Chapter 2

He pats my foot, “You’re overreacting. You’re fine.”

He’s still being kind.

He slides over and grabs my right foot. I jump and elevate six inches off the bed before crashing back down. Paul laughs again. “Right. Sorry. This foot hasn’t been touched yet. I guess it hasn’t had a chance to desensitize.”

He’s grinning. Maybe kind Paul has a slightly devilish streak in him. He totally just tickled me on purpose while pretending it was an accident. My other sock slides off, like a snake shedding its skin. Thoughts of foot odor and inadvertent tickles vacate my brain as his magic thumbs work their long journey up the length of my size eleven arch. Paul knows his stuff. He’s much better than last year’s guy. And not just because he’s ridiculously cute.

When he finishes my feet, he works his way up my shins and my thighs. I force myself to think unpleasant thoughts as he approaches homebase. Once he runs out of thigh, his fingertips graze my scrotum, causing me to gasp and flinch. He apologizes again. The towel remains in place as he moves up to my pecs. He moves my arms above my head and has full access to my whole upper torso.

He looks down at my body and says, “Did you know that 75% of all belly buttons are innies?”

I feel another twitch in my dick. That seems to happen every time Paul assesses me and comments. I ask, “Did you learn that reading Grey’s Anatomy?”

He laughs, “I haven’t gotten to that chapter yet. Just unofficial observations from what I’ve seen making the rounds. I’m sure that as a lifeguard all summer, you saw your share of belly buttons winking at you. What do you think?”

I figured he’d laugh that off, but surprisingly he obliges, lifting his untucked Polo shirt. The sight of his concave innie in a vertical oval causes two more twitches under my towel. I want to reach out and touch him, but I restrain myself. “To steal your line from earlier, just another face in the crowd.”

He chuckles and drops his shirt before applying another squeeze of oil to his hands. He starts at my pecs and slowly works his way down to my abdomen. I try not to show that this is another ticklish spot, but I think I fail. He works my lower belly from side to side and I quiver uncontrollably. The bulge under my towel is much more pronounced than when I first turned over, but Paul politely ignores the emerging elephant in the room.

He says, “We’re approaching the finish line. I have a few more questions before the final physical examination.”

I gulp and my penis bumps up a notch firmer.

“Are you sexually active?”

My cheeks burn red, which surprises me as I thought that most of my blood was rushing to another part of my body. “No,” I reply.

He makes a note on my chart. “If that were to change, are you prepared to be safe? It’s a different world out there. A scary world. It’s not the 70’s anymore.”

I think of the unopened box of condoms in my dresser drawer that my dad gave me on my eighteenth birthday. “Paul, I don’t remember these questions last year.”

“We’re learning more every day about this new cancer. How it spreads. We in the school’s medical office take awareness and precautions seriously. If you ever run out of condoms, we have some available on site. Safety is nothing to be embarrassed about.” He glances at the towel, then back at my eyes, “We’re in stock for all sizes.”

I continue to grow beneath my veil. “Yes, I understand. Safety first.” What I don’t tell him is that I can’t imagine needing a single condom before I graduate and the whole box of them expires.

He goes back to his form, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

That pushed me to almost fully erect, “What does that–“

“Mike, we’re not posting test results outside of the office door. This is strictly for your school medical file.”

I sigh, “Yes, I’m a virgin.”

“But you masturbate?”

That did it. I am now officially at full mast. The towel slides up my hips as my manhood stands proud underneath.

“Mike, it’s time for me to finish the exam and the massage. I am going to remove the towel now.”

He pulls away the towel and I feel the cool air of the room hit the wet, glistening precum coating my head. I close my eyes and pretend that Paul is a wrinkly old lady. It doesn’t work. I imagine his grey eyes and cute face as clearly as if my eyes were still open. And his toned arms and strong hands…

He says, “Well, everything appears to be in good working order.”

My eyes are still closed but I can hear the huge grin in his voice. And I didn’t think it was possible, but I just got harder.

I feel something strange press into my skin at the base of my erection and run up the length of my shaft. I open my eyes and find that I’m being measured. What the fuck?

Paul says, “Seven and a half inches. When you find that someone special, they’ll be very lucky.”

This time I don’t have the spare blood for a blush.

Paul is standing over me and I can’t help but notice that the soft fabric of his pants is revealing quite the bulge of his own. He makes a final note in my chart and re-oils his hands. I gasp as he takes hold of my scrotum and gently fondles each testicle. Next, he grasps my steel rod and I grab onto the bars of my headboard. He uses both hands and slides up and down my length. I immediately see skyrockets. Paul senses I’m already close. He releases me.

“Mike, I want you to fight against it. Hold out as long as you can.”

He takes the towel and spreads it over my stomach and chest.

He once again takes hold of my penis. “Not everyone is a two-handed job. You sure are.”

He winks at me and how the hell does he expect me to not blow my load just from that? He knows I’m a virgin. He knows I’m locked and loaded. He can see how horny I am.

He begins a slow stroke and my hands grip the headboard harder. As he reaches the top of each stroke, he drags his fingers across the glans and I shudder and shake. He stops the stroking and changes to a dual thumb massage that runs up and down the underside of my shaft. I can’t believe I’m not blowing my load yet, but what feels like holding out for five minutes is probably more like thirty seconds. Then he grabs my shaft with both hands again. He twists several times, each hand in opposite directions, and the room starts to spin. Then he runs his thumb in clockwise circles just below the mushroom cap and my whole body jolts. I am about to disappoint Paul because I can no longer hold out. His last move triggered my pending explosion. There’s no stopping it now. No going back.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Or to judge me. And to my extreme delight, he never stops those thumb circles. My head pushes into my pillow, my hands squeeze the bars, my toes curl and my whole body racks as I rocket ten ropes of cum onto the carefully placed towel. My one victory was that I manage not to scream.

He keeps the circles going until my convulsions cease. Paul carefully folds the dirty towel and puts it in the corner. As I try to catch my breath he says, “Hopefully today is laundry day.” He smiles and I snort.

He makes one more note on my chart, “You, Mike, are an extremely healthy twenty year old young man. There are not many guys like you around.” He gives me a knowing smile. “If you ever need any medical advice or treatment, call or visit the medical office and ask for Paul.” He almost whispers, “I am available for dorm calls.”

He checks his watch, “Oh! It’s almost noon! I have to get to the other side of campus. Jason is waiting.”

He snaps his briefcase shut and disappears out the door.

My breathing has finally normalized. I was not expecting the first sexual experience of my life to happen this morning. I sit up and run my hands through my hair. Wow! I gather my strewn about sweats and socks, along with the abused towel and shove it all in my laundry basket. I guess I have a load to do, but I need that overdue shower first. I slip back into my robe and grab my toiletry caddy, intending to head to the showers, but I’m stopped by another knock on my door. Did Paul forget something?

I swing the door open and there stands the doctor assistant guy from last year. Gary, he says his name is. I look at him with a confused expression, but he pushes past me into my room. He says, “I’m glad you’re already in your robe. Noon has snuck up on me and we have a lot to do in just two hours.”

Today, 40 years later:

My grandson Max chokes on his lemonade when I ask him, “Are you still a virgin?”

The question alone is bad enough, but considering that his parents are on one side of him and his new boyfriend, Javier, is on his other side, maybe my timing could have been better. The kid is turning fifty shades of crimson as we all laugh.

Everyone is at my house today for Max’s twentieth birthday. He and Javier are about to go off and start their third year of college. Looking at the two of them, it just brings me back forty years. I smile.

“Max,” I say, “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that question. You can tell me later. Privately.”

He winks at me as his cheeks go from red to pink. I used to blush a lot at his age. My son is just smiling at me. Vince. Max’s dad. My husband and I adopted Vince when he was ten years old. I was his fourth grade teacher and he was floundering in the foster care system. It took a year to work through the process, but it all came together in the end. That’s why, at the young age of sixty, I have a forty-five year old son and a twenty year old grandson. Vince is happily married to Gina, Max’s mom, sitting on his left, and Max seems happy with his new beau, Javi. Life is pretty perfect these days.

I tell the four of them, “I only ask because I had just turned twenty myself when I had my first sexual experience.” All four of them groan.

Vince says, “Dad, we don’t want to scare off Javier. Maybe save some crazy for their next visit.”

We all laugh. Me too. But I’ve decided that I’m telling this story and no one’s gonna stop me. So, without names, I tell the four of them about the day of my preseason physical all those years ago. Subtlety is not my strong suit, but I attempt to give them a PG-13 version of events leaving some things unsaid, though they seem to understand the implication. Of course they do. I was never good at playing it coy.

My story has made Max forget that I embarrassed him earlier. He asks me, “Grandpa Mike, so the second guy, he was the real guy, right? Your appointment really was at noon?”

“So what was the deal with that first guy? Was it a mistake? A setup? A prank? Was he even with the doctor’s office?”

I open my mouth to reply, but just then, my husband enters the room with a tray full of appetizers. He had been cooking all afternoon.

Vince says to his other dad, “You missed quite the story here.”

My husband tells his son, daughter-in-law, grandson, and grandson’s new boyfriend, “How can I miss it when I starred in it?”

Vince and Gina’s eyes almost pop out their heads.

Max is hanging onto Javi’s shoulder as they both howl in laughter, “Grandpa Paul, you mean you were the fake doctor’s assistant?”

Paul huffs, “Nothing fake about it. I was one of the assistants, but your grandpa Mike wasn’t on my list of patients. I’d seen him around campus the previous year and I just kind of felt a nice vibe or whatever coming off him.”

Paul smiles at me and Max asks, “So, what? You saw his name and dorm room on a list, knocked on his door and pretended there was a scheduling mix up?”

“If I hadn’t, none of us would be here together today.” Paul shrugs, “I just squeezed him into my busy schedule. He was as cute then as he is now.” I look up, Paul bends down and we kiss.

Vince groans and Paul musses his hair, like he’s still ten years old.

“I’ll never understand the 80’s,” Max chortles.

Paul kisses Max’s head, “Would you rather Grandpa Mike tells you our embarrassing stories or goes back to asking you embarrassing questions? If you paid attention to the story, you know that I’m good at asking probing questions too.”

Max’s cheeks flush again. He and Javi really do take me back to 1983. Max puts his arm around his boyfriend, Vince puts his arm around Gina and I pull Paul into a hug. Life really is good.