We cleaned up the lube and snuggled into bed as best we could with his casts. I offered him his painkillers, but he declined. He thought he could tough it out. But, he couldn't. Shortly after midnight, he'd awakened me, asking for his meds. "My fingers and my ass hurt," he laughed. I got up and retrieved his pills and some water. He popped them into his mouth and chased them down with the offered glass of water. We slept well until about 5 a.m.
Chapter 3
The sun wasn't even up, but my dick was: up Eric's ass. He seemed determined to take all of my 9-1/2" of dick, and the sooner the better. Lying on his side, he'd backed up on to my manhood and swallowed as much of it as his ass could tolerate. Once again, though, he was unable to get beyond the depth which had frustrated him late yesterday.
"Eric," I whispered into the dark, "these things take time. Not much has changed since you tried last time."
"I still want it!" he said resolutely. "I want it ALL!"
It was well lubed. I had to give him that. Perhaps, I could help him a little bit by using my hands to spread his glutes a little more. But, that didn't seem to help, either.
"Relax, Baby," I sighed. "You're trying too hard."
"Maybe, another pain pill would help me get past this spot."
"No, Eric," I counseled. "That's just plain dangerous. I could tear you up and it would be weeks before you could shit right or get fucked. The pain is there for a reason. You need to know you have limits, despite your desires."
"But, I really want it," he whined quietly.
"And you'll get it, Baby, but you gotta take these kinds of things slowly. Even the best bottom I've ever fucked had to take more than one run at me," I revealed. I held his beautiful ass in both hands, marveling at how hard and round it is. He struggled mightily to impale himself on my thick dick again, but got no farther than before without wincing and experiencing pain that wracked his body. "Let's try something else," I suggested. "You're trying to fuck yourself on my dick. Let me do all the work, you just concentrate on relaxing."
I moved closer into him and straightened out my body to more effectively fuck him. Again, I told him to relax. I kissed his shoulder and whispered into his ear how hot his ass was as it gobbled my dick. With infinite patience, I fucked his beautiful muscled ass in slow, deliberate strokes. When I met resistance, I backed off and nearly pulled out. He groaned with pleasure each time my fat dickhead rattled over his prostate. He couldn't jack his dick because of the casts. I knew if I tried to help him out, he's blast a load, defeating our purpose.
My battering ram was at his deep, internal gate. He wanted to open it, but couldn't seem to find the key or how to tell the pain guard to move aside. I changed the angle several times, thinking that might make a difference. It only confirmed that certain angles were more painful than others. Finding the least painful one, I pressed harder, but not beyond a reasonably low pain threshold. The purpose was not to make this painful for Eric. He'd be even more afraid, anxious, and unable to relax if that happened. Then, we'd never fuck again. That would be a very bad ending.
He rolled onto his stomach, dragging me with him. Magically, my dick slipped deeper! I had no idea what the difference was, but while I was deeper, I might as well go for broke. I held him tightly and pressed my hips down harder. His gorgeous ass yielded and swallowed me completely.
"Fuck, YEAH!" he exulted. "I knew I could do it!"
"We just had to understand how to knock down that last door," I agreed. "Of course, you relaxing more sure helped," I added, flexing my thick, long dick inside him. His ass muscles chewed on my dick, enjoying the thickness and depth.
"Fuck, what a dick!" he moaned. "Horses should be so lucky," he sighed. I grinned into the back of his head. I leaned in and kissed his ear, then extracted about half my dick slowly, before pressing forward again. Once more, his love tunnel resisted, but only briefly. "What a fuckin' monster!" he moaned. "Are you close?"
"You have no idea!" I winced, feeling another wave of dick sucking from his internal muscles. "I'm about to spray a huge load," I grimaced.
"Well, I'm about to cum in the sheets, Steve," he warned. "I wanna feel that black python pound and seed my ass."
I didn't think that would be a good idea. His ass was barely able to accommodate me. There was little point in ruining our triumph by pumping him too hard, like I secretly wanted to. This perfect ass needed to be powerfucked: deep and often; but, not yet.
Once more, I withdrew to the halfway point and pushed forward. Again, his ass resisted, but even less than last time. We'd found the right position and angle to service him. My body shuddered. My swollen dick was so close to the edge. I warned him, but he didn't hear me. His own climax had begun. His ass clamped hard on my tingling dick. There was no hope of holding back now, and no point, either.
"Fuck ME!" Eric bellowed. "Seed ME!" he repeated again and again in a screaming mantra.
"Fuckin' TAKE it!" I yelled, joining his chorus of sexual pleasure. Completely buried in his ass, I ground my dick hard into him. My fuck post tingled and squirted repeatedly, flooding his hole with my thick, baby gravy. His hips rose and fell as he fucked the sheets and his ass on the horsedick hosing his bowels with cum. Despite my earlier promise to myself to be gentle with our new depth, I couldn't keep my hips from pounding his ass furiously. My dick fired again and again, needing to seed! "Fuckin' hot ass," I croaked out.
"Big fuckin' dick!" he whispered, his hips backing up into me as another climax wave crashed over him, making his entire body shudder beneath me. "I could feel you cum inside me!" he said in amazement after another shudder subsided.
I didn't respond. I was too spent, too pleasured out. My hips continued to plunge forward, enjoying the afterglow of a monstrous climax. When my head cleared, I asked him, "I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm sorry that I got so carried away."
He purred instead with a quiet moan. "Hurt me again, then!" he smiled when he turned his head slightly to look into my eyes. "Without a doubt, that's the best fuck I've ever had. I've never cum so hard or been so deeply, thickly filled. What a fuckin' rush!"
"Yeah, damned good, Dawg!" I praised. "I've never barebacked anyone who could take me as deeply as you did. Damn! That felt good!"
I pulled away gently, but Eric backed up with me. "You're not taking that thing out until it falls out," he insisted. "Drain that big snake in my ass. I want all your jizz tonight."
"More like, this morning, Man," I grinned down at him, but pushed back toward the bed, returning my still hard dick to the original depth. Something that always amazed my bed partners was how long my dick stayed hard after I fucked them and shot a load. It'd be a good 10 minutes before it returned to normal. Meanwhile, they could continue to get fucked until they shot their load (unless they already had). Sensitivity also wasn't much of an issue, either. I could fuck after I climaxed for another few minutes before sensitivity caught up with me. Also, I recovered pretty fast. Generally, it was less than 15 minutes before I was ready to mount and seed again. But, I had to have a good stimulus to do that. However, fuckin' a hot ass again would do that easily.
I kissed his ears and neck as my oversized dick dribbled more cum into him. His ass muscles occasionally squeezed me, but he didn't want to eject me from his well-sprayed ass tunnel. Eventually, though, my stiffness disappeared and I slipped out. I rolled off of him, knowing that even my skinny body would be getting heavy.
We slept for another hour before Eric awakened me for more pain pills. I slid out of bed and got them for him, along with a glass of orange juice to wash them down.
"The pain any better?" I asked.
"More dull than sharp now," he answered. "I still need them, but maybe not so much?"
"Take them if you need them," I instructed. "Don't be a martyr to your pain. You don't have to be manly and tough it out. I promise you won't get addicted on the low dose I'm giving you. Besides, you're going longer between meds already."
"Thanks, Doc," he grinned as he snuggled in next to me as best he could with two casts. Once more, the pain pills did their magic and he drifted off to sleep.
But, I couldn't sleep. I still had doctor/patient issues to resolve. The worst part was trying to figure out a way to keep him near me, but not make it look like we were fucking like animals all the time. He had to live in this town. I could and would leave this backwater the minute my contract with the program was up in less than two more years. However, his reputation could be ruined several times over by then. I had to think of some way to short circuit that.
First thing I had to do was get his bed over here today. The second bedroom had only my music collection and books in it. There was no furniture, other than bookcases. He could hang his clothes in the closet in there. I could put his foldables in bins and boxes if I had to. Okay, so that took care of the camouflage of how we slept. But, how would I stifle the wagging tongues about living together? For the first 6 to 8 weeks, I'd be his concerned doctor. But, after that, what? Somehow, I had to deflect the obvious conclusion that would come from all the busybodies in town; and there were a lot of those. What else did these people have to do besides gossip?
Finding no inspiration, I rolled out of bed, took a shower and started breakfast. By the time it was ready, Eric had joined me in the tiny kitchen. "We need to change the sheets," he said matter-of-factly. "I really sprayed them."
"I'm sure you did. And you smell like an oversexed billy goat!" I laughed. "Right after breakfast, you're goin' into the shower." If I'd had my head screwed on right, I'd have postponed my own shower. But, I hadn't. So, I'd get another one soon. And I'd need one more after I exercised at our small gym. My skin would be so dry and ashy that anyone seeing me would think I was a tall, skinny, grey alien.
After breakfast, but before I could get him into the shower, the phone rang. It was Eric's boss. I handed the phone to him, looking concerned. Now, how did he know where Eric was staying? I didn't have to ask. Our part-time nurse had probably blabbed it all over town. Or, it could have been my landlady. She always was up on everything, having nothing better to do than spy on folks day and night. She'd probably seen me bring Eric home. Eric's boss lived in town, so his stay-at-home wife probably got the dirt about us directly from the old nag's mouth. I was going to have to deal with our "arrangement" sooner that I'd thought. I'd never before experienced the power of the community grapevine.
"Excellent," Eric smiled. "Thanks, Boss," and hung up. "Worker's Comp is covering everything from hospital, to doctor fees and rehab, to lost wage," he crowed. I smiled wanly. He looked at me and frowned. "Uh, what's up, Doc?"
I smiled at his silly reference to Bugs Bunny. "The cat's out of the bag, Eric. The whole town must know that we're living together. And it's no secret that I'm a fag, so they're gonna conclude that you're one, too."
"So?"
"So, you have to live here," I blustered. "This is your future. You have to face up to their prejudices and bigotry. Small towns are very conservative. Everyone knows everyone else's business. I should have known that and taken steps," I sighed.
"I don't plan on staying in this throwback to the 30s. I want out of here as much as you do, Steve. I'm getting a nest egg together to move away and get established in a bigger city that has housing construction going on all the time. I love doin' that stuff!"
"And, meanwhile?"
"I don't give a fuck what they think!"
"You think you'll keep your job when they put it all together and put some pressure on your boss to fire your gorgeous ass because you're a fuckin' fag?"
Eric blinked as the ugly realization hit home. "I'm the best carpenter he has," he stammered.
"And that means exactly nothin' when your friendly, neighborhood bigots browbeat him into firing you, Eric. He has to live here and get their business. You can't believe he won't figure that out quickly enough. You aren't worth his business!"
"Shit! I'm fucked!" he moaned.
"Welcome to the real world, Baby," I sighed, pulling his naked body into mine. "We'll think of something."
I got him into the shower with bagged arms, and cleaned up and toweled off. He wanted me to fuck him again in there, but I declined, too worried about what the future held. I got him dressed, and grabbed the sheets off the bed along with some clothes that should be laundered, too. The one washing machine and one dryer that serviced the apartment were available. Coins weren't necessary. That was one good thing about living here, perhaps the only one. I loaded up the washer with the sheets, added soap, and started it up.
To call where I lived an apartment is not entirely accurate. It's more of a mother-in-law suite. My landlady's mother had lived here until she passed away. Shortly after that, her husband died as well. So, she's been in this big, old house alone for nearly 20 years. I'm sure the extra income for her is welcome. The doctor in charge of the Health Department was the one who turned me on to the vacancy. She loved the idea of a doctor being in the house, but I'm not so sure she liked having a man of color who was also a "homosekshul". However, I paid my rent on time and she was not overtly nosy. I knew she had a key to my place, but I never saw any evidence that she had been in there after I'd moved in.
"We could bring my bed over and put it in that second bedroom," Eric suggested. "That might deflect some of the rumors for a while."
"I'd thought of that early this morning," I agreed. "Yes, we need to do that. It's just a little twin bed, right?" He nodded. "I should be able to wrestle that into your pick-up bed and get it back to the apartment. You should go with me and grab some additional clothes and other things you might need later."
It wasn't that difficult. Despite his casts, Eric was able to balance the mattress and box springs to help me get it into his pick-up bed. He selected some additional clothes and a couple of books. He stopped by his landlord's and told him that he'd be living with me until the casts came off. Eric's apartment was the top floor of the man's house. Rent would still be paid, which was a relief to his landlord. "As you can see, there's little I can do for myself with two casts," Eric added in passing. "Dr. Carson has been good enough to help out. No one else around here seems to care," he added bitterly.
When we got back to the apartment, I asked him what that nasty little drama was all about. "I know these people. They'll be all over us, trying to be helpful after what I said to him. You just watch."
I'd set up his twin bed and made it. He was hanging up his clothes when there was a knock at the door. It was my landlady, with a plate of warm, chocolate chip cookies. Evidently word spreads VERY fast in this wide spot in the road called a town. "This isn't much," she apologized, "but, I'll do better with dinner. I didn't know until this morning how busted up Eric was. This is very kind of you, Dr. Carson to take him in like this."
"There aren't any home health services around," I smiled back at her. "And I wouldn't presume to ask anyone else to be his 24-hour nurse."
"Surely, someone could do it," she said, but not volunteering herself.
"I don't know who it could be. After all, you'd have to do everything for him, including his, uh, bathroom duties," I smirked, trying not to be too clinical, but still getting the point across.
"Oh, well, uh, I see," she stammered. It was all I could do not to laugh right in her face. "Well, let me know if there's anything I can do to help," she added as she turned and flounced away. "And I'll want that plate back, please," she tossed over her shoulder.
"What an old battleaxe!" I laughed when I'd closed the door behind her.
"She's the town gossip," Eric revealed (as if I hadn't already concluded that). "Nothing gets past her. But, it looks like dinner will be on her. I'll try to keep it warm for you."
"Don't bother. By the time I get home, it'll be 11 p.m. and I don't eat that late," I said.
"I'll bring it by the clinic and we can eat together," he suggested. "What's a good time?"
"And just how are you going to carry dinner down there with both arms in casts and slings?" I smiled back at him. He'd been flapping his casts around so much that I finally had to force him to wear slings on both arms to keep them immobile and hopefully heal faster. "Besides, the food will be cold by the time you walked two blocks."
"There's a microwave in the Health Department. I'll heat it up in there," he ventured.
"But, how are you going to carry it there?"
"I'll call you when she brings it over and you'll come get it. You can be gone a couple of minutes, can't you?"
"No, I have to be able to answer the phone," I told him.
"Well, then, uh, I'll call you and come down to the clinic. You can run back to the apartment and get the food and I'll answer the phone if it rings while you're gone."
"And if there is a medical emergency? How are you going to answer that?"
"Uh^Å," he stammered.
"Heart attacks and accidents can't wait, Eric," I insisted. He sighed as did I. I appreciated his helpful attitude, but with two broken hand and big casts on his arm, there was little he could do. He needed some conveyance that allowed him to carry something. He needed a shopping cart, a trolley, or a wagon of some kind. Yeah, that old Red Flyer wagon in the basement would work. No one's used it for the past 30 years, but it probably would do just fine. I'd ask the old girl if I could borrow it. I'd squirt a little oil on the wheels and axles and have it operational in no time. Now, how would he pull it with both arms in casts?
Before I could suggest my brilliant scheme, there was another knock on the door. I didn't know who it was, but Eric did. He introduced me to the local Baptist minister's wife. Although I'd been in town a little better than a year, I'd never met the only religious figure in town. He either had issues with my color or the fact that I was one of "them godless homosekshuls" he ranted about frequently from the pulpit. I'd probably have punched his lights out if he'd darkened my doorstep. But, she seemed to be a good Christian woman with a kind soul. She brought us a tuna casserole.
"It's been sitting in my freezer and I thought you boys could use it," she smiled warmly. "So very sad about Eric's accident," she clucked. "And you're a good man to help him out, Dr. Carson." I nodded cordially and thanked her. She glanced about the apartment, seeing that there were two bedrooms and two beds. That tidbit would be all over town within the next hour.
When she left, I turned to Eric. "It seems you were right about the grapevine around here. It certainly works well."
"And did you see how she checked out the sleeping arrangements?" Eric laughed. "It looks to me like we've dodged that bullet for a while."
"Perhaps," I mused. "I was thinking about how to get dinner to the clinic. I thought about rigging up that Red Flyer in Mrs. Duncan's basement for you to drag over to the clinic, but I couldn't think of a way to get you to pull it with your arms in slings. So, I had another thought. Considering that we have a bounty of food from our well-meaning, yet bigoted neighbors, I could take the food over to the clinic when I went in at three and you just come over at dinnertime and warm it up. We'll eat together."
"I knew you'd have an answer," Eric beamed. "You're smarter than I am and most of the hicks in this town, too."
"Maybe," I said. "But, let's not let this small victory lull us into complacency. We both know they're watching us to see if I recruit you into being gay."
"A very willing recruit, may I say," Eric smiled and kissed me on the cheeks from his tiptoes. "You know about Mrs. McIntire's husband, the pastor of the local church?"
I nodded. "The man hasn't said two words to me in the last year and a half I've been here. I used to think he's afraid I'll out him," I laughed.
"You think he's one?"
"Nah, not any more. He's just hateful."
"He had nearly everyone in town going to his church when he was more of a generic Christian. But, when you moved into town, he was all hellfire and brimstone, always raving on about some damned sinner or another. He turned off a lot of people who quit going to his church. He just couldn't get over the fact that an openly gay man was living in town, even if he was a doctor. But, his wife is trying to mend fences as best she can. She keeps trying to soften his image by telling folks he means to rant and rave about the sin, not the sinner. But, no one's buying it. He's very clear in his sermons."
"Yeah, a bona-fide asshole!"
"There's hope though. Some of the townsfolk have petitioned the Baptist church to send them a new man who isn't so judgmental. I know they had someone come to hear him preach a couple of Sundays ago. He got a real earful. Good Pastor McIntire was in full feather," Eric giggled.
"It depends on which Baptist headquarters they're appealing to. If it's the Southern Baptist Conference, I doubt there will be any change."
"Folks aren't giving money to support him, so that may speak louder than their tight ass doctrine," Eric said hopefully.
"I'm not holding my breath."
But, Eric was right. Within a month, Mr. McIntire was replaced and a new, younger man was sent in. The church was full again. Before he left, some of the ladies had a farewell tea for him. Nearly no one showed up. I couldn't have been happier.
Taking dinner to the office worked. Eric joined me every night. Sometimes, he'd have wine with dinner. I never did though. I was on duty. The helpful housewives of our much maligned town were encouraged by the new pastor to be more charitable to those less fortunate than themselves. Consequently, we had dinner on them at least four nights a week. On weekends, I always cooked and we had wine with dinner (even though I was on call). However, I never had more than one glass.
To keep Eric occupied, I suggested that he come down to the gym and help the 92-year old man (Mr. Forsythe) I'd treated (with conversation) set up the senior center. The old guy loved the company and Eric learned more about our community, most of it scandalous. "My grandson told me something that I found very true," Mr. Forsythe said on the first day they talked together in the old guy's house. "Women gossip, men exchange data," he cackled. I told Eric that I thought Mr. Forsythe's grandson sounded like a gay man!
From that point on, the old man spilled all the beans. "Mrs. Duncan (my landlady) is not a widow. Her husband was a long-distance trucker who abandoned her after her mother passed on. He just didn't come back from one of his trips. He sent her a letter and divorce papers the day after he'd left," he reported. "She told everyone he'd been killed in a traffic accident, but he'd called a drinking buddy of his to tell him that he left the old biddy because he couldn't take her cantankerous nature any more."
He also let the cat out of the bag that our former pastor, Mr. McIntire, had been having internet gambling problems. His long-suffering wife stuck with him though. There was also a rumor that our County Health Department doctor was having an affair with some young thing in the next town west. Our esteemed doctor did think of himself pretty highly, so he probably thought he could get away with it. The more Eric repeated what Mr. Forsythe had told him, the more I thought of that old TV show "Peyton Place".
After our fourth week together, I was able to shorten his cast on one arm and free up two fingers on both hands. When I took the casts off, I bathed his hands and arms in alcohol to clean them after being encased in plaster for so long. The foul smell can be overwhelming, but I knew it could have been much worse. With the new casts on, he was able to do more for himself, but not a lot more.
At the end of two more weeks, the casts came off and I made him wear a soft cast with splints on each arm. He did much better with those. Again, I did my best to keep him in arm slings, but I knew they came off the minute my back was turned. The physical therapist began working with him beginning with the seventh week. Strength was returning to his hands and arms. He was bulking up again by conscientiously hitting the gym for two hours a day, five days a week. Eric worked out with me for part of it, trying to time it so that he'd finish when I did. We loved our times together in our shower at home.
Yes, we did fuck like rabbits every day. Before the first week was over, I'd been drilled and filled by his scimitar-shaped dick. His cum sprayed hotly up my ass, flooding me in a manner that had never happened before. Bottoming for him was better than any time in my randy past. But, it was his desire to be bottom most of the time. I was more than happy to fuck his bubble butt and seed it. I'm sure we tried every position that Man has ever thought of. It may have been clumsy with his casts on, but we managed to swap cum every time.
But, now we were coming to the end of the subterfuge. Caring for a patient was one thing. Living with him afterwards would be another.
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