A Likely Story: A Wayward Ink Publishing Anthology (20 page)

Jeans puddled at ankles, revealing fire-engine-red boxer briefs, and I’m still cemented to the spot.

Troy is kneeling before Samuel, helping him toe off his joggers, and still I’m standing. I think my feet have put down roots. I shouldn’t be surprised at their intimate action considering what we’ve discussed over the weeks, but it’s still a beautiful thing to behold, and, yes, a sexy one.

Oh sweet Jesus
. Troy leans in and places a chaste kiss on the bulge in Samuel’s briefs while looking up at him adoringly through his lashes.
Move, feet, move!

Troy grabs Samuel’s hand and shuffles backward, bringing his lover with him. “Come watch a movie with me, babe.”

And I’m still standing and watching. Honestly, what chance do I have of making my errant cock behave if I can’t even get my legs to obey me?

A wriggle and a squirm later they’re settled on a mound of cushions, Samuel leaning back against Troy, and both looking up at me expectantly.

“Right-e-oh, chaps. I’ll be off then.”

And with strides that more closely resemble my wading through mud, I depart.

For the first half of the film, other than the occasional rustle of the cushions, the only sounds penetrating my little control center were those of the movie. To say I was tempted to take a peek at the boys is an understatement. A couple of times, I even half rose from my chair before professional ethics compelled me to retake my seat and at least make an attempt at writing up my notes.

And then it came. The hint of a sigh. A rustle. A series of muffled groans.

Without seeing or listening I knew which part of the movie they were up to—the part where the sexual tension breaks and the two young men finally succumb to their attraction and make love for the first time. Seemed my guys were doing their own succumbing.

I didn’t need to go to the two-way mirror: I could picture it.

Troy would be kissing Samuel’s neck, licking his throat, nibbling his ear, maybe tweaking his nipples, all the while murmuring his love and want.

And Samuel would protest half-heartedly at first but then just melt, whispering his love in return.

Troy would extricate the beautiful beast confined within Samuel’s briefs… would stroke the beast until he purred.

A soft mewl.

This one from me.

And then my beast was in my hands and he too was purring. …

Then roaring. …

And then. …

Making a bloody mess.

Bollocks! Sod it! Sod it to hell! How on earth am I going to cover up what looks like a bleeding gallon of cum on my pants?

I must admit it took me a moment or two to remember the small closet in the corner where I routinely keep a change of clothes for when I’m going out straight after work. Truly, there is nothing like a climax, especially an unexpected, not to mention illicit, one, to addle the brain.

Not that I am out of the woods yet—it will be a bloody miracle if Troy and Samuel don’t notice I’ve changed my navy blue dress pants for a pair of jeans.

I scan the room looking for inspiration to explain my change in attire. I dive on my coffee cup. Yes! Still half full. Sitting back down I pour the coffee over my crotch and just for good measure, over my notes.

I can hear the final credits music. Time is running out. I curse loudly in the hope the guys will hear me, trying to set the scene—it’s a long shot, but worth a try. Quicker than Superman, I shed my trousers and don my jeans before roughly folding my trousers, coffee stain prominently displayed. I grab my notes, coffee stain once again on show, and head for the door.

Clearing my throat loudly, I pause with my hand on the door knob, listening to what’s happening in the other room. The chuckles and whispers tell me they’ve been busy too.

I give them another ten seconds before opening the door and rejoining them.

“So, how did you find the film, guys?”

It’s hard not to laugh—Samuel couldn’t look guiltier if he tried. My gaze goes to Troy’s hand which is resting on Samuel’s lower belly and I spy a spatter or two of cum. Troy, following my gaze, smiles sheepishly, bringing his hand to his mouth, quickly sucking the evidence away, and giving me a conspiratorial wink at the same time.

“It was good, thank you, Justin.”

“Yes, better than I thought it would be,” adds my ever blushing Quaker.

“Brilliant. I’m giving you a copy to take home with you. I want you to watch it a second time before our next session. I often find I get, ah, more out of a movie on the second viewing.”

“You know, Justin,” Troy says, rising and helping Samuel to do the same, “you give the best homework assignments.”

Samuel bends to retrieve their jeans, passing Troy’s his as he straightens. I can’t help watching as they dress, trying not to notice the damp patches on their briefs, but of course, I fail miserably. The spots might as well have been magnets for my eyes. At least this time the sight doesn’t have me fighting my disobedient cock. The joys of being forty—my cock needs time to rise to the occasion a second time in one night!

And just when I’d almost forgotten my own mishap. …

“Did you have a run in with your cup of coffee?” asks Samuel, indicating my trousers and session notes.

“Ah yes, terribly clumsy of me.”

“Happens to the best of us,” quips Troy, winking at me. Innocent Samuel might believe my hastily assembled lie, but my guilty conscience suspects that Troy sees right through me.

“Yes, I’m afraid I was so engrossed in writing up my notes that the, ah, climax of the movie took me by surprise.”

As the boys head to the door Samuel’s fierce whisper reaches me. “I told you he heard us.”

Session Seven

THIS IS ridiculous. I don’t know who is more nervous—Samuel or me. At this very moment, my fifteen years of clinical experience is proving about as useful as tits on a bull. Today is D-Day, or as Troy teasingly said as soon as he walked through the door, TGF-Day—Troy Getting Fucked Day.

In contrast to Samuel and me, he is looking chipper and practically bouncing off the walls. Someone, it seems, is very keen to take Samuel’s behemoth up his Khyber Pass.

That’s what we decided.

That Troy would be the first. The theory being, that if he could accommodate Samuel’s python, then Samuel taking Troy’s marginally smaller cock shouldn’t prove an issue. Plus the knowledge would help Samuel relax even more when the time came, thus expediting matters, so to speak.

So why am I nervous?

Because the guys have decided to consummate their relationship here. In my offices. In my presence. With my assistance.

In itself that isn’t that unusual. I’ve done it before. I would undoubtedly do it again. But with Troy and Samuel. …

Time to take the bull, or perhaps I should say, the python, by the ‘horn’.

“Guys. If I could have a word, please.”

They both halt mid-undress.
Christ on a cracker he’s quick
. Troy has not wasted time—he’s down to his boxer briefs. I can’t help noticing he’s already sporting a semi. Samuel, on the other hand, has only half unbuttoned his shirt and I can see his fingers are shaking.

“Troy. Samuel.” I take a deep breath. “I feel duty-bound to confess to you that it will be a struggle for me to remain unmoved by what is about to happen between you. Yes, I’m a sex therapist, but I’m also a man, a gay man. I can’t guarantee I won’t become sexually aroused. I apologize for my late realization of the fact that I can’t guarantee my impartiality. If it’s your preference I can remove myself to another one of my rooms, communicate with you via an ear mic, and be close on hand should you feel you need me. I will leave you alone for a few minutes to discuss how you wish to proceed.”

I didn’t quite make it to the door.

“Justin.”

No surprises—it’s Troy calling my name. I turn.

“Stay. It’s because of you that Sam and I have made it this far. We want you to see this through with us to the end. Right, Sam?”

I shift my gaze to Samuel and I can’t help but smile—he’s nodding, his face pink. “Um, yes please. I like you watching—”

My eyebrows hit my hairline.

“Um, crap! Um, what I mean is, um, I perform bet-, I mean I feel more confident—I-I mean—”

I can’t help speculating on Samuel’s nervous, unscripted responses. Have our sessions together opened the door to more than their backsides? Has Samuel discovered his kinky side?

Troy cradled Samuel’s face, kissing him and laughing at the same time. “Babe, I love you, but let’s leave it at you want Doc to see this thing through with us.”

“Okay.”

“Um… Yes. Well, then… let’s set the scene shall we?”

To cover my awkwardness and excitement I walk over to the console and fiddle with switches. The next thing, lights have dimmed and Barry White is crooning-cum-growling
this night we’re gonna get it on.

Bollocks! Wrong playlist!

Troy and Samuel immediately burst out laughing.

With my face as flushed as Samuel’s has been upon occasion within these walls, I quickly queue the playlist specially arranged by the guys with their own song choices. The Aerosmith hit
Don’t Want To Miss A Thing
fills the room, the first of many surprises in their playlist. For two young college guys their taste has certainly proved eclectic.

Troy takes only a moment to join in, singing softly as he removes Samuel’s fingers from the hem of his shirt, taking over the unbuttoning himself. The sight has my cock stirring in my pants. Not two minutes in and I’m already flunking out in Professionalism 101.
God I’ve become as bad as Miss Morecock!

As if sensing my failure, Troy stops singing and turns to me. “Strip down to your undies, Doc. If you’re going to crack a boner you may as well do it in comfort.”

“Um, I promise that though my cock may, ah, have a mind of its own and misbehave, my hands do not and will not.”

I may as well have kept my mouth shut—the guys are so focused on each other they’re oblivious to me.
Good. Maybe they won’t notice just
how
big a boner I crack
.

My shirt hit the floor the same time as Samuel’s. My trousers beat his by a full thirty seconds.

Samuel’s sharp inhalation of breath matches mine when Troy, on his knees before his lover, reaches up to unveil Samuel’s penis. Slowly, ever so slowly, Troy slides his fingers into the waistband of Samuel’s underwear, pulling down gently. Trapped, Samuel’s cock comes with it, until, so hard it can’t bend any more, it springs back to slap his belly. Troy hasn’t exaggerated—it
is
porn-worthy and should have a monument built to it, maybe several. In my mind’s eye I’m seeing row upon row facsimiles of Samuel’s penis. There’s a joke in the art world that goes something along the lines of ‘make it huge or makes lots of it’, so I guess hundreds of sculptures of Samuel’s cock satisfies both criteria.

Leaning in to kiss the tip, Troy whispers, “I can’t wait to have you inside me.”

At his words my cock jerks almost as much as Samuel’s does.

“Are you sure, Troy? Are you sure this is what you want?” Samuel’s on his knees too now, his hands cupping Troy’s face as he stares into his partner’s eyes.

“The only thing I’m more sure of is how much I love you.”
Okay. Heart is now mushy goo, but cock is still hard as rock.

Without a word being spoken, Samuel rises to his feet and leads Troy to the bed I pulled down from its hiding place in the wall prior to their appointment. Seeing Samuel take charge has me wanting to fist pump the air like the proud coach I guess, in a many ways, I am.

I move, too, positioning myself at an angle to the lovers so I’m not in their direct line of sight and continue to quietly observe them making out. Entwined they are every bit as beautiful and erotic as I always knew they’d be. The sight has my cock throbbing, silently insisting I take it in hand. I resist. I deserve a bleeding medal for resisting. That or be nominated for sainthood, or, at the very least, be allocated a halo.

Having a good imagination and being in touch with my own body is a curse disguised as a blessing, I decide, because at this moment it’s as if my eyes and hands are as one. It might be my eyes following the path of Samuel’s hands over Troy’s body, but it is my fingertips that tingle as if they’ve come into contact with skin… gloriously firm and muscled skin.

Watching them a
want
rises in me. In my lungs, my heart, my belly. I want them—want what they share. For the first time in a long while I miss sharing my life with someone special.

Movement on the bed saves me from the maudlin direction my thoughts are threatening to take me.
Dear sweet lord
. Troy is on his knees, head down and ass up, with Samuel trailing kisses down his back.

“Doc… Justin… help. … I want to do this right.”

At his words my body jerks forward as if I’m attached to a chain and the end has been yanked. Surprised, I stumble, landing face first against Samuel’s left ass cheek, which in turn pushes him forward, forcing the two fingers he’s been teasing Troy’s rosebud with to penetrate.

Troy yelps, though my experienced ear tells me it’s more in surprise than pain.

Samuel, so much less experienced, panics, withdrawing his fingers.

“No! I want more!”

Troy’s ass thrusting back at us leaves me in no doubt, but Samuel looks undecided.

It would seem Samuel’s nerves have gotten the better of him and he’s forgotten all he’s learned in our sessions together. It would be such a pity for them to fail now when they’re on the brink of success, and so I take matters into my own hands. I grab the lube from beside Troy’s knees, and then reach for Samuel’s hand, drizzling his fingertips generously. Looking him in the eye, I positively growl at him, “Prepare your man.”

He’s never heard me talk so commandingly and for a moment he hesitates, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Holding Samuel’s gaze, I place his fingertips on Troy’s bud, manipulating them in small circles, repeating my instruction. “Prepare your man.”

God bless him, he nods and sets about his task like an eager beaver student, desperate for an ‘A’ grade. Just as I’m about to step in to remedy his over-enthusiasm, he reins himself in and returns to lovemaking mode. Once again, it’s as if I’m not there.