Twisted Vegas

A groan leaves the man's lips as his cock slides farther down his lover's throat. Fingers tangle into the messy hair coaxing the partner off his member.

"I don't want to cum in your mouth."

Their eyes meet. A nod of understanding bobs the second person's head. The sultry smile that graces those lips almost had the man weak in the knees.

"Where do you want to cum?" The lover questions nipping his ear lobe.

The man growls in response. His other half trembles at the sound. It had always been a huge turn on.

"Climb on the bed get on your hands and knees." All the man receives is a look.

"Don't make me say it again." He threatens.

Obedient as ever the man does as told, the bed creeks as it holds up the weight. Wasting little time the man grabs the bottle off the night stand. Opening it he squirts some onto his dick then aims the bottle coating the man's back entrance. The lid to the bottle is closed and the bottle tossed aside.

Anticipation built up as the waiting slowly drove the lover on the bed crazy. Without warning the bed along with their bodies jerk forward as the man slammed in entirely.

Each moaned at the feelings coursing through them. In all their lives neither had ever had a sexual partner rile them up or turn them on as much as they were each other.

Climaxes hit hard causing the pair to collapse on the bed. It was clear that this would be the best sex both would ever have. The man picked hid head up. Leaning down he presses his lips to his partner's. The partner doesn't hesitate to kiss back with every fiber of their being.

They pull apart gasping for air.

"I love you."

"I love you too..."

The man climbed into the cold shower.

At first he thought it was just a fucked up dream. He came to realize the more it played on each night that the details were just too clear to be a dream.

No, it wasn't a dream at all, it was his memory of that night. Try as he might he found the more he relived that night the more he couldn't control his reaction. This angered him most of all.

Each night he'd wake to find his cock so hard that he could barely breathe because all the blood rushed from his head to his lower half. Every part of him rooted in lust screamed at him to relieve himself.

It was the same always. He would force the beast back down, climb out of bed then get into an ice cold shower not leaving until his problem was completely washed away.

This was slowly eating him alive. He knew no good would come if he mentioned this to anyone. How could this be happening? He found himself asking a lot. All he wanted to do was to go back in time to erase all of this or wake up to find that it was a dream like he originally thought from the first night.

He knew if he didn't do something soon he would loose all sanity. The last thing he wanted was to tell his friends and family. Obviously not talking about it wasn't doing any good.

Walking down stairs the man grabbed a phone book. Not knowing any other options he flips to the section marked therapists. His eyes slowly scan the page. His finger stops next to a random name.

Taking a deep breath he picks up the telephone. Punching the numbers in he brings the phone up to his ear. A receptionist answers after the third ring.

"Hello thank you for calling the office of..."

"Hello I'd like to make an appointment." The man says cutting the woman off.

"Okay I need your information." The man rattles off all the info the woman requires.

"Alright we'll see you Monday at 5 o'clock." With that the man hangs up the phone.

Monday came quick. The man walked into the office. The receptionist shows him to the therapist's office.

Notes