Being Clinical With My Straight 18-Year-Old Friend

When I was 23, I had a 19-year-old girlfriend who was a true nymphomaniac. You'd think that would be a dream cum true, but no, she was too much for me. For instance, we'd have sex at 11pm, and she'd manage to get me to ejaculate twice, and then, she'd wake me at 3am wanting more. Sometimes, I'd send her home after an evening of sex, and then she'd just show up on my doorstep two hours later. I had a male friend who was 18 at the time, and very, very straight. He was religious, conservative, considered joining the army, played football, and talked about women, and especially sex with women constantly. You probably know people like that. He was also a virgin. We had played basketball together a number of times, and I think he considered me a worldly-wise mentor of sorts. I thought I'd do him a favor and pass off my nympho girlfriend to him, and he went for it, and so did she. So, a couple of days later, I figured he had lost his virginity, and asked him how it went. Being the rather uptight fellow he was, I was amazed when he started describing the details. But, there had been a problem. Oh, he got it up alright, but couldn't penetrate her. He said it hurt. I assumed he meant it hurt her, but no, it hurt him. I was a bit perplexed, so I asked him to explain. He couldn't really say anything more than it was a tight, kind-of-stinging feeling. I also got the feeling he was asking for my help. So I explained that sex isn't supposed to hurt, not a bit! I also recommended he see a doctor about it. He was aghast. No way could he present a problem with his penis to a doctor. I asked if he wanted to show me, and he was like, "Well, if you don't tell anyone, yes, I'd like to have you take a look and see if you can tell me what's wrong." Since my roommates were both out for the day, I had him pull down his shorts right in my living room. He did so hesitantly, but then he did. To my utter amazement, my conservative friend's crotch was shaved totally smooth. He explained that our mutual nympho friend asked him to do it. No surprise there, she had me do that too. Having seen a lot of penises and other things on the Internet, I pretty much saw the problem right away, or at least I thought I did. His foreskin was quite long, and came to a point, almost like a large female nipple, at the end of his dick. I wondered if he had phimosis. That would account for his problem. I couldn't really tell, so I had him lay down in my recliner, and started fooling around with his foreskin a bit. He asked like three times, whether this was gay. He knew damn well that I'm bisexual, but seemed very concerned about seeming 'gay' to me. He also apologized in advance in case he might spring a boner. I assured him that was not an issue, but still, he was all worried about getting hard in front of a guy. Interestingly, his face was beet red, from embarrassment, I guess. Unfortunately, for me to diagnose the problem, a boner was exactly what he needed. I told him so. That I thought the problem was abnormally tight foreskin which I had read about on the Internet at some point, but that being a electrical engineering major did not qualify me for knowing anything about male conditions, and had to test to see if I might be right. He said, "No way," and started to get out of the recliner while pulling his shorts up at the same time. I was OK with that. Whereas it might have been fun to play with his stuff a bit more, this was a young and good friend, not to be taken advantage of. Furthermore, with his strong anti-gay attitude, it might be bad news for him psychologically to do anything with him that he would consider gay. I mean, a guy like that, just having a boner in front of another guy, could set him of in a whorl of worry, fear and concern - an identity crisis, really. But, he didn't fully get out of the recliner, and pushed his shorts back down to his ankles. He then sheepishly said, "Do whatever you have to do. I can't go through life not being able to fuck!" His voice was quivering, like an eight-year-old who is about to cry. I asked if he was sure he didn't just want to go to a doctor. "No way." And his face turned even redder. "Well, Mike, you're going to need to get erect. This is not gay," I told him, "it's just a trusted friend taking a clinical look at your problem." He just sat there staring at me. I said, "Dude, play with yourself. Get that troubled thing of yours hard." So he started to masturbate a bit, and nothing happened. He stayed soft. He went on like that for a full two or three minutes. I excused myself into the kitchen so he could have some privacy. Returning five minutes later, he was still soft as over-cooked spaghetti. I told him I knew a sure-fire way to get erect. I mentioned that it is a technique girls have used on me, emphasizing the word "girls," figuring that would relieve some of the 'gayness' of it for him. He said "No," then in a barely audible voice, "OK." I reached out and started to lightly tickle his shaved, soft, droopy scrotum, which caused his soft penis to jump a bit, and his scrotum to start tightening up. There was a grimmace on his face. I couldn't quite tell if it was from embarrassment, ticklishness, or maybe he was enjoying the sensation. I worked my way up the shaft of his soft noodle, ending up at the frenulum, and stayed there with the most extremely light touch, just tickling his frenulum for well over a minute. That finally did the trick, and his magnificent cock started to harden fully. It was a rather large, white penis with large purple veins, and sure enough, still entirely covered with foreskin. Shortly after he was fully hard, he seemed to relax a bit. It was as if a corner had been turned. The hard part was over. He admitted to me that no man has ever seen him with an erection, and the first woman was the nympho, but that they had been in a very dark room. He then told me that he was mortified by the thought of me seeing him with a hardon, but that it had already started to normalize. That it was "kind of OK." whatever that means. I had to stay focused. I had a job to do. I had to figure out whether Mike actually had phimosis. Therefore, I reached out with the first fingers and thumbs of each hand and pulled his foreskin gently down, attempting to reveal the head of his penis. I got an immediate "ouch" from him, and stopped. I asked whether it hurt a little or a lot. He said, "A little." I pulled again, just a tiny bit harder, and he practically screamed. I was surprised, because with my own dick, it would take a lot more pressure on the foreskin to bring about any sort of pain at all. I couldn't imagine why it hurt him so much to just stretch it a bit, but it did. I had him pull his pants back up, over his still hard erection, and told him that he did in fact have phimosis. He asked me what the options were, as if I was a doctor. I could actually answer that, due to the recent chance reading I had done on SoloTouch. I told him there were three options. Number one: Just ignore it. The condition is not life-threatening, and won't get worse. He interrupted, "But, no fucking, ever, right?" I admitted that probably wasn't a good option. The second option would be surgery. I got a big, frantic "What's the third option," as soon as I mentioned circumcision. That left the third option: Stretching exercises. Evidently, many men have cured phimosis by gently stretching the foreskin every day. With that, we grabbed a couple of beers, I dropped a basketball DVD in the player, and we settled into more normal activities. A couple days later, I asked him whether he had started the exercises. He hadn't. I asked him whether this was important to him. It was. I asked him when he was going to start. He said he didn't really know how to do it. He then floored my when he asked whether I'd show him how. I explained that being circumcised, it wouldn't do any good for me to demonstrate, but that's what he wanted anyway. Without ceremony, I pulled down my pants, and started stroking my already half-hard penis to full erection. He, sitting in the chair next to me, got very big eyes, leaned far forward, and watched intently. That was somehow very hot. His face was literally a foot from my penis, and I loved the sensation of being watched. Once my dick was fully hard, I tried my best to pull my foreskin over the head of my penis, but couldn't do it. He was curious about the circumcision scar. That's the little brown ring around the shaft of my penis about an inch from the head. Then Mike did something I never in my life thought he'd do: He reached out, and gently put his fingertips on my circumcision scar. I think he did without thinking. He felt the texture for a moment, then pulled away as if he had received an electric shock. I think the shock was that he realized that he had just done something 'gay.' I didn't react one way or the other. I didn't want to let him know how much I enjoyed the brief touch, because I was aware of his homophobic issues. At that point, I started talking 'clinically' about the exercises again while doing my best to demonstrate on my own penis by pulling the skin of my shaft downward, making the head bulge and shine. But it was not nearly the same as what he needed to do, and I told him so. Without a word, he stood up, stepped out of his shorts and underwear, and sat back down with his legs spread, inviting me to demonstrate on him. And what was that? Sure enough, his penis was growing hard! But it wasn't fully hard yet. I just said "It needs to be hard for the exercise to do anything," and while I said it, I reached out, with thumbs and forefingers of both hands again, and gently started stroking his foreskin up and down. Compared to my tight skin, it felt quite nice to move skin that was so voluminous and loose on another guy's dick. Then, I pulled down just to the point where he winced a bit, and held his foreskin down for about thirty seconds before releasing it. I asked, "How was that?" I expected him to say either "it hurt," or "it was OK." Instead, he surprised me once again by saying, "It was nice." Nice? Woah, sounds like he enjoyed that! I then explained that the exercise needs to be done perhaps ten times in a row to have any real benefit. He told me that he really wanted the benefit, and as soon as possible, gesturing me to put my hands back on his dick. So, I pulled down again, noting that his penis was really, really hard now. And, after 30 seconds, I released it again. We repeated this cycle a couple more times, then it happened. I didn't really notice at first, probably because his head was still entirely covered by foreskin, but I felt a sort of pulsation in his penis, and in a moment, white cum was oozing out of the nipple-like tip of his foreskin. He leaned way back, clenched his fists, held his legs very straight and rigid and let out a slight moan. I found him some paper towels and let him recover from his ejaculation. I then tried to complete the series of ten cycles of the exercise, but he was finished. I couldn't get his penis hard again. Now, he knew how to do the exercises. A week later, after basketball, when the other guys had all left, I asked whether he had been doing the exercises. No, he hadn't. "Why not?" I practically yelled. "I don't know. It's just not the same if I try to do it myself. I don't seem to be able to allow myself to pull the foreskin fully down. It's not so much that it hurts. It just worries me somehow. It seems like it will work better if someone else does it." Well, I know a set up when I hear it! Of course I offered to help him out on a regular basis, and so, twice a week, he came around to my place, and we did the exercises. He ejaculated every time, and we seldom got all the way through ten reps. At first, he apologized all over the place when he came, as if I was somehow offended. After a while, he quit apologizing. As time went on, I started to feel I'd like something in return, but felt it would be out of place to ask. To my astonishment, one day, he asked if I needed anything. I told him that reciprocation would be nice for both of us. I decided to maintain the clinical atmosphere, even though he seemed to be outgrowing his homophobia quickly. I told him about testicle checks. He had never heard of it. I had to explain that guys our age have a possibility of getting lumps in their balls, and that we should check the balls out carefully periodically. Following his lead, I also said that I couldn't do it myself, claiming that I feared actually finding something too much. So, would he please do a testicle check on me? He was all for it, and I could see he was trying to hide his delight. So now both of us had stepped out of our shorts, and T-shirts too, as had become the practice with him. Neither of us made mention of the fact that I was already hard as a rock. He reached out, and clumsily started feeling my balls through my scrotum. My God, that felt good! At first, a couple of times he hit those sensitive spots where the epididimis joins the testicle, and I had to show him exactly where and how to squeeze. No better way than to demonstrate on him. I spent way too much time on the demonstration, feeling all around each testicle over and over again, but no one complained. Suddenly, he ejaculated through that tight little foreskin nipple of his. Without apology. After recovering, he started feeling my balls, which felt wonderful, but I didn't ejaculate that day. Let's cut this story short. I'll just tell you that months went by, and we were very careful to maintain our schedule. Three times a week, he came over to my place when the roommates were out, and we took care of each other's "medical" needs. All very clinical, of course. We didn't waste time talking about how ejaculations might not have been necessarily, well, necessary. In time, I ejaculated almost every session, as did he. We did talk about other medical concerns however, For instance, gluteal massage is a good thing for overall health, the prostate ought to be checked from time to time with a probe of a finger, the male nipples are sensitive and should be attended to, and so on. Of course all these things were added to our sessions. A year went by, and whereas Mike was going to attend a local community college, I got my degree, and had been hired by a firm in Bellevue, Washington. It was time to move on. The last time Mike and I had a session, the phimosis was entirely forgotten. In fact, it was no longer an issue. Mike and our nympho friend did manage to have painless sex a number of times, but after a while, she got to be too much for him, too. He admitted to me that he actually preferred our clinical sessions, and that he was going to try to find another guy who needed 'clinical sessions.' Maybe he could be the mentor this time. I guess Mike isn't feeling homophobic any more.