Date: Mon, 19 Nov 2012 15:33:08 +0000 (GMT)
From: Hasan Khan <hasancutkhan1987@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: City Man Clinic  part 6

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All characters in this story are fictitious and resemblance to persons
living is accidental.

A few weeks after my visit to Park Range School, Justin Hamley booked into
City Man Clinic for his circumcision. He was understandably nervous as he
walked into the treatment room and had an expression on his face that
suggested resignation to the inevitable. Just turned seventeen, he was more
than on the verge of manhood and it did make me wonder why a teenager in
his situation had not been relieved of his problem already.  A combination
of ignorance on the part of him and his parents and the wait and see
attitude of many doctors when it comes to boys and their foreskins.

Peter Adebi was with me to act as assistant for the forthcoming
surgery. His experience as the son and grandson of Ghanaian circumcisers
was invaluable at City Man Clinic. We had met only the year before,
appropriately enough at adjacent urinals in a club in town. Relieving
myself of several drinks I had looked over to the prodigious organ of the
handsome African standing to my right. He held a lengthy cock which had
been cut to just a fraction of an inch below the enormous
helmet. Mesmerised by the beauty of his circumcision, so smooth and natural
in comparison to the ones which gave an appearance of having had the skin
flayed off up to half way down the shaft I struck up immediate conversation
with him.

Peter responed by commenting on the very prominent scar which ringed my own
dick, the result of a rather inexpertly performed cut during my first year
as a medical student. I had suffered from a tight foreskin throughout my
teenage years and whilst the foreskin was mobile it was tight on erection
and made for uncomfortable encounters.

Later that evening and on subsequent occasions Peter told me how he had
been trained by his father in the art of removing foreskins from infants
and children using only a metal guard, a razor and a pair of scissors. He
explained that in west Africa generally, the preferred style was what we in
Europe called a low and tight cut. He said that he found the American style
of high and tight very erotic and wondered how the inventors of the famous
Gomco had come up with such a thing. Since my purchase of a set of the
famous clamps he had become quite expert at pulling and threading foreskin
through the aperture of the clamp in order to remove the maximum skin
possible.

Peter chatted to Justin as the boy removed his clothes ready for the
surgery, encouraging him to look forward to a trouble free life as a man
without the offending prepuce. It was Peter who suggested that Justin
should have a quick trim at the base of his penis, given the length and
thickness of his bush so close to the site where the painkilling injections
would be administered.

Peter had hardly moistened the area to be shaved when Justin sprang as
solid erection, responding quickly to the warm black hand holding his penis
and scrotum down away from the razor blade. In a few moments the offending
hair was removed, leaving a strip of bare flesh where pubis meets
shaft. Justin's penis stood proudly upright, just as I remembered it being
in the school medical examination room: an impressive length of thick boy
cock, tightly sheathed in foreskin at the tip. Peter took the covered glans
between his strong fingers and squeezed hard but to no effect. If anything,
the organ only stiffened further making the lip of foreskin tighter and
ever redder.

"When did you last masturbate, Justin?" I enquired.

"Last night. In fact I did it twice because of today."

"Well, you are a healthy young man and I suppose that you could do it
several times in a day if you wanted to! Peter, I think you better give our
young man a hand."

Peter Adebi leaned over the leather covered examination table and swallowed
the stiff white boy cock between his dark thick lips, delighted as always
to have sweet flesh in his mouth. How many times had he taken me the same
way after consulting hours, licking his tongue around my uneven, lumpy
circumcision scar. In between mouthfuls he would tell me how much neater he
could have cut me whilst I in return slurped on his massive African pole,
darting my tongue into the tiny gap between shaft skin and glans.

In a very few moments Justin was arching his hips and moaning contentedly
as his juice shot into Peter's mouth. Watching from the sidelines I nursed
my own leaking erection before deciding to take it out of my chinos and let
Peter relieve me of my load before commencing surgery. I whispered into his
ear that his pleasure would come later.

Whilst Peter swabbed and cleaned Justin I prepared a large syringe of
lidocaine and checked the instrument tray. Justin definitely looked
apprehensive as I approached him with needle in hand ready to give him the
necessary local. Peter held Justin by one hand and smoothed his shoulder
with the other whilst I slowly plunged the sharp into the left side at the
base of Justin's penis. Holding the syringe steady I injected deep into the
flesh, all the while watching Justin's expression turn from one of
discomfort to considerable pain as the needle released its cold liquid into
his genital area.

"Hold on in there young man, now for the other side."

Repeating the procedure on the right I remembered my own agony when the
senior urologist at medical school had prepared me for circumcision. With
my body rigid and no one to hold my hand I had suffered the torments of the
damned as that lengthy needle worked its way down into my pubis.

To be on the safe side of pain management I waited for a few minutes for
the lidocaine to take effect before injecting Justin a third time three
quarters way up the shaft near to the site where he would soon be cut. For
a full five minutes afterwards Peter and I attempted to make small talk
with the nervous teenager, waiting for the anaesthetic to take full
effect. A pair of forceps to pinch the flesh of Justin's penis was enough
to test the effectiveness of the pain relief.

Satisfied that the boy was ready for the surgery we began the procedure
with me acting as assistant to an expert in freehand circumcision. Peter
had me hold the foreskin between two forceps, stretched out tightly from
the head of the glans. He expertly introduced the fine surgical scissors
and in one movement cut the foreskin down to the level of the sulcus, a few
millimetres below the edge of the glans.

The pink glans reddened with blood which seeped out from the cut edges of
skin but already the noble plum shape of the head of the penis was visible
to Justin and to us for the first time. Whilst I held the flaps steady
Peter swiftly cut around the penis and within moments two pieces of
redundant foreskin were consigned to the surgical waste tray.

We both swabbed at the oozing ring of flesh which now circled the penis
below the glans. I decided that the minimum number of stitches could be
introduced, to seal the blood vessels and that the major part of the wound
could be closed with dissolvable tissue glue. In that way the final result
would be cosmetically attractive. Within a few years Justin would look as
if he had been born without a foreskin, just a pale scar immediately below
the crown of his penis, a white version of Peter's favoured west African
style of cut.

Twenty minutes after having been anesthetised Justin was sitting up with
his penis bandaged in white and clutching a leaflet on post-operative care
almost ready to be bundled into a taxi to take him home.

With the door locked and no patients expected for some time Peter and I got
down to some serious post-surgery relief. Peter Adebi is a white man's
fantasy when it comes to sex. Tall and slim, yet muscular he has the
perfect cock: thick and long in repose, massively thick and extremely
lengthy in action. At somewhere between eight and nine inches he erects at
forty five degrees and can plough tight white ass forever before shooting
his load.

We often play and tease each other with come on suggestions and today after
having dealt with Justin's little problem we were in the mood for fun. I
love it when Peter grabs me from behind and threatens to stretch my white
ass. I give him back the clichés begging him to hurt me good with his
thick black rod. His fingers are skilled at tightening themselves around my
sensitive nipples. He gets me to the edge, digging his nails in while
ramming himself into my chute.

We stripped each naked, cocks already rampant. I played my part well,
imploring him to fill me with his black flesh. Lubed up for the invasion I
bent myself over the examination table for him to take me from
behind. Suddenly the familiar but always welcome sensation of my arse hole
being stretched apart by Peter's gigantic glans sent shudders through my
body. We were off.

Up and down, in and out he went before flipping me over onto the table,
clasping my body to his, my legs wrapped around his torso. I cannot
describe the mixture of pain and pleasure that that African cock brought to
me. I felt as if my insides were being ripped apart and yet I wanted
more. The almost total absence of sensitive inner skin on his low cut cock
gave Peter an advantage over many men. His leathered glans, naked from his
earliest days, tough enough to resist premature release for hours.

As always I played the white slut begging him to fill me up, hurt me good,
pierce me with his rod, dig me deep and make me ask for more of his
gigantic black shaft, African sceptre, big boy dick. Peter's scrotum was
filled to bursting with solid egg shaped balls and he enjoyed having them
squeezed and crumpled to the point where most men would have cried out in
pain but it only seemed to make him more animal like in his thrusting. With
my rectum burning and his testicles on fire we brought each other to the
point of no return and our tongues met between pale and dark lips the
moment his enormous erection began to shudder inside me and flood my
interior with thick juice. The intensity of his thrusting was sufficient to
bring me to the second ejaculation of the morning, my penis spilling out
its white cream against Peter's ebony abdomen.

Peter and I have crossed the boundaries of doctor and nurse, employer and
employee. As partners in every way we are happy to be with one another and
put our expertise at the service of those who present themselves for
whatever reason at City Man Clinic.