The Urologist's Female Assistant

As soon as I read Liz's text, I covered the screen with my hand.

"Come to my apt at 7:15 Friday. I want to make u cum again."

When I was sure no one around me was peeking, I read the message again, several times. It was from the cell number Liz had called me from after our last meeting at the medical school, when she'd texted, "U got 2 orgazms and I only got 1. No fair! Payback time soon." But three weeks had passed and I figured I wouldn't hear from Liz again.

Yet here she was, chatting madly at me for a response.

"U still got ur foreskin, right?"

I sighed and texted back, "Yes," and she repeated her invitation, along with her address, and a warning to be precisely on time. I replied "OK," and our date, as it was, was set.

I had mixed feelings about Liz. For a girl who loved to see foreskins cut off, she had plenty of talent for making mine sing and dance. Her handjobs left me breathless, her enthusiasm for masturbating a man to orgasm unmatched by any woman I'd been with up till that point. But every climax was followed by a reminder that she wanted me circumcised—correction: she wanted to circumcise me herself, if possible.

So I set myself some rules for this date. I would not let Liz restrain me in any way. Nor would I permit any play with clamps, forceps, etc. And in case she was truly the deviate she acted like, I'd be on the lookout for syringes and would take nothing to eat or drink from her. Hot and sexual as she was, she also came across as a serious head case.

Liz lived in a newish complex close to the community college, where I assumed she was taking classes to fully qualify as an assistant. I parked in the guest lot and no sooner raised my hand to knock on her door than she popped it open with a familiar, bright grin.

"Hey, Foreskin Boy," she announced, a little louder than I found comfortable, "come in!"

I stepped across the threshold and as I passed, Liz leaned close enough to brush her nipples against my arm. The door closed behind me, and Liz ran her fingernails down my back.

"You are going to get a show as well as a good jerking-off," she murmured, "a close-up experience with sex as a circumcised man!"

"Now, Liz," I blurted, turning to face her hopeful expression, "I need you to know I have every intention of leaving here with my foreskin still attached."

Liz nodded enthusiastically. I continued.

"And I'm not letting you near my penis with any of your tools or toys."

Her eyes widened, as if to express shock.

"Of course not! You're my toughest sell ever. I have much, much more convincing to do before you'll let me take the snippers to you," and she illustrated her words with a scissoring-fingers action that, strangely, caused the root of my penis to jump a little.

"So I've planned a little show for you, an infomercial, a live one," and with that, as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Liz pushed me gently backward into a closet, closing the louvered door after me.

"Wait here until I give you a signal," she said, then went back to the front door.

I found myself in close quarters among winter coats on hangers and boots on the floor. And like an obedient servant, I stood there while Liz opened the front door, exchanged greetings with a male voice, then led the fellow into the same room where I'd been standing seconds before. A short conversation ensued about "what I promised I was going to do for you," some nervous laughter, and Liz instructing him to "put this on." This was followed by the sound of clothing coming off, and some mild expressions of pleasure from her and the man. After some silence, I heard something tap my door, and through the louvers I saw a marble come to rest on the carpet. I took that to be my signal, and slowly opened the door.

I beheld Liz, naked, along with her guest, who wore a blindfold, both of them sitting on the couch. She gave me the "Shh" signal with her finger, then pointed to his erection. A dark ring in the flesh below the glans made it obvious he was circumcised.

Liz did the scissors motion again and mouthed the words, "I clipped him" to me. Then she gently took his pulsing penis in her fingers and tugged at it. He moaned slightly at the touch.

She waved me toward a chair and signaled that I should take my clothes off. Then I noticed a plastic bottle and some hand towels on the coffee table. With her other hand she retrieved the bottle.

"This is coconut oil," she said aloud to the man next to her. "It feels good and tastes good, too." She dispensed some into her palm and shifted position so she could put both hands to work stroking his penis.

He let his head fall back onto the sofa and moaned again. Liz freed up one hand to signal "jack off" to me, which hardly seemed necessary at that point. Watching this hot young woman deliver a penis massage - even to someone else - already had my glans straining to escape its protective sheath.

As I toyed with my rapidly disappearing overhang, Liz teased her victim with light drags of her fingertips along the body of his penis. Then she left it standing tall while she worked the coconut oil into his scrotum. As she continued, she glanced at me and my erection. I deliberately pulled the foreskin out to full length so it formed a rosebud shape. She wrinkled her nose playfully and shook her head, mouthing "Clip it," before returning to the denuded glans at hand.

The man tried to touch her breasts, but she gently tapped his hand.

"This is for you," she murmured, "not me," but that didn't stop her from probing her labia from time to time and tasting her fingertips. She motioned for me to stand. I felt alarm as I realized she intended to handle both of our penises at once.

Liz reached out to take my organ as soon as it got within range and she motioned for me to add lubricant. I squeezed the bottle and a cold shot of slippery, tropical-scented oil coated her hand and my penis. She skinned me back completely, then squeezed hard enough to make the glans purple. I muffled a gasp. She glanced up through her eyebrows deviously.

Shifting position to straddle one of the other guy's thighs, Liz began thrusting her hips, grinding her vulva against the top of his leg. Her grip on my shaft tightened, and she arched her back with pleasure. Liz pulled my foreskin over and back, and the other guy she simply stroked with her well-lubricated hand. This went on through a series of his gasps and my fluttering eyelids.

Soon, Liz was ready to step things up. She whispered to her circumcised partner:

"Remember how I said this stuff tastes good, too?" she asked, to his immediate nod. "Well, I bet your cum tastes just as good going down my throat." And with that, she dismounted from his leg, pushed the coffee table aside, and knelt before him, taking his penis into her mouth.

She motioned toward her fully exposed ass. I took the hint and got on my knees behind her, leveling my slickened erection at the bright red opening of her vagina. It slid in precisely, the tight labia following the contours of my glans, corona, and shaft as I penetrated her. When I bottomed out, I took her round hips in my hands and began to thrust.

At that point, Liz demonstrated why some call it a "hummer." Her oral recipient took her sounds as a sign of her enthusiasm and began his own litany of whispered profanities. I tried to block him out and focused on her vulva clinging to my penis with every out-stroke. Then she threw in a new twist. I felt her fingers toying with, then rhythmically rubbing, her clitoris in time with my intrusions.

Not much of this stimulation was needed to bring my testicles up tight and ready for discharge. Of course Liz sensed this and began to produce a minor flood of her own secretions. This, along with the flaring of my corona, kept my foreskin immobile, fully exposing my frenulum to every stroke. I held my breath to silence myself, and with a level of restraint I previously would have thought impossible, I quietly unloaded pulse after pulse of hot semen deep into Liz's abdomen. She continued her self-massage, bobbing her head until her gulps told me she had she sucked his full load into her body.

I snatched one towel from the table and plopped it on the couch next to Liz. With another I cupped her sopping vulva until she took over and started wiping herself up.

As quickly as I could, I collected my clothes and made a stealthy break for the bedroom. I ducked into what turned out to be a walk-in closet just as the other guy made his way to the bathroom.

I slipped silently into my clothing as my eyes adjusted. Then I noticed boxes stacked in the corner of the closet, bearing the medical caduceus symbol and various trade names. I peered into the open top of one, and spotted a Gomco clamp.

"No, it's time to go," I heard Liz say firmly a few minutes later, as he apparently let on that he was the snuggling type. "I'll call you next time I want another one." And the door closed, and a few seconds later Liz swung my own door open.

"Aww, you got dressed already," she said, clearly disappointed. "Come out here, I still want to inspect you." She motioned toward the bed. I lowered my pants and took a seat.

Liz took my sagging penis in her fingertips and tilted it around, examining all angles.

"This is the longest I've ever seen your foreskin," she marveled. "All that oil plus my juices seem to have stretched it out.

"I bet if I circumcised you right now, your skin would be tight as a drum on your next erection," and she repeated the scissoring motion on my covered glans, making me twitch.

"Liz, no matter how hot that was, I'm not letting you cut my foreskin off," I said, not too convincingly.

"It was good enough for him," she smiled. "But first I had to suck five or six loads of cum out to convince him."

"So you got him to lie down for a circumcision by your own power of persuasion, huh?"

Liz seemed, perhaps, to blush.

"Let's just say by the time I was done, he wanted it, too," Liz tugged on the abundant bulb of foreskin covering my meatus, then stood up. "But that's the first time I've jacked off and fucked both a cut and uncut guy simultaneously."

She leaned forward and stretched herself in a way that ended with both of her hands between her thighs, where they lingered for a bit.

"Next time maybe you'll be the guy on the couch." And with that, she showed me to the door.