The ring arrived the day before her birthday. Five years ago tomorrow I had given her a wedding ring and the plan this year was to give her carte blanch at the best spa in town and take her to our favourite restaurant. Because she is sexually confident and imaginative, I had planned something extra for after dinner. This morning, before my wife went for her treatment, the ladies at the spa had removed every hair on my body, including the pubic hair. As scary as that sounded the worst part was the under arm hair. Anyway, the most unusual gift was actually worn by me. I had ordered a cock ring.

Because the ring arrived from the online catalogue house the day before our anniversary, it seemed like a good idea to try it on and get used to it while my wife was at work. It was about 8 pm and I knew although she often worked late she was only thirty minutes away. Freddie and Eddie, the online store that sold the ring, had plenty of information about how to figure out my size, put it on, and use it. Putting it on seemed easy enough, just pass one testicle at a time through the ring, then bend the penis over, lead it through the ring, and pull through the other side. It reminded me of sewing, but with a really large needle. The finish on the ring was satin smooth; so I decided to forgo the recommended lube. That was a big mistake. The first testicle seemed to barely pass through the ring. The second was a piece of cake since it simply slid through the scrotum till side by side with its brother. However, as can often happen, the penis became a problem. As smooth as the ring is, my penis was relatively dry and needed the lube as recommended by the website. This was discovered as folds of skin began to pinch about half way through the loop. Because I was over halfway through I continued to pinch and fold and push. A bad idea I guess, but that is what I did.

As things began to relax I noticed that there was no real damage, only a few red spots that might turn into bruises. However, the ring felt pretty nice as it held itself against my body. It was actually pretty tight, although not uncomfortably so. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had to eventually get it off. At this point my penis was feeling pleasantly full and heavy, and although not erect, as it was at least partially filled with blood. That sensation, along with my pulse against the ring, might have felt pleasant except for the panic that was welling up in me. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror not as a naked Adonis, but as an blacksmith’s Tavern puzzle made of meat. I needed to get this thing off, and now.

Terror gripped me as I began to think alternatively of going to the basement to saw the ring off with a hacksaw and reporting to the doctor’s office with a bad case of cock ring claustrophobia. Common sense prevailed and I called a doctor.

“You’re lucky you caught me. So is there a problem?”

There were several problems, not the least of which was that Dr. Macbeth is a woman. A beautiful woman. An intelligent woman. A sophisticated woman. I hoped she was also mechanically inclined.

“Yes.” I deadpanned, and explained what had happened.

“I can meet you at the office in twenty minutes.”

Except for a long pause where I thought momentarily that she had either hung up or muted the telephone to muffle her peals of laughter, she was very calming and professional about the situation as I told her. She said I should come straight to her office. Although there was probably nothing to worry about she thought it would be best to meet there instead of going to the emergency room. The thought that a syringe might be required to remove the ring weighed heavily on me as I took the taxi to her building. Dr Macbeth is a tall, very slender woman of Czech extraction. An accomplished ball room dancer, she is very graceful and athletic. Tending toward European fashions that suited her gazelle-like build and fair skin, she also had very dark brunette hair, full lips, and almost coal black eyes. The ring seemed to be tightening as I neared the office.

I took the elevator up the office tower to her office. The hall was empty and her office dark through the glass door. Yet, she was waiting for me in the reception area and unlocked the door to let me in.

Her hair was up in a tight bun and she had on a little more makeup than I would have expected: dark eyeliner and red lipstick. She had on a black sheath dress.

It was obvious she had just come from dancing but I asked anyway, “Where have you been?”

“There is a competition next month and I wanted to try on some costumes at the studio to see which theme I wanted.” Her dress seemed to enjoy its job as it cupped her rear and clung to her legs until it ended mid thigh of her long, well-toned legs. She showed delicate knees and ankles highlighted by well formed calves. I complemented her on her black high heels.

“Tell me again what the problem is.” I explained the problem. “Come into the exam room and let’s have a look.”

The waiting area was a very nice room with comfortable modern furniture as becomes a high end medical practice. There is a low wall with some modern art and interesting stones that acts as a divider from the receptionist desk and the main waiting area. The main waiting area had some comfortable chairs, couches, and lounges and one wall of windows that extended floor to ceiling and wall to wall. The view was of the city skyline that included the river and harbour. This time of night the view of the lighted bridges and towering buildings was spectacular. The silence of the room seemed to exaggerate the activity of the lights of the planes, trains, ships, and automobiles moving through the city.

By contrast the examination room was not just sterile, but full of graphic illustrations of the various ailments that can afflict the body. From various kinds of arthritis to clogged arteries, large illustrations helpfully showed human bodies stripped of all inconvenient flesh to emphasize their afflictions. The posters were well designed marketing tools with the subjects frozen in perpetual, lipless smiles and lidless wide eyed gazes that seemed to demand your attention for their vitally important subjects.

“Let’s see it,” she said, as she donned latex gloves that snapped me back from the lecture of the cadavers.

I mumbled something cooperative and began to remove my shirt. “You can keep that on, if you want. Can you just lower you slacks?” I unbuckled my pants and dropped them, along with my underwear while trying to appear nonchalant. “Could you sit up on the examination table, please?” Although my pants were around my ankles I managed to hop gracefully onto the cold papered surface of the table after only three or four tries. Her full red lips pursed as she contemplated my predicament. An eyebrow raised, her head cocked ever so slightly. “Did you remove your pubic hair before or after you became entangled?”

“Before,” I answered. “It was supposed to be an anniversary gift.” Realizing too late how pathetic that sounded.

“You managed to get this ring on rather tightly.” I explained how the instructions told to size it, get it on and that I had followed all the instructions except that I had not used any lubricant as suggested. Pinched and panicky, I had pulled it on and now had no idea how to get it off.

“You seem to almost have an erection. If you ejaculate, your penis may go flaccid and be easier to pull out.” She touched it with her gloved hands and it flinched involuntarily. “Yes, I think that will work. Are you comfortable in here?”

“Not really. The flayed bodies make me nervous,” I pointed at the posters.

“Then take off you clothes and put this on,” she handed me a hospital gown and slippers, “and we’ll find a place you can relax.” I stripped off all my clothes, even my shoes and socks, donned the gown and slippers and follower her back to the waiting area.

Taking some towels from a cupboard, she led me over to the area near the window of the spectacular view and to a narrow leather lounge that was deeply curved to elevate the head and knees. The lounge faced the wonderful view and the night was so clear even the stars competed with the harbour lights for brightness. She laid a couple of towels on the lounge and asked me to sit.

“Let me see how things are going.” She raised my gown and I could not see. “You may be able to relax without this. Sit up.” She removed the gown. Completely naked now, except for the ring, I was seated on the lounge with my feet on either side of it. I glanced around nervously. “Lay back and let me see what’s going on here.”
My penis was getting very firm, although I would not yet call it erect. She took it in one hand and laid it back on my stomach. She inspected the ring, moving it around all the while asking if this hurt or that hurt. No, it actually felt pretty good, but I was at a loss to see how it was supposed to come off. “You need to relax or we will have to go to the hospital and get it cut off.” I suppose that was intended to calm me. “She pulled and gently squeezed my testicles. No, that did not hurt either. Not at all.

Now my penis was erect. Reclined on the lounge, my penis arced firmly above my belly but did not touch although a tiny bead of pre-ejaculate dripped into my navel. Dr. Macbeth placed her hand under my penis and hefted it slightly. Its pleasant fullness weighed against her hand. “I think we are close,” she observed. “Let’s help things along.” She snapped off the gloves and dropped them to the floor. The noise startled me as if she had announced that she had removed her gloves at the top of her voice.

Quite suddenly she stepped across the lounge and straddled my lap. Body heat radiated from her under her dress. She removed the dress over her head in a single movement revealing that underneath she wore nothing at all. Standing over me, her long legs on either side of the lounge, I could not help but notice that her nipples were like small marbles on her petite breasts and the muscles of her stomach seemed to guide my eyes down her belly. Seeing that her pussy was hairless made me less self-conscious of my own denuded state. Before I could think of anything to say, she leaned forward on her hands against my chest and began to undulate her vulva against my penis. I could feel the tender lips part and close as she rubbed them against me and soon they became firm against the shaft of my penis. Hot and wet, she leaned over my chest and worked her pussy up my shaft until, pausing, she arched her ass and docked the head of my cock into the mouth of her pussy. Her toned stomach in front of me, her breathing slow and full, she sounded as if she were talking under it. As she pushed down on my penis she pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow as she had done earlier. Her eyes on my eyes as if she had made a comment and was waiting for my response. She reversed directions a few time, each wet iteration lubricating my thickness and allowing her to lower further and further to my hips. Her dancer’s body undulated like the surface of a lagoon, her head leading the movement, followed by her shoulders, back, belly, and hips. The muscles in her thighs rolled beneath their skin.

I tried to think of something to say. “Wow, that’s really nice.” It sounded lame even as I said it. She made a shushing sound, put her fingers to my lips, closed her eyes, and the undulations of her body became more pronounced. I realized my body had become the manifestation of her private terrain. Holding my head in both of her hands, she thrust herself down until we met at our hips. After a couple of these thrusts she opened her eyes and smiled at me. Bending down, she looked at our copulation and reached for the cock ring. Pulling down on me she ground her pelvis against the ring while holding it. She placed her hands back on my shoulders and began to rapidly fuck short strokes against the ring all the while looking at it. Her breath began to come in gasps. Her head tossed back as she pushed down on my cock. She closed her eyes again as she faded back into the forest of her senses. She began to grind some more. Her gasps were now short non verbal cries. I could feel her thighs quiver and her ass flinch as she pushed up to a sitting position.

She looked at me full in the eyes and began short sliding strokes back and forth on my groin flipping her clitoris against the ring as her vagina spasmodically gripped my cock. Her movements became less and less coordinated.

“More.”

That was all she needed to say. I grabbed her ass with one hand and pulled it tight to me. She raised one leg and hooked it to my waist then placed her hands on my neck as if we were dancing. With my other hand I pushed up off the lounge and we leaned together, her hands on my neck and leg on my waist. Now she was under me, her back arched over the foot of the lounge, her small, firm breasts and bullet like nipples only inches from my face. Pulling her ass more tightly to me, my cock buried into her. I traced the muscles of her belly pausing only to cup her breast before gently touching her cheek then hold her neck. Unable to restrain myself, I began to fuck her as if I were a beast, pushing against her pelvis, grinding the cock ring against her clitoris, alternating long and short strokes into her hot velvety wetness. Tiny beads of sweat appeared on her skin as she began pulling into me with her legs. The fine muscles of her shoulders and chest stood out as her fingers dug into my chest. Eyes tightly shut, eyebrows knit, her breath was coming in gasps and she tossed her head; her calves and feet begin to tremble. As I felt the burning spike of semen building in me I noticed that her lips were still a brilliant red. Her lipstick was not smeared because I had not kissed her. Overwhelmed by the need to do this most important thing, I interrupted her sweet dream with a kiss. Holding her body to mine, purposefully mating to the full length of her body from hip to lips, I ejaculated into her hotly. I tried to pull my mouth away from hers and cry out, but she would not let me and muffled me with her own lips.

For a while, all I did was breath.

Eventually, I pulled back and sliding out of her made me quiver. My penis hung wetly in front of her and she took it in her hands. Gently she used her fore finger and thumb to pull it back out of the ring. My testicles lifted easily out, one at a time, until the ring dropped into her hand. Holding my penis underhanded like a rope she pulled me toward her and kissed me where the hair would have been.

“Happy anniversary, Mr. Macbeth.”

“Happy anniversary to you, too, Doctor Macbeth.”

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Chi Gong,

Woow, I mean oh WOOOW!!!

That is LOVELY!

Very nice twist at the end...made me smile.

What a sweet story! I also liked the ending!

our GP is female, and i've thought about that from time to time when she's checking my prostate.....LOL!

Thank you, all.

BTW, Snowflake, I was impressed with the Gothic Tale. Well done.

Thank you a lot, it is a very great thing to be appreciated by fellow writers!

The Black Story (I call my stories by their colour, to myself,lol) bugs me a bit,like all unfinished things. I want to go back to Venice soon... then may be I will get inspired to write some more.

I agree with the comments above, the end of your story brought a very mellow smile to my lips, it is a lovely surprise!

Welcome tothe boards,keep posting!