Date: Thu, 16 Mar 2017 02:07:01 +0000 (UTC)
From: Short Guy <short_guy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Reparative therapy

Reparative therapyby Short Guy

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This is a fantasy based on real experiences with a shrink and a
chiropractor in my teen years. The chiropractor helped me. The shrink did
not. When I imagine the reparative therapy I really needed, it was anything
but what the shrink had on offer. This is my effort to remake my past, to
banish guilt, and embrace who I am.

Reparative therapy part 1

My back was killing me and I was only fourteen years old. My parents took
me to all kinds of doctors and no one could find anything wrong. We went to
local doctors; we went to fancy doctors in the city who cost a week's wages
to talk to them for half an hour. My parents tried everything they could.
And then my mom heard about a local chiropractor who manipulates your body
to fix problems with your muscles and joints. She decided we should try him
to see if he could help.

His office was in our neighborhood half a mile from our house. Ordinarily I
could have walked it but today my back was giving me painful spasms so my
mom drove us over.

I remember sitting in the waiting room with pain shooting up my spine and
down my leg. I could barely walk. The other doctors thought it was all in
my head. They said I was an adolescent and I was tense or depressed or
anxious or whatnot. I needed to see a shrink.

Well the pain was real even if it was caused by my mind, I can tell you
that. And I was seeing a damn shrink and it had not helped at all. Fuck, it
had probably made it worse.

See, after years of being anxious about it, I had finally told my folks
that I was sexually attracted to guys. They had noticed me going
slack-jawed and drooling as I lusted after the hunky half naked hunk in a
Hercules movie we were watching on television. I had no choice but to 'fess
up. Being the 1960s, they thought the thing to do was to send me to a
psychiatrist who would cure me of my deviant tendencies.

It was the guilt, the shrink said. That's what was causing my lower back
pain. My brain was telling my muscles that there was something wrong with
me, something I should be ashamed of. My muscles were registering my guilty
feelings by tensing up and clenching so hard they gave me spasms of
pain. Knowing I was a fag and believing my parents and society and the
shrink when they told me there was something wrong with me was indeed
making me feel like crap.

I hated these feelings I had; I hated myself. I felt small, inferior to
other guys, inadequate, impotent. I longed to touch another guy's muscles,
to kiss my handsome classmates... And my desires to do so made me feel
ashamed. The shrink told me that I should not be ashamed; this happened to
some sensitive boys like me. The only thing that should make feel ashamed
was if I did not work hard to suppress those feelings. It might be hard
work, he said. He had some personal experience in this area. But according
to the shrink, once he cured me of lusting after men -- after I turned my
huge sexual yearnings toward girls, just like he had -- the pain in my back
would vanish like smoke.

But it wasn't working. Not at all. Nothing the shrink had said or done so
far had stopped me from getting a huge boner when I looked at my hunky
Spanish teacher, Señor López. Fuck, I was even attracted to
the damn shrink. He was blond and muscular and had a strong German jawline
and blue eyes and a packed crotch I had trouble keeping my eyes away
from. He wore white shirts that fit his pecs like a second skin and tight
jeans that hugged his round and muscular ass and accentuated his bulging
sexy package. If I didn't know better I would have thought he was trying to
seduce me for God's sake. Or maybe this was his way of trying to condition
me to look at a hunky guy and suppress my immediate sexual hunger and
attraction to him. If that's what he was trying to do, it wasn't fucking
working. My sessions with the shrink didn't lessen my attraction to
men. Shit, all it did was give me a fucking huge hardon as I looked at my
handsome doc and thought about my Spanish teacher.

Nor did it help that the shrink was trying to get me to see him as a father
figure rather than as a sexy man I wanted to kiss. Fuck, he didn't seem to
realize that it was father figures that turned me on, from my own dad to my
teachers to my friends' fathers. Those grown men with their hairy chests
and their solid, powerful, manly, imposing figures... They were what I
aspired to be. They were who I loved. I looked up to them. I worshipped
them. God I was attracted to those daddy types like a moth to a flame. I
wanted to touch their muscles, to feel their hard manly asses, to suck
their big cocks. And the shrink was not only handsome but in his forties
and six feet tall. He towered over my five foot no inch frame. He was a
real man and it gave me a freakin' woodie just to picture him in my mind's
eye.

Sure, we talked about my feelings about myself, my parents, my friends, and
the doc himself. He was aware of how much he turned me on. He knew I saw
him as a real man and that I saw myself as a scrawny kid who longed to
caress the doc's bulging biceps. He knew I did not know how incredibly sexy
I was. He knew I had no idea how my flat stomach, my bubble butt, my wide
dark brown eyes, and my pink lips made grown men want to shove me to my
knees.

He did know I could not walk into his office without looking at his
crotch. He did know how handsome I thought he was. He seemed to think that
all this made him uniquely qualified to help me; he was going to arrange it
so I got over him. When I could look at him and "just see a guy" and not
someone whose cock I wanted to suck, we would be in the clear.

But so far the only progress we had made was how vivid my daydreams were
about sucking the shrink's hard throbbing penis and how fast I could run to
the bathroom in the hall outside the doc's office to shoot a load of
teenage cum after spending an hour gazing at his round pecs and that
bulging crotch with its hidden treasure of German cock.

And it didn't fucking help that the shrink's name was Helmut Fuchs. It's
like his name was a deliberate joke. Helmut my ass. And Fuchs.  Shit fuck
piss. All his name made me think about was how thick his German cock must
be and how it must have a head like a huge Stormtrooper helmet. And damn it
if his name was not a fucking verb. I could never stop the image of that
huge mushroom helmet knob piercing my tight teenage hole. When I was on my
own time, in whatever bathroom I could run to, I would imagine licking that
mushroom helmut until it leaked precum and then bending over and being
fucked my shrink's German sword until I passed out.

And none of his sessions had lessened my back aches in any way.

And so, here I was, my mom trying one more time to get a doctor to figure
out if there was something physically wrong with me and doing something
about it.

I remember looking up at the wall in the waiting room and seeing a photo of
the chiropractor. I gasped when I saw it. My mom asked me if something was
wrong. I lied and said it was a back spasm. The truth was that the
chiropractor was a total hunk. He was so handsome it took my breath away. I
couldn't stop looking at the picture. He looked like a young Dean
Cain. Great eyes, inviting smile, vaguely Asian-white mix. I felt as if he
was looking right at me and it was fucking giving me a boner right there in
the waiting room.

Dammit, why was I so fucking attracted to grown men? And what the hell was
I going to do when he came out to meet me? It was gonna be hard enough to
stand up with my back hurting so much. How could I manage it if my cock was
trying to poke through my jeans?

But right then the door opened and Doctor Buck walked out. My heart started
racing. He was every bit as handsome as his picture and then some. He was
manly and boyish at the same time. He was intensely masculine but had
feminine eyebrows and lips. He had those sexy seductive beautiful Asian
eyes. He had dark brown hair that was straight and full coming down over
his forehead to one side.

And to top it off, he had on a pale blue short sleve polo shirt that hugged
his body and made his pecs and shoulders stand out and put his bulging
biceps on full display. He was in top notch shape. The fabric spread over
his chest and I could see his nipples pressed against it. His shoulders
were round and stuck out both on top and to the sides, and his biceps
popped up as he held my chart.

"Guy?" he asked.

"Ye-, yes," I stammered.

"Let's see what we can do with you."

For a minute I did nothing. He was looking right at me. I looked into his
eyes and started to get lost in them. I couldn't stop myself from glancing
at his muscular biceps.

And then he smiled.

He could have been just trying to make me feel comfortable. He could have
just been using his bedside manner. He could have just been noticing that I
was only fourteen years old.

But it was more than that and I fucking knew it. Whether or not gaydar
exists, I knew in my bones that he knew I was attracted to him. Fuck, he
knew that I was in complete awe of him. He knew I was stunned by how
handsome he was. He knew that his face and his body had turned me on like a
match. He knew what kind of boy I was. He knew that when I got home I was
going to rush to the bathroom, slip down my pants and briefs, slather some
baby oil on my palm and stroke my teenage cock until I fired the biggest
load of my young life.

He fucking knew I was a fag.

But... but... there was nothing in his look that reminded me of my
judgmental shrink. He didn't look disapproving or disgusted. He didn't look
mean. He had a small, almost secret smile. He was looking into my eyes, not
wavering or blinking. He was seeing what was there, what I was, what I saw
when I looked at him. He knew, he fucking knew me, he knew what I was
thinking. He knew how handsome he was and he knew what it did to me. He
knew that I was thinking about kissing him. He knew I was trying not to
imagine sinking to my knees and sucking his daddy cock. He knew
everything. And he was not going to rat me out to my mom. He was not going
to say he couldn't help me because it was all in my head. His smile
was... oh God it was like I was being rescued at sea.

His smile told me something the shrink had never told me. His smile told me
I wasn't a fag. I was a boy who wanted to be with a man. And this handsome
stud of a doctor didn't mind. He didn't think I was the scum of the
earth. He didn't think I needed to change. He didn't fucking mind that I
was attracted to him. Fuck me to hell, he liked the fact that I was
attracted to him. It made him feel good that I thought he was so
attractive. He wanted... God what did he want? Did he want me to ... shit
did he want me to want him? Was he smiling that small smile because he knew
that if he asked, I would sink to my knees and suck his doctor dick?

All I can tell you is that he was the exact opposite of the shrink. His
gaze was tender, almost loving. He was the doc but he was also -- I almost
couldn't believe it -- he was on my side, whatever that meant. He knew I
wanted him and that was OK with him. He was a hunk and half and he knew
it. Who wouldn't want him for God's sake?

And more than that, I knew that he was going to help me. I wasn't sure how
I knew. But I was as sure about this as I was that my cock was throbbing in
my jeans.

I can't tell you how I knew all this just by just looking into his eyes. I
can't explain it. I just knew. I knew he knew what I was and I knew he knew
that I knew. Damn... you know what I mean. His smile told me he was going
to help me, that he understood what I needed. And I knew he would believe
me when I told him the pain was real. I knew -- somehow I knew -- that he
was the only one who knew what to do about it.

"You need help standing up, little buddy?" he asked, walking toward me,
handing the clipboard to the nurse.

"Yeah, I think so," I said.

He put his hands under my armpits and slowly lifted me up. My back seized
up with a spasm and I cried out.

"OK," he said, "OK," stopping with me halfway standing. He removed one hand
and placed it on my lower back to help put pressure on it and help me to
stand the rest of the way. Slowly and gently he eased me up and I was
standing. He moved his hands so he was beside me, one hand around my back
and under my right armpit. He put my left hand around his waist. He was so
fucking muscular. I could feel his oblique muscles on the side of his waist
moving under my hand. I could feel his muscular ass move just inches away
from where I was touching him. We started to walk to the door to the back
office where he was going to work on me.

"Don't worry, son," he said. "I know just what you need. I know exactly how
to help you."

He looked at my Mom, who looked worried.

"He's in good hands, ma'am," he said. And as he said that, his hand
squeezed my right pec. God almighty. He was holding me up by my right
armpit and his fingers were long enough to touch my right nipple. His
finger pressed on it and moved around. Holy mother of God, he was massaging
my nipple as we walked. I felt like I was about to pass out. I looked down
and saw that my hard cock was pressing my pants forward. My boner was
obvious. I looked up at him. He couldn't have missed it.

"Good," he said, "that's it buddy. Only a little farther to go till I work
my magic."

God Almighty he squeezed my pec again.

He looked back at my mom.

"I think it will be better if you don't come in. It will be about an hour
for the first visit," he said. "To assess him and start to heal
him. There's a coffee shop next door if you like."

"Thank you, Dr. Buck," my mom said, her face anxious. "That sounds nice."

"Don't worry about a thing," Dr. Buck said. He looked back at me, never
breaking eye contact as we walked. My back hurt like hell but his hands
were strong and warm, his eyes were deep and I felt lost in them, my chest
felt warm and full, and my cock was so hard it could have been used as a
hammer.

As he opened the door, Dr. Buck squeezed my pec again.

"I know exactly what you need son," he said, his finger rotating around my
stiff nipple, precum wetting my pants. The pain in my back was at war with
the throbbing of my teenage dick. I didn't know whether to moan with lust
or cry my eyes out in pain. "And I'm going to give it to you," he added as
the door shut behind us.



Reparative therapy part 2

Dr Buck helped me climb onto the table. Really he picked me up and lifted
me onto it, laying me gently down on my side.

A flash of pain hit me and I cried out, clutching the area where it
hurt. Before I knew it, Dr Buck had placed his hand over mine and began to
massage my lower back, his other hand pressed on my stomach to give him
leverage. Slowly the pain subsided.

I don't remember much about how that first session began except that he
massaged me and moved my legs and arms so that my muscles would both relax
and stretch. I began to feel better. The spasms stopped and the pain
diminished to an ache. I was able to start paying more attention to what he
was doing. And I couldn't help noticing the way his package looked in front
of my face or how he pressed his crotch against my face as he pulled my
legs up into a fetal position.

I remember feeling faint. This handsome stud was pressing his crotch
against my nose, against my mouth. I couldn't help it. I had to breathe, I
really did. My nose was stopped up by his bulging cock so I opened my mouth
and, fuck it, my lips surrounded his thick cock. He was encased in his
pants of course but his cock was there between my lips moving up and
down. It was an accident, I thought. He can't mean to have me feeling his
penis in my mouth; it can't be that he's giving me a feel of what I want
most in the world. He can't... but oh fuck there it was, covered by his
pants but throbbing, moving, pulsing between my boy lips, his hands on my
lower back, moving down to the area just at the top of my butt, massaging
my ass, holding my thighs, moving his cock and and down between my
lips. Holy mother of God, I was in heaven.

And then he spoke, very softly.

"Do you trust me, son?" he said, his strong hands massaging the very top of
my ass cheeks, his cock massaging my lips.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Does this feel good?" his hands squeezed my ass cheeks, his finger ran
into my crack, pressed against my asshole. "Is this helping?"

"Oh God yes," I said, not able to help myself, as my cock twitched and
throbbed.

"Good," he said. "This will work better if we take our clothes off. I want
to use some oil and we don't want to stain your clothes, or mine
either. It's just you and me in here. Just us men. Your mom doesn't need to
know exactly what goes on in here. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," I said. If he didn't want me telling my mom what he did with
me, maybe he wanted... maybe... There was that cock of his pressed against
my mouth. What was he going to do? I couldn't decide if I was apprehensive
or eager. Maybe it was both.

"If anything hurts or doesn't feel right, you'll let me know, right?"

"Yes," I groaned, his cock twitching between my lips.

"Good boy," he said, petting my head. "I knew you'd be a good boy."

And with that he slowly helped me strip off my clothing until I was stark
naked on the table. My cock was rock hard. I was on my left side, my knees
up in a fetal position. Dr. Buck was standing in front of me. I could see
his cock outlined in his pants. It was hard and it was erect slightly
tilted up to the left. Since my left cheek was on the exam table, his erect
cock was what had been going up and down between my lips before when he was
rubbing my lower back and my butt cheeks.

As I watched, Dr. Buck slipped off his polo shirt. Fuck me to hell, he had
beautiful pecs. They were round and muscular and thick and he had huge
nipples. The pecs stood out above his washboard abs.

"Don't want to stain my clothes either," he said as he slipped off his
shoes and socks. "You understand, don't you?" he added as he undid his belt
and unzipped his pants. Fuck me, I was watching his every move like my life
depended on it. I didn't care if he noticed. My eyes followed that zipper
down down down and then slow as the beginning of a Strauss waltz he slipped
his pants down. Then his tight white briefs. As his beautiful cock came
into view, I started to breathe faster. Watching those briefs slip down and
his cock emerge, slowly, seeing it get longer, and longer, and longer, and
God there was the cut head of his daddy cock. And as those pants fell to
the floor, his cock sprang tall and proud, hard and erect. I gasped. It was
the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Dr. Buck was fully naked now. His cock was swinging back and forth as he
walked toward me. As I gaped at his cock, now inches from my mouth, I felt
him reach for the oil and dribble it over my side and my back. Some was now
being poured on my ass. His cock was right there. It was ...

Fuck me to hell, I opened my mouth and his cock slipped in. It was
incredible. It was warm. It was soft and stiff at the same time. It was
throbbing. I could sense his pulse on my tongue. Oh God it was
incredible. I felt it going in and out of my mouth as he massaged my ass
and my lower back. As he moved his hands on my back, he moved his cock in
and out of my mouth.

I felt one hand on the back of my head holding me in place. He was fucking
my mouth now while his other hand continued to massage my back.

"That's it, son," he said softly. Relax your muscles. Relax your
back. Relax your jaw. Let the tension out. Let it out." And as he continued
to fuck my teenage mouth, he whispered, "let me in."

His cock spurt some liquid. I would not know until later that it was
precum. It hit the back of my throat and I gagged. The gagging passed and I
felt the liquid on my tongue. It was salty. I swallowed. It went down my
throat. This hunky doc had shared his manjuice with me. He was letting feel
share his cock, to feel his manhood, to take it in. It was his manhood and
damn straight I swallowed it down.

And then he eased his cock out of my mouth. He put some more oil on me and
rubbed it around on my back and my ass. I saw him walk away. He was behind
me where I could not see him. I felt his hands on me.

"Let's try to get onto your stomach, OK, Guy?" he said. He placed his hands
on me. One hand was pushed under me and cupped my right pec and the other
hand... God Almighty, the other hand was cupping my cock and balls and his
thumb... oh Lord, his thumb was pressed against my asshole. The oil that
had been poured over my ass was slipping between my ass cheeks. His thumb
it, oh God, it was slippery. It pressed in... It was... Oh fuck, his thumb
entered my asshole. It was, oh God it was all the way in. And his fingers
were pressed against my cock. He was fucking using my asshole to hold me so
he could turn me on my stomach, like it was a convenient handle or
something.

I found myself being pushed, coaxed, prodded down the table and turned so
my stomach was against the table and my legs were now touching the floor,
my ass open and available for Dr Buck's insistent thumb. I was in the
position now but his thumb stayed inside me. I felt it pressing
against... against what? against... oh fuck that felt good! It was my
goddam prostate, his thumb was caressing it. His left hand was massaging my
lower back. My cock was free of the table and rigid with lust and twiching
with pleasure.

I moaned.

"You OK, son?" asked Dr. Buck, as he massaged my back and moved his thumb
around inside my asshole. "How's the pain?"

"It still hurts but it's better," I said, whimpering. "You feel..."

"What?" he whispered, his mouth suddenly near my face. "What does it feel
like?" he asked as he fucked my ass with his thumb and massaged my lower
back with his other hand.

"It feels right," I said, not knowing how to answer his question.

The pain was getting less as his massaging loosened my muscles.

And then suddenly his thumb was gone. He moved behind me. I felt his hands
again on my lower back, massaging it. And his hands were now on my ass
cheeks, massaging them. HIs two thumbs pressed against my asshole. His
massages were loosening my ass muscles, relaxing my legs, opening my
hole. I felt his legs push my own legs
apart. Further. Further. Further. The effect pushed my ass up into the air
as his hands pressed against my lower back. And then...

Holy God, I felt his cock slipping between my ass cheeks sliding up and
down between them just over my boyhole. HIs strong hands were massaging my
shoulders as his cock slid back and forth between my bubble butt
cheeks. HIs hands were massaging my middle back, now my lower back,
now... now kneading my ass. His cock, his mushroom head was pressing
against my hole, his hands massaging my lower back.

"Breathe in deeply," he said quietly.

He was the doctor. I followed his advice. I breathed in deeply and as I
did, his cock pressed against my asshole.

"Now let it out," he said.

 I let out my breath. HIs cock pressed forward, more, more, a little more,
his hands on my back caressing, massaging.

"Breathe," he said and when I did, his daddy cock entered my tender
hole. This handsome man, this muscular, manly grownup was giving me his
most precious gift, the part of him I desired most. He was giving me his
power, his strength, his manhood. And like a miracle, my muscles relaxed,
my back muscles lost their tension, my body yielded to the one type of
person who could release me from my teenage anxieties -- a grown man. And
his cock, the hard, hot, beautiful cock of my handsome doc thrust into me
as far as it could go.

He continued to massage my back up and down, focusing on my lower back
muscles and my muscular boy butt as he rocked forward and back, his cock
sliding in and out of me. He was massaging me. He was fucking me. He was
massaging me. He was fucking me. My pain was evaporating. It was both the
most peaceful and most exciting feeling of my young life. His hands were
magic. And his daddy dick... shit it was literally fucking the pain right
out of me.

I don't remember how long he fucked me. It felt like a beautiful dream. My
tension was gone. My pain was gone. My guilt was gone. He was a man. A real
man. A man who knew what I needed. A man who was ready, wiling, and able to
give it to me. I was a boy with a deep desire. I was a boy who was sexually
mature when he was ten years old. I was a boy who had longed to have sex
with a real man for four long years. I was a starving boy. I was starving
for a man. He was the first one to recognize it. He was the only one to
understanding my yearning. And he was the only one who had ever given me
what I needed and longed for.

And then, slowly, his cock withdrew. My asshole felt empty, open, lonely.

Slowly, tenderly, he moved me up the table. Fuck it all, he was so
strong. He turned me over so I was on my back, my butt hanging off the
table. He pulled my legs up, pressed them back, put them over his
shoulders. He moved forward, his cock now touching mine, his face
approaching. He moved me slowly. He let me get used to it. He stretched my
back. Soon I was doubled over, my legs pressed against my chest, my calves
on his shoulders on both sides of his face, my lower back stretched,
stretched, stretched. Oh God it felt great. He pressed
forward. More. More. More. HIs lips were now inches from my own. His
beautiful eyes staring deep into mine.

"This is the best way to stretch the other way," he said, as his cock moved
forward and back against my rigid teenage boner. "Does it still hurt?" he
asked as his lips grazed my own. "Does it?" he repeated.

"Just a little," I said. "Stretching like this feels good."

"I'm going to rock back and forth some," Dr. Buck said. "Let me know if it
hurts. Tell me if you want me to stop."

I felt his cock move off my own and slip down under my balls. It was
pressed against my asshole now. Dr Buck started to move forward and back,
every time closer, stretching my legs more, and more, and more, each time
bringing his handsome face closer to mine. He was folding me, folding me in
two. My back muscles were relaxing. They were giving way.

And then just as his lips were hovering over mine, he rocked forward one
more time.

At the exact same moment, his lips pressed against my lips, his cock
entered my boyhole. And in the next moment, his tongue entered my mouth and
his cock pressed inside. He penetrated me two ways. He pushed inside me
slowly, deliberately, lovingly until I was fully impaled on his Asian
doctor penis and sucking his strong wet tongue.

And then it was a complete blur. As if this was what he had been aiming at
all along, as if he had been getting me ready, as if that all had been the
overture and the opera was finally beginning, as if we had been saying
hello and it was time to fall in love, he fucked me. He fucked me deep,
with long strong strokes of both his cock and his tongue. They went in and
out together -- the cock and the tongue. My ass clenched around his cock as
if it would save my life. My mouth sucked his tongue as if it was my source
of air. My back muscles released to give me space to spread my legs, to
open my ass, to keep them firmly on my doctor's shoulders. I stretched. I
made my self open to my doctor. My muscles did what they were born to
do. They finally had what they wanted. I was finally in the position my
muscles wanted me to be in.

And my ass was finally full of what I wanted most. A hard daddy cock. A
needy daddy.

He fucked me, and fucked me, and fucked me, and fucked me.

All the while, he held me in the position, my ass open wide, my legs on his
shoulders, his tongue in my mouth, his cock in my ass. I was a boy bent in
two. I was a boy getting what he needed from a man. I was a boy getting his
back muscles stretched by a top guy who knew what a bottom needed. On my
back with my legs over his shoulders. I had found my natural position. My
back was finally where it was supposed to be.

I would have thought it would hurt to get fucked by a grown man. To have
that daddy cock inserted in my tight teenage virgin hole. But he had
prepared me. He had relaxed me. He had "thumbed" me. He had... He fucking
knew what he was doing.

It didn't hurt. It just felt good.

Wow. Fucking wow. I suddenly realized -- it didn't hurt. My back didn't
hurt. My spasms were gone. I was relaxed. I was impaled on his cock. I was
open. My body was where it needed to be. My legs were where they needed to
be. I was who I needed to be. The doc was who I needed him to be.

I moaned as my handsome doc thrust his cock into me. i moaned as I sucked
frantically on his sensual tongue as it fucked my mouth. He realized I was
about to shoot. He fucked me harder. He moved his face so he could look
into my eyes as I came, as I released my tension fully and completely. HIs
lips were just touching mine.

"Yes son. Let it go. Let the pain go. Let it go." And as he moved in and
out of me, I felt my cock spurt a hot load of cum as I pressed it forward
and back against his hard abs. I
shot. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. It felt like
it would never end.

And when my body stopped quivering in ecstacy, I felt him slowly withdraw
his dick from my butt and gently place my feet on the table, my knees in
the air. I felt him place his knees on both sides of my torso and I watched
as he stroked his daddy cock right over my chest. I looked up and saw his
muscular pecs, his bulging biceps, his handsome face, and then down at that
powerful man tool as he thrust his cock through his sexy hand. He stroked
and stroked and...a blast of cum landed on my forehead. The second landed
on my nose, dribbling down the sides. The third on my lips, and into my
mouth. The fourth on my cheek. The fifth straight onto my tongue.

Dr. Buck's hands were caressing my face, bathing it in his manjuice. His
thumb moved some into my mouth. I looked up at him. He was so beautiful as
I sucked his thumb and drank his sperm.

"How is the pain?" he asked softly, as his other hand caressed my cheek,
spreading his cum over it.

"Mmmm," I said sucking on his thumb. He slowly removed it.

"I feel good, doctor. The best I've felt in months."

And with that, the doc climbed off the table and moved his face close to
mine.

"I'm glad," he said, his lips just above mine. And then he kissed me.

I don't remember him cleaning me up and putting our clothes back on. I do
remember walking out on my own two feet, my savior beside me.

My mom was not back yet from the coffee shop. When she entered the front
door ten minutes later, she looked worried but when she saw me, when she
saw me smiling, when she saw me sitting without pain, my mom's face lit up
with relief, with love, and with joy. I was fine. The doctor had helped
me. No one else had been able to do it. Dr Buck had been the only one who
could. He was the only one who did.

The backaches did not go away entirely. They came back and when they did Dr
Buck was there to make them go away. I began seeing Dr Buck twice a week. I
felt well enough to walk to his office by myself. My mom was grateful. My
dad was grateful.

And I? I was in fucking heaven. My backaches were not gone but they were
less severe. And Dr. Buck knew what to do about them. And my anxiety and
depression? Well, every time I saw Dr. Fuchs, they got worse, and everytime
I saw Dr Buck they vanished like smoke.

Reparative therapy part 3

Dr Buck taught me how to exercise, how to stretch, how to walk and bend,
how to get into a car without twisting my back and injuring my lower back
muscles. He taught me how to relax my ass muscles, how to push when
something hard and throbbing was trying to get inside, how to look into his
deep blue eyes as that hard object penetrated my boy butt, how to suck on
his tongue as his cock fucked my eager fourteen year old ass, how to take a
man, how to take it like a man, how to service a man, how to be a man. He
taught me how to take a man's cock up the ass, how to receive a man's cum
as it shot into my bowels, how to feel a man's muscular pecs on my tight
young chest.

And over time, he taught me how to swallow a man's cum, how to drink it
down, how to swallow that thick daddy liquid, how to let it slide down to
my stomach, how to make his essence mine, and how to thank him for letting
me suck his dick.

And when I was good at it all, when I was really really good at it, I
surprised my shrink one day by telling him I was fed up with his taunting
me with his tight jeans and his thick mysterious crotch. He was so shocked
he did not know what to say. He was so shocked he did not stop me when I
got down on my knees in front of his bulging German package and yanked down
his zipper and freed his large cock from its rigid fabric cage. He was so
shocked he did not stop me from sucking his doctor cock until it exploded
in my mouth.

He resisted, just a bit, Dr Fuchs did. After all, this was not the usual
therapeutic posture. But I told him the only thing that would turn me off
to the idea of sucking cock was to see how disgusting it was to do
it. After all, he kept teliing me it was disgusting.

"Let me try and I won't want to do it again," I said. Somehow that made
sense to Dr Fuchs. Nothing else had worked, after all. And since I had
never told Dr Fuchs about Dr Buck, Dr Fuchs thought I was a virgin. He
thought that I had never sucked cock or bent over for a guy. As far as he
knew his cock would be the first one I had ever sucked. It was worth a try
to see if sucking his dick would disgust me so badly that it would break me
of the habit.

It violated every ethical rule in the book to let a teenage client suck his
shrink's cock, especially when the whole point of the therapy was to cure
me of wanting to do exactly that.

The spirit may be strong but the flesh is week and when my soft boy lips
enclosed his thick German penis and my wet tongue massaged his piss shoot,
it was more than he could bear to remove it from my mouth. I sucked like a
champ and he would have had to be an angel from heaven to stop me from
giving him the best blow job of his life.

The shrink was a man, after all, with a man's needs. But more than that,
although he was a man who was in fact disgusted with the idea of sucking
cock, he was not a man who was disgusted at getting a blow job. He had
never wanted to suck cock himself. But had wanted to push a boy like me to
my knees and fuck his face. He had even done that a time or two in his
youth until he had found a girl who was eager to bed a handsome hunk like
him and give him as much head as he needed.

But secretly he remembered what it was like to fuck a boy's mouth. And
secretly, he jerked off thinking about it. Later, he told me, he had jerked
off thinking about my pink lips on his thick cock.

He had learned to suppress those thoughts, those feelings. But he had not
learned to banish them entirely. And when I knelt before him, my cute face
looking up at my daddy doc, my tongue licking the velvet head of his hard
thick penis, it was a done deal. He shoved his cock down my throat.

And i took it. I took it like a man. Dr Buck had taught me well. I had
become a champion cocksucker.

And this would be good for me, Dr Fuchs told himself. He could rationalize
it. He was sure, absolutely sure, that I would be disgusted by having
another man's cock in my mouth; after all, it would disgust him. He was
sure, absolutely sure, that I would gag when his cock his the back of my
throat. He was sure, absolutely sure, that I would never think sexually
about another guy in my whole life if he shot his thick cum into my hot,
wet, teenage boy mouth.

He was so sure that this would disgust in me in the end that it became my
regular therapy. Of course, the fact that he got to get a blowjob from a
cute teenager was surely a bonus. But it was therapy; it was going to cure
me. It had to.

>From then on in, in our therapy sessions, we would talk for a while about
my feelings about my parents, my feelings about myself, the meaning of
being a man. And then I would look at him and say the magic words.

"I need another treatment," I would say. "I knew you to repair me."

He would hesitate. He would always hesitate. "I'm trying to cure your
homosexuality, not indulge it."

"Didn't you say that I would get over wanting men if I knew what it was
like? What it was really like? Didn't you say that it was so disgusting to
suck a man's cock that if I did it, I would know that it was not for me?
How am I going to see it's not what I want if I don't see how gross it is?
And who else is going to show me if it isn't you?"

"But we have tried this and it has not helped," he whimpered.

I knew when he whimpered that his defenses were breaking down. I watched as
his cock hardened in his pants. I watched as he stared at me licking my
soft teenage lips. I watched as he remembered what it was like to fuck my
hot wet boy mouth.

He knew the cocksucking treatment would not work. He knew it was
unorthodox. He knew it was unethical. He knew it was not a viable
treatment. He knew, he knew, he knew.

But he also knew that he had gotten into the business of curing homosexual
boys because he had been one. He knew he had suppressed his own urges his
whole life and he knew what it took to do that. He knew that letting me
suck his hard cock was not going to turn me straight. He knew.

But he also knew how frustrating it had been for him never to indulge the
homosexual desires he had suppressed but never banished. He knew how good
it felt to let his young patient unzip his trousers and yank down his pants
and swallow his throbbing manhood.

He knew he should not do it.

But I made him do it. I was the first boy who was forward enough, confident
enough, to get on my knees and pull down his pants. I was the only one who
had put him to the test. And when a cute teenage boy with soft lips and a
pink tongue begs you to fuck his mouth, when he kneels before you and looks
up at you with lust and longing, when he is so horny he takes down your
pants before you can stop him, when your own cock quivers with lust since
it has not found a male mouth to fuck for twenty years, when this is what
you have secretly longed for your entire life, well... better judgment gets
pushed aside. He had controlled his lust for twenty years. And now his cock
had had enough. I offered him a place to shove his dick. And his dick was
not going to let him get in the way, no matter how many degrees he had, no
matter how much he had been taught it was wrong.

Dr. Fuchs couldn't say no to me. Not after what I learned from Dr Buck. Not
after I had become a champion cocksucker. Not after I had learned how to be
homosexual for real. Dr Fuchs would try to dissuade me, knowing his job was
to turn me straight. He would try to stay on the straight and narrow
himself. But he had never cured himself of wanting to fuck a boy's mouth.
He had never really relinquished the longings of his loins. And fuck it all
to hell, but my fourteen year old mouth was so hot, so wet, so tight around
his throbbing penis that, try as he might, he could not bring himself to
stop me from attacking his hard, wet, cock and sucking him unti he was dry
as a bone.

My shrink sessions started to help me. I no longer felt depressed. I no
longer felt sad. I no longer felt anxious. I looked forward to my
sessions. I looked forward to that blond, thick German cock. I was a
cocksucker. I was a homosexual boy who was into grown men.

Together Dr. Buck and Dr. Fuchs gave me therapy. Together, they repaired
me. My pain was gone. And so was my anxiety and my shame. They fixed me.
Just not in the way my parents had anticipated.



Short Guy Stories

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/civil-service

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/driving-instructor

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/play-like-a-man

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/taking-my-fathers-place

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/the-bottom-apartment

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/office-hours

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/town-gown-relations

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/will-you-be-my-buddy

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/daddy-issues

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/a-place-of-my-own

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/military/civil-service