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April 28, 2017
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A Love-Hate Story

Closer to Jesus

I was more than a little embarrassed standing in Dr. Chunit’s waiting room. Back and forth, forth and back I paced. The people in there were all watching me, waiting for me to sit down. Ha! Not on their pathetic little lives. If I sat down, I’d push that damn thing in even deeper.

They should have let me into see the doctor right away, it being an emergency. But, no! “What’s the nature of the emergency?” asked the receptionist. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, blond hair all bunned up, foggy brown eyes that just stared out at everything and saw nothing. Her lips were very thin, though she painted on extra bits around her mouth with bright red lip gloss. And, like all of these doctor’s playthings, she had on one of those tight one-piece nurse’s outfits – brilliant white, skirt cut off just over the panty line, top dropped down to the nipple’s edge. The whole time we talked, I just kept staring at her chest, waiting for one of her nipples to peek-a-boo out. Yeah, I’m a sick pervert. But, that day I had a right to stare.

“Never mind that. That’s between me and Dr. Chunit. Now go tell him I need to see him, now!”

She inhaled deep causing her chest to stretch out to its maximum. Damn, the nipples were still hidden. Then she told me, “Mr.Hocares, I can’t tell the doctor it’s an emergency unless I know that it’s an actual emergency.”

I could feel it burrowing deeper in me. “Goddamn it! Fine, I’ll wait.”

After twenty minutes, little miss peek-a-boo finally calls my name. She leads me to a room and all the way down the hall. I just kept watching that huge ass of hers slide back and forth, forth and back. I bet she could have gotten two of them up in there.

I didn’t have to wait long in the examining room. Dr. Chunit probably couldn’t wait to find out what the pervert who wouldn’t sit down thought an emergency was.

“Hello Mr. Hocares. I’m Dr. Chunit.” He held out his hand. I didn’t take it. Hey, I knew where it had been.

“Yeah right, hi. Look. Dr. Oroboy is off golfing somewhere and his secretary said to go to you.”

“Dr.Oroboy, yes, he’s a fine doctor. He’s told me a lot about you on the golf course.”

“Jesus, whatever happened to confidentiality? Don’t you guys got better things to talk about than my ass while you’re putting on the green?”

“No, Mr. Hocares, we don’t usually talk shop. But your history makes for some good laughs.”

“Yeah right. Look, are you gonna help me or what?”

“I don’t know what the problem is.”

Shit, he had me there. So, I dropped my pants and shorts,climbed up on that examining bed-table, rolled on to my stomach, and thrust my ass up in the air at Dr. Chunit’s face.

“My goodness, your girlfriend put that in you?” I heard him say.

“Jesus, Dr. Oroboy doesn’t leave out any details. When does he actually play golf?”

I heard the snap of latex gloves being put on. “Actually, he is quite a good golfer. He shot an 81 just last Saturday. Ok, just let me get the retractors in place.”

I could feel my asshole ripping apart as Dr. Chunit locked his metal shoehorns into place.

“Ouch!” I screamed.

“Mr. Hocares, I would have thought you would be used to this by now, from what I have heard.”

“No, Doc. You never get used to this.”

I felt a long metal rod enter and scrape along my colon.

“So, tell me how this happened.”

“You’ve talked to Oroboy. You already know how it damn well happened.”

“Well, yes. But this is beyond anything he has told me about: scissors, beer bottles,batteries, and, oh yes, a travel alarm clock. But this?” He sounded like an archeologist who just opened an untouched Egyptian tomb.

“Yeah.” I said, “and pens, and dildos, and bananas, a roll of pennies, a Mr. T action figure,souvenir baseball bat (not far though), champagne cork,flashlight—“

“Still turned on, if I heard right,” interrupted Dr. Chunit.

“Yeah,” I continued, “tube of toothpaste, melon baller, turkey baster,knitting needle (that almost killed me), black Ferragamo fuck me pump, perfume bottle, and, my absolute favorite, her damn diaphragm.”

Laughing hysterically, the Doc let go of his tools and stepped back. I must have looked the Christmas card picture: a bare-assed middle aged man, butt in the air, and enough metal things sticking out it looked like a make-shift tv antenna.

Doc was laughing so hard he could barley get out the words, “I am surprised there has not been a gerbil or a hamster.”

“Hell no, that would be disgusting.” I said this in such an honest and straightforward voice he stopped laughing.

“Right,” was all he dared say. He was probably afraid I would explain. My logic is no animals. It’s quite simple really. I don’t want anything that can think for itself up my ass. It’s bound to start chewing on a bit of intestine, or decide to take a dump, or move in, get married, have kids, build a swimming pool, and then die right after the last mortgage payment is sent to the bank.

The Doc got a hold of his tools again and got back to work. “I have heard about all these things before, Mr. Hocares. But this. This thing here,” he banged it with one of his fish hooks to emphasize what he was referring to. He continued, “This has got to have a special story to it. This makes no sense. Actually, none of the other things make sense, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined.”

He was right there. I didn’t really want to tell him the story. But,I know he would tell everyone on the golf course what he found and I didn’t want those sick bastards using their perverted minds to create their own stories. So, I scratched my balls (it’s easy with no pants on) and told him.

“Ok. I suppose you already know, thanks to Dr. Oroboy, that Jill gets off on probing my ass with things.”

“Who is Jill?”asked Dr. Chunit.

“Jill’s the psychotic bitch I live with. Anyway, she got into sticking things up men’s holes from her ex-husband. She was married to him for five years, all perfectly normal. Then, one day, they’re all naked and getting it on and he takes out a carrot (I have no idea from where), and says to Jill, ‘Baby, put this in my ass.’ And they’re both probably drunk as hell. So, she does it without even batting an eye.

“The next time they’re going at it, he pulls out one of those shake-it-up-and-it-snows globes. Again, I don’t know from where. And he says to Jill, ‘Stick this up my ass, baby.’ This time she freaks out a bit and asks him why. And he just tells her, ‘Cause I like it, baby.’ So she does.

“This goes on for a few years. Finally, the guy figures out he’s gay and leaves Jill. So, she’s all alone and meets me. Turns out, after so many years humping a fag,she’s gotten to like sticking things up guys’ asses. Hell,she can’t even get in the mood unless she’s got a pen in her hand or something.”

“Mr. Hocares, Dr. Oroboy has already told me this,” the Doc interrupted.

So, I told him, “Yeah, well I just wanted to make sure he told it right. Can’t have him making things sound sick or something.

“Anyway, this morning I wake up, in the mood, and reach over for Jill. She pushes my hand away and says, ‘Not now.’ Pissed off, I open my eyes and see that she’s watching one of those tv priests–”

“Televangelist,” corrected the Doc.

“Yeah right. Anyway, the stretch in the elastic on my shorts is telling me that ‘Not now’ is not an acceptable answer. So I say to her, ‘What the hell do you mean you’re not in the mood? Turn off that fucking set and do your real God given duty.’

“‘Why don’t you go fuck yourself,’ is what she tells me. I didn’t want to get into an argument so goddamn early in the morning. So, I get up, go to the bathroom, take a shit,think about jerking off, don’t, take a cold shower, and walk back into the bedroom. And she’s still watching that damn religious garbage. So—Ouch! Watch it Doc.”

“Sorry, it slipped,” was all he had to say.

“Fine. Anyway, she’s watching nothing on tv and the Bears game is on. I go over to change the channel and that bitch nearly takes my hand off with her foot.

“‘What the hell you do that for?” I ask her.

“‘I am watching this,’ she says.

“‘Fuck this trash, the Bears are on. They’re playing the Saints and I got twenty bucks riding on those lousy Chicago bastards,’ I tell Jill.

“‘I am watching this,’ is all she says.

“‘Fuck you, Jill. Won’t give me no piece, won’t let me watch the game. Hell, why am I still living with you?’

“Now she gets all emotional: tears flooding her face, hand all shaking, lower lip quivering like strawberry Jell-O. Typical woman, you know. But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t do anything. She just stares at the fucking tv preacher. And I can’t stand it so I start to walk out to the kitchen. The next thing I know something cracks into the back of my head. The bitch threw the remote at me. Before I can even bend over to pick it up or say something, she rushes past me and says, ‘Watch your damn game. I hope the Angels win.’

“So, I pick up the remote, click on the game, and scream out to her, ‘That’s the Saints not the Angels you fucking bitch!’ She doesn’t respond. So, I lie down on the bed and watch the game.”

“When does she put this,” again Dr. Chunit tapped it with a hook, “in here?”

“Will you stop playing with it and get it out! Jesus. I’m being patient with you, so grant me the same damn courtesy.

“Anyway, it’s the third quarter and the Bears are winning16-14.”

“Are you winning your bet?”interrupted the Doc.

“No. I took the Bears at minus five and a half. I needed them to score more.

“Anyway, Jill comes back into the room, goes to the bathroom, and comes out and says, in a fake husky voice, ‘Ya winning big boy?’

“I look over at her,because that voice just sounded funny, and she’s all whored out in a black silk teddy, black fishnet stockings held up by bright red garter belts, and black stiletto heels. Damn she looked good. I’m more horny at that moment than I was when I woke up. I am so turned on I can’t say anything.

“She slowly strolls up to the bed, zig zagging back and forth, forth and back across the room. She gets to the bed, straddles one of the corners, and asks me, ‘You still want to watch your ball game?’

“Yeah right, Doc. Like I can think about football now. So I say to her, ‘Hell no! I’m looking to play anew ball game.’

“‘We won’t need this then,’ she says as she gets off the bed and moves over to the tv,flicks it off just as the Saints pick up a fumble at the fifty.

“‘Yeah, fuck the Angels,’ I tell her. ‘Get that ass of yours over here.’

“She climbs one the bed and goes right to work. Kissing me all over, fondling everything, all that great stuff. And I ain’t being selfish. My hands are working too. Rubbing this and squeezing that. I’m so ready I want to skip the usual ass business. So, I try to mount her, but she won’t have any of that and pushes me off.

“‘Come on doll. I’m ready to go now,’ I tell her.

“‘You know I’m not. You know what I want. You know what I need,’ she says.

“‘Damn it,’ I think to myself, ‘Why can’t we just fuck like normal people?’ But thinking doesn’t do any good. So,I roll over on my stomach and spread.”

“Just like now,” said the Doc.

“Yeah right. Except I don’t plan on getting off with you.

“Anyway, she’s rubbing my butt cheeks, occasionally probing my hole with her finger to stretch it out a bit. Her ex taught her that one. This goes on for a few minutes and I’m waiting,like a good bastard, for her to shove the toy of the day in me. But, she just keeps rubbing my cheeks and fingering my hole. Now I start to say something when, out of fucking left field she says, ‘Honey, do you believe in God?’

“‘What?’ is all I can say.

“‘Do you take Jesus Christ as your savior?’

“I just exploded on her, ‘What the hell are you talking about?!! Honest, Jill, you’ve been watching that religious tv shit too much. It’s got your brain all twisted up. And why the fuck do you ask me this crap now? I want to fuck, not pray.’

“‘Jesus died an agonizing death for you. He died so you could watch your football game. Jesus died so you could screw. Jesus died for all those things you love to do,’ she tells me.

“‘Bullshit! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You haven’t a damn clue. Fuck Jesus.’

“Then Jill screams, ‘No, you fuck Jesus!’ The next thing I know, I’m being crucified by that thing there in my ass. Now I don’t know where she got it from, but that cross was now jammed right up inside me, t-side first.

“‘Ouch! What the fuck was that you whore?’ I yell at her,because at the time I didn’t know what she had put in me.

“‘Now you can suffer like he did,’ she answers.

“‘What? Like who did what?’

“‘Like Jesus did for you, for us.’

“‘You’re crazy, you know that, I tell her. ‘You are a fucking nut, Jill.’

“She doesn’t say a thing. She just gets up and walks into the bathroom.”

“Got it,” interrupted Dr. Chunit.

“About time,” I said.

“Now I just need to sew up the badly torn areas and you can go, Mr. Hocares.”

“Yeah right.”

The Doc got his thread and needle and started to patch me up.

“Then what happened?” asked the Doc like one of those old lady gossips who sit in groups knitting sweaters.

“Nothing really,” I told him. “I pull up my shorts, throw on a pair of loose pants, a shirt, socks, shoes, turn on the game, Bears won by three, I’m out twenty bucks, call Oroboy, and you know the rest.”

“Oh,” said Dr Chunit. He sounded disappointed. What else did he want? Jesus to come alive in my ass, chew up a bit of intestine, take a dump, move in, get married, have kids, build a pool, and then die right before my next bowel revelation?

Finally, Dr. Chunit finishes. As I put my shorts and pants on, the Doc asked me,“Excuse me, Mr. Hocares, but do you believe in God?”

I thought about it for a moment. I actually seriously thought about it. Then, I told the Doc, “I’m not sure. But I’ll tell you one thing: I feel closer to Jesus now than I ever have before. If he can deal with hanging on a cross, so can I.”

Dr. Chunit just smiled. He walked me out to the waiting room. As I reached the exit, I looked over my shoulder and saw the Doc standing behind the receptionist. Her nipples were still hiding. But, the Doc must have been rubbing her ass back and forth, forth and back, because her nipples were attempting to rip our of that tight white fabric. As I walked out the door and headed home to Jill, I thought to myself,“That’s good enough for me.”

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