WARNING: This story contains descriptions of a fictional gay man exploring a new part of his sexuality with a straight woman. If this bothers you, please don't read. May contain language or views or fetishes of a questionable content that do not reflect the author's view. All characters are fictional and 21 for all intents and purposes. Please heed this warning carefully before filling the comments with hate.
*****
Dylan had neglected his coffee, choosing instead to focus on what had become his and Melanie's weekly venting session instead of a post-run brunch. He knew it was probably boring, but she was the only friend he felt he could talk to about his...problem.
Ever since he'd turned 30 about six months ago, he'd had a problem with premature ejaculation. The past few months he'd tried everything to help with it. Therapy, sex toys, creams, even some of those suspicious pills in the ads on the internet.
Nothing seemed to work though, and even though his fiance had been patient up til now, he could tell that patience was wearing thin. It was a shame, too, since Dylan was the total package. He was 6'2", tan, blonde, and blue-eyed. Like many gay guys, he spent his fair share of time in the gym and it showed, his abs and pecs plain to see in his workout clothes. A generous package could be seen in his running tights, with Dylan enjoying the attention it brought him. If only they knew it had been turned into nothing more than a toy squirt gun.
"I'm telling you, Mel, I've tried everything. But if I don't figure it out soon, John's going to leave me."
"He wouldn't do that, though, would he?"
They'd been together since he graduated college, so anything other than the two of them seemed crazy.
"I don't know. I can tell he's starting to resent it now, even though I've told him it has nothing to do with him."
"That's horrible, you'd think he'd be more understanding."
"Yeah, but sex has always been important to him in a relationship. I don't know what else to try."
"Well...I know something you might be able to try, but it's kind of out there."
"At this point I'll try anything."
"So, this other nurse on my shift was having trouble getting pregnant and she tried fertility shots, IVF, and everything she could think of. Eventually she went to this shaman on the reservation, and bam, next thing you know she was pregnant."
"Well I don't need to get pregnant, but do you really think he could help me?"
"It's worth a try. He only takes appointments, though, and only by mail. I'll text you the address when I get home."
"Thanks, Mel. What would I do without you?"
-----
Following Mel's instructions in addressing the letter, he made an appointment to visit the shaman. It had taken a couple of weeks to hear back, but now Dylan was pulling off the unpaved, dirt road to the shaman's shop and then exiting his Mercedes.
He didn't know what he was expecting, whether a hut or a yurt, but the shop looked surprisingly normal compared to his preconceptions. Walking felt good after the 4 hour ride into the reservation and he steadied his feet before entering the shop.
The shop was fairly spartan. A few bookcases with books and Native American objects lined both of the walls. In front of one such bookcase on the right side, sat two armchairs facing each other, divided by a small coffee table. In front of Dylan however, was a glass counter with a register, filled with already packaged herbs and medicines for sale. The bell on the counter caught his eye and he rang it loudly, hoping someone would hear it.
The shaman entered through a beaded curtain covering an entrance to another room in the back of the room holding a small earthenware mug of tea. He was younger than Dylan expected and dressed in less curious garb, as well.
"Can I help you?" the shaman inquired.
"Uh, yeah. My name's Dylan, I have an appointment today."
"Of course. Please have a seat over there and you can tell me more about the issue you described in your letter."
Dylan followed the shaman and sat across from him in the chair opposite him.
"Um, shouldn't we talk somewhere more private? It's kind of embarrassing..."
"No need. You're the only appointment I have today, so there's no reason to feel self-conscious."
"Alright then."
Dylan cleared his throat and began to recount the events of the last six months to him, the shaman listening carefully with closed eyes and only moving to take a sip of tea.
After he finished, the shaman asked a few questions about his health and diet, then sat there deep in thought for a few minutes. It made Dylan somewhat anxious, but eventually he spoke.
"Problems of this nature are usually of an earthly nature, physical or mental, instead of spiritual. And from what I can see and what you've said, you're in great health and have tried to correct everything that might be the cause of your dysfunction."
"Does that mean you won't be able to help me?"
"I don't believe so... Well, there might be something that could help some, but it's a very old and unconventional treatment for fertility my ancestors used. There's no guarantee it would help in the case and it certainly hasn't been used on anyone except a str-"
"Please, I'll try anything at this point! I'll pay you whatever you want! Just try to help me! I can't lose him..." pleaded Dylan, cutting off the shaman and the frustration visible on his face.
The shaman rose out of his seat.
"I guess there's no other option then. Wait here, it will probably take about 30 minutes," and with that the shaman disappeared into the back room.
Dylan sat there, not moving an inch, in an attempt to calm himself down. At some point, he saw smoke come from the back room and heard chanting in a language he didn't understand.
Not more than 30 minutes passed before the shaman exited the room carrying a bag and motioning for Dylan to meet him at the counter.
"Inside is a small bag of tea and a box. Before the next time you have sex, make the tea and wait an hour, after it takes effect, open the box and follow the instructions I've placed inside. You're free to have sex any time after that."
"Okay, sounds easy enough."
"Remember, there's no guarantee this will work, but please, let me know how it turns out since it's usually not used this way. It's $400, no refunds."
"Four hundred?? ...Alright, it'll be worth it if it works." and with that he fished out his wallet, paying the shaman.
He thanked him quickly, rushing out the door, anxious to get back on the road and try his new prescription. The shaman shook his head slightly, placing the cash in the register.
-----
Dylan sipped the tea slowly while waiting for his fiance to arrive home. The acrid taste hit his tongue each time, making him frown, but he suffered through it. The hour wait for the tea to take effect seemed to slink by so slowly. He was about to check the clock for what seemed to be the thousandth time, when he felt something wet in his pants.
Shucking off his slacks, he checked his jockstrap only to find the pouch was soaked. Taking them off, he found his flaccid dick spewing forth a near constant stream of precum. Is this what the tea was supposed to do? He didn't feel horny, and he sure wasn't hard, so why was this happening? Not to mention the fact he barely had any normally.
Remembering the box, he went to fetch it. The box was small and carved with indistinct patterns. Nothing fancy, but nothing plain either. Opening it up, he found a note and three turquoise beads on a string. Picking up the string for a closer look, he found each bead was slightly smaller than a pea and a beautiful blue-green color.
Setting them down again, he turned his attention to the set of hand-written instructions. His eyes opened wide as he read. If he was reading right, he was supposed to insert the string of beads into his dick. He couldn't think of any other way to interpret it, could this really be a cure for premature ejaculation? He'd never heard of such a thing, but he did say it was an unusual treatment.
Could he really thread these into his cock? He'd read about sounding before, and some guys seemed to like it. Hell, he'd taken strange pills trying to cure this, so why not?
He re-read the instructions one more time and set to work. He covered the first bead in his precum and pressed it against his soft head. Thankfully he was soft, he'd never have a hope of getting these inside if he was hard. It took some effort, but after a few attempts, the first one slipped inside. It didn't feel uncomfortable, more strange than anything, so he continued. Massaging the underside like the paper said, he slowly fed the others into his cock until he couldn't feel them in his shaft anymore.
He sighed, taking a break and another look at the instructions. He grabbed the long end of the string still hanging out and pulled gently. He felt a slight tugging inside him and then the string slipped out effortlessly.
Looking down, he saw there were no beads left on the string! The instructions had said not to worry, but it was extremely disconcerting. Even if he wanted to double-check with the shaman, he couldn't since he didn't have a phone...
Suppressing the urge to panic, he tried to go about his day as usual like the note said. At least his dick had quit leaking precum now, and honestly, the only thing bothering him was an almost imperceptible feeling in his large, already full-feeling balls. Besides, it wouldn't be long until John got home from work and he could see if the beads had helped any. With that thought, he hopped into the shower to prepare.
-----
About 30 minutes later, upon hearing John enter the bedroom, he exited the master bath, with only a towel wrapped around him.
"Hey, babe, how was your day?" Dylan asked.
"Rough. I had to work on a presentation alone today since my partner was out," responded his fiance, John.
"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his towel, "Maybe we can find a way to cheer you up..."
"Are you sure? I mean, sure, I'd like that. I just don't want to pressure you."
"Just get down there," Dylan said, sitting on the bed, dragging him down with him by John's tie.
John didn't say another word, deciding instead to kiss his way up Dylan's thighs. He didn't spend much time doing so, though, and took Dylan's soft 6 inches into his mouth.
Five minutes...
Then 10...
Then 15...
John finally spat out the dick and exclaimed, "What the fuck!?"
"I-I don't know. This has never happened before," Dylan said, looking down at his still flaccid cock.
