Date: Sun, 28 Mar 2004 18:49:46 -0800 (PST)
From: taarob <taarob@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Good Doctor 9

This is a work of fiction.  I love getting email so if you'd
like to contact me you can at taarob@yahoo.com or if you'd
like to see some of the other things that I've written you
can go to my web site at http://www.mygaystories.com .


                    The Good Doctor 9


I was lying on my back, my legs were pushed up and rested on
the top of Pete's thighs.  What had looked impossible to me
ten minutes ago, like it had many times before, was now a
reality.

He leaned forward and kissed me, his hips were pumping
slowly back and forth causing his swollen cock to rub
against my, happier than shit, prostate.

Pete smiles and talks while were fucking.  I never, ever
thought that that would make a difference in......well,
anything but it does.

He runs his fingers through my hair and then kisses my
forehead.  "You doin okay?"

I reach out and touch his hairy chest.  "Ohhhhhh yeah!"
He's slowly stroking my cock with his other hand.

He smiles at me and speaks softly.  "You look good this
way."  He's holding me at mid-boil.  Part of me needs to get
off like NOW and the rest of me is loving this exquisite
torture.

I smile back at him.  "Maybe we could do a picture of this
for like our Christmas cards."

He laughs.  "That would improve the cardiac referral end of
things."

I can't help but wonder what my mom would think of this.  Do
moms think about stuff like this?  She'd probably blame me.
"He wouldn't be doing that to you if you hadn't encouraged
him!"  Well, she'd be right.  I did encourage him.

He runs his hands slowly and softly from my hips to my
shoulders.  His balls are swinging forward rhythmically
slapping up against my ass.  Oh God!  The thought of that
alone is enough to make me shoot!  Big hairy balls!  Oh
geeeeez!

There's another person in me!  Well a big part of another
person.  I can feel him moving within me.....and oh fuck it
feels good!  I can practically feel every muscle in his body
as they work.  We need a mirror on the ceiling so that I can
watch his back and butt muscles.

I rub his pecs.  "You must have been an athlete in college?"

He tilts his head and smiles.  "We weren't allowed to get a
letter in this."  Orgasm building, orgasm retreating, I'm
gonna blow a hole in the fucking wall when I finally go off.
He's soooo gentle and that's soooo sexy!

I gently pull him forward to kiss me again.  I can't get
enough of those kisses, they've gone beyond want all the way
to need.   And still, just gentle rhythmic fucking.

"Oh!  Ahhhnnnn!"  A moan!   That's been happening lately.

His hand on my cock is persistent, never ending.  He smiles
down at me.  He's in total control and uses it to increase
my pleasure.   A slight adjustment of his position and he's
pounding directly against my prostate.  I begin pushing back
against his forward thrusts.  I can't help it, I grab his
thighs and pull him forward, urging him to fuck harder.
Somewhere in here rational thought went on a coffee break
and wanton sluttiness came out to play.  My brain has made
the move from my head to somewhere below where my belt
usually is and is sitting there knocking back double vodka
martini's.

Minutes later it's like firefighting boats greeting the HMS
Queen Elizabeth II in New York harbor.  Semen is being
sprayed everywhere.  Not that they greet the QE II with
semen...but you get the idea.

He pulls me against him our slick softening dicks squishing
together, his lips never really leave my face.  I'm lying on
my right side while he's lying on his left, he's running his
hand slowly down my back until he gets to my butt and he
slides a finger in, just in and out, not a big deal.  He's
the only person on earth that I ever experienced this with.
Okay the trucker too but I didn't love him and he didn't
fuck me.  Besides a guy has gotta start somewhere.

It's like his lips are sensors cruising over my face, my
lips my cheeks my nose, like one long continuous kiss.  I
want this man in my life forever.  It's been such a short
time and a big part of me says that I shouldn't make snap
decisions but this isn't just me, just my need, I know that
it's not.

Pete finally pulls away slightly.  "Jase has got the bear up
on his bed and he's using it for a pillow."  His voice is an
intimate whisper, a lover's voice.

I kiss him on the lips and linger for a moment and even then
our lips seem so reluctant to part.  He slides his right leg
through mine and pulls me closer wrapping his arms more
tightly around me.

"I know, it's amazing that he was even able to drag him up
onto the bed.  It looks like the bear is guarding him."  I
laugh quietly.  "Even sitting down that bear has gotta be
five feet high."

                    -----------------------

Jase comes running up to me with his arms outstretched.
"Up, Dad!"

I scoop him up and hold him tight, his warm wriggly little
body safe in my arms.

Jase has his arms tight around my neck and his legs wrapped
around my waist.  "Dad can I have a bologna sandwich for
lunch?  Non of the other kids have stuffed zucchini."

We walk over to the frig with me holding him and peer
inside.  "Jase, I can do Presciutto and mozzarella, you know
a sandwich.  How would that be?  Maybe some fresh basil on
it?"

"Dad!  Nobody eats like that!"  He doesn't know the half of
it.

"The bread is fresh.  You're grandma just made it."  He
rolls his eyes.

"Jase, there's nothing I can do about it right now.  I
promise that I'll stop on the way home and get some bologna
and maybe some peanut butter and jelly.  I touch my forehead
to his.  "But listen to me; you can't tell your grandma!  My
life hangs in the balance with this and besides, if she
finds out that you're eating that stuff she'll go to school
WITH you."  I get an inspiration.  "How about mortadella?
It looks like bologna and your grandmother wouldn't be able
to say anything."

"Dad, it doesn't really look like bologna it's got those
little things in it."

"Jase, you've eaten it before and besides nobody is gonna
look that closely at your sandwich."  He looks at me like
I'm hopeless and I'm left with the impression that the whole
class inspects his lunch.  "You know there's lots of kids
that would love to be eating food like this!"  As the words
are coming out of my mouth I realize what a nonstarter that
is, he couldn't care less.

"Okay, okay, bologna!"  I'm trying to think of someplace to
hide the package without her seeing it except that she sees
EVERYTHING!

A chilling thought occurs to me.  She does see everything!
"Jase?  Does grandma ever have to go into my bedroom?"  I'm
turning my son into a squealer but, of course, he doesn't
know that.

He's chewing on a piece of plain white bread that he found
somewhere.  "Sometimes she cleans."  Oh fuck!  Why does she
do that?  I make the bed!

I grab a plastic grocery bag and trot to the bedroom.  It's
like a crime scene!  Open bottle of lube on the nightstand,
scrunched up wads of Kleenex in the wastebasket and the
sheets!  I know that this is nuts!  I know that she knows
that we do....stuff.  Why does this bother me?   I clean up
the room and then sit on the bed for a moment.  Jase walks
in and leans against my leg, he tilts his head backwards
until he's looking at me upside down.

I bend down and kiss his nose.  "One these days you're gonna
bend yourself in half and break."  He giggles.

                    ------------------------

Carl walks by and slaps me on the butt.  He's way overweight
and sways when he walks. "When you gonna give me some a
that, Sweetheart?"  I'm writing on an order pad and ignore
him.  Carl is the only other person, at least as far as I
know, that suspects that I'm gay.  Well, except for Rose,
Eleanor, my mother, my dad, Pete and whoever else they may
have told in strictest never to be breached, confidence.
Carl caught me parked at the rest area out by the interstate
and is convinced that that means that I'm gay.

"You're gonna really have to increase the size of your
orders if you want some of that, Carl."  I smile at him.

"Baby, you wanna talk size?  I got your size right here!"
He grabs his crotch.

"Doesn't your wife feel like she's got first dibs on that,
Carl?"  Of course he's married.

This conversation has happened so many times in exactly the
same way that we no longer need to adlib.  It's like MacBeth
or Hamlet or something, the actors are not encouraged to
make changes.

On the surface, Carl may seem like a jerk and in some
respects he is but on the other hand he is a great
machinist.  If it's made of metal, Carl can make it and
probably make it better than most.  He started this business
when he was a teenager, a fucking teenager, and now it's one
of the largest machine shops in the area.

"Charlene and me we got an understanding.  She don't ask and
I don't tell."  He laughs.  I laugh.  We're following the
script.

"Carl if you got that contract you're gonna need mucho
grinding wheels."  I'm the worlds worst salesman and I don't
normally call on customers the exceptions to that are people
like Carl and Rose, people that I've developed friendships
with over the years.  I have a couple of outside salespeople
who actually know what they're doing.

Carl wiggles his eyebrows at me.  "I already called Miss
Ellen with an order for a mega-shitload of em."

"Oh?"  I shrug.  "She didn't say anything."

Carl leans against a workbench and smiles.  "Miss Ellen may
have other things occupying her mind these days."  Yeah,
like getting porked by Charlie.  Dear God!

"Carl how the fuck do you know about that?"

"Fishfry at the VFW.  Ran into Grandma Rose trolling for old
geezers.  I told her, I said "Rose what the hell are you
gonna do with these guys anyway?  Why not just get a cat?"
He laughed.  "She told me to get fucked."  Hmmm!  What else
did she tell him?

Carl looked, well almost......bashful.  "She also said that
a handsome young Italian that she and I both know is
now....keeping company with a handsome young doctor."  He
patted his huge hands at me and spoke softly.  "Don't be
upset!  The only people who know are the people that care
about you......and we're all glad that it happened."

                    ------------------------

I pull off my raincoat and hang it to drip on a hook in the
hallway between the garage and kitchen.

Mom's pointing with her bigass wooden spoon at my feet.
"Eric!  Your feet!  You're tracking dirt in!"  She waves her
hand in disgust and goes back to what she's cooking.

I look down at my feet.  "Huh?"  A clever reply that she
obviously wasn't anticipating.

Jase comes barreling into me and I scoop him up.  "Hi
kiddo!"  I kiss his neck and he screams.  He's still at an
age when going ultrasonic is a walk in the park. "Grandma
didn't like beat ya or anything, did she?"

I'm cruising perilously close to the edge.  "Eric," hands on
hips, "why do you say stuff like that to him?  You think
that I would ever hurt him?"  She runs over and plants a big
grandmotherly kiss on Jase's cheek to prove her sincerity.
"He's my little angel!"

I whisper in Jase's ear.  "You're grandma's little angel?"
Being the smarter of us and the one with the least to hide
he instantly nods a vigorous "Yes!".

"So when am I going to meet this friend of yours?"  RED
ALERT!  First of all has she forgotten the part the SHE
played in all of this?  Second of all how did Pete get
demoted to "this friend of yours"?  Third of all.....ahhhhh
third.....okay, so why does she want to meet him now, all of
a sudden?  I knew there was a third.

"We were just talking about that, Mom."  A lie.  "We were
thinking that we'd like to take you and dad out to dinner at
a really nice restaurant."  Yep another lie but needed.  For
one thing she can't or at least probably won't yell in a
public place and for another thing she'd be off of her home
ground, the kitchen.  For another thing, while I might look
like some sort of Neopolitan wharf bum, Pete looks like a
hundred million tax-free bucks.  There's just one hurtle.

And here it comes.  "A restaurant?  What restaurant is going
to serve you food like I make for you?"  She's right, of
course, but this isn't about who's right about what, it's
about survival.  I glance up and realize that, probably for
years, when she gets excited and gestures with that spoon
she's been tossing a fine mist of pasta sauce up onto the
ceiling.  How did she ever miss it?  I smile.

She puts one hand on a hip and gestures towards me.  "You
know, sometime you make me wonder if you're not simple."  I
point at the ceiling.

She looks up.  "Oh dear God!"

I walk over to her still holding Jase in one arm and wrap
the other arm around her.  "Mama!"  An important word!  It
trumps all aces.  I kiss her forehead.  "We just don't want
you to have to cook.  We want you to have a night when YOU
can relax.  You work too hard!"

Now all that I have to do is tell Pete.