Best Gay Erotica 2009 by Richard Labonté

Author:Richard Labonté
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press Start
Published: 2010-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

I evidently doze just long enough for Marc to finish with his other patient. Perhaps it’s the sound of his softly closing the door to my room that wakes me. I watch through half-open eyes as he moves quietly, first pulling off the top of his scrubs—one step forward again!—then sitting on the floor in front of me with his legs crossed. He lifts the foot of my gimpy leg carefully into his lap. He holds it with the fingers of both his big hands and massages around my toes.

“Mr. N., it’s time for some leg exercises.”

I open my eyes fully and nod.

“When I push and bend your foot toward you, use your muscles to resist it.”

We do twenty of those. I focus on his big, strong hands while I flex my leg muscles.

“Good, good. Now the opposite: as I bend your foot toward me, resist the motion.”

Again with his big, strong hands! His fingers feel remarkably warm and comforting wrapped around my toes. How unfortunate we only do twenty of those with each foot. I think I could have done hundreds without getting tired or bored.

“Excellent. Next I’m going to lift your leg up a bit….”

I wince but for no good reason. His touch is sensitive and nothing about it hurts.

“Now I’ll support your lower leg and foot, and I’m going to flex your thigh muscles by moving the foot first back toward you, and then moving it forward toward me, just this slowly.”

Toward me, toward Marc. Toward me, toward Marc. He establishes a slow, steady rhythm that is almost hypnotic. Toward me, toward Marc. My foot is right at the level of his chest but I manage to avoid the strong temptation to tweak his nipple with my big toe. Toward me, toward Marc, toward me, toward Marc.

It feels good; can this be physical therapy? It is relaxing and it loosens the thigh muscle in a good way. Here’s the problem, if it is a problem: the rhythmic motion is also sliding my shorts in syncopation up and down my other leg, arousing me very effectively, and my erection by this time is becoming rather insistent, not to mention quite evident visually. It’s already peeking out a couple inches past the bottom of my shorts. Ah, well, Marc is a health professional, right? Seen it all before. Maybe he’ll interpret it as positive body language.

Marc continues the rhythmic motion, nonplussed. “Personally, I always think that an erection is a good sign.” (Toward me, toward Marc.) “It shows that the pain and discomfort are reducing enough”—toward me, toward Marc—“that you are coming back into contact with the rest of your body”—toward me, toward Marc—“and your feelings. Is this your first time since the surgery?”

“Yes it is. In fact, it’s my first now in about three weeks.”

“Excellent! In that case, we must celebrate!”

“Yes,” I say, looking into his eyes, “we must definitely celebrate.”

With no more warning than his smile, my big toe and its two nearest neighbors disappear into Marc’s mouth.

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