The only way to describe the sensation of hang-gliding is liberating. In my opinion, it is the closest that humans will ever get to unaided flying and I can't think of another activity that is more exhilarating - well, maybe just one. As with most life-threatening hobbies I partake in, I got into hang gliding on a dare from none other than Mr. Daring himself, Jake. As with everything he did, Jake soon grew bored with it, but I still enjoy it and hang glide whenever time allows.
I'd found a cool hang gliding center in New Zealand during an assignment and after I'd finished my obligations for the mag, I decided to go out for a fly. It was a perfect day for gliding - the skies were clear and the winds were just right. I rented a hang glider, signed all the waivers and nonsense, and set off with a few other members to their spot in New Plymouth.
The cliffs overlooked the beautiful blue waters of the Tasman Sea. I paused to take in the breathtaking view, breathed in the salty air, and then pushed off of the 200 precipice. My wings filled with air and, in no time, I was flying aloft the cool, morning breeze. By then, I'd been gliding for a few years and had become quite adept and daring at it. I'd learned to do a few flips and dives, but there was something about that flight that made me feel more alive. more daring. With my increased bravado, I executed a few more complicated maneuvers with favorable results.
I could have stayed up there forever, but the morning was wearing on and the club members were soon calling me back in. So, I found my target and made my slow descent back to Earth. My success in the air had made me careless and cocky, however, and I wasn't paying attention to my landing. I was coming in way too fast and the ground was rushing towards me. I tried to back off but it was too late and I hit the ground at a good 30 mph. I landed on my feet, which may sound like a good thing but, at that speed, it was disastrous. I felt the pain in my right leg immediately. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. My screams of agony brought the members running to my aid.
"What's the matter? Where does it hurt? Don't move!" I heard them scream. After that, everything was pretty much a blur. I remember a gurney, an ambulance, and a whole lot of pain. Call me a wimp, but by the time we arrived at the hospital, I thought I was going to pass out. They wheeled me into a room where a doctor was already waiting to see me.
He introduced himself as Dr. Rogers then started the usual checks to make sure I wasn't bleeding and that I wasn't in shock. After that, he started with his battery of questions. What happened? Where does it hurt? Does this hurt? How about this? I explained the situation while he poked and prodded at various spots on my body.
"It's my right leg, Doc. I think it's broken."
"Let me do the diagnosis please," he said, grabbing my right leg and moving it slightly. I screamed so loudly I probably woke the morgue residents. He looked at me with a grim expression and said, "I think it's broken."
He followed his prognosis with a clever grin. Smart ass! If I hadn't been in so much pain, I would have given him a piece of my mind, but all I could think about was making the hurt go away.
"We'll take a few x-rays just to make sure. Okay?"
I nodded and was whisked away to get some pictures taken. Sure enough, it was broken. in two places. I was rarely sick and I'd never broken anything before. Being the drama queen that I can be sometimes, you would have thought they'd diagnosed me with a rare, fatal disease and I only had a few days to live. I started bawling hysterically.
"There, there, Mr. Batista," Dr. Rogers said. "We can fix it. You won't be doing any hang gliding for a while, but you'll be as good as new in a few weeks. Just sit tight and I'll be right back to get that set."
I nodded again and he darted off. He came back a few minutes later with a tray of supplies.
"Swallow these," he said, offering me a couple of pills and a little paper cup. "It'll take the edge off while I set your bone and put the cast on."
I swallowed the pills. It was some pretty powerful shit. I was feeling good in short order and was able to relax while the doctor gently cared for my broken fibula. The feel of his soft hands against my skin, the calm melody of his beautiful New Zealand tenor, and the oddly soothing smell of antiseptic were enough to put me into a trance-like stupor. He struck up some small talk - none of which I can recall - but it was just nice to hear his voice. Before I knew it, he was all done.
"There ya are, mate. Right as rain. You're a right healthy bloke and the break wasn't too terribly bad. Give it four weeks then have your doctor check it out."
"Actually. I was planning on staying in New Zealand for a while. Maybe I'll just extend my stay and come back to let you remove the cast. Is that okay?"
"Sure. You're a pretty good patient; I wouldn't mind you coming back and seeing me," he said. He patted me on my thigh and gave me a wink.
My skin tingled with excitement when I felt his warm hand on my upper leg. I ignored my overactive hormones and smiled. "Thanks, Dr. Rogers."
"Call me Quinn. that's what my regular patients call me."
Dr. Quinn? I tried not to laugh at the pop culture reference that his name evoked. I don't think he would have gotten it anyway. He gave me a list of do's and don'ts for the next few weeks and set an appointment for me to come back for a follow-up. I thanked him again and hobbled out of the hospital.
I spent the next month putzing around New Zealand and Australia, taking in some of the tamer activities the Lands Down Under had to offer. It's amazing how much attention I got with that cast on. Everyone, men and women, rushed to assist me with one thing or another. A few of them even passed me their phone number and told me to give them a call if I needed more personal assistance. I didn't take any of them up on their offers. I wasn't feeling very sexual with my leg in a cast.
Anyway, my required downtime passed quickly. I followed the doctor's rules to the letter and it was time for my follow up. The broken leg wasn't as much of an inconvenience as I'd expected, but I was definitely ready to have that damned cast off. I went back to the hospital and, after I had my x-rays taken, I went to the examining room and waited for the good Dr. Quinn. It wasn't a long wait, but it felt like an eternity on that stupid lounge/table covered with the annoying, crinkly, paper. Eventually, Dr. Quinn strolled in with a cart full of equipment and a large envelope.
"Okay Mr. Batista, let's take a gander at your x-rays, shall we?"
He hung the photos on the lamp boards and flipped the switch. The light flickered to life, revealing the side-by-side views of my leg bones.
"The picture on the right is your leg four weeks ago. This one here is your leg today. all healed up," he pointed out. "So what's say we cut this cast off?"
"Yes please."
I watched nervously as Dr. Quinn sawed through the cast. I knew the blade wasn't supposed to cut flesh, but I had my doubts. Every now and then, he'd look up to see me grimace in fear and he'd chuckle.
Now that I wasn't in excruciating pain I noticed things about Dr. Quinn that I hadn't noticed before - like his deeply set dimples; and his beautiful dark blue eyes partially concealed by his long, reddish-brown lashes; and his neatly trimmed moustache and goatee that framed his soft, rosy lips and a flawlessly white smile; and his broad shoulders that filled out his white medical coat. Yep, with the veil of pain lifted, I saw the good doctor for the beefy stud he was and I liked what I saw. I eyed him like a slab of barbeque ribs as he cut through the last inch of plaster and peeled the cast away from my leg.
"What the hell happened to my leg?!" I screamed. My leg looked like something from a sci-fi flick with its misshapen form and pasty gray complexion.
"It's perfectly natural. How do you think you'd look if you didn't get any sun, air, or exercise for four weeks?"
"A whole hell of a lot better than that, I hope."
He laughed. "Don't worry. This leg will be just as pretty as the other one in no time."
"You must think I'm vain," I said, picking up on his comment.
"No, not at all. But if you were, you'd be well within your rights. You're a good looking fellah, and you should be proud of your appearance," he said with a warm smile. Then he held my leg in his hand and started to gently squeeze and lift and turn it. "Does any of this hurt?" he asked.
"No," I answered.
His hands crept up my leg. "How about this?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
His hands were now feeling on my upper thigh, far away from the break and dangerously close to my sleeping cock. "How about this?" he asked, his hand gently squeezing my thigh and his thumb accidentally slipping underneath my shorts.
"N-no," I stammered. Everything felt real good - too good, actually. His meandering examination had caused my sleeping beast to awaken and it was already forming a noticeable bulge in my khaki shorts. I hoped and prayed that he wouldn't notice. Even though I'd been eyeballing and lusting after him for the better part of twenty minutes, I never planned on acting on my desires. It just seemed. creepy.
"You're as good as new," he declared, seemingly unaware of my newly arisen affliction.
"And free to go?" I asked, eagerly jumping off the examining table.
"No, not quite."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I still have to take your vitals. to make sure you're in good health before I release you."
"Is this really necessary?" I asked.
"Afraid so," he answered, holding the thermometer up to my lips.
I opened my mouth and let him slide the glass tube under my tongue. While that was warming up he asked me to unbutton the top two buttons on my shirt. I obeyed then felt the cold metal of the stethoscope pressed against my chest. He slid it around, trying to find the best spot to listen to my heart. As he did, his pinky repeatedly brushed against my nipple and, true to its nature, it hardened immediately.
"Your heart is racing," he commented. "You're not nervous, are you?"
"A little," I mumbled with the thermometer still stuck in my mouth.
"Don't be. You're in good hands." He smiled and continued to listen to my heartbeat.
I knew I was in good hands - that's what I was worried about. He slid his hand out of my shirt and tugged the thermometer out of my mouth.
"100," he observed. "A little hot, but nothing to worry about."
He went on to check my blood pressure which was just slightly higher than my norm, but still very healthy. Dr. Quinn jotted down the results then asked me to stand up.
"You're not going to do a hernia check, are you?"
"I don't think that will be necessary," he answered with a laugh then sat on a stool beside me.
He was now at eye level with my overexcited dick that was making quite an impressive show in my khakis if I do say so myself. He considered it for a moment then looked up at me.
"On second thought, maybe a hernia check is in order," he amended. "If you'd be so kind as to remove your shorts and underwear."
"Dead puppies and kittens," I chanted to myself as I nervously unbuckled my belt. My efforts to deflate my raging boner were futile, however, and there was only so much I could do to prolong the act of removing my shorts. I took a deep breath, hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers and slid my shorts and underwear down to my ankles.
"Sorry," I mumbled as I straightened up and showed Dr. Quinn my eager poker. It peeked out from beneath my shirttails and stood a scant inch from the doctor's nose.
"No need to apologize," he said. "You're not the only patient who's ever had an erection while I've examined them."
"Yeah, but."
My words were cut off by the feeling of Dr. Quinn's hand squeezing and tugging on my nuts. "Cough," he commanded. I did. He squeezed and fondled my sac some more. "Again," he ordered. I coughed again and he fondled my boys some more and squeezed them tighter. "One more time," he instructed and I obeyed. He let go off my balls and wrapped his fingers around my throbbing shaft.
"What are you checking for now?" I asked lazily - not that I gave a damn.
"Erectile dysfunction," he answered frankly.
"Yeah? Well, is it working right?"
He gave my dick a few slow strokes. "Everything seems to be working just fine, but I don't want to be too hasty in my judgment. perhaps I should conduct a more thorough examination."
"Whatever you say, Doc."
I leaned back against the examination table and let Dr. Quinn have his way with my dick. He examined it like he said he would. His eyes were permanently fixed on my pulsating monster as he slowly masturbated me, and I thought I could see drool forming at the corner of his mouth. His tight grip bordered on painful but, mostly, it felt fucking incredible. His hand glided up and down my shaft, pulling the loose skin over the head then exposing the inflated tip to the cool air.
"Do you suffer from premature ejaculations?" he asked. His face inched closer to my hard prick.
"I haven't had any complaints so far," I quipped.
"Very good," he said, still staring at my dick. "I think you should know that this examination may take a while. and it may get pretty intense at times."
"Fine by me."
He smiled happily at my answer then cautiously gave my cock a quick lick. I watched him roll the pre-cum around inside his mouth, appreciating its sweet and salty flavor, before squeezing out another drop to taste. Grabbing my dick by the base, he slapped it against his lips before popping it into his mouth. His mouth was HOT like a steam oven. I'd never felt anything like it before. Dr. Quinn alternated between swabbing the three or four inches lodged in his mouth and sucking on it like a straw.
"Doc, you're one hell of a cocksucker!"
He was too busy running his test to respond but his increased sucking let me know that he appreciated my compliment. The ginger haired physician swallowed another inch or two of my cock then started bobbing up and down on it. He made a sexy gurgling sound every time my meat banged the back of his throat. Each time, I thought I'd dump my load down his throat, but somehow I managed to hold back the flood.
Dr. Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out a latex glove. I knew where this was going long before I heard the rubber snap. I hopped onto the examining table while he pulled a small tube out of his other pocket. He pinched out a generous glob of clear paste onto his latex-covered fingers and I hoisted my legs over his shoulder.
All at once, his greasy finger slid up my ass, my dick slid down his throat, and I was treated to a double dose of carnal pleasure. His finger went straight for my prostate and my cock immediately gained another inch in length.
"Unnnnnnh! Hell yeah! Fiddle with my ass doc!"
I wiggled my hips trying to get more of his digit up my ass. He did me one better and slid two more fingers up my greedy hole.
"Oooooh fuck!" I screamed as Dr. Quinn jabbed and tickled my G-spot with all three fingers. It felt so good! Before long, he had me climbing the walls. My hips were a good half a foot off the examining table and I was thrusting wildly into his throat. I was going to pop my nut real soon.
"I'm gonna cum, Doc, and it's gonna be huge!"
Doc intensified his dick slurping and ass poking, determined to take my load by any means necessary. And boy was he going to get it. My body tensed up and an intense shiver ran down my spine as I unloaded a torrent of spunk down the good doctor's thirsty gullet. There was about a month's worth of pent up cum gushing out of my dick, but he swallowed it down as quickly as I could pour it. When my nuts had pumped out the last of their creamy load, my cock's powerful throbbing had subsided and I had plopped back down on the table, Dr. Quinn pulled his fingers out of my ass and let my dick flop out of his mouth.
He stood up and peeled off the latex glove. It looked like he was done and was getting ready to leave, but I wasn't done yet. Usually I'm not that interested in being fucked after I cum, but my ass was itching to be filled. I looked at the bulge in the doctor's pants and knew exactly what I wanted to be filled with.
"Not leaving so soon, are you Doc?" I asked, fingering my hole like a crazed sex fiend.
"I'd love to stick around and play, but I have other patients that need my help, mate."
"But, I don't think you've finished my exam, Dr. Quinn."
Before he had a chance to reject me again, I grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He joined me in my game of tonsil hockey and, confident that he wouldn't try to get away, I let go of his tie. My hand wandered down the front of his body until it came to rest on the hefty package contained within his dress slacks. He moaned into the kiss and his hand covered mine. Together, we fondled his crotch, getting it worked up. Medical pretenses were no longer necessary - we both knew what was going on and we both wanted it. And I wanted it now!
I unzipped his pants and fished around inside for his dick. Luckily for me, the doctor wore boxers and it took little effort to free his snake from its cage. Dr. Quinn was packing heat! His dick was a good ten inches long (maybe longer) and pretty thick too. It jutted proudly from the fly of his pants and was hard as steel. Now that his cock was free, Dr. Quinn wasted no time in putting it to use. He brusquely threw my legs in the air so that my ankles were resting on his shoulders, and stuffed his poker into my horny hole. He had done a good job lubing and opening me up, but I still felt every inch of his brutal invasion. It was a good hurt. really.
He stifled my moans with a kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth as his dick continued to ravage my ass. He was animalistic with his fucking which was exactly what I had been hoping for. The only thing on his mind was plowing my ass with his fat cock until he dumped his Aussie seed deep into my bowels. I could live with that.
The sensation of his dick stretching my hole and digging into my stomach was amazing. The feeling of his linen pants brushing against my ass and his silk tie tickling the underside of my re-hardened cock reminded me that the doctor was so eager to fuck me that he hadn't bothered to undress; the thought of being so irresistible was more than my little sex-craved mind could handle.
"Fuck me, Doc!" I wailed, breaking away from his never-ending kiss. "Cram that big dick up my ass like you mean it."
Dr. Quinn withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained in my ass then slammed his fat, ten-inch beast back into my rectum. The force left me seeing stars and, just as I came back to my senses, he did it again. I hadn't been fucked in a while, and it had been even longer since someone had claimed my ass so forcefully. The urgency with which he was fucking me made me believe it had been a while for him too. I closed my eyes, tilted my head back and appreciated the fact that I could put an end to his dry spell.
Dr. Quinn fucked me and fucked me and then fucked me some more. Not only did he have the dick of a bull, he had the stamina of one too. Not that I was complaining. But even he couldn't last forever and, after a good 30 minutes of ass pounding, I felt the doctor's body tighten and his thrusts shorten. His face grew bright red and contorted into a menacing grimace, announcing his approaching orgasm.
With a savage growl, Dr. Quinn emptied the contents of his balls into my guts. I must have been right about how long it had been for the doctor because his load was huge. He dumped gallon on top of gallon of spooge into my aching bowels. So much that it dripped out of my loose hole, down my crack and onto the crinkly, white paper. Dr. Quinn's cock sloshed around inside my sloppy cumhole. That was enough to set me off. My dick jerked and spat out another thick load, just as large as the one before all over the good doctor's blue silk tie.
We were paralyzed with exhaustion and satisfaction but eventually found the energy to uncouple and get dressed. My ass felt very empty without Dr. Quinn's huge dick inside it. I probably could have gone another round but figured I'd already taken enough of the doctor's time - time he could have spent healing other patients.
Dr. Quinn removed his cum-drenched tie and tossed it in the waste bin. "You seem to be in excellent condition. You're free to go."
"I don't know, Doc. This right shoulder's been bothering me lately. Maybe I should schedule an appointment for tomorrow so you can check it out before I go back home."
"That sounds like a pretty serious injury. I don't think we should wait that long," he said, trying to keep a straight face. "I don't usually do this, but perhaps I can arrange a house call. say. tonight."
"That'll work." I wrote down my hotel information on the doctor's clipboard and told him I'd see him later that night. I planned on giving him a good dose of MY medicine.