The Doctor Robusto 3: urine sample

After my rectoscopy with Dr. Robusto, I spent the week anxious to see him again. The fear had given way to a primitive attraction. The wait was a delicious torture.

As I remembered it, my cock got hard, like the marble I was cooking dinner on. It was hard, very hard. There were only 12 hours left until I saw him again.

Then my phone rang: "Hidden number". I never answered calls from unknown numbers, let alone hidden ones. However, my heart skipped a beat. In my inner self, I knew who it was, but I didn't answer. I had to give the bastard Doctor his due. After half an hour, it rang again: "Hidden number". I watched with indifference as the phone vibrated on the table while I was having dinner.

"No, you bastard," I thought. "If you want me to answer, have the balls to not hide behind a hidden number."

After an hour, the mobile phone rang for the third time: "Hidden number". This time I answered. Three was a good number: not too little, not too much. Enough to irritate but not enough to anger.

"Good evening, Angel," said the cavernous and educated voice on the other end.

"Doctor?" I asked with feigned surprise.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" His voice sounded deliciously like a recrimination.

"Do you call all your patients with a hidden number?" I asked with sarcasm.

"Speak to me formally. I'm your doctor," he grumbled irritably.

I took mental note of that detail: "the Doctor gets irritated if you use the informal 'you'". There was a silence. I heard the breathing of the stallion. I imagined how his vein swelled on his temple.

"Tomorrow morning, before you come to my office, stop by the laboratory first thing. I've decided to do blood and urine tests on you as well, so come on an empty stomach. I'm going to give you a good tune-up."

"A good tune-up...", I repeated to myself. His tone of voice made me feel like a bitch mare that they wanted in top condition for a stallion.

"Uh... Okay... I'll go down to the pharmacy now to get a sample jar."

"No need. I'll stop by your house before I go to the office to collect the sample myself." It wasn't a suggestion. "I want to make sure you do it right. Leave the door open and wait in bed."

"What the fuck had the bastard doctor said?!", my head voice told me. "Is he going to come to my house to make me pee in a jar?! It can't be. It must have been my filthy imagination."

"What... did you say?"

"What you heard. See you tomorrow at 7. And don't shower. Did you understand everything?" he asked before the evident bewilderment in my voice. The truth is that he seemed like a fucking retard who didn't even understand Forrest Gump on poppers.

"Yes, Doctor."

"Repeat it."

"You'll come tomorrow at 7 to personally collect a urine sample. Leave the door open. Wait in bed. Don't shower."

"Good boy."

And he hung up. I was left w...