Date: Wed, 8 Aug 2018 19:55:22 +0100 From: J. Forrester Subject: Do As You're Told Do As You're Told Chapter One: Do Your Worst If you need permission to read this story (from a husband, partner, lodger, boss, next door neighbour, gardener) please obtain it first. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places and events is unintentional. This story is exclusively for entertainment purposes so please enjoy in safe and legal manner. FRIDAY 17TH AUGUST 2018 Strange that a story should begin with an ending... The summer holidays - that had been filled with relaxation beneath a summer sun and clear blue skies - had ended and so too had the first week of term at Coalwater High School. The school year was stretched ahead of the students and teachers alike and no-one knew what was about to happen, whose lives would change and the surprises life had in store for them. The teachers had returned at the beginning of the week but the students only had to endure two days inside sticky classrooms after a not-long-enough summer holiday. For the S6 students, it was the beginning of the final year - after this it would be college, university, gap years or work, or maybe a combination thereof. Thus, for the sixth year English class filled with sixteen and seventeen year olds, there was a growing sense of seriousness. Already they had been cautioned that in January they would sit prelim exams and by May they would sit the exams that would decide their futures. Five and nine months respectively seemed like a long time but it would be crunch time before any of them knew it. Cameron and his best friend Robin were amongst the last to leave the classroom, still discussing the literature they had been studying during the lesson. "Well done, guys. Nice to see you both engaging today," said Vincent – their teacher. "Thanks, Mr Wilson," they said in unison. Just outside the class they heard, in a mocking rendition: "Thanks Mr Wilson." They turned to see Adam, the good looking pain in the ass that was omnipresent in schools all over the world. "Say, does brown-nosing affect your sense of smell?" Adam spitefully asked Cameron and Robin. "Does talking out of your arse affect your bowel control?" retorted Cameron. Adam scowled at them and wandered off. Slowly, Robin turned to Cameron and extended his forearm with his palm facing up. "Go on, high five, you earned it," said Robin. Cameron smiled, happy that his wit was being rewarded, then slapped his friend's hand. Cameron was a beanpole of a boy: tall, though a little shorter than Robin, but lanky. Robin might have been six foot three (1.95 meters) with the build of a sexy rugby-player-swimmer hybrid, but he was timid. Cameron on the other hand was quick with a comeback. They were walking side by side as they left the building. They were both gay and both were single but Cameron had come out and Robin steadfastly refused to. Cameron knew, but Robin refused to be baited by the taunts of bullies. "If you become a doctor, I want you to find a cure for whatever it is Adam has," Robin said to Cameron. "What, his personality?" "Shit! Is that what's wrong with him?" Robin and Cameron shared a laugh over their mutual dislike for the irascible Adam Mansouri – he was good looking though. Nice arse. Cameron and Robin had once been friends with Adam but that was a long time ago. In primary school, the three boys had been thick as thieves and then, over the summer between leaving Primary School and starting High School, Adam changed. They never did find out why he seemed to suddenly hate them so much. Now Cameron and Robin just got on with things - Cameron with pithy backchat and Robin by evading verbal sparring. Talking of nice arses, Mr Jones passed them and both boys turned to look then shared an unashamed smile with one another. "Do you ever wonder why Adam stopped being our friend?" asked Robin unexpectedly. "No, but I do wonder if he's going to pick up the arse of the year award in the underground yearbook," Cameron replied. Robin nodded over his shoulder at the teacher who had just passed; "Student category, obviously." Cameron grinned again - they both seemed to agree Mr Wilson was a contender for the best arse in the teacher category of the school's unofficial yearbook. "You wanna come over tonight?" Cameron asked, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. Whenever he asked that question or any variation thereof, Robin rarely made eye contact with his best friend. Robin was embarrassed by that necessity. "Yea. Is it ok if I come over around seven?" Robin asked. Robin didn't like to stay in his own home when his dad wasn't working. Luckily he worked a lot, but not this weekend. "Whenever you want, you know that," Cameron answered. "Yea. I know." Vincent had collected a few supplies from the English department staffroom and then returned to his own classroom. He had heard the teenage giggle that accompanied gossiping about sex. He supposed he should be flattered to have been the object of that giggling as he passed Robin and Cameron. Mr Wilson was just straightening up his classroom to get ready to leave when Mr Jones entered. "Vincent, I wondered if we could swap detention duties next week?" Mr Jones asked. "Rhys, hello. I'm fine, thanks," Vincent answered sarcastically. "Hi, how are you. So will you do my Wednesday, I'll do Thursday for you?" Rhys rushed out his words. "Can't think why not," Vincent replied. "Cool, thanks. I have a date so I want to run home and make myself look good," Rhys added with a smile. "You definitely need all the time you can get if that's your goal," retorted Vincent with a smirk. "Ha ha," Rhys dryly replied, but took the joke in the intended spirit. "A date," Vincent said with a wry smile. "Anyone I know?" Rhys just laughed and shook his head - he was not well known for having meaningful relationships. He was more of a first date kind of man... though there were some exceptions to that rule. "Yea, no problem," replied Vincent; "By the way, I'm having dinner at Andy and Malcolm's tonight. You can join us if you like." Vincent offered out of politeness - they were friends because they had Malcolm and Andy as mutual friends rather than because they were good mates. Vincent noticed a look pass over Andy's face at the mention of Malcolm and Andy but he couldn't decide its meaning. "Maybe next time." They chatted for a few minutes longer before Rhys left to tidy up his own classroom and office for the day. That evening, Vincent made his way over to his friend's house. Vincent had met Andy a few years ago when they both started teaching at the Coalwater High School, though Andy and Malcolm were both a years older than Vincent who was twenty-five years old. Vincent was just above average height, with sandy brown hair and slim; he put some effort into exercising a few times a week and the stress of his chosen profession helped to maintain a healthy weight too. Malcolm was a GP and had just hit twenty-nine years old, a full year older than his boyfriend Andy and more than four years older than Vincent. Malcolm was an ebony-skinned man and a trim physique; he had buzz cut hair and a beard. He was also a fierce runner, cyclist and hill walker so was as fit if not fitter then men ten years younger. Andy meanwhile was either naturally slim or malnourished and as the conversation turned to keeping fit, Andy found himself sitting back and letting the other two do the talking. "I joined the Symposium Athletics Club last year," Vincent told them. "Gymno-Mania is good too," Malcolm offered. "I didn't say I go to the gym, I just joined it," Vincent joked. Gymno-Mania was a rather more specialist gym than the Symposium and Vincent was halfway to working out why, pondering on the Greek prefix Gymno-, when he recalled an event from his latest gym session. "Have you ever done the beep test?" asked Vincent - he was rather taken by the training regimes offered at the Symposium. "Is that when you dub over swear words with a sound effect?" jested Andy - who was relaxing into a chair in the sitting room with a glass of wine in his hand. Vincent laughed in response to Andy's comedy; "No. It's a pacing test where you have to run between markers before a beep sounds. The beeps get faster and faster so it tests your pacing, stamina, speed..." "How did you do?" asked Andy, sensing a boast coming on. "I was the last man standing," Vincent said proudly. "I've always liked a man with stamina," Malcolm said flirtatiously. Andy swatted him playfully and Malcolm apologised by giving him a kiss. Malcolm enjoyed Vincent's company and was glad the young man was a part of their social circle. He would have enjoyed a threesome with the man, who looked younger than his years, but knew Andy wouldn't go for that. All threesomes were off the table - Malcolm knew not to suggest it again. Andy had not been offended by the suggestion, but he was not keen. It was strange given that Andy was usually so... malleable. Agreeable. Docile. The first time Vincent had joined the couple for a meal at their home - by then he had been friends with Andy for a few years - Andy had teased Malcolm after it. "Do you fancy him?" Andy asked, trying to keep a straight face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Andy," Malcolm said smoothly. "As long as you don't go k-i-ss-i-n-g him up a tree, I'm fine with it. I mean, I fancy Michael B. Jordan and your cool with that, right?" Andy replied. "I don't fancy him," Malcolm reassured Andy. "But I do find him interesting," Malcolm added. Malcolm and Andy had a great relationship and both had commented - and agreed - on Vincent's good looks. After discussing exercise they got to talking about Vincent's love life; they had tried to set him up on a date a few weeks ago but it hadn't worked out. "He was too... submissive," Vincent told them. "You're submissive!" the couple replied simultaneously - they exchanged looks and wide grins with one another. "Yea, I know. But I think one passive man per relationship is the maximum," Vincent replied. Malcolm nodded slowly and wondered if the opposite might be true too - one dominant man per relationship. Could a relationship with two doms work out? "That's true, isn't it sweetie?" Andy asked. "As the proactive one in our relationship, shouldn't I be the one asking the questions?" Malcolm admonished cheekily. "Yes, master," Andy replied facetiously. Vincent smiled at the pair of them. "So Malcolm's the one who holds the keys to the handcuffs?" Vincent asked. Andy looked embarrassed; "Eh... This isn't about us. We were talking about you. Let's talk about you again." "Do you like handcuffs, Vincent?" asked Malcolm cheekily. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds it might incriminate me," Vincent said. "Vincent, be honest... when you said submissive... did you really mean submissive?" Malcolm asked. "We are not chaining him up in the bedroom, Malcolm," Andy said. Malcolm held Andy's hand for reassurance. That is Andy's reassurance, not Malcolm's. Malcolm was a good judge of character. He had known Andy was submissive after the first date and given his proclivities, that was a good thing. Similarly, Malcolm sensed Vincent really was into submission. Malcolm might not be allowed to have Vincent in the bedroom, but to watch him would be fun. "I'd like you to come to help me out at a clinic I run for men. You have to do what I say no matter how... embarrassing." Andy laughed and nearly choked on his wine. Some men would be worried about their boyfriend suggesting such a thing to another man, but Andy trusted Malcolm completely. So while challenging a friend like this had implicitly inappropriate overtones, Andy knew Malcolm didn't feel inappropriately Vincent. Just as important, Andy knew Vincent did not feel that way about Malcolm. "Do your worst," replied Vincent (which was kind of asking for it, really). Andy snorted again; "You're asking for trouble, Vincent." "Maybe," Vincent replied. He looked at his watch and realised the hour was getting a little late. He excused himself to go to see a man about a dog before heading home. While Vincent was in the toilet, Andy and Malcolm were tidying up. "You're not mad at me for that, are you?" Malcolm asked, implicitly specifying Vincent. "Don't be such a girl," Andy replied. Andy knew Malcolm hated it when his dominance was undermined like that. Which probably meant they were fine. "You wouldn't cheat on me with him, would you?" Andy asked. "No, not with him. But if I ever meet Michael B. Jordan..." Malcolm responded. "Back off, he's mine," Andy replied. "I'm kidding. You're the only submissive guy I need," Malcolm said carefully. "I'm still not letting you tie me up again," Andy told him. "I know." "And we are not having sex outside," Andy said. "I know." "And I'm not going to masturbate in the garden," Andy informed him. "Yes. Yes, I get it. We need to work on your obedience training," Malcolm passed remark. Vincent came back downstairs and put on his jacket. Bid farewell and told Malcolm to get in touch with the details of their arrangement. Vincent left the house wondering if he was crazy for agreeing to Malcolm's suggestion. What was the worst that could happen? FRIDAY 21ST SEPTEMBER 2018 It took nearly a month for Malcolm, or Doctor Darrow as he was otherwise known, to set things up for Vincent. Once a month, Doctor Darrow held a male clinic and it was here that he planned to test Vincent's resolve. It was the beginning of the September weekend - during which students and teachers alike enjoyed a four day weekend. "They're just back to school and they have a long weekend already?" asked irate parents. School had finished the previous day and would reopen on Tuesday, leaving Vincent with plenty of time to do something really stupid! Actually, Vincent considered what was coming to be a humbling way to begin the holiday. Or at least what he imagined of what was coming; present fear being worse than all imaginings. For his part, Malcolm was keen to see Vincent with his clothes off and had devised a surprisingly cunning excuse to see that happened. The clinic was on the first floor of the doctor's surgery, which was otherwise closed except for the men attending for various sessions primarily orientated around sexual education and STI checks. The flight of stairs up to the first floor led to a door and through the door was a reception area that today was manned by a nice young man in his twenties. The reception area had an array of chairs that faced two corridors; off each corridor were consultation rooms and at the end of the corridors was treatment rooms; here there was also a passage that linked the two corridors. "I want to give you a physical," Malcolm said as Vincent entered one of the consultation rooms. "I think we should just be friends," Vincent dead-panned. Malcolm grimaced affectionately and rolled his eyes. "Neurofibromaosis, type one," Malcolm said. This time it was Vincent who grimaced - he had inherited NF-1 from his dad. Severity of the disease varies widely, though Vincent was luckily affected only mildly, but he had discussed it with Malcolm a few times in the past. "I have a medical student applicant coming who would benefit from the opportunity to examine a person with a frankly uncommon disease. I also want to collect on our bet. I figure we can kill two birds with one stone," Malcolm was clearly pleased with the contrivance of the scenario and Vincent when didn't reply, he added; "You did say do your worst?" Vincent smiled at that, he had indeed let himself in for this and thought he was game for whatever was coming. Boy was he wrong. "Ok then, strip to your underwear. Including your shoes and socks," Malcolm – Doctor Darrow – instructed. From past experience, he knew this was indeed necessary for the examination of the disease. His dad had had much more severe symptoms and had died four years ago from a peripheral nerve sheath tumour that was a rare complication of the condition. As Vincent pulled of his clothes, he noted that Doctor Darrow had provided no screen for him to disrobe privately behind but he proceeded as if he didn't mind being observed as he stripped. He didn't mind – he knew Doctor Darrow was just messing with him - in fact it was a little bit of a thrill to do what he was told and be watched. Slowly but surely Vincent revealed his developed chest with just a sparse scatter of fair hair between the pecs – his chest was otherwise hairless, not even a happy trail from his navel to the bush of pubes above his penis. Vincent pulled off his shoes and socks so he was barefoot and then slipped his jeans off of his silky legs. Dressed only in his loose boxers - thankfully he hadn't worn briefs or figure-hugging hipsters today - Vincent was ready for whatever Doctor Darrow had planned next. The phone rang and Doctor Darrow answered. "Hello? Yes Sean, we're ready. I see. Yes, send the young man in." Vincent's eyes flashed at Doctor Darrow as he invited a stranger into the room while he was dressed only in his boxers. A minute later there came a knock on the door and the young man was invited to enter. The young man was naturally shocked to see Vincent almost naked in the room. Vincent tried to hide his embarrassment at being seen by a total stranger in such circumstances. "Oh, eh... I could come back..." the young man said. "Nonsense, we had an appointment and it's important we talk," Doctor Darrow said. Malcolm knew the twenty year old would savour this sight once he recovered from the shock. "Yea..." the young man agreed - unable to stop staring. His discomfort could have stemmed either from the almost-naked man in the room or the fact that patients complaint - whatever it was that brought him to the clinic and stripped him to his underwear - was obviously a delicate matter. "This can wait and it's important we should talk privately," Doctor Darrow indicated Vincent and then from the young man. "Vincent, would you step outside for ten minutes? If you return to the main reception I'll get you when I'm finished in here." Vincent had perhaps hoped the young man seeing him was the limit of the humiliation, but it was only the beginning. He slumped at the instruction but was never one for backing down or chickening out. Vincent was still clad only in his boxers when he moved towards the door and let himself out. Walking back down the corridor, the first man to see him smiled broadly and whispered to others in the waiting area so by the time Vincent got there, everyone was waiting to see him. Vincent was confident that a (very) high percentage of the men in the room were gay, going by the looks on their faces as he leaned against the wall facing them. Malcolm had deliberately brought him to a sexual health clinic. Vincent could have sat down but he hoped to only be a few minutes in the glare of the entire reception and he was worried if he sat down that someone would look up his boxers and see his balls and penis. Vincent folded his arms then unfolded them and tried to stand naturally but it was really difficult. A few questions were asked and Vincent bantered in return but by and large the men seemed happy to just ogle him as he stood there barefoot and nearly naked. It was a long ten minutes during which more men arrived in reception, men were called to other consultation rooms and men departed said rooms to leave the surgery. Most of the men were young guys – aged between eighteen, some younger, and thirty. It was a consolation that the handsome lads liked what they saw, which was a confidence boost. "You can come back in now," Doctor Darrow said, startling Vincent form his day dream about a hot green-eyed ginger guy sitting near the back of the room. Vincent walked back to the room and the lads checked out his arse and shapely legs. Doctor Darrow approached the reception desk and had a few words with his receptionist Sean. Vincent found his clothes were folded now and sitting in the corner – at least he could see them and they hadn't gone walkabout in his absence. "Did you enjoy that?" Doctor Darrow asked as he closed the door. "Guys see me in by underwear at the gym all the time. It was no biggie," Vincent attempted to say nonchalantly. Malcolm was unconvinced and smirked at the chubbed up penis pressing within Vincent's boxers. "Well, we shouldn't have any more unexpected interruptions," Doctor Darrow assured him. "Now, if you would stand facing me and put your hands behind your head we can start the examination. Vincent did as he was told. He had had an examination for neurofibromatosis once before, when he was sixteen, so knew what the Doctor would be looking at and for. There was a knock at the door. "I thought you said there would be no more unexpected interruptions," said Vincent with a mocking smile. "This one isn't unexpected," Doctor Darrow replied; "I've been waiting for this one. Enter." The door opened by a gangly boy who started to say; "Sorry I'm late..." The boy looked at Vincent stood in just his boxers; barefoot and with his armpits exposed. In turn, Vincent looked at the boy. Cameron Barness, a boy whom Vincent taught at school was looking into his eyes and then at the bulge in his boxers... "Am I in the wrong room?" asked Cameron. "No. Of course not," replied Doctor Darrow pleasantly. "Cameron, this is Vincent Wilson. Vincent, this is Cameron." Vincent blushed. He knew Malcolm had only given his full name to humiliate him; by so full identifying him that the boy could have no doubts who he was. And yet, by Malcolm's very demeanour Vincent inferred that the Doctor had no idea they knew each other. "Cameron is seventeen," said Doctor Darrow – another detail to rub in the disgrace of Vincent's predicament. "He has applied to Glasgow University to study medicine next year. Assuming he gets the grades he needs from high school." Every detail was designed to emphasise Vincent's degradation and it was working too. Turning to Cameron, Doctor Darrow asked; "Did you travel all the way here from Glasgow for this?" Cameron tried to keep his eyes off his barely-dressed teacher but it was getting hard... and also difficult not to look. "Not exactly," Cameron replied and he was about to tell the Doctor who he was and how he knew Vincent when the Doctor pushed onwards. Vincent would never know that Malcolm's original plan was to prolong Vincent's exposure in the reception area – to strip him there and have the whole group see him exposed. Perhaps he'd have slipped Vincent a Viagra in the moments preceding the exam. But then he had gotten an email from the polite young man enquiring if he could observe or chaperone during a clinic or session in order to have some experience of medical practice. It would look good on an application to university and on a CV too. There was something about the idea of the intimacy of the small room; Vincent naked, the boy close to him and Vincent had said to do his worst. Cameron was still blushing – almost as much as Vincent was – as he looked at his sexy teacher. Vincent was still stood, hands behind his head and armpits exposed. Everything exposed except the contents of his boxers. "Well we are glad you made it anyway," Doctor Darrow responded. "Now, you are going to participate in an examination. Vincent is twenty-five years old and had been diagnosed since birth with neurofibromatosis type one. Do you know what that is?" "It's a genetic disease. It's characterised by lumps that grow on the skin and on nerves," Vincent answered. He knew not from any swotting during exam time but from a documentary he'd seen. "Basically, yes. Originally the condition was known as von Recklinghausen disease after the clinician who first documented it. The lumps, or nodules, are benign tumours that form along the nervous system but they can grow anywhere. As you said, nodules on the skin are not uncommon; these are called cutaneous neurofibromas. If you look closely, you can see a few on Vincent's chest and abdomen and more on his back." Doctor Darrow was speaking like a genuine educator but Vincent knew it would not last long. "Come closer Cameron and take a good look," Doctor Darrow said. Cameron moved tentatively closer and Vincent dropped his gaze, unable to look at the boy. The worst thing was that it was a little exciting to be seen like this. Vincent knew he should tell Malcolm - even he would admit that the boy being a pupil at the school where he taught was a good reason to stop the charade. But Vincent said nothing. Vincent's eyes travelled to Cameron's strong and lean legs, with traces of soft fair hair that Vincent could imagine caressing. Did he just imagine stroking the legs of his seventeen year old pupil? Vincent tried not to think about that. Again. Cameron was close enough now to smell his teachers' skin. "Touch one of the spots," encouraged Doctor Darrow. "How about the little one just below Vincent's left nipple." The physician was now behind Cameron and smiling a self-satisfied smile that only Vincent could see. As Cameron reached out to touch Vincent, they caught each other's eye; Vincent knew the boy would stop if he shook his head. But he nodded instead. To cover the delightful sensation of Cameron's caress, Vincent finally dropped his arms. "Actually, would you mind putting your hands back behind your head Vincent. Another symptom of the disease that we should look at is freckling which can occur in the axillas," Doctor Darrow kept the amusement from his voice. Vincent exposed his underarms again and opened it to Cameron's scrutiny. Cameron was just thinking no-one would ever believe him about all this when he realised – or perhaps decided – he would never tell anyone. It would be a secret for both their sakes and that was thrilling. "Walk around him Cameron and see if you can see the nodules on his back and legs" This continued and when prompted Vincent directed Cameron to a spot on his right thigh about five centimetres below the hem of his boxers where a lump could be felt beneath the skin. Vincent thought the worst was over as the boy finished making circular movements with his fingers on his mid-thigh but he could not have been more wrong. "There is another place that freckling commonly occurs," Doctor Darrow said; "You won't be able to see them just now so you'll have to help Vincent out. In NF-1 freckles are also found in the groin. Vincent should keep his armpits exposed for comparison, so why don't you remove his boxers." The beauty of the request was that Doctor Darrow wasn't even lying. It was a common, but not certain, presentation in the spectrum of the disease. One would usually just pull underwear aside and have a peek but Doctor Darrow was really quite pleased with his initiative. "Vincent, just keep your hands behind your head like that in case the boy wants to compare freckling between the two areas. Cameron, go ahead and pull the underwear down." Cameron again looked for a signal from his teacher to not proceed but when Vincent did not shake his head he stood in front of him and slowly pulled the boxers down. Cameron stopped when the boxers reached Vincent's knees; the penis that was revealed was flaccid but thick. Plump, that was the word. The pubes above the penis were trimmed and his testicles showed a nest of wiry hair. Vincent's knees were ready to buckle from the exposure to the teenage boy and his tremble caused the underwear to slip farther until they reached Vincent's ankles. "Why don't you just slip your feet out of them, Vincent. We've seen it all now anyway," Doctor Darrow said with a disarming chuckle. Vincent glowered at his friend as he slipped his feet, one by one, out of his boxer shorts so that he was now completely naked in front of the boy from his Higher English class. "Cameron, would you pick them up and put them with the rest of Vincent's clothes. They're all the way over there in the corner of the room," said Doctor Darrow just to emphasise the situation. Cameron's heart was pounding as he took in the sight of his teacher's exposure. He bent down to pick up the underwear and was so close he could smell the musk of Vincent's groin. Vincent could feel the ragged breath of the seventeen year old. Cameron lifted the item of clothing and walked behind Vincent to add it to the pile, as he walked back he got a view of Vincent's arse. Fuck! What a bum! Definitely arse of the year. Cameron could just imagine... Cameron went back around the front and for the first time stood right back to take a look; Vincent bare foot and bare-arsed naked with his underarms exposed. His physique was toned, tight and muscular. Cameron had always thought Mr Wilson was hot but he was HOT! "Now," said Doctor Darrow. It seemed like an age since anyone had spoken; "Take a close look at Vincent's groin. You make need to touch his penis and testicles to move them aside and get a good look." Cameron turned to look at the Doctor with a look of horror. "It's just a penis, Cameron. You don't mind him touching it, do you Vincent?" Doctor Darrow asked. There was a tiny edge to his voice – a reminder of the bet he had lost and that this was the forfeit. "No. It's fine," Vincent said with a dry mouth. And it really was fine; in fact now that it had been suggested, he was weak at the thought of the boy touching him. He was still soft, but he felt a little jump in his cock. Cameron moved forward and crouched before Vincent's groin. He could see there were only a few freckles there but for the sake of thoroughness Cameron reached out with his big hands and cupped Vincent's penis and testicles to move it aside. The penis was heavy in his hand and to Vincent the touch was gentle and graceful. Cameron moved the penis over to check out the other side of the groin and then let go and stood up. "Satisfied?" asked Doctor Darrow. Cameron wasn't sure what the Doctor was really asking so he just nodded. "Great. And you notice there is negligible difference in the freckles between the axilla and groin. We can move onto another presenting symptom that is readily seen. Do you know what a cafe au lait spot is?" the Doctor asked. The cafe au lait spot describes a milky-coffee coloured spot - a birthmark - that can occur anywhere on the body and is common in people with NF-1. This is what the Doctor said before asking the obvious question. One to which he knew the answer. "Vincent, do you have a cafe au lait spot?" "Yes," Vincent answered. Vincent could feel Cameron's young eyes search his exposed body for it but could see nothing. "Where?" asked Doctor Darrow. "On my... on my right buttock," Vincent said. Cameron could hardly believe his luck. A close look at Vincent's penis and arse was a dream come true. "Well, let's get a proper look," Doctor Darrow said professionally; "Hop up on the examination table." Vincent looked at the Doctor and so did Cameron but the Doctor just smiled amiably, then: "Vincent, get up on the table on all fours and stick your bottom out." Do your worst. Who'd have thought Malcolm could even think of something this terrible? Vincent stepped up to the padded examination table and lifted himself up to kneel on the edge; once he had shuffled forward he turned through nearly ninety degrees to face up the length of the table. Vincent leaned forward and put out his hands so he was positioned doggy style, his arse pushed out and ready to be seen. Vincent was not just aware of the exposure of his arse but also the weight of his dangling penis and testes; he could look down the length of his body and see it flopping between his legs. Vincent was glad he wasn't hard but it was difficult not to get excited. Doctor Darrow and Cameron stood at Vincent's tail end and admired the round globes of his buttocks. "Well Cameron, as you can see the cafe au lait spot is a light brown pigmentation of the skin, similar to the Crowe Sign or freckling that you've already observed," the Doctor explained. Cameron was invited to lean closer to examine the almost oval shaped brown spot of skin on Vincent's right buttock and then farther invited to touch it to feel for himself that there was no change in texture between the spot and the surrounding skin. "Hmm, is your anus shaved Vincent?" asked the Doctor as Cameron removed his hand. Vincent's cheeks blushed; "Yes," he answered. "Why?" "I had a date." "Oh, I see," Doctor Darrow replied. Vincent was all too aware he had just pretty much come out to one of his school pupils. "It looks a little red," Doctor Darrow said and snapped on a glove; "Is this sore?" "This" turned out to be Malcolm pressing his fingers to Vincent's anus and making gentle provocative circles around the sphincter. Vincent felt his penis begin to stiffen, it was still hidden by his body but when he either sat or stood up an erection would become very obvious. He couldn't get hard in front of Cameron – the boy was seventeen and one of his pupils! "Cameron, put on a glove and feel the anal sphincter for yourself," Doctor Darrow advised; "That's ok isn't it?" "Yes," Vincent replied to Malcolm through gritted teeth. Cameron pulled on a large latex-free glove and copied the Doctor's motion; he had a light touch and Vincent could feel his foreskin tighten as his penis engorged farther. Vincent soon began to suspect the boy knew what he was doing – Vincent recalled that when he was seventeen he practiced that kind of touching whenever he could. "You know, it would be useful for you to attempt a prostate exam on a healthy man. That way when you need to examine an unhealthy one, you'll have an idea of the difference." Doctor Darrow addressed to Cameron. Cameron's finger hesitated before posing a testing press against the hole. "Yea, that would be fine," Vincent said sarcastically, having not been asked before being fingered. Cameron hesitated as a result but then Vincent looked over his shoulder at the boy and smiled encouragingly. "Use some lubricant," Doctor Darrow said as he tore open a sachet of optilube lubricating jelly, a professional water soluble lubricant. Generously applied, Cameron slid his finger into Vincent's anus. "You are looking for a chestnut sized knot of tissue, imagine aiming your finger for Vincent's navel and you should find it," Doctor Darrow said. He sounded professional enough but Vincent knew him well enough to hear the undercurrent of amusement in his voice. Vincent was now fully erect and as he looked at his own throbbing cock, he could see a bead of pre-cum oozing from its tip. "I found it," Cameron said as he gave it a provocative prod or five. "How does it feel?" "Squishy." Vincent, Cameron and Malcolm laughed. "Ok, I think that's enough. Vincent, hop down again and resume your original position until we check we haven't missed anything." Malcolm must have known Vincent had a hard-on that was about to be exposed to Cameron, that was why he could barely contain his delight. Cameron removed his finger and then the glove and with one last glace at Vincent's beautiful bottom, turned to dispose of the glove and wash his hands. While Cameron's back was turned, Vincent swivelled around into an upright position with his legs over the edge of the examination table. Vincent's cock jutted out from his groin and winked at him with a shiny head – then he stood up and put his hands behind his head. Cameron turned to see his teacher stood in profile with a seven inch erection sticking out. Cameron wasn't sure where to look. He moved to stand directly in front of the teacher, taking in the whole sight. Vincent looked tall and fair, his nipples were stiff and brown; his biceps and pecs and abs accentuated by the lights and a thin film of sweat and his penis was rock hard and oozing. If Cameron wasn't gay before, he would have been in seeing this man. "Oh, Vincent... I'm so sorry, I didn't realise you were aroused," said Doctor Darrow. Liar. "Although I can't help but notice your foreskin looks a little tight," Doctor Darrow continued. Bastard. "That is a condition called phimosis. Basically it means the foreskin cannot be fully retracted," Doctor Darrow explained for the benefit of the aspiring Doctor Cameron. "We can test that easily enough. Cameron, I want you to pull back Vincent's foreskin." Cameron locked eyes with his teacher and waited for the tiny nod of acquiescence. So given, Cameron wrapped a hand around Vincent's cock and pulled it back to expose the entire glans. "Is it tight?" Doctor Darrow asked. "I'm not sure." "Try again a few times." And so Cameron began to stroke Vincent's cock until a few ragged breaths made it obvious the effect of stimulation was having. "It feels fine," said Cameron who was now slightly embarrassed. "Good. Well, it seems a shame to not proceed with a DNA sample," Doctor Darrow said. There was absolutely no need for this except to humiliate Vincent, delight Cameron and allow Vincent to orgasm. They were all about to get what they wanted. Cameron resumed jerking off his teacher while Vincent stood naked and panting before his audience. After a few minutes, Vincent was very close to cumming and Cameron was passed a container to catch the inevitable spurts of cum. Vincent bit down on his lip as his cock burst and the container was filled with sticky, milky fluids. Cameron stoked a few more times to milk out the last of the cum then set down the container. Vincent had closed his eyes to enjoy the post-orgasmic surge of euphoria which gave Cameron a chance to lick the cum that had spilled onto his hand without Vincent seeing him. Doctor Darrow saw him though, he raised his eyebrows at Cameron's behaviour and smirked but the boy looked unabashed. When Vincent opened his eyes and saw Vincent drinking in the sight of his nudity. "Can I get dressed now?" Vincent asked as he dropped his arms to his sides. "Of course," Doctor Darrow replied. He turned to Cameron; "Well I hope you have learned something today and that you have gained some insight into the medical profession." "It's been a very special experience," Cameron answered with a wry smile. Cameron looked back again just in time to see his teacher's bare chest being covered by his t-shirt. "So, eh, thanks Mr... I mean, Vincent," said Cameron. "You're welcome," Vincent answered. He didn't know what else to say but he would be glad when the boy finally left the room; he was glad too that it was the September weekend, so he wouldn't need to see his student again for several days. By then, he might know what to do, what to say, and how to handle the whole thing. The most troubling thing was how exciting the experience had been, how turned on Cameron had made him, and how fulfilling the orgasm by his pupil's hand had been. Vincent was finishing getting dressed while Malcolm and Cameron appeared to have a conversation he could not hear. "Cameron, did you enjoy today?" Malcolm asked and it was obvious from his tone he wasn't talking about insight into the medical profession. "Yes." "I'm going to tell you a secret. There are not many people who would do what Vincent did today. He did it because I told him to, because you told him to," Malcolm said quietly. Cameron's face was awash with thinking. Malcolm was very satisfied he was getting though. "I don't know how good your Henley is but..." Malcolm started but was interrupted by Cameron. "I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul." "His fate, his soul," corrected Malcolm - jilting his head in Vincent's direction; "Or others like him. Remember that some men enjoy submitting to authority." Cameron was left to ponder the possibilities of domination as he left the room with the scent of cum on his fingers. After Cameron left, Malcolm was almost boastful; "Go on, admit it... that was pretty good." Vincent shook his head; "Devious, conniving, ingenious..." "Stop, you'll make me blush," interrupted Malcolm. "You realise the trouble we could both be in if anyone found out..." Vincent stated to say worriedly. "Who's he gonna tell?" Malcolm asked hypothetically; "He's seventeen. He's a big boy who can make his own choices. And he seemed pretty agreeable to everything that happened today." Vincent grunted noncommittally. "Don't worry about it, you'll never see the boy again anyway," Malcolm insisted. If only Malcolm knew. After all that Doctor Darrow still had actual patients to see for the clinic and so Vincent left him to it and went home. Vincent felt guilty because he could not not-stop thinking about Cameron, his legs, his fair skin, his big hands touching... Vincent chastised himself for letting his imagination run away from him. Yet, it also occurred to him that as much as he had enjoyed being stripped and exposed to the teenager, Cameron had also enjoyed it. The boner in the boys' pants had been obvious. The excitement of Cameron's touching turned to fear - the boy was a pupil and he a teacher. Vincent knew that what had just happened should never be allowed to happen again, but the submissive in him longed to be told what to do next. When Cameron got home he wanked so much he thought his cock would fall off. His head was dizzy with everything he had seen and felt and touched. It was hardly the first penis he'd seen but it was Mr Wilson. His teacher. His incredibly sexy, gay, naked teacher. Cameron stripped naked and lay on his bed, his hands wandering over his body; with his eyes closed he pictured the man and his hard cock that had shot hot cum that had spilled on his hand. Cameron got a firm grip of his dick as he stroked but he wanted to savour this orgasm and so edged for as long as he could. Cameron stood in his room with his hands behind his head to mimic the scene from the doctor's office. The excitement of touching a man had been the greatest thrill of Cameron's life and he wondered if he could make this beginning of something more. If Mr Wilson did as he was told, things could get very interesting. When Doctor Darrow was finished for the day, he called Andy using hands free as he drove. "Hi, honey," he said mockingly because it wasn't really a term of endearment either of them used. "Hello, sweetie," Andy replied equally sarcastically. "How are your mum and dad?" Malcolm asked. Andy had gone to stay with them for the weekend, having always been close to his parents. "They're good but a little disappointed you couldn't come. Dad has a sore leg, it's red and itchy and kinda scaly," Andy said through the speaker. "Sounds like cellulitis. Get him to his doctor for antibiotics. Also, if it's sore and hot and red it could be a DVT so definitely persuade him to see his GP," Malcolm said. "Are you sure you don't want to join me?" asked Andy. "I just want a weekend at home with a book, a journal and Netflix," Malcolm. "Ok, be good." "I will," Malcolm said; "I just have one quick house call to make." The conversation ended as Malcolm pulled up outside a house that was not his own. He got out of his car and walked up the drive way, when he pushed the bell it was answered a minute later by Rhys Jones. Rhys, who also worked with Andy and Vincent, was dressed in shorts and a vest. "Hi, I was just doing some weights in the back room," Rhys said. "I can see that," Malcolm said. "If you're busy I can come back later." "No, that's ok," Rhys offhandedly ; "C'mon in," Rhys said happily. Rhys closed the front door once Malcolm was inside. "I love it when you're all sweaty," Malcolm said. "How sweaty do you want me to get?" Rhys asked as he pressed himself up against Malcolm. Malcolm kissed Rhys, their mouths becoming passionate and breathless. Malcolm reached down and gripped the hem of Rhys' vest and pulled it up and off. Rhys' muscular chest was fantastic to behold and Malcolm put his mouth to it, working his way down until his tongue was in circling his lover's navel. Malcolm's affair with Rhys was exciting; whenever they got the chance they always put up pretence of merely friendly exchange at the door before descending to carnal pleasure behind closed doors. After all, it wouldn't do to advertise their affair to the neighbours. Malcolm was already on his knees and pulling down Rhys' shorts. The cock inside was plump and hard within a few licks of Malcolm's tongue. Rhys manoeuvred his feet out of his shorts, leaving him only in his socks and trainers. After a few minutes of licking, slurping and stroking Rhys' cock, Malcolm looked up at the pleasure-filled face. "I love it when you keep the runners on," Malcolm said, with cock on his breath. "I love it when you're still trying to look respectable on our knees with my pre-cum on your lips," replied Rhys. "Let's go to the bedroom." Upstairs, Malcolm loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. Rhys lay back on the bed while he watched Malcolm pull off his shoes and socks then take of his trousers and underwear. For now, Malcolm kept on his shirt, the last vestige of his respectable image that Rhys liked so much. Or as respectable as one can be when about to have sex with a friend behind your boyfriends back. Every time Malcolm was with Rhys the same question occurred: can a relationship with two doms work out? So far the question had been settled by taking turns and maintaining a balance, he hoped never to find out what would happens if the balance tipped in Rhys' favour. "So is it my turn or yours?" Malcolm asked with his cock in Rhys' face. When it came to relationships, Malcolm had never been a switch before and always enjoyed his time with Rhys most when he was the one on top. Rhys smiled and licked his lips, "As long as I get to suck that thing, I don't mind." Rhys was not always so magnanimous and in so giving the choice to Malcolm he had already surrendered his supremacy. "Open your mouth," Malcolm told him. Malcolm let his big dick point the way. There would be sex of course, but with Andy out of town, there was plenty of time for foreplay first. Donate to Nifty running - http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html - authors do not receive gratuities. Please contact me if you enjoy this story - it's the only recompense I get from busting my nut writing it all: niftyencomiums@gmail.com I'd also like to thank Nicholas and Jax for their correspondence while I wrote this story over the last 15-18 months. Check out my Tumblr for short stories, chapter synopses and sneak peeks: https://niftyguy.tumblr.com/archive If you are enjoying this story, I have also written: School Exhibitionism - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/school-exhibitionism The Symposium - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-symposium/ The Embarrassment of Riches - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/the-embarrassment-of-riches/