Page 3 of Choosing Hope
I tilt my head to glance at my doctor. I’d guess she’s in her early to mid-forties. Not unattractive. Her hairstyle is unflattering; scraped up into a tight bun, giving a severe appearance that is too much for her pretty, delicate features.
She’s wearing a soft satin blouse and a pencil skirt. Dr. Klein is professional with a hint of sexy. She’s not appealing to me. I don’t fuck older women. But if I were fifteen years older, it wouldn’t be difficult to understand why one of her patients became attracted to her.
She has an air of something alluring about her; she’s confident without being brazen. Her blouse buttons are open from the top of her cleavage, offering a vague hint of the swell of her chest without being tarty. She’s comfortable enough in her own skin for me to relax a little about talking to her.
A friend of mine, Brendon James, recommended her to me. He runs a charity, The James Trust, which helps families who for whatever reason, have fallen into difficulties. I’ve known Brendon for five or six years, since I first started supporting his worthy cause.
To test how my doctor copes with my next snippet of information, I dive headlong into one of my friend Carlo’s first sexual experiences.
“When we were seventeen, Dad caught Carlo fucking the home help. We expected him to go ballistic. He didn’t. He slapped Carlo on the back as if he’d just found a cure for cancer.”
I remember the faint smugness that crept over my friend’s handsome face when my dad caught him.
“That must have been embarrassing for Carlo, not to mention his companion,” Dr. Klein points out.
I snigger at her remark.
“Nah, Carlo doesn’t get embarrassed. He was furious though when I admitted Dad was fucking her too.” I grin in a roguish manner recalling the moment I told Carlo that he’d just dipped his wick in the family porridge.
“That amused you?”
“I was just recalling the conversation I had with him afterward,” I explain, my lips still stretched wide.
She tilts her head as if she needs to listen harder.
“He complained he wouldn’t have touched her if he’d known. Which made me laugh at him; it wasn’t often I got one over on Carlo. I explained that that’s precisely why I didn’t tell him. He rushed toward me with a determined expression. At first, I thought he was going to hit me, but he didn’t. He stood inches from me and in a deep husky voice murmured,‘You really enjoy watching me that much?’”
I chuckle darkly. Even now, recalling that moment makes my cock twitch in my trousers. Dr. Klein gives me a moment; perhaps sensing my heightened state of arousal.
“That wasn’t the only time you’d seen Carlo sexually active?” She asks, her voice is softer than before, as if she doesn’t want to disturb my flow of memories.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the snapshot of memories that I’ve cataloged over the years of him with other women, including my wife, Sophie.
“Do you remember the beginning of this attraction?”
My mind drifts back to the frigid January day when Carlo found me tucked up in my bed masturbating in our shared room in boarding school.
During the final two years of boarding school, the older boys were always relocated into two-bedroom apartments. They were much nicer than the dorms we’d previously lived in. Carlo and I shared a bedroom, and our friends, Rupert and Travis, had the other room in our apartment. We all shared a bathroom.
Unlike Carlo, I was still a virgin. My friend’s ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude gave him the confidence to find sexual opportunities where I’d never have seen them. Which makes him sound promiscuous; he’d only had sex twice before I lost my virginity, once with the cleaner at school, and the second time with my parent’s maid.
He lost his virginity two days before his seventeenth birthday in November. I was so envious of Carlo’s ability to charm our hot cleaner out of her panties.
At the start of the following term, in January, Travis smuggled a couple of girlie mags into school that he’d stolen from his dad.
You’ve never seen a more well-thumbed mag. Fuck me, some women on those pages were the stuff of my dreams.
When he gave it to me, he warned me that if I got caught by the schoolmasters, it didn’t come from him. We had various hiding places, but for this I used the space below a loose floorboard under my bed. My plan was foolproof. What I didn’t cater for was what happened when my best mate caught me with it.
I waited until he was playing squash with Rupert, but for some unknown reason, the boys came back early.
The rules forbade door locks, and Carlo walked in right at the penultimate moment; I was too close. Nothing could have made me stop. Not even when Carlo dragged the sheet off me, revealing my nudity. He saw my ejaculation burst from my body.
Afterward, followed several seconds of silence.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“Don’t take the piss, Carlo I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, trying to get off my bed, intending to clean myself up.
