Exclusive Excerpt from Confessions of a Gay Curmudgeon
by Andy V. Ambrose
Thursday: Dr. S Is A Sex Maniac
“Oh, Doctor. A blowjob at an orgy! Is that liberation or frustration? And now I’m worried about disease too! How did I let myself… I can’t believe it!” I was blubbering to Dr. S about my little adventure at the sex party the other night. “Doctor, that’s not me,” I continued. “At least I didn’t think it was me before then.”
“Did you like it?”
What was this? Dr. S talking so early in the session?
“Yes, but… I didn’t want to like it. I mean, it happened so suddenly.”
“So, you think I really wanted that blowjob?”
“I—I did like it when Gio used to give me blowjobs. He was really good at it.” I blushed. One of the few times I’ve talked about sex in here. Been coming a year, and it’s still not easy for me.
Of course, Dr. S loves it when I talk about sex. Practically creams in his pants, I’m sure. I can tell, because he doesn’t move a muscle when sex comes up. Becomes still, almost afraid to take a breath. Talk about getting his undivided attention. My other woes? Yeah, yeah, he’s the sympathetic therapist, but I’d hear him shifting a leg, coughing, even unwrapping a candy when I talk about the other stuff.
But sex? That’s his thing, baby, big time. Okay, we all need to get our jollies one way or the other. And maybe that’s Dr. S’s. But maybe I’m just not ready to spill all of my guts yet. Or maybe I am, but—But what? I’m scared, aren’t I? Why? Because I let that little runt Bert blow me at the sex party? Big deal. A million guys are probably getting blown this very second and nothing’s happening to them. A million? More like a billion if you include China and India. They have blowjobs there, don’t they?
I do that a lot, think about all these crazy things when I’m lying on Dr. S’s couch. Like today. I was trying to think of how many blowjobs are going on in India and China at any given moment while I’m spilling my emotional guts on the couch. Probably a way of avoiding something deeper.
“What’s on your mind?” Dr. S finally asked, probably impatient with my silence since I was still thinking about those Chinese and Indian blowjobs.
Caught again. “Okay, well, I was just thinking how much I miss Gio,” I lied. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. Thinking about blowjobs in China and India got me reminiscing about Gio’s blowjobs again.
“Oh, ah, right. Gio. I—well, I was thinking about sex with Gio.”
There. I said it. And yup, Dr. S tensed up. No breath. No movement. Nothing. All I had to do is say the magic word, S-E-X.
Is that all he cares about? It’s not all about sex, is it? I started talking about Gio’s personality, and smile, and wit, and how warm it felt when he hugged me.
Dr. S shifted in his chair. Ah-hah. He was getting bored already.
“Relationships are complicated, aren’t they?” I said, still trying to move away from the S word. “I mean, Gio and I loved each other. At least I think we did. Of course, what do I know about love? I didn’t come out until late. I was a good Catholic boy, remember? The nuns in the school where I went didn’t talk about love and romance. That should be a requirement in schools, don’t you think, Doctor? Some discussion of love?”
Dr. S was really squirming in his chair now. And coughing. I was just waiting for the candy unwrapping to start.
“So that’s why it was great when Gio used to fuck the shit out of me! Man, his big cock inside me made up for all those Catholic moments!”
If I could only say that. It would wake Dr. S up, wouldn’t it?