Special Salutations

How To Not Give A BlowJob

"Did you do it?" The psychologist asks.

I still don't know his name. He maybe doesn't have one.

"Yes look." I show him the photos I took. He looks impressed.

"I'd like to see it. Now." He stares down at my sweatpants. I look down at them too, and at the bulge there. "Why?"

"To make sure you actually did it."

"But I have proof i-"

"You could have faked it."

"How?"

"Just show me, boy."

I undo the knot on the sweatpants. They drop down. Then the underwear. 

We both stare at the floppy thing between my legs. I've always hated the way it looks, like it doesn't belong there, like it's a zit that should be popped and extracted. The psychologist is looking at it proudly though. He bends down and touches it and I flinch. 

"Hey! Stop..."

"Come on, just let me enjoy this. I've always wanted this. It's been my dream ever since..." He stops talking and takes a long sniff. The second hand embarrassment is almost painful now. I hope the door is locked. His fingers poke around in my now dry cuts. It hurts but in a good way, rather than the intense pain I felt last night.

"Tell me about your pain, Stan."

Stan. That's new. No one's ever called me that before. I kinda like it.

"Well- I- All I've ever known are whores, ex-prostitutes and fetish models. Men and women. It's weird now when I see men with pretty, classy, innocent women- I see them in the supermarkets, I see them walking down the streets together, having picnics, in cafés. I see them through their windows: people at peace, living together and I know I'll never be able to live with a woman like that. I'm not sure with any woman really. My mother wanted me to settle down with one but she's dead now so i won't be doing that. And I never really... Women are so ungrateful. So time consuming, always wanting things. I have too many problems to focus on theirs."

He stops and looks up at me. "And how do you feel about men?"

I am stunned at the question. It seems so uncharacteristic for a psychologist to ask. 

"I- I did have a crush on a boy once. I tried to kiss him even but he bit my top lip off. That's why it looks like this." I tap it with one finger, drawing attention to the entirely missing top lip, showing his gums and teeth. 

The psychologist winces. "Haven't you tried to get reconstruction surgery?"

"Can't afford it with my job." I muttered, burying my fingers in his hair and tugging at the soft strands. This makes the psychologist lick them more vigorously. I nearly fall backwards but his hands quickly wrap around my waist and then slide down so they're gripping my cheeks. My eyes roll up in their sockets, mouth hanging agape in a silent scream as I cum on his face. Some of it hits him in his eyes and it obviously burns because he makes a face and starts blinking hard.

"Th- thank you." I moan as I keep spraying his lime green carpet. It will probably show the stains unless we wipe them quickly. 

I look at the clock and see my time is up. This took longer than it felt like, I think, as I pull up my sweatpants and smile to myself, striding out of the psychologists office. What a nice day...