Sometimes I think I should have become a lawyer instead of a medical doctor. It would have saved me much anguish. I wouldn't be subjected to so many temptations that drive me crazy. I am the oldest of four brothers. Our ages rage from 18 to 33. My mother died of cancer when I was 18. It was a traumatic experience for all of us. My two younger brothers, Anthony and Taylor, were only 2 and 6 respectively at the time of my mother's death. They claim to have no memory of her death, but I remember them both crying endlessly and I would hold them to calm them. For me, my mother's death came at a difficult time, just as I was about to enter college. I couldn't imagine a world without my mother, and suddenly being put in a position to comfort my younger brothers was an emotional challenge. My other brother, David, almost three years younger than me, was a pillar for me to lean on. But my father helped keep things together more than any of us. He was a rock. After mom's death, I attended local college and lived at home to help out. Dad couldn't do it alone. Being the oldest of my brothers, it was important for me to be a good role model, especially after my mother died. It was then I decided to enter medical school once I gradated with my B.S. in Biology. I wanted to be able to help people who had cancer like my mother. I also wanted my brothers to see that they had a chance to make something of themselves, despite the tragedy of a parent's death.

Almost a year ago I finished my residency at a nearby hospital and I'm well under way to becoming a respected doctor. So at least I hope. It's tough being a doctor these days. The temptations are everywhere, and can sometimes be overwhelming. I can't tell you how many times after examining a hot girl or guy patient I would have to go into the bathroom and jerk off. I know it sounds pretty unethical, but I would never touch my patients in any other way but a professional manner. But hey, we doctors are only human, after all. We get stirrings too. Okay, so maybe I'm trying to rationalize what happened a few months ago...

I was hanging out at the family home with my fiancee, Sheila, when my youngest brother Anthony shyly asked if he could talk to me about something "personal." Since I was an M.D. requests like this weren't something unusual. Ever since enrolling in medical school, my siblings--and even my father, other relatives and friends--have asked me "personal" health questions in "confidence." I would always roll my eyes, but I was pleased that they sought my assurance and expert opinion. Usually my brothers' ailments were nothing more than small rashes on their feet (athlete's foot, not uncommon in my family of excellent athletes), stomach problems, concern over diet (again, a common concern among athletes, especially my two younger brothers who are state champion wrestlers). Staph infections were also a common ailment for my family since we played many sports, especially contact sports which could cause skin infections.

So, anyway, on this particular day Anthony took me aside about his "clandestine" ailment. Smiling at my fiancee, who was sitting in the living room with my father and brother David, I allowed Anthony to lead me into the bathroom. Everyone laughed having seen this type of episode before.

Once in the bathroom, Anthony at first coyly avoided his "ailment." He just blushed, which made his blue eyes look like gems, and he lowered his head bashfully, his blond hair shimmering in the fluorescent light of the bathroom.

"So, what's up?" I asked, curious why he was so embarrassed. He had shown me lots of things before. What could make him suddenly feel so awkward?

"Well," he began, looking away shyly. "It's, well, it's kind of embarrassing."

"It can't be anything worse than what I've seen before," I said.

"Ok, well... I have this rash, I think. At least I hope it's just a rash."

"What's the big deal? You get rashes all the time? Where at this time? Your feet again? Your groin?"

"No. Not this time. This time it's weird. I'm not sure what to think of it. I'm kind of worried. I hope it's not herpes or anything. I mean it's in my, well, down there." He gestured with his head toward his pelvic area.

"Your cock?"

"Well, kind of near there."

Growing impatient, I said, "Alright, what's going on?"

"Well, it's kind of... It's kind of on my ass, or, well, IN my ass."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Here we go. How lucky for these punks to have a doctor in the family. Must be convenient. I smiled despite myself.

"All right, dude," I told Anthony, chuckling. "Drop your drawers and spread `um!"

Reluctantly, Anthony turned around and slowly lowered his jeans, revealing a firm, round ass that made my heart jump. I had to hold my breath to keep from audibly gasping. I had become quite good at concealing my sexual pleasure when around patients lately. But this was my own brother. I had feelings for my brothers in the past, but nothing too strong, although the feelings had actually grown deeper over the past few years. Ever since I was about 15, I knew that I had sexual feelings for guys, as much as for girls. I'm pretty much one of those full-fledged bisexuals. I find males and females equally attractive; of course, it would depend on the guy. My brothers, like me, were all toned, good-looking and in very good shape. None of us ever fooled around with each other; I was much too concerned about their mental well-being to initiate anything like that, not that I didn't think about it, especially lately now that Anthony and Taylor were young adults.

Anthony was the shortest of us all, standing about 5'8. I'm 6'1, Taylor is 5"11 and David, the second oldest, is the tallest of us all standing 6'3. Anthony's short stature never stopped him from excelling in sports. In fact, he was the most decorated of us all. His built, short frame was perfect for wrestling and football. He was perfectly proportioned, with just a wisp of blondish hair covering his chest, arms and legs.

With my little brother's ass in my face, I steadied myself and tried to turn on the professional M.D. in me.

"Spread your cheeks a bit," I told him, trying to be serious, and trying to hold my breath.

He reached behind with his left hand and, what I thought, expertly exposed his pink hole. A slight stir in my pants made me pause. This was the first time I had ever seen any of my brothers' assholes. Of course we had seen each other naked thousands of times, but never THIS exposed. It was an odd moment for me. It was almost tender. There I was, my nose to my brother's ass, his puckered hole a mere few inches from my lips. I licked my dry lips and peered in. Sure enough he had a rash, with a few pimple-like protrusions surrounding his anus.

"Dude, you've got a staph infection," I told him after studying his hole for a moment.

"What's that?" He sounded alarmed.

"It's just an infection, nothing serious. People get them all the time. You probably cut yourself by wiping too hard and some feces got in there and infected it."

"So it's not something sexually transmitted?"

"Well, you could get it from body to body contact, but it's not herpes or anything like that. It's a bacterial infection, not viral."

He sighed in relief. "Thank God! I was worried."

I studied his anus a moment longer. Then something struck me. "Dude, have you been shaving your asshole?"

"No! No!" Anthony quickly refuted, almost too hastily. "Why would I do that? I didn't do that!"


Anthony hesitated, and then succumbed. "All right. I did it a few weeks ago. I was just trying it. It was my first time."

"Why the fuck did you shave your asshole?"

"I just wanted to try it. The girls like it shaved. You know..."

"Dude, girls don't give a shit if guys have hairy assholes. What the hell is a girl going to do with your asshole, anyway? You can't even see it!" Still peering into his tight, puckered hole, I asked, quelling my excitement, "Dude, you're not taking it up the ass, are you?"

Anthony jerked up in defense, as if I had just struck him. "NO!" he declared. "What the fuck? Hell no! I told you. I shaved it for the girls!"

I wanted to ask him: then why were you so alarmed you had some kind of STD on your anus? But I let it slide.

Instead I said, "All right, bud, pull up your pants. I'll write you a prescription for an anti-biotic. It should take care of it."

"Cool," Anthony said, pulling up his jeans and buttoning his fly. He was still a bit red in the face from embarrassment. I wondered how many people had had the opportunity to look at his asshole like I just did. Yes, my parents, when he was a baby and they had to wipe his ass, but how many people actually see other people's assholes, other than doctors like me? I wondered if husbands and wives could be married decades without ever seeing each others' puckered holes. It was a strange thought, but a thought that titillated me nonetheless.

Anthony looked at me coyly. "I'm just glad it's nothing serious. I was really worried."

"Just do me a favor," I told him as I washed my hands in the sink. "Don't shave your asshole anymore. And if for whatever reason you positively MUST shave your hole, at least use a clean razor, okay?"

Lowering his head and blushing, Anthony mumbled, "Okay."

I dried off my hands on the hand towel and rubbed his blond head. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm with that," Anthony laughed.

That night back at my place I fucked my fiance with more gusto than I could ever remember. She was sweating with exhilaration and couldn't believe what a great pounding I gave her. For the first time I even asked her for anal sex. She was shocked, but was so turned on by my prowess, she submitted her fine ass to me. It wasn't the first time I had had anal, with a girl or a guy. I had had butt sex with a few guys, the last time my first year in medical school, and with my last girlfriend. I really let Sheila have it. She had never had anal but really enjoyed the plowing I gave her ass. I enjoyed our sex that night more than I could remember, too, but I dare not allow myself to acknowledge that my brother's asshole appearing in my mind's eye every now and then had something to do with giving Sheila such an intense session. Every now and then, as I thrust my eight-incher deep into my girl's asshole, I would see Anthony, his jeans by his ankles, bent over the sink, his hand almost seductively spreading his cheek for my view. What a sight! Even with a small staph infection, his asshole was, well, the word that came to mind was, beautiful! Yes, my brother's anus was stunning.

A week later, Anthony wanted me to check the progress of his staph infection. With his asshole once again in my face, I said, "Dude, we've got to find another hobby other than you showing me your asshole."

Anthony laughed hysterically, his muscled butt cheeks flexing with each guffaw, his asshole puckering in and out. Watching his ass flex, I was really getting turned on.

"Okay, settle down." I looked deep into his hole. "Looks like it's clearing up pretty good. You've got some redness still, but that's normal."

"Yea, it's been itching more lately."

"That's normal. It should go away soon. I can give you some cream to take care of the itch. You shouldn't walk around with an itchy butthole. You know what Confucius say?"

"No, what?"

"He who goes to bed with itchy butthole wakes up with stinky finger."

Again, Anthony started laughing hysterically. I always loved making him laugh. It meant he was happy. And with the poor kid losing his mother at only 2 years old, it was good to make him happy. It was one of the ways I would try to comfort him in his times of need.

He settled down and I examined his hole more intently, wanting to stretch out the moment. I noticed much of the hair had grown back just around the anus. It wasn't very thick, and it was blondish like the rest of his pubic hair. I said, despite myself, "I don't think you need to shave your asshole. There's hardly any hair at all. It looks natural."

"You don't think hair there is gross?"

"No, not at all. You're just worrying too much about what others think about you. You don't need to alter your body for anyone...for some girl."

"Yea, sure. I guess you're right."

I stood up and slapped his ass. His ass was so firm, slapping it stung my palm. "Dang, dude! You're doing squats or what?"

"Yea," Anthony said bashfully. "Been trying to stay in shape for football season."

Anthony pulled up his basketball shorts and crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at me. He seemed more relaxed than the first time I had examined his anus. "Thanks, dude, for checking me out."

"I'd like to say my pleasure, but that's hardly the word for it."

Anthony started squawking in laughter again. I felt ashamed that I told him that jibe without really meaning it. It truly WAS my pleasure to stare at my brother's asshole. I only hoped I'd get a chance to look at it again.

"Stop by my place later tonight," I told him. "I'll give you some cream you can put on your shit hole to keep it from itching."


That night around 7:30 Anthony came by my place. After dinner, Sheila had gone back to her place she shared with her sister, so I had the place to myself. Anthony said he had been checking out his asshole in the mirror and it looked like it might be getting worse, and that it was itching something fierce.

"But it looked fine earlier," I said.

"Yea, but I think it's spreading. It's really starting to itch bad."

"Well," I wondered aloud, "the staph could be building a resistance to the anti-biotic. It's becoming more common these days." Multi-resistant staph infections, or MRSIs, are, indeed, becoming an Achilles' heel for the medical community. Treating staph has become a real challenge. Often, surgery is needed to remove the bacteria when anti-biotics fail to work.

"Come into the bathroom, the light's better," I told him.

For the third time in a week, I was peering into my brother's asshole. But this time I was spreading his cheeks for him. It seemed only natural at that point. As a physician, I did things like that all the time with my patients. With patients, of course, I would wear protective gloves, but with my own kid brother, it seemed silly to worry about interchanging germs. We were flesh and blood; we practically had the same germs anyhow. Initially, I was only concerned about causing my brother any undue embarrassment, so I restrained form touching him at all. At this juncture, however, I figured any awkwardness had long passed. Still, just as the first two times, my heart skipped a beat when I first saw his firm ass, and that gorgeous hole spread for my view. Suddenly, I clearly began to fantasize about sex with my brother. In my mind's eye, I saw myself licking his asshole, teasing it with my tongue, getting it moist and then finally thrusting my eight inch cock deep into his tight hole. I almost had to shake my head to concentrate on his staph infection and to keep my cock from getting totally engorged.

"Inflammation seems to have abated since this morning."

"Stop with the shop talk, bro. What's the deal down there?"

"Dude, you look fine. It hasn't gotten worse. You are paranoid. Just let the meds do their job. Don't scratch it, and you'll be fine."

"Are you sure? It's really itching!"

"Yes, I'm positive. But since you have your shorts down, let me get that cream for you. It'll take care of the itch."

"Thank God! I can't stand it no more."

After scouting out a free sample of Hydrocortisone cream from my stash of meds pharmaceutical companies send to physicians, I returned to the bathroom. Anthony was still bent over the sink, legs further askew than before, as if waiting, I thought. He was so cute. With his shorts by his ankles, his round ass exposed, so vulnerable...

"Here you go," I said, holding up the tube of cream and trying to quell the rise in my voice from the excitement of seeing his ass again.

"Get it in there!"


"It's itching really bad. Just put it on! You're the doctor. Get it in there!"

I was speechless. It would have been just as easy if I handed him the cream and had him do it, but he seemed in such misery that, without thinking, I stooped down, squeezed a dime-size amount of cream on my finger tip, and, without wearing protective gloves like I would with my patients, I spread his left cheek with my free hand and began rubbing my finger around his exposed anus.

"Ah, oh yes!" Anthony moaned. I was excited thinking maybe he was moaning because I was massaging around his anus, and that this brought him some kind of sexual satisfaction, but I knew he was relieved only to have his itch finally scratched.

"Get it in deeper!" He groaned.

I began working the cream into his hole, my finger inserted about one-third in. His hole was tantalizingly tight. His sphincter muscles formed a tight ring around my finger. At that moment, my cock sprang to life. It was at full mast, poking painfully through my pants. All sound and motion seemed to stop. It was if a vacuum had sucked the reality from the bathroom, and all that was left was my brother's moans and my finger in his ass. My inhibition of being sexually stirred lessened, and I began to grow less concerned that he would think my actions were turning me on.

"Oh, yea," my brother sighed. "That is so much better. Thanks, bro! I know it's kinda weird with your finger up my ass, but I just want to make sure it gets on there good. You're the doc, after all, right?"

He was about to stand up, but I stopped him.

"Let me get some more," I said, eager, suddenly, to finger that tight hole of his some more.

Anthony retuned into his bent position. This time, however, he spread his cheeks for me, and he used both hands to spread them! I nearly fainted from excitement at seeing him do this. I squeezed more cream onto my finger and began rubbing the cream around and into his hot hole. I dared to go deeper, inserting my finger half way in. A hushed moan escaped from Anthony's lips, and his head involuntarily thrust upward slightly. I knew that moan was different from the others. This moan, I knew, was a moan of sexual arousal. Growing more daring, I pushed my finger deeper into his hole, all the way in. He moaned more, sighing heavily. I rotated my finger back and forth in his hole, gauging his pleasure. Deep inside his puckered hole, I pointed my finger downward and began stealthily massaging his prostate.

"Dang!" Anthony moaned. "How do you know about that?"

"Keep quiet," I told him authoritatively.

My massaging his prostate seemed to send him over the edge. I noticed his low hanging balls tightened, which meant his cock was hardening, although I could not see it from where I was squatted next to his ass. Then, without being able to resist, he reached for his cock and began obviously jerking himself off.

"This isn't weird, is it, dude?" he asked me between moans of pleasure. "I mean, dang..."

I said nothing. My continuing actions spoke volumes. With my heart beating through my chest, I rearranged my position so I could see his cock in the bathroom mirror above the sink. He was grasping onto it firmly with his right hand. I had seen it partially hard in the past, but not so fully erect as it was now, red and shiny, and impressively almost as big as mine.

"Shit! Oh, man! Shit! Dang! Oh, man! Don't stop! Yea! Yea! Oh..."

I saw a shot of gism spurt out of his cock and splatter against the mirror. He slackened over the sink, and his hole began to automatically push out my finger.

Once he caught his breath, he pulled up his shorts and turned around and blushed. "That was crazy, dude! What the fuck?"

"Prostates are pretty sensitive," I told him, still in shock over what had just transpired. But I tried to keep my cool. Neither of us would look the other in the eyes.

"Dang! That was pretty amazing! Kinda weird, but nice. I had no idea you knew about that! But, shit, you're a doctor, right? Of course you'd know. Shit!"

"What do you know about it, dude?" I teased him, looking at his blue eyes a quick moment.

"Just shit you hear around school," he replied, turning away. "I put my finger up there once, anyway. To see what it felt like. Felt kinda good. But not as good as this time." He blushed again.

"Yea," I said, standing up and rinsing off my hands in the sink. "It's a pretty sensitive organ. If you work it right you can actually make yourself cum without touching your cock."

"I know, dude! It's awesome!"

I looked at him suddenly, shocked that he was so experienced. Shocked and aroused. It wasn't too odd talking to my brother about sex. We had done it often. Being the older brother, it was partially my responsibility to educate him on these things. Still, my mind kept lingering on what had just happened. I actually fingered my kid brother to orgasm!

"Yea," I said, returning my focus on rinsing my hands. "Yea, it's pretty awesome."

"Shit, bro," Anthony laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "As weird as it sounds, that was like the best orgasm ever. Do you do that to your patients?"

Without thinking, I jumped at him in a fury and grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and pushed him against the shower door.

"You fuckin' punk! Don't ever say that! You hear me? Don't ever say that!"

"What, what?" Anthony tried to squirm from my grasp. Eventually I backed off and let him slack.

"Dang, bro. What's the deal?" Anthony wiped at his shirt, stained with wetness from my hands, and tried to compose himself.

I suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for having lashed at my brother like that. I tried to smile to lessen the tension, buy my mouth merely twitched. I said, "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to go after you like that. But you have to understand. You can't say shit like that to a doctor. I work hard to be ethical, to get where I'm at. I have never and would never do anything like that to a...to a patient...or a stranger who placed their well being in my hands. You get it?"

"Yea, yea," he said. "I get it. Sorry, dude. I didn't mean--"

"No, no. It's me." I dried my hands and put my hand on his shoulder. He was still shaking a bit. "You're a great kid. I didn't mean to go off." I looked to the tiled floor, ashamed. "You know what I just did, I mean, what we just did...it's just between brothers. We're brothers. You know, it's that sort of thing. It's something brothers do sometimes."

"Yea, I know," Anthony said, staring at me more cockily. "It's a brother thing. Sure."

I turned to go, eager to end the drama. "All right. Let's get out of here."

As we were leaving the bathroom, I heard my brother say under his breath, "Dang. Dang. That was some orgasm. Dang."