Date: Tue, 15 Oct 2013 09:26:23 -0700 From: jay roberts Subject: "The Pimple Doctor, Part One" by Jay Roberts Gay Young Friends "The Pimple Doctor, Part One" by Jay Roberts Gay Young Friends $$$$ Make this note: I will send a contribution to Nifty. It will make me feel good all over (especially there.) **** You may or may not have pimples but if you are under eighteen you are cordially invited to LEAVE. Sorry, we love you but you have to come back later, when you are older. "Norman Gold, come to the blackboard," croaked Mrs. Merze my Bio teacher, a living fossil. Again I had to bear the embarrassment of standing in front of the class with an obscene bulge in my pants. "Be glad you got a bulge," said Pauly after class. "If I got a stiff, no one would know. Pauly was my best friend and the only living person who thought I was more than a cockroach. Pauly was the same age as me, thirteen, but he looked more like ten, poor guy. My tall height and pubic hair were a source of great admiration from him. "Show me again," he said, but it was really a ruse to touch my weenie and then, once his warm hand was there, he and I both knew that it had to proceed. Yeah, proceed to a wonderful wanking to a big cum. Although Pauly thought I was the best thing since red licorice twists, I didn't share his opinion. I thought I was ugly. Take my hair that could not be convinced to lay down on my head and insisted on lifting parts of itself like small springs. Then there was my ear problem. No not something medical, rather something freak-like. They were big. They stood out like those signs that told you to 'stay right'. I heard whispers, in school, when I passed a group of wise guys, "Hey Dumo!" Pauly said they weren't too bad and my fine weenie made up for them. My father said that I would grow into them. Yeah if I became eight feet tall and weighted four hundred pounds. My older brother, who never missed a chance, said,, "Stay out of heavy wind conditions." Still I bore my deficits bravely until this week. This week came the plague! I woke up to find that I had three pimples on my forehead. It was like the way the rain starts. You see a few drops on the sidewalk and figure it is just the gentle rain that falls from heaven (as Shakespeare said) but then more drops come. It was that way with my pimples. As the week went on I found many more eruptions. I tried wearing a hat but Mrs. Merze wouldn't allow it. Pauly spoke to me after school, "You're becoming a man, Norrie." My mother studied my face at dinner that night and said in a low voice to my father, "Sam speak to him later. He may be doing something, at night under the covers to cause this." My father told me, "Son, if you are wacking it, it's normal and doesn't cause pimples." He then told me that they would go away naturally but if I am troubled by them, he heard about a new doctor in town and he would send me to him. An appointment was made with Doctor New field. I went at four o'clock on the following Wednesday. His office was on the second floor above Krause's Bakery. I climbed the two flights getting very hungry over the terrific smells. There was a sign on the door, "Come in and take a seat in the waiting room." There was no one else but me there. The magazines were all weight lifting stuff, none of the usual lady ones. I leafed through one. It only made me feel more inadequate as I was kind of skinny and had no muscles, except that one between my legs. At last the door opened. The patient before me did not exit. There must be a separate way out. A sleek blond head of hair appeared. It was shining with "product" as the ads say. As I rose and walked toward the door the rest of the doctor was revealed. Hey, he was a babe, I had to think. He was tall with a long face. It was smooth, no pimples of course, he was in the business. He long arms and legs were attractive and I got a little pulse in my crotch when I saw his long fingers. "Sit down, er, Norman," he said, glancing at the chart. "Take off your shirt, please." Seeing my questioning glance, he said, "Sometime the condition goes down to the chest and back." That sounded logical and I slipped off my tee shirt. He put his hands on my chest and felt all over. He even checked out my nipples. I was beginning to breathe a little audibly and he asked, "Are you sensitive here" I nodded. Then he finally checked out my face and threw his head back in a loud laugh. I was about to sock his handsome face when he recovered. "I just thought that if I connected the pimples they would spell "Jack Off." He studied my face. "You do know what masturbation is." "Sure. We studied it in Bio. Mastication is chewing of food." I said innocently thinking that Mrs. Merze would never teach any sex activity beyond plants. Again that laugh. It was a rusty hinge laugh but the eerie sound was migrated by the sexy revealing of his long, smooth, Adam's appled neck. I got a hard on. "I bring up masturbation or wanking because sometimes boys your age get dammed up. They need to clear their tubes." Hah, my tubes were perfectly clear thanks to Paulie. "Would you like me to show you how to masturbate?" "Well, if it's medically indicated..." I said, using a line from a TV doctor show. "Remove your trousers and...er...panties." Panties? That made me feel girlie, but what the hell, take your jollies where you can. I stayed sitting down but with my only physical talent, I kicked off my scuffs, and slid down both my pants and...er...panties with one motion. Out of my reddish brown pubic hair my strong pulsing tube of flesh sprang up...beckoning. The doctor was actually drooling a little as he bent over and grasped it. It snuggled gratefully into his large, smooth, warm hand. He began an slow stroke with a loosely closed hand. In a moment I was mewling like a Banshee on Halloween. It would have been embarrassing had not the technique blotted out all my critical facilities. Meanwhile the wily, young doc had dropped his white doctor pants and was wanking, himself in unison with his effort on my prick. We were partners, fellow workers, happy to be in this partnership. Until I spoke in my about-to-come voice that was a house- haunting rasp. I said, unoriginally, "I'm going to cum." "Good boy," he said, "Shoot into this cup." I did it and his cup filled to the brim. I am well know, at least by Paulie, for my copious flow of spunk. He seemed very pleased. "I'll just put this over here, for later," I got a creepy feeling that he was going to drink it later. I rearranged my lower clothing and he did the same. Then he became very professional. "I want you to wash your face five times a day and take one of these pills three times a day." He handed me a small plastic bottle containing, what looked like, candy mints, but I knew they were a special formular. He also asked me to come back in one week. During the following week I followed his prescription faithfully. I am sorry to say I got two more pimples and my face was prettty dry from the five times a day washing. The pills, though, were delicious and I took more than the three a day. Soon the week was up and I arrived at his office for my second visit. End of Part One