(This chapter is not a follow-up to Chapter one. It is the exact same story, but narrated from Dr. McGregor’s Point of View, instead of from Brandon’s).
I’m Dominick, but people call me Dom. I’m 28 years old. I graduated from medical school two years ago and I’m currently finishing my residency. Because I opted for General Practitioner, part of my residency consists of doing rotations at a couple of General Practitioners’ offices. Today happens to be my first day with Dr. Polansky, a family doctor that I’ll be shadowing for the next two months.
Everybody here seems super nice and I’m eager to learn from Dr. Polansky who’s been a doctor for almost 35 years. Whether residents should be called ‘Doctor’ or not is kind of a grey area, but Dr. Polansky insisted that both patients and employees call me that name. It’s kind of funny to be called ‘Doctor’ left and right all of a sudden.
Family doctors tend to see mostly older patients. A lot of young people don’t even have a doctor, and those who do often only come once a year for their annual physical. However, older patients always seem to have something wrong that requires attention. So, most of the patients we saw today have been retirees. But our next patient was a 25-year-old lawyer called Brandon who was here for his annual. When Dr. Polansky told me ‘Lawyer’, I expected to see a nerdy guy in a suit and tie, wearing glasses. Dr. Polansky entered the consultation room where the patient was already waiting, and I followed in his footsteps.
Holly shit!
The guy was gorgeous. He could have been a fucking model. He stood up to shake Dr. Polansky’s hand and he must have been 6’3” or 6’4”. I’m 5’8” and he was towering over me. But he wasn’t just tall. He was also big. Not big as in fat, but big as in muscular: broad shoulders, big chest, and big arms that you could outline through his dress shirt. And he had a nice short beard, one that he clearly spent time grooming in the morning. He was one of those guys who, if he didn’t have a beard, would have a 5 o’clock shadow at 11am anyway. He had dark hair and was kind of Italian-looking. But he also had these amazing blue eyes. Fuck, he was hot!
After shaking Dr. Polansky’s hand, he shook mine. He had a firm handshake. He could have crushed my hand if he wanted to. But he was applying just the right amount of pressure. And when he looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, calling me ‘Doctor’, I just melted on the spot.
Dr. Polansky made casual chit chat. They sounded like old buddies who hadn’t seen each other for a while and were happy to catch up on life. Dr. Polansky had that ability to make all his patients feel comfortable when I’ve always been kind of introverted. Dr. Polansky went on to take his blood pressure and Brandon offered to take his shirt off, rather than rolling up his sleeve. Holly fuck! It kept getting better. Brandon was wearing a tank top and he looked HUH-MAY-ZING! He had nice big arms, not the arms of a body builder, but the arms of a guy who still spends time at the gym and can probably bench his own weight. And his big pecs were stretching the fabric of his tank top. He could have been the model on the tank top packaging, the ones I drool over when I discreetly roam the underwear aisle at a department store. He also had nice forearms, covered in dark hair. He was the definition of masculinity!
That was a sexy motherfucker of a patient!
I’m sure he noticed I was more than checking him out. He’s one of these guys who’s hot, knows he’s hot, and loves the attention. But I’m a fucking doctor now, I can’t let my patients know I’m checking them out. I had to get a hold of myself. But he was so fucking hot!
When Dr. Polansky went on to check his heart rate, Brandon offered to take his tank top off altogether. Can it get any better than this? The guy was ripped! I could now see the big pecs that had been stretching his tank top before. He was puffing his chest as he was inhaling and exhaling.
And his stomach was covered in dark hair. It was hard to tell how hairy he really was because he had done some grooming recently. His chest hair had just received a military cut, so to speak. But because his hair was dark, even that short, he looked so manly.
I happen to be hairy too. My last name is McGregor, and you would think I’m mostly Scottish with a name like that. But ironically, I’m more Irish than Scottish. I’m not full-on ginger, but more reddish blond. I’m not sure if Irishmen and Scotsmen are supposed to be hairy, but I am. I have a hairy chest and even my lower stomach is covered in reddish fuzz, not just my treasure trail. Because I’m short and only weigh 135 lbs, I’m glad I have chest hair. Otherwise, I’d look like a permanent teenager. That’s why I never trim my chest hair. When I wear a shirt, I like to leave the top button undone, so that my chest hair spurts out. I also like to wear sleeveless shirts to show off my hairy forearm. For the same reason, I normally have a 2 or 3-day stubble. I like that look on me. It also balances my small frame.
Once he was done with checking his heart rate, Dr. Polansky started asking Brandon questions about his sexual activity. And my jaw just about dropped on my clipboard. Brandon was gay! My gaydar was completely missing in action on that one. It cannot get any better than this!
I could not believe how blunt Brandon was, talking openly about all the guys he was railing, how he had no problem getting it up, how he needed magnum condoms but preferred fucking guys bareback anyway, and how much jizz he was shooting. He even came up with the most bogus excuse I’ve ever heard as to why he didn’t like using condoms because the pouch upfront didn’t leave enough room for him to explode and his cum was backing up in his dick. He was radiating big dick energy, but he was clearly bragging, kind like a guy exaggerating the size of the fish he caught. But there was something about him I couldn’t resist.
His sex life was clearly more interesting than mine. I’ve slept with eight guys in my life, and two girls, actually, in the reverse order. The two girls were in high school, at the time when I was still wrestling with my sexuality. The eight guys were in college and thereafter. But it sounded like Brandon was sleeping with eight guys every month.
This guy was so full of himself. How could a 25-year-old attorney brag about his sex life in a way that would make a frat boy blush? But even though he kind of sounded like a douchebag, there was something about him that was mesmerizing. Listening to him bragging about his big dick got me rock hard. This could not be happening! I’m a doctor doing a consultation with a patient and I’m fighting a hardon listening to his sexual prowess. I was wearing briefs and my dick was pointing downward, struggling to expand in the pouch, to the point it was painful. I tried to rearrange myself, hoping my blouse would conceal my hand movement, but I’m sure Brandon caught me. Fuck! I was rock hard and leaking precum in my briefs and my patient caught me. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He smiled at me with a ‘I know what you’re doing’ kind of look. He knew I was gay. And he knew I was next. His piercing blue eyes looked like they could penetrate my soul. He was reading me like an open book. Not that I was particularly subtle about how hot I found him.
When Dr. Polansky asked him if there was anything else, Brandon replied that he had a scratch on his penis that was bothering him. And Dr. Polansky asked if he could take a look at it. Holy shit! This cannot be happening. THIS CAN NOT BE HAPPENING! I’ve been dying to see his dick. Given how tall Brandon was and how much he was bragging about needing a Magnum condom, I’m sure he was big. But I really wanted to know how big. And I was about to find out. Holy fuck! I really have to get a hold of myself!
He stood up, dropped his pants, and his dick was now on full display for Dr. Polansky and me to see. Holy crap! His dick was huge! He was fully flaccid and I’m sure his dick was thicker than mine when I’m rock-hard. Actually, my dick WAS rock-hard, leaking precum like a fountain, and marinating in its own juice. I’m sure my dickhead would have wrinkles, kind like your fingers when you stay in the pool too long. I really had to find a way to jerk off after the consultation.
I don’t have the biggest dick in the world. My dick is normal size, a solid 6-inches, even if it’s kind of skinny. I’ve been with guys with smaller dicks than mine. And a couple others had a thicker one, but we’re not talking major difference. But Brandon was THICK, even flaccid.
Let’s face it, us gay guys are pretty basic. When we meet a guy for the first time, gay or straight, there are only two things we care about:
1) Does he have a big dick?
2) Does he know how to use it?
Those are the only two things that really matter. All the other considerations, like: Would he make a good husband? Is he financially responsible? Is he good to his mother?… are all complete afterthoughts. As long as he has a big dick and knows how to use it, we’re good! Brandon clearly ticked the first box. And based on everything I had heard in the last ten minutes; I had no doubt he also ticked the second box. Some guys just have that look on their face that they know what they’re doing in bed. Probably from confidence accumulated over the years, knowing they have no problem making their partners scream like a little bitch. He certainly had that look on his face, that he was an amazing lover, but not in a freaky way.
Dr. Polansky put his latex gloves on and started inspecting the scratch on Brandon’s glans. I moved closer to look at his scratch too. But who was I kidding? I didn’t give a fuck about his scratch. I moved closer to have his big cock in my face.
Dr. Polansky asked Brandon where he thought this scratch came from. And Brandon went back into full-on bragging mode, describing how he had railed a college student bareback, how the guy was a virgin, and his hole was really tight and how, later that same night, he railed a firefighter and how his dickhead was rubbing against the condom. And while he was describing all that, his dick started to get hard. Holy shit! His dick, which was already big when soft, got bigger and bigger. It didn’t even look like Brandon was embarrassed or even trying to fight his hardon. He was getting rock-hard in front of two doctors in the consultation room, and he didn’t fucking care! He apologized, just to apologize, but I bet he was proud of his boner.
The guy was hung like a horse. I’ve seen porn stars with bigger dicks. But that was the biggest I’ve seen in real life. The second biggest didn’t even come close. It’s not that he was particularly long: 7 or 8 inches if I had to guess. But he was so fucking thick. Not beer can thick, but certainly thick like a Red Bull can. I so wanted to be Dr. Polansky right now and have my fingers touching his horse cock, but without any latex gloves on.
When Dr. Polansky told him he would have to refrain from sex and not even masturbate for a full week, Brandon just screamed: ‘A full week?!?!’ as if he was told we had to chop his balls off. He made it very clear that he’d at least be jerking off, whether we liked it or not.
Once Dr. Polansky was done looking at his dick, Brandon got up from the examination table, his blood-engorged cock waving in-between his legs.He grabbed his underwear to put them back on, and he bent over in front of me. I’m sure he did it on purpose. Why else would he moon me? He was radiating alpha energy, making it clear he’d like to stuff his big cock up my ass, but then he was showing me his hairy hole. Was he just taunting me, telling me I couldn’t have it? Dr. Polansky was busy removing his latex gloves and completely oblivious to the whole scene.
Dr. Polansky left the room, leaving me alone with Brandon who was finishing getting dressed. He walked toward me. I had to look up to him, since he was at least half a foot taller than me, and he asked me if I enjoyed the show. I mumbled something along the lines of me just doing my job. But he knew. He knew I was lying. He knew I didn’t miss a second of his big cock stiffening in Dr. Polansky’s fingers. He knew I was rock-hard under my blouse and leaking precum like a creek. He knew I wanted him inside me. He just knew.
Luckily, the nurse arrived for his blood tests, which cut short the awkward conversation. She made me do it as part of my training. I got shivers all over my body when I grabbed his hairy forearm, looking for a vein to stick the needle into. I felt my cock twitch in my briefs at the exact moment our skins touched, and I released a big glob of precum in my briefs, which didn’t need any more soaking. I asked Brandon to make a fist, so that his veins would pop out. He did, and then lifted his fist a little higher than necessary, like a subdued uppercut. He couldn’t have made it more obvious he wanted to stuff his big cock up my ass.
He treated me like I was a submissive bottom. I wanted to tell him that I was actually a top and wouldn’t mind being the one sticking my cock in his hairy opening. But I was painfully aware how ridiculous that would sound. Given how cocky he was, he would have laughed in my face. He probably had fifty pounds over me. And my pencil dick when I’m rock-hard is skinnier than his monster coming out of a polar plunge. He was the real top.
Dr. Polansky came back to say goodbye. I shook Brandon’s hand one last time and I rushed to the bathroom to jerk off. I locked the door behind me, dropped my pants, fished my cock out of my precum-soaked briefs, closed my eyes, thinking about his horse cock waving between his thighs, and started beating off. I blew in less than 10 strokes, spraying my man juice all over the fucking mirror above the sink. How pathetic was that? I’m a grown man, who’s had sex with ten different partners, boys and girls, and I just had the best orgasm of my life, jerking off in a doctor’s office bathroom while thinking about a patient I just saw naked. What the fuck was wrong with me?!?!?
The next two mornings I was madly checking the test results to see if his had arrived yet. When I saw his name, my heart started racing at 120 bpm. I went straight to the STD section and, luckily, they were all negative: no HIV, no gonorrhea, no syphilis, nothing. I went to the nurse and asked her if I could be the one making the call to give Brandon his test results. I pretended I had to work on my communication skills, although there was certainly truth to that.
I was so nervous when I dialed his number. Part of me was hoping he’d send me straight to voicemail, but part of me also wanted to hear his voice again and use this call to check if this could go further. He picked up the call. I was sitting in a cubicle, hoping nobody would hear our conversation. I tried to keep everything professional. I told him his test results were all good and I went on to ask about the scratch on his penis. He told me everything was fine, and he should be back to normal this weekend. I then asked if he had refrained from masturbating, as Dr. Polansky had recommended. He just laughed in my face, saying there was no way he could leave the cobra in its basket for a week. And then he went on to explain that his cock was big enough that he could still jerk off without rubbing his dickhead. I felt my own cock stiffening in my pants as I was listening to him bragging.
He asked me if I needed to inspect his dick and give him the green light to use it again. I was so taken aback by his question that I said no. I regretted my response the instant the words came out of my mouth. The man of my dreams had presented me with an opportunity to put my hands on his massive cock and I turned him down because I was so nervous. Fffuuuccckk! Double fuck! Triple fuck! I’m a moron! Luckily, he told me I could always call him back if I ever changed my mind.
The minute I hung up, I started strategizing on how I could salvage the situation and climb out of the hole my sheer incompetence had just dug me into. I didn’t sleep well that night. I didn’t know what to do. I had just put myself through ten years of schooling and residency and, a year away from becoming a full-on doctor, I was willing to risk it all for what was nothing more than a booty call. But on the other hand, that was the opportunity of a lifetime. I know this term gets thrown around a lot. But at 28 years of age, I had never been anywhere close to having sex with a god of a man like Brandon was. His big fat cock was haunting my dreams.
I weighed the pros and cons of all the different options and opted to text him from my personal phone. Part of me knew that texts leave a trail. He could easily take screenshots of my messages. But I also didn’t want to call him from Dr. Polansky’s office for something that wasn’t medically required. I figured out my private phone was my private business. I was fucked either way. How ironic!
Luckily, Brandon was still interested, and we agreed I would go to his place on Saturday morning for what we called a ‘home visit’. But who were we kidding? We both knew this had nothing to do with the scratch on his penis. This was a booty call, plain and simple!
Saturday morning couldn’t have come fast enough. I was like a little kid counting the days until Christmas, wondering what Santa would bring through the chimney. All I wanted was to put my hands on his giant schlong, put it in my mouth, and blow him to completion. I’ve been told I was pretty good at giving heads, although I’ve never sucked a dick even remotely as big as Brandon’s. I wanted his dick in my mouth. I wanted to bury my nose in his pubes. I wanted to fondle his low hanging balls. I wanted the taste of his sweet precum on my tongue. And I wanted his cock to explode in my face, drenching me with his spunk. I didn’t even care about cumming myself. If I could suck his dick just that one time, I would have memories to jerk off to for the rest of my life. And if every orgasm from now on was like the one I had, jerking off in the bathroom of Dr. Polansky’s office, I would be the luckiest man alive.
But I knew he probably wouldn’t settle for a blowjob. He couldn’t have sex for a full week because of the scratch on his dickhead and he would probably want to unleash on my ass after that. The problem was that I’m a top, whether Brandon believes it or not. I’ve only bottomed for two guys in my life and the last time was before Covid. And their two cocks together were probably not as thick as Brandon’s monster. I would have to prep before I brought my tight ass to his apartment.
On my way back from work, I stopped by a bodega to buy a can of Red Bull. I just wanted to familiarize myself with the dimensions. When I got home, I started manhandling the can, wrapping my fingers around it, putting it in my mouth to see how much I had to stretch my jaws. As I was doing that, I was painfully aware of how pathetic the spectacle must have looked to a fly on the wall. A 28-year-old doctor putting a Red Bull can in his mouth pretending he’s sucking on the monster cock of his patient, while he’s jerking off with his other hand. I did some web search and found Brandon’s picture on his law firm’s website. Fuck, he was hot! It was a professionally photographed headshot, a black and white picture. Brandon was wearing a suit and tie, smiling at the camera, with his head turned slightly to the right. You could see his light blue eyes sparkling. And his short beard was groomed to perfection.
I started jerking my dick off with my right hand, rubbing my left hand on my hairy chest, pretending it was his hairy chest I was rubbing. And I eventually brought the Red Bull can back to my mouth, pretending I was sucking his big fat cock. The thumb and middle finger of my hand holding the can were barely touching each other while the fingers of my hand jerking my dick had no problem touching each other. I was jerking off, watching Brandon’s picture on my computer, and sucking on a Red Bull can. And my dick exploded, gushing jizz all over my computer screen, on Brandon’s face. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What was wrong with me?!?!?
But I had a more pressing problem to take care of. I couldn’t go to Brandon’s place without first stretching my manhole, which hadn’t been penetrated since Covid, three years ago. I only owned one dildo that I had bought the first time I bottomed. It had been collecting dust in my closet ever since. I’m not a bottom and I’ve never had to use it. The dildo was normal size. I placed it next to the Red Bull can and studied them both side-by-side. The dildo was nowhere close to the size of the can. But it was still better than nothing, to at least break me in a little. I laid on my back, poured some lube on my fingers, and started fingering my hole, with one finger, and then two, and then three. The third one was a bit harder to push in. Then I put plenty of lube on the dildo and forced it inside my manhole. It hurt like hell. The dildo was stretching my ring like it hadn’t been stretched in years. I was staring at the Red Bull can on my nightstand, fully aware of how much bigger it was. I just couldn’t figure out how Brandon’s massive cock would ever manage to penetrate me. I would find out the next day.
I woke up early on Saturday. I went out for a run to shake my nerves and had a nice hot shower to relax my muscles. And I took the subway to Manhattan. The doorman called Brandon and sent me to the 16th floor. I knocked on the door and Brandon opened it. He was almost naked, wearing just a pair of briefs. He was even hotter than I remembered. My jaw just dropped to the carpet. Holy fuck! In addition to being a tank top model, he could also have been an underwear model. His package looked huge, forming a perfect bulge in his briefs, and he had just the right amount of hair above the waistband. But I already knew all that. His muscles were bulging, the biceps on his arms, the quads on his legs, his broad shoulders, his big pecs. His chest hair had grown back a little since earlier in the week. Because he’s 6’3” and I’m only 5’8”, my eyes were leveled with his neck. I didn’t have to look very far down to look at his hairy chest. I was so intimidated. I was wearing a polo shirt, showcasing my hairy forearms, and letting my chest hair peek out of the collar. I had left both buttons undone. In front of this Roman warrior, I had to display all the masculinity I could gather out of my 135-pound runner’s body.
He let me in and closed the door behind me. We made small talk to lighten the mood, him fully comfortable in his underwear and me completely uncomfortable, fully clothed. Somehow, he knew I was a runner and complemented me on running a marathon under three hours. He seemed to know a lot about running and track in general.
But then came the big moment. He offered to sit on his couch. He took his briefs off, and I was faced again with his big cock, which was fully flaccid but just as big as I remembered it. Since he was on his couch, I had no other option but to get down on my knees to inspect the scratch on his glans.
I grabbed his dick with my fingers, and it sent shivers all over my body. I looked at his dickhead from several angles, like Dr. Polansky had done the other day, and I felt his dick stiffening under my touch. His big dick was right there, getting bigger in my fingers, inches from my mouth.
I had to have it. I had to taste it.
I tilted my head forward, opened my mouth, and engulfed his dickhead. What was I supposed to do? It was right there in front of my eyes, begging me to be swallowed. And my fingers started jerking up and down his shaft while my tongue started swirling around his dickhead. His dick tasted like a man. His pubes were right in my nostrils. A mix of sweat, manly musk, and dry piss. Fuck! It was intoxicating. He brought his hands on top of my head and started guiding me up and down his pole, not that I needed any guidance to blow him. I had wanted to do this the minute I first saw him. He moaned a little and told me to keep sucking his dick. It was on!
I pride myself in knowing how to suck dick, granted I’ve never handled a model that size before. The guys I’ve blown before have told me I was a natural. Naively, I was hoping that if I did a phenomenal job blowing him, he would let me do it to completion, and I still had a chance to save my ass.
I started tasting precum flowing out of his piss slit. It was sweet. It tasted good. I couldn’t wait to find out what his real cum tasted like. As we were getting into a rhythm and I could feel his tide rising, he stopped me and pulled his big cock out of my mouth. He told me had other plans for me. I was going to get fucked.
He pulled my polo shirt over my head, revealing my hairy chest. I unbuckled my pants while he was doing that. I was now in my red briefs. I don’t have Brandon’s muscular body. As a marathon runner, I never work out my upper body. I can’t afford to put on extra weight I’d have to carry over 26.2 miles. Or maybe that’s just an excuse for skipping the weight room at the gym. I’ve always had an inferiority complex when comparing myself to other athletes. In high school, long distance runners weren’t even viewed as real athletes by the other kids, just because we were so skinny. All eyes were on the football and basketball players. I might as well have been in the fucking chess club and people would have taken me more seriously. But I already had defined muscles back then. And I still do, mostly because my body fat is at 8%. I have a nice 6-pack, partially hidden behind my ginger hair, and my biceps are visible on my skinny arms. I think I’m pretty hot, in my own way. Brandon looked at me and liked what he saw. He thought I was pretty hot too. That made my dick twitch in my tight briefs.
He looked me in the eyes and said: ‘You saw my test results, Doc. I’m clean. If you really want my cock, you’re gonna take it raw’.
I’ve never had sex with a stranger without a condom before, neither as a top nor as a bottom, not a single time in my life. It’s just something they engrain into you in medical school. It’s what we’re supposed to tell our patients. And I’m about to let this guy fuck me raw. Granted I just saw his test results from five days ago and they were all negative indeed.
Part of me wanted to put an end to it all and run back home. This was going WAY too far. Just like I came, I could get back on the subway, and travel back from Manhattan to the far corners of Brooklyn, the only place where I could afford rent while finishing my residency.
But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t run away from the opportunity to have sex with the hottest guy I’ve ever met. It’s like if Shawn Mendes had picked me out of a crowd and asked me if he could fuck me. Shit like that never happens in real life. Of course, Shawn Mendes can fuck me. I want your Canadian cock in my ass, Shawn. I want you to spray your maple syrup all over my pancake. Fuck me, Shawn Mendes! And Brandon was bigger, hotter, more masculine, and I’m sure had a bigger cock than Shawn Mendes. And he wanted to fuck me raw. Please fuck me, Brandon! Shove your horse cock in my ass. I’m all yours!
He had so much power over me. Right here, right now, I’d do anything he asked me to. He was like one of these natural salesmen who could sell you anything. You blink and you realize you just bought a new car when you only came in for an oil change. If he had told me he wanted to fuck me dry and shove his horse cock up my ass with no lube and no fingering, I would have asked: ‘Where do I sign?’ He was that convincing!
He lowered my briefs, revealing my little package. I was so embarrassed, knowing my dick was not even half the size of his. And it wasn’t for a lack of trying, because my dick was harder than it had ever been. I make it sound like I have a micro-penis. But that’s not the case at all. My dick is actually a solid 6 inches, even though it might be on the skinny side. I’ve never had any complex about my manhood, until Brandon took his underwear off in Dr. Polansky’s office the other day. It’s not that my dick was small. It’s just that his was so much bigger.
‘So that you know, I’m pretty dominant in bed, Doc. I hope that’s OK with you’ he said.
At least, I knew what I was in for. He went to his bathroom to get some lube. I thought he was going to come back with a normal tube, the kind you find at the pharmacy. Instead, he came back with a dispenser that looked like it was industrial size. He had a grin on his face, kind of implying that it’s what it would take to make his monster dick fit into my tight opening. Fuck! That was intimidating! As if I needed any more reminder that his schlong was huge.
He poured lube on my manhole and started fingering me. My hole was pretty accommodating. The dildoing I did yesterday had opened me up somewhat. And then he brought the tip of his dick to my frightened hole. And he pushed in. The initial entry was not so bad. Brandon didn’t have a big mushroom head and it went in easily. But the deeper he went, the thicker his cock got. When he started feeling a little bit of resistance, he pulled his cock out, poured more lube on my entrance and on his shaft, making a big slurping sound with the lube dispenser, and he shoved it back in. At that point, it felt like if a real eggplant was being stuffed up my ass; and an eggplant that had been dipped in molten lava. The expression ‘my ass is on fire’ had never been truer. My ass WAS on fire. And his inches kept getting thicker. And my ring kept getting enlarged, beyond its breaking point. I had never been in so much pain in my life. How much longer was his cock? Since I was on all fours and he was taking me from behind, I couldn’t watch what was going on, and was completely clueless as to how much further he still had to go. But I eventually felt his pubes pressing against my butt cheeks, and I knew I had taken all of him. Finally! And it wasn’t just my ring that was on fire. My inner walls were also being stretched by his fat schlong.
The moment I thought things were going to get better because he didn’t have any more meat to shove into my hole, he started pulling out and the pain got even worse. It felt like his cock was pulling my inner walls out of my ass. The exit might have been even more painful than the entry. I was moaning like a little bitch from all this agony. And he forced his cock back in, and back out, and back in. Every stroke felt worse than the previous one and I wasn’t feeling the ‘pain eventually gave way to pleasure’ that everybody keeps talking about. The pain gave way to even more pain. It was excruciating!
The initial penetration just shut my brain off. My mind couldn’t come up with any coherent thought. The pain was so unbearable that pain was all I could focus on, and it crowded out any other coherent thought out of my brain. After a while, it’s not that pleasure replaced pain. The pain was still there. But I could at least start feeling some pleasure in addition to the pain, as his big fat cock was hammering my prostate. And it’s like a switch got turned on in my brain and my mind started racing.
First of all, I still couldn’t believe I had agreed to this. I knew this was going to be painful. I had plenty of opportunities to run away and never see this guy again. But I couldn’t. I was being drawn to him, his big frame, his hairy pecs, his big biceps, and his massive dick. Even his cockiness was kind of a turn on. Even his frat boy humor. His comments about how he had been railing that college student bareback were so inappropriate, but still funny at the same time. And now, it was me who was in the former spot of that college student, being railed bareback by his big fat cock.
Bizarrely, I started feeling pride. Brandon could get any guy he wanted. And he apparently did… quite frequently. The fact he wanted me was rewarding. I might not be 6’3” and have his muscles, but I’m still pretty hot. At least I think so. And, apparently, he thought so too. He picked me to be the first one to test drive his healing dick. I also felt pride I could handle his girth, even if my tortured hole hated me for it right now. I’m a top. I haven’t bottomed for years. And my first time back into the game was with the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. And I was taking it. I was taking it like a champ. It wasn’t easy. It hurt like hell. But I was doing it. That was something to be proud of.
But more than anything else, I felt lucky that I had the opportunity to ride a monster like his. It was like all my life I had been driving Fords and Toyotas, and then I saw a Lamborghini, knowing that power cars like that were only for others, not for guys like me. And then I was allowed to take a look at the Lamborghini from up close. And I started dreaming about the Lamborghini, what it would feel like to lay my hands on the steering wheel. And then, I was allowed to touch it. And now I was riding it for a test drive. I was riding a fucking Lamborghini! This might be the only time in my life that I get the chance to do that. It was a bit scary. But I had a chance to ride a fucking Lamborghini and I was going to enjoy it. I was going to enjoy the power, the thrill, and the exclusive experience.
Brandon was clearly testing my limits. He was alternating slow cunting with longer, deeper thrusts, just to gauge how much I could handle his girth. Although I felt like I was being struck by lightning every time he pushed in deeper, it also turned me on. Being dominated like that was surprisingly erotic. If there was any kind of rivalry between Brandon and me, I lost. What can I say? I just lost. I had already lost before the battle even began. He was taller than me, bigger than me, stronger than me. And he’s got a fucking anaconda between his legs when I only have a viper at best. I just lost and I was going to take it gracefully. Maybe ‘graceful’ wasn’t quite the right word, since I was up on all fours, ass up, face down on his couch, with a baseball bat rammed inside my ass. There was nothing graceful about that. But somehow, it felt hot as fuck. Even though I couldn’t see what was happening behind me, I could still picture his massive rod, plunging in and out of my hole, stretching my mancunt beyond its limit. And it turned me on just thinking about it.
All I could see was the brown leather of his couch, and the reflection of the sun on the leather. It just dawned on me that he was standing on his couch, right in front of the window. I have no clue how far his neighbors were and how many people could see him. But he didn’t seem to care. He was naked in front of his window, his big cock plunging in and out of my ass, riding me like a mechanical bull, and he didn’t care if people saw him. He didn’t fucking care! Or maybe he wanted his neighbors to watch him fuck me raw.
If this was a carefree environment and everybody was free to do whatever the fuck they wanted, then there was no reason why I should be holding back. I started moaning louder. Brandon picked up on it right away and he started railing me harder. The harder he railed me, the louder I got. And the louder I got, the harder he railed me. By then, I was no longer moaning. I was plain screaming.
When my screaming got louder, he started talking dirty, calling me his bitch, and telling me how I loved his cock in my ass. Surprisingly, the dirty talk turned me on a little. Let me rephrase that, it turned me on a lot. As a top, I’ve never talked dirty to any guy I’ve fucked, and I’ve never called anybody my bitch either. And the two guys who had fucked me in the past never talked dirty to me. They were both super attentive and concerned about my wellbeing. This dirty talk was completely new to me. Fuck! Where have I been all these years? How much have I been missing out? And I stared screaming louder. And he started calling me even more names, humiliating me, degrading me. And I loved it! And I even started to talk back. I begged him to fuck me harder and turn me into even more of a bitch than I already was.
And he did something incredible. He moved his left leg and pressed his left foot against my neck. I thought he was going to break my neck. But he ended up pressing his hands against the small of my back for support and most of his weight was on his right foot and his arms. He only distributed limited weight on his left foot, but still enough to pin my head against his leather couch and force me to lay the left side of my head against the leather, the right side now being under his foot. And he kept ramming his big cock in my aching ass. I was being completely dominated by this stud, my manhole enduring his pounding completely defenseless. And it made me scream even louder.
My hole was being hammered; absolutely hammered! And now my balls were being hammered too. His big balls were swinging in-between his legs and banging on my balls. The pain of my balls being slammed by his was nothing in comparison to the pain of his club lodged in my ass, but it kind of distracted me from the pounding, rather than adding to it.
I was completely powerless, being used like a toy. And for some reason, relinquishing whatever little power I still had left was exhilarating. It was almost liberating. My whole life, I’ve been trying to be responsible: working hard at school, being a good student, getting good grades, putting myself through college, navigating through life, and tracing my route to becoming a doctor. Although I like being in charge, being in charge is also a lot of pressure. For some reason, knowing at this very moment, I had zero control over anything, and I had relinquished control to a guy I didn’t even know, was just liberating. There was no other word for it. He was in charge, and I just let things happen.
Even my dick wasn’t in charge. My dick had received zero attention ever since I walked into Brandon’s apartment. But it was harder than hard, barely wavering under the assault because it was so rigid. I was on the verge of cumming even though my dick hadn’t been touched. But the pounding of my ass by his big cock and the exhilaration of being dominated by this stud seemed enough to make me blow. How was that possible? I’m a fucking doctor. I should know how the nerve endings in my sphincter are connected to the nerve endings in my penis. I’ll have to look it up when I get back home. Did I just waste the last ten years of my life not learning anything about anything?
That rough sex was just incredible. I was right thinking that Brandon would be amazing in bed. But I was wrong thinking it wouldn’t be freaky. He was a freak in bed! He was doing things to me I didn’t even know were possible. Most porn stars didn’t even know how to do what he was doing to me. Only the dirtiest bondage sites would have scenes like that. Now, my entire sex life felt so lame compared to what I had just experienced in the last hour.
He kept switching between calling me ‘Doc’ and calling me his ‘bitch’. I’m not sure which of the two was more humiliating. When he was naked in the consultation room in front of me, while Dr. Polansky and I were wearing our blouse and our stethoscope, he was calling me ‘Doctor’. Not that he had any insecurity about being naked in front of us by the way. But now that I was the one naked in front of him, with my hole exposed and his massive piece of meat stuffing me, he was just calling me ‘Doc’.
And I was begging for more of his cock inside my hole, begging over and over again. I was begging like a cheap slut, wanting to be bred. I had never fallen so low before. What was happening to me?
After fucking me from behind for a while, he eventually lifted his foot off my neck, and he pulled out in one thrust. My inner walls went from being fully stuffed by a huge foreign object to retracting and filling void, like if a gigantic suction cup had tried to pull my guts out of my stomach, all through my battered asshole. He grabbed my waist and flipped me around to put me on my back. He didn’t ask me. He didn’t make me do it. He just did it. Just flipped me on my back!
He grabbed my ankles with his strong hands and forced me to spread my legs like a cheap whore. I was on my back, with my ass up, and my legs spread open, almost doing the splits. My hairy hole was fully exposed, wide open, like the beak of a chick in the nest, begging to receive its worm. Except I wasn’t going to receive a worm, but a massive rod that would be destroying my manhole with every thrust. But my hole had already been beaten to submission and just accepted his manhood with zero resistance. He just presented his dickhead to my hole and bottomed out in one long push. My insides were being stuffed again.
From that angle, it felt like he had even better access to the depths of my bowels and was lodging his big cock even deeper inside my cunt and banging my prostate on its way in an out. The pain had almost completely disappeared, and his big cock now felt amazing inside me. I started screaming, even louder than before, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure his big cock was bringing to my hole. And now I could see his face, which turned me on even more. In his beautiful blue eyes, I could see strength, I could see determination, I could see domination. He was going to bring me to the boiling point, and there was nothing I could do to fight it off. He was a man on a mission!
He grabbed his briefs, which he had placed on the couch’s armrest when he got undressed, and he stuffed them into my mouth to muffle my screams. I had his fucking underwear in his mouth. I don’t know how long he had been wearing them, but they smelled like him. They tasted like him. They tasted like a man. It was like I was being spit-roasted by a single man, feeling his cock in my asshole, and tasting his cock in my mouth, all at the same time. It seems that the muffled sound of my screaming in his briefs turned him on too because he started pounding me even more relentlessly, if that was even possible.
He yanked his briefs out of my mouth and went on to kiss me. Him lowering his body changed his angle of attack and he started hitting new spots inside my cunt. He pulled out a little and his dickhead was now hammering my ring and my prostate. I started screaming in his mouth. His lungs must have ballooned all the way to his rib cage, with how much air I was blowing inside him when screaming. I was getting close to exploding, even though my dick still had not been touched. But my dick eventually started to be touched. Our two stomachs were rubbing against each other, and my dick was caught in the middle. His lowering his stomach against mine ended up crushing my balls. That was a new source of pain, but it felt like good pain, if that makes any sense. His hard pecs were flexing with every thrust, and my dickhead ended up being caught in the crevice of his 6-pack. He was jerking me off with his pecs!
Fuck, he knew what he was doing! None of the guys I’ve been with before came anywhere close to his skills and his stamina. I certainly couldn’t compete, not just with the size of my dick, but also with how I used it. He got a straight A on both my earlier questions. And aside from screaming and taking it like a starfish, I had nothing to contribute.
I was already so close to the edge that only a few strokes would suffice. I felt my jizz boil in my crushed balls, and my dick exploded on my stomach, shooting rope after rope of jizz on my hairy chest and on his, having my orgasm being fucked out of my hole by his big cock and my dickhead being jerked by his rock-hard abs. Seeing me blow was all he needed. And as soon as I started shooting, he yelled: ‘I’m going to drown your cunt, Doc!’ He gave me one last thrust, and his cock started releasing his alpha juice inside my cunt, as he was raping my mouth to muffle my screams, rope and ropes of manly spunk.
To say this was the best sex of my life would be an understatement. It was out of this world sex. The kind of sex you write books about. It blew my mind even more so than it blew my dick. I didn’t have that much experience as a bottom, but he put to shame the two guys who had fucked me before. And I can humbly say that I never made any guy that I topped scream the way Brandon made me scream. He was an incredible lover. Although what we just didn’t couldn’t really qualify as love. It was sex, pure sex, in its rawest and most bestial form. He might be cocky as fuck, but he is not selfish in bed… or on a couch for that matter. He might brag a lot, but he delivered on his promises. He took me to places I didn’t even know existed. He turned me into a submissive bitch, even though I always considered myself to be a top. It’s like he knew things about me I didn’t even know myself. Or maybe I knew them all along but didn’t want to admit it.
He collapsed on me, and we both tried to catch our breath. My manhole was like Ground Zero, a scene of absolute devastation. I’m sure my hole would require anal reconstruction. At least I had friends from medical school who went on to become surgeons and I knew who to contact for that. Now that I had reached the stars and was coming back down to earth, I realized how sore my asshole was. It was still gasping around Brandon’s big cock, which was still rock-hard, and still lodged inside me. Meanwhile, my balls would have to work double-shift for a week to replenish all the spunk he milked out of my cock. And my chest hair was covered in white jizz.
He asked me if I wanted to shower, but I told him I’d prefer to do that at home. This was my first time being fucked without a condom. This was the first time a guy flooded my hole with his spunk. I’ve never had to deal with cum dripping out of my ass. Gay sex is all fun and games until you have to deal with the aftermath. Part of me didn’t want to ride the subway back home with his babies in my guts. I wasn’t sure if my ravaged hole would be able to seal shut and keep his spunk from dripping inside my pants in the subway. But I also didn’t want to take care of this in Brandon’s bathroom. I didn’t know if pushing his babies out was going to make any noise. I didn’t know if I was going to smell of cum all the way home. To some extent, disposing of his babies felt like it would be even more humiliating than having endured the pounding of his monster, and I preferred to deal with that at home.
He told me: ‘Thanks for the visit, Doctor’ on his way out.
He called me Doctor, not Doc. The role play was over. My life was back to normal, although I had probably been transformed forever.