Maybe not spot-on but hopefully do?
anonymous
October 5 2009, 22:30:02 UTC
"If you can just slip your trousers off, please."
The doctor's voice registers nothing but businesslike disinterest. Howard watches the man’s suit-clad back as he busies himself with something on the computer screen, scrolling through pages of notes, mouse clicks loud in the expectant air of the room. When he swallows, he can hear the sound it makes.
No, no... don’t. He unzips his fly and drops his trousers quickly, stepping out of them, feeling a little ridiculous in just boxers, shoes and socks - which isn’t helping, is it? His dick twinges and he closes his eyes, willing the feeling away. When he opens them the doctor has turned back to him, oblivious. Young, they get younger every year. Dr Vincent smiles, politely. Behind his steel rim glasses his eyes are very blue.
“Do you do a lot of heavy lifting at your job, Howard?”
“Yes, I...”
He holds his breath as the man’s hands make contact with his skin, pressing like that, moving higher until his fingertips dip beneath the hem of his checked boxers, close to the area of the strain. There’s no disguising it now. His hard-on swells, full, tenting the thin cotton. Howard feels his cheeks flush, a sudden flaring heat, as the doctor looks up to meet his gaze, an expression of vague, uncomprehending disgust on his face.
“Perhaps I should...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, just turns away again. Howard closes his eyes and wishes himself dead. He should say something, anything, but there’s no excuse when you’re blushing so guiltily. Maybe if he- the doctor turns back, then, easing one small hand into a white latex glove, the surface of it translucent, powdery. Howard can see the faint dusting of black hair on the back of the man’s hands through the stretched tight material. When he pulls on the second glove, it makes the faintest little snap sound. He twitches back his shirt cuffs in an elegant, concert-pianist gesture and Howard feels very faint, like he’d really like to lie down. The doctor says, “If you could just remove your underwear for me, please, Mr Moon?”
The doctor's voice registers nothing but businesslike disinterest. Howard watches the man’s suit-clad back as he busies himself with something on the computer screen, scrolling through pages of notes, mouse clicks loud in the expectant air of the room. When he swallows, he can hear the sound it makes.
No, no... don’t. He unzips his fly and drops his trousers quickly, stepping out of them, feeling a little ridiculous in just boxers, shoes and socks - which isn’t helping, is it? His dick twinges and he closes his eyes, willing the feeling away. When he opens them the doctor has turned back to him, oblivious. Young, they get younger every year. Dr Vincent smiles, politely. Behind his steel rim glasses his eyes are very blue.
“Do you do a lot of heavy lifting at your job, Howard?”
“Yes, I...”
He holds his breath as the man’s hands make contact with his skin, pressing like that, moving higher until his fingertips dip beneath the hem of his checked boxers, close to the area of the strain. There’s no disguising it now. His hard-on swells, full, tenting the thin cotton. Howard feels his cheeks flush, a sudden flaring heat, as the doctor looks up to meet his gaze, an expression of vague, uncomprehending disgust on his face.
“Perhaps I should...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, just turns away again. Howard closes his eyes and wishes himself dead. He should say something, anything, but there’s no excuse when you’re blushing so guiltily. Maybe if he- the doctor turns back, then, easing one small hand into a white latex glove, the surface of it translucent, powdery. Howard can see the faint dusting of black hair on the back of the man’s hands through the stretched tight material. When he pulls on the second glove, it makes the faintest little snap sound. He twitches back his shirt cuffs in an elegant, concert-pianist gesture and Howard feels very faint, like he’d really like to lie down. The doctor says, “If you could just remove your underwear for me, please, Mr Moon?”
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