Date: Tue, 22 May 2018 18:07:29 -0700
From: Gay Contrarian <gaycontrarian@gmail.com>
Subject: PLAYING DOCTOR part 1

			  PLAYING DOCTOR   part 1

       A story in several parts by Gay Contrarian    February, 2018


This is a work of fiction, based on the experiences and imaginings of the
author.  Any similarity between the characters and real individuals living
or dead is purely coincidental. Individuals not comfortable reading
explicit gay sexual encounters by consensual adults should leave now.  This
work should only be read by those of legal age to do so according to the
laws where you live. Please consider a contribution to Nifty to ensure the
availability of stories like this are preserved for future readers. Any
comments or feedback are welcome – address them to
gaycontrarian@gmail.com  Thanks for reading!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

He is the first friend I made on Tumblr. I don't remember exactly why we
hit it off, but we became good chat buddies quickly. It seemed we had a lot
of similar interests in terms of the posts we'd see and share back and
forth, but our backgrounds were decidedly different.

Dustin is finishing up his postgraduate work at Cal State San Francisco,
and will be starting his residency this coming Fall. He has put a lot of
time and effort into his studies, although I think it comes pretty easily
for him. For a guy with such insight into himself, though, he's struggling
with his sexuality. More accurately, he's struggling to avoid others
learning his true sexual identity; family, friends, school mates would
likely abandon him if they knew. So many before him have endured this pain;
a level of pain that, if not experienced personally, cannot be adequately
explained to others.

So he lives out his hidden desires online or in the shower with toys that
can replicate his fantasies in real life to a very great extent, but not
entirely. He has shared some of his fears and worries with me, and I feel
he has become trusting in my ability to listen to him. Trust overcomes fear
with time, and I hoped that it had built up enough as we've interacted to
have him consider my proposal to meet "live" for a long weekend tryst. It
would permit him the chance to act out his fantasies with another man, and
possibly help reduce the anxiety he's felt in considering actually doing
it. Afterwards, I only wish that he will find the strength to permit
himself to live the life he wants with the person he chooses to love,
regardless of gender. That would be my gift to him for his friendship and
concern for my well-being.

And why should he have concern for the well-being of a man over twice his
age? Maybe that's one of the benefits of electronic interactions. He got to
know me long before he saw pictures of me. He knew my age from the
beginning, so I can only assume there's a part of him (like so many younger
men) that fantasizes about being with a "Daddy"; an older man, perhaps
dominant, perhaps controlling, or even demanding. Someone he can surrender
himself to, but know that he will be in safe and caring hands however the
fantasy plays out. And maybe, as part of the fantasy, the tables will turn;
I think he'd like that!

As for me, having been on my own for several years now, I find it more
satisfying to have a group of good friends so as to feel that I'm not alone
if I don't want to be.  My own sexual history has been active enough that
the only way I'm going to do anything now is with someone I really care
about; no more random hook-ups from the gay dating apps, or cruising the
nude beaches, or anything like that. There's nothing wrong with it, I just
don't find it very satisfying after it's all over and done with, I
guess. Well, that's what I say now, but what will I do when opportunity
knocks? I am a guy after all!

Part of what's fueled my recent sexual desires is a series of short stories
I've been writing; to a varying degree they have some factual basis
relative to my own past experiences. Dustin was kind enough (and lascivious
enough) to agree to proofread the stories for proper grammar, context,
etc. So a part of my proposal for our rendezvous was to reward him for his
time and help with the stories. Well, that, and I just want to get into his
fucking pants! We've joked about who would do what to whom, and I
desperately wanted to see how much of that could be turned into reality.
When I first suggested the weekend getaway, Dustin did not respond to my
message right away. I didn't elaborate too much, I just made it clear this
was something to consider as an opportunity with a limited timeframe in
which to act.  Two days after the first note, he replied, asking what all
it might entail. Naturally, I replied "first off, your tail"! The typical
`lol' came back from him.

I took time to explain better what I was thinking; the location, his
schedule, my memories of the city, the chance to `do it'. That made him
more open to the idea, but he still hesitated to commit fully. As it was
still more than 2 months away, I suggested that he take a week or two to
consider it, but a final decision needed to be made at that point so
reservations for the cottage could be secured.

It took ten days to finally sort out a plan, but we did have a plan! I
would fly into San Francisco the Thursday evening before the long weekend,
and stay in a hotel overnight there. As Dustin had classes until 1 PM
Friday, I would get all the supplies I could that morning, and pick him up
after class to drive directly to Monterey Bay. The remaining days prior to
my flight were reasonably uneventful, as was the actual flight down from
Seattle. I was pretty keyed up about this trip, but I was also trying to
moderate expectations; fantasy and reality can be two entirely different
things.

So, having gathered my checked bag from the arrivals hall carousel, I went
outside and waited to catch the hotel shuttle. It wasn't a long wait, and
only a few minute shuttle ride to the chain hotel, where I checked in, got
up to the room and settled in for my overnight stay. I got an idea while on
the flight down and did a quick search on my laptop, finding what I was
looking for in just a few minutes. A 1990s vintage Lincoln Towncar was
available from one of the alternative rental car agencies near the SFO
airport. I could pick it up Friday morning, and return it Tuesday by noon,
which worked out perfectly for my return flight home. The cost was not an
issue, as the choice of this particular car should become obvious shortly.

There was a steak house across the street from the hotel, so I dined there,
and went to bed reasonably early, expecting that it would be best to build
up both sleep hours and sperm volume in anticipation of the coming days. I
slept lightly, as one does in strange surroundings, but awoke fresh and
ready to go just after sunrise. The continental breakfast buffet in the
hotel lobby was sufficient for my needs, and then I gathered my belongings
from the room and checked out. The Towncar was delivered to the hotel entry
portico, and the rental employee brought the necessary paperwork into the
lobby for my signature. The beauty of such a vehicle was that the front
seat, in this case upholstered with a dark blue velour material, was a
continuous bench across the entire 6-foot width of the interior; no pesky
storage bins or armrest to interfere with stretching out completely (hint,
hint).

I got directions from the hotel desk for a chain supermarket nearby, and
general directions to the university campus. Yes, I knew Siri was going to
direct me there, but a second opinion never hurts. I had a list of
essentials that might be more difficult to find at a beachfront market, so
I stocked up on those provisions and a variety of beverages, both alcoholic
and non. The shopping went quickly; I still had over 3 hours to kill before
our designated meeting time on campus, so I decided to drive on over early,
and take in the sights of the young fraternity hotties on campus. There's
no harm in looking - usually.

I made it to the campus, but found that once there, it was not easy to see
signs directing visitors to buildings. I saw an on-campus security vehicle
coming in the opposite direction and since traffic was almost non-existent,
I stuck my hand out the window, motioning him to stop. When we were stopped
opposite one another, I asked for the Medical Sciences Building 420. He
replied that he was headed in that direction after a brief detour, and I
could turn around just up ahead, then backtrack to follow him; "Nice
wheels, man" was his parting comment. It took about 15 minutes, and I was
thankful to have the patrolman lead me to my destination. I think I'd have
spent all day in the wrong places otherwise.

He pulled into the general parking area for the Med Sci Bldg (as shown on
the entrance sign), and waved me into the adjoining parking stall. He got
out of his vehicle, and leaned into the open passenger window space saying,
"This spot would be a good open space to park, so you'll be able to be seen
or see the vehicle when you're finished your business here."

I replied that I was meeting a student friend who would be finishing an
exam around 1 PM. He looked down at his watch, and commented that given
another 90 minutes until my rendezvous, I might want to head over to the
cafeteria across the street for a coffee and to use the wifi. Then, looking
across at the dashboard, he asked if I had picked up a `Day Pass' parking
permit at the entrance. I told him I hadn't, so he offered to give me one
of several he kept in his vehicle.

When he came back, I thanked him for all his hospitality. He said it was a
quiet time on campus, being the last day of exams before the summer break,
so it was easy to be more attentive than would normally be the case. "Well,
then, officer, if you could take a brief break, perhaps you'd join me in
the cafeteria for something as a way of thanking you". He replied that it
was close to his lunch break anyway, so, yes, he appreciated my offer. We
introduced ourselves, he being Jack, and I Steven.

"Just let me radio in, to let them know where I'll be." When he returned,
he said he was all set. Then he looked through the car window and said,
"This might seem odd but, can I get in and sit in your car? It's so
vintage, and I've never had a chance to sit in a Lincoln before".

 I smiled and motioned him in, and began to notice him as a man, not as a
security guard. He was probably in his early thirties, average height and
weight, and clearly he had played sports of some kind in his youth. His
face was warm and open, like the image I conjure up of a mid-western farm
boy, all wholesome and hard working. We chatted for several minutes, and
then I asked whether he would miss his lunch break if we didn't go to the
cafeteria. "I get half an hour, but they sell to-go sandwiches, so I can
eat in my car later, if I have to".

I replied "Well, why don't we pick up something for each of us, and come
back to the car. It's a nice day, and you can see for yourself there's room
enough in this old boat to have a picnic!" He liked the idea, so off we
went to grab a couple of sandwiches and drinks.

Returning to the car, he asked "You sure it's okay to eat in your car? I'm
worried I might spill something."

"Don't worry; I've got cleaning supplies in the trunk, should something
like that happen." That made him relax, so we talked a bit more in between
bites of our sandwiches. He finished eating first, as I talked more,
telling him about my journey down here, and the plan to continue down to
Monterey Bay for the long weekend.

"Wow", he said, "Cruising around Monterey Bay in a classic like this baby!"
He looked sidelong at me and added "I hope you don't mind me saying, but I
think the older models are more desirable." He ran his hand along the dash
in front of himself appreciatively, continuing with "I'd feel lucky if I
could get my hands on something like this". He held my gaze and gave just
the slightest hint of a smile. We were no longer talking about cars! I felt
a rise in my chinos starting to form, and knew that this was my `danger,
warning' signal.

However, it was so random, and so fucking hot to get hit on by this young
man, that I played it a bit further just to see. "So, time's flying, but
maybe before you go, I could really show you how grateful I am". He looked
taken aback, and I thought, `Oh boy, you've misread the signals!'

He said "I'd like nothing more, but not in such a classic car like this
– it would be criminal if it got messed up". My brain processed that and
I thought, `Okay, he's into this but not in my car. I can't give him head
on a park bench, and there's no time to find another place...So, wait!'

I asked, "Does your campus force have any policy against taking passengers
on your patrol?" with a big enough grin on my face that I hoped he'd get my
drift.

He smiled broadly then, and replied "as a matter of fact, it's quite common
to have civilians in our patrol cars. It's up to the discretion of each
officer, though."

"Well then, Officer Jack, if I'm discrete would you take me for a ride?"
His reaction was both immediate and swift. His lips were like a heat
seeking missile, straight across the distance between us in the Towncar
front seat. I thought the airbag might deploy, his contact was so strong!
His tongue pushed its way into my mouth, but I responded tentatively, not
knowing where he planned to take this.

"Let's take this to the patrol car", he said while backing away from the
power kiss.

So I had my answer; and a dilemma – I was seriously horned up by
abstaining from masturbation for the week prior, saving it up for the
approaching weekend with Dustin. Officer Jack was longing for something and
I had to decide what to offer, if anything.

"Jack, for my sake, how about you go about your patrol, and I can, um, lie
down in the front seat and uh, study the steering wheel column connectors,"
I said without a great deal of thought. Fortunately my subconscious brain
was thinking for me- `Road Head!  An ideal solution. He gets his Daddy
fantasy to a certain degree; I get the random stranger-sex thrill, and
don't jeopardize my sperm load count.'

Well, that's how my sex-ridden conscious brain interpreted it. Off he went
to check in via car radio while I secured and locked up the Lincoln. I
walked purposefully over to his vehicle passenger side door, hoping my
overly tenting chinos did not draw attention to my predicament to passers
by. But, if I had bothered to scan the surroundings, I would have noticed
that no one within sight of us.

Jack unlocked the door, and I started to climb in, as I heard him say into
the radio mike "That's affirmative, I will have a civilian passenger in my
vehicle for approximately 20 minutes. I will confirm when I am once again
riding solo".

"Roger, Out" came the reply from the female dispatcher. Jack said he wasn't
limiting our time on purpose, just that he wanted to respect the fact that
I was supposed to be meeting someone in just over 40 minutes, and he wanted
to be sure I wasn't held up on his account.

"Look," I said, "that's very thoughtful. However, I'd probably still be
driving around in circles trying to find this building, so lets not worry
about who's doing who favors, OK?"

 "Fine, then let's roll, Steve!" he replied.

I noticed the layout of the front seat of his vehicle, and saw that the
console between the two seats had been removed, presumably to create a flat
area to rest a laptop for use during patrol.  The area was now clear, so I
decided to make a move by simply undoing my shoulder safety belt and
literally laying over sideways onto his lap, with my face turning into his
groin. I made sure not to interfere with the movement of the steering
wheel, and used my right hand to reach around my head and undo his trouser
clasp and unzip him.

"Something told me to go commando this morning when I got out of the
shower", Jack chuckled, "not something I normally do."

That's Karma for you", I snickered in reply, busily attempting to slide his
trousers down sufficiently for me to gain access to his semi erect cock and
ballsack. I noted he already had a goodly amount of precum on the crown of
his penis, and it was thick enough to stay in place, right where I could
get at it with my now probing tongue. The moans and hip fluxes he started
to make told me I was making an impact. His driving stayed steady; I guess
he chose a route that didn't involve a lot of turns or maneuvers. All the
action was in his crotch, which now had my face buried in it. Occasionally,
he took one hand off of the steering wheel briefly to stroke my hair or rub
the back of my neck, in order to let me know he was appreciative of my
efforts.

His cock was average in length, just over 6 inches, and not too thick. Just
right to accommodate the whole of it in my mouth, which had seen little,
actually no practice of this type in a decade at least. Talk about a
cock-starved dick licker! I first worked the crown with my tongue, and then
having kept some of his pre in my mouth, I slid along the downward edge of
his cock, towards his smoothly shaved balls. Upon reaching them, I
flickered each with my tongue, not wanting to risk injury by attempting to
suck one or both into my mouth in such an awkward position. In my
peripheral vision, I could see Jack glancing down frequently, to watch what
was going on; I knew he could feel it by the guttural groans and intakes of
breath as I worked his stiff bone.

In retrospect, there would have been several ways to make his orgasm a lot
easier, but that wasn't the purpose. It was to have illicit, risky sex in a
police vehicle and that was what heightened the intensity of the act for
both of us. I was now bobbing up and down with slow but firm strokes, my
mouth fully engulfing his leaking rod. I found that if I moved my hand just
a bit, I could reach under his balls to his taint, and beyond. So I wet my
first two fingers of my right hand with a combination of my saliva and his
precum, and placed them onto the perimeter of his asshole, slowly tracing
the outline while pushing ever so slightly to see if there was resistance.
The lubrication eased entry of the fingers up to the first knuckle, and I
heard a sharp intake of breath from Jack when I breached the sphincter.

"You okay, Jack?" I managed to garble by lifting almost all the way off his
rod.

"Hsssh great" I heard back, meaning I either caught him off guard, or he
was getting closer. So I slowly began moving the two fingers together like
a piston, but using very shallow motions just so he felt movement and not
further penetration. And, I restarted the complete assault on his erection,
which seemed to have grown a bit in both length and girth after my fingers
had entered his love canal. Within a minute, he began getting a bit more
vocal in his enjoyment, and the hips began to move with more intensity.

I ignored the aching feeling from the hard-on in my own underwear as I
wanted to make it good for him. So I risked penetrating him further with my
fingers since they were sliding rather easily now, his ass muscles having
adjusted to the intrusion from outside. I chose to push down with my mouth
to his dick root at the exact moment that I shoved both fingers closer to
his prostate; up to my second knuckle. This combination evoked a major
response, both bodily and verbally, "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Steve, NOW!"

I pulled my mouth back off of his rod to incorporate just the glans, and
used my tongue to rub all over his spongy head, especially the
perimeter. Then he lifted up with a huge thrust of his hips as the car came
to an abrupt stop. The first rounds of sperm fired off into my mouth and
his anal muscles clamped down hard on my fingers, almost crushing
them. Powerful spurts of cum, at least five, hit my mouth with such volume
that I had trouble keeping up, and managed barely to contain and swallow
it.

As the intensity of the orgasm subsided, Jack's butt muscles began to
release their death grip on my fingers, which appeared bluish from loss of
circulation when I removed them and looked. My mouth, however, continued to
absorb the remaining secretions from his half-hard cock. I was careful,
though, to not over stimulate the now-sensitive glans, since that can turn
an exquisite orgasm into something akin to writhing pain.

Having regained his composure somewhat, Jack put the car back into motion,
and I felt very much satisfied that I could give as good as I would ever
get, in the blowjob department anyway. "That was the most intense orgasm
I've ever had, man", Steve said in a low, muted voice. "If they were all
like that, I'd only need to cum once a month; I don't think I could take
more than that."

 It sounded a bit over the top, but I thought, if that's his way of
complimenting me, I'll take it. I sat upright once again, put my shoulder
belt back in place, and tugged at my Chinos to readjust my own stiff
member, which was slowly subsiding.

"I'm so glad you've enjoyed my company on your rounds, officer", I replied,
"I think more civilians should get to know those who protect them, and see
firsthand what they face every day".

He glanced over briefly to see a big ass smile spread across my face, as I
pointed to the radio mike, which I guess I'd accidentally turned on as I
rose back up off his lap. His face fell, and he reached over in a panic to
switch off the mike.

Then he looked at me with a horror-stricken face and said "How long has
that fucking thing been on?"

I realized his palpable fear, and said "I think I accidentally switched it
on when I sat up, long after everything was over", in an attempt to calm
him down. In reality, I had no idea how long the mike had been on
`transmit'.

There was still background chatter as dispatcher and patrolmen across
campus communicated with one another, but Jack had it turned down low
enough so that only his direct communications with the dispatcher would
come in 'loud and clear'. He took another minute or so to calm himself
using deep breaths, as we headed back to the Med Sci Bldg parking lot. He
double-checked the radio switches, ensuring that it was, in fact, off.

Then he turned and said, "Sorry for the panic, buddy, I thought maybe the
mike was open the whole time. The dispatcher lady would have never let me
live that one down!" I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders as if to say
`well, guess we made it through that one'.

As we turned the corner, I recognized the immediate area and saw we were
about to enter the parking lot where the Towncar was waiting. Great, I
thought, and 20 minutes to spare. "Well, here we are," Jack stated, "and
I'm feeling bad I had such a great time, but you were left high and dry".

"Don't you worry for one second about that, Jack", I replied, "I got more
out of this than I can explain. And, I'm about to start a weekend adventure
that will more than make up for whatever you may think I've missed out on
right now. I'm saving my energies", I smiled. He returned the smile, and
reached out with his hand and put it onto my left leg. He rubbed it up and
down lightly several times, as if to silently indicate his thanks for my
efforts.

"And I should be thanking you for saving my lost ass from the maze of
streets around this campus," I said.

"Steve", he replied, "I've got a problem now." I must have looked both
concerned and worried, because he continued "Don't fret for yourself. It's
just from now on, whenever I see an older model Towncar, I'm gonna get a
big ole boner!" he guffawed.

 I just cracked up at the thought of him explaining that to someone. This
time when he leaned in for a kiss, it was a tender one; the kind you give
to someone that means something to you. I returned it with the same level
of passion, and a touch of tongue.

 As we broke, he smiled, and sighed "I was right, them older models are
what makes my heart flutter", feigning a dizzy spell with hand held against
his forehead palm facing me.

I punched him in the arm just below the shoulder and quipped back "I bet
you say that to all the Frat Boys' fathers!" He looked a little hurt, but
then realized I was just trying to lighten the mood as we said our
goodbyes.

We exchanged numbers, promising to text one another after the long weekend,
but I made sure he understood that this was likely a one-time thing, saying
"Jack, you should know that I don't expect to make it back this way anytime
in the future."

 "That's alright," he replied, "It can't hurt to stay in touch with a
kindred spirit, can it? And for what's its worth, whomever you're gonna
spend this weekend with is one lucky son-of-a-bitch!"

With that he gave me another quick peck on the cheek, and I got out of his
vehicle waving goodbye as he pulled away. Now I needed to regroup and text
Dustin my location so when he was finished with his exam he could come
directly to the car.

 By prior agreement, and due to his concern for maintaining a non-sexual
aura, we agreed to hold back any form of overtly intimate behavior (hugs,
kisses, etc.) on campus or in public anywhere near his school or
home. That's what made the seaside cabin such a perfect sanctuary for
lustful lovemaking. Oh, there'd be fucking, carnal animalistic behavior in
the beginning, but it would settle nicely after that first time or two.

The familiar `ping' tone sounded on my smart phone, and I saw that Dustin
had replied, saying he just stepped out of his exam, and would be scanning
the parking lot from is fourth floor vantage point to look for a big white
Lincoln Towncar near the parking lot entrance. Two minutes later the text
"target observed – headed for rendezvous point" flashed on my
screen. Well, this is it – the point of no return. Not really though,
since either of us could put a halt to things at any time. However, I
sensed that Dustin was relieved to be doing this, but mostly because it was
not with some random stranger. I continued to ponder how the weekend might
progress, getting slightly boned up again at some of my thoughts.

I got out of the car to break from my sensuous thoughts, and to be more
visible to Dustin as he made his way to the parking lot. Within minutes he
arrived and shook my hand in an informal but professional manner, as if we
were work colleagues. He had the foresight to pack an overnighter
pull-along bag that one might take onto the aircraft, the size being such
to fit in the overhead compartment. He'd planned to avoid returning home
for his things, and I didn't ask how he explained his absence this long
weekend to his parents. I figured he'd tell me if he wanted to share that
part of his life.

We put his backpack and roller bag in the back seat as the trunk was pretty
full with my bags and the supplies I'd purchased earlier that day. We got
into the front seat from our respective doors, and as he buckled in he said
"What, no Pink Cadillac?" with a smirk on his face.

 "No", I said, "There's a Mary Kay convention in town, and they said I
didn't look like I could sell foundation to Betty White!"

"And who's she?" he retorted.

"The great aunt of Betty Crocker" I said out of the side of my mouth as I
put the car in gear, and headed out of the parking lot. "Anyway, I couldn't
get the cabin after all, so we're gonna sleep in this car at the pier
parking lot in downtown Monterey, and use blankets to hide the fact were
having sex" I told him.

"Steven, there aren't enough blankets in this car to cover up what I intend
on doing to you!" was Dustin's comeback. Well, I thought, that's a mixed
blessing; I won't be able to walk for a week, and I won't be able to wipe
the smile off my face either.

So, instead of that, I said "In that case I might have been better off with
a convertible, to give you room for the trapeze and any other apparatus
you've got planned."

"I'm a self-contained unit," was his response, "but I must admit I'm having
trouble containing myself right now." We had just pulled up to a red
stoplight, so I could look over and saw the obvious bulge in his crotch was
unnaturally large; clearly he was aroused. I don't know how long he'd been
leaking, but there was a visible wet spot to the right of his zipper, so he
was clearly getting into the spirit of the weekend.

"We'll be on the freeway in a minute or so, then its smooth sailing on
cruise control for at least 90 minutes. Then you can tell me about your
exam", I said, trying to keep to our understanding about playing it cool
until the cabin.

The freeway entrance ramp loomed ahead, and I adjusted my driving mentality
to deal with the 5-lane-in-each-direction confusion that is all part of the
insanity of living in a big metropolis. Dustin tapped speedily on his smart
phone for a couple of minutes, and I managed to maneuver into the middle
lane, where I felt I'd be able to avoid the both speeders and the
slowpokes.  A minute or so later, as cruise control took over, I saw his
erection had not subsided, but his need to use his phone seemed to fade.

He looked over at me, and said quietly "Thank you, Steven, for doing
this. You can't know how much this weekend means to me."

You are most welcome, Dustin," I said with all sincerity, "but you should
know that this is for both of us. I need this just as much as you do, but
not necessarily for the same reasons."

He smiled at that, and asked, "How do you suggest we get this party
started, then?"

"Funny you should ask, I replied with a lusty look on my face. "How about I
concentrate on the road ahead, and you can amuse yourself with some road
head!?"

 "Road head?" he snickered "You know about road head?"

I turned my head to catch his eyes briefly and directly and told him, "Like
this Lincoln, I might be vintage, but you'll find I'm extremely
serviceable!" With that I returned my gaze to the front, and shortly
thereafter felt the light touch of two hands working to unzip my
chinos. Yep, this was gonna be a weekend to remember!

			   To be continued –