undietales: The exchange is not exactly equivalent, but it’s not like I don’t get anythi

undietales:

The exchange is not exactly equivalent, but it’s not like I don’t get anything out of it. A lot of these guys come to me as broken things: they’ve seen too much or had too much done to them. They have issues with trust, with boundaries; their personal lives are a disaster. I take them in, feed and clothe them. I’m clear with them upfront that this is work, not a temporary vacation from their lives. Mostly they understand. I spent eight months working with Joel. 

He had finally gotten to a place where things were improving. He’d cut out hard drugs and alcohol (mostly) and had started a serious gym regimen, which kept him out of his old circles. He’d recently got a job as an office manager, temporary but with the possibility of staying on permanently. He was happy. 

He said it was a small price to pay that he woke up on Thursday afternoons, showered, and went home without exactly remembering what had happened. 

As a routine, as he was walking out the door I handed him a flash drive with a video record of our entire session (the only copy) to review if he ever felt like it. No pressure. 

He told me that he had no reason to watch the videos.

But every week when Joel was face down on the white bed with his mind emptying itself of all the static, shedding all of its secrets, Joel told me that he watched those videos over and over during the week between our one-on-one sessions. He always turned out the lights in his room, locked the door, closed the blinds, and masturbated as he watched himself strip into his white briefs and lie face down on the bed. Joel confessed to me, in that hazy space that we call therapy for lack of a better word, that he had never been able to make it past the part where I crawl between his legs, pull down those clean white briefs and lower my tongue to his twitching, hungry hole. 

He would always cum at that part—where I ate him out—and it gave him an extra thrill that he’d never experienced that feeling outside of our one-on-ones. He’d never anyone do it to him: not his wife, or his mistress, or any of the men he saw when that certain itch needed scratching. He experienced it only through the video, but he could guess at how much it turned him on while he was under.