Chapter 2

The next ten days was the most anxious in Nathan's young life. After his football recruiting visit to Central Florida State, and after the unexpected highlight of his sexual career at the hands (and mouths) of three gorgeous nurses, he took the Greyhound bus back to the sleepy little town of Jennings and waited.

And waited. He checked his e-mail several times every hour. Nothing from CFS, nothing from Dr. Murphy's program.

And waited. He checked the dilapidated mailbox out on the gravel rural road in front of his house at least twice a day.

And waited. He kept his cell phone next to his bed and left it plugged in throughout the night.

He had gotten responses from every one of the other programs where he had visited. All acceptances. But CFS would have been his top choice regardless of his awesome thrill of exposing himself to three beautiful nurses, and receiving his first ever blowjob. (Did that count as his first, and second and maybe third blowjob he wondered?)

Deadlines were approaching. He was supposed to commit soon. CFS had always been his "reach" school. Not from an academic standpoint, he was a smart enough young man that he qualified for scholarships at any state school. But, their football program had been ranked in the top 25 for a few weeks last year, and this was the year all the analysts thought they were going to make their push into the big time. He was on the cusp. He'd be a sure starter for a small program, but for a program like CFS, he might be second or even third on the depth chart.

He wondered what he would do if CFS didn't make him an offer and Dr. Murphy's program did. Would he go to CFS anyway and try to walk-on to the football team? Would Dr. Murphy even invite him into the program if the football program rejected him?

The only thing that kept him sane during the torturous period of waiting was the brilliant memory of his examination.

Every morning he stroked himself to orgasm in the shower, thinking of the nurses' eyes on his body.

Every day at school he made several trips to the men's room and dropped his pants, with one hand against the wall and the other aiming his thick cock at the bowl. The strength of the images and power of the recollections made him reach a shuddering, enervating climax in just a few pulls every time, pumping out copious amounts of thick jism.

On weekends he spent the day in his room, with his door closed and his hand wrapped around his increasingly overworked meat.

Every night he lay on top of his covers in the evening heat, the ceiling fan providing the only relief from the humid, unseasonably warm weather. He slowly worked his hardness at these times, bringing himself to the brink over and over again, but then backing down, saving his orgasm and extending the fantasy. It was the only way he could avoid sleepless hours of worry, his mind racing with the possibilities and insecurity. Sometimes he would let himself cum, and then drift off to sleep. Sometimes he fell asleep with his hard-on in his hand. On those nights, his dreams were intensely erotic.

And then early on the eleventh morning the call came, awakening him instantly from a deep sleep. He bolted upright to grab the phone off of his dresser. It showed an unknown number from the CFS area code. His hand trembled as he accepted the call. "Hello? This is Nathan."

"Nathan, good morning!" It was a woman's voice, mature, gently enthusiastic, and surprisingly sensual. "This is Dr. Murphy. I hope I didn't wake you." His heart started to pound.

"Hi. No, it's okay. I was hoping you'd call." In fact, he was more eager to hear from the doctor than he was to hear from the football program. His hand went automatically to his stiffening cock in his tight briefs. He started to squeeze and quickly reached a full erection. He felt a little light headed. What was she going to tell him?

Dr. Murphy heard the tension in his voice. "Are you sitting down, Nathan?" She kept a level tone.

"No, ma'am."

"Please do, Nathan. Better yet, if you are in your room, lie down."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm in my room. I'll lie down." He stretched himself out on his still unmade bed, sliding his hand under the waistband of his briefs and gripping his throbbing member, hoping.

"Good boy. Is your door closed, or if not, are you alone in the house?"

"My door's closed, ma'am."

"Are you naked?" Just having a woman ask such a bold question made Nathan a bit dizzy with excitement. He was glad she told him to lie down.

"No ma'am. I'm in my briefs."

"Can you put me on speakerphone, or will that be too loud? Will someone hear?"

"I'll put you on speaker; my mom's a little deaf anyway, and maybe still asleep. She won't hear."

"Do that now, Nathan. Put me on speaker and hold your phone on your belly."

"Okay."

"Can you send and receive pictures while talking with someone on your phone?"

"Yes, I haven't done it really, but I think it works okay."

"I'm sending you a picture of me now, so you have some idea of who you are talking to."

Nathan opened the image. It showed a full-length picture of a very attractive woman, maybe in her late forties, tall, thin and brunette, with a dark skirt and a white lab coat. She seemed to be wearing stockings or pantyhose, and simple black pumps. She had slight smile, sexy dark frame glasses, and an inquisitive expression. Nathan found her beautiful and authoritative at the same time.

"What do you think of my picture?"

He squeezed the base of his shaft as he answered. "Very nice, ma'am."

"Nice?" Her voice cooled off 10 degrees. "Are you touching yourself, Nathan?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied tentatively but honestly.

"Stop calling me 'ma'am' and call me doctor, please."

"Yes, m ... Yes, Dr. Murphy."

"That's better. Now, when you first saw the picture did you have your hand on your penis?"

"Yes."

"And did it give you a thrill, did you get a charge out of looking at my picture? Did you have desire for me? To do naughty things for me, with me? Answer me honestly." Her voice had warmed again. It sounded sexy, a bit throaty.

"Yes, doctor, I do feel that way about you."

"Alright Nathan. It's good to hear that. I'm going to invite you to join my research program," he was sure his heart stopped..."but before I do I need to tell you some things about what we are doing, so that you can give informed consent." Nathan thought he could hear traffic noises in the background; she seemed to be calling from her car.

"I am a sex researcher. The program is a therapeutic program for women with sexual problems, but in order to treat those women properly I need a stable of select, capable men." Nathan wasn't sure how he felt about joining a stable, but he wasn't going to object.

"The men who are part of my program are very carefully selected. Mostly they are young, your age and just a bit older, but there are a very few approaching my age or even older than that. Do you know what quality separates these men from other men?"

"Umm..." he wanted to say something based on what the nurses had told him about his physical endowments, but wasn't yet comfortable.

She read his mind by his hesitation and tone of voice. "No, it's not penis size, though I've seen your ... measurements ... and understand from the nurses that your penis is very impressive. I can't wait to see it in person." The young man throbbed at the thought of the doctor examining his naked body.

"We select men who derive a very special enjoyment in being admired by interested women. For men like you, this kind of display is a form of compliance or submission, not an act of pride. You are offering yourself for the needs of your female audience, not forcing your needs and insecurities upon us the way a flasher might."

He had visions of stripping naked in a theater, with women sitting all around appreciating and examining his throbbing erection.

The doctor paused a moment, knowing that the young man was developing fantasy images. "The women that we serve need special men: men who can be responsive to their needs, masculine without being threatening, sexual without being selfish. Do you think you can do that?"

Nathan could hardly speak, "Yes, doctor. I think I can. I want to try."

"You would need to be available to the women in our program at any time that you are not scheduled for an approved, required activity. For a college student, that means when you are not in class, in the fifteen hours of designated study time per week, or at a required football practice or game. That doesn't mean that you will be utilized all the time, just that you have to be ready for it if you are needed. Does that sound okay?"

Nathan thought about it for a second. He wasn't really sure what it meant to be 'utilized, ' but he also didn't want to upset the doctor by asking too many questions. He did venture to ask a related question, hoping it wouldn't hurt his chances. "About how often, how much time, should I expect to be utilized?"

The doctor laughed gently. "Well, Nathan, that's partly up to you. You'll be a sort of therapist for these women. When you first become available for appointments in our system, you'll probably get a lot of requests from a lot of different women who are curious and find your profile appealing. Over time there may be fewer new calls, but more repeat calls, and maybe some special requests." Nathan was having a hard time restraining his orgasm, his fantasies were in overdrive. "Overall I'd say maybe five to ten hours per week, very likely to be a lot more than that at first."

"If I get a job, does that change things? Do I have to reserve more time for myself?"

"You can't have a job, Nathan. You won't need one, first of all, because you'll be paid a base salary of five hundred dollars a week as a research assistant, and an additional one hundred fifty dollars per hour of therapy you perform. Second of all, you won't be able to maintain a regular schedule necessary to keep a regular job."

Nathan was quickly figuring in his head. That was anywhere from $1000-2000 per week. He gulped, and his erection grew even stronger.

He finally couldn't take it anymore. He had to know. "That's a lot of money. What do I have to do? Am I like a male prostitute or something?"

"No, Nathan, not at all," Dr. Murphy replied patiently. He was relieved that he hadn't made her angry with that question. "Prostitution is illegal, and the therapy you'll be doing is legal, since you're working through a licensed and highly trained therapist." She paused a moment. The young man needed encouragement. "Do you still have your briefs on, Nathan?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Take those off for me now, and put the phone somewhere you can see it, so you can use both hands to touch yourself. Can you do that for me?" By the time she finished the question he had finished the action, propping the phone on his nightstand using the kickstand in the phone cover.