Cop A Feel - Chapter 1

By RobinHood70 -
published October 27, 2020
22148 words

Matt Doyle is injured in the line of duty and has to see a physiotherapist for some highly personalized therapy

  • Vicente Vasquez (1)
  • Matthew Doyle (1, 2)
  • Sean Doyle (1, 2, 3)
  • Ethan Doyle (1, 2, 3)

“Sorry, sir, but I’m gonna have to write a letter to your captain excusing you from work for the next couple of weeks, then restricting you to desk duty after that until you’re fully healed”, the ER doctor apologized after he’d finished putting my arm in a sling.

“Aw, c’mon, man! That’s like sending me to prison! That’s worse than sending me to prison!”, I complained vehemently. The doctor, however, seemed unmoved. “C’mon, please?” I begged, hoping the change in tack from tough guy to just a regular person making an appeal might get better results. That got a reaction, though not quite the one I’d been expecting, as I saw a flash of interest on the doctor’s face for just the briefest moment before his professional demeanour took over once again. Gay, bi, or maybe something else altogether – who knew these days? –but this guy was suddenly putty in my hands. I didn’t normally put up with that kind of shit, but there was very little I wouldn’t do if it meant getting out of desk duty. Well, that and I was feeling absolutely no pain right now, and was very happy about that, thanks to whatever they’d given me.

“Look, I’ll take it easy, I promise! Just pretty please don’t tell my captain I have to sit at a desk all day. That’s like being a doctor and never seeing a patient”, I said, hoping that would elicit some sympathy. Had I actually just used the words “pretty please”? I was farther gone than I realized. “It could mean answering phones, shuffling papers, watching security cameras, or something even more stupendously boring. C’mon, man!”, I said, deliberately putting on my best begging-puppy face.

“Fine!”, he sighed in surrender. “I’ll let you off with desk duty for a while, Mr. Doyle, then I’ll suggest that your captain let you play traffic cop or something after that, but only when you’re sure you’re up to it! That’s the best I can do. And I’m going to give you the name of a physiotherapist that I want you to see. That shoulder’s going to need work if you ever want to stop being a traffic cop again. Got it?”

“Got it!”, I replied earnestly. Putty or not, the look on the doctor’s face said he meant it. He didn’t have to tell me twice. As a crime investigator, desk duty most likely meant going over cold cases, but even then, I’d probably be restricted to review, phone calls, and little else. The duties I’d told the doctor weren’t entirely out of the question, either, though they were unlikely at my level of seniority. I’d figured it wouldn’t hurt to overstate my case a little, though. As it was, being a traffic cop was only marginally better, though I supposed it would be a change of pace, at any rate. It suited some of the guys just fine, especially the younger ones who understood it was a stepping-stone, but it really wasn’t something I wanted to be doing for the rest of my life.

When I got back to the station, the captain called me into his office. Normally, he would’ve spoken to my sergeant and then the sergeant would’ve spoken to me, but the sergeant was on vacation and I was next in line, so I’d been gracing his office a little more often recently.

“Geez, you guys are dropping like flies!”, the captain chuckled. “Next thing you know, I’m gonna have to put Randy in charge of Major Crimes”, he said, referring to the grizzled old Canine retiree who was still a regular visitor at the station. “What happened to you out there, anyway, Matt? About all I got from the guys coming back from the field was that you’d badly twisted your shoulder. They had evidence to process, so I let them get to it, but they seemed very amused by how you guys had found that evidence and insisted that you should be the one to tell me about the incident.”

“Oh, it was stupid!”, I told him, trying to brush it off.

“Most accidents are”, he said, his look simultaneously commiserating and amused. “C’mon, out with it! What did you do?”, he prompted. I sighed, knowing the captain wasn’t gonna let me off the hook.

“I was reaching behind a fridge out in a barn”, I explained. “You know, one of those old fridges from the fifties that could double as a tank? Anyway, I was reaching behind it to check for evidence and I tried to prod around the back to see if there was anything hidden there. Well, my vest got stuck on the grill. When I couldn’t get it out, I tried to yank it a bit and I accidentally put my foot in a pile of…uhhh…what I’d thought was just mud at first.” I could feel my face reddening slightly. “Anyway, when I fell, I went down hard, but my shoulder stayed right where it was. I’m lucky I didn’t dislocate it, but I still tore it all to hell.” The chief smiled indulgently, knowing there was more.

“Well, the guys heard me yell and came running, finding me slipping and sliding in shit with my arm wrenched way out of position. I couldn’t get any traction to get back up, but my vest was still caught and so I couldn’t fall, either. All in all, that’s maybe not such a bad thing, considering what I would’ve fallen into.

“Anyway, they helped me up and got my arm dislodged, and after they’d hosed my feet down, one of them offered to take me to the hospital to get my shoulder looked at. So then, as he and I are heading for his squad car, one of the guys calls out that they found something under the goddamned fridge I’d gotten stuck on! Turns out it was in the empty compressor area at the bottom, covered by a front panel that was only screwed on with a couple of hand-turned screws. If I’d thought of looking there first, I could’ve found it without all this god-forsaken shit—literally—happening to me!”

The captain was snickering openly at this point. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it must have been quite painful for you, but I’m still picturing the venerated Constable Doyle scrambling in shit, half-way onto his ass, stuck on a fridge! Don’t suppose anyone got a picture of you, did they?”, he laughed heartily. “So, desk duty, huh?”, he said with a smirk.

I coughed, choking on my own saliva, as I involuntarily switched from laughing at myself to gasping in shock at his sudden change in direction. It probably didn’t help that I was still feeling a bit happy from the pain meds they’d given me at the hospital, plus I’d taken the Dilaudid they’d prescribed on the schedule they’d told me to, and those were starting to kick in as well. But the captain’s comment brought me back to reality, at least for a moment. “Wait, what? The doctor called you already?”, I gasped hoarsely, trying to recover.

The captain still had a look of amusement on his face. “I got off the phone with him only minutes before you got back. You’re not the first cop he’s ever dealt with, you know! He said he’d write the letter later this week to make it official, but he wanted to make sure I knew about his recommendation before you tried to weasel out of it. He wasn’t quite that blunt about it, but that was the general idea, anyway.

“Relax”, he countered before I’d even spoken, seeing the objection forming on my face. “He told me you’d indicated that that was a death sentence, and that he’d reluctantly cleared you for light duty when you were feeling well enough, so here’s the deal: since it’s not that much different from what you’d have to do anyway, you’re on desk duty just until Sergeant Hunt returns. Then, if you’re up to it by that point, you can sit in a squad car for however long, monitoring for speeders on the highway. I know, I know, for a guy like you, that’s about the worst possible assignment short of desk duty, but the doc made it quite clear how he felt about even letting you do that much. He specifically told me that I shouldn’t let you off desk duty until your therapist cleared you for it, and even once you’re back in a black-and-white, you’re to call for backup if a situation needs you to do anything other than issuing a ticket.

“And speaking of your therapist, let me know what kind of schedule he or she wants, since I’ll likely have to give you time off for it. Normally, patrol officers do shift work, as I’m sure you remember, but since you’re recovering and this is only for a short time, I’ll ask the staff sergeant to put you on days only and match you with someone who can do nights only. Then, if you can manage it, try to get late-afternoon appointments with the therapist so you can just go straight home afterwards, if you’re working that day. That’ll probably be the least disruptive for everyone. I want you back to your regular duties as soon as you’re up to it, though. You’re a good man, Doyle, and Major Crimes won’t be the same without you, even if it’s only for a short while.”

I beamed at the compliment and made my way back to my own desk. That hadn’t gone quite as well as I’d hoped, but it was still better than straight-up desk duty. Sergeant Hunt was back in just over two weeks, and like the captain had said, at this point in our two ongoing investigations, most of what I would’ve been doing would’ve been behind-the-scenes stuff anyway. The only thing that would really be different was if more evidence were found or a new case came up, I wouldn’t be allowed out in the field for the time being. I didn’t think that was tremendously likely in the short amount of time before the sergeant returned, but you never knew—major crimes didn’t exactly happen on a set schedule.

Before I got back to work, I figured I’d better get the phone calls I had to make out of the way. The first was to the physiotherapist, Vicente Vasquez, who didn’t answer, so I left what I knew was a bit of a rambling message. The second was to my older son, Sean.

“Hey Sean, it’s me! Are you good? I’m good! Ummm…say…listen. No, not say…what am I saying? Just listen”, I told him blissfully after he answered the phone. “Can you pick me up at the station later?”, I asked. Those prescription pain meds were really starting to kick in now.

“Uh…yeah, sure. What’s up? And why do you sound so weird?”, he asked.

“I’m on some really nice pain meds. They’re really good. I’ll explain later.” I blushed slightly at the thought of having to explain what happened to him and my younger son, Ethan, though it really didn’t seem all that bad just at the moment.

“Hey, Ethan, c’mere”, I heard Sean call out. “You gotta listen to this! Dad’s blitzed! And he’s still at the station. You should hear him, he’s hilarious!” After a quick, muffled explanation that I couldn’t make out all of, his voice got a bit louder, though he was obviously still talking to his brother. “Yeah, he’s not telling. You know that means it’s gonna be good!”, he laughed.

After a minute, he came back on with me. “Yeah, sure Dad. What time?” His voice sounded a bit more distant, and it took me longer than it should have to realize that he’d switched to speakerphone so that Ethan could hear too.

“This is one of those times when I should’ve texted, isn’t it?”, I sighed deprecatingly. At least I hoped that’s how I sounded. I thought I sounded pretty normal, but clearly Sean thought otherwise. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do here”, I told him. “You know, lots of good…errr…hard stuff…like reports and stuff. And this stuff’s not gonna be any easier on pain meds!”, I said, realizing after I said it that I sounded far more excited than I should have about figuring out that the pain meds were going to make things harder. “How does six sound?”, I asked.

“Sure thing, Dad. See you then. Have a fun afternoon…”, he trailed off as Ethan talked over top of him, “…and stuff!” I heard the two of them laughing until Sean finally hung up.

Perhaps not surprisingly, I didn’t get much done after that, though a cup of coffee helped clear my head at least a little bit. Or maybe it was the fact that whatever they’d pumped into me at the hospital was wearing off, leaving only the Dilaudid. Either way, while I still felt pretty out of it and a bit dizzy, I was pretty sure I was forming coherent sentences again.

The explanation when the boys picked me up went about as expected, with snickers and laughter from both of them, though I thought they were more amused at their policeman father being drugged up than anything else. I wasn’t as bad as I’d been earlier in the day, but I was still pretty out of it. They were both clearly relieved that it hadn’t been anything serious—always a concern when you lived with a cop—and they did their best to help me out over the next few days while the pain was at its worst.

As long as I kept it fairly still, my shoulder didn’t hurt too badly after those first couple of days, and I was able to switch to off-the-shelf medication, so I was fully lucid again. Driving was a challenge but doable, though if I was being honest with myself, I would’ve been skeptical about that if I’d pulled someone over with the same level of injury as I had. I’d gone lefty for a few things, and masturbation was especially challenging that way, but apart from that, the shoulder was coming along well enough, I thought. Then came my first appointment with the physiotherapist.

Vicente turned out to be a short, thin, Latino guy in about his mid- to late-thirties. To the untrained eye, he probably appeared unthreatening, but I easily picked up on the musculature hiding beneath his wiry frame—probably an important thing to have for a physiotherapist. I wasn’t all that good at figuring out what made a guy attractive, but Vicente really didn’t strike me as someone for the ladies. Then again, judging from his body language, I was pretty sure it wasn’t the ladies he was trying to appeal to anyway. He came off as slightly effeminate and, thinking back to the doctor who had recommended him, it didn’t take much effort to figure out that they were probably both playing for the same team. He kept things professional as we discussed my injury and what the treatment would involve, though, so his presumed sexuality wasn’t much of an issue. I was very self-conscious when he asked me to take off my shirt and he helped me get out of the sling, but within a few minutes, I was in far too much pain to focus on anything but when this session was going to be over.

The first day I came out of his office, I had to call the boys to pick me up again, Sean driving me home in my car while Ethan drove back in theirs. Sean had brought my Dilaudid with him and I popped one the moment he arrived, sitting quietly in the car for most of the drive home after reassuring Sean that I’d be okay, given time. I ended up taking another Dilaudid when the first one wore off, but it wasn’t too bad after that. Even though I wasn’t in Vice, I was all too aware of how addictive the stuff could be, so I was very careful not to take it unless I absolutely needed to.

It was hard to argue with the results of the therapy by the next day, though. Vicente had encouraged me to leave the sling off from time to time and to start moving my shoulder around a bit when I could. When I’d first woken up, it had been extremely stiff and painful, but by mid-morning, I was noticing that I could move it a little bit without too much pain. That was more than I’d been able to do at any point in the week since I’d first injured myself.

“No pain this time”, Vicente promised at the start of our second session. “At least not yet. I need to check your shoulder and assess how you reacted to our first session. If it seems okay, I’ll give your captain a call and let him know. I’m also going to suggest a few relaxation exercises before we get started. That’ll help with the painful stuff later on”, he told me. So, I sat back as he massaged my shoulder, prodding it somewhat painfully a couple of times as he figured out how things were doing. For the most part, it wasn’t too bad, though.

Then, he started to encourage me to relax, focussing on everything but my shoulder, which seemed strange to me. How would relaxing the top of my head or the muscles in my legs help my shoulder? It must have done something, though, because I barely even noticed when he started moving my shoulder around. It was painful a lot of the time, but it was like that pain was happening to someone else. Throughout the entire appointment, Vicente encouraged me to stay relaxed, to relax even more deeply, and to ignore any sensation from my shoulder completely. It was surprisingly effective.

I almost laughed towards the end of the appointment, though. He suggested that I should put everything that had happened since I’d arrived out of my mind. Just let it drift away, like it wasn’t important. I’d been here with him for probably an hour or so, and he thought that it was just going to drift away? He was delusional! Even if it had felt like it was happening to someone else, he’d still been hurting me almost the entire time I’d been here. That wasn’t something I was likely to just let…drift…away. Just let it drift…away. Forget…and drift away. Nothing important about it…just let it drift away…and forget.

I felt so out of it when I finally opened my eyes. “That’s it?”, I asked groggily. “But we hardly did any–”, I stopped mid-word when I realized that I’d been here for nearly an hour. “Holy shit!”

“I told you the relaxation exercises would help”, Vicente assured me with a sympathetic smile. “I admit I was a bit surprised when you drifted off, but it was actually quite useful. I was able to work on your shoulder quite a bit without you tensing up like you did last time.”

I worked my shoulder around carefully, surprised to find that he was right. While it was more painful than when I’d arrived, it also felt much looser and easier to move. I’d asked the boys to be on standby in case I needed a drive home again, almost expecting that I would, but instead, I ended up calling them to tell them that they were off the hook.

That made both of them happy because it was getting towards the end of the school year and they both had a lot of things to do. Sean would be graduating college this year, while Ethan was looking forward to starting at the Saskatoon campus of the University of Saskatchewan in the fall. I’d always expected him to try to get a scholarship at one of the top universities—he certainly had the marks and the skills for it—but he’d been quite insistent that the local campus was plenty good enough. However well he did in school, he was a loner at heart and preferred a quiet, stable environment that he knew. In this case, that clearly meant he wanted to continue living at home while he went through university. I certainly had no objections—I was already getting empty-nest syndrome thinking about Sean likely moving out on his own soon. Knowing that Ethan wanted to stick around for a couple more years was comforting.

The boys were surprised at how well I was doing by the time I got home. I think, deep down, they’d been expecting a repeat of the week before and thought that I was just pretending to be in less pain than I was. But that wasn’t the case at all! Already, my shoulder was feeling almost back to what it had been at the start of the appointment, only now it was more flexible to boot! With me remaining asleep and relaxed the whole time Vicente had been working on me, I hadn’t stiffened up like I had the week before. Once I’d convinced the boys that I actually was doing as well as I seemed to be, they went back to their schoolwork.

The following Monday, Sergeant Hunt returned from his vacation. I spent the morning bringing him up to speed on our active investigations, but the captain didn’t let me get away with anything more than that. When I got back from lunch, he told me to grab a squad car and check with dispatch where they wanted me. The dispatcher suggested that I head over to the highway leading west out of the city. I suspected the captain had told him to put me there, as it was usually really easy pickings and there was rarely anything more dangerous than a speeder out that way. It was often somewhere we put the rookies since it was pretty harmless.

It’d been some time since I’d done this sort of thing, but I knew the drill. I’d never worked in this particular section of the city before, though, so I drove around for a bit, looking for a nice place to settle where I wouldn’t be spotted by speeders until it was too late. What some of the locals called “the split” seemed like the natural location, so I settled in near there. It was the intersection of two different highways, one of them being a two-lane highway that split into four with a divider. People often forgot to slow as they got closer to town, plus there was the highway crossing it, which people tended to barrel down if they had a green light. Hiding the car wasn’t easy in that area, but I managed to find a small hill nearby that I could park behind, blocking me from sight well enough.

Holding the lidar gun turned out to be a challenge with my right shoulder still being nearly useless for anything that required strength of any kind, but I got it all worked out after a bit and nabbed my first speeder less than an hour later. The shoulder really stiffened up over the afternoon, though, so I called Vicente to see if he might be able to fit in an extra appointment before our regular one, tomorrow. I went straight through to his voicemail, unfortunately, but he called me back only a few minutes later.

“There’s only so much I can do outside of a full appointment”, he explained after I told him that my shoulder was worse today after holding the speed gun all afternoon, “and I’m already halfway home. Still, if you wanna meet me there, I can probably run you through some quick muscle relaxation and stretching. I’ll have you in and out in about ten minutes or so”, he offered.

“Well, I guess. I sure as hell don’t wanna put up with this for another day, so that’ll have to do. What’s the address?” Truth was, despite his professionalism so far, I was worried the guy was going to use the opportunity to hit on me or something. I could probably take care of myself, even in my current condition, but I didn’t want to have to. Even if he didn’t hit on me, though, it still felt awfully personal going to the guy’s home for physiotherapy. I considered taking Dilaudid instead, but the therapy seemed more appealing despite the potential downsides.

When I got to Vicente’s place, he had me take off my shirt and sit on a stool in his kitchen. There was little doubt that this was the home of a gay man, given how it was decorated. The artistic nudes on his walls were a dead giveaway, since every last one of them was of a man, though the word “man” was probably being generous for most. One looked to be close to my age, but most of the rest were probably in their twenties at the oldest. Nearly all displayed obvious signs of submission, such as wearing collars, being on their knees, or having the word “slave” written somewhere on their bodies.

Vicente clearly noticed me looking at them, but he made no excuses. Despite my distaste at his choices, not to mention my concerns about him possibly hitting on me, he remained as professional as ever. Given what I was seeing, I wondered if I was simply too old for him. As soon as the thought occurred to me, I felt insulted that he hadn’t tried to hit on me so far. I knew it was ridiculous, but there it was.

As Vicente massaged my shoulder, he started walking me through the same relaxation exercises he’d used the last time I’d seen him. They really did help! Pretty soon, I was relaxing and letting him work on my shoulder without a care in the world.

He paused after maybe ten or fifteen minutes—it was kind of hard to tell how long, exactly, given how I was feeling. “Open your eyes and answer my question, Matt”, he told me. It was a little bizarre that he felt the need to tell me to answer his question. Why didn’t he just ask it? “Do you need to call your boys to let them know you’re going to be a while?”, he asked.

“Yes, I should, or they’ll be worried”, I agreed. I felt so groggy and detached—it was worse than when I’d been on the Dilaudid. Well, the detachment was worse; it was a lot more enjoyable in its own way, though. Wait, I was going to be a while? I’d thought this was just going to be a quick in-and-out massage. I was distracted from trying to puzzle it out further by Vicente’s voice.

“Okay, do that. Tell them that your shoulder needs quite a bit of work, and that it might be a couple of hours before you’re home”, he instructed. “Then, I want you to just close your eyes and relax while I get back to work on your shoulder.”

I complied with his request, telling the boys not to wait on me to have dinner. After I was done talking to them, I closed my eyes again, letting my phone fall down by my side. I almost dropped the thing, actually, but Vicente caught it before it fell, and I heard him put it on the table nearby. Apart from that, he just kept working on my shoulder.

After he’d been working on it for a while, continuing to encourage me to relax, he started talking about how I should keep my entire body relaxed. According to him, it was important that he massage not just my shoulder, but other places as well, and he encouraged me to let him do so.

I was too relaxed to even acknowledge him, but I stayed calm as Vicente started to move away from my shoulder every so often, moving down my arm and back up, then moving across my shoulders in a very intimate, relaxing way that would have been highly arousing had it been a woman. I even felt what I thought were his lips on the back of my neck a couple of times. Obviously, none of it did anything for me, but since he’d told me to let him massage me elsewhere, I did, regardless of whether it was his hands or his lips that were doing so.

I thought it was funny when he suggested that I forget everything that had happened since I’d arrived, except for calling the boys, and to just relax and follow his suggestions once I woke up again. Why on earth would I forget everything that had happened? Now that he mentioned it, though, I actually was having a hard time remembering anything apart from the call. A minute later, after he instructed me to, I opened my eyes.

“I’m going to move around in front of you in just a moment, Matt, and when I do, I want you to keep your eyes on my face and only my face. Nothing else will matter to you except staring straight at my face”, he insisted.

He actually peeked his face around first, so it had to be the first thing I saw, then the rest of him followed. Out of the edge of my eyes, I could tell something was off, and I wanted to look down to see what was bothering me, but I decided not to. All that really mattered was staring at Vicente’s face.

“That’s very good, Matt. Now, why don’t you follow me into the living room and lie down on your back on the floor”, he suggested.

Once again, I did as he asked, though it was a bit awkward, since I also kept staring at his face as he walked into the room beside me. Lowering myself to his floor on my good side, I then rolled onto my back. Looking up at him, I had a much stronger sense that something was wrong here, yet I was still unable to pay attention to anything except his face.

“Perfect, Matt”, he complimented me on having followed his instructions. “Now, just close your eyes and relax once more.”

It was difficult to relax when I had that nagging sense of something being wrong, but Vicente obviously realized that something was bothering me and asked me what was up. Leaving my eyes closed, I told him about how I’d been feeling when I’d had my eyes open. He was very understanding and encouraged me to just let it go for now. He promised that by the next time I opened my eyes, he would have fixed the problem, and I would be able to relax completely.

Taking his word for it, I followed his renewed instructions to relax and let him work on other areas of my body. I ignored the pressure of his weight as he sat astride my waist, focussing instead on the feel of his hands as he massaged my shoulders from the front, this time making his way down my body to my pecs and even lightly running his hands over my stomach muscles. I was in pretty good shape despite my age, and I was proud of the fact that I still had a six-pack with only the thinnest layer of middle-aged fat over it.

As I continued relaxing for him, I felt his tongue on my nipples, the warm wetness encouraging me to go ever deeper. I had a vague impression he’d used that word a few times now, “deeper”, but the feel of his tongue drove me deeper still, and the momentary oddness I’d felt about his word choice went with it.

We spoke for quite some time about what had bothered me earlier when I’d had my eyes open. Apparently, what had been bothering me was that he’d had an erection and I just hadn’t noticed it because of how focussed I’d been on his face. It was nothing I needed to worry about right now, though, so I just continued to relax. At Vicente’s suggestion, I opened my eyes, staring straight towards his crotch. That obviously wasn’t something I’d normally do, but I was okay doing it here in private, since he’d told me to.

Looking straight at it, I saw that there was a large protrusion, which I was distantly aware was his erection, but that seemed monumentally unimportant to me. It might be slightly amusing if I noticed it in the future, but certainly nothing I needed to concern myself with unless Vicente called attention to it, and even then, it was really nothing all that notable. It would be like he was pointing out a mole he had or a childhood scar.

Once he was sure I was comfortable, he told me to close my eyes again, drifting back down to the pleasant relaxation he said was so useful for my therapy. In addition to relaxing me physically, he said, it relieved a lot of work stress as well, making it highly addictive. It was so addictive, in fact, that any time we discussed it in the future, I knew I’d happily come back to this relaxed state for him. Just to make sure it never happened by accident, though, he suggested that I should only actually relax like this when he touched my forehead just between my eyes and told me to sleep for him. I would relax completely each and every time he did that, quickly becoming even more relaxed and suggestible than I was now…more relaxed and suggestible each time.

I didn’t see myself relaxing quite that easily just because he touched me and told me to sleep for him, but we practiced it a few times, just so I could get a feel for it. The first few times, it was just with my eyes closed and me being relaxed already. Even now, I was beginning to associate him touching my forehead and telling me to sleep for him with how I was feeling. He also suggested that anytime he wanted to do that, or even just seemed like he might—like if he asked me to come stand in front of him—that I should cooperate with him in any way he asked. That was just the polite thing to do, of course, the same way I lifted or exercised my arm whenever he asked.

Once I felt comfortable with all of that, Vicente told me that I should practice always remaining in the same position when he asked me to sleep for him rather than going limp like I would if I were actually sleeping. The only thing that should change would be that I would close my eyes and relax into complete suggestibility. So, if I had been sitting upright, I’d remain sitting upright; if I’d been standing, I’d remain standing, and so on. We practiced that a few times as well, again with me staying fully relaxed and suggestible the entire time. We’d practice doing it while I was awake later on as opportunities arose, he told me, which made sense given that he’d only need to do it during my therapy sessions.

I felt a vague sense of familiarity when he asked me to forget everything that had happened since he’d had me lie down on the floor. It seemed like a silly thing to ask me to do, all in all. Who in the hell forgot something just because you asked them to?

“Hey, Matt!”, Vicente said, looking down at me when I opened my eyes. He was sitting on my hips, his hands resting gently in the middle of my chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm…I’m doing okay, I guess. But…uh…could you like…not sit where you’re sitting in the future? Forgive me for saying so, but you’re obviously gay, and it seems like kind of a sexual position.” My eyes were briefly drawn to his crotch as I looked down at exactly where he was sitting, and I noticed that he had what appeared to be a good-sized erection. Mentally, I snickered, but I politely kept it all on the inside. Guys got hard unexpectedly sometimes, even as they got older, and I didn’t think it was worth making a fuss over.

“Oh, sorry Matt. I didn’t realize it would make you uncomfortable. I just find it easiest to work on your chest and stomach from there, but I’ll do something different the next time”, he assured me, briefly pressing on my chest as he stood up. “You really have nothing to worry about anyway”, he grinned. “I’m a total top, so sitting astride your crotch isn’t something I get much out of. How’s your shoulder feeling, by the way?”, he asked as I stood up awkwardly using my good shoulder.

“A bit better”, I told him after testing it briefly. “It’s not as good as I’d hoped, but you said there was only so much you could do. I appreciate your efforts, though”, I thanked him. My eyes were drawn down to his groin again as he briefly, but very conspicuously, readjusted himself.

“That doesn’t bother you, does it?”, he asked. He didn’t need to clarify what he meant.

“No, no, of course not! It’s hardly the first erection I’ve seen”, I reassured him, having seen many other erections in porn, not to mention the occasional pervert I’d come across in my years as a cop. “Anyway, I should get going”, I told him, wandering back into the kitchen to grab my shirt. “I told the boys I’d be a couple of hours, but it looks like it’s actually going to be less than that”, I said, looking at my watch.

“Yeah, it did go pretty quick, didn’t it?”, Vicente agreed as I started finding the armholes in my shirt. “Just before you put your shirt on, though, can you come here for a sec?”, he requested.

“Oh, sure, Vicente”, I agreed. As he reached up to grasp my head with his hand and put his thumb between my eyes, I had a mental image of what he was going to do. Nobody had ever done anything like that to me before that I could think of, yet somehow, I knew exactly what he wanted to do. “Sleep for me”, he ordered. My eyes closed, seemingly of their own volition, and I felt Vicente steady me with his hands as I relaxed very deeply. He had nothing to worry about, though, as I kept my balance easily.

At his suggestion, I let my shirt fall to the floor and relaxed even deeper. I still needed to do a lot of work on my relaxation, and Vicente wanted to massage me in even more places than he already had. It was quite important that he be allowed to do so without any complaints from me. Opening my eyes again, but staying completely relaxed, I took off my pants and followed him up to his bedroom, lying down on his bed so he could continue his physiotherapy.

I wasn’t at all surprised when he got to work on my legs, his hands rubbing over my various muscles and then up around my lower stomach and back down to my inner thighs. I was a bit apprehensive at first when he got a little too close to my junk, but he never touched it, and he even took the time to reassure me that, as a professional, he would only ever work on the muscle groups I needed to help me relax. His reassurance helped, so I let him massage me wherever he wanted, his hands getting increasingly closer to my crotch without ever actually touching anything he didn’t need to. Even as he ran his fingers over my pubic region, I just continued to relax, feeling increasingly confident that he wouldn’t touch me anywhere inappropriate, at least not unless he needed to. There were a few accidental touches, not surprisingly, both of my balls and my cock, but they were mostly brief, and I knew there was no intent behind them, so I let them slide. One time, his accidental touch was fairly protracted, his fingers rubbing repeatedly up and down my shaft as it sat nestled in my briefs, but I was still quite certain it was an accident, despite how unlikely that seemed on some level, so I didn’t raise any objection.

Vicente assured me that we’d do more work on that in the future, since it was vital to helping me relax, but he understood that having a male therapist working in that area could be a little disconcerting at first. He encouraged me not to give it another thought, knowing that he would only continue his work when I felt completely comfortable with it.

And while we were talking about my comfort anyway, he reassured me that after he woke me up, I’d be perfectly comfortable with where I was and that I’d have no complaints about anything at all. In fact, I was so comfortable, I could really just forget everything since he’d told me to go to sleep for him. Knowing that that was impossible, I just let his suggestion slide over me, then opened my eyes.

“Well, that’s it for today”, Vicente informed me, once again sitting astride my crotch, his fingers doodling random designs around my pecs. I wasn’t terribly impressed with where he was sitting considering that I’d asked him not to sit there again, but I didn’t bother to ask him to move or even to stop massaging my chest. He knew how I felt about it already, though in truth, it wasn’t half as bad this time as it had been the first time despite the fact that I was only in my underwear this time. Even the way he ran his fingers over my chest and around my nipples was surprisingly comfortable…even enjoyable on some level.

“I think you’ll find that your shoulder is quite a bit more bearable now. If it gives you any trouble before our appointment in a week, though, feel free to give me a call. For that matter, if you find anything bothering you—anything at all—give me a call!”, he told me with a provocative wink as he angled himself off my waist and stood up.

I knew a come-on when I heard one and frowned at him in distaste as I also stood up from his bed, adjusting the semi I had so it sat more comfortably in my underwear. “Thanks, but no thanks!”, I replied, looking around his bedroom in disgust. The bed I’d just been lying on was covered in dried cum stains and there was gay paraphernalia everywhere—not just rainbows and flags, but dildos, handcuffs, a collar, and a few things that I didn’t know exactly what they were, but at least some of them looked like you could probably stick your cock in them. Despite how I felt, I remained silent. I wasn’t sure what else I could really have expected, given that we were in his bedroom, and it seemed petty for me to complain about anything.

“So, you don’t need to see me tomorrow?”, I asked, feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t.

“I don’t think so, but like I said, if anything’s bothering you at all, let me know.” This time, he said it without the wink, his face and tone indicating that he meant it seriously.

“Will do”, I assured him.

The two of us went downstairs after that, and I got dressed again, pausing momentarily to check if Vicente wanted me for anything. I had a vague memory of starting to put my shirt on once before, and then doing something for him before actually getting it all the way on, but it was all very foggy. He didn’t seem to need anything this time, though, so I got fully dressed and headed for the door.

“Oh, one last thing before you go, Matt. I wanted to apologize if you felt I was hitting on you earlier. I didn’t mean anything by it”, he assured me, massaging the large, gently curving bar in his pants. “I’m really looking forward to the next time you come over.”

“Hey, no worries”, I told him easily, my eyes continually drawn back to his crotch by the movement of his hand, despite how hard I tried to focus solely on his face. Why did my eyes keep wanting to look down at what he was doing? There was nothing of interest there beyond the fact that he had a hard-on, and even that was barely worth noticing. Forcing my eyes up to his face, I continued. “You’re hardly the first gay guy to find me a bit distracting. I won’t lie, I really don’t care for it, but you’ve remained professional otherwise, so I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He started rubbing himself with his hand more vigorously as I spoke, but having disciplined myself to ignore the movement already, I turned to head out to the car.

When I got home and the boys asked about why I was so late, I told them that Vicente had fit me in for a little extra work, since my shoulder had been bothering me today. I didn’t get into much detail, though, since I barely remembered anything that had happened. At first, that didn’t bother me all that much, but as I lay in bed and tried to go to sleep later that night, the strangeness of the entire evening really started to hit me. I lay awake for quite some time thinking about it, ultimately resolving to call him tomorrow to discuss it. He’d been very professional so far, so once I’d made the decision to call him, I was able to dismiss the bizarre holes in my memory and go to sleep.

Vicente was a bit evasive when I called him the next day, suggesting that perhaps I could stop by his office over lunch and he’d explain it. I had to admit, the way he’d dodged the issue was a bit troubling, but I still felt pretty good about him overall, so I let him get away with it for the moment. Besides, it just seemed polite that I go see him, since he’d asked me to. I had a vague image of him standing in front of me, wanting to put his hand on my head. We’d done that at some point yesterday, I was sure, though for the life of me, I couldn’t think of when or even why. It was something about sleeping. There was a lot of weirdness going on here! I did my best to keep my mind on watching the traffic, though.

I felt a bit nervous when I showed up at his office over my lunch break, mostly because of how many things just didn’t make sense about him. It sort of creeped me out. He did his best to make me feel comfortable, though, greeting me warmly and inviting me into his office. Settling into a chair, I tossed my cap on his desk, so he’d have easy access to my forehead if he needed it.

I explained all the various things that were troubling me, openly letting him see my confusion and the distrust it was all creating. The more I talked, the worse it all got as the strangeness really became concrete. Hell, even coming in here today, I’d been concerned that he should have easy access to my forehead. What the hell was that about? I added it to the list of creepy things I was telling him.

“Yes, I can see why that might all be fairly troubling for you. I’m glad you came to me with it”, he said, standing up in front of me. His crotch was beginning to bulge a little, but I paid it no attention, far more worried about what was going on here. I felt a sense of familiarity as he reached his hand towards my head, planting his thumb right in the middle of my forehead. That was one mystery solved, at least. Despite how odd it was for him to do that, I’d clearly been right that he might want to put his thumb on my forehead. Except I still had no idea what it was about. “Sleep for me”, he ordered, which is exactly what I did.

We didn’t have a whole lot of time, but we talked briefly about how odd it was that I couldn’t remember most of what had happened yesterday, and I really began to feel more comfortable with it. He actually admitted to me that he’d hypnotized me as part of my therapy and then suggested that I forget what had happened. That explained quite a bit, but it also made me feel very panicky, despite how relaxed I was at the moment. I just wanted to tell him to shut up, then get the hell out of there as soon as I could!

I didn’t need to tell him how I felt, though. He’d clearly been looking for a reaction and as soon as he saw me getting antsy, he encouraged me to listen to his voice and relax, taking me down deeper. I even felt his thumb massaging my forehead as he told me to sleep for him, even though I already was, encouraging me to remember just how much that made me relax for him every time he did it.

It worked reasonably well but not perfectly, and when he woke me up to see how I felt about it consciously, I admitted that I still felt fairly edgy about everything. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I was sure now that he’d hypnotized me during our last therapy session. I told him that while I understood that he hadn’t meant anything by it, I really felt like he should have asked before putting me under. He reassured me that it was a technique he only ever used on a few of his clients to help them relax and de-stress if he felt they really needed it. It was entirely therapeutic and nothing that I should be worried about.

His reassurances helped, but I was still a bit mistrustful. He asked me to sleep for him once more, which I now realized was him putting me under, but for the life of me, I still couldn’t stop him from doing it—I didn’t even want to, really.

As I relaxed, I remembered his conscious reassurances, which he repeated to me now as well. He was only using hypnosis as part of my therapy to help me relax and deal with any stress I might be feeling. It was nothing to worry about. Deep breath in, deep breath out, relax and go deeper.

Vicente went a different direction after that, reminding me of our session yesterday in his bedroom. I’d been hypnotized then and enjoyed it thoroughly. I’d not only allowed him to massage me all over, I’d gotten slightly aroused from it some of the time, even though I wasn’t consciously aware of it. I could feel like that again if I wanted it to. Hypnosis could make me feel aroused without me even being aware what was causing it. I felt Vicente’s hand lightly rubbing the length of my cock as he talked about it, and I had to admit that that, at least, felt very good! He seemed to know just how to touch a guy to turn him on. He actually said that the more he talked about hypnotizing me, the better his hand would feel. Somewhere deep down, I realized he’d said that before, and I was beginning to think he was right.

I got fully hard as we continued discussing him hypnotizing me, not objecting to Vicente’s touch at all. The more aroused I got, the more I liked the idea of being hypnotized. By the same token, thinking or talking about being hypnotized would make me harder—at least when I was somewhere private—and I knew that I would never actually realize that it was the idea of being hypnotized that was turning me on. Once Vicente was done talking with me about how I felt about hypnosis, I knew he was going to ask me to forget our entire discussion, though I couldn’t really say how I knew. I was comfortable with forgetting for him now, though, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than the memories started to fade.

I was stiff as a board when I woke up and I had no clue what we’d done since I arrived, but that was okay. I didn’t really want Vicente seeing me the way I was, though, so I made an excuse and quickly left his office, grabbing my police cap off his desk and holding it casually at my waist to hide my little issue.

“I was going to wait until next week before seeing you again, but I think you could use a bit more work, Matt”, Vicente informed me. “Book another appointment sometime in the next few days”, he instructed.

I nodded and turned to leave, careful about where my cap was positioned, since I was still quite hard. I was glad I’d done so, especially since Vicente’s receptionist and another client both looked in my direction when I walked out. Because of my little problem, I ignored the receptionist completely as I headed for the squad car, despite Vicente telling me to book another appointment. I’d call her later in the day instead.

Having spent almost my entire lunch break with Vicente, I stopped by a takeout restaurant to grab a quick lunch on my way back to the split. I’d have to eat in the car as I watched for speeders this afternoon. On a whim, I decided to change spots, picking a secluded, tree-lined laneway not far from my regular location. Although there was a certain benefit to openly checking people’s speed, it was usually best for a speed trap not to be spotted by anyone until it was too late. The spot I’d chosen for the moment wouldn’t let me see traffic much better than they could see me, though. It was lousy as a speed trap, but that wasn’t exactly my priority right now. Since I’d left Vicente’s office, I’d been thinking about our appointment almost constantly. I’d gotten things under control, if barely, before I’d gone into the restaurant, but I was back at full wood now, my lunch at least temporarily forgotten.

Once I was parked and had assured myself that nobody was likely to see me, I whipped open my uniform trousers and pushed down my briefs, thinking about my lunchtime appointment with Vicente. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. While I’d started with only three fingers tentatively sliding my foreskin up and down, it wasn’t long before I was rubbing myself manically, frantic to get off. Why in the hell was I so turned on? Vicente’s receptionist had certainly been good looking, but she wasn’t that good looking, and my thoughts mostly centered on the man himself. That made it even weirder, since I was quite straight, but instead of bothering me, the weirdness of it all only turned me on even more.

Despite the fact that I was still going lefty, it took only a couple of minutes before I spurted all over my stomach. Wiping it up quickly with some of the napkins from my lunch, I zipped and buttoned everything back up. I could still feel a bit of residual cum on my stomach and oozing out of my cock, but I’d done the best I could with what I had. Feeling satisfied, at least for the moment, I grabbed my food and started to eat as I drove out of my hiding spot. With it now being well after when I’d planned to eat lunch, I was fucking starving!

While I was eating, my mind wandered. I kept thinking about how evasive Vicente had been this morning and why he’d encouraged me to forget everything when he’d hypnotized me yesterday…and again today, I suddenly realized, since I remembered very little of what I’d said to him at lunch. It didn’t really bother me that he’d had me forget, since I knew he only used hypnosis for therapeutic purposes, but for whatever reason, my mind just kept bouncing back and forth between Vicente’s evasiveness and him making me forget everything. There was something very strange going on here. In fact, I realized, this wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. It was, however, the first time that I’d liked the thought. Eagerly, I called his office to book my next appointment.

I was a bit distracted for the remainder of the day and only managed to nab two drivers in the entire afternoon despite moving to a yet another location. By the time I got home, I’d largely put it out of my mind, spending a very enjoyable evening at home with the boys. As soon as I started getting ready for bed, though, I found myself focussing once again on Vicente having hypnotized me. Now that the boys weren’t distracting me from it, that was pretty much all I could think about.

I was quite hard by the time I hit the sack and I reached into my boxers to get to work almost the moment I was lying down. I didn’t often cum twice in a day unless I was really horny, but this was definitely one of those days! It took longer this time, and there was a rather disturbing few seconds where I had the fleeting impression of a man other than myself rubbing my cock, probably just because I still wasn’t entirely used to jerking off with my left hand. Overall, it was the most fun I’d had masturbating in quite some time, discounting the frenzied and all too short jack-off session I’d gotten into earlier today.

To my surprise, the twice-a-day masturbation schedule continued for the entire week, and while none of them were as frenzied as that one time, they were all highly satisfying. For the most part, the pattern remained once in the car, once at night, but there were exceptions. Probably the most notable one was the day I pulled someone over only to discover when I checked the licence plate that it was Vicente himself. Like so many other drivers, he’d come racing into the split at near-highway speed, completely ignoring the two posted reductions in speed limit as well as a warning of an upcoming speed limit change.

After I’d flashed my lights at him, he pulled off onto the side of the road. “Hey Vicente. Licence, registration, and proof of insurance, please”, I asked as he rolled down his window.

“Oh, hey, Matt! I’m glad it’s you. Listen, this close to the highway isn’t exactly the best place for this. Can we just backtrack a little to one of the dirt roads and do this there? It’s probably safer for you”, he suggested.

He was certainly right, and many drivers in his situation would’ve continued on into a parking lot just inside the city limits once I’d flashed them, but the farming roads weren’t an unusual choice when I pulled people over who were heading the other direction. I hadn’t really been thinking about that when Vicente suggested the farmers’ roads, but they were completely in the other direction from the way we were facing. I shook my head when Vicente pulled a U-turn at the lights. He’d made sure it was safe, as did I when I followed his example, but U-turns were completely illegal in Saskatchewan unless signage said otherwise, which was rare. Now, he’d added another thing that I would need to ticket him for.

He drove right past the first farmers’ lane and pulled off at the lane I now regularly used to jack off. Once we were between the copses of trees, Vicente pulled over.

“Okay, let’s try this again”, I smiled at him very slightly as I approached his vehicle. “Licence, registration, and proof of insurance, please!”

“Sure thing, Matt, but before we get to that, can you just bend over for me and bring your head closer to the window?”, he requested.

Yeah, right, bend over for him. Between the words and the fact that he’d told me the other day that he was a total top, it didn’t take a lot to figure out what was on his mind! Still, he needed to be able to touch my forehead whenever he felt like it, so it wasn’t an unreasonable request. After a quick double-check that there was nobody else on the road, I leaned down, bringing my head closer to the window.

“Sleep for me”, he ordered, reaching his hand through the window to touch my forehead as soon as it was close enough. “Now, stand up and open your eyes, staring off into the distance and admiring the view”, he continued.

It was weird opening my eyes again. Just moments before, everything had seemed normal. Now, it was overly bright, and it felt like I was dreaming. Everything seemed strange. It was a nice view, though.

“That’s good, Matt. Now, just keep staring straight ahead, listening only to the sound of my voice. It feels so wonderful just standing there and relaxing, listening to the suggestions I’m giving you. There’s really nothing else you need to do right now but stand there, admiring the view and relaxing very deeply, always going deeper with each word I say.”

Even when Vicente started lightly stroking my cock through my uniform, the only thing I could really do was to admire the view and listen to his voice. He had such relaxing voice! I could feel him repositioning my cock and running his fingers up each side, stroking me to full hardness as the two of us stood there by the side of the road. A part of me wondered just why I was standing there staring, but it felt like too much effort to do anything else, so I just kept admiring the scenery. Vicente’s hands felt surprisingly nice, too.

“You don’t need to issue me a ticket, Matt”, Vicente told me at one point as he continued stroking my cock. “Instead, when I snap my fingers, you’re going to watch me drive off, then go back to your car, remembering only that you pulled me over for speeding and then let me go for no apparent reason, despite intending to give me a ticket. Do what comes naturally after that, Matt!”, Vicente encouraged me. He then tried to suggest that I should forget everything he’d said since we’d pulled over, which was just about the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard.

“See you tomorrow, Matt!”, Vicente said as he rolled up his window.

I stood there watching him as he did a three-point turn to head back out to the highway. Why had I let him go? I’d pulled him over for speeding—I was sure of that much—and I thought there’d been something else, too. Yet, I also knew that there was no need to write him a ticket. I’d just gone to his car, then told him he was free to go. The whole incident was totally freaking me out! As soon as I thought about that, though, it dawned on me that I had a raging hard-on and I returned to the cruiser to take care of it. The way Vicente kept doing these really strange things was creepy as all hell, but at the same time, I loved it! It turned me on so much that things like this kept happening around him.

I wasn’t turned on by Vicente himself, of course—quite the opposite, men turned me right off, especially gay men—but just the whole weirdness factor of it made me hard as a rock. Just to prove the point, I fantasized about Vicente’s receptionist, especially walking by her several days ago with a spontaneous erection as I’d left Vicente’s office. That entire incident really turned me on.

The next day, I never got around to my usual ejaculation in the cruiser. I just wasn’t in the mood for it, though I expected that would make tonight’s scheduled masturbation all the more enjoyable. I was rather embarrassed when I showed up at Vicente’s office for my off-schedule therapy session, since I’d had him in my fantasies in one way or another for the last several days, but I didn’t tell him that. Why I was fantasizing about him, I really couldn’t say, especially given how much he creeped me out sometimes. I’d heard that people could bond with doctors and the like because of how much those people made them feel better, but I didn’t think that’s what was happening here. I couldn’t deny that Vicente’s physiotherapy had been good for me because my right arm was starting to loosen up enough that I could use it for at least part of my masturbating once again. Everything else about him, though, was totally fucked up. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever feel any kind of closeness to him just for making my shoulder feel better.

Vicente and I talked for a little while as he got to work massaging me, and I mentioned once again how odd it was that I’d gone to his office the other day at lunch, yet he’d never explained anything to me at all. For that matter, he hadn’t even accounted for the fact that he’d been evasive. I got hard while I was talking to him about it, so I rested my hands inconspicuously over my erection to prevent him from seeing it …at least, I hoped he couldn’t see it.

“Does it bother you that I haven’t explained myself to you?”, Vicente replied to my question as he continued his work on my shoulder.

“In a way, yes, but not really. It’s more…”, I flushed, at a loss for words, “…ummm…let’s go with ‘intriguing’”, I finished awkwardly.

“Do you have an erection right now, Matt?”, he asked me simply, clearly looking towards my midsection to see for himself.

“Fuck off, fag! That’s none of your business!”, I bellowed, though I kind of sputtered at the end as I remembered that I was the one who’d had him in my fantasies for nearly a week now.

“Sleep for me”, Vicente requested as I felt one of his fingers touch my forehead.

“You’re getting to be a very good subject, Matt. There are a number of things I’d like to go over with you this time, and I think it’ll go much faster if you don’t pay attention to what I’m saying consciously. Just let my words sink into your subconscious, paying no attention to them at all”, Vicente told me.

As usual, I had no memory of what had happened while I was under, though at least this time, I knew that I’d been hypnotized. It felt different somehow, though…deeper, stronger. One thing that had obviously happened while I was under was that my pants were now wide open, leaving my erection on display for anyone who wanted to see it, which quite clearly included Vicente.

“You were saying?”, Vicente prompted, coming around to stand in front of me with a mocking grin on his face. Not unusually, he had an erection in his pants, though I gave it no thought after I’d first noticed it.

“I was saying that it’s none of your business if I have an erection, and you’re a fucking creep for opening my pants while I was under just so you could get a look”, I retorted.

“Actually, Matt, the fact that you have an erection is nothing you need to worry about. Remember, I only use hypnosis for therapeutic uses. The reason you’re showing it to me right now is because I’ll be massaging it later on as part of the full-body massage”, he insisted.

“Yeah, right! If you think I’m gonna let you rub my cock under the pretense of it being a massage, you’ve got another thing coming!”, I informed him.

“It’s ‘think’, actually, but this is hardly the time for grammar lessons”, he smiled at me with that mocking grin of his.

“What?”, I exclaimed in exasperation.

“It’s ‘you’ve got another think coming’”, he repeated, expanding the full phrase.

“Fuck off!”, I swore. A creep and a grammar nerd. Lovely! “Like you said, fa— uh…Vicente, now is not the time for grammar lessons.” Oddly, I seemed to have forgotten the word I’d been going to use, but his name served just as well. “My point was, you are not going to be rubbing my cock, regardless of how you want to pass off what you’re doing.”

Vicente smirked, stroking his erection through his pants. “Matt, look at me. Look straight into my eyes and see the truth of what I’m telling you. As a professional, the only reason I will ever touch your cock is as part of your therapy, whenever I think you need it to help you relax and relieve stress.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes, I couldn’t deny what he was saying. He really was being a professional, and he would only touch my cock for therapeutic purposes. I felt like I’d already known that subconsciously but hearing him say it out loud really confirmed how I felt. As I came to terms with that fact, Vicente reached down the front of his pants to start massaging his erection directly, but as usual, I paid no attention to it.

“Getting back to the subject of me being evasive and creepy, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, if I were you. I think you’ll find that a lot of things just sort of happen from now on that make no sense, but you won’t really mind. You may even find them arousing. Your shoulder is coming along quite nicely now, so I intend to focus on the hypnosis aspect a bit more than the physiotherapy. Look into my eyes once more, Matt”, Vicente instructed.

It was almost as instinctive for me to do that as it was to let him touch my forehead, and my eyes were locked with his before I even realized that there was something unusual about me doing that. I relaxed as he continued, feeling almost at home staring straight at him. It felt so comfortable to stare at him, even if it was a bit strange that he’d ordered me to.

“I’ll be hypnotizing you regularly now, Matt, and as much as you enjoy it already, it’s only going to become more enjoyable in the future. Each and every time I hypnotize you, or even mention hypnosis, you will become more aroused by it. No matter how much I hypnotize you, even after your shoulder is fully healed, you will remain certain that I’m only using it for your therapy. You don’t need to worry about me doing anything weird with it. Even if I do something that seems really creepy, you will remain perfectly calm, confident that it’s something to do with your therapy”, he finished. He’d really driven home how therapeutic hypnosis was when he did it, and staring him in the eyes, I couldn’t deny what he was saying…nor could I deny how turned on I was. The whole time he’d been talking about hypnotizing me, I’d been oozing precum down my cock and into my pubic hair.

“Now then, I think I did enough work on your shoulder while you were under, so the next thing is the full body massage I mentioned. Would you mind standing up and taking the rest of your clothes off for me, Matt? I’d like you stark naked, so I can touch you anywhere I want to.”

Hesitantly, I stood up and did as he’d asked. As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew that this was entirely for my benefit. His wording left something to be desired, making it sound like he was just going to grope me anywhere he felt like it, but I knew that’s not what this was about.

“Would it bother you if I got naked, too?”, he asked.

“Hell yes, it would bother me! I suppose, if you want to take your shirt off, that’s fine, but keep your cock in your pants, Vicente. I don’t need to see that shit!”, I informed him. I watched as he stripped completely anyway, including his boxers, his hand now stroking his cock directly. The fact that he was hard was the only thing keeping me from being completely disgusted with him.

“There, is this okay?”, he asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine”, I admitted, somewhat creeped out at seeing him completely naked. Despite how fucked up this was, I knew it must be part of my therapy in some way. “I know you’re naked, despite me telling you not to, but I can ignore it when you have an erection because it’s almost like it’s not even there. I don’t think I could do that if you were soft. So, just make sure you keep that thing hard! I don’t ever want to see you naked and soft while you’re my physiotherapist”, I insisted.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem”, he laughed. “Now, stand up and let me play with your cock, Matt…you know, for therapeutic purposes.” I hated how he worded it, but I could hardly argue with him on that point. The entire reason I was here was for therapy, and that’s exactly what I knew he was doing.

I stood there patiently as he stroked my cock up and down, rubbing his thumb over the head frequently, as well as cupping my balls in his other hand and squeezing them lightly.

“Aren’t you going to massage anything else?”, I asked after he’d been working in that area for a good ten minutes or so.

“I wasn’t really planning on it for today, no. I know where you need massaged the most. It’s best to let me decide what to work on.”

I supposed he was right. I was a little freaked out when he started working on my neck and my nipples with his mouth rather than his hands, which made it seem a lot more sensual, but he knew best, I supposed. I started getting fidgety after he’d been at it for a few minutes, but Vicente was very attentive to my therapeutic needs and had me lie down on a massage table as he massaged my forehead and asked me to sleep for him.

I felt significantly better when I woke up again and let him finish his therapy in peace. He moved his head away from my body when I warned him that I was about to cum, continuing to massage my cock with his hand, despite what I’d told him, and grinning at me salaciously when I spewed all over my stomach and chest. I felt bad about cumming during therapy, but I hadn’t been able to resist. There was something really fucked up with everything going on here, and even though I wasn’t sure what it was, it was turning me on like I’d never been turned on before!

“You’re coming along very nicely, Matt”, Vicente complimented me warmly as I put my clothes back on. “I’d really like to start giving you treatments at my place from now on. How would that make you feel?”

“I dunno. I know you’re a professional and all, but there were a few things about going to your place that one time that kind of weirded me out”, I admitted. Granted, a lot of what he did seemed very disturbing to me, but despite that fact, I knew it was therapeutic, so I let it slide. Getting my physiotherapy at his place, especially given many of the things I’d seen there, wasn’t an experience I was eager to repeat.

“Well, it would all be in the name of therapy, in the end”, he reminded me. It was more reassuring when he said it than it was when I just thought about it myself. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come over after work on Friday night and you can tell me exactly what bothers you about my place. As part of your therapy, I’ll hypnotize you to be more accepting of it, and we can go from there. Does that work?”, he asked.

“Yeah, okay, that makes a lot of sense!”, I agreed. For some reason, my dick throbbed when he suggested hypnotizing me, and I had a strong urge to let him do whatever he thought appropriate. “What about the boys, though? They’re bound to wonder what I’m up to. I don’t go out all that often, to be honest.”

“Tell them I’m starting a regular card game on Friday nights”, Vicente suggested. “That’ll give me plenty of opportunity to hypnotize you those nights, and then we can have your regular therapy sessions at my place on Tuesday afternoons as well. It’ll have to be shorter than Fridays, but you can probably just let the boys think that they’re still happening at my office, and any lateness can be explained away by telling them that we often chat afterwards or go out for drinks. I’m sure you’ll find some creative ways to explain your absence.”

“I really don’t like lying to the boys”, I replied, concerned about what he was suggesting.

“Come here for a sec, Matt”, he ordered, beating himself off at a good speed as I approached. Briefly taking his hand off his cock, he held my head steady, his thumb touching the middle of my forehead. I felt a little ill at the thought that the hand that had just been touching his cock was now on my head, but there was no way I was going to refuse him, no matter where his hand had been. My concerns faded completely the moment he started speaking again. “Sleep for me.”

Opening my eyes once he was done, I realized that I wouldn’t really be lying to the boys after all, at least not about anything that mattered. Sure, there’d be a few little white lies, but it was all in the name of therapy in the end, which would be for their benefit as much as my own, when you got right down to it. The sooner they had a father who was fully functional again, the better. When I thought about it that way, coming up with creative reasons for why I was spending time with Vicente didn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

When I got home that night, I told the boys that Vicente had invited me to join his poker game on Friday nights, so I’d probably be spending those nights out a lot from now on. To my surprise, rather than asking me more about it, the boys actually encouraged it. They apparently thought I’d been a little lacking in the social department lately, especially when it came to dating, and asked if there’d be any women there.

“Why do you think I want to go?”, I asked suggestively. Technically speaking, I hadn’t even lied. A little misdirection wouldn’t hurt, and they clearly approved of me going over to Vicente’s regularly under that pretext.

“Oh, while I’m thinking of it, I wanted to get a pic with the two of you to post on Instagram. You guys have both been really considerate these last few weeks with helping around the house and with all the chores and such that I haven’t been able to do. I’m very proud of you for having done so much.” The two of them rolled their eyes, and I knew it seemed like a Dad thing to them, but I really wanted a picture of the three of us together. While I was at it, I took a picture of each of them separately since I didn’t have anything recent on my account. They had a few on theirs, of course, but most of it was them goofing off or doing random things that didn’t really make tremendously good close-ups. Once we were done, I posted the new pics and approved Vicente’s request to follow me.

The following Friday was an absolute blast! Since we didn’t really have to spend time working on my shoulder on Fridays, we were able to focus primarily on the hypnotic therapy, as Vicente had suggested.

As promised, he took me on a tour of his home, asking me about things that I found disturbing or weird in any way. The first thing I noticed that seemed rather odd was that not only was his house absolutely pristine this time, it was his own receptionist that was doing the cleaning! She left shortly after I arrived, though. Thinking back to how his bedroom had looked, I knew instinctively that there was more going on, which Vicente admitted to me openly when I asked him about it. He apparently hypnotized her to clean his entire house from top to bottom on Fridays—including the sex toys and cum-stained sheets—and to think nothing of it. It was just a regular part of her job as far as she was concerned. If that whole scenario wasn’t creepy, nothing was, and I told him as much!

I wasn’t even remotely surprised when he put me under, and just as he’d promised, I woke up with a hard-on and the realization that if that was something they’d agreed to—which it obviously was now that Vicente had hypnotized her to want to do it—there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. Hell, remembering the look of placid contentment on her face when I’d first arrived, I felt certain that she’d not only agreed to it, but that she really enjoyed it!

Even allowing that she cleaned for him, though, I had to inform him that his place was awfully gay and asked why he didn’t just make it like a normal person’s. “Leaving aside the sex toys all over your bedroom, you’ve got rainbow flags and pink frilly things and pictures of Judy Garland and Madonna all over the freaking place!” I hadn’t noticed most of that the other day, but I’d been a bit out of it at the time. “Then, there’s those god-awful pictures of naked, submissive young guys. Most of them are a good ten years your junior, and some look like they’re barely legal! You should be ashamed of yourself!”, I ranted.

Once again, I found my opinions changing, almost without me even noticing. A quick tap on the forehead and I soon found myself thinking that his home wasn’t stereotypically homosexual at all, but rather that it was tastefully decorated. The artistic nudes were just that, of course: artistic! I wasn’t at all bothered by the fact that Vicente had a moderate preference for younger guys. Hell, even if I disapproved, I knew straight guys that were into girls that age, and I felt somewhat ashamed that I’d let it bother me more just because Vicente was gay. How many times had I heard about guys leaving their wives to run off with some eighteen-year-old girl they’d met on a business trip or their much-younger secretaries or whatever? Vicente wasn’t unusual in that sense at all.

The ones I’d found most disturbing, where the guys had cum on their tongues or dildos up their asses—ones that weren’t visible from the entrance or kitchen but were plastered all over the rest of his house—went from disgusting to intriguing. I couldn’t quite say I appreciated them, but at least I didn’t let them bother me, and I could discuss the artistic merits of each, the pattern of cum, the amount of hair on the guy’s ass, whatever. It was absolutely fantastic, and I was really happy that Vicente was talking me through my issues. Despite the fact that we weren’t really getting into massage as much today, I felt his hand on my cock several times as we walked around, which I had no objections to, of course. It was very relaxing and helped keep me in the right state of mind. I couldn’t even remember when I’d gotten naked, but I’d been naked around Vicente before. It was entirely therapeutic, so I didn’t let it trouble me.

Then, we got to the bedroom. While it was much cleaner at the moment than it had been, I knew it wouldn’t still be this way by Tuesday, so I went over the things that had disturbed me about it the last time I’d been here. As I spoke about the various sex toys, Vicente fished around and pulled several of them out, since they’d been put away during cleaning. They really freaked me out at first, but by the time we were done, Vicente had taken me through each one, either explaining what it was for or, especially for the masturbation toys, showing me on his own cock how they worked. Sometimes, it seemed I couldn’t look away and I’d spend several minutes watching him use a particular toy.

After we were done, the two of us settled on his bed while Vicente continued stroking his cock using one of the masturbation toys he’d shown me—a bulbous thing with a hollow, ribbed cylinder down the center that you stuck your cock into. At first, Vicente kept the ribbed part over his head, his face rapt with pleasure, but then he squirted some more lube on and started rubbing the thing up and down the entire length of his shaft.

It was actually kind of strange watching him, since I largely ignored his erection itself, and yet, as focussed as I was on the toy, I couldn’t help but see his cock at the same time. After a couple of minutes, I laughed at myself and explained how I was feeling. We talked about it briefly, and Vicente admitted that having me largely ignore his arousal was kind of turning him off a bit…that he’d much rather that I get comfortable staring at his thick, hard cock. Reaching a lube-covered hand up to my head, he told me to sleep for him.

When I opened my eyes again, he’d taken the toy off and I found it very easy to look straight at genitals. I was surprised at how comfortable it was for me to be watching another guy masturbate. It wasn’t just comfortable, I realized, he looked good doing it! It wasn’t like I thought he was attractive or anything, but there was something aesthetically pleasing about the shape of his cock and balls. They were both slightly darker than the rest of his skin, which accented his appearance in much the same way as a piece of jewellery might. His cock was clearly longer than mine, curving gently to the right, but what really struck me about it was just how thick it was—it looked like a small cucumber! I sure was glad I wasn’t one of his bottoms. That thing must’ve been a literal pain in the ass.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here watching you do this!”, I chuckled after he’d been going at it for a good ten minutes or more.

“Hypnosis is good for that!”, he replied with a sly grin.

“I have to admit, I’m kind of wondering how this fits into my therapy”, I told him.

“Look at me for a second, Matt?”, Vicente requested. I complied, as always. “Remember, this is all about your therapy, and it’s not unusual to be hypnotized to do strange things that make no sense. I know you enjoy it when I do things like that, so just sit back and relax.”

“Of course, of course”, I agreed, wondering why I’d even brought it up. I’d known for a while now that hypnosis was a key part of my therapy, and it was all the more important to be hypnotized if I felt concerned by something Vicente was doing. If I was being honest with myself, I was getting a bit turned on by how cringey this whole situation was, especially when he lay back on his bed and started getting serious about his masturbating. I was totally grossed out watching another man cum, and I shuddered and turned away until Vicente asked me to face him and move my head closer to him. I knew what was coming, of course, and I was even eager for it to happen. Despite the cum on his hands, I sat still as Vicente slimed my forehead and told me to sleep for him.

I actually found myself playing with the bits of cold cum remaining on his stomach when I woke up. It reminded me of finger-painting when I’d been a kid. I avoided going anywhere near his cock, of course, but there was plenty of cum to smear all over his stomach and chest. After a minute, he rolled over, letting his sheets soak up his cum before turning back to face me. I knew those cum stains would still be there on Tuesday and I hoped he’d let me lie on his bed again like he had the last time. The idea of lying on cum-stained sheets was both disgusting and kinky, and I looked forward to the contradiction of being simultaneously revolted and turned on by it.

I damn near jumped out of my skin when I felt his hand wrap around my cock out of the blue. “Therapy”, he reminded me succinctly, which settled me down slightly, but he still had to get me to look into his eyes and remind me more firmly that this really was just therapy and that I should calm down and just do what he asked.

Once he started speaking, I relaxed quickly. I’d already known everything he’d said, both consciously and subconsciously, and I felt a little embarrassed that he’d had to remind me of it. He’d had his hand on my cock several times before, of course, he’d just taken me by surprise this time because of how absorbed I’d been with playing around in his cum. It struck me as funny that I was letting him stroke my cock regularly now, as if it was nothing, yet if he’d asked me to stroke it myself while he watched, I would’ve had a hard time with it and probably outright refused him.

Things got even better when he took the same bulbous sex toy that he’d been using on himself and slid it down onto my cock. He even started stroking me with it. I was a bit squeamish at first about the fact that it had just been touching his cock and even had some cum inside of it, but that went away quickly. Even though it was a toy instead of his hand, he was ultimately still stroking my cock as usual, so I ignored how creeped out I felt and let him do it.

I came faster than I thought I would despite the fact that his hand, with or without the toy, didn’t feel as good as even my left hand did, much less my right. He just didn’t have the right rhythm. The more I thought about the fact that I was letting another guy masturbate me, the more turned on I got. Deep down, I knew that this was all part of my therapy, so I tried not to think of it as Vicente masturbating me. Still, it was creepy-hot imagining that he actually was. It was so hot, in fact, that it made me cum before he was done. Unfortunately, that meant that he kept going even after I’d cum, making me buck and squirm with how sensitive my head was.

“Do you have a cloth or something?”, I asked once he stopped and I settled down. He might smear his cum all over his own sheets, but I certainly wasn’t about to do so.

“What for?”, he asked, though his face said he knew already. “Sleep for me, Matt.”

Once again, when I woke up, I was once again playing with cum, only this time it was my own. I spread it over my chest, stomach, and sides as much as I could, but unlike what he’d done, I chose to let it dry there. It tickled as it dried, yet I was so focused on how it made me feel to have cum spread all over my body that the tickling sensation didn’t bother me all that much.

“So, how did you get into all this physiotherapy and hypnosis and so on?”, I called to him from his bathroom as I started washing all the toys we’d been using. I figured it was only fair for me to do it since he’d been kind enough to demonstrate all of them and even let me use the one. “A lot of kids grow up thinking that they want to be cops or doctors or pilots, but I don’t know too many kids who grow up thinking they want to be physiotherapists or hypnotists.”

“It all comes from my father, actually, though each comes from a different aspect of him”, he said. I could see him tentatively giving his softening cock a few tugs from across the hall in the bedroom. Even soft, it was beautiful. I don’t know why I’d ever told him I didn’t want to see it that way. Washing the sex toys was just about the grossest thing I’d ever done, but I found it helped if I focused on what Vicente was saying rather than on what I was doing.

“Ever since I was a small child, my dad had lower back problems. He went through a couple of therapists before he found one that worked for him. Mom also tried to help by massaging his back when she could, but she wasn’t trained for it. As I got into my teens, Dad sometimes pressed me into service when his back was acting up, and while I wasn’t as good at it as the therapist he was with at the time, I was better at it than Mom was and, more importantly, better than some of his previous therapists had been. I wasn’t bad in school, but that was the first time that I’d ever had a notable talent in my life, where I was better at it naturally than people who’d trained for it. So, that was what got me interested in that.

“As for the hypnosis, that was Dad too, but probably not in any way you might be thinking”, he smirked. “Shortly after I entered puberty, Dad took over doing some of the laundry from Mom. I didn’t really put those two things together at the time, of course. Fast forward to a few years later and Dad blows up at me one day, raging about how disgusting I am and how I should’ve clued in by now that it’s a filthy habit and so on. Of course, he never actually said what it was he was talking about, and I was being a bit clueless. When he spelled it out for me, I felt ashamed, but also confused and pissed off. The thing that gave me so much pleasure was something I was told I shouldn’t be doing!

“Over time, I realized that I didn’t get any complaints if I left no evidence. Dad hadn’t been very coherent that one time, so one day, I summoned up the courage and asked him if it was bad that I was masturbating at all, or just that I’d been staining the sheets. He obviously thought I was an idiot that he even had to explain it, but to my surprise, he said it was the sheets that were the problem. ‘How can you not see that for yourself?’, he’d asked me, going on for a while after that about how it should have been obvious and so on.

“Already by then, I was showing some early signs of enjoying when I was in charge and getting to tell people what to do, and I’d kind of read a few things about hypnosis, but I hadn’t really thought about actually hypnotizing someone all that much until then. I knew hypnosis turned me on, but so did a lot of other things at that point. Anyway, it occurred to me to wonder if I could get Dad to change his mind, cuz I’d always enjoyed just falling asleep after I came, and since that often involved lying in pools of my own cum, I just kind of developed a liking for that too over time. Well, apart from the crusty sheets, anyway. Somehow, I just never put it together that Dad would, of course, realize what was causing that. I know, stupid, but I was pretty oblivious as a teen.

“So, I started really looking into it. The internet was still pretty new at that point, but I found what I could online, and a good bit of stuff in the library. I practiced scripts in the mirror, then tried changing them up to react to imaginary situations, cuz I realized quickly that almost no script I’d found was perfect, and it made sense that I’d have to be able to adapt them, possibly even on the fly.

“Next time Dad had a backache, I put my newfound knowledge into practice. At first, I just used hypnosis to help him relax. Then, when I was confident that it was really working, I tried getting him to forget what had happened this one time. And it worked!

“So, next, I started telling him that he should be happy when he saw my cum stains. They were signs that I was becoming a man and enjoying what it was to be a man. After I’d done that a couple of times, I experimentally left a couple of stains on my sheets for him to find. I didn’t hear anything from him. So, the next week, I put some more down. Again, I didn’t hear anything. After that, I started cumming as much as I wanted, even going a little nuts at first and jerking off a bunch of times because of how excited I was that I could apparently masturbate in bed whenever I wanted to now.

“One of those first few weeks that I had really crusty sheets, I walked in on Dad just looking at the stains on my sheets, even though it wasn’t laundry day yet. He didn’t even say anything to me. He just pantomimed jerking off, then gave me a thumbs up with a broad grin on his face and walked out.” I could see that Vicente was starting to get hard again. Even the memory of having that kind of power over his father was obviously turning him on.

“Not too long after that, Mom took over cleaning my sheets again, though I’d only hypnotized her to ignore it all…to think it was nothing unusual. Then, one day when she told me to clean my room, like all moms do, I hypnotized her to do it instead. She was a stay-at-home mother anyway, so it just made sense to me at that age that she should do it.” He’d gone a bit limp again as he spoke. “Since then, I’ve mostly had women who had too much time on their hands clean my room or my house. Misogyny, sexism…call it what you want—having grown up with it, I’ve always thought that a woman’s place was at home. I think that’s why it’s so much more exciting to me to dominate men. Well, that and I’m pretty sure I would’ve turned out gay even if I’d never found out about hypnosis at all”, he laughed. “Sometimes, it’s fun to hypnotize men to clean stuff too, mind you, especially straight guys. They can be so prissy about cleaning things like sex toys.”

“Wow! You are one creepy motherfucker!”, I told him, though as creepy as his recollections were, I enjoyed hearing about the people he’d hypnotized. “And hypnotizing straight guys to clean your sex toys? Seriously? That’s fucked up! I’m sure as hell glad you’re only using it on me for our therapy sessions or I’d be worried!”, I laughed as I looked down at what I was doing. I took a moment to reassure myself that I was only cleaning his toys off out of politeness since he’d demonstrated them for me. I noticed he was back to full hardness and stroking himself now. Like so many other things, I had no idea how anything we were doing related to fixing my shoulder, but I knew it did.

“As I got into my later teens and joined the gay community”, he continued once he’d finished instructing me where his toys went and I’d settled down on his bed again, “I hypnotized my parents to be comfortable with me bringing guys home, cuz they were pretty much raging homophobes back then. It didn’t take me long to realize, though, that bringing guys home was going to be a bit of a challenge. I wasn’t exactly the hottest guy around, it seemed. Guys online, who just saw my cock, or at least saw that along with my other pics, they seemed to like me plenty, but almost everyone who only saw my face wouldn’t give me the time of day. There were a few who did find me attractive, of course, but I quickly came to realize that those weren’t the guys I wanted. I didn’t want them to want to have sex with me, I wanted to make them want to have sex with me—to have guys who had turned me down begging to suck me off or have me fuck them. I actually started liking it when hot guys showed no interest in me, and I tried to figure out ways I could hypnotize them. My plans even succeeded with some, which was how I got my first couple of boyfriends.

“The boyfriend experience quickly wore on me, though. I didn’t really want a relationship like that, and I still don’t. What I want are slaveboys at my beck and call. Making gay guys want my cock was all too easy, since a lot of them are size queens to begin with. I wanted someone who wasn’t attracted to my face, wasn’t attracted to my cock…someone who wasn’t interested in me in any way! Even better if they were actively repulsed by me. So, that’s when I started playing around with hypnotizing straight guys. I especially love doing it to judgemental or homophobic guys, which is at least partly why I’m attracted more to the younger crowd—not that older guys are entirely immune to it, of course”, he smiled at me.

“So, why don’t you have a bunch of straight slaveboys already? From what you’ve said, you’ve been doing this sort of thing for…I’m gonna guess about fifteen or twenty years now, from the looks of you. I would’ve thought you could have it all by now. Hell, hypnotize a rich boy and you could even quit your job”, I suggested.

“Oh, I’ve had it—a few times now, in fact—but I get bored with my conquests after a while. Usually, I keep at least one on until I have a new one lined up, but a couple of people started noticing odd behaviour in the last guy, so I dumped him a bit earlier than normal.

“Rich boys are fun too, you’re right, but most of them have too many minders. A couple of the ones I’ve had over the years still send me some generous Christmas presents, but that’s about as far as it goes. I really don’t mind my job anyway. I’m fairly talented at physiotherapy, and it lets me get my hands on some pretty nice guys sometimes. Occasionally, I even manage to hypnotize them”, he smirked. He was obviously referring to me, but I was confident that he was only using it for therapy and stress relief with me, so I had no complaints.

Vicente decided I needed a bit more of a massage still, so I lay down and relaxed in the cold cum he’d left on the bed as he rubbed my legs, balls, cock, and nipples.

Towards the end, at his urging, I bent my legs as close to my shoulders as I could get them and let him massage my butt cheeks for a while, becoming increasingly concerned as his fingers strayed closer to my asshole over time. He reminded me that this was all for therapeutic purposes, though, and I relaxed once again even as he started massaging my ass crack itself. He kept at it for a good ten minutes or so, each movement of his hands relaxing me more and more. With him being gay, I was worried he might take liberties and try to stick a finger or two in me, but he kept it strictly professional, which I was very grateful for. I got dressed and headed back home after Vicente put me to sleep one final time, then told me that I could go. It really had been a fantastic evening!

When I got home after stopping at a restaurant for a late dinner, only my youngest, Ethan, was still awake. I didn’t let it show on my face, but I felt a smile forming inside as I stood there speaking with him, remembering that underneath all my clothes, I was still covered in my own dried cum and a tiny bit of Vicente’s. I felt proud of the fact that I was covered in cum, like that was what made me a man to other men. It wasn’t the same thing Vicente had described, but I’d apparently taken some of what he’d said on board and made it my own.

“Is Sean in bed already?”, I asked Ethan.

“Yeah, he said he wasn’t feeling that great, so he took some cold medication and went to bed about an hour ago.

“Bed sounds like a good plan, actually. Fun night, but I’m surprisingly tired now!”, I told Ethan. He was a bit of a night owl, so it wasn’t entirely unusual that I went to bed before him, though even for me, it was a bit early. I wasn’t sure why I was so tired, considering that I’d actually spent a good part of the night in a therapeutic trance, but I really was zonked! “I’ll just check on your brother quickly, then head for bed myself, I think. Good night!”, I said, giving him a quick kiss on the top of his head.

Creeping into Sean’s room by the light of my phone, I found him fast asleep. Putting my hand on his forehead, I could tell immediately that he was running a bit of a fever, though it didn’t seem like anything too terrible. He didn’t react to the light or my voice, nor had he reacted to me feeling his forehead. He must’ve taken the night-time medication and it had knocked him out. Since I had my phone out anyway, I quickly turned off the fake shutter sound and then snapped a picture of Sean sleeping. Carefully, I peeled his blanket back, watching closely for any reaction, but he was totally out! Pulling the camera back a bit, I took another picture of him as he lay there dressed only in his boxer shorts, then two close-ups, one of his chest and one of his mid-section. Once I’d finished with that, I pulled the blanket all the way up to his neck and tucked him in, giving him a quick goodnight kiss on his forehead…ironically in about the same place as Vicente used to put me to sleep.

When I got back to my room, I sent the pics I’d just taken to Vicente. “I know you like younger guys”, I wrote, “so I thought you might appreciate these. This is my oldest, Sean. He’s sick tonight and was totally out of it, so he doesn’t even know I took these. I’ll try and get you some candids of Ethan too if the opportunity ever presents itself. Enjoy!”

As I lay in bed afterwards, I started to feel really disturbed as I thought about what I had just done. It made my cock twitch, slowly getting harder the longer I thought about how fucked up it was that I’d just taken pics of my all-but-naked son and sent them to a gay guy for his enjoyment. I felt so bad about it that I actually called Vicente and asked him to delete the e-mail without opening it. I honestly didn’t know what had made me do that. At the time, it had seemed like an innocent little thing I could do for Vicente, but now, it felt vile.

When I explained the situation to him, though, Vicente calmed me right down. “Just put your finger on your forehead for me for a minute, Matt”, he requested. I was puzzled at what he was asking, since the only thing I knew of to do with my forehead was when he put his hand there and told me to sleep for him. “Are you touching it?”, he asked.

“Yes”, I replied.

“Good, now imagine that it’s me doing that. Really imagine it. In your head, I want you to picture me doing that to you and hold that image in your mind as strongly as you can.” He paused for a moment. “Now, sleep for me, Matt.” Keeping in exactly the same position, the phone held to my ear, I lay in bed, calmly listening to Vicente’s voice.

I felt fantastic about sending him those pics of Sean now that I’d spoken with him about it, and I wanted to send him even more. Especially if I had the chance to get some of either him or Ethan without them knowing it, I knew Vicente would happily accept them. From a certain perspective, I supposed it might be seen as creepy that I was sending pics of my teenage and twenty-year-old sons to some gay guy who’d probably masturbate while looking at them, but I felt pretty good about it. It was just a really nice thing to do for Vicente.

Remembering back to how great it had felt when he’d been massaging my ass earlier, I put the phone back on my nightstand and reached down, duplicating what Vicente had done to me as closely as I could recall. I’d only been at it for a few minutes when I decided I needed to go even further.

Fishing around in the top drawer of my nightstand, I found the petroleum jelly I kept for those times when I was really horny, but my penis was dry or irritated. Amused by how differently I’d felt when I was worried that Vicente might do this very same thing, I started spreading the jelly liberally around my butthole, quickly taking the plunge, figuratively and literally, and planting my middle finger as deep inside my ass as I could get it while my right hand very gingerly got to work on my already-hard dick. Despite having cum only a couple of hours before, if that, I came again in no time, happily spreading both that and the petroleum jelly all over my body before I rolled over and went to sleep. Just as I was nodding off, it occurred to me that this was the first time since I’d injured it that I’d masturbated entirely with my right hand. Clearly, the therapy sessions were helping!

Spreading my cum around and fingering my butt both quickly became habits for me. The more often I did it, the more I loved the feeling of being around the boys or the guys at the station, knowing that I was secretly covered in my own cum. Some nights, I’d come home with Vicente’s cum on me in addition to my own. It was especially amusing to me talking to the boys at times like that, since I knew Vicente had been thinking of them as he’d been spewing his cum on me in the first place.

After a couple of times of having Vicente massage my cock to help me relax during our sessions, I started to feel bad that he was only ever doing that to me and I wasn’t doing it for him. Granted, he was the physiotherapist, but still, it seemed rude to not at least offer.

“Hey, Vicente, I was just thinking, should I be reciprocating on these types of massages?”, I asked one Friday night as he started stroking my cock, my gaze making it obvious what I meant. “I mean, I don’t really know the protocol here. Is this like tipping your hairdresser, where it’s sort of expected, but not everyone realizes it? I hope I haven’t been rude!”

“It’s not uncommon”, he informed me. “It’s certainly not required, but I wouldn’t say no to it.”

“Oh, damn! I’m so sorry! All this time and I never even thought to ask. You do know I’m straight, though, right? I don’t know how I’m going to feel about stroking another guy’s cock”, I warned him.

“That’s okay, Matt. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. Like I said, it’s not unusual for even straight guys to reciprocate a little, but you don’t have to. Why don’t you give it a try, and if you don’t like it, you can stop”, he offered. “I can assure you that it won’t affect my services in any way.”

While my shoulder was still a bit tender, it was almost back to normal now and easily usable for masturbating as long as I paced myself, so I reached over very tentatively with my right hand, pausing and blushing as I got close to Vicente’s oversized penis. “Look at me, Matt. It’s okay to touch my cock. There’s no need to be shy”, he assured me as I stared into his relaxing yet commanding eyes. Deep down, I’d already known that I could touch his cock—that I would touch his cock—he’d just reminded me of it. Comforted by his reaffirmation that it was okay, my hand crossed that last couple of centimeters, and I grabbed the wooden bat he called a dick.

I froze for a moment, not quite sure what to make of everything. It felt very weird having another guy’s cock in my hand, yet there was something undeniably enjoyable to the sensation as well. Vicente smiled at me encouragingly, his hand continuing smoothly on my own cock the whole time. After another shy blush, I tentatively started stroking him.

I got the shock of my life at that point because it actually felt good! I was sure it wasn’t quite as enjoyable for me as it was for him, but the fact that it was enjoyable for me at all came as a total surprise. I’d expected it to be something I did for him mechanically, just to be polite. By the time I’d been stroking his cock for a couple of minutes, I was enjoying it thoroughly and I was completely unselfconscious about it. I even started experimenting a little to see what he enjoyed most.

After another couple of minutes, Vicente stopped massaging my cock and just sat back to enjoy what I was doing to him. To my renewed surprise, I honestly didn’t mind, so I just kept going on him. Taking my time, I worked him up, going ever so slightly faster as he started to get into it. As usual, Vicente’s phone was nearby, and after he was confident that I was enjoying myself, he picked it up to find some fantasy material.

Despite the fact that he was pretty much ignoring me, I kept going. There was something seriously fucked up about masturbating a gay guy while he ignored me completely. Hell, if I knew him, he was probably fantasizing about fucking my sons right now. How creepy was that? It turned me on to no end and made me want to keep going. I loved doing disturbing shit like this!

“Did you want that on your bed?”, I asked him after he’d cum all over his stomach, some of it getting on my hand.

“Naw, not this time. You can have it if you want”, he offered. I just beamed in delight as I started to scoop up his cum and smear it all over my chest and stomach. I let him doze as I played, though he only stayed that way for a few minutes.

After Vicente had put me to sleep again, I lay down on his bed and let him massage my ass. Now that I’d been sticking my own fingers in it for a while, I had no objection to him doing it at all, and I told him he was welcome to finger me as part of my therapy massages anytime he wanted. He really stretched the hell out of it as I massaged my cock. It made the orgasm that much more intense once I’d gotten to that point, no doubt aided by the fact that Vicente had discovered my prostate and was abusing it with a certain amount of glee. As usual, I smeared my cum all over and Vicente wiped most of the lube from his hands onto my stomach. I just took everything and smeared and smeared. With his cum not yet dry and me adding my own, I was covered in a very thin layer of cum and lube pretty much from my shoulders down to my waist.

“Fantastic night, as always!”, I thanked him as I left later that evening. “Oh, be on the lookout for some nice pics of Ethan tomorrow. I have a plan!”, I winked.

“I’ll keep my cock at the ready, then”, he told me lewdly. God, he was such a pervert!

As promised, I put my plan into action the next day. While I’d gotten a couple of shots of both Sean and Ethan around the house over the past couple of weeks, I hadn’t gotten anything all that good when it came to Ethan. It was always from a distance, or blurry, or whatever else. So, when he hopped into the shower that afternoon, I waited until I heard him put on his music—he’d done that since he was a kid, to relieve the boredom of showering—then developed an urgent need to do the laundry. Knocking on the bathroom door quickly, I let myself in. We were fairly casual about that sort of thing around our house. It’s not like we were nudists or anything, but if you needed something in the bathroom when someone was in there, or if you were naked and needed to grab something from another room, none of us would bat an eye. That was how I’d been brought up, and I’d done the same with the boys.

“Hey, Ethan”, I called over his music, to make sure he’d heard me come in. “I didn’t realize you were about to shower, or I would’ve come sooner. I’m just doing laundry and I wanted to put the towels in. I’ll bring you some new ones in just a sec”, I informed him, hiding my phone underneath the towels, then pointing it towards him to grab a pic. The shower curtain was opaque, showing only the blurriest of outlines, but some people liked shower pics.

“Oh, okay. Guess I’ll stay and enjoy the nice, hot shower for a bit longer, then”, he replied.

After I put the laundry on, I grabbed some replacement towels, then picked up my phone and started talking into it as if I’d received a call. It took several minutes, but eventually, Ethan came out, looking for something to dry himself off with. “Okay, thanks for letting me know. Talk to you later”, I said, tapping the phone as though I was hanging it up, then switching to the camera app quickly, doing my best to look like I was fiddling with something.

“Sorry about that, Ethan, that was work!” Handing him the towels, I leaned against the doorframe to Sean’s bedroom, holding my phone casually in that hand. I checked the position quickly, pretending something had caught my eye in Sean’s room, adjusting it ever so slightly until I was sure the camera was clear of the door frame and had line of sight to Ethan. Explaining to him what the fake call had supposedly been about, I managed to get several frontal pictures of him holding his towel and drying off a little, then a few more as he grabbed the rest of the towels from me and turned to go back into the bathroom.

Glancing over them quickly before I sent them all to Vicente, some of them were blurred because he’d still been cavorting around and a few had the so-called “good bits” out of frame or blocked by a towel, but there were still three with a clear enough view of Ethan’s cock, as well as one slightly blurry one from the side as he turned, and a couple of his butt.

“Jackpot!”, Vicente texted me back after I sent them. “I’ll go enjoy those right away!”, he added in another message with eggplant emojis on either side of the text. He never came right out and said thank you but knowing how much he was enjoying them was thanks enough for me.

It was the beginning of summer by the time the physical part of my therapy was completely finished. That meant that I’d have to stop seeing Vicente on Tuesdays, unfortunately, but we still had our “card games” on Friday nights so that Vicente could continue the hypnotic part of my therapy. It was off the record, since hypnosis wasn’t approved for treating muscle injuries, but I knew I’d still need to be hypnotized for a long time to come, no matter what medical authorities thought. With the physical part of the therapy done with, Vicente largely stopped massaging me, but I continued to massage him regularly. At first, I only stroked his cock with my hand, but he made me feel so good the few times he massaged me that I felt I should be doing something more. At his suggestion, I started massaging him with my tongue as well as my hands. That made me feel better, especially once I started massaging his whole body with my tongue—particularly his cock and his ass. I still felt like I wasn’t doing enough, but at least it wasn’t as bad as when I was only massaging him with my hands.

After giving it some thought, I approached Sergeant Hunt about the possibility of taking a lengthy vacation before I came back to Major Crimes. I’d been hoping for four weeks, but after double-checking with the captain, he could only offer me three. Oh well, it would have to do. Once I had confirmation of that, though, I gave the boys’ mother a call.

Carol had been a bad idea from the start, though I’d been too young to understand that at the time. I’d met her early in my career, back when I really had been a traffic cop, and I’d pulled her over only to find marijuana in the car. She’d put on the charm and fluffed up the girls well enough to affect my judgement, and a few months later, I found myself proposing to her, convinced that I could reform her. That lasted only a few years before I filed for divorce after she was arrested for possession. I was a decorated police officer who’d made a bad decision, while she was in jail on various narcotics charges, so I was given full custody. She’d tried to get at least joint custody over the years, but the best she’d ever managed was supervised visitation.

Sean had been old enough at the time to remember what his mother had been like and had only begrudgingly ever spent time with her. Ethan, on the other hand, had always been more of a mama’s boy, which had gotten us into a few shouting matches over the years when he wanted to see her outside of the usual days. A few times, when she’d been in jail again, he’d even snuck off to visit her there despite my express objections. Now that she seemed to be doing better, and he was old enough that the custody agreement no longer applied, Ethan had resorted to simply informing me when he was going to go see her and not allowing me a say at all.

So, naturally, for me to call Carol myself was an event of some note. She had no idea what to make of me straight-up suggesting that she spend some time with Ethan while I was away. As I pointed out to her, though, this vacation was about getting some me-time, and I wasn’t going to be around anyway, so it just kind of made sense to suggest that the two of them get together for at least some of the time I was away. I was reasonably certain that even Ethan wouldn’t want to spend the entire three weeks at his mother’s, so I suggested that I could drop him off at her place on my way past, since I was planning on driving across the country anyway, then they could figure out between them when he wanted to come back.

While Sean was far from a loner, he’d probably appreciate the time with nobody else in the house anyway, since it was so rare. There was every chance he’d throw a party that I was supposed to pretend I wasn’t aware of, but just to be sure he didn’t let things get too far out of hand, I’d ask Vicente to look in on him from time to time while I was away—both of them whenever Ethan got back. I was a lot less worried about Ethan, since he was the one people normally thought of as “the good brother”, but Sean could be a bad influence sometimes. I’d feel a lot better if I knew there was someone more responsible keeping an eye on them.

Mind control
Wanking material
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