P-Spot

I guess I’m kind of a mutant, but not the sort to join the Xmen. It’s not anything that would be useful for fighting crime.

I’m not going to spoil the mystery, so I can start with how I figured it out. My sister had a friend over, but she’s not really involved. Other that being in the bathroom with her when I woke up, talking.

I couldn’t really hear what they were talking about through the door, but I heard the word “Shampoo,” and “Oh yeah,” Marcia said right bye the door, “It really leaves it silky, and shiny.”

I knocked, “Can you hurry up, I really have to go.”

“Go outside, and find a bush some where.”

“No, I have to sit down.”

She giggled, and lowered her voice. So, I couldn’t hear what she said, but then she called, “Just give us a minute to put on clothes.”

The problem is that 2 girls can’t get dressed in a minute. I know that sounds sexist, but they kept talking, and that dragged it out, until it backed up, and hardened into a log. So, when they finally came out, I rushed in to the toilet, and barely bothered to slam the door.

I also had to pee, but lately, I noticed that was getting more difficult. So, I had to put my feet up, and take a deep breath to push real hard until it started coming out. So, I grunted, real loud, until I had to let it out, and I felt something inside.

“Uhhhhh?” I was already out of breath, but my pee came out in squirts, and I pinched it off before the log was even halfway out, but I couldn’t help it. “Huh!” I just panted, and I felt dizzy. Relieved that my bladder was empty, but also found it easier to push the rest of the turd out.

It was disgusting of course, but I felt good. The rest of the day, Marcie’s friend went home as soon as she got dressed, and then I found that I could just pee. It was easy, so easy that it made me wonder what the problem was, but then it came back.

Now, the only trouble I had peeing before was in the morning, when I had an erection. Before I started shaving, at 11. Which was really early, but since I did it in private. I guess I didn’t realize that other boys my age didn’t have to shave, but I learned it with my dad.

Of course, before I even had anything to shave, it was something he did. So, I used to join him in his bathroom, and lather up with foam to play shave. Until I started getting hairs on my chin. They bothered me a little, so I shaved them off, and didn’t tell anyone.

Not because I was ashamed or anything. It just didn’t seem that important, and I thought it was normal. Until the problem came back a few days later, and I was getting worried, so I talked to my dad about having trouble peeing.

I even told him what worked, and when I got to the part about it coming out in squirts, he asked me “You weren’t playing with yourself, were you?”

“No, I didn’t even have a.” I almost said boner, but I forgot the less dirty term.

“An erection?”

I nodded, “That’s what worried me. It’s getting harder to pee, even when I don’t have one.”

“Oh,” he thought, then he called his doctor to make an appointment, and he had a suspicion, but he didn’t say anything about what it was.

That was another thing that wasn’t normal about it, for my age. He had problems too, but not until he was a lot older. Decades older, after he had kids. It’s just part of getting older, normally, but not something you tell your son about.

I also have to add that sex education in our family was pretty much “Don’t.” Abstinence only in school, and “If you shake it more than once, you’re playing with it.” If you got an erection then don’t touch it, ignore it and it’ll go away.

So then, his doctor had to run some tests, and taught me all the terms like Seminal Vesicles while we’re waiting. He asked me if I’d noticed any strange fluid in my bedding, or underwear, that wasn’t urine. I called them “Slug lines?”

“Like the trails slugs make, when they crawl over leaves?”

I nodded, “Something like that, only not as shiny, when they dry. Really sticky before that.”

“White, or clear?”

“Mostly clear, but sometimes it’s.” I tried to remember the term, “Not quite clear, but a little cloudy?”

“Translucent, but never opaque?”

“That’s right.” So, one of the tests he decided to run was an Ultrasound. He also mentioned that he doesn’t do the Manual Palping examination, and my dad prefers this too, but I had to put my feet up in stirrups. Like a gynecologist, only I had some stuff to hold up out of the way.

“Hm.” He looked over from putting a big blob on the head of the machine.

“What?”

“If you don’t mind me asking you a personal question, how long have you been growing pubic hairs?”

“Uh,” I had to think, but they were long enough to curl between my fingers, because I hadn’t cut them, or anything. “I don’t know, a year? Maybe more, what does that mean?”

“It’s impossible to tell, it’s just a symptom at this point, but this might help.” He pulled the curly chord out, and sat down, to move the head around on my perineum, and looked over at the screen. Next to me, I squirmed a little, but he just said “Try to hold still.”

I didn’t feel any vibrations. That’s how an Ultrasound works, and he told me that. It’s like Sonar, but it doesn’t work through bone very well. So, he had to point it through the opening in the bottom, the root of my penis, and anus went through, but of course it wasn’t as large as a woman’s, nor even a girl’s.

He didn’t tell me any of that, he kind of specialized in men like my dad, who. How should I put this? Had emotional issues about those parts of the body, and how they should be used. Properly, I wasn’t even aware that he, or mom had sex. Of course they did, they had 2 children, that I knew about. (There were a few miscarriages I didn’t know about, because mom had emotional issues about those.)

Then, he stopped at a large bulge, that shouldn’t have been there. “Hm,” he frowned, and the expression on his face made me a little worried. I thought I came in so he could fix me, so it would be easier to pee, but I didn’t tell him about how it went away once or twice.

I was a little ashamed of it, because dad heard me through the bathroom door. I even ate a whole bunch of fiber, and cheese the night before. I held it in until it was almost painful, before I took it in the bathroom to see if that worked again. Constipated, it was hard to push out the log again, but this time I was expecting it.

So, I payed attention to the feelings inside, and rushing up to my head when it washed over me. “Uhhhhhh!” This time, I didn’t even hold my breath, I just put my head back on the cold toilet tank, and enjoyed the wet gushes from my penis.

My flaccid penis, I didn’t get hard the whole time. My dad heard me, and accused me of beating off. I tried to tell him no, I didn’t even touch it, and it wasn’t even stiff. I just really had to go so when it came out, it was just a big relief, but he grounded me anyway. Searched my room for anything pornographic, and then he didn’t let me out other than school, until it was time for the doctor’s appointment.

By then, I had time for it to build up again. So, the reason why I was having so much trouble peeing was abundantly clear in the Ultrasound. “I’ve never seen such an enlarged prostate, on anyone below the age of 40.”

“Oh, so that’s why it’s been so hard to pee?” My dad had it, and my grandpa even complained about it taking hours just for a couple dribbles, but that was one of those “Not in front of the kids” things my mom warned him about, so he never said it again.

“Huh!” He wiped the machine off, and told me to put my clothes back on, but then he said “I have to run some more tests, and look for other cases,” but there weren’t any. At least that he could find, but that’s what was causing the problem.

It squeezed the urethra shut, because it was “Overactive.” That’s what they finally called it, “Overactive Prostate,” just like “Overactive Bladder.” Only, instead of Urine, it produced way too much prostate fluid, more than it could hold. Even swollen up to the size that would be big by adult standards. Even by enlarged prostate standards, but not being able to beat off only made it worse.

Oh yeah, and a whole bunch of other symptoms, which led to me getting thyroid surgery in my 20s, because it was just another symptom of the whole hormone imbalance. Practically all the hormones, I was already balding before 30, and even the Pituitary gland was too big. It made the wrong hormones, out of order, but they couldn’t operate it in the middle of my brain.

That’s why I was so hairy, and I had to start shaving for real when I was probably about 10. Honestly, I can’t say when with any surety, because I play shaved as part of my hygiene routine for years before that. So, that was just the tip of the iceberg, but because it interfered with urination, that’s what we found first.

It also led to my first sexual experiences, which is probably what you came here to read about. In fact, I had 2 orgasms without even realizing that’s what was happening. I didn’t even touch my penis, which wasn’t hard, and what little I knew about anal sex was that it was gay, abomination, and the punishment was both men had to be put to death.

Need I point out that we’re a Christian household? Well, I bought into it. The whole thing, right down to sex being something dirty, you only did with your wife, behind closed doors, probably with the lights off, and the covers pulled over you. My sister, on the other hand, kind of took advantage of my innocence.

Marcia was 7 years older than me (Again, there were some miscarriages in there until dad got a Son, and they gave up all together after that.) So, she turned 18, and that let her get into places that were only for adults. She got a tattoo, and hid it under her clothes so dad wouldn’t find out about it, and also started buying cigarettes to sneak out, and smoke.

I knew about the smoking, but I didn’t know about the R rated movies. Let alone the X-rated ones she saw at the “Arcade,” and the toys she bought in the store out front. She started off asking what the doctor said, and I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. She was basically the only girl I knew. She had her friends, but they were her friends. Mom had her friends, and dad had his drinking buddies, but even my friends were mostly just boys.

Even when I started middle school, there was some locker-room talk, but I didn’t hang out with the dirty minded ones. So, my friends kept it clean, and if they noticed how much body hair I had, they didn’t say anything. I heard “You looking at my dick?” around the locker room, but they always denied it. I didn’t look, and I didn’t know anyone else that did, either. I guess I took extra care to hide my privates, because they were private.

I didn’t want anyone looking at them, I was still uncomfortable putting my feet up for the doctor to check my prostate with the Ultrasound, but I knew one way to relieve the pressure. “Well, have you tried milking it?”

I shook my head, “I’m not a cow, and I’m not supposed to.” I thought she ment, the obvious thing sticking out. The one shaped like an udder, you pull on to get “Milk” out? Not that I would ever even think about it, but I couldn’t say the same thing about her.

“Well I can, your fingers probably just aren’t long enough.”

I didn’t understand that, but then she played “Doctor” with me, and repeated things she’d heard from her doctor. Her OB/GYN, she went to the same one as mom, of course. “It’s okay,” she set up some music stands from dad’s drumkit as stirrups. He wasn’t using them, but he used to play drums for the band at church, until they got a drum machine, and started playing Christian Rock with the lyrics up on screens to sing along.

“Just relax,” she put on gloves, don’t ask me where she got surgical ones. Probably stole them from the doctor’s office, because she usually had a new pair when she came back, but they weren’t in a box like Examination gloves. They came folded up in paper, and that package was sealed in a blue pack with a tear off lid, from an autoclave. Sterile Surgical Gloves, with long cuffs she had to pull down, but she didn’t snap them over the cuffs of her coat.

I know she got the lab coat from school. The chemistry lab, so she could play a Mad Scientist for Halloween one year. We’re evangelical non-denominational Christians. So, we could dress up for Halloween, as long as it wasn’t anything Pagan, or Satanic. Mad Scientist was really pushing the boundries, because Science, but that’s exactly the sort of thing my sister did, and got away with. She even had a perfect excuse, about how it was more like a warning about the evils of science, and how to avoid them.

Because we’re raised to fear, and distrust science. Especially medical science that pointed to sexual repression actually being unhealthy for you. Birth Control, Planned Parenthood was an “Abortion Clinic” and Evolution “Just a theory” from people who mistook hypothesis, and theory. (Not to mention their “Theory” about being kicked out of the Primordial Garden for talking to snakes, and then inventing Clothing.)

So, that’s how she got her fingers up my butt, and she asked me how it felt? “Okay,” but I was already loosening up, and trying not to enjoy it, too much. This was the exact same medical palping that my doctor avoided, and dad preferred it that way, because he was probably afraid that he might enjoy it. He didn’t even want to enjoy sex, but I think I got the medical fetish from her.

It turns out that she got it from her doctor. The OB/GYN that noticed her enjoying the examinations, a little too much. As little as I understand it, it wasn’t gay, or bisexual. It was medical molestation, masturbation, and eventually fetish. She played doctor, with her real doctor, and then with me when we figured out how to treat my symptoms, together.

“Uh!” As soon as she found it, I felt the first drop, and then the flood gates. Not unlike how being constipated turns into diarrhea once the plug pops out like a cork, only in between orgasmic spurts of semen, I pissed out a squirt of urine until the next next orgasmic pulse. “Uh, uh, uh, uh!”

She laughed, and I forgot she was even there until her fingers slipped out, with a squeak from the greasy rubber.

“Huh, huh!” I just panted for breath, weak, drained, and satisfied from the release. Little bobs of churned up fecal butter ran down, in between spasms of my stretched out rectum, and I blinked when Marcia started the water. “Sorry, I peed all over you.”

At the sink, she just pulled off the gloves. Pulling the palm of one, then sticking her clean fingers in the cuff of the other so they came off in-side-out, to flush down the toilet.

“It’s okay, I got used to it years ago.”

“When?” I sat up, and turned on the water to adjust it with my feet under the tap. In the bathtub, I had to ask her to “Can you hand me the shower head?” I could have gotten up, and pulled the curtain, but after that, I was still weak, and overcome with relief. She was right there, and I was grateful for her doing something, so disgusting to help me.

At least so I thought, but then I rinsed the mess down the drain, and plugged it to fill up the tub. I sprayed the mix of shit, and lube off my butt, and the river of piss with semen, and prostate fluid from between my legs.

She left, and closed the door while I took a bath, and the most wonderfully satisfying bath I had, before or since. In the afterglow of my fist sexual experience with someone else. I still didn’t knw that it was sexual for her either, but when I finally got out. Refreshed, and dried off, I put a towel on around my waist, and heard suspicious moaning from her room.

We didn’t have to keep it down, of course we waited until mom, and dad were gone to play doctor, but I had some idea what kinds of sounds she was making. Because I’d made them myself, with her fingers deep inside me, and rubbing the inflamed gland hard to milk out every drop. With gushes of hot piss, and seminal spasms from my balls in between.

“Huh!” I just went in my room, and got dressed. She quieted down, and later told me about changing my diapers when I was a baby. She was 7, so I doubt it was sexual for her, neither. She said “It was annoying, because you held it until I had your diaper open, and then sprayed it all over the place like a fire-hose.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know what you’re doing, so I already forgave you, like 10 years ago. So, in answer to your question, that’s why I wasn’t surprised when you pissed all over the place.”

I blinked, when she said piss, and I was too shocked to even laugh nervously, because she just said it like it was nothing. My own dad didn’t say that, not where I could hear it. I knew some boys that announced they were going to take a piss, but I still called it a leak, or a dump, because that was a 3 letter word. Fart was still a 4 letter word to me.

“What?”

“You said.” I looked away, and barely forced myself to say, “The P word.”

“Piss? That’s what it’s called, what do you think P is short for, urine?”

“Well, I guess there’s no P in urine.” I joked. My first dirty joke.

“Well, there’s a P in prostate.” She joked, and then commented, “I can’t believe how much you can cum so young.”

“Come?” I shook my head, and that started a whole new round of Sex Education. Because I could go to her and ask whenever I had questions about something I overheard. In the locker room, and the school yard, because we didn’t have a playground. In middle school, we had P.E. (But not Health) and bleachers outside by the multi-purpose (Soccer, and Football) field.

I was starting to think about sexual things, and girls other than my sister. Who was still more like my big sister I’d played Doctor with once. None of my friends knew anything they could agree on, but they made stuff up, and argued over which one had it right, which sure didn’t help.

So, I started hanging around the 8th graders, at least close enough to overhear them, without being seen. Because they were 8th graders, teenagers, or close enough to round up 12, and a half to 13. They talked a lot of bullshit that I believed, because I didn’t know any better. You know, most 13 year olds aren’t virgins, and they’ve got 8″ dicks, right? Just ask them.

So, I thought I was actually a little below average when I got home, and put a ruler on my bedside table overnight. Knowing that I’d wake up with a boner, so I could measure it, and it was “Only” a little over 7 1/2 inches. I just chalked it up to being a year younger, and thought I’d get that last half inch when I turned 13, next year.

I didn’t play with it, much. I didn’t know how to really, despite seeing the sign for it when the 8th graders were talking, but I definitely shook it more than twice. Then, I realized that I was playing with myself, and got up to pee. In the bathroom, it still hadn’t gone down, so I bent over the bathtub, and just pissed like that.

“Huh!” The first time I pissed with a hard-on, and relatively no trouble. It was easy compared with taking a piss with a full prostate pinching it off, and I was so relieved, my erection went away. So, I could get in, and wash the piss down, then take a shower.

I know, sexy right? Well, I didn’t really think about it again for over a week, because my life went back to normal. I was just glad to be able to pee normally, with or without an erection, and the only trouble it caused was aiming. Outside, I discovered that I could piss right over the fence, which was taller than me. 6′, I guess, though I didn’t think to measure it until long after I graduated then thought about it again years later.

Then, I started having trouble again, but I had to wait until Wednesday. That afternoon, mom, and dad went out to their prayer meeting, leaving me and Marcia with the house to ourselves.

I knocked on her door, and cracked it, “Hey, um.” I hesitated to ask her, “You think you could help me pee again?”

She got up, “So that’s how long it takes to fill back up?” I nodded, and she had to go down to the kitchen first.

“I’ve been holding it a couple days, but it’s really starting to hurt, and I don’t want to do the.” I just forced myself to say “Crap thing again.”

“What crap thing?” So, I told her how I discovered how to drain it the first time I was constipated, then I got constipated again on purpose.

“I really appreciate this.” She had to get a pair of mom’s dishwashing gloves from under the sink. It had been only a week, so she hadn’t been back for another examination, and she didn’t have a set of Surgical gloves. So, we made do.

This time, I didn’t even get my pants open, before I got a raging boner. “Don’t look,” I dropped them while she peeked in the medicine cabinet mirror, and gasped in a breath.

“Huh!”

“I said not too look!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s huge!”

“No it’s not.” I looked down, but it just looked like my penis. Yeah, erect, but I’d never shown my erect penis to anyone else before. “It’s not even 8 inches.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty huge for a 12 year old.”

“It is? Most of the 8th graders are at least 8 inches, and they’re teenagers.”

“Yeah, barely, and have you ever actually seen them?” I shook my head, it’s not polite to look. So, even if I got the chance, I didn’t.

“So, they told you that? They’ve got 8 inch peckers, when the truth is most grown men are lucky to have 6.” I knew she was studying to start nursing school, which explained where she read about average organ sizes.

“Oh,” I shrugged, but I didn’t really care about dick size yet, so. “I really have to pee, tough.” So, I turned around, and bent over the bathtub this time. Since I still had a hardon, it let me aim for the larger target, instead of laying down with my feet up, and her fingers were cold with lube.
“Huh!” I shivered, but then she ran all 3 down, and rubbed it on my nuts. “That’s too low.”

“Well, your scrotum shriveled up from the cold, so this should warm it up a little, and spread the lube around more.”

On her palm, she rolled them around in there, while her slippery fingertips stuck the long hair to my dick shaft, but she kept going farther between my legs.

“You’re going the wrong way.” She gripped it, but it slipped out, so she had to grab it again, and pull it down.

“Well, you don’t want to piss all over yourself again, so I’m going to have to hold it down, and have you tried milking it? I know you’re not a cow, but you never played milkmaid?”

I just shook my head, clenching my teeth, and my eyelids tight. Trying not to enjoy it, but her glove was so slippery, and rubbery. She started slow, but then she twisted her thumb around the side, and gripped it the other way. Slipped it up so she was milking it like a cow. Like that, she could really get a good stroke, and squeeze the head when she got to the end only to stroke it back up to my sticky balls. So, I could already feel drops milking out, and my knees hitting the side of the bathtub. I was shaking, and holding my breath. As much as my lungs would hold, so I could push hard, and feel the pressure inside me.

Not just my bladder, but my prostate, and then my balls twitching. My prostate where Dr. Klein pressed the ultrasound in even though I couldn’t feel the vibrations, it showed up on the screen right next to me, and then he frowned.

“Puh! Huh uhHHHH! Ah ah ah ah ah!” Pissing, and cumming in spurts, she slowed down, and stroked it lovingly, until it went soft, and just ran clear with a post-orgasmic stream of piss until my bladder was empty, and it just dripped flaccid between my knees. “Huh!” I put my elbows down, and caught the soap dish. To twist, and sit down on the side of the tub. Slip into the cold bathtub, ignoring the mix of fluids already running down the drain, and she plugged it for me.

“Let me start the water for you.”

I just nodded weakly, and didn’t open my eyes, until the water on my toes started getting “Too hot. A little more cold, please.”

“I think that works better, at least we don’t have to worry about rinsing the shit off.”

“Huh, yeah.” I smiled, and looked up. I blinked. “What happened to your top?” I looked away from her bra, as soon as I saw it.

“Oh, it was hot in here, so I took it off.” She picked it up. The water turned off, she didn’t put it on. She just carried it to the door, reaching back to unhook the bra strap. Then, she turned to pull the doorknob, and smiled.

When I looked up from the side of her breast, just hanging out from under the loose cup. “Have a nice bath.” She pulled the door closed, but when I closed my eyes. I couldn’t get that out of my head. Even blinking, and looking for something else. I picked up the Doctor Bronner’s bottle, and read it just to distract me, from my first sight of a bare breast.

Finally, I got cleaned up, rinsed off, and tied the towel around my waist again, but when I went out. I stopped at the door, and listened.

‘yeah,’ she breathed, ‘you like that, huh? yeah, it feels so good, huh?’

I shook my head, and went back to my room to get dressed, before our parents came home from their prayer meeting, but that’s when I started to suspect that there was something incestuous about what she just did to me.

Of course I liked it, and I let her do it again and again. Even after I started masturbating, and milking myself with whatever I could find that fit in there. Long enough to touch my prostate, but by then it was too late.

I wasn’t doing it so I could piss normally. We’re doing it because it felt good.

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