After the party

The next day, my wife finally came home.

I’d spent the whole night editing photos of Leon—the same hot pool scenes over and over—and thinking about Mia almost obsessively. I’d even taken her half-full coconut shake out of the fridge and sipped it, just to somehow feel like she was with me. But my dick stayed dead. No reaction. I really have to see a doctor on Monday, I thought.

Then I heard the key in the door.

My wife walked in—freshly showered, beaming, with that satisfied, slightly mischievous smile I rarely see on her. She looked like she’d been fucking all weekend and had regained ten years of youth in the process.

“So? How was it?” I asked.

She came over to me, sat on my lap, and kissed me long and deeply.

“It was amazing… and I have a surprise for you,” she said happily.

“What kind of surprise?”

She bit her lower lip, her cheeks turning pink.

“I talked Leonie into a threesome with the two of us this weekend.”

I was totally floored. My mouth dropped open.

“How the hell did you pull that off?”

“It was just such an amazing weekend. You were right. Leonie had so much fun with me… and at some point she said, ‘We can’t leave Jan out of this anymore. We have to include him.’ She made the suggestion herself.”

My wife looked at me with sparkling eyes.

“We’re going to reenact the sex scene from that movie we saw together back then. You know… the one where the woman gets caught in her own marital bed. I’ll be the one tied up. On all fours, blindfolded, completely at her mercy. Leonie will already be playing with me when you get home. You’ll ‘catch’ us. And then you get to fuck both of us as punishment. All night long. As hard and as long as you want. Leonie really wants to get to know you… and I want you to take both of us.”

She stroked my cheek.

“Do you think that’s hot?”

I was shocked. Hot. And at the same time, I was incredibly worried because my cock still wasn’t reacting—not even to this fantasy.

My wife misinterpreted my silence and asked uncertainly:

“Was that not a good idea? Should I cancel it?”

“No!” I said quickly and pulled her tighter onto my lap. “Don’t cancel it under any circumstances. Let’s plan it exactly like that for Friday. Leonie should come over. The two of you can get started… and I’ll catch you. You’ll be the center of attention—and I’m going to fuck both of you until you can’t walk anymore.”

She smiled with relief and kissed me again, this time really passionately.

“So Friday… I can’t wait.”

I smiled back, while only one thought circled in my head:

Friday.

By then, my dick had to be working again. Whatever it took.

The next day, I called the urologist right away.

It wasn’t that easy to get an appointment, but my wife had happened to leave a prostate screening invitation lying on the kitchen table. No idea why she’d put it there—maybe she already suspected that I hadn’t been able to get it up for weeks because we hadn’t been having sex. I called first thing Monday morning and actually managed to get an appointment for Tuesday.

The office was modern and sterile, almost too clean. The doctor was a young, tall, Black man, maybe in his mid-30s, with broad shoulders and a calm, deep voice. He asked me a thousand questions—pre-existing conditions, medications, stress, lifestyle. Then came the uncomfortable part:

“And any unusual sexual practices lately? Multiple partners? Any particular preferences?”

I just shook my head. He nodded and finally said:

“Good. Then let’s do the physical exam now. Please take off your pants and kneel on the bench.”

I did it. With my bare ass, on all fours.

He put on gloves, grabbed a huge tube of lube, and said matter-of-factly:

“First, the prostate exam.”

He coated his fingers thickly with lube, positioned one finger, and pushed it slowly but firmly into my ass. Then the second. I clenched my teeth. He probed deep, circled, pressed.

“The prostate feels a little swollen…” he muttered, pressing more deliberately.

And then it happened.

My damn body completely betrayed me. While his two thick fingers were deep inside my ass, massaging my prostate, my cock became rock-hard within seconds. Hard as a rock. Dripping. Throbbing. Without me being able to do anything about it.

When he pulled his fingers out again, I sat up. He immediately saw my full erection.

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Seems like everything’s working after all,” he said dryly.

I stammered, red with shame: “That… that’s an absolute exception. Normally, nothing’s been working for weeks. Viagra didn’t help either…”

He looked skeptical, but nodded.

“Physically, I can’t find anything unusual. It could be psychological. If you want to be absolutely sure, we can do a colonoscopy. That would be uncomfortable, though—you’d be put under light sedation for it.”

I thought of Friday. Of my wife. Of Leonie. Of the role-play we’d planned.

“I’ll do it,” I said immediately.

The next few days were hell.

I had to fast, do enemas, flush out my colon—all for the exam. On Thursday morning, I lay on the table on an empty stomach, was sedated, and woke up three hours later with a burning, sore asshole.

The doctor came to see me later.

“Everything looks normal. No organic causes. It’s very likely psychologically induced—too much pressure, anxiety about expectations. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

He prescribed me a different medication than Viagra—something new that was supposed to work better for psychological blocks.

“Take it two hours beforehand. And relax.”

I just nodded.

Friday was coming up.

And I had no idea if the stuff would work—or if I’d be facing Leonie and my wife with a dead dick.