practically out of his mind. He asked me to close the door and then sat reluctantly in front of my desk.

After hinting around for a while that he had something to ask, he could see I was losing patience. Finally he blurted it out:

“I have a bump in my balls – I mean testicles.”

I felt a need to immediately reassure him. “Lots of guys do. Very few lumps turn out to be anything. Still, you should tell your parents and see a doctor.”

“No!” he practically screamed. “I can’t tell my parents.”

I felt like asking ‘why’ but I knew. I was the same way at his age. You just didn’t share anything, I mean anything at all, with your parents about your sex life, your genitals, or anything of the sort. It would be way too embarrassing.

I’m glad times are changing. The word ‘masturbation’ was never spoken in families in my time. Now, parents routinely let their kids know that jerking off is not only OK, it’s expected. But, I’m getting off-track.

So, I recommended that he take the matter discretely to a physician.

“Well, here I am.”

“I’m not a practicing physician. I’m retired.”

His face scrunched up like he was going to cry. I was removing his last viable option. I guess he trusted me more with this matter than anyone else in the world. I could understand. I liked the boys on the team and they liked me. Perhaps I act young for my age. Some might even say ridiculous, but it bonds me with the younger crowd.

Oh, I can be serious when needed. I was glad to be done with my long career in emergency rooms. Now that’s always serious! I had seen way too much tragedy. I was a bit concerned that this boy might be presenting yet another tragedy. Not immediate like a car crash, but a slow, drawn-out tragedy. A testicular tumor can be a serious threat at his age, even though it’s rare.

“OK,” I relented. “Drop them,” I added as I walked over and locked the door. I also closed the blind over the window.

He stood, pulled down his shorts and underwear, walked around my desk, and approached my chair, practically pushing his crotch in my face. I could smell the boyish sweaty crotch smell, and rather liked it. I always have. Oh, I like the smell of girls too, as my wife of 36 years will attest.



I put on my reading glasses to take a closer look. From a foot away, he looked normal enough. Medium size floppy penis nestled in brownish hair, with a loose scrotum hanging below. I noticed he was circumcised, less common in boys his age than guys my age. I’m personally glad that silly custom is coming to an end. I believe it unnecessarily traumatizes babies and it could be in a way that affects them for life. One might look at a bitter, cynical man, and wonder if it started with an unexpected attack – circumcision – as a youngster. Psychologists now know that even the very youngest children, with their imperfect logic, come to conclusions that will stick in the subconscious mind forever. That’s why pedophilia and molestation are so bad. The seemingly simple acts can affect children in surprisingly powerful and unfortunate ways all through their adult lives. Like a woman who simply cannot undress in front of her husband with the lights on. Or a person who is addicted to non-stop varying sexual partners.

Perhaps because I’m a doctor, I have no problem at all touching another person’s genitals, although I’ve always been careful to warn and explain my purposes to people, especially women.

Yes, during exams, a few men have had erections, and I’ve always assured them that it’s normal and OK. The fact is, I has always mildly excited me when my exams have caused erections. At the same time, it has been unfortunately rare. I didn’t often perform any sort of normal exams. Instead, I was generally involved with people who had been in accidents, and there was no time for leisurely exams.

Anyway, I’m digressing again. I reached out and started feeling this boy’s balls. The proper way it’s done is you use the thumb and first two fingers of each hand, one testicle in each hand. You squeeze lightly, and work all the way around both testicles, being careful not to apply too much pressure where the spermatic cords attach. You don’t want to cause any pain. After working around both testicles, you feel around the epididimis and spermatic cords, the tubing that connects to the testicles. That’s where I found his lump. It was a cyst. An ordinary cyst. Totally harmless. Now, if I was still practicing, I’d tell him to get an ultrasound. That would be primarily to protect me from a possible lawsuit. No one could say I wasn’t thorough. But the fact is, I knew damn well it was a cyst, and there was no reason to bother this kid with making an appointment, having to disrobe in front of another doctor and nurse, and all that.

My mind wanders. Maybe that’s a problem at my age. No, I’ve always been a daydreamer. It’s just that I have more time to stop and smell the flowers now that I’m retired. Or in this case, smell this boy’s lovely sweaty crotch aroma. So, as I was musing, I told him that he was free and clear of any need for concern. The bump would always be there, it wouldn’t grow, and would never cause problems. I didn’t let go of his balls, however. For some reason, I was absentmindedly continuing to palpate them. For those of you who don’t know, ‘palpate’ is the medical term for ‘fondle.’

I must have hung on for a good minute after telling the boy that he was OK. I don’t know what he must have thought about my continued fondling. Perhaps he thought I was still examining. One thing for sure, however. He was enjoying it. He penis was starting to fluff up.

I hadn’t expected that. When I noticed, I almost let go of his balls in a sort of fright. This was totally wrong. I was his coach, and he was a youngster. But somehow, I didn’t. If this kid freaked out, told people I was molesting him or something, and all hell broke loose, what’s the worst that could happen? I’d get fired as a volunteer coach? I’d be exposed as a bisexual? Hell, lots of people knew that already. At my age, I’ve finally learned not to be so protective of what people think of me. It’s very freeing to just go ahead and be who you are. But again I digress.

The boy broke my reverie by saying, “Um, sorry.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist, or even a trauma surgeon, to know what he was talking about. He had continued to become erect. It was now obvious, sticking out almost parallel to the floor.

“Oh, no problem Jason. It happens all the time.”

Then, the wickedest idea came to me. The kid wouldn’t know the difference. After all, what did he know about medical procedures? “Jason, it might be best if you ejaculate just to make sure everything is OK. Would you mind?”

“Really Coach?”

“Yes, I’m sure that all you have is a cyst, but it’s always a good idea to check the rest of a person’s sexual function during an exam.”

I didn’t bother to mention that this situation was about as far from a proper medical exam as one could get. Besides, unless I missed my guess, this kid was fully on board with the situation at hand.

I was right. He started to wank right there, standing in front of me. He was kind of shy and slow about it, however.

“Here, why don’t you get more comfortable,” I offered clearing some baseball mitts off the massage table against the far wall of the office. I hadn’t used that table for anything other than setting books and things on in the three years I had been at the college.

He obligingly laid down on the table, pulling his shorts entirely off in the process. His young penis was sticking straight up, they way they do on young people, not flopped against his stomach the way mine does. He started stroking in earnest.

Five minutes later, he was still stroking, but looking at me apologetically because he hadn’t ejaculated yet.

“Here, perhaps if I help…”

And without waiting for permission, I just pushed his hand away, and took over the job for him. Knowing a thing or two about sexual matters, I knew exactly what to do. First, I ever so lightly touched his frenulum, the little fold of skin under the glans, the head of the penis. My feather-like touch caused his dick to jump about an inch. I repeated the process several times. Only when he was as erect as he had probably ever been in his entire short life, did I wrap my full, warm hand around his erection and start moving up and down. I was almost immediately rewarded with a warm, pulsing flow of semen around my fist.

“Yes, Jason, it looks like you’re in perfect health.”

He smiled, relieved, satisfied, and yet also probably a bit confused. Well, there was nothing I could do about that. Or was there?

“Um Coach?”

“Yes, Jason?”

“What about my cum… I mean my ‘ejac – u…’

“Ejaculation. By the way, you can say ‘cum.’ We’re both men here,” and I laughed to put him at ease.

“Right. What about that? I mean, do I get enough?”

“You mean, is there supposed to be more?”

“Yeah, I know I’m still young and all, but aren’t I supposed to squirt more?”

“Not necessarily. Even guys my age don’t squirt more cum than that. Sometimes even less.”

“Really?”

“True enough. If it wasn’t a crazy idea, I’d demonstrate. Seeing someone ejaculate always makes me horny too.”

“Really Coach?”

That was followed by a moment of silence from both of us.

“Coach?”

“Yes, Jason?”

“Would you say you’re typical in that department?”

I knew what he meant. “Yes, probably so.”

“Um, would you mind demonstrating? I’d really like to see if that’s OK?”

My afternoon was going unbelievably well.

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