Date: Sun, 20 Apr 2003 12:32:24 -0400
From: John Paul <john_paul@comcast.net>
Subject: The Alphabet Lovers: Quinn

The only way to describe the sensation of hang-gliding is liberating.  In my
opinion, it is the closest that humans will ever get to unaided flying and I
can't think of another activity that is more exhilarating - well, maybe just
one.  As with most life-threatening hobbies I partake in, I got into hang
gliding on a dare from none other than Mr. Daring himself, Jake.  As with
everything he did, Jake soon grew bored with it, but I still enjoy it and
hang glide whenever time allows.

I'd found a cool hang gliding center in New Zealand during an assignment and
after I'd finished my obligations for the mag, I decided to go out for a
fly.  It was a perfect day for gliding - the skies were clear and the winds
were just right.  I rented a hang glider, signed all the waivers and
nonsense, and set off with a few other members to their spot in New
Plymouth.

The cliffs overlooked the beautiful blue waters of the Tasman Sea.  I paused
to take in the breathtaking view, breathed in the salty air, and then pushed
off of the 200 precipice.  My wings filled with air and, in no time, I was
flying aloft the cool, morning breeze.  By then, I'd been gliding for a few
years and had become quite adept and daring at it.  I'd learned to do a few
flips and dives, but there was something about that flight that made me feel
more alive. more daring.  With my increased bravado, I executed a few more
complicated maneuvers with favorable results.

I could have stayed up there forever, but the morning was wearing on and the
club members were soon calling me back in.  So, I found my target and made
my slow descent back to Earth.  My success in the air had made me careless
and cocky, however, and I wasn't paying attention to my landing.  I was
coming in way too fast and the ground was rushing towards me.  I tried to
back off but it was too late and I hit the ground at a good 30 mph.  I
landed on my feet, which may sound like a good thing but, at that speed, it
was disastrous.  I felt the pain in my right leg immediately.  It was unlike
anything I'd ever felt before.  My screams of agony brought the members
running to my aid.

"What's the matter?  Where does it hurt?  Don't move!" I heard them scream.
After that, everything was pretty much a blur.  I remember a gurney, an
ambulance, and a whole lot of pain.  Call me a wimp, but by the time we
arrived at the hospital, I thought I was going to pass out.  They wheeled me
into a room where a doctor was already waiting to see me.

He introduced himself as Dr. Rogers then started the usual checks to make
sure I wasn't bleeding and that I wasn't in shock.  After that, he started
with his battery of questions.  What happened?  Where does it hurt?  Does
this hurt?  How about this?  I explained the situation while he poked and
prodded at various spots on my body.

"It's my right leg, Doc. I think it's broken."

"Let me do the diagnosis please," he said, grabbing my right leg and moving
it slightly.  I screamed so loudly I probably woke the morgue residents.  He
looked at me with a grim expression and said, "I think it's broken."

He followed his prognosis with a clever grin.  Smart ass!  If I hadn't been
in so much pain, I would have given him a piece of my mind, but all I could
think about was making the hurt go away.

"We'll take a few x-rays just to make sure.  Okay?"

I nodded and was whisked away to get some pictures taken.  Sure enough, it
was broken. in two places.  I was rarely sick and I'd never broken anything
before.  Being the drama queen that I can be sometimes, you would have
thought they'd diagnosed me with a rare, fatal disease and I only had a few
days to live.  I started bawling hysterically.

"There, there, Mr. Batista," Dr. Rogers said.  "We can fix it.  You won't be
doing any hang gliding for a while, but you'll be as good as new in a few
weeks.  Just sit tight and I'll be right back to get that set."

I nodded again and he darted off.  He came back a few minutes later with a
tray of supplies.

"Swallow these," he said, offering me a couple of pills and a little paper
cup.  "It'll take the edge off while I set your bone and put the cast on."

I swallowed the pills.  It was some pretty powerful shit.  I was feeling
good in short order and was able to relax while the doctor gently cared for
my broken fibula.  The feel of his soft hands against my skin, the calm
melody of his beautiful New Zealand tenor, and the oddly soothing smell of
antiseptic were enough to put me into a trance-like stupor.  He struck up
some small talk - none of which I can recall - but it was just nice to hear
his voice.  Before I knew it, he was all done.

"There ya are, mate.  Right as rain.  You're a right healthy bloke and the
break wasn't too terribly bad.  Give it four weeks then have your doctor
check it out."

"Actually. I was planning on staying in New Zealand for a while.  Maybe I'll
just extend my stay and come back to let you remove the cast.  Is that
okay?"

"Sure.  You're a pretty good patient; I wouldn't mind you coming back and
seeing me," he said.  He patted me on my thigh and gave me a wink.

My skin tingled with excitement when I felt his warm hand on my upper leg.
I ignored my overactive hormones and smiled.  "Thanks, Dr. Rogers."

"Call me Quinn. that's what my regular patients call me."

Dr. Quinn?  I tried not to laugh at the pop culture reference that his name
evoked.  I don't think he would have gotten it anyway.  He gave me a list of
do's and don'ts for the next few weeks and set an appointment for me to come
back for a follow-up.  I thanked him again and hobbled out of the hospital.

I spent the next month putzing around New Zealand and Australia, taking in
some of the tamer activities the Lands Down Under had to offer.  It's
amazing how much attention I got with that cast on.  Everyone, men and
women, rushed to assist me with one thing or another.  A few of them even
passed me their phone number and told me to give them a call if I needed
more personal assistance.  I didn't take any of them up on their offers.  I
wasn't feeling very sexual with my leg in a cast.

Anyway, my required downtime passed quickly.  I followed the doctor's rules
to the letter and it was time for my follow up.  The broken leg wasn't as
much of an inconvenience as I'd expected, but I was definitely ready to have
that damned cast off.  I went back to the hospital and, after I had my
x-rays taken, I went to the examining room and waited for the good Dr.
Quinn.  It wasn't a long wait, but it felt like an eternity on that stupid
lounge/table covered with the annoying, crinkly, paper.  Eventually, Dr.
Quinn strolled in with a cart full of equipment and a large envelope.

"Okay Mr. Batista, let's take a gander at your x-rays, shall we?"

He hung the photos on the lamp boards and flipped the switch.  The light
flickered to life, revealing the side-by-side views of my leg bones.

"The picture on the right is your leg four weeks ago.  This one here is your
leg today. all healed up," he pointed out.  "So what's say we cut this cast
off?"

"Yes please."

I watched nervously as Dr. Quinn sawed through the cast.  I knew the blade
wasn't supposed to cut flesh, but I had my doubts.  Every now and then, he'd
look up to see me grimace in fear and he'd chuckle.

Now that I wasn't in excruciating pain I noticed things about Dr. Quinn that
I hadn't noticed before - like his deeply set dimples; and his beautiful
dark blue eyes partially concealed by his long, reddish-brown lashes; and
his neatly trimmed moustache and goatee that framed his soft, rosy lips and
a flawlessly white smile; and his broad shoulders that filled out his white
medical coat.  Yep, with the veil of pain lifted, I saw the good doctor for
the beefy stud he was and I liked what I saw.  I eyed him like a slab of
barbeque ribs as he cut through the last inch of plaster and peeled the cast
away from my leg.

"What the hell happened to my leg?!" I screamed.  My leg looked like
something from a sci-fi flick with its misshapen form and pasty gray
complexion.

"It's perfectly natural.  How do you think you'd look if you didn't get any
sun, air, or exercise for four weeks?"

"A whole hell of a lot better than that, I hope."

He laughed.  "Don't worry.  This leg will be just as pretty as the other one
in no time."

"You must think I'm vain," I said, picking up on his comment.

"No, not at all.  But if you were, you'd be well within your rights.  You're
a good looking fellah, and you should be proud of your appearance," he said
with a warm smile.  Then he held my leg in his hand and started to gently
squeeze and lift and turn it.  "Does any of this hurt?" he asked.

"No," I answered.

His hands crept up my leg.  "How about this?" he asked.

"No," I replied.

His hands were now feeling on my upper thigh, far away from the break and
dangerously close to my sleeping cock.  "How about this?" he asked, his hand
gently squeezing my thigh and his thumb accidentally slipping underneath my
shorts.

"N-no," I stammered.  Everything felt real good - too good, actually.  His
meandering examination had caused my sleeping beast to awaken and it was
already forming a noticeable bulge in my khaki shorts.  I hoped and prayed
that he wouldn't notice.  Even though I'd been eyeballing and lusting after
him for the better part of twenty minutes, I never planned on acting on my
desires.  It just seemed. creepy.

"You're as good as new," he declared, seemingly unaware of my newly arisen
affliction.

"And free to go?" I asked, eagerly jumping off the examining table.

"No, not quite."

"Why?  What's wrong?"

"I still have to take your vitals. to make sure you're in good health before
I release you."

"Is this really necessary?" I asked.

"Afraid so," he answered, holding the thermometer up to my lips.

I opened my mouth and let him slide the glass tube under my tongue.  While
that was warming up he asked me to unbutton the top two buttons on my shirt.
I obeyed then felt the cold metal of the stethoscope pressed against my
chest.  He slid it around, trying to find the best spot to listen to my
heart.  As he did, his pinky repeatedly brushed against my nipple and, true
to its nature, it hardened immediately.

"Your heart is racing," he commented.  "You're not nervous, are you?"

"A little," I mumbled with the thermometer still stuck in my mouth.

"Don't be.  You're in good hands."  He smiled and continued to listen to my
heartbeat.

I knew I was in good hands - that's what I was worried about.  He slid his
hand out of my shirt and tugged the thermometer out of my mouth.

"100," he observed.  "A little hot, but nothing to worry about."

He went on to check my blood pressure which was just slightly higher than my
norm, but still very healthy.  Dr. Quinn jotted down the results then asked
me to stand up.

"You're not going to do a hernia check, are you?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," he answered with a laugh then sat on
a stool beside me.

He was now at eye level with my overexcited dick that was making quite an
impressive show in my khakis if I do say so myself.  He considered it for a
moment then looked up at me.

"On second thought, maybe a hernia check is in order," he amended.  "If
you'd be so kind as to remove your shorts and underwear."

"Dead puppies and kittens," I chanted to myself as I nervously unbuckled my
belt.  My efforts to deflate my raging boner were futile, however, and there
was only so much I could do to prolong the act of removing my shorts.  I
took a deep breath, hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers and slid
my shorts and underwear down to my ankles.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I straightened up and showed Dr. Quinn my eager poker.
It peeked out from beneath my shirttails and stood a scant inch from the
doctor's nose.

"No need to apologize," he said.  "You're not the only patient who's ever
had an erection while I've examined them."

"Yeah, but."

My words were cut off by the feeling of Dr. Quinn's hand squeezing and
tugging on my nuts.  "Cough," he commanded.  I did.  He squeezed and fondled
my sac some more.  "Again," he ordered.  I coughed again and he fondled my
boys some more and squeezed them tighter.  "One more time," he instructed
and I obeyed.  He let go off my balls and wrapped his fingers around my
throbbing shaft.

"What are you checking for now?" I asked lazily - not that I gave a damn.

"Erectile dysfunction," he answered frankly.

"Yeah? Well, is it working right?"

He gave my dick a few slow strokes.  "Everything seems to be working just
fine, but I don't want to be too hasty in my judgment. perhaps I should
conduct a more thorough examination."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

I leaned back against the examination table and let Dr. Quinn have his way
with my dick.  He examined it like he said he would.  His eyes were
permanently fixed on my pulsating monster as he slowly masturbated me, and I
thought I could see drool forming at the corner of his mouth.  His tight
grip bordered on painful but, mostly, it felt fucking incredible.  His hand
glided up and down my shaft, pulling the loose skin over the head then
exposing the inflated tip to the cool air.

"Do you suffer from premature ejaculations?" he asked.  His face inched
closer to my hard prick.

"I haven't had any complaints so far," I quipped.

"Very good," he said, still staring at my dick.  "I think you should know
that this examination may take a while. and it may get pretty intense at
times."

"Fine by me."

He smiled happily at my answer then cautiously gave my cock a quick lick.  I
watched him roll the pre-cum around inside his mouth, appreciating its sweet
and salty flavor, before squeezing out another drop to taste.  Grabbing my
dick by the base, he slapped it against his lips before popping it into his
mouth.  His mouth was HOT like a steam oven.  I'd never felt anything like
it before.  Dr. Quinn alternated between swabbing the three or four inches
lodged in his mouth and sucking on it like a straw.

"Doc, you're one hell of a cocksucker!"

He was too busy running his test to respond but his increased sucking let me
know that he appreciated my compliment.  The ginger haired physician
swallowed another inch or two of my cock then started bobbing up and down on
it.  He made a sexy gurgling sound every time my meat banged the back of his
throat.  Each time, I thought I'd dump my load down his throat, but somehow
I managed to hold back the flood.

Dr. Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out a latex glove.  I knew
where this was going long before I heard the rubber snap.  I hopped onto the
examining table while he pulled a small tube out of his other pocket.  He
pinched out a generous glob of clear paste onto his latex-covered fingers
and I hoisted my legs over his shoulder.

All at once, his greasy finger slid up my ass, my dick slid down his throat,
and I was treated to a double dose of carnal pleasure.  His finger went
straight for my prostate and my cock immediately gained another inch in
length.

"Unnnnnnh!  Hell yeah! Fiddle with my ass doc!"

I wiggled my hips trying to get more of his digit up my ass.  He did me one
better and slid two more fingers up my greedy hole.

"Oooooh fuck!" I screamed as Dr. Quinn jabbed and tickled my G-spot with all
three fingers.  It felt so good!  Before long, he had me climbing the walls.
My hips were a good half a foot off the examining table and I was thrusting
wildly into his throat.  I was going to pop my nut real soon.

"I'm gonna cum, Doc, and it's gonna be huge!"

Doc intensified his dick slurping and ass poking, determined to take my load
by any means necessary.  And boy was he going to get it.  My body tensed up
and an intense shiver ran down my spine as I unloaded a torrent of spunk
down the good doctor's thirsty gullet.  There was about a month's worth of
pent up cum gushing out of my dick, but he swallowed it down as quickly as I
could pour it.  When my nuts had pumped out the last of their creamy load,
my cock's powerful throbbing had subsided and I had plopped back down on the
table, Dr. Quinn pulled his fingers out of my ass and let my dick flop out
of his mouth.

He stood up and peeled off the latex glove.  It looked like he was done and
was getting ready to leave, but I wasn't done yet.  Usually I'm not that
interested in being fucked after I cum, but my ass was itching to be filled.
I looked at the bulge in the doctor's pants and knew exactly what I wanted
to be filled with.

"Not leaving so soon, are you Doc?" I asked, fingering my hole like a crazed
sex fiend.

"I'd love to stick around and play, but I have other patients that need my
help, mate."

"But, I don't think you've finished my exam, Dr. Quinn."

Before he had a chance to reject me again, I grabbed him by his tie and
pulled him into a passionate kiss.  He joined me in my game of tonsil hockey
and, confident that he wouldn't try to get away, I let go of his tie.  My
hand wandered down the front of his body until it came to rest on the hefty
package contained within his dress slacks.  He moaned into the kiss and his
hand covered mine.  Together, we fondled his crotch, getting it worked up.
Medical pretenses were no longer necessary - we both knew what was going on
and we both wanted it.  And I wanted it now!

I unzipped his pants and fished around inside for his dick.  Luckily for me,
the doctor wore boxers and it took little effort to free his snake from its
cage.  Dr. Quinn was packing heat!  His dick was a good ten inches long
(maybe longer) and pretty thick too.  It jutted proudly from the fly of his
pants and was hard as steel.  Now that his cock was free, Dr. Quinn wasted
no time in putting it to use.  He brusquely threw my legs in the air so that
my ankles were resting on his shoulders, and stuffed his poker into my horny
hole.  He had done a good job lubing and opening me up, but I still felt
every inch of his brutal invasion.  It was a good hurt. really.

He stifled my moans with a kiss.  His tongue invaded my mouth as his dick
continued to ravage my ass.  He was animalistic with his fucking which was
exactly what I had been hoping for.  The only thing on his mind was plowing
my ass with his fat cock until he dumped his Aussie seed deep into my
bowels.  I could live with that.

The sensation of his dick stretching my hole and digging into my stomach was
amazing.  The feeling of his linen pants brushing against my ass and his
silk tie tickling the underside of my re-hardened cock reminded me that the
doctor was so eager to fuck me that he hadn't bothered to undress; the
thought of being so irresistible was more than my little sex-craved mind
could handle.

"Fuck me, Doc!" I wailed, breaking away from his never-ending kiss.  "Cram
that big dick up my ass like you mean it."

Dr. Quinn withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained in my ass then
slammed his fat, ten-inch beast back into my rectum.  The force left me
seeing stars and, just as I came back to my senses, he did it again.  I
hadn't been fucked in a while, and it had been even longer since someone had
claimed my ass so forcefully.  The urgency with which he was fucking me made
me believe it had been a while for him too.  I closed my eyes, tilted my
head back and appreciated the fact that I could put an end to his dry spell.

Dr. Quinn fucked me and fucked me and then fucked me some more.  Not only
did he have the dick of a bull, he had the stamina of one too.  Not that I
was complaining.  But even he couldn't last forever and, after a good 30
minutes of ass pounding, I felt the doctor's body tighten and his thrusts
shorten.  His face grew bright red and contorted into a menacing grimace,
announcing his approaching orgasm.

With a savage growl, Dr. Quinn emptied the contents of his balls into my
guts.  I must have been right about how long it had been for the doctor
because his load was huge.  He dumped gallon on top of gallon of spooge into
my aching bowels.  So much that it dripped out of my loose hole, down my
crack and onto the crinkly, white paper.  Dr. Quinn's cock sloshed around
inside my sloppy cumhole.  That was enough to set me off.  My dick jerked
and spat out another thick load, just as large as the one before all over
the good doctor's blue silk tie.

We were paralyzed with exhaustion and satisfaction but eventually found the
energy to uncouple and get dressed.  My ass felt very empty without Dr.
Quinn's huge dick inside it.  I probably could have gone another round but
figured I'd already taken enough of the doctor's time - time he could have
spent healing other patients.

Dr. Quinn removed his cum-drenched tie and tossed it in the waste bin.  "You
seem to be in excellent condition.  You're free to go."

"I don't know, Doc.  This right shoulder's been bothering me lately.  Maybe
I should schedule an appointment for tomorrow so you can check it out before
I go back home."

"That sounds like a pretty serious injury. I don't think we should wait that
long," he said, trying to keep a straight face.  "I don't usually do this,
but perhaps I can arrange a house call. say. tonight."

"That'll work."  I wrote down my hotel information on the doctor's clipboard
and told him I'd see him later that night.  I planned on giving him a good
dose of MY medicine.