A Likely Story: A Wayward Ink Publishing Anthology (19 page)

As the song nears its end, they search deep into the eyes of the other and, oh my dear sweet Lord, they kiss. They start with a simple peck and sucking of lips that develops into open-mouth caresses, their jaws and tongues doing a slow dance of their own.

Hallelujah, spank me now and send me to heaven, and while you’re at it pass me some tissues.

The final notes softly fade into nothingness and the boys are still swaying, still kissing, so I quickly cue the next song. It’s another Bryan Adam’s number—
Please Forgive Me
. Hey, the guy knows how to write and deliver a love song. If his soul-touching lyrics, or his husky, heart-in-his-mouth voice doesn’t get you in, maybe you need to check yourself for a pulse.

Not that Troy and Samuel are paying much attention to either Bryan or his music. They’re too busy paying attention to each other. Seeing the pair of them so lost in each other, their lips moving sensuously in the oldest dance known to man, I’m sighing in pleasure. It truly is one of the most wonderful sights I’ve ever been fortunate enough to witness. Every part of my body has turned to jello. Well, almost every part. …

Right now, I’m doing my own bit of asking for forgiveness—I’m enjoying the spectacle of these two beautiful men connecting with each other far too much. It might be my job to try and help bring about this kind of intimacy, but when you itch to grab a camera to capture it for posterity? Well, maybe you like seeing it a smidgen too much. …

Oh, boy, we have a development.
I can scarcely believe it, but Samuel, my sweet, shy Quaker boy, has tugged Troy’s tee over his head and tucked it into his own back pocket. God, my heart is pounding so hard I can’t hear poor Bryan.

Troy, with a drop-dead sexy smile, reciprocates and suddenly I have two bare-chested Adonis’ in my office. Not surprisingly, they are just gorgeous. Toned and sculpted like Greek statues—one all golden ivory, the other creamy alabaster.

Dear Sweet Lord, boxer briefs, let me introduce you to the floor ‘cause I have a trouser snake seeking freedom.

Please believe me, you pair are just too good to be true
, I silently ad-lib to the song,
Please forgive me, I can’t stop watching you.
I can’t help raising my eyes to the ceiling, certain that either Bryan or God is going to strike me with a bolt of lightning and turn me into a pile of ash for my sacrilegious bastardizing of Bryan’s song.

Their hips are swaying, their groins grinding, their hands are caressing, and their lips are worshipping… and I’m gripping the edge of my desk to stop myself from sinking into a puddle on the floor. I’m sure that at this moment in time the only hard things in my office are the three sets of boners we’re all undoubtedly sporting.

Unfortunately, being a professional sex therapist, my own rather spectacular reaction is inappropriate. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it is law suit material. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to pull my joystick from the constraints of my trousers without fear of litigation—at least then I could prop it on the desk to help keep me balanced and upright. Instead, all I get to do is seat myself so I can conceal my enjoyment of their intimacy. And let me just say: comfortable it is not.

As the final notes fade into the air I watch as they slowly come back to earth. Samuel’s eyes widen when he sees that both he and Troy are bare-chested; he seems surprised by the fact. As I continue to quietly study them, I can see a flush slowly creep up his neck and into his cheeks.

Rubbing his thumbs gently over Samuel’s now rosy cheeks, Troy leans in and places a chaste kiss on Samuel’s swollen lips.

Hugging Samuel close, almost hiding him within his arms and protecting their ‘reactions’ from my perusal, Troy turns his head to me and grins a little shyly. “Um, it would seem we got a little carried away, Justin.”

Time to speak, Justin! Find your voice, old chap.
I part my lips. My tongue feels thick and cumbersome. Nothing’s happening.
Come on, man, move your tongue. You’re a professional. Form a word.
And still nothing. …
Bollocks! Say something.
“Not at all, Troy. For our sessions together to work, I need you both to relax, trust me, and even forget I’m here sometimes.”
Hallelujah, there is a God! I even sound half-way normal!

Troy chuckles. “Well, in that case, I think we may be ‘A’ grade students today!” Samuel somehow manages to burrow in even closer to Troy’s chest, burying his face into his shoulder. At first I’m concerned, but then I see his shoulders shaking—he’s laughing. God bless his sweet shy soul.

“I think you may be right, Troy.” I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling in an ever so unmanly and unprofessional way. “And just let me say, I do so love to hand out ‘A’ grades, so bring your, ah, ‘A’ game next week too, gents!”

Session Six

I GLANCE at my watch. Three forty-five. Excellent. Just enough time to go over my notes from the last few sessions. And boy, what sessions they were! We’d covered relaxation techniques, verbal and non-verbal communication, and made inroads into Samuel’s size issues with our discussions. But best of all I’d introduced them to Butt Prep Therapy.

As naughty as it is I close my eyes and let my mind wander back to
that
particular session.

“Your four o’clock appointment is here, Dr. Gaylord.”

I rest my forehead on my desk, giving my ears a moment to recover from Miss Morecock’s nasal fog horn assault, interrupting my ever so pleasant daydream before I’d even gotten to the juicy part. I sigh—the day is fast approaching when I’ll need to make a choice: either blow out my ear drums to make myself deaf or sever her vocal chords… and I need my hearing in order to help my patients. …

“Send Troy and Samuel in, please, Miss Morecock.”

Watching the pair of them almost bounce into the room, I marvel at the difference in demeanor five sessions has made, especially in Samuel.

“Justin, I took the second biggest plug last night and Troy the biggest. I think we’re almost ready.”

Yes, most definitely a lot more confident. The Samuel of the first session would never have voluntarily shared such intimate revelations. Even the blush staining his cheeks is as much from proud excitement as from embarrassment at what he has just said. Who’d have guessed he’d be so enthusiastic after the way he’d hidden behind his long fringe when I’d demonstrated how they would need to prepare each other for the butt plugs on the anatomically correct male genitalia and bottom dummy. Then the tips of his ears had been so vibrant a shade of red as to be borderline neon.

Still, his reaction was to be expected and appropriate to the situation—mine had not been. Truly, my cock seems to have taken on a life of its own when it comes to Troy and Samuel. Most inconvenient, not to mention, uncomfortable.

I turn my attention to Troy to gauge his feelings about Samuel’s outburst. I smile—Troy is beaming, looking like a man who has been awarded the winner’s trophy in a heavily contested battle. And I guess he has. Butt plug versus sphincter and butt plug won. Yes, Butt Plug: 1, Sphincter: Nil. Of course, Butt Plug had more than a little help from Libido and Desire, and let’s not forget Lube would have been smoothing the way as well. Really, it was probably more an ambush than a battle. Sphincter never stood a chance.

Not that victory came without a price—Troy’s stride is a little more gingerly than is usual for him. Despite this, he is clearly as proud as punch at having managed to take the biggest plug from the collection I provided them with during our momentous third session together. The set contains two of each size, and let me just say the largest is, well… sizeable. Troy should be proud, and Sphincter shouldn’t feel bad at having lost the battle to such a worthy adversary, ambushed or not.

I can’t help myself when they take their seats opposite me, cautiously adjusting their positions, and I grin. “Your butt, like any other muscle, will get used to the, ah, exercise you’re giving it.”

“Thank god for that,” mutters Troy before turning to Samuel and grinning as he nudges Samuel’s shoulder with his own.

Seeing Samuel duck his head, blushing furiously, I can tell my shy Quaker boy is still alive and well under this evening’s bouncier version.

“Yes, it’s all about conditioning and practice.”

Now it’s Troy who can’t help himself, but I notice he squeezes Samuel’s hand as he delivers his teasing banter. “So, what you’re saying, Doc, is we need to do this often.”

“Twice daily.” I play along, suppressing my laughter at Samuel’s shocked gasp. “At least until your bottoms are ready for the equivalent of the Butt Olympics.”

“What? Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh my god!”

As much as I’m tempted to keep the ruse up, Samuel’s breathless squeak of reply stops me in my tracks, reminding me I am, actually, his therapist.

“My apologies, Samuel. I couldn’t resist teasing you. In truth, no. It would be best to give your bottoms a rest on alternate days until they are more accustomed to sizable intrusions.”

“Thank heavens! I mean… I mean… well… crap. I didn’t mean it
that
way. This is coming out all wrong.” He turns to Troy, his poor cheeks almost smoking they are so aflame. “It’s not that it isn’t nice or that you don’t do it right. ‘Cause it is nice—really nice—and that licking up the seam of my scrotum where my balls meet while jacking me off at the same time, like Justin suggested, really does help distract from what going on at my backdoor, but, well, it’s just that, well… it’s
big
, you know.”

Troy merely chuckles and winks at Samuel. “Boy do I know!”

And then we’re all laughing.

“Well, now that everyone is relaxed and, ah, progress in preparing your bottoms for sex is clearly being made, shall we move on to today’s session activity?”

The way they nod in unison charms me as much today as the first day they walked into my office. It really is beyond cute.

“Now, Samuel, I know you’re uncomfortable with some forms of pornography, but I feel it’s important for you to witness men equally endowed as yourself not only successfully, but also pleasurably for both parties, enjoying anal sex—”

“I don’t know, Justin. …”

“I understand your reservations, which is why I’ve been very particular in the video I’ve selected. It’s more an arthouse love story between two men than pornography of a more, ah, rawer nature, shall we say.”

I pause, looking between the two men as their nonverbal communication takes place, and I must say that my already high regard for Troy climbs even further. I’m certain he has been exposed to, and probably immensely enjoyed, the more explicit, sex-for-sex-sake pornography that Samuel has stated in previous sessions makes him feel uncomfortable, but rather than try to force his lover to watch something alien to his belief system he accepts Samuel’s choices.

“So there is a plot? Not just something like the pizza boy makes a delivery and suddenly he’s being gangbanged on the lounge room floor?”

It pleases me immensely that Samuel has voiced the question himself. We really are making progress.

“Yes, Samuel. Trust me, I chose this film very carefully. There is a plot. They meet. They get to know each other. They date. They fall in love and then, and only then, do they make love. Just so happens one of them has a trouser snake to rival yours.”

“Bet it ain’t as beautiful as yours though, Sam.”

I can’t help smiling—Troy is winking and pressing kisses to the back of Samuel’s hand while Samuel is blushing scarlet.

“So we’re good to go?”

Both Troy and I look to Samuel. He’s the quietest person in the room but at this point he’s the one with all the power.

“Yes.”

“Brilliant. Okay, well, follow me, gents.”

Without further ado I lead them to my film room, which is completely devoid of furniture. It contains only pillows (with fully washable covers, of course), a whole set of mood lighting options, and last but by no means least, a large video screen with surround sound.

“Cool,” breathes Troy as he surveys the room.

“Make yourself comfortable, guys. I have only one stipulation.”

At my words they both turn to face me.

“One of you must sit between the thighs of the other, resting with your back to their chest. Which of you assumes which position is entirely up to you, but I need you to repose in an intimate manner with lots of body contact. If you wish to divest yourselves of your pants and-or shirts that is also okay.”
Please do!
“The important thing is to be comfortable.”

“No problem, Doc.”

“Um, where will you be, Justin?”

I’m inordinately pleased that for the second time in one evening Samuel has spoken for himself.

“I will be in a small room through there,”—
Wishing I could be a fly on the wall
—I tell him gently, indicating a discretely placed door beside a two-way mirror. “I won’t be watching you—
More’s the pity
—but I will be able to hear you—
But please don’t let that hinder you
—so if have any questions, or if you want the movie paused, stopped, or rewound, you need only call out to me in your normal speaking voice.”

“Come on, babe. Sit down. You’ll be fine. Justin will stop the movie if it makes you too uncomfortable. Right, Justin?”

“Right,” I confirm.

I watch as Samuel turns to his boyfriend, smiling and shaking his head affectionately. “It didn’t take you long to strip off!”

I have to agree—Troy is already down to his boxer briefs, white and tight and. … I force myself to return my gaze to their faces.

Far from being embarrassed, Troy shimmies seductively up to Samuel, rubbing himself against Samuel’s jean-clad leg.

“Join me, lover. You know you want to.”
Yeah, you know you do.

Samuel’s shy laugh, dipped head, and rosy cheeks are in direct contrast to his hands which have moved to his belt buckle.

“Let me help,” Troy whispers, leaning in to kiss Samuel’s cheek while his fingers began the task of unbuttoning our Quaker boy’s shirt.

One shoulder unveiled—
Oh my
—and now a puckered nipple.
Okay, Justin, old chap, time to make your exit
.
Feet, did you hear me? Move! Now.