Playing Doctor

“An entire week!” Marvin complained to his wife.

“That’s what the doctor said.” she affirmed.

“But I feel fine with the medicine....” Marvin said, sitting up. The world swam on him and he lay back again. Shit!

“The medicine is the only thing keeping your fever down.” His wife said firmly as she covered him up. She stood up and Marvin regarded his lawyer wife in her business suit. “The office can do without you for a while. Peterson has already signed your case load to the other attorneys. I took half of them on myself.”

“But who’s going to take care of me?” Marvin whined. With that much work added to her own schedule, his wife would be putting in sixteen-hour days! At least! Shit, she worked late enough as it was and was usually too tired to do anything but gripe about her job when she did get home! It was like sleeping with the calendar committee! And frankly, his wife was a better attorney than he was or had any hope of ever being. She was rising in the firm, he was staying still. A rankling state of affairs, she now clearly outranked him on the job, making partner four years before he did! She brought home about twice his salary, too.

His wife cocked an eye at him. “You’d rather share the commissions with someone else?”

“No, but....” Another attorney working on your file got at least ten percent, even when he worked one day on a file you’d spent three years nursing to fruition. The firm did it on purpose, feeling a penalty like that made sure an attorney didn’t take time off for casual reasons.

“The housekeeper will be here. Just ring the bell if you want anything.” his wife started to kiss him good-bye and changed her mind, blew him a kiss instead. “I’ll have my cell phone if you need to talk.”

“All right.” Marvin sighed.

“By the way, Ritchie will be staying home from school this week.” she said as she was leaving.

“Huh?”

“They’re afraid of him spreading germs.” his wife said. “You and I know you aren’t contagious, but they don’t want to take any chances. He won’t be too much trouble. You can handle him, seeing how you feel fine.” She gave him a smile she generally used when she won or settled a case, and with that, she left, closing the door after her.

Marvin groaned and laid back onto the bed. His head hurt, but he was so hopped up on medicine now he didn’t want to add more to his body just now.

An alternative to aspirin occurred to him and he rang the bell. Mrs. Callen came up, a large, impudent, impatient woman. “What do you want? I’m doing the floors now.” was her response.

“Bring me a bag of ice.”

“Shall I put a bottle in it?” she asked.

“I want to put it on my head.” Marvin said. “I have a headache and I don’t want to use aspirin right now. So I want a bag of ice.”

“You brought me up here for that?” she asked incredulously.

“Just get me the ice...please.” Marvin said.

“All right, all right.” she said.

Marvin moaned again, this time in frustration. At this woman’s mercy all week! God, she’d never let him hear the end of it!

A knock at his door. “Come in already.” he said.

It was Ritchie with the bag of ice. “You wanted this, Daddy?” he asked.

“Yeah, Ritchie, thanks.”

Ritchie came over, and Marvin was struck at how much Ritchie looked like him at that age. Like looking at an old photograph, or old movies. Seven years old, the same brown hair, the same cheekbones, the same nose. Only those eyes were his wife’s, blue as hers. His own were deep brown.

“Can I put it on your head, Daddy?” Ritchie asked.

Marvin smiled. “All right, Ritchie.” He had to lean over and Ritchie put it on his head, a red ice bag, which his wife favored for those mornings after the night before.

As Marvin shifted back into bed, Ritchie said. “I’m staying home all week, too.” and he giggled, for him, it was a vacation.

A happy expedient occurred to Marvin. “Well, long as you’re going to be hanging around the house all day with me, you can be the one who answers my bell.” And he picked it up, gave it a ring. “You hear that, it means I need something, so you come running and I’ll tell you what it is and you can get it for me.” He wouldn’t have to ask Mrs. Callen for anything if Ritchie could do it.

Mrs. Callen came up. “Now what do you want?” she snapped.

“Nothing, Mrs. Callen.” Marvin said. “Ritchie will answer the bell and come get you if it’s not something he can handle.”

“That’s fine with me. He can nursemaid you.” she said and shut the door again.

“I’m not a nurse!” Ritchie said indignantly.

“Of course you’re not.” Marvin said soothingly. “You’re just going to take care of me.”

“That’s what nurses do, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.” Marvin admitted. “Or doctors do it, too.”

“Yeah, I’m a doctor!” Ritchie said. “I’m Doctor Ritchie.”

“That’s right, Doctor Ritchie.” Marvin said.

“I’ll go get my doctor’s kit!” Ritchie said, and ran out.

“Oh, shit!” Marvin said to himself. Ritchie was a seven-year-old kid stuck at home all week. And Marvin was about to find himself the de facto babysitter and playmate! Suddenly he did feel really ill. Truly, physically ill. Putting up with a noisy young boy all week long when he should be concentrating on getting better....

Ritchie came back with his “doctor’s kit,” a play toy set. “And how are we feeling today?” he said in imitation of Dr. Werten earlier that day.

“Pretty lousy.” Marvin admitted with a grin.

“Have to give you an examination.” Ritchieie pontificated. “Have you fixed up in no time.”

“That’s good to know.” Marvin said. “My last doctor said it’d take a week.”

Ritchie pulled out his toy stethoscope and put it in his ears. He again imitated Dr. Werten as he listened to Marvin’s heart. And like Dr. Werten, he undid Marvin’s pajama top and thumped on his dad’s chest. “How does that feel?” he asked.

“I’m okay.” Marvin said.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Ritchie asked.

“No, son.” Marvin said.

Ritchie began to rub his father’s chest, feeling out the muscles. Marvin had always worked out regularly (appearance counted in the legal profession), and Ritchie had been staring at his body every time Marvin would be shirtless around him. He was taking this chance, Marvin knew, to actually feel his body. “Does it hurt when I do this?”

“No, son.” Marvin said. “Feels good.”

That made Ritchie braver. “Have to give you a thorough examination.” He said. “Make sure everything’s okay.”

Ritchie’s hand went down below Marvin’s waist. Marvin wasn’t wearing anything under his pajama bottoms, Ritchie’s hand went right onto his cock and Marvin gasped. “Ooh!” his breath sounded out.

“Did that hurt, daddy?” Ritchie asked him. His hand didn’t leave his father’s prick.

“No, son, no.” Marvin said. “I’m okay.”

“This feels all swollen.” Ritchie said. “Does it hurt?”

“Uh, no.” Marvin said. His cock was swelling, all right, getting hard. And his son’s hand was right on it. “I’m fine, really.” he choked out.

“I’d better check this out.” Ritchie said firmly.

Marvin tried to tell him to stop, but his words froze in his throat. All he did was utter a low, strangled groan as his son pulled his pajamas down and freed his cock, standing hard and tall before his son’s amazed eyes.

“Wow, that’s really all swelled up.” Ritchie said.

“Yeah, Ritchie.” Marvin said. “It gets like that sometimes, honest, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

And that’s as far as he got when Ritchie’s hand grabbed hold of it.

Illustration of Playing Doctor

“Ooh, it’s hot, too. Is it running a fever? Gee, it’s throbbing, too!”

Ritchie brought his stethoscope up and pressed the plastic tip against his father’s dong. The plastic was warm from touching his chest, and Ritchie’s hand was holding his cock, holding him, holding him tight!

“That sounds funny.” Ritchie opined as he let go of his stethoscope. “We need to get this to go down, this much swelling can’t be good for you.”

“It’ll...it’ll go down.” Marvin gasped. “It always does.”

“Does it go down all by itself?”

“It can.” Marvin said. “Or...” He gulped. “Someone can help you make it go down again.”

“How do I do that?” Ritchie marveled.

“You...” Marvin gulped again. “You have to kind of work it up and down....”

“Oh, you mean like this!” Ritchie said and began to work his dad’s pud like a pro! Marvin gasped out his startlement and sat up straighter.

“My God, Ritchie!” he strangled out. “Where did you learn this?”

“Oh, my friends and me do this at nights all the time.” Ritchie said. “But theirs aren’t nearly as big as yours, Daddy! And yours is so warm!”

“Uh, uh, oh, baby, my baby boy!” Marvin sighed. “Baby that feels so good.”

“Daddy?” Ritchie asked as he pumped Marvin’s cock.

“Yeah, son?” Marvin choked out.

“What’s it mean to suck someone’s dick?”

“Uh, uh, who said that to you?”

“Just heard it around school.” Ritchie said.

God, his son’s hand was driving him crazy! Marvin groaned and tried to do his duty as a father. “It...it means you do...like you are now....only you...use your mouth!” he started.

“Like this?” and Ritchie put his mouth over his daddy’s prick.

“Ohhhh, Go-o-o-o-d!” Marvin moaned. “Yeah, baby, like that. Just work it up and down like you were. Oh, baby, oh!”

Ritchie took more coaching than that, but he learned quick enough. He knew not to let his teeth get in the way and as for the rest, he summarized it nicely when he said, “Just like sucking on a candy pop, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, baby.” Marvin said. “Ooohh, bay-beeeee! Mmmmmm, God, you feel so good baby!”

Ritchie pulled a long, hard draw on Marvin’s prick and let go. “Mmm, Daddy, it’s tasting kind of salty now. A little sticky.”

“Oh, oh, baby, that’s something a man’s dick does.” Marvin murmured. “When you make his dick feel good, it lets out that salty, sticky stuff. You keep it up, there’ll be a whole lot of it.”

“Mmm, I like it.” Ritchie said. “Tastes nice.” And he dove back onto his father’s cock, sucking that big man-pop greedily, his tongue lapping off his daddy’s precome as quick as it oozed out.

That little tongue was driving Marvin wild. He was groaning.

“Oh, Daddy!” Ritchie groaned. “Your peter is getting so hot, daddy!”

“It’s going to shoot that stuff you want real soon, baby.” Marvin panted. “Keep on sucking me, baby, suck it all out. All of it, baby!”

Ritchie slurped his daddy’s pud with a will and Marvin keened in delicious agony. “Oh, ooh, oooohhhhhh!” he moaned. “I’m going to shoot it, baby.” he sputtered. “Here it comes now, baby, hold on tight, hold on ti-i-i-i-i-ight! GUH-HNNNNN-NNNNGGHHH!”

And he was creaming his wad right into his son’s hot little mouth, his baby boy was hanging on and drinking noisily in gulps, and Marvin felt that mouth working on his pud, sucking, really sucking him down! He squirted and spurted, and Ritchie choked only once, and then he held back on and sucked his daddy’s prick until every last, creamy drop was drunk right down.

Ritchie crawled up his daddy’s body and into Marvin’s arm and Marvin kissed his son’s lips, tasting his jizz on his baby’s lips. “Oh, God, baby, I love you, son, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.” Ritchie said, and he snorted. A small driplet of Marvin’s come dribbled out of one nostril and Marvin smiled, reached up and wiped it off with his finger.

“Looks like you got some up your nose.” he observed.

“Yeah, Daddy, you were right, you shot a whole lot of it, all at once.” Ritchie said. “That was so cool!”

“Cool, huh?” Marvin said. And he tapped Ritchie’s nose with his finger, and Ritchie giggled. “You liked it, huh, son?”

“Oh, yeah, Daddy.” Ritchie said. “And you were right, it went right on down. All the swelling is gone.”

To prove his point, Ritchie grabbed his daddy’s prong and Marvin felt that warm, tender, small hand on his prick and it jerked, fattened in his son’s hand.

“I think it’s swelling up again.”

“It does that.” Marvin said. “All the time.”

“How do you take care of it by yourself?” Ritchie asked.

“Well, that’s supposed to be what your mother and I do, is take care of this.” Marvin said. He couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice. He wanted his wife to have a career, but hell, he also wanted her home in his bed and willing. And he’d been really short-changed on that, more and more as the years went on.

Ritchie knew his mother wasn’t home as much as his daddy wanted her to be. “Well, Daddy, you got me, now. Any time Mommy can’t take care of this, you just come get me, okay?”

“Okay.” Marvin said. “You got yourself a deal, sport. And I’ll show you other things we can do if you want to.” Like what it felt like for Ritchie to have his daddy suck that tiny wienie of his. Right now, though, he’d been sick and moving much at all didn’t feel good at all. “Time for another dose of medicine.” he said to himself and to Ritchie. “Ritchie, baby, can you get me a glass of cold water? And tell Ms. Callen I’d like some lunch in about another hour if she doesn’t mind. Something light, nothing greasy. You got that?”

“I got it, Daddy.” Ritchie said. He got up and trotted out the door and Marvin lay back to enjoy his illness.

Ritchie sucked his dick twice more that afternoon, the second time nearly six o’clock, after Ms. Callen had gone home. It worried him; if his wife came home on time, she could have caught them. But she often worked late, and this was no difference. It was close to eight o’clock when she arrived, toting some Chinese food as her contrite contribution to motherhood and wifehood.

“How are you doing?” she asked as she came in, the boxes of Chinese food on the tray. Ritchie was cuddled up next to Marvin. “Did you two have any trouble today?”

“Not at all.” Marvin said. “Ritchie answered my bell for me and he’s taken good care of me.”

“I was daddy’s doctor.” Ritchie giggled. “I gave him a really good examination.”

Marvin wondered if his wife would follow-up that line, but she had something else on her mind. “You’ll be ready to go back to work on Monday, yes?” she said.

“Ought to be.” Marvin agreed.

“I don’t want to be running out on you, but the firm wants me to go work on a case they have back in Chicago. I’d be out there for four to six months, but I could fly back on weekends.” He could hear the reluctance in her voice as she added that, she’d rather stay in Chicago those months.

“Sounds like a great opportunity for you.” Marvin said. “Look, Ritchie isn’t any trouble to take care of these days, and I ought to cut back on work for a while after I go back anyway, not stress myself out. Why don’t you take that job, I’ll do a forty-hour work week while you’re gone, and Ritchie and I will take care of each other while you’re gone.”

His wife beamed happily. So did Ritchie.

“Yeah, Mommy.” Ritchie said. “I’ll take as good care of Daddy as you ever did!”

“You sure will, twerp.” Marvin said fondly as he rumpled Ritchie’s hair. “You sure will.”

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