This story is a work of adult erotic fiction, ©2025 Dave Brumaste. All rights reserved. It is protected under U.S. copyright law, and no part of it may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the author's express written permission. The author grants www.nifty.org and its mirror sites permission to host this story.
Disclaimer #1: This story contains descriptions of adult homosexual activities. If you are under the legal age of majority in your jurisdiction, if this content offends you, or if it is illegal to view such material where you live--please do not proceed. If you do choose to read on, I hope you enjoy it!
Nifty provides a free platform for hosting a wide variety of stories and relies on donations to keep running. If you'd like to support their efforts, visit: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.
Thanks to the readers who emailed me to say they enjoyed chapters 1 and 2. I appreciate the kind words and suggestions. Please keep them coming.
I really wanted to explore themes like: Masculine bonding, maleness, and non-romantic yet intimate friendships between men. This chapter is the result of that.
Disclaimer #2: *There is an apology to a certain group of possible readers at the end (you may or may not know who you are). It would be a bit of a spoiler to put it off the top, so consider this an apology in advance, and I'll get more specific at the end.
I'd love to hear your thoughts! Feel free to contact me at axiszero@tutamail.com.
OK... here goes... it's the morning of Dave and Sam's big meeting:
"Dude, You Too?" Chapter 3: "Nothing I Haven't Seen Before"
"Hi Dave. Sorry I'm late."
He wasn't really late. But I was glad for the excuse to make some small talk and break the ice. "No worries. You got here just before my anxiety peaked... so, all good."
I was super stressed about this meeting. Too revved up to sit, so I just stood there in the middle of the room.
After waiting on this for days, I was nervous he'd say there was going to be even more waiting. I wasn't sure I could sit it out much longer.
Now the moment of truth was finally here.
"You're already undressed?" He kind of waved his hand in my direction.
"We both know that this was gonna end up with my pants off, so I thought I'd save time." I explained, a little sheepishly.
"OK, then, let's see what we're working with here." He pulled up a chair, sat down, rubbed the palms of his hands together and wrapped them around my thigh, just above the knee, "This OK?"
I looked down at him and nodded. "Feels normal." As if this is something that happened every day.
"Yup. Everything feels really good to me too." He agreed.
That was nice to hear. Especially from someone who knew me so well.
He repeated the process a few more times. His hands moving up my hairy quad toward my groin. Just a few inches at each interval. I could feel a HINT of response to his touch in my penis... but after last night when I'd nearly masturbated myself into another realm (and a quickie in the shower this morning), I was still in recovery mode. So I wasn't too concerned about becoming erect. Not fully anyway.
"OK," he said, dark eyes looking up at me, "Ready for the main event?"
I swallowed hard, raised an eyebrow and forced a smile, "Let's do this."
His hands inched up one last time, until the purlique of his left hand could go no higher.
His left thumb was resting in that little notch of my crotch where the scrotum meets the thigh. His index finger was wrapping around to that little cleft where butt cheek meets leg. I could feel my scrotum brush the back of his hand.
He looked up at me, pressed his thumb into my muscle, and said, "You quit shaving?"
"Who'm I trying to impress? My right hand?" I replied with a smirk.
"Other than the scrub-brush down there," he nodded toward my crotch, "everything feels good. Feel good to you? No tenderness?"
"Nope," I shook my head, "feels fine. Does this mean I can do squats again doc?"
Doctor Diego started the process over on the other leg, with less focus this time, "Based on what I'm feeling I'd say you absolutely should not be skipping leg day anymore."
"Ha, ha. Very funny." I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, I think you're off the disabled list. Now, don't jump back in at 100 percent. Let's start at 50 and build from there. That adductor muscle is definitely still healing, but it's ready to get back to work. Is it cool If I get a visual?"
Knock yourself out, Doc," I said, keeping things professional. But as he lifted my paper gown, exposing my hairy, adult, penis, I could see the casual familiarity in his expression. Dr. Xavier Diego had seen it all before.
I took over holding up the flimsy material so he could confirm with his eyes what his hands were telling him. This could have been a very awkward scene... but Doc Diego and my penis were no strangers.
Today's appointment was my final checkup on a muscle I strained last month, but I've been seeing Doc Diego--Xavier, as he insists I call him--ever since my fall off a ladder a few years ago.
Back then, I was basically useless for a month. The break had required surgery, and even simple things like buttoning my pants or opening a jar were out of reach.
I like living alone, but as much as I hated to admit it, while I was healing I really needed a lot of help. I probably could have asked Sam, but he was running the business full time while I was out, so he was ALREADY helping, in probably the most important way.
After my surgery, Doc Diego was one of the first people who came to visit me in the recovery room, and he gave it to me straight. They were sending me home after just one night in the hospital, and being home was going to be hard. He asked, "Do you have anyone to help out?"
I explained that my ex had moved out of the country and my business parter was gonna be keeping our company afloat, but I thought I could handle it.
He knew better.
"Here's my card. Call me if you need ANYTHING, at any time, OK? We've got a lot of work to do to get you back into fighting shape, and if you spend these first two weeks slowly melting into a BarcaLounger, malnourished, dehydrated and unwashed, that work is gonna be much harder and much smellier. I'm not ASKING you to call me if you need anything, I'm TELLING you so that my job isn't a thousand times harder when we start your rehab."
He drove home his point by placing his card on my chest and ever so gently pressing down on it with his palm while looking straight into my eyes and raising an eyebrow. The pain that radiated across my chest and into my shoulders took my breath away.
"And that was me just BARELY pressing." He raised an eyebrow to say, `See? I'm not fucking around.'
His hand lingered on my chest. It was a really warm, masculine, genuine gesture that lasted just long enough, and a little too long all at the same time. I noticed then how fit he was. The slightly too short sleeves of his scrubs put his guns on display. Each of Doc Diego's biceps proudly displayed a prominent cephalic vein running down the top. That's the vein I can only get to pop for a bout half an hour after doing all the curls I can possibly coax out of my middle aged arms.
I was jealous of his forearms too. They were strong and thick, like first-baseman thick, and fairly hairy.
I screwed my mouth up, swallowed my pride and nodded. "Loud and clear doc. Loud and clear."
He patted my clavicle gently, picked up his card and put it on the table next the bed. Then he made the universal telephone symbol, placing his hand up to his head with his thumb at his ear and his pinky in front of his mouth. He pantomimed the words "call me," and headed out.
Two days later, Xavier was in my living room. But even then, I couldn't shake the habit of calling him `Doc Diego' in my head.
"What took you so long?" he asked, standing in front of me, hands on his hips.
I was right where he said I would be: My Lay-z-Boy.
"Thanks for coming Doc. I don't think I can get out of this thing. I literally peed in a Pringles can last night." I nodded to the side table.
Doc Diego reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of black rubber gloves and snapped them on. He turned up his nose, pinched the rim of the Pringles cylinder, picked it up and walked it to the bathroom.
"This is really fucking gross dude," I heard him call out from the hall bath over the sound of my shame being poured into the toilet.
"I know man. I know... I thought with the pain meds I'd be OK... but you were right. I can't do SHIT like this. And speaking of shit..."
Doc Diego stopped me short. "Nope! I have a line... but here's what I WILL do..."
I heard the toilet flush and he returned from the bathroom with the Pringles tube, held it up, dangled it a little, and raised his eyebrows.
"Under the sink," I said tilting my head toward the kitchen. Inferring he wanted to know where the garbage was.
He called out from behind the granite island behind me: "What I WILL do is get you into the bathroom, onto the crapper, and then into the shower... but I will not wipe your ass."
"Fair enough," I sighed.
On his way back to me in the recliner, he reached into his pants and pulled something out. I could hear metal clinking.
"Can you lean forward?" He asked, letting the gait belt dangle from his raised right hand.
"What's that?" I asked, suddenly wondering if it was a good idea to let a, very nice, but totally unknown, stranger into my house. Especially a stranger who travels with restraints.
"It's gonna help me get you out of that chair."
I leaned forward as far as I could muster, and Doc Diego leaned in, his head almost next to mine. Either he smelled really good, or my nose had just gotten used to whatever odor I was emitting, but he smelled clean, like he'd just showered.
Doc Diego took the strap and lowered it behind my back. One end had a metal compression buckle. I heard the metal of the buckle jangle as he passed the other end of the woven belt through and tightened it so the belt was was snug around me just below my ribcage.
I'd been wearing the same thing I wore since leaving the hospital: A grey pair of comfy, jersey, sweatpants and a matching, slightly oversized, zip up hoodie. No underwear or undershirt. Those were too hard to put on or take off in my current condition.
"Ready?" He asked behind raised eyebrows.
"As I'll ever be doc." I replied.
I could move my hands and bend my elbows without too much pain, but any shoulder action was excruciating. So I basically I kept my elbows at my side and used my forearms to do everything, like I was doing a T-Rex imitation.
Even with my limited mobility, I half heartedly reached out to grab the armrests and help push myself up. When Xavier saw what I was doing he stoped pulling on the belt and leaned in closer. "Can you put your hands here?"
He patted the backside of his arm, just above the elbow.
I nodded and gripped just below his tricep notch and then leaned into him hard. My face fully in his neck. What was that smell, Dove? Gain?
The pain was excruciating, but Doc Diego knew what he was doing and in no time I was up on my own two feet.
"You good?" He asked.
"Yeah, yeah. Good. Where's that OxyContin again?" I joked.
"Not yet dude," he smiled, "Let's get you emptied out and cleaned up and then we can discuss painkillers."
We walked down the hall and I could feel his hand at the small of my back holding the gait belt. Probably out of habit. I wasn't having any mobility or balance issues, but it was reassuring nevertheless.
"Nice place!" He said as we approached the main bedroom.
"Yeah. It was not so great when we moved in, but I've done a ton of remodeling and renovating since my ex and I split. I added on this whole main bedroom suite in fact."
Xavier nodded, "Looks great, I like all the dark tones."
"It's a bachelor pad these days so I didn't have to compromise. I wanted a masculine space. Plus all I really do is sleep in here, so darker, warmer colors kinda made sense."
As we approached the ensuite bathroom I started to feel a little apprehensive and nervous. Getting me out of a chair was one thing, but getting me up and down off the shitter was something much more personal.
I hadn't had to take a dump in front of anyone since my college days.
Back then, my fraternity house was ancient--built at a time when utility mattered more than privacy.
The main bathroom was just two large spaces. A massive, open shower room with like 10 heads coming out of opposing walls and a single head at the end of the room.
The other room had 5 sinks, 5 mirrors and, shockingly to me at the time, a row of toilets across from the sinks.
Literally just 5 white, tankless commodes with chrome piping going into the walls behind them. All lined up next to each other about arms length apart. No dividers, no doors.
It was fucking bizarre, and I doubt it's still that way. Students today would not go for that.
I was so weirded out by the bathroom situation at the frat that I would only take a dump in bathrooms on campus for most of my first semester. Then one night, I woke up with a gut ache, and knew I needed to go... NOW.
I bolted up past my three bunkmates, sprinted for the big bathroom, clicked on the light and saw one of my frat brothers was apparently in the same situation as me.
We locked eyes. I said, "Sorry dude."
He said, "It's cool. I just didn't have time to hit the lights... kind of an emergency."
"Me too bro." I replied.
He had taken the last one on the end furthest from the door. He was wearing a t-shirt and his boxers were around his knees. One hand was in his crotch, kind of how do you when you have to point your penis down into the bowl to take a sitting piss, but he gestured with his other hand to the row of commodes next to him. "You're in luck sir, I have some open seats."
I made my way to the one of the other end, made sure the seat was down, turned my back to the bowl, gripped the waistband of my shorts and my tighty-whities and shucked them both down in one fell swoop as I sat. And then 'BRRRRAAAAPPPPPP.' My ass made a sound like someone opening a velcro wallet in a watery echo chamber. I looked over at my frat bother, mortified.
He just gave me that single chin-up nod that guys give each other and said, "Nice one dude."
"Nice one dude," became our catchphrase all through college, and to this day, every now and then, I'll get a Facebook message from Tim. It's always just those same three words.
After that, I was less intimidated by the gang shitters.
I STILL did most of my number-twoing on campus, in a bathroom with proper stalls, but if the need arose, I didn't hesitate to pop a squat in front of someone. Honestly I think sharing that extremely personal time made us closer as Fraternity brothers.
I kind of held on to that specific confidence as Doc Diego and I approached my toilet.
"I'm gonna leave this on if it's OK," he tugged at the gait belt.
"Yeah, sure, no problem." I replied as I used my T-Rex arms to get my thumbs under the waistband of my sweats.
"You got it?" He asked as I groaned in pain at the slightest bit of shoulder action.
"Yeah man... I'm good I think." He kept his eyes up, trying to give me some dignity and privacy.
Once I got them past my hips they just kind of fell down around my ankles and I started to sit down. Reflexively my right arm reached back sending a shooting pain across my back and shoulders. "Ahhhhh, fuck!" I said through gritted teeth.
Doc Diego quickly reached out and grabbed the gait belt, nearly punching me in the gut in the process, "Careful buddy... lemme do some of this for ya. You just sit back, I won't let you fall."
Once I was down he asked again, "You good dude?"
I nodded yes.
"OK, I'm gonna just head back to the living room, I'll leave this door open. When you're ready for phase 2 you just holler."
"Thanks Doc," I replied, realizing I didn't have my trusty poo companion, aka: my iPad, but that was OK. I would have wanted to look at porn anyway. Not exactly appropriate in this situation.
10 minutes later, after a feeble and unsuccessful attempt at trying to wipe my ass, I called out, "OK Doc!"
Xavier walked into the bathroom. His eyes wide. Waving his hand under his nose. "What kind of Pringles WERE those dude? Oh my god!"
I made a face like, `c'mon man' and he laughed.
"Just kidding. It's not bad in here really." Then, taking his voice up an octave and raising his eyebrows, he said, in a singsongy voice, "Did we have a good poopy?"
"Yes," I smirked, "Everything came out just fine."
"Good cause those pain meds can really do a number on your digestive tract. OK, let's get you up and into a hot shower. We'll do it just like before on the recliner, lean into me and if you can, grab the back of my arms." I could feel his hand work its way between the belt and my belly and start to pull. "Uuuuuuuup we go."
It still hurt like a motherfucker.
Doc Diego kept his eyes up as before and instructed me, "Next time you are alone and have to do this, think of it like doing a squat. That's the same kind of form you want to use when sitting and standing. Ass out, chest forward, use whatever parts of your arms you can to balance out in front of you." He demonstrated as he described, and his form was perfect. Pointing to his thick quads he said, "But make your legs to all the work. If you can do that, I think you'll be fine moving forward."
He let go, made his way over to the shower and turned on the water.
"This shower is massive dude! You could party in here."
"Yeah," I said, stepping out of my sweatpants, "I let the designer talk me into this ridiculously huge thing. Not sure why."
"Well I'm jealous, I think my whole master bath could fit in here," he said, running his hand under the spray.
"It's warm enough now for you to get in without getting a turtle, I think."
"A turtle?"
"Yeah," he laughed. "You know when you jump into a lake or the ocean or a cold shower and your dick just goes, `NOPE' and pulls back like a turtle pulling its head into its shell."
"Never heard that term before... but thanks for looking out for my `turtle.'" I nodded down to my penis... he kept his eyes locked on my eyes. Very professional.
He went on, "Lets get that belt off you and then get you out of that jacket and I'll leave you be. Don't worry about shampooing your hair and all that... you should try and keep your sutures dry anyway... just get wet from the chest down."
I started to fumble with the buckle on the gait belt but my T-Rex arms were having no luck, so he reached over and undid it for me. He rolled the belt up and set it on the counter between the sinks, next to my Sonicare and my manscaping trimmer.
My hoodie was zipped up pretty high, too high for my T-Rex arms to reach so he zipped it down. Being a little baggy the zipper ended right at my penis which, now that my jacket was open, was completely exposed. I think I saw him take a glimpse while he disengaged the zipper from its little metal pocket at the bottom. I know I would have. But then he quickly got behind me and helped me get the jacket off my shoulders and down my arms.
I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror above the sink I usually use. It was the first time I'd seen my incision and the tape covering it. I think he realized that I was a little shocked and reassuringly put his hand gently over the tape covering my stitches. The light was hitting his arm hair just right, highlighting some of the mist from the shower still on it as he ran his hand from my neck to my shoulder. Not in a sexy way, just in a `I'm a Doctor, let me check this suture' kinda way.
Doc Diego reassured me, "Don't worry man. I know the woman who did your surgery. She does clean work. You'll have a little scarring here, but nothing bad. I've got some stuff you can put on it that'll help too."
Suddenly, I was very aware that something about this situation was starting to tickle the part of my brain next door to the part that processes pornography.
I was completely naked, Doc Diego was completely clothed and he was NOT going to get naked. Why would he?
My brain remembered a video I watched once. It showed three guys: Two dudes in white button down shirts and ties, slacks, loafers, belts... looking like they were ready to show up at their cubicle to start the day as insurance salesmen or comptrollers or accountants or whatever. A third guy is standing at the foot of a massage table, completely naked. Not tied up or restrained in any way. Just standing there, very fit, and very flaccid, being eyeballed by these two fully clothed dudes.
They start rubbing his hairy chest, lift his arms, and inspect his pits.
Then they crouch down and look hard at his penis, run their fingers through his belly hair and into his pubic bush, and tug on his scrotum.
It was like watching aliens who had never seen a human male before.
The two clothed dudes would occasionally make eye contact with each other and nod approvingly, but not much else, aside from giving the naked guy some instructions now and then.
At one point they have him turn around, bend over, and rest his chest on the massage table while his feet stay on the ground. They run their hands over his very hairy glutes and do more agreeable nodding to each other.
One of them asks the naked guy to pull his asscheeks apart. Naked guy reaches back with both hands and exposes a very hairy trench and anus. The clothed dudes touch and rub his hole and perineum with the pads of their thumbs and fingers, cup his scrotum and pull on his stiffening penis with kind of a `milking' motion.
Every now and then the video would cut to the face of the naked guy making faces like, "What the fuck are they doing?"
Eventually the naked dude ends up on his back on the table, and the clothed dudes masturbate him until he ejaculates.
There's a lot of encouraging banter between the clothed dudes, "That's it. Good job. You're doing great."
They take turns masturbating him. While one does that the other runs his hands all over the naked guy, especially up his inner thigh. Naked dude shoots huge. The semen spurts up his chest and clings to his dark body hair.
Clothed guys seemed very pleased with this turn of events. But they never disrobe. They don't masturbate, there's no oral or anal penetration, it was just... this.
There's a final scene, kind of a behind the scenes moment where all three men are sitting next to each other and joking around after filming. The naked guy is still naked, the clothed dudes are still in their ties and slacks and they're talking about the scene out of character.
"That was awesome!"
"Yeah, It was fun!"
"You guys were great!"
That kind of stuff. And then it fades to black.
I didn't know it at the time, but I've since learned there's a whole kink community for that kind of thing. It's called: Clothed Male Naked Male... or CMNM. I'm not gonna say it's one of my `official' kinks, but I have to admit, I've typed those 4 letters into the NewTumbl search bar more than a few times.
"You ready, bro?"
Doc Diego's voice snapped me back to the present, pulling me out of the memory and back into my bathroom.
Shaking my head clear I said, "Yeah, yeah, sorry... zoned out there for a sec." I knew my penis had responded a little to that memory, it felt thick and heavy, but far from hard.
"No worries, oxycodone will do that to ya sometimes," He reassured me. "I'll be in the living room if you need me. Remember, keep those stitches dry if you can."
The shower was uneventful, with the help of a wash cloth I managed to get soap on most of my body... including my unwiped ass, and the hot water felt amazing.
I got out I and started to dry myself off but it was clear I wasn't going to be able to get to my back or my calves without help. Rather than calling out for Xavier, I held my towel up in front of me, grabbed another dry one and walked down the hall to the living room. Doc Diego was watching House Hunters or whatever I had on when he arrived.
"Oh hey... You good bro?" He jumped up as soon as he saw me.
"Yeah, just can't get my back or my legs." I kicked out my left foot and wiggled my toes.
"Yup, I gotcha." He said taking the dry towel.
"Doesn't that feel so much better?" He asked as he used his palms and spread fingers to run the towel across by back and down to my waist stopping short of my glutes. His hands felt huge on me.
"Ive got a clean set of sweats to put on... may need a little help with that too." I admitted.
"No worries," he replied, I could hear that he had crouched down behind me. "Um, I know we don't know each other that well, and I'll remind you I AM a doctor, but do you want me to get in there and dry the undercarriage?"
It was true, I could not put my arms behind me at all... so making sure my trench was dry was not gonna be something I could do on my own.
"I was just gonna let it air out," I said. Giving him an excuse to move on.
"Nah, let's get you properly dry," he replied. "Nothing I haven't seen, and nowhere I haven't been before."
He put his hand on my back and pushed me to lean forward just slightly. I felt the towel drape over my ass. He used his big hands again to drag the towel around over my hairy glutes. I could feel his fingers working into the dimple where cheek meets leg and then just gently into my crack. He didn't linger in there... there was no `diddling' per se. It seemed totally professional as far as I knew. Still a little awkward but weirdly good.
Then he used his foot to kick my right foot to the side a little.
"Gonna have to spread `em a little for this part." He joked.
"Do you have a side gig as a TSA agent?"
"Ha! No..." he laughed, "...and I hope I'm not being as clumsy as those dudes. I seem to always get pulled aside for a thorough groping and they are fucking brutes."
And with that his towel covered hand found its way to my taint.
"Usin' the whole fist doc?" I parroted a line from `Fletch.'
"Just wanna be sure you don't get swamp rot." Then I felt his hands on my hips and he turned me around.
"Let's get those legs."
The spin caught me by surprise and I somehow lost my grip on the towel I was holding in front of me.
"Oh shit dude... sorry." I apologized realizing my penis and testicles were now directly in his face.
Xavier reassured me, "Whoops! No I'M sorry, lemme get that..."
He reached for the towel I had dropped but I had shifted my feet during the spin and I was now standing on it... I tried to step off so he could grab it but my other foot was still holding it down and in order to lift that one I had to put the other one down and... It was turning into an even more awkward situation, so I just gave up trying to cover my genitals, put both my feet down and said, "Nothing you haven't seen before, right doc?"
He laughed and just quickly rubbed the towel up and down each of my legs to go ahead and get it over with.
He stood up, handed me the towel he had been using and said, "Good to go."
We looked at each other for a second. It was a weird connection. I'm pretty comfortable being naked. I've been naked around a lot of men. Usually in situations where nudity is expected, like in a locker room, that massive gang shower at the ATO house, or in front of a roommate or something. There have been sexual encounters too, but this was a different kind of moment. We were in a much more personal space, mentally and physically. There was a kindness, an honesty, a generosity, a BOND that I hadn't expected. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed. I felt accepted and grateful.
I was keenly aware of how uncommon the situation was, but somehow this felt normal and healthy. Two adult men, not making a huge deal about nudity or even about physical contact. In some extremely private places, at that. I wondered if this kind of connection was special, or if this was how all men acted around each other now-a-days.
Since my divorce I'd really pulled back from society. Outside of work and the gym, I didn't really interact with a ton of people on any kind of regular basis. Had masculinity changed?
"Thanks doc." I said and walked back down the hall to my bedroom.
"You need help with the sweats?" He called out.
"Oh yeah, fuck... do you mind?"
"Nope!" He half hollered and followed my back to the main bedroom.
The clean sweats were hanging in my closet. Yes, I hang sweats. Anything that is a package deal, or a matched set gets hung so they stay together. I pulled a navy blue hoodie and the cutoff sweats that go with it down. Doc Diego had his back to me, I guess to give me some privacy, as I walked from the closet back into the room.
"I think I can do the shorts, but there's no way I'm getting the jacket on alone." I admitted.
"No underwear?" He asked.
"Not while I'm in this condition," I said. "One less thing to worry about."
"Gotcha." He said taking the jacket from me and turning back around.
I have a leather upholstered bench at the end of my bed, so I lifted my right leg up and tried to get the waistband of the shorts under the sole of my foot. But my T-Rex arms just didn't have the leverage to get there.
Doc Diego heard me grunting and said, "You OK?"
"Um, I thought I was, but, yeah, no... I'm not OK. Can you...?"
He cut me short. "Yup." Next thing I know he was once again crouched down in front of me except this time I had one foot up on the bench and one on the floor. And thanks to the hot shower, my scrotum was doing all it could to keep my testicles at the right temperature by lowering them as far from my body as possible.
"There you go man," He said as he slid the short up to about mid calf. Then we repeated the process on the left... and then rather than waiting for me to struggle with it, he just pulled them the rest of the way up. Taking care to hold the waistband out as it passed my penis and dangling scrotum.
Then he helped me put on and zip up the jacket. Gently putting his hands on my shoulders he said, "I think you are good to go sir."
I nodded, thanked him, and offered him a $20 for gas or whatever but he declined.
"No man, that's OK... you are gonna pay me plenty over the next few months."
I laughed sarcastically... but he wasn't wrong.
"Hey, one thing though," he said holding up his index finger, "In the bathroom, I noticed you had one of those trimmers made especially for body hair... And I couldn't help but notice..."
The pause hung in the air for a second, but then his eyes flashed down to my crotch and back.
Suddenly I realized what he was talking about, "Oh... you mean... right, yes... my ex. She hated if my..." Aww fuck it, I just blurted it out, "She hated it if my balls were hairy."
Was I blushing? I think I was blushing.
"Ahhh gotcha." He nodded.
"Yeah, so I got in the habit of trimming down there... not everything, obviously, but the, uh..." I hesitated...
Doc finished my thought, "Scrotum?"
"Yeah... my scrotum. And a little around the base," I added.
"And it doesn't hurt or pinch or anything?"
"No... not this one. I tried to use a regular face razor a few times," I admitted, "But I always ended up nicked or bleeding or whatever... and trust me, you do not wanna nick down there. It's pain in the ass to get it to stop bleeding. Like, so hard to put pressure on it and sometimes it's even just hard to see where the nick is. This thing though... it's just zip, zip, zap. Easy peasy."
He smiled and nodded, "Zip, zip, zap. Sounds good."
I don't know if he ever bought one... but he's given me shit about it ever since.
Just like he was doing today in the exam room.
"OK, that's it... you and your hairy balls are free to go my friend." He turned to wash his hands, "What's on the agenda today?"
I had almost forgotten that today was the day I'd be seeing Sam again for the first time since we learned that he and I have Bateworld in common. Now my heart was in my throat.
"Just back to the job site. I'm flipping a condo downtown. Where are you at again?"
"I'm renting in a high rise on the West Side."
"Well when this is ready to go on the market I'll let you know... it's the penthouse, 3 beds, 4 baths, 12 foot ceilings, it's gonna be a real showstopper." I was proud of this job. It had taken Sam and I a long time to get to this point in our business.
Doc Diego turned to look at me. "I'm just a humble Orthopedist. But I may know a couple of surgeons who might be able to swing that mortgage."
"I bet you do alright," I smiled. "OK doc. Thanks for everything. See you next injury."
He gave me a look. A look that lasted just long enough, and a little too long all at the same time. Then a thumbs up and out the door he went.
I looked at my watch. 11:15. Plenty of time to get down to the job site by noon, and stop to get lunch on the way.
It also gave me plenty of time to obsess about Sam.
My penis and unshaved scrotum began to warm at the thought that maybe Sam and I could bond like Doc Diego and I had that night.
Or maybe, we could just get comfortable in this awkward situation, like my fraternity brother and I did in the ATO bathroom.
No matter what, things were going to get personal and private in our condo--no closed doors, no barriers, and no more secrets.
To be continued...
*Apologies to anyone in the medical field who I may have mischaracterized or maligned. I think Doctor Xavier Diego was acting compassionately by going over and above for his patient here, but I also think he is probably dancing a very unethical line. He may have had ulterior motives, he may not. Would he look back on this interaction with Dave and get turned on? I don't know (yet). I'm also under no delusions that medical professionals these days have the kind of free time to dry patients off in their homes. Y'all are overworked, over scheduled and under appreciated. So I apologize for this characterization of your profession and if you have suggestions on how to make it better please let me know. Please also forgive any actual medical misinformation in this chapter. Doctor Google helped out with some of the specifics, but I filled in a lot of blanks with jargon that may or may not be appropriate or accurate. I'm not a doctor. I just have a thing for clinical sexy talk.