Chapter 2

I give him a few up and down strokes and he actually whimpers. If I have to do this, I might as well take some time and enjoy it. I still think he’s a good nine inches. I introduce my other hand and I run my thumbs side by side from the underside at the base and up his length. When I make it up to the sensitive spot under the glans, he says, “Doc! You have magic fingers!”

I run my thumbs down, then back up again. His precum is mixing in with the massage oil. I give him a squeeze before switching tack. I cup my hands together and envelop him like a pig in a blanket. I slide my hands up and down and apply dragging pressure with my eight fingertips as I go. I’m not sure if Joey is in heaven or in hell, but this is definitely having an effect. I think he’s fighting to stay in the game.

I slow things down again. Using my thumb, I play with his slit and make circles around the mushroom cap. Just as this starts to drive him crazy, I lower the circles to his steel rod and he thanks me by blowing out his breath in relief. Then, I grasp his shaft and twist as I slide my hand up his pole.

He whimpers, but it’s a whimper of ecstasy.

My second hand joins in on the fun. Now I am twisting in opposing directions – he is long enough that I can do this with length to spare – and his eyes roll back into his head. I have given thousands of massages over the last four years, but I have never touched a penis that wasn’t my own before right now. I think I might have some skills though based solely on how Joey seems like he’s about to lose his mind. And his load.

I give him a few more strokes up and down then I change things up again. It’s time to see just how long he can survive my attack. I cup the topside of his shaft in my left hand while I aggressively rub him up on the underside with my right. I notice his toes spread apart and he bites down on his hand. I rub in circular motions and glide up and down his significant length. At the top, I rub my palm back and forth across his head. He lets out a small scream as I polish him for a full minute, then I give him a break and go back down his shaft with a deep tissue massage. I put that program on repeat.

After two more minutes he says, “Doc? Keep doing that and you’re gonna make me cum.”

I say nothing. I just smile and keep on going. The relentless combination of the shaft massage and the head polishing is more than he can handle. I didn’t need his verbal warning; I could already tell he was getting close. As my hands keep on doing what they’re doing, I make a point to appreciate the moment. Here lies the star of the baseball team (and one of the cutest guys in the entirety of the student body). He is completely naked and at my mercy. On the field, he is a combination of a prowling animal, grace and art in motion. He is a defensive phenom. A five-tool player. Adored by all. And at this moment in time, completely at my mercy. I am making this supreme athlete gasp and shake and rattle and thrash because the time has come. There is no turning back.

I lower both hands to that pulsing shaft and pump. His first shot lands on his sternum, warm, pearly white and stringy. He shoots six more times, each traveling a shorter distance than the last. The final ejection pools in his concave navel. His face is crimson red, sweat beads on his forehead and he fights to catch his breath. But it is a fight because I have not released him.

I change from pumps back to a massage, but every few seconds, my palm rubs against his head. This makes his arms and legs flail uncontrollably. I am having more fun than should be allowed at anyone’s work. His post-orgasm sensitivity has become my entertainment. But he is not restrained in any way so he is not exactly powerless to stop me, so I ease off the head and go back to a kind and gentle massage. He moans in delight for the next fifteen minutes until his spent, drained cock finally tires and deflates.

I wet a towel and do my best to clean the spunk off of our team’s star player. When he has the strength, he sits up on the table and he has the biggest grin on his face. “Doc, you really came through for me.”

I am about to say it was my pleasure, but based on his physical response, that would be inaccurate.

Joey’s eyes slowly travel down my body and land where my bulge has clearly not dissipated. Those eyes roll back up to mine and he smiles.

He hops off the table and pats it with his hand, “Doc, please have a seat.”

It feels more like a command than a request, so I sit. He pushes me on my back with a hand on my chest. My knees are bent and my feet dangle off the end of the table. Joey pushes my shirt up to my armpits. He has an eight-pack. I have a zero pack. But, I am thin and smooth. Joey grins, “Nice!”

He swipes a finger across my lower belly, above my waistband and I quiver and giggle, “Hey!”

He giggles back, “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

His hands grip at my waist band and I sit back up. “Um, what’s happening?”

I start to get off the table, “No. That’s not… No.”

His hand is back on my chest, stopping me. “That’s not your call to make. I heard coach tell you that your job is to do whatever the guys want.”

“But he didn’t mean–“

“This is what I want. I want to give you some relief.”

I am still achingly hard down there. And it’s not like I don’t want him to do whatever he has in mind. He pushes me back down again and I acquiesce. Joey is at least three times stronger than me, so why bother fighting.

He grapples at my waistband and my sweatpants and underwear are both suddenly around my ankles. My erection stands free, breathing the cool air of the room. Joey’s grin widens. Why? Why is he smiling? My six inches pale in comparison to his nine. Is he smiling because he thinks it’s funny? My face flushes.

He grips my inferior (but rock-hard) manhood and my whole body racks from the alarming sensation. He giggles again. “Doc, I do not have magic massage hands like you–“

I cut him off and try to sit up again, “It’s okay. I know I’m smaller–“

He cuts me off right back and pushes me down yet again. “Good! I’m glad. First of all, it’s perfect on your frame. Second of all, if you were any bigger, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

Suddenly, I’m in his mouth. All of me. His lips surround my base. I am feeling shock and ecstasy all at once. Everything is warm, wet and wild. His hands grip my hips as his mouth grips my cock. Suction intensifies and his tongue begins a slithering rub up and down the underside of my length. My mouth gapes open and I have to force myself to breathe.

I’ve been aroused and erect for an hour at this point. The way he’s going at me, I have a minute tops before I blow my load. Just then, he changes tack. He slides slowly up and then back down again while twisting his head to left and to the right. His moves are slow, deliberate and all too much. He maintains the suction as his mouth journeys up and down and side to side.

My instinct is to entangle my fingers in his hair and guide him, but he needs no guidance. This couldn’t be better. Instead, I hold on to the sides of the table and prepare for the launch sequence. This pattern of repetition can only be described as relentless rapture. My climax is imminent. I have crossed the point of no return. He continues his routine as I explode ropes of hot cum down his throat. My body shakes, the table shakes, the whole room shakes…

Once my surges subside, he takes me in, down to my base again and just sucks until every drop has dripped. When he finally releases me, my lifeless, spent cock flops against my stomach like a wet noodle. My cheeks are flushed and my heart is racing.

As Joey leans back, he lifts my left leg and examines my high-top sneaker more closely. “These really are cool. I’ve never had a pair of DCs before. Are they comfortable?”

It takes a minute before I can speak, so I just nod. I wear them loosely tied and he bends back the tongue, “Hey! I’m a ten too!”

“Go ahead and borrow them. I have a pair of street shoes in my locker.”

He grins and slips both shoes off my feet. I sit up and look at the cutest boy on campus. He has loosely cinched his towel low around his waist and his bare feet are now in my high-tops. It is a sight to behold. A sight that already has my exhausted dick waking up.

He walks to the door, “I’ll be texting you to schedule another appointment for tomorrow.”

Wait a minute. Joey limped in here, but now he’s walking just fine. I clear my throat, “What happened to your strained hamstring?”

He winks at me, “Doc, you’re that good. You healed me!” He winks.

Then crosses the room back over to me. I stand and pull up my sweatpants. He looks me right in the eyes, “The truth? I didn’t strain anything. And I didn’t have a girlfriend. No one dumped me. But I just met a cute nice guy who let me borrow his cool shoes. We’ll see where it goes.” He winks again and I blush again. And he leaves.

Thirty minutes later, Manny the second baseman walks into the training room wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He tells me that he strained his oblique during the game today and he needs me to work my magic. He lies down on his back. He is all smooth, hairless olive toned skin from head to toe. I begin to massage his obliques on his sides below the ribs and he directs me to go lower.

He takes my wrist and moves my hand to his lower abdomen. His very lower abdomen.

I say, “That’s not your oblique. That’s your rectus abdominis.”

He shrugs, “You’re the expert.”

I sigh and begin to massage just above the towel. The towel begins to pull out of my way as his penis beneath becomes erect. Great.

“You’ve got magic hands, Doc.”

So I’ve been told. Manny lets out a low moan of pleasure.

After a few more minutes, he’s at full mast. He says, “Doc, do you think you can lend me a hand? My girlfriend broke up with me last week and I could use some… Help. It’s affecting my game on the field.”

I shake my head. Of course it is. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I sneak a peek. It’s a text from Joey:

I know it’s your job to do whatever the guys ask you to do to them. That’s fine. But DO NOT let them touch you! I’m serious! You belong only to me. I’ll make it worth your while.

I smile and re-pocket my phone.

Manny says, “So, what do you say, Doc?”

I guess I have no choice. I can’t have the players telling the Coach that the Athletic Trainer won’t give them what they need. The towel must go. I pull back the veil and Manny’s proud eight inches winks at me with a glistening pool of precum at the tip. Jesus Christ! Are all of the players packing their own onboard baseball bats? A guy could get an inferiority complex around here. Joey is definitely the cutest guy on campus, but honestly, Manny is a close second. He has no tan lines as I gawk at his naked body. His lovely olive skin is the same beautiful tone even in his most private places.

I grab the base of his shaft with one hand and he gasps. I grip his upper half in my other hand and he muffles a scream of delight.

I grin down at him. I really have the best job.