"I'm just going to check your back passage".
The elderly surgeon's voice seemed to echo from between the cheeks of my buttocks. I gulped as his finger forced open my sphincter and went where no man had been before. His Registrar was a hunky young guy named Osbourne. He gripped my shoulders and whispered reasuringly to me.
"Won't take long".
He was so close I could smell his aftershave. Then the surgeon hit my prostate and sent waves of pleaaure that caused my dick to go rock hard.
"I'm just going to pass an instrument into your rectum", the surgeon said.
The warm finger was replaced by cold steel. Osbourne held me even tighter and i felt pre-spunk ooze out of my erection.
The instrument was withdrawn and the surgeon told me to get dressed. When I stood up Osborne could not have failed to have noticed my aroused state but affected not to have seen it. I pulled my underpants and trousers back up. Osbourne shepherded me to the desk where the surgeon was waiting.
"There is no sign of disease in the rectum. Not that I would have expected to have found any in a healthy 19 year old, but then one never knows". He cleared his throat. "However, your sphincter muscle is abnormally tight. This can lead to problems but can be fixed simply with a procedure we call an 'anal stretch'".
He saw the look on my face and softened the blow.
"It's done under a general anaesthetic". He tapped his fingers. "The government is cutting back on elective surgery and this is one procedure which is no longer funded by the state".
Well, it was 1960, after all, and hospital resources were stretched to the limit.
"I could do the operation next week at a private hospital".
He smiled at me wolfishly.
"How .. how much would it cost?" I asked.
"About $2,000. Do you have health insurance?"
"No, I don't. And I can't lay my hands on that kind of money, either". I was an arts student, first year at uni and poor.
The surgeon slammed my file shut.
"We can probably control things by keeping your stools soft. Dr Osbourne will write you out a prescription".
The surgeon swept out of the room, probably hoping his next patient was much better off. Dr Osbourne was left-handed and diligently wrote out a preseription.
"Lavalax, 10 mg at night. Shake the bottle", he said handing me the sheet of paper. Again he was close enough for me to smell that aftershave.
"Look here Dale", the young doctor said, "Do you have any religious or moral objections to .. um .. sodomy".
I blushed as red as my hair. "Sodomy?", I squeaked, stupidly. I knew what the word meant.
"Yes, an erect penis penetrating another male's rectum". He sounded like he was quoting from a text book. "Passive homosexuals do not suffer from a tight sphincter, I can assure you of that".
"But ... "
"Think about it". He scribbled a telephone number on a card and I took it from him. "I'd like to help you out with some unorthodox therapy". He stood up and flashed me a knowing smile. Osbourne was a handsome toff.
I made my way from Out Patients on to the street. The throng of people on the pavement meant I had to hurry to get to my next lecture on time.
That card with the telephone number written on it in Osbourne's untidy hand, burned a hole in my pocket for days. I picked up the Lavalax from the pharmacy. It tasted foul and made me fart all night.
The medication helped me come to a decision about the registrar's offer. I knew I was queer but had never had sex with anyone before. It was illegal and the scene was very much underground in those days. So, I rang Osbourne from the telephone kiosk at my commercial lodgings.
The number turned out to be that of the hospital. I asked the receptionist if I could please speak to Dr Osbourne. There was a lengthy delay while she rang around, trying to find him.
"Osbourne". His voice in the earpiece almost made me jump.
"Um yes, it's Dale", I stammered. "Can I have some of your unorthodox therapy?"
"Sure! Saturday night OK? Say, around seven?"
"Good man. Meet me beside Reception in the hospital foyer. Must dash - I've got a hernia that needs unstrangling". He rang off.
On Saturday I swapped places on the bath roster. Back then we only had a bath once a week. I sat in the big tub scrubbing my pink flesh, paying particular attention to the inside of my bum crack.
While I was drying myself afterwards, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was a weedy little guy, the runt of the litter. I looked far younger than my 19 years. I sighed and got dressed.
At 7.00pm I stood in the Reception area of the busy hospital. There were people everywhere. I smelt his aftershave before I saw Osbourne.
"Come with me over to the Single Men's Quarters".
We trudged for miles along corridors. Then I heard a radio playing a hit tune of the day and we were in the staff area. The registrar shepherded me into his room and closed the door. There was a bed, a chair and a desk. Books everywhere. I didn't see that at first because my eyes went straight to the three men who were lounging in the small room.
"These are, um, colleagues. No names", Osbourne said. "You understand we need to be discreet about this".
The men looked like they'd spent the afternoon playing rugby and had then eaten half a sheep each for dinner. They were big and tough. I took a step back.
"I've got an idea", one hunk said. "Let's show the boy our wedding tackle and let him decide which one he wants to do him".
There was a murmur of agreement, then a general downing of trousers and underpants. I stared at their slack penises.
"Better get the old fella hard for him", one masculine registrar said. He spat on his hand and then started pulling on his dick. The others followed suit. Soon I was confronted by three, fine upstanding cocks. I turned to Osbourne who had kept his trousers up.
"Which one do you want?"
One cock was massive, another large. The third was smaller but as rigid as a poker. I pointed at him.
"Good choice", Osbourne said.
The other men got dressed an then looked at me expectantly. Suddenly, I decided to chicken out and made a run for the door.
"We've got ourselves a bolter!" one big guy yelled. I felt myself being tackled.
"Get his pants off".
My trousers got pulled down and my underpants quickly followed. Osbourne cleared his desk and I was placed chest down on that.
"Spread him", the man I had chosen ordered. Willing hands gripped both of my legs and pulled them apart. Osbourne grabbed my shoulders.
"It's for your own good", he said.
Then I felt a greasy nob push against my virgin backdoor. With one lunge he breached my sphincter. He kept pushing until his nuts slammed against my bum-cheeks.
I felt hot tears sting my eyes.
"Strewth! He is tight. This boy's behind needs a really good seeing-to".
The young registrar's penis seemed to swell inside me. The stinging hurt of my sorely-stretched sphincter eased a little. Then Osbourne's telephone rang. He answered it and then spoke urgently to the man who was inside me.
"Cardiac arrest on your ward".
"Shit! Give me a count-down, guys!"
They shouted in unison. "TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!"
With each new number he thrust into me hard and fast. When the gang shouted 'ONE!' I felt his big member explode, filling my insides with hot spunk. Quickly he pulled out of me, and was still getting dressed as he rushed out the door. The men holding me did not relax their grip.
"Me next", the man holding my right leg, yelled. Osbourne reached down with his big paw and grabbed that leg, spreading me wide open while his other hand held me by the head.
This time a mushroom-headed thick cock slammed into my hot, tight juicy shitter. This man had no reason to hurry but did so anyway. In time at all he groaned and I felt his seed spurt inside me.
Like a team, they changed positions until the third man's big cock was bloating my shute.
"A bit soggy back here", he commented.
Then he slammed his fleshy monster home, working it like a piston inside my bum-hole. I was now quite enjoying the alien sensations. There was something comforting about being held by big men while a third enthusiastically performed Osbourne's unorthodox therapy. I did not feel the least bit coerced and was glad the men hadn't let me run out on them. The registrar who was in me grunted and then I felt his balls-juice fill my carnal canal.
After that, the men released their hold and Osbourne complimented them on opening me up so well. They sat on the bed drinking ale.
"Thirsty work, this buggering", one hunk said and guzzled his beer.
I lay on top of the desk like a small beached whale.
"He's got a lovely little bum on him", another hunk observed. "Reminds me of Wellesley who fagged for me at school. I had to beat him at least one a week". He smiled. "I think the little beast enjoyed it'.
Not for the first time I was glad my parents had not been able to afford to send me to boarding school.
Osborne came over to me.
"Think so", I replied. "Can I use your toilet?"
He found me a white coat and smuggled me across to the ablution block. He waited until I was finished and then took me back again. The room was empty.
"It's Saturday night. They've all got hot dates". Osbourne explained.
"What about you?" I asked.
"Me? Nah, I'm a regular wallflower". He handed me an ale. I sipped it slowly.
"Did you enjoy what the guys were doing?" he asked.
"Well, once I got used to it, I guess. It was all a bit rushed. Kind of lusty. I'm glad you held onto me otherwise I'd have never gone through with it".
"Working in theatre means we can get a bit insensitive. Of course in there the patient is out to it".
"I'm glad I wasn't".
We sipped our ale in companionable silence.
"Have you ever seen an anus?" Osbourne asked me.
I stared at him.
"Well, no. I mean it's not a part of the human anatomy that's ever on display, is it?"
"I'll show you one".
The registrar took off his trousers and underpants and bent over right in front of my face. As his sweet cheeks parted the musk of man scent reached my nostrils. I examined his hairy crack with it's prominent pinkish-brown anus.
"It's got lips", I marvelled.
"They're called 'cushions'", he explained. "You can touch them if you want".
Reverently, I ran the tip of my finger over his arse-hole. When I stopped I swear his brown-eye 'winked' at me.
"The cushions spasm sometimes", Osbourne confirmed.
I ran the palms of my hands over his taut muscular buttocks.
"You've got the most beautiful bum I have ever seen".
"Thanks!" he replied. "You don't do so bad yourself in that department".
"Can I see your co-c.. um, wedding tackle?"
He turned around until his slack penis was right in front of my face. The thing was huge.
"How .. how big is it?" I asked, wonderingly.
"Nearly 13 inches when erect. It's thick as well".
"Wow! Mine is less than half the size of yours".
"They called me Elephant Dick at school. It's useless", Osborne said, miserably.
"What do you mean 'useless' ?
"Well what girl is going to let me put this big thing inside her cunny? One glimpse of this and she'd run a mile. One girl already has".
He smacked his giant schlong with the flat of his hand and it swung backwards and forwards in front of my face, mesmerisingly.
"I wish you'd put it inside me", I said impulsively.
"And split you right open? No, that's why I got my colleagues to take your cherry".
"Isn't their some other position?" I asked. "What if I sat on it?"
"That would be the safest", he agreed. "But look at the size of the thing".
He stroked his penis until it swung up like some obscene harbour crane. The thing really was enormous.
"I want to try", I said, stubbornly, and then harped on at him until he gave in.
Osbourne coated the head and massive shaft with petroleum jelly and then sat back on his bed. I squatted over the giant phallus until the head was pressing against my hole. Thanks to the untiring efforts of the other registrars, my anus was now slack and with a bit of effort I was able to take the mushroomed-shaped head inside me. His hands supported my bum cheeks as I slowly lowered myself down. Inch by inch Osbourne's column filled my rectum. I don't know how long it took but after an age I had most of him up my bum.
"Good boy!" he breathed. "Let me flip you over".
With that he arranged me doggy-style on the bed while he stood on the floor. His warm flesh stretched the walls of my rectum but, with the change in position, Osbourne was able to push on until I felt his pubic hair against my bum cheeks.
"You are so hot and tight", he marvelled and then gently lifted my left leg until it was resting on the desk. This manouver spread me right open again. Slowly Osbourne began to fuck me. I lost all track of time. All I was aware of was the registrar's mammoth organ thrusting inside my hot, slick chute.
For the first time in my young life I felt valued. I was doing something for another human being which was giving him intense pleasure. I felt Osbourne's warm hand wrap around my shrivelled up little diddle. He squeezed it and gave it a tug. But my body was still concerned about what was up my arse and refused to cooperate. He moved his hand until it was gently caressing my body. I could feel his hot breath fan the hairs on the back of my neck. I had never before felt so wanted.
Again, Osbourne's hand grasped my limp dick. He pulled the foreskin back and tried to bring the thing to life but without success.
"It's ok", I reassured him.
All the time, his own penis was giving me the fuck of my young life. It was actually quite peaceful kneeling there allowing Osbourne to have his way inside my fundament. He picked up the pace. It was hot in the small room and I felt his sweat drip on to my back.
I cannot say that a fucking from Osbourne was erotic or sensual, at least not yet. My limp cock was testimony to that. His massive pile-driver kept thrusting deep inside my shitter. Yet, I was thrilled to provide this service for my big friend. I was now starting to tire but the registrar seemed to have the stamina of a prize bull.
Suddenly, he began slapping my buttocks with his hand. His rigid member continued to probe my insides, without missing a beat.
The slaps, combined with the pummeling, had the effect of at last giving me an erection. Osborne reached under and felt it. He grunted his approval.
His big hands could have lit a fire in my backside but the slaps were light. Somehow, they had the effect of turning pain into pleasure. My prostate found itself and decided to join in. My arse and cock swelled with a glorious sensual feeling, a carnal smorgasbord of delight which left my senses reeling.
"I'm gonna blow", the big man said, breathlessly. He reached down and palmed my hard-on. We grunted together as our balls churned and I nearly fainted from the exquisite feeling of release. His fat torpedo fired load after load of spunk, coating the walls of my gut.
Osbourne collapsed on top of me. When he had recovered he pulled out of me with a plop. He cleaned us both up.
"Did I do you too hard?" he asked, anxiously.
"No, it was wonderful".
He looked at me with his big eyes shining.
"Dale, I can't begin to thank you".
The big man reached out and tousled my hair.
"One thing's for sure, the last thing you need now is for any money-grubbing surgeon to give you an 'anal stretch'.
"Well, how about you giving me another one? Say next Saturday?", I offered.
He hugged me tight and I was in heaven.