Jock Physical Blaine Nicholas Intense

Dr. Blaine Nicholas was always a stickler for detail, especially when it came to his appearance. As a renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, he took great pride in his meticulous grooming and polished professionalism. But beneath that crisp white coat and lab coat was a secret side that he only allowed to surface behind closed doors.

It was a Friday evening and Blaine had just finished a long, tedious day of surgeries. As he stepped into his luxurious penthouse, the tension from the day began to melt away. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt as he made his way to his bedroom.

Once inside, he quickly shed his clothing, revealing his toned, hairless physique. Blaine was a proper otter – strong and athletic with an appealing dusting of chest hair. The manscaping didn’t stop there though. Below his sculpted abs was an impeccably waxed groin, showcasing his semi-erect cock.

Blaine walked over to his vanity and looked at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his thick, just-fucked hair and admired his appearance. A smirk played across his handsome features as he thought back to his early career when colleagues would half-jokingly ask if he had a little mancrush on himself. If they only knew the extent of his exhibitionism and narcissism.

Now, completely naked save for a pearl necklace, Blaine approached his bed. He laid out his medical scrubs, lab coat and stethoscope, getting into character for the night’s self-indulgent performance. As he stepped into his uniform pants and pulled on his dress shirt, he couldn’t resist his reflection. His dark, nicely-tailored slacks hugged his ass just right.

Feeling fully aroused now, Blaine moved to the edge of his bed and sat down. He spread his legs wide and ran his hands up and down his thighs, admiring how the pants rode up and framed his package. The ache between his legs was growing more intense by the second.

Unable to wait any longer, Blaine reached down and began to stroke himself through his pants. Small gasps and sighs escaped him, relishing in the stimulation. He reached up and unbuttoned his shirt a bit more, revealing more of his chest. Looking like a much naughtier version of a sexy paramedic, Blaine accelerated his impassioned rubbing.

Blaine’s eyes fluttered shut as his touch crept under the waistband of his slacks. He wrapped a calloused hand around his thick, hard cock and murmured approval at his own firmness. Pulling his underwear down just a bit, he freed himself completely and savored the feeling of stroking his bare shaft.

As he jerked himself faster, the intense pleasure caused his medical coat to pull open and hang loosely off his shoulders. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as the room filled with the sounds of his panting and the slick sounds of his eager stroking.

“Oh fuck,” Blaine groaned as he neared the brink of climax. His balls drew up tight and traveling waves of euphoria radiated out from his core. The universe seemed to zero in on the head of his cock and the warmth spreading through his groin.

In a burst of blissed-out expletives, Blaine cried out and exploded. Thick streams of cum burst from his slit and splattered across his arresting abdominal muscles and chest, leaving him covered in a pearlescent sheen. Blaine rode the aftershocks and relished in the feeling of his spunk dripping off the oars in a naughty parody of a healthy heart rate.

As he came down from his erotic high, Blaine looked up at the mirror and grinned at the sight of his debaucherous reflection. The ever-professional doctor was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a sexy, spent man with an insatiable appetite for self-appreciation. Blaine knew he would sleep well after such a gratifying session.

Cleaning himself up, Blaine stripped down nude once more and collapsed into his pillowy bed, letting the opulent mattress engulf him. He drifted off to sleep with visions of his next solo sesh spinning in his dreamscape.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Blaine, his secret sessions were about to be discovered. His nosy neighbor happened to quantitatively lack morals, and caught a very discerning glimpse of Blaine’s bedroom gymnastics. The douchebag would revel in having something to blackmail the insufferable pretty boy with, but Blaine was too far gone to care. It felt too good to stop now.