"NEXT!"
Randy eagerly moves forward, his balls heavy in his pants. It's the same grumpy looking nurse calling people forward as last time. Her face is heavily made up and permanently frowning, but her scrubs hug a beautiful figure. Her blonde hair is scraped back into a tight ponytail and her hard blue eyes scan Randy robotically.
"Hi there," Randy greets her with a smile. Randy is a big chubby fellow, about six-foot in stature, but his personality is mild and his warm grin tends to put those around him at ease.
"Do you have an appointment?" The nurse asks unceremoniously. Her name tag reads LILA, and it's notably bare, whereas the other nurses tend to decorate and personalize there. Randy has seen Lila at the clinic before, and she seems to take no shit from anybody. Most nurses are Switches or Service Tops, but Lila's demeanor reads alpha.
"Uh, yeah. Last name Duncan," Randy says, clearing his throat. He hasn't relieved himself of cum since Friday evening when he left his shift, and it's Sunday.
"What are you here for?"
"Cumshot?" Randy says.
"Routine cum extraction," Lila briskly corrects him as she types something into the computer. "Would you like to release with a machine, or personnel? There is about a ten minute wait for a personnel, but you can use a machine if you can't wait--although we don't allow urination in the machines, please keep in mind."
Randy glances over to the row of cock-milking machines along the back wall, covered by flimsy polyester curtains. The machines in question are cylindrical, flashlight-looking contraptions that clamp over the penis and pleasantly suck until the patient ejaculates into a medical cup on the other side of the wall. The cum is then analyzed, the results shared with the patient.
"I'll wait for personnel," Randy says reluctantly, and he takes his heavy balls back to the plastic chair to wait his turn. Randy's been a security guard for various local businesses, with most of his day consisting of catching thieves and fucking them, but at home, Randy can't afford a live-in Bottom. So he comes to the clinic, knowing that no self-respecting Top would ever demean himself by taking care of his own erection.
A few minutes after he takes a seat, an older gentleman bursts through the clinic doors and dashes through the waiting room, making a beeline for the sucking machines, his hard red dick protruding through his zipper and flailing wildly as he runs. There's something clearly off about him, and clearly Lila has a history with him, because she immediately stands up and shouts:
"Mr. Ferguson, we've talked about this! You have to check in to use the facilities!"
"No time, bitch! She's gonna blow!" The man spits at her, and he darts into the nearest stall, shoving his engorged member into the milking machine without bothering to close the curtain behind him. The machine senses warm flesh and automatically whirs to life, tightening around his desperate cock. A mechanical swish swish swish sound pumps rhythmically as it sucks him, and he whimpers uncontrollably. After about fifteen seconds of this, the man lets out a gratuitous moan, and Randy can see the base of his shaft twitch as he releases.
Randy sighs and shifts his weight, trying to ignore his own cock, which has been at least semi-hard for most of the day. What's the point of making an appointment if I have to wait anyway? He thinks to himself, and he tries to ignore the old man, although this proves an impossible feat.
Lila picks up the phone and calls "Security!" As loud as she can over the intercom.
Mr. Ferguson pulls his dick out of the milking machine, which is nothing but a shiny pink button without his angry erection. Randy isn't surprised when Mr. Ferguson doesn't tuck his penis away--Tops like Mr. Ferguson rarely do--but that's not to say he was anticipating the old fuck's next move.
"I've had about enough of your lip, missy!" He shouts as he storms over to Lila's desk with his soft dick in his hand. "Every time I come in here, you're nothing but sour. Why don't you come around behind the desk and tell me if my hot piss is as sour as your attitude?"
Lila has the good sense to get up and move to the back as Mr. Ferguson releases an powerful torrent of urine at her, stopped only by the transparent safety partition between them. The sheer speed and velocity of his stream is incredible for a man his age and his hot piss splatters loudly against the bulletproof plastic sheet, echoing through the waiting room. It pours down onto her desk, seeping through the ID slot, soaking her papers, her half eaten lunch, and most of her personal items.
"You're lucky the glass is there, missy," Mr. Ferguson sneers at her. "When I catch you on the street one day, I'm gonna hold you down and pee on your tits." Lila just folds her arms and glares at the lake of stinking old-man piss rapidly forming around her keyboard.
"I doubt you're strong enough for that, Mr. Ferguson," she says coldly.
The surprisingly disruptive sound of Mr. Ferguson's monstrous stream against the plastic is abruptly cut off as two security guards strategically and forcefully bring him to his stomach, avoiding his stream as best they can--although Randy sees one of them get dribbled on a little.
