Date: Sat, 21 Jan 2017 02:56:52 +0000
From: J Wize <jaywizetoo@gmail.com>
Subject: "Therapy"

DISCLAIMER:

This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit
sexual acts between two men.

If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not
read it.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal
reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at
your own site, please contact the author for permission.

If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the
topic distasteful the please leave now.

Copyright 2017 jaywizetoo, All rights reserved.

Please contact me at jaywizetoo@gmail.com if you like. I welcome all
feedback.

* * *


Brown leather creaked as Doctor Kanaan leaned forward in his chair, folding
his large hands before him upon the desk. I had been seeing him for the
past six months; ever since I had spent some time in jail after being
caught acting out my particular sexual addiction. The courts had ordered me
to seek therapy. I hadn't wanted to deal with whatever so-called expert the
court might have appointed, so I hired someone recommended to me by a good
friend.

He had only arrived in the US a few years ago. He must have been connected
to someone important, for he was a citizen both of the United States and of
the kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

His dark eyes pierced mine and he smiled. "You have made some progress,
I'll grant you," he said, "but you haven't given up on your urges
entirely. Each patient is different, of course, but normally by this point,
I would have declared victory with a man like you."

I nodded. What else could I do? No matter how hard I tried, I still found
myself craving that illicit pleasure, and at the most inopportune times, in
the least appropriate places imaginable.

"Our time is almost up for today," he continued, "but I would like you to
stay for a while."

"But," I began, blinking, "Doctor, I'm not sure I can afford more time
before next month's session. You aren't exactly cheap."

Kanaan laughed. "That is true." He shrugged. "This would not be on the
clock. Then his face grew more serious. "Stay."

"All right," I answered. "What shall we talk about?"

"We are not going to talk," he replied. "I have another patient coming in
in a few minutes."

He pointed to the closet on the other side of the office.

"You want me to go in there." I stared, uncomprehending.

Kanaan's smile grew ever so slightly darker. "No. Only your clothing
will. All of it. You will remain here in the office."

My heart skipped a beat. "Uhh, Doctor... Listen, I..."

"Now, please," he interrupted. "There isn't much time. My next patient must
not know you are here."

"But... how can I... if I can't..." I pointed toward the closet, growing
more confused.

"Strip." It wasn't a request.

I stood up, walked over to the closet and began to disrobe, feeling as
nervous as I did foolish.

First, the shoes came off. Then my socks. I pulled my shirt and sweater
over my head, then undid my belt and slid my pants and underwear down to my
ankles, stepping out of them onto the soft piled carpet.

As strange as it felt standing there naked in front of my therapist, it
never once occurred to me to do anything other than exactly what he told me
to do. Perhaps progress had been achieved in different ways over the past
half-hear. I was surprised at how easy it was for me to obey him.

But then, that was Dr. Kanaan's way, with his quiet, deep voice and his
intense gaze. He seemed to command in a gentle way. You didn't feel like
you /had/ to obey; you simply wanted to.

He did, after all, know me pretty well by this time. He had done more
rooting around in my subconscious than anyone else I had known in my 35
years on this planet.

Something about this blatant, lewd exposure and the cool, conditioned air
upon my bare skin made the blood rush to my groin, and I felt myself start
to harden. All I could do was blush and try half-heartedly to cover my
midsection with my clothes.

"Put those in the closet, then come back here," Kanaan instructed, nodding
at the ball of clothing I was holding.

I obeyed. Tossing the clothes through the door and onto the closet floor, I
closed the heavy wooden door and turned, walking back toward Kanaan's desk.

The psychiatrist pushed his wheeled seat back from the wide slab of walnut
wood and motioned for me to join him behind it.

"Kneel here," he said, pointing to the floor next to him.

I hesitated, but only for a brief moment. Then I lowered myself to one knee
just to the right of his chair.

Kanaan reached up and laid a warm hand upon my head. He pushed gently but
firmly downward, guiding me toward the large empty space under his
desk. The side of this space facing the chair in which I had been sitting
was solid wood from the desk's surface to the thick carpeting.

My heart beginning to pound, I settled in under the huge piece of
furniture. For a full grown mad, if not a large one, the space was
adequate; surprisingly roomy for what should have been only legroom.

Dr. Kanaan rolled forward, then, reaching across the desk. His legs spread,
extending to either side of me and affording me a view of what appeared to
be an impressive bulge beneath his tailored slacks.

He was already unzipped. Funny that I had not noticed until just then.

Kanaan spoke, after something he touched made a soft beeping noise. "Send
Mr. Thomas in, Susan." And then, he reached down and into his fly, hauling
out a thick, swarthy cock with a very large mushroom head at its end.

I heard the faint sound of the office door opening and Kanaan leaned
further forward, resting his arms in front of him and thrusting his bare
manhood closer to my face.

I had broken out into a light sweat and my cock hardened to a bar of steel
as I heard the patient flop down in his seat and converse with Kanaan; just
small talk, it seemed.

I couldn't make out everything being said through the heavy wood, but
Kanaan's deep baritone was unmistakable as I stared, open-mouthed, at his
thick organ. It had grown significantly in length and thickness and it
ticked upwards with each beat of the psychiatrist's heart.

After a couple of awkward (for me) moments, the conversation above me
seemed to settle into a more traditional cadence; a patient consulting with
his doctor. I remember thinking briefly about what a serious ethical breach
this represented for Dr. Kanaan. And I couldn't have cared less in that
moment. Wherever this was going, he had me willingly.

The track lighting above the desk glinted off the polished crystal of
Kanaan's watch as he reached down and cupped his big balls, lifting the
leaden weight of his shaft and aiming it squarely at my face. The
invitation was very clear.

Strange... our relationship had always been strictly professional. He was
an attractive man, middle-aged but with a trim muscular body obvious
through his tailored shirts. Naturally, I had noticed, but I had never
attempted, or even thought of attempting to cross the boundary between
us. Such things simple weren't done between doctors and patients.

No, Kanaan was crossing it, and he clearly had no expectation that I would
refuse him. He was, unsurprisingly, quite correct.

I leaned forward, suddenly feeling playful, even powerful in a small way. I
ran my tongue once across the broad underside of his helmet head, tasting
there a clear, sweet droplet of precum that had just formed.

The hand holding his cock and balls shook ever so slightly and the organ
thickened even more, but the tenor of and speed of his words changed not at
all. My lips closed around the head, enveloping it in the silken warmth of
my mouth.

Dr. Kanaan's legs tensed up, and he released his penis, the hand
disappearing back up above the desk's surface and his balls swinging low
between his hairy thighs. I enjoyed the sensation of the heavy rod in my
mouth, upon my tongue, letting the heat soak into the soft, smooth skin,
and the iron underneath it.

I moved forward, allowing more of the big cock into my mouth. When I felt
the head pushing at the entrance to my throat, I began a slow, easy back
and forth motion, bobbing on my psychiatrist's pole.

He hardened completely, then, still talking to his oblivious patient; still
dispensing sage advance to another troubled soul, as if he weren't at that
very moment being blown by a naked man under the polished wood and green
banker's lamp illuminating the space between the two men.

I heard them discuss a divorce, sexual infidelities by a spouse, childhood
issues and memories, thoughts of violence, dreams of being lost, of
drowning, of falling from a high place, unable to slow the fall as some
folks who had more of a knack for controlling their nightmares. The man
spoke of being awoken each night by loud noises that seemed so real but, in
fact, were not.

Dr. Kanaan listened, sympathized, methodically drawing forth the issues at
play in his patient's mind, examining them one by one and holding them up
for both men to scrutinize as, underneath it all, I sucked Kanaan's huge,
throbbing cock.

The psychiatrist cleared his throat and leaned forward again, perhaps to
reach for something upon his desk. As he did, his right hand returned to
the space I occupied and, twining his fingers in the hair upon the back of
my head, Kanaan pulled me forward. The bloated head of his cock entered my
throat and I swallowed. The instant I did, the organ slide in and down,
filling my neck with swollen flesh and pushing out my cheeks. My lips came
to rest against his big balls, and he held me there, impaled upon his
twitching meat, a human fleshlight with my lips kissing the wide base of
his penis.

It seemed so strange, sitting there beneath the shining surface of the
desk, my own cock dripping clear fluid onto the carpet, to listen to the
mundane conversation taking place above me, a fat cock down my throat and
two heavy balls wedge against my chin, my therapist's strong fingers
tangled in my hair. I wondered how long he might try to keep me like this.

Eventually, my air supply would run out and I would have to pull myself off
the big dong. But, before I reached the point where I would have to choose,
Kanaan's grip loosened. I withdrew until only the fleshy head was in my
mouth, and I took in a great lungful of sweet air around its girth.

Once I was satisfied I would not asphyxiate, I sucked Kanaan back into my
throat, this time milking him slowly, running the flat of my tongue along
the bottom of his cock as we began a slow, steady in and out motion.

I reached up, then, to cup Kanaan's bloated balls in my right hand,
squeezing them in time with his inward plunges past my spit-slick lips. I
wondered how would be able to maintain any sort of composure during all of
this, but amazingly, his voice never seemed to waver.

In fact, after a couple of minutes of this treatment, Kanaan's cock swelled
to an even more impressive thickness and, holding just the head of his
throbbing, bucking cock in my mouth, I felt him unload a torrent of soft,
salty-sweet cum across my swirling tongue.

I gulped and swallowed, missing only a drop or two of his semen that
escaped the corners of my mouth, feeling the rivulets run down my chin as
the warm cream coated my throat and belly.

When the flow of potent liquid from Kanaan's cock finally slowed, I
continued using my tongue and lips to milk cum from his softening
flesh. His hand massaged the back of my head, petting it as one might a dog
that has pleased his master, or as a father might stroke his son's hair at
night in front of the television.

This continued for a time, as the psychiatrist's legs gradually relaxed and
his balls grew once more loose and warm in my fingers.

Then, something happened I did not expect.

As the two men spoke above me, my mouth was filled with hot saltiness. For
a second or two, I actually panicked. I had never tasted another man's piss
before, though I had always wondered what such a thing might taste like
from another. The flow stopped, but only long enough for me to gag once and
swallow reflexively. My senses were overwhelmed with the taste and aroma of
his golden urine.

And then Kanaan let loose a flood of steaming, hot piss. I clamped my lips
around the ridge of the big mushroom head and began swallowing as fast as I
could.

At about the seventh full gulp of scalding, Saudi 3piss, my own cock
erupted, showering the carpet below my bare thighs with hot semen. I hadn't
even touched myself. It was all I could do not to make a noise as my orgasm
overwhelmed me. Try concentrating on swallowing the contents of a man's
bladder while in the throes of an unexpected cum. It is harder than it
might seem.

My belly was growing full. I was afraid I might not be able to hold it all,
but the good doctor was nearly empty, and soon the flow of urine had slowed
to a dribble.

I tried to gasp for air as quietly as possible, the taste of Kanaan's piss
heavy on my breath. He reached down, wrapping a fist around his cock and
pulling it back and up, exposing those huge, low-hanging balls
again. Another invitation. The psychiatrist was evidently not finished with
me yet.

I leaned forward, taking first one, then the other plum-sized testicle in
my mouth, laving each with my piss-wet tongue.

Dr. Kanaan shuddered as I took both at once into my mouth, my lips locking
them inside as I nursed on them. All the while, he stroked my head, and his
therapy session continued, unabated.

I lost track of time as the session went on, and I dutifully sucked
Kanaan's balls as it did. I had just lulled myself into an odd sort of
trance when the conversation above me changed again. Dr. Kanaan stirred in
his leather chair and reached into one of the drawers in his desk.

He pulled out, one by one, an expensive-looking set of immersive earphones;
the kind that cover the entire ear and fit snugly against the head; a wide,
black velvet night mask, and a second headset, this one smaller, fitted
with a small boom microphone.

The earphones and mask, Kanaan slid across the desk to his patient. The
headset with the mic, he put on himself as he slid back from the desk. The
balls popped out of my mouth and I watched, now able to near more of what
was being said.

I listened as Mr. Thomas put on the headphones and night mask. Once he had,
Kanaan looked down from his seat, touching a button on one side of his
headset. Then he spoke to me.

"I paid a great deal of money for this equipment," he said. "Robert cannot
see or hear anything other than my own voice, when I wish it. Sensory
deprivation and guided meditation is part of our therapy regimen." He
grinned. "Come out from under there."

I froze. It was one thing to hide under a desk while someone sat,
unheeding, on the other side, but it was quite another to stand, fully
exposed in an office just feet from another patient; a total stranger, in
fact.

"Your issue," Kanaan continued, "is with danger; with the lure of the
taboo." He motioned again for me to emerge from under the desk. "I will
help you to purge that. Stand up."

I did as he bade, reluctantly, turning to peek over the edge of the desk at
the other man. His eyes were covered and the large earphones covered both
ears. He was immersed in his own silence, and the noise-cancelling earphone
kept him completely isolated from what was happening in front of his very
nose.

Standing fully now, I turned to Dr. Kanaan, instinctively looking to him
for direction. Kanaan's hand touched my chest, then my left arm, and he
turned me around to face the desk, and Thomas. As he did, he brought a
finger to his lips to warn me to remain silent, then he un-muted his mic
and began speaking in low, soothing tones to his patient.

Thomas relaxed visibly, settling back into his seat, listening intently to
the psychiatrist's hypnotic voice.

While he spoke to his patient, Dr. Kanaan pushed at the small of my back,
using one foot to kick my legs further apart. My eyes widened.

He couldn't be serious.

The hand pushed harder, and I leaned forward, sprawled across the smooth
wood now, my face just a few feet from the velvet blindfold. He could, at
any time, simply lift the edge of the night mask and see me, naked,
spread-legged upon his doctor's desk.

Or, Kanaan's administrative assistant might decide to interrupt and walk
through the door. I did not remember eve being as petrified (or as
turned-on) as I was in that instant.

Behind me, Dr. Kanaan spoke in slow, measured tones, speaking directly into
Thomas' ears and mind. Thomas occasionally nodded, sometimes answering
Kanaan in a quiet, sober voice.

As the two conversed, I felt the blunt, slick head of the Saudi's cock
press against my tight hole. It was slick with something cool, incredibly
slippery. The man was a wizard. I hadn't seen or heard him put anything on
himself. I felt my smooth anus widen as he pushed a portion of his
mule-cock inside of me. I let out an involuntary moan. The patient didn't
appear to notice.

Another several inches wormed their way into me and I bit my lip to keep
from letting out a cry. The sensations were almost too much.  The slow,
electric slide of him entering me seemed to go on for minutes, until I felt
the hair of his flat groin against my ass and his belly against the small
of my back. I felt so full, spread widely, lewdly under him like a mare
being mounted by a stud.

Behind me, I heard Kanaan's jacket land on the floor. Glancing back, I saw
that his white shirt was unbuttoned and untucked, exposing the dark fur
upon his chest, wide pecs heavier than I had expected, since he was always
wearing relatively unrevealing clothing to our sessions.

I admired the smoothness with which he undressed, his voice never wavering
as he talked his patient through the twists and turns of mind and memory.

His pants he kept fastened. This only accentuated the size of his cock as
it jutted from the open fly, even as the head and several inches remained
buried in my stretched anus.

I turned back to face Kanaan's patient, lost in his dream world, and heard
the slick, liquid sound of the doctor's hand on his own cock, lubing
himself, and his thickness briefly withdrew as he covered the rod from base
to head. Then he re-entered me, sliding slowly, forcefully back in, and
this time he didn't stop until the upturned cheeks of my ass were flattered
by his lean hips.

I reached up, covering my mouth with one hand as I gripped the edge of the
desk with my other. I feared I might cry out. I could think of nothing at
all in that moment but the sensation of Kanaan buried completely inside of
me; of fullness; of being pinned to hard, polished wood; of being
controlled completely, and of being powerless to do anything but surrender
to the sweet pleasure of hot, throbbing flesh pulsing in my guts.

Kanaan began to move. He was slow, confident, sliding himself all the way
back until only the fat head held my open, then forward again, my hot,
slick walls being pushed aside by the wrist-thick organ. He bottomed out
inside me again, holding himself there for a few seconds so that I could
feel how far inside me he was able to reach. Then the long, torturous slide
back out; then back in.

My mind swam in dizzy pleasure, almost overwhelming. There was a part of me
that now couldn't care less that the man in front of my might see. I
suppose part of me derived a thrill from the thought of him lifting his
mask, despite the disastrous results of such a thing happening, to me, yes,
but even more to Dr. Kanaan. It would end his career, subject him to a
lawsuit, sanctions from the governing body of his profession.

His deep, soothing voice began to affect me as well, even though his words
were meant for someone else's ears.

"Relax," the doctor intoned, "Let yourself go. Release your inhibitions and
let me in. I will guide you home." The man in front of me relaxed visibly,
deep in his hypnotic state.

I lost track of what Kanaan was saying to him, but I'd swear that at some
point, he spoke directly into my right ear, his breath hot and moist.

"You like that, don't you," Kanaan whispered to me. "I am breeding
you... just as you have always craved; just as you dreamed each time you
were arrested and hauled to jail for being out in public trying to be seen
without being caught. You wanted what was coming; you just didn't want the
consequences."

The huge cock moved faster now, its width plunging into my ass again and
again, wet sounds emanating from the stretched ring of my hole as he fucked
in long, sure strokes.

"Is this what you wanted," Kanaan asked, his breath coming in deeper,
quicker pants now. "A real man inside you in the company of an innocent
bystander? Is it?" He punctuated his sentences with deep thrusts that took
my breath away. "Answer..."

"Yes.. this is... unh... what I want, Doctor."  I didn't have the presence
of mind even to contemplate lying to him.

Kanaan's shirt came off, the bare skin and fur of his flat belly slapping
against my lower back. God but then man could fuck.  It was becoming harder
and harder for him to maintain the composure in his voice as he spoke to
his patient. He muted himself more and more often.

"Tell me what you want," he ordered, driving himself into me.

"I want you to cum inside me, Doctor. I want you to breed me. Fuck... empty
those big balls in my ass," I gasped.

"If I do, you will be mine. You should know this before you make your
decision. I will take my pleasure inside you any time I like, day or night,
from this day forward. If I tell you to come here and do exactly what we're
doing now, you'll do it. If I tell you to kneel in front of one of my
patience and service him as I guide him through his meditation, you'll do
it. Do you understand? You belong to me."

"Yes... fuck, yes... Anything."

"Say it," his voice dropped lower, almost threatening. "SAY it, and I'll
give you what you need."

"I belong to you," he whispered.

"Again."

"I belong to you."

His thrusts quickened further and one arm slid around my neck, something
between a hug and a sleeper hold as his panting in my ear grew louder.
"Take it. Take my big cock.. Fuck...FUCK..."

"Yeah, breed me Doctor. Take my ass. Take whatever you want."

With a deep grunt and a cry that he couldn't completely muffle, Kanaan
buried his face in the crook of my neck, gathering the sensitive flesh
there between his teeth and biting down, holding me motionless as he began
to cum inside me. I counted at least 12 pulses as he held himself buried
deep, planting his seed with each hunch against my upturned ass.

The discomfort of the bite, the heat of his breath, the sensation of being
utterly owned and bred by a man in authority sent me over the edge and I
coated the rear of Kanaan's desk with my own cum, my thighs and lower belly
sweating against polished wood and sliding back and forth as he wiggled his
hips against mine.

The patient before us, perhaps sensing something strange, reached up, his
hand moving toward the blindfold upon his face, but a few stern words from
the psychiatrist were enough to stop him from revealing our lewd charade.

Nevertheless, Kanaan apparently decided not to tempt the fates further and
straightened, sliding his heavy, swollen length out of me and leaving me
panting, sprawled there upon the desk.

As he slid his arms into his shirtsleeves and stuffed his thick meat back
into his pants, Kanaan gestured to me, then to the closet in which I had
stashed my clothes. Our session was clearly over for the time being.

"Stay in the closet until I come get you," he said.

I nodded and pushed myself up from the desk, still spent and dizzy from the
experience. Walking across the carpet, I could feel Kanaan's semen oozing
from my stretched hole and dripping in slow rivulets down the crack of my
ass. The doctor obvious had a lot to give from those huge, swaying balls.

As I closed the closet door behind me, I allowed myself to enjoy the
soothing darkness. I thought about what had just happened. I already know
that I wanted to happen again.

I didn't bother getting dressed. Instead, I stretched out and laid down in
the cool dimness, watching the light from under the door and dozing off to
the sounds of muffled voices.

I dreamed of therapy. I dreamed I was pregnant; made so by my handsome,
virile stud of a psychiatrist.

There are worse things in this world than being a mental wreck, it would
seem.

I am certain that one day Dr. Kanaan will cure me of my obsessions, and I
want him to.

Just...not yet.

***