Date: Fri, 25 Oct 2013 00:14:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: IT STARTED IN A PARK 10

This story is completely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons or
events is purely coincidental.  The story also contains explicit sexual
acts between males, so be warned!

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Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.



			   IT STARTED IN A PARK

			      by Macout Mann



				Chapter 10

			      Therapy and Fun


On Monday Malcolm Pritchard, Christian's department head, was able to put
him in contact with the head of the Speech Correction and Audiology
Department.

Evan Moore provided a wealth of information about lisps or sigmatism, as
it's formally called.  He indicated that the impediment may be
psychological, but more often its cause is physical, the inability to
properly place the tongue.  The most common form, the interdental lisp, is
correctible through therapy, either through repeated exercises or through
the use of devices installed in the mouth that direct the tongue to the
proper position.

"We are fortunate to have a post doc who is doing very exciting research in
this area.  She is combining traditional therapy sessions with a device of
her own design.  It forces the tongue into proper alignment and can be
placed in the mouth by the patient between sessions.

"Your young man may be an ideal subject.  Let me make an appointment for
you with Dr. Shelburne."

The next afternoon, Gladys Shelburne met with Sammie and Christian and gave
Sammie a simple paragraph to read.  "The smart, sincere, sexton sounded
sixteen notes on the carillon three times, signaling that the service would
start soon."  She had him read it three times as fast as he could.

"Very good," she said.  "There are several different s sounds there, and
how you said each of them let me know that your lisp is interdental.  And I
think you would be an excellent subject for our study.

"The next question is, `Do you really want to get rid of your lisp?"

"Oh yeth," Sammie replied.  "Moth thirtain-ly."  Anything to gain the
approval of his Jim.

After fifteen minutes more of questions, it was decided that Sammie could
be accepted.  Ms. Shelburne explained to Christian that previous
correctional devices, like braces, were permanently installed.  Because her
device could be removed by the patient at will, only highly motivated
subjects were being allowed to participate.  But she felt that her method
would be proved superior, because twice weekly traditional therapy could be
conducted without the device, and as the patient progressed he would have
the flexibility to practice with or without the tool installed.  A properly
motivated subject should speak without a problem in six months at most.

Sammie would be measured for the device at once and then have his first
therapy session today.  His appliance would be ready Thursday afternoon.

Christian thanked Dr. Shelburne and took his leave, telling Sammie that he
and his colleagues would also like to meet with him Thursday at five.



Vernon was cooking lasagna that night and Christian immediately headed over
to his place.

"So what's been happening?" Vernon asked.

"Not much," Christian answered.  "I got Sammie started with the speech
correctionist.  He seems hot to get rid of his lisp."

"Good," Vernon replied.  "He could become a neat guy."

"Oh?  You want to plow him already.  I guess you could.  You don't have the
mentor relationship with him that I do.  Hell, you aint even technically on
the faculty."

"Right now I'm thinking of us doing the plowing," Vernon said.

"A bird in the hand..." Christian laughed.  "You have no morals at all, do
you?"

"Morals?  What are they?"  Vernon fondled his buddy's package.  "I just do
what's natural.  Nothing wrong with that."

"So you'll probably be fucking Sammie within a week, letting nature take
its course," Christian retorted.  "Tell him it's part of his workout."

"After dinner, we need to get with our workout.  First eat and then eat."

Vernon was an excellent cook, and his lasagna was to die for.  He made a
green salad with Italian dressing to go with it and served both dishes with
garlic bread.

"I ate so much I don't have enough energy for sex," Christian grinned.

"How the fuck do you think you pay for your supper?" Vernon responded. He
flopped on the couch next to Christian and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"I just love your hot bod," he whispered.

Vernon nibbled his way down Christian's chest and abs and used his teeth to
unloosen his partner's belt.  "Too bad I can't just unzip your fly with my
lips," he giggled.  He reached for Christian's zipper pull and freed his
dick from its trousered prison.  "Such a neat sausage," he continued.

"Too bad you already ate," Christian teased.

"Not dessert," Vernon countered.  And he took the waiting organ into his
mouth, burying his nose in his friend's musky pubes.

Christian responded by tousling Vernon's hair and running his fingers under
the back of his shirt, relishing the feel of Vernon's hard body.  "Ooh.  I
just love your hot bod too," Christian moaned.  "I can't wait to taste it."

The two men had become the closest of friends.  But their sexual encounters
were purely physical.  Vernon was a total cock hound.  Witness his fondness
for the spit-roast.  His life was dominated by a search for coherence in
String Theory on the one hand and a search for dicks to play with on the
other.

For Christian sex had always been without emotion.  From the time he first
met other guys anonymously in parks.  He had never even thought about "a
relationship." Even as a kid with Merritt, there was music, then there was
sex.  Two different pursuits.  His relationship with Jim had begun with a
fuck, but he now had become a drinking buddy too. But just that.  He got
together with Captain Rick first, but their relationship also became like
that of a nephew and an uncle.  With each sexual contact, however, his aim
was always to get as much pleasure as he could, but also he wanted his
partners to be just as fulfilled as he was.

So when it came to sex, his life at Sparta had become just about perfect.
Friends for fucking, and time for rest and work, as well as the occasional
trips to Cranston Park for new encounters.

When Christian dumped his precious fluid down the throat of his friend, he
was ecstatic.  Cumming was what a dick was made for.  Every nerve in his
body harmonized.  And he knew that to Vernon cum was nectar.

But now it was time for him to reciprocate.

To Christian Vernon had a perfect body.  Beautiful. Compact.  Hard.  Hell,
his abs were as hard as a dick. He wasn't muscle bound, but well defined
everywhere.  Christian undressed him looking forward to tasting every inch
of his five foot ten frame.

He began by blowing into his ears and tonguing them.  Then gently biting
his neck and shoulders.  Vernon lay back, totally relaxed, savoring every
touch.  He savored Christian's tongue lapping his pits.

Christian ran his palm over the gentle curves of Vernon's pecs and nibbled
on his now-erect nipples.  Vernon didn't shave his body, but his chest hair
was scant and was softly matted down to his gut.

Next Christian tongued his partner's navel and thoroughly licked his six
pack before slipping his tongue around the head of his rigid upturned dong.

"Fuck," whimpered Vernon, "I'm already about to cum."

"Be my guest," answered Christian as he swallowed Vernon whole.

Christian's lips very gently caressed him and Vernon held out as long as he
could, but it was only two minutes or so before he did spurt copious
ribbons of semen down Christian's throat.

Christian had never been as fond of drinking cum as a lot of his partners,
but he always had figured that turn-about was fair play.  Besides, his own
dick was hard again and he was ready for the main event.  "Ready to take me
up your tight ass?"

Vernon rolled onto his stomach and Christian once again began with his
ears, nibbling his neck, and licking the sweat off his spine, before
spreading his cheeks and filling his ass crack with silava.  Vernon turned
over once more.  Christian liked to look into the eyes of the guy he was
screwing, and Vernon wanted to slobber on Christian's dick so both their
spits would lube Vernon's ass.

That done, Vernon raised his legs, planted them on Christian's shoulders,
and watched in anticipation of Christian's stuffing his rod in his very own
anus.

"Ooooh," Vernon cried, "that feels so good.  Fuck me, man."

"Yeah," Christian replied.  "Nothing feels better to a dick than an ass,
does it?"  He rammed his prong home and at the same time kissed each of
Vernon's pecs."

He raised up to see a contented smile on Vernon's face.  "You really love
to have a dick up ya, don't ya buddy?"

"Ooooh yes.  Pound me, man," Vernon cried.

"In time, buddy.  But right now my shaft just wants to feel your throbbing
chute."  Vernon's dick was already rigid again, and Christian reached for
it.  He jacked it until his fingers were nicely moistened with Vernon's
precum and he then let his buddy lick them clean.  "Tasty, aint they?"
Christian said.

"You bet your ass," Vernon panted.

Christian began to play his organ, slowly raising his hips to retract his
treasure `til just its knob remained inside Vernon's sphincter, then
letting it slide down to once more fully fill his hole.  Up and down.  Back
and forth.

"Oh fuck yes!" Vernon cried.  "Fuck my ass."

As Christian became more excited, his movements became faster and harder.
He gave Vernon the pounding he had asked for, and as Vernon's prostate
reacted to its stimulation, he shot a load onto Christian's chest which
dribbled back onto his own.

Without missing a stroke, Christian lapped up some of the cum and shared it
by licking it onto Vernon's lips.  "Tasty pudding, aint it?" Christian
sang.

"Oh shit yes.  Give me more."

"You can have whatever's left on my dick after I cum, baby.  And that aint
goanna be long."

Christian's strokes became even more vigorous.  "Take it all!" he cried.
And he dropped strand after strand of his man sauce into his friends
flexing ass.

Both men were sated.