Stick Shift: Storge

Cal leaned over me, rippled chocolate stomach muscles sweaty on my lower back and buttglobes, ten-inch manmeat throbbing fixedly inside my cum-glistened bare ass. My arms extended straight down on to the bed, supporting us both as I kneeled before the greek god fucking me.

His long dark thumb still wrapped around my dickroot as my piece pulsed out a final few globs of creamy, burning cum and his long fingers massaged our joined dick and ass connection, maximizing our velvety buzz. His long tongue still massaged my ear, deep into it, as his other hand slowly contoured my tanned pecs down over a taut stomach to pubic shorthairs.

I could see his luscious mahogany gluteal muscle masses rotating in sensuously slow undulating arcs, interrupted by intermittent spasming, as he watched me watch him in the mirror peering at us from the wall. His low, gnarly grumbling resonations were fading as the tenseness in his releasing cock relaxed.

The amazing swell from his manly abs up to the prize-fighter quality pectoral muscles so sexily crowned by the sensitive nipples I loved to suckle were all combining to polish my arched backside. Those hard nipples pinpointed themselves as they waved over me. The congruence of our forms pleasured our afterglow.

Neither of us attempted withdrawal from our conjoinment and the soft nuzzling continued for minutes as we luxuriated in this state that we both cherished. Love is a word so overused, yet so ill-equipped to describe our contentment with one another. Slow-growing natural affection is the basis for all long-lasting, loving relationships. Love based on natural affection takes time. It requires genuine liking and understanding of the person.

Signs of mature love include acceptance, emotional respect, consideration, commitment, friendship, calmness, kindness and caring. There was a term for this in ancient Greece and Rome. It was called storge. Affection stronger on the day one dies than on the first day.

Storge is the reason our ardour never lessened, even after eight years of experiencing it and four months of post-elopement matrimony. Of course, our innovative variations as well as our allowance for extramarital hijinks aided our ventures together. Cal's ability to surprise never ceased and the ways he came up with, in the doing, convinced me of my luck. All the time and daily.

When we had first hooked up, Cal and I had discussed the major fault in most relationships and agreed to avoid the trap. Monogamy is such an over-valued trait. Americans are obsessed by it. We understood that honesty is the first tie that binds when two people match up, and if the age-old provocateur, jealousy, can be dealt with then the fruits of a longterm abiding relationship may be bound. Storge.

When episodes developed outside the two of us, rather than compartmentalizing and hiding from the other, we chose to employ the natural hormonal stresses commonly pulling on most persons as a trigger and catalyst for our mutual rhapsody. It worked well for us and the fantasies and variety renewed our mutual adoration to a wholeness that few understand...an epic poem was unfolding before our blended eyes.

From the outset, when I first spotted the tall, sinewy stud up on the bar at the frat party nine years before, jiggling his barely covered, coveted booty, of which he was totally aware, he locked on my eyes while sweeping a gaze around the riotous party room and never relinquished his stare until the DJ changed the tone to one less raucous. The erotic performance beguiled me.

After it, the six-foot six lean athlete had bounced nimbly down from his perch, gliding ably past grabbing, grasping hands all hoping to seize his attention. I marvelled at the fact that he stopped an inch before bumping me in the far corner from where I viewed the revelry. "Hey, sexy, come here often?" He cliched purposely through a wide toothy grin as he fingertipped the small hollow where my neck met my chest. I had nearly died of embarrassment and burned to a human crisp all at once.

Propping his outstretched fingers on the wall behind my head, he leaned over and down to my only six foot frame and made a sizzle sound through his teeth. The man exhibited hutzpah, confidence and cockiness enough for three men. His musky smell floored me. The neophyte that I was, inexperienced in the ways of social interaction, let alone male-on-male action, I sought as quick a way out of the scenario as I possibly could. My girl friend passed him my digits on her way after me...

The drive for a medical degree completely enshrouded my psyche at that point in my life. Only for the fact that spring break had offered a rare lapse in the tunnel-vision used in attaining my goals had I reluctantly agreed to accompany a close female classmate to the frat party in the first place.

Cal recognized both my angst at his forwardness and drive for set goals almost immediately. After the unbelievably sensual come-on from his bar dance intro, the nubian giant plied me patiently over the succeeding year until I finally succumbed at the 'finish-line' of a cross-country track event I was entered in.

Long distance running was my only physical release and could be practiced anywhere. Singly. And/or with my dog. Though neither talented nor driven enough to make the university track travel squad, I was allowed to compete at home meets, thereby holding my studies to strict set rules.

Him being the campus stud and b.m.o.c. amongst both the male and female student bodies, it mightily baffled me that he kept up his attentive yet respectful onslaught toward my late-blooming, loner, bent-on-achievement self.

It was more than eleven months after our meeting before physicality struck us. Right between the eyes. And legs. He fucked me slow and deep against a tree beyond the backdoor to the gym after my clean-up following a half marathon. Calumet had accosted me as I exited, alone, on the way to my spartan Austin apartment. Physical satiation after the long run mixed with his endearing congratulations for my mid-pack finish proved too much that day. A sex-starved body finally couldn't hold out longer and Cal, sensing it, piggy-backed me to the hidden spot by the burbling little creek he knew.

The ebony adonis sucked my face while he stripped me. His hands lightning-bolted my body by strategic finger-brushings and teasing explorative swirls. Long, limber biceps and hairless forearms lifted me by cradling my bent legs effortlessly off the grass against that tree as he masterfully sank the snake residing in his groin up into me for the first time.

His ranging fingers marked the surround of my virgin butthole, both tangibly titillating and mating my anus as well as rubbing his own magnificent prick. We felt our last remaining wall of separation dissolve in a slow rush of euphoria. The agonizingly patient, almost reluctant act blossomed the sweetest pain I had never imagined through every synapse. From my tailbone to my brain. My toes extended and curled in one arcing motion and our commencement marked the ending and the beginning. Our eyes never once lost contact.

He and me became we.

Cumming simultaneously almost immediately, his sexual prowess slowly seconded our roiling orgasm over the succeeding moments. Never once releasing my legs, my mouth nor my tear-streaming eyes, his movements inked our pact. I had been his dick-whipped mignon ever since.

Thankfully, I didn't get pregnant. Smile.

A blown up, framed picture of the memorable beech tree adorns the wall above our bed to the present day, lower branch harboring a chance bluebird, thus manifesting our meme.

Nobody else knows its story. Well, until now.

Anything close to acceptable looks, personality and unrequited id had overtaken me very late in maturation. Evolving slower than my classmates, I awakened to life outside a solely-known evangelistic upbringing only upon Cal's determined assault. My parents detested him, and by extension, me, for our unfathomable union. Our eternal damnation had been sealed, said they. The parties in Hell were hot, said I.

My ego was a vestigial thing until he came along and the super-ego that the man nourished in me had imprinted solely on him as I grew into myself. Lucky for me, my wild, dark ringleted hair and pug-nose had captivated this stud who could have taken anyone. He told me it was my mysterious nature but that is hard to fathom. Wallflower, more like...or nerd, I felt. But who the hell is complaining?

Cal grew up in a locally well-known family with a tenured university professor father and worldly, refined mother who thrived in their graciously bohemian lifestyle. The couple imbued Cal with the natural flare he now evinced as an adult. His swarthy good looks enabled by an astutely imposing mind opened doors that propelled his establishment in the tech world of software development. By his thirty-third and my thirtieth birthday the two of us were comfortably set in our own right.

Cal's loving, growing and accepting family nurtured my eccentricities, showing me a 'joie de vivre' never once anticipated. By me, that is. Cal told me he knew of our coming together long prior to our first meeting and Cassandra, his doting mama, reinforced this to me. He just didn't know what I looked like, he teased. I bought into the idea slowly but now hold it dearly as my enduring rudder.

Cal grudgingly pulled up off of my well-oiled, fucked frame, still viewing us through the looking glass as he did so. The day was afoot and we had schedules to meet. "So, J-man, do you think he will show up today?" His humongous dick lumbered its way gradually backwards as he asked me again about my new patient from the week before who had piqued our curiosities by the bemusing story 'Samuel' had stiltedly shared with me during that appointment. And which I had shared with Cal.

"He may, or may not," I replied, wincing, "Oooooh, baby, Bay-bee, that is a long dick, don't take it ouuwwtt...," I begged him. He sniggered and held still, half of the log still inside. Tensing it several times, teasingly, he grinned at me in the mirror. This man knew I couldn't get enough of him, having witnessed my appetite hundreds of times to date. I pushed back on it, enjoying some more. "That man is a puzzle," continuing my answer to the question. Samuel Hodge had been my last appointment of the afternoon last week and it took the nurse and me an hour just to get him undressed. "No trust level at all. He wanted me to prescribe him 'the pill' without an exam, said that was all he needed."

Cal continued studying me in the mirror, caught between pleasure and perplexity, while massaging my butt lightly as we listened to the rain pattering on the window ledge. (Rainfucking: the absolute best.) "A pill? For a broken toe?" He plopped the monster out abruptly, without notice, knowing it was the only way... I registered the expected complaint. 'Day-umm', I felt abandoned.

Turning over and spreading my legs, bending them around his while he leaned down over me, nose to nose, we continued. "What did you do?" he asked. I had to focus as I felt his manjuice dribble out back there. This manboy of mine was copiously prolific: we could bottle and market the stuff.

"Well, the man apparently knows and likes Keesha, the nurse, so I got her to tease him into getting stripped down while I left the room. It worked-- but I think she's going to have to probably bone him to get him out of them today. He doesn't trust her after I came back in and took over.

I had been enjoying a third day volunteer practicing at the Rome Free Medical Center after tiring of the vacation mindset six weeks into our summer stay at Cal's family home. My presence had taken the load off the stressed-out, over-worked staff and I loved getting back ino a quasi-clinical mode. Pro bono work. Good for the soul, I thought.

A middle-age 'boy', for lack of better description, Samuel had come into the free clinic the week before. He was 40 years-old, prematurely graying in his temples and goatee, stoutly built and well-equipped for the farmwork by which he sustained himself on the small piece of land outside this town of Rome, Georgia.

Never having finished high school, he had helped around his uncle's land for the first decade after dropping out--school just wasn't for him, he'd stated. The nephew and orphan that Samuel was just went along to get along, it seemed. His uncle had left him the parcel after passing away of untreated diabetes a few years back, and I wanted to test this blood relative of the deceased man.

Not dumb by any means, he was distinctly close-mouthed and unforthcoming. I had figured that out by his first two minutes in the exam room, sitting on the exam table. Fully clothed. He kept his eye on the window as if it were an emergency exit. "Doc, I need 'the pill' for this dang toe I done bent," he had informed me. Doc Scott always did that for him, he had insisted, very plainly uncomfortable in the medical setting.

After sleuthing for twenty minutes, searching for what might have happened to 'bend' his toe, it finally came to light that his milk cow had 'stepped' on his foot a few days before. Guessing that wasn't the whole story, I asked if the cow had had any other contact with him. He shook his head, "No, Doc, she just landed on it for a second, accidentally, after kicking me in the nuts...she din't mean nothin' by it." Ahem, I had thought. This was apparently a repeating occurrence.

So, pretty young Keesha flirtatiously coaxed the shoes and clothes off, cleaned him up a bit and drew a blood sample while I had conferred with Dr. Scott down the hall. The older doctor let me know he had only examined the man one time, years before, and had never treated any 'bent' toes up to now.

Re-entering the room and signaling the nurse to slowly make her way out, I sought to put Samuel at ease in his now bare-ass state with some of my runner's travails, having broken more than one toe and spraining more than one foot over the years while on the running paths.

I had a bent toe, myself, I told him. And it just so happened mine had resulted not from running, but ironically, kicking my horse in the butt to get him out of his stall as a teenager. I was in a hurry, the stubborn horse was not. That big toe remained bent to this day. And ached when the weather changed.

He looked up at me at that and after removing my own shoe to prove it, we compared notes for awhile as he gradually opened up. Naked was not a state he liked in what he considered a public setting, as he let me know. I could see at least one quite swollen and bruised testicle slathered in remnants of some dark, thickly greasy substance. Old, used axle grease from the tractor, I was told. A country cure.

Keesha had been disallowed or unable to clean the site and I decided to jump that hurdle in a bit, instead squatting to attend the very bent second toe, also purple and yellow with bruising. Palpation proved it to be only dislocated and we agreed that he would let me to realign it if I would agree to no sedatives.

"OK, big man, if you want to be a hero, fine with me," I concurred. Grasping the toe with one hand while bracing his foot with the other, I quickly extended and rotated the smelly thing in one quick motion, seating the small bones back to normal places. Flexing it afterwards to assure proper joint alignment, I looked up at him and his surprised look made me laugh. "That's it?" he exclaimed stoically, while flexing the toe himself, further testing it. "That's it," I assured him.

As I stood back up, I gestured to his crotch, stating the obvious. "I need to look at that, Samuel," I said. "There could be some damage there." It must hurt like a mo-fo, I figured.

"Naww, Doc,It be a'ight in a couple days, the grease'ud fix 'em," was all I got, but I insisted. Very gently reaching down and cupping his hugely swollen and rank scrotum, he exclaimed and brushed off my hand. This caused him further pain and I had to sternly instruct him in my most severe 'doctor voice' to lay back and let me examine them properly.

Not liking it at all, the man did so, and I was able to check things over. Finally. His uncut but sizeable dick was shriveled and somewhat bruised black and blue itself but both testicles were what concerned me. Three times the normal size and very tender. There was also a possible small inguinal hernia next to them on his pubic area. Luckily no intestine was strangulated in the swelling and I reduced it by manipulation back inside easily enough, proving my diagnosis. The action gave Samuel immediate relief and a heavy sigh came from him, "Whoa, Doc, what'd you do? It don't hurt near as bad, all sudden."

Not unusual under the circumstances, I told him, the pressure had been relieved. But a temporary truss and a week of epsom salt soaks with honey and lemon on those testicles would let us know if we'd need to do any surgery on him. That word scared him sufficiently enough that we were then able to get the instructive soaks started. A truss and some prescriptions were ordered through the pharmacy next door.

He had looked ready to bolt after it all, again eyeing the window, but changed attitude when the herniating tissue popped back through upon his sitting up. He agreed to pick up the meds and the modified 'jock' on his way out after dressing, through wincing discomfort. I had called the pharmacist to make sure he did so.

That was a week ago, and Cal was now wondering whether I would see him for the recheck in awhile. I finally let my man arise and we drug ourselves to a shared shower where we made sure of no missed spots... After a quick coffee and toast with my sis-in-law, Soph, I bade 'bye to them on my way to town and the clinic.

As usual, the place was thrumming with activity, staff readying first patients, entering histories and filling us doctors in on the schedule. About forty appointments, including two minor surgical procedures later, Dr. Scott and I sat in the break room comparing notes. "It sure is good to have someone to share with, Jake," he admitted, "things run alot better with two than one. And you big city med-center practitioners know how to move, now," he grinned. I ego-preened, respecting the seasoned practitioner's pragmatic, homespun approach to medicine.

The afternoon went well, too, except that Keesha told me Samuel Hodge had not shown himself..."Doc, he's a good man but he don't know what's good for him." In agreement, we just hoped the man was better and that that was the reason for the no-show. City or country, I mused, patients tend to the same foibles and home remedies.

Come 5 PM, we were just cleaning up, closing records and books, turning off lights and locking up when who should show up but Mr. Samuel Hodge, himself. He just about knocked the cute, young orderly, T.L., down as he was locking the door. Mr. Hodge was not limping, even using the formerly afflicted toe as a wedge in the door, and demanded to see me. Keesha attempted to intervene and reschedule the farmer for the next day, but I heard what was occurring and went up front to see how he was faring. I was glad he had come in, after all.

Afraid he would not come back again, I assured Keesha I didn't mind checking him but the nurse scowled that she had evening plans and needed to leave. Dr. Scott and the other staff had skidaddled a bit before, leaving me alone but for the helpful nurse and orderly. Texting home to let them know I would be late, I let the orderly and Keesha leave for their evening and put my smock back on.

No big deal, I thought, I didn't need the computer system and no controlled drugs would be necessary, requiring duplicate keys and such, so I took the much more animated Samuel back to the exam room for his check.

No sooner than I got the exam table rotated for him to use, the man asked, "Doc, you been in town a abou'a month, right?" Six weeks, I let him know, and was glad he was acting so much more amiable this visit. A bit curious, but good nevertheless. I asked Samuel if he would let me check the toe and the hernia. Only a grunt in answer.