Bloody Semen

The story of my prostate biopsy

The Biopsy

First a little detail on the biopsy itself. What they do is stick a probe up your ass that has a hypodermic needle they use to numb the prostate, and a spring-loaded device that they aim and trigger to puncture through the rectum wall into the prostate to pull back a little piece of tissue. I never got to see the device, but I imagine it looked like something out of a Terry Gilliam film.

When they were ready to get underway they had me strip from the waist down and basically lie in the fetal position on my left side on the examination table. The urologist stuck his finger in my anus for two reasons: one was to refresh his memory of what my prostate felt like, and two (I kid you not) to get me lubed up. And by the way, when my regular doctor gives me a prostate exam, it feels like when you get a finger bonus during a good blowjob. But this urologist was a lot more thorough. When he stuck his finger up there he really went side to side and up and down to feel every part of the prostate he could reach. It was a surprise the first time he did it, but at least I was prepared this time. Honestly it was the worst part of all of the whole procedure. If it had been a kink session I would have been calling out, "Yellow! Yellow!" But I had to put up with it.

When they stuck the probe in it was almost soothing by comparison to the recal exam. It wasn't too big, and they didn't stick it in very far. It was touch and go as they gave me the 2 shots to numb the prostate ("You might feel a mild burning sensation"), and before I knew it they were ready to start poking holes. This was all done with the aid of ultrasound so that they can see what's going on and target specific areas, and the first thing the urologist said when they got underway was, "There's nothing to target." I took that as an encouraging sign. But they still had to get some samples to be sure.

He alerted me before he did the first one. The probe made a sound like a toy suction-cup gun firing, and I felt just the littlest push deep down inside me there. It was nothing, frankly. But then he did another. And another. And another. After a while I was getting sick of it. When I started wondering when it would be over, he said, "Okay we're half-way there." Oh god. I tried not to think of how this was making Swiss cheese out of my most intimate gland, nor visualize what was actually happening inside. Finally he said, "Okay, just 2 more," and then, "last one," for an even lucky 13 tissue samples.

They pulled the probe out, warned me about signs of bleeding and possible infection, and sent me on my way. I started taking Tylenol immediately so that by the time the shots wore off the pills would already be taking effect. Other than the fact that my next bowel movement looked like a miscarriage, I honestly didn't have any after effects.

The Shinanegans

Once it was all over, my mind went to one place: bloody semen. I knew that a side-effect of a prostate biopsy is that there will be blood in the semen. And I'm thinking, I gotta use this. I can't let an opportunity like this go by. My first thought was to shoot a video of me squirting bloody cum on some guy's face or something, and send it around the porn festival circuit. By coincidence I had access to the same guy who helped me shoot "Deepthroat Study #27" but he was super unreliable, and we weren't really getting along.

There was a naked party at the Syracuse bathhouse that Saturday, so I decided that was my best opportunity. With no advanced warning I could blow a bloody load in front of everyone and create a real spectacle. It was still Tuesday, so I had lots of time to get ready. I wanted this to be a big load, even on my scale, so I planned out a multi-day build-up. I kept my mind off sexual thoughts and my hands off my dick the rest of that day and all day Wednesday. It wasn't difficult, considering the emotional journey of a prostate biopsy doesn't exactly put one in a sexy mood. But on Wednesday night I got the good news that the biopsy was clean, which understandably improved my mood, and was a green light to start sexing things up in preparation for Thursday.

I played with myself off and on for the next couple days, never letting myself orgasm. It worked like a charm. When I finally got to the bathhouse and took my clothes off, my dick got hard immediately and stayed that way the rest of the night. It was a pretty good crowd. I got lots of blowjobs and fucked a couple asses. One guy in fetish gear carrying around a riding crop talked me into letting him flog me a little, which actually turned out to be kind of stimulating.

But through all of this, I wasn't feeling anywhere near an orgasm. I was hot to trot for sure, but no one had even gotten me close all evening. And one thing I've learned from past ejaculatory performances is that my dick tells me when he's ready to cum, I don't tell him, and the harder I try to make him, the more he'll resist. Nothing is worse than having a crowd of onlookers expecting to see a Toaph gusher and nothing happens.

Even when it started getting late and I had my poppers in hand, I just wasn't feeling like I was going to cum. But then I wound up in the video room next to some old guy who casually started playing with my dick. I was thinking it was kinda nice. With all the extreme, acrobatic sex that gay men have, really what I like best is just a nice simple hand job. I started getting into it. I took another whiff of the poppers. The guy could sense I was responding, so he adjusted and started jerking me off properly. I spread my legs and let him go at it. I was thinking, this could do it.

I was working up my nipples, and sure enough I could feel things starting to happen deep down. I didn't have my towel handy to cum on, but there was clear floor out in front of me that I could clean up afterwards. I had hoped for a crowd to witness this, but it was just the two of us, and it would have to do, because I was feeling it was time to commit. I let the guy go on as it kept building, and pretty soon we were approaching the point of no return. It started happening, and at the last possible second I took over to finish it. Bingo. My body froze, my toes curled, my phallus went rigid, and everything tightened until it finally let loose. It was a perfectly executed, fully engrossing orgasm that enraptured me as I let loose the first shot.

Normally I keep my eyes closed when I cum, but in this case I had to see what it looked like. As the squirts started coming, I opened my eyes. The lighting was dim, mostly the glare of the pornographic video on the jumbo television screen, but through it I bore witness to one of the most extreme sights I've ever beheld. I had assumed that there would be some streaks of blood in the white goo, but what was shooting out of me was solid crimson. An electric orgasm was raging through every tissue in my body while voluminous spurts of deep red liquid were erupting out of my fat cock. And this was like a classic Toaph cumshot of old. It just kept cumming and cumming and cumming, and all of it like from a crime scene.

Finally I was fully drained, but I continued stroking myself a while longer as I enjoyed the last vestiges of the fading orgasm. I was so completely sexually satisfied, and the spectacle had played out even better than I had imagined, and it had been a wonderful night, and I had just dodged a cancer bullet, and I thought how very much I enjoy my life and the way I'm free to live it, and as I finally stopped stroking my still-hard dick and sat there motionless, I actually giggled a little bit out of pure joy. I wondered what the guy next to me thought of all this. From his perspective, it was like I was some demon creature from an x-rated Dungeons & Dragons game or something, who ejaculates blood in buckets, and laughs when it's all over. I was wondering how he would react. All he said was, "Do you always cum blood?" I told him that I'd just had a biopsy. I fetched my towel from its hiding place and mopped up the floor. When I was done it looked like it had been used for first aid on a stabbing victim who probably didn't survive. I knew I couldn't hand it back in like that, or the attendant would run into the back looking for the body.

On the way out when I handed in my towel, I had to also explain to the attendant so that he didn't think someone had been stabbed or something. On the long, peaceful drive back home, I became aware of my prostate inside my body. I could actually feel it. It was kind of warm, and felt good for having expelled all that fluid. It didn't feel abused or injured for having been poked and prodded. It felt young and ready for action. And I felt like we had a new relationship, my prostate and me. And I hope that we have many more happy years together.