Stroking the Male - Segment I

This is somewhat soft, but I think fun.

Enjoy,

CB

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Stroking the Male

Copyright 2015

by Chris Bellows

March 2005

Susan Partland begins the day’s drudgery in the bedroom of her young sister, Melanie. She strips the bed, tossing the sheets into the hall, dusts, vacuums... her otherwise acuminous mind turning to a blank slate.

A promising career in micro biology ended with the tragic auto death of her parents... an icy road, a curve too sharp. Graduate studies curtailed, Susan is now guardian, governess and unfortunately housemaid for her younger siblings, sister Melanie and brother Randy... both in school and only with each other... no other relatives to relieve Susan of the stress and responsibility forced to be borne by young shoulders.

Life insurance proceeds have mitigated financial concerns. Sizable trust funds assure a degree of financial security. And some day, Susan will resume her academic pursuits and hopefully a challenging career will follow.

But such thoughts only serve to frustrate, Melanie and Randy years away from caring for themselves. And Randy! The restlessness of puberty has begun. Moodiness... devilish pranks... bickering with Melanie... defiance of Susan’s command... all add to the many burdens.

Melanie’s room made presentable, Susan moves to Randy’s room. It is the mess she expects, Randy consistently forgetting that Friday is house cleaning day and that every Thursday evening of study is to end with tidying up... some effort to make Susan’s tasks easier.

It is not to be.

Susan picks up dirty clothing, tossing into the hall with the weeks laundering then begins stripping the bed, noting the stained, encrusted sheets, her training in biology bringing recognition, brother Randy engaging furtively in self pleasure.

Alas, what is this? A glossy magazine slips from under the mattress. Pornography!

Susan smiles to herself, aware of the eidetic needs of the male mind when it comes to sexual stimulus. Yet, when she politely begins to return the photographic filth to its not so secretive nest, her maternal shrug turns to concern.

The nakedness does not shock... but the nature of it does. The depictions are of women yes... but dressed... and most authoritatively. It is the male who is naked... scene after scene of capitulation! Bondage!

Susan need not read the brief narrations. Enough!

A hand, quivering in both anger and shock, slips the evidence of brother Randy’s penchant beneath the mattress. Dusting and vacuuming now become cathartic, distracting from the timeless question Susan frequently asks of herself... what would Mom do?          

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The house made spotless, there are no further chores to divert Susan’s thoughts from the appall of brother Randy’s newly found habit... hopefully newly found. Yes, a corollary question to... ‘what’s this all about?’.. is... ‘how long have you been looking at this smut?’

Should she confront Randy with the inadvertently found evidence of his sexual prompts?

With her education in biology came many courses in psychology... aberrant psychology included. To confront Randy would be most humiliating for him... older sister, now maternal figure, scraping the veneer of rectitude by brandishing the filth before him... indeed demanding answers to her questions.

But what of Melanie? Too young to be exposed to such licentiousness, Susan would need to carefully choose the proper time and place for discussion deemed parental... and discreet. And indeed, can she assume the role. Ten years her brother’s senior... can she successfully assume the role of stern admonishing parent?  

Then Susan’s racing mind returns to the conception of the chagrin a young Randy would endure with the envisioned confrontation. Deep within is it something he craves? Would a rebuking lecture further stoke the fire of quirkiness rather than quench it?

Susan concludes help is needed... more input. And the need is to be confidential.

She makes tea, her charges not expected home from school for hours. She can calm herself, think. And she has of late found relaxation on the internet... a sea of information always available for navigation.

She fires the computer, Googles some key words... ‘female domination of the male’. Not as solitudinous an undertaking as she has imagined. She reads... informative articles... avoiding the prevalent smut, so readily available. In so doing she begins to speculate on Randy’s time on line... much alleged academic research... yet mediocre grades resulting.

The hot tea, the acquired knowledge, mollifies Susan’s disquiet. Perhaps Randy’s proclivity can serve to suppress the otherwise annoying comportment of pubescence.    

To Craig’s List... services... therapeutic... the many massage offerings titillate and amuse. She tries some key word searches. ‘Masturbation’ brings a litany of listings. But one is found to be relevant.

‘Mature woman of authority offering therapy for male masturbation addiction’.

Susan excogitates. Washing weekly Randy’s stained sheets, she has assumed that for her brother the prevalent rite of passage for young males has been a sporadic past time. Could it instead be an addiction? Could the encrusted sheets be the results of many nightly eruptions... that this morning’s evidence is only the tip of an iceberg? The Google search brought a barrage of material... and Randy spends much time before the computer.

Craig’s List offers the anonymity she desires... for now. Susan types a reply, vaguely describing herself, her family situation, and her concern over brother Randy’s ‘habit’. A ‘Dear Abby’ letter, more prurient and explicit than those published. In cutting and pasting the Craig’s list reply address, she presses send, sits back and a draws a long sip of soothing orange tea. There is solace in being able to share an additional burden... one unexpected... and one in which she has such limited experience.