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.