Helping Out a Friend

I was talking to a friend about his impending 40th birthday and some of the complications that surround that milestone of age. Being that I have already surpassed such an achievement, I felt that it was easy for me to give him advice and to guide him into the life that awaits. It was at this time that the true meaning of this conversation hit me and that I had to probe into what he was feeling and how he would take the insertion of his 40th birthday into his life. So, I was overjoyed to enlighten him with some of the wisdom I have gained throughout my life.

When the topic came up, the thought of it penetrated my soul. The hard driving question infiltrated my thought process as I recounted a memory that will be forever kept in the deepest darkest crevasses of my mind. This was a breach of epic proportion but I was there for him and thus…my story as I told him.

It was January, eight plus years ago, when it started. I was 33, not 40, but it doesn’t really matter how old I was. It was a frigid morning and the frost was on the inside of the windows in my bedroom. As I pulled myself out of bed I leaned over and gave my wife a kiss, not really wanting to get out of bed but only to drift back to sleep with her warm body next to mine. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and headed to the toilet as I do every morning muttering out-loud about how cold the floor felt that day. I reached down between my legs and pulled out my manhood and prepared to let a night full of bodily fluids release into the cold water below.

My wife came running into the bathroom shortly after letting out a howl that would wake up the dead. She figured I had cut myself shaving or such but what she saw was a man withering in pain and piss all over the wall, toilet and floor. The pain I felt can only be described as a crochet needle being shoved down the urethra of my cock. I figured something must be wrong.

I made an appointment with my doctor and he gave me a prescription for some drug. I finished the day afraid to pee but ready to float. I cried like a school girl as I waited for the pain to hit me like a truck. I had to be seated to go the bathroom for fear of falling but eventually the pain went away a day or so later. While the next few days went by, I still waited for that pain to return for at least a week.

All was great once the medicine kicked in to gear. I was back to normal until the pain came back a couple of days after the pills were gone. Again I was crying as I walked to the bathroom to relieve my self. The doctor gave me the wrong stuff and quickly became my x-doctor. That’s when I met him. The doctor that cured me from the agony that threatened to take over my life.

After getting a prescription of the right stuff I was cured. All he wanted to do was give me a check-up after the medication had done its job. When the day came for my appointment I was glad to be pain free. Check my heart, check my lungs and pee in a bottle and I’m on my way home. But as we talked I realized that there might be something else. An intrusion that has given men shivers and caused them to avoid the doctor at all costs. He wanted to check my prostate.

Now I am fairly open minded person but to have someone probe my anus isn’t something that I have ever looked forward to have happen. He asked me to drop my shorts and assume the fetal position on the table. I had fear in my eyes as he told me to relax and asked if it was my first time. His reassuring voice did nothing to calm my fears and I tensed at his touch. He smiled and said it would be ok as he handed me a paper towel and wrapped his digit in latex. As he cover his appendage with K-Y jelly, I closed my eyes, wanting the intrusion to be over. I tried to take the edge off the moment by asking if he was going to buy me dinner but it went unheard by him.

The feeling was not pleasant. I was too stiff and he had to ask me to relax numerous times. Eventually I gave into his desire as he slide his staff into to my sheath. Just when I thought he was through he push deeper into the abyss and I felt the pressure of his surging probe as it massaged my prostate. “Everything feels good MR. PE” but I didn’t agree. He pulled his finger apart with a snap and threw the dirty glove into the bio-hazard canister by the door and walked out of the room. I was cold and alone and left to clean up by myself.

I left the doctors office and went home feeling better about my health. I felt violated but healthy. I really was happy that everything turned out ok and I became friends away from the office with my doctor. And the best part of the story happened a few months later at a ball game. He actually did by me dinner.


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