A Sticky End (23 page)

“Now, then, McDermott, let's see what we've got here.” I lifted back his shirttail in what I hoped was a convincingly scientific way, thinking all the while how rapidly I'd be debarred if this escapade ever came to the attention of the General Medical Council. His cock was lying to one side, his balls pushed up by his thighs, the whole ensemble topped off with a dense bush of soft, black hair, which thinned and tapered up toward his navel. As I lifted the shirt further, I had leisure to observe his abdomen, which was impressively defined; the uncomfortable position into which I'd put him obliged McDermott to tense his muscles, to great effect. Oh, what a successful whore he must be! How easily men would ruin themselves over this!

“Right. I see.” I pressed my fingertips into his lower abdomen, delighting in the movement of the skin over the muscles. “Any pain, McDermott?”

“No, sir.”

I moved to one side. “Here?”

“No, sir.”

“Here?”

“No, sir.”

“Good, good. That rules out any abnormal internal developments.” God knows if he believed any of the nonsense I was spouting; all that mattered was that I had him at my mercy. “Now I'm going to take a look at your penis.”

“Sir…”

“Normally, I would wear rubber surgical gloves for this kind of inspection, but since you've told me that you are free from infection…”

“Yes, sir. I take care of myself.”

“You don't go with prostitutes, I take it?”

“No, sir.”

“You sound very definite on that point, McDermott.” And I know why, you being a prostitute yourself.

“I keep myself clean.”

I picked his cock up by the tip of the foreskin, which stretched slightly as I lifted it, such was the weight depending from it. “Any discharge?”

“No.”

“Normal function? Erection, ejaculation?”

“Er…”

“Or are there problems in that area?”

“No, sir!”

“You sound uncertain.”

“No, honestly—”

“I see. Well, it looks all right. Now, let me have a look down here. Open your legs, please, McDermott.”

He did as he was told, spreading his knees to the corners of the table.

“You have very large testicles, don't you?” I tried to make this sound like a bad thing.

“Do I?”

“Yes. Large, pendulous testicles. This can sometimes be
a sign of a much more complicated syndrome.” I took his balls in my hand. “Are they sensitive?”

“Sir?”

“To the touch. If I do this—” I gently rolled his balls against each other in a way that many men enjoy, myself included.

“Yes.”

“You feel something?”

“Yes, sir.” Good—I kept rolling.

“Discomfort? Pain?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“What, exactly, then? Hmmm? Go on.” I could tell exactly what he was feeling, because his cock had stirred to life. It was not getting bigger yet; it had simply made that small movement that revealed to the practiced eye that the libido had engaged.

“It feels… Well, it feels quite…nice, sir.”

“Nice?” I said, with a sneer. “Nice? What exactly do you mean?” I kept rolling.

“It feels good, sir. You know. Pleasurable.”

“Ah! I see! Now we're getting somewhere.”

“Is that a good sign?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Thank God.”

“Now, down here.” I moved my index and middle fingers down below his balls, pushing against his perineum. “Good. Good. That feels very regular.” His cock was definitely responding now, and had grown at least half an inch. “Any discomfort there? Or does that also feel ‘nice.' ”

“Yes, sir. That feels just fine.”

“Right. I see. This is more serious than I thought. The fact that your penis is responding in this way worries me.”

He looked stricken; I don't suppose anyone had ever complained when that handsome tool started to thicken and stiffen.

“Put your feet up on the table here.”

“Like this, sir?” He was getting the hang of this nicely, but I didn't want him to feel any less uncomfortable.

“Yes, that's good. No. Wait a minute. I can't see a thing.” His boots and pants were hindering my view of his hairy ass, which was my goal.

“Do you want me to take them off, sir?”

“There's no need for that.” I cupped his heels in my hands, and lifted. “Just put your legs in the air. That's it. Now hold them back for me.” He placed a strong hand on each hairy thigh, resting his knees back against his torso. His ass was completely exposed. I moved to the end of the table and bent down to inspect.

“Ah,” I said, as if I had just made a great discovery. “Now we come to the root of the problem.”

“What's the matter, sir?” came the voice from beyond the legs.

Nothing was the matter, of course; it was a beautiful ass, just how I like 'em, big and powerful, with enough hair to frame the exposed pink hole and remind me that this was a man, not a boy.

But I couldn't let McDermott know that, of course. We were approaching the psychological moment, so to speak, and now I had to put him even further at a disadvantage.

“Are you absolutely sure you're not homosexual, McDermott?”

“Why, sir? Is something wrong with me?”

“You have a convoluted sphincter.”

“A…what?”

“It's a rare condition, but I'm almost certain that's what this is. That would explain the endocrinology and the urine sample. In a normal man, the anus is completely different. Yours exhibits all the characteristics of what we call the pathic or convoluted sphincter. I will have to examine you to be sure, of course.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Not in itself.”

“Thank—”

“In men of that type. But if, as you say, you are not of that type, then we may have a serious problem.”

“Are they really so different, sir?” Ah—a tremble in the voice. That was what I had been waiting for.

“Completely different, McDermott. Homosexuality is not, as some would have you believe, a mental or emotional deviation. It is purely physiological, of the body. Now, in a normal man, the anal sphincter goes this way.” I ran a finger around his hole in a clockwise direction. “In a homosexual subject, it goes this way.” My finger moved counterclockwise. “Yours most definitely goes this way.” I kept moving my finger.

“What should I do?”

“All may be well. I'll examine further.” I lubricated my finger with a little Vaseline—yes, I carry it in my doctor's bag, of course—and pressed against his hole. “If I knew that you were a healthy homosexual subject, that is to say, a man who enjoys having sex with other men, I would not be so worried.” I penetrated him about an inch. “But if, as you maintain, you are interested in women, then we may have to…” I went further. “Oh, dear me. Oh. Oh dear.”

“What?”

“It's as I feared. We will have to perform surgery.”

His ring clamped around my finger. “Surgery?”

“Yes. As soon as possible. Today, even.”

“No, please, I don't need—”

“But McDermott,” I said, trying to sound warm and sympathetic, “if you want to live a happy married life and have children, it's absolutely essential. It's nothing to worry about. Just a couple of hours in surgery, and a week or so on the ward, then you'll be as right as rain in about six months.”

“Six months?”

“Of course, you'll have to convalesce. We can arrange leave for you, that won't be a problem. You will have to abstain completely from all sexual activity in that time.”

“What?”

“But what's six months' abstinence compared to a lifetime as a husband and father?”

My finger was still inside him. He was gripping his thighs so hard that the knuckles were white.

“I can't—”

“Yes, you can. Be brave, McDermott. It's actually a fascinating case, in its way. I would have staked my reputation on the fact that you were homosexual. You are almost a perfect specimen of the type. The way you're constructed…” I pushed my finger further in, until it made contact with his prostate, like a small potato covered in silk. “Yes! There we are! That's exactly what I expected to find. Fascinating, really fascinating. What a shame we'll have to operate. It may be more difficult than I thought.”

“No, sir, really. You don't have to.”

“Oh, really, McDermott. What's a scalpel and a pair of large metal tongs and a quick procedure with a saw compared to a fulfilled family life?”

“No—I was lying. I'm not like that. I'm what you said. You know. Homo-whatever-it-is.”

“What?”

“Homosexual.”

“I don't understand.” I kept pushing against his prostate.

“Queer. I'm queer.”

I clicked my tongue. “Oh dear, McDermott. I would have thought better of you. Telling lies just to avoid a simple, necessary surgical procedure. That's very silly. You're acting like a child.”

“No, really, sir. I am queer. I go with men. I always have
done. I just didn't want to tell you before.”

Now I pretended to be angry. “No, McDermott, this won't do. The medical profession is not something to be toyed with. I am a very busy man, and if I find you've been wasting my time I will be obliged to report it to your superiors.”

“Honestly, sir, I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I couldn't tell you before. I didn't realize that it was important. But it's true. It really is. I am like that. I go with men. I don't tell 'em that I like it, but I do. I do like it.”

“Hmmm.” I scratched my chin with one hand, caressed his prostate with the other. “Why should I believe you? How do I know you're telling the truth this time?”

“You have to believe me, sir. I swear.”

“I don't imagine your word is worth much, McDermott. You strike me as the sort of young fellow who is in the habit of saying one thing and meaning another. What about all these other men that you've lied to?”

“I did it because—I had to.”

“We'll talk about that later. First of all, you need to prove to me that you really are queer.”

“Sir?”

“Tell me what this feels like.” I pressed harder on his prostate.

“Good, sir.”

Another finger pushed against his ring, and joined the first inside him. He groaned and shifted a little. “And this?”

“Better, sir.”

“You like the feeling of my fingers inside you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don't believe you. I think you're lying to me, just to get out of having surgery.”

“No, honestly sir. I like it. I do.”

I started fucking him with those two fingers. “Do you?”

“If you don't believe me, sir—” He grabbed my free hand
and brought it to his groin. His cock was fully hard, and as hot as hell.

“Ah. That's a different matter.”

“See? I told you so.”

I withdrew my fingers from his ass. “Get up on all fours.”

He was quick to obey.

“Take the shirt off.”

He did so; his torso was magnificent, powerful, hairy.

“Now down.”

“Sir.” He rested his forehead on his forearm.

“For all I know, you're lying to me, McDermott. You're playacting. It's easy for a young man to produce an erection, isn't it? I have one myself, just from thinking about these things. See?”

It was my turn to grab his hand and bring it to my crotch. He squeezed what he found there.

“Yes, sir!”

“The only thing that will convince me that you are truly what you say you are is if you can ejaculate with something inside your ass.”

“I can, sir. Honestly I can.”

“My fingers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One? Or two?”

“Two, sir.”

“That still won't persuade me. What about three?”

“Yes, sir. Or more.”

“What about something really big? Like my penis?”

“Yes, sir. That would do it.”

“You'd let me fuck you up the ass?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You'd enjoy it?”

“Yes, sir. Very much.”

“You'd come while I did it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You're lying.”

“No, I'm not. Try it. Fuck me, sir. See how much I like it. I'll come for you. It won't take long.”

“All right, McDermott,” I said, unbuttoning and pulling out my painfully hard cock. “I hope for your sake you're telling the truth.”

“I am, sir. Please.” His hand was groping for my cock. I moved around to the front.

“You'd better suck it first. Get it wet.”

He did as he was told, sucking vigorously while I held his head in place. Finally, when I was slick with his spit, I moved to the rear.

“This had better be convincing,” I said, positioning my cock against the entrance to his “convoluted sphincter.” I pushed, and I was in.

He sighed. “It will be.”

“Are you enjoying that?”

“Yes, sir. Feel me.” I did; he was as stiff as a pole.

I was up on tiptoe, and the position was uncomfortable, so I ordered him onto the floor and there, as he lay on his back and pushed his hard cock against my stomach to persuade me of how much he loved it, I fucked him with all the force I could muster. He came first, looking absolutely delighted with himself as the white spunk jetted all over the dark hair of his torso. Then, as his orgasm subsided, I hammered mine into him.