Loading...It was Friday night and the phone rang. I picked it up and was surprised to hear that it was my wife’s therapist. I knew about him, of course, but had never met or even spoken to him. He knew Sue was out of town for the week, so I was really caught off guard, and immediately worried by his call.
“Ken? This is John Everett. I think Sue has told you about me?”
“Yes. Is everything okay?”
“Oh sure, sorry to alarm you. I ..I just have something that I need to see you about.”
His voice sounded strange, maybe even like he was a little drunk, but not having spoken to him before, it was hard to tell.
“Well. Sure. I guess I can come see you sometime next week, if you like?”
“Are you available tomorrow evening?”
This was really strange. Appointments had always been hard for my wife to schedule with him because he doesn’t have any evening hours, never mind evening weekend hours. I was somewhere between really alarmed and totally taken aback. “Are you sure everything is okay? I guess I can meet with you tomorrow.”
“Really. Everything is fine. It’s just that I’ve been working with Sue for a while and I think that I really need to work some things out with you before I can help her any more. I’m just at home thinking about those things tonight and I think it’s best for all of us if we get right to it. I think these are things that we might want to work out while Sue is away and we can have some privacy without other people around at the office.”
“I guess. Well, I’ll meet you at the office tomorrow. What time?”
“8pm. There’s an intercom in the entryway, let me know when you get there and I’ll buzz the door for you to get in.”
I hung up and stared at the phone as if it might have the answers to my confusion. What the hell was all that about? Sue has a number of anxiety issues stemming from some things in her past and had been in and out of therapy for a number of years. She’d been seeing this one for a couple of years and seemed to make pretty good progress with him. She and I have had our issues over the years, but things were generally good between us. I didn’t really know how much time she spent talking to him about our relationship and always assumed that they mostly worked on her personal issues, rather than relationship issues. My mind whirred and now I wondered if he wanted to talk to me about things that Sue had brought up about us or if he was concerned about something else she’d told him, or what. It seems like he might have told me if he was worried about her, so I tried to dismiss it and just wait until tomorrow.
I arrived just prior to eight and pushed the button for the intercom. “Ken?” came the reply.
“Yes,” and the door buzzed.
I opened the door and started up the stairs and as I approached the top, I saw a man step from one of the doorways. He smiled and extended his hand, “Hi. I’m John.”
“Ken. Good to meet you.”
“Come on in Ken.”
I could swear that I could smell alcohol on his breathe when we greeted each other. This whole situation was really strange. We went through a small, neat reception area and into an office with a desk in the corner, and a sitting area with a small couch and with two chairs facing the couch. “Have a seat on the couch please,” he said as he took a seat in one of the chairs.
He started right in, “In the time that I’ve been working with Sue, the issue of trust and security in your relationship keeps coming up and I think it’s related to one issue.”
“Really, I’m not sure what you mean?”
“Sue is quite concerned that you’re bisexual and fears that you might even be gay.”
I felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut. All the air rushed out of me and I froze. Time froze and his words hung in the air. “What the fuck? Why would she say that?”
“Well, frankly I understand her concern.”
“What the hell do you mean?” I felt trapped. I was in a panic, more than angry.
“Well, Sue told me about your fantasies and the stories that you’ve written.”
Oh god. My heart raced. “What do you mean?” All I could think to do was to play dumb and deny.
“I think you know what I mean.”
Now I felt more on the run than ever. I was defensive. “Big deal. So I have a little fantasy about another guy once in a while. That doesn’t make me bi.” I couldn’t even think, never mind say, gay.
“Well, when Sue told me about the stories, that’s what I told her. After a while, she couldn’t seem to let it go and we started to talk about them in a little more detail and I began to see where her concerns were based. When she told me about how she found out, the feedback with your author name, I decided to find the stories and have a read for myself.”
As soon as he said this, humiliation and embarrassment washed over me. I’d been having same sex fantasies since my early teens and later, started writing them down. Before my wife and I had met and even occasionally since we’d been together, I’d submitted them to Literotica. Sue had apparently found some of the feedback emails and looked up the stories by the author name that I’d been using. I couldn’t believe that she’d read these stories. No wonder she’d wondered about me. I was certainly distracted by the idea that my wife knew about these stories, but that didn’t keep me from the panic of knowing that I was sitting in front of a man that had read them too. My fantasies had always been pretty hardcore and my writing quite graphic, but I’d never done any of these things! They were just fantasies. I blurted these things and a stream of denials and explanations at him as he sat passively and listened. “I’m not gay! They’re just fantasies!”
I’d nearly exhausted myself with my pleas and he just looked at me.
“Why do you suppose that you have these fantasies, if you’re not gay?”
“I don’t know, I guess it’s just the taboo part of it, maybe it just turns me on to think about doing something “bad””
I felt as if I was desperately trying to explain something away.
“Maybe, but I’ve read these stories,” as if I needed him to remind me right now, “and they’re really quite graphic. Don’t you think they’re rather extreme for someone that’s just doing something a little taboo?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled.
“Well, I must say, that the way you beg for cock and for all those men to cum all over your face in every one of your stories certainly seems to say something about you to me.”
Hearing him say this shocked me and filled me with anxiety and embarrassment, but that is exactly what I had written. I sat there silently.
“I’m not sure that someone that didn’t really want it to happen could write something quite so convincingly Ken. Don’t you think that maybe you’re not being completely honest with yourself? Don’t you think that maybe you really want to do all those things that you write about?”
“No.” I’m not sure who I was trying to assure by saying this. I was shaken by suddenly being put on the spot like this. I no longer really knew what to think.
“No? You aren’t wondering if maybe you really do want to suck cock? You’re not wondering if you’d find yourself begging for cum? You don’t think your cock would get hard from acting like the submissive cock slut you are in your stories? Don’t you wonder Ken?”
“No,” I barely croaked.
“I think you do Ken. I’m not sure you even wonder, I think you know. I think deep inside you know and you’re scared. I think you’re scared that once you got a cock in your mouth you’d do anything that was asked of you. Anything I asked of you to be able to keep sucking it.”
“What?” I said, truly shocked and unsure of what he’d said.
“Crawl over here. There’s only one way to find out if you’re a cocksucker.”
I froze.
“Now.”
I said nothing, but slid from the couch onto my knees in front of him.
He smiled and I could see the outline of his stiffening cock through his pants.
“Go ahead. Put your hand on me. Let’s find out about this curiosity of yours.”
Tentatively, my heart pounding, I resisted for a long moment and then I reached out and ran my hand across the bulge in his pants. My cock jumped and stiffened in mine. A noise escaped me.
He smiled again. “Take it out.”
Again, I wavered, but did as he told me. My hands went to his belt buckle and then his zipper and finally, I was sliding his pants and underwear down as he lifted his ass from the seat to free them. His cock sprung free as I slid them down and I gasped at the sight of it. He kicked his shoes off as I moved his pants down his legs and I pulled them free and returned my attention to the hard cock in front of me. My whole life I’d fantasized about sucking cock. I’d stroked myself thousands of time and cum thinking about it, but I’d never seen a hard cock for real. I didn’t wait, couldn’t wait, for him to say anything, I reached out and ran my hand over it.
This time, we both moaned.
I wrapped my hand around the shaft and felt its heat and the heft of it and slowly slid my hand up and down its hardness.
His hand moved to the back of my head and as he pulled me forward, he grunted, “Suck it.”
I took that hard cock into my mouth as I’d thought about so many times before and tentatively sucked for only a moment before I was overcome with desire and began to suck it with a need that had been pent up for years.
“Ahhh”, he moaned. “Oh yea. Yea, suck it. That’s it, oh fuck. Yea, jesus, you’re a fucking natural. Oh god yea. Suck that cock.” The intensity of his words increased the more he spoke and the intensity of my feverish sucking increased the more he spoke.
My hands had joined my mouth. They were slicked by the wetness of my mouth and one hand stroked him as I sucked and the other fondled his big balls. I sucked and stroked ravenously. I was consumed and was consuming him.
“Suck it. Oh fuck yea. You’re a fucking cocksucker. You were born for this. You were born to have my fucking fat cock in your mouth, weren’t you.”
“Yes.”
“Oh fuck yea. You’re not fucking curious, you’re a cocksucker. Tell me.”
“I’m your cocksucker.” Not a cocksucker, your cocksucker, is what I said.
He grinned, “Yea, You’re my cocksucker.” Thus even more emboldened, he pushed me back off his cock and as I fell back against the small couch behind me, he stood and moved to stand over me. He took hold of his cock with one hand and my hair with the other. “I’m going to fuck your mouth until I cum all over your face, just like you want. That’s what you want, isn’t it, for me to make you mine with my cum?”
He knew, of course. “Yes.”
“Yea,” he stroked, “you want to submit to me completely. You want me to own you. You want me to do anything I want to you. You want me to use you. You want me to dominate you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I panted. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Cum on your slut’s face.”
I could barely say it before he shoved his cock roughly into my mouth. He fucked my mouth as I slobbered and moaned. There was no question that he was giving me what I wanted. I wanted him to get off by fucking my mouth. I wanted him to cum from using me. More than anything, I wanted to feel his hot cum marking my face, marking me.
Suddenly he pulled my hair back and took hold of his cock, stroking it hard and fast. Those big balls pulled tight and a huge shot of cum flew onto my forehead. His cock throbbed for a moment and the first shot was followed by his full orgasm. His cum shot out and poured all over my face and I licked and moaned and squirmed trying get it all over my face and yet in my mouth at the same time. He collapsed against me, his knees pressed to the edge of the sofa on either side of my head, and ground his cock against my cum covered face. I continued to moan and eat his cum.
Finally, he stumbled back and collapsed into one of the chairs. “You can go now cocksucker. Be back here at 8pm tomorrow.”
I staggered to my feet and stumbled out of the room and, without even realizing where I was or what I was doing, I found myself in my car, wiping the cum from my face. I drove home in a daze, tired and confused about everything except where I’d be tomorrow night at 8pm.