Stroking the Male - Segment X

“Are you hungry? How was your therapy session?” sister Susan politely attempts to make conversation as she pops a waiting dinner plate into the microwave.

 Randy is quiet... glum... and certainly hungry. Mrs. Boughton emptied him... of all.

“Yes... I’d... I’d like to eat,” Randy’s voice so meek

“Coming right up. Melanie enjoyed this, I hope you will as well. One of those new microwave dinners.”

“Can I change first?”

“No. It’s late. Melanie is already well into her homework. And you have to study too. Mrs. Breckenridge spent a lot of time with you this afternoon. Were you a good boy for her?” Susan smiling with the thought of any boy displaying disobedience with the experienced disciplinarian.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Ma’am? That’s new, Susan thinks to herself... and an improvement.

“So she had you use your bowl?” Susan assuring that Randy had packed it as Mrs. Breckenridge instructed.

Susan finds herself smiling with Randy’s silence, well aware of the operant conditioning Mrs. Breckenridge is conducting, the bowl just one element of the masturbation ritual. Such cleverness... the straight backed chair... the scent of bacon... the awkward pose assumed in sitting on a woman’s bare thighs... all leading to that which the male normally so much covets... ejaculation.

The microwave beeps. Susan removes a warmed plate and places it on the table before Randy. She sits opposite, leaning forth as a famished Randy partakes. She’ll not let Randy avoid the subject matter, however delicate.

“And how is your penis?” speaking sotto voce in concern for Melanie. “You can tell me. I understand. I’ve taken care of you for many years... all of you.”

“It’s very sore, Miss Susan.”

Miss Susan? And only after the first therapy session. This is working, Susan excitedly realizes.

“So she had you fill your bowl again. Did you enjoy that? Being pleasured without all that... those magazines?”

Randy takes a forkful, chewing in thought... in reluctance. The afternoon was so... cathartic... perhaps traumatic, but for the fact he was emptied of his seed... a need that had built greatly since his Saturday encounter. 

“Well... my stuff was there.”

“So she let you see it? Do you enjoy that? It’s such nasty stuff Randy.”

“I guess I did... but not really.”

“More steel wool?” Susan bluntly inquires.

“Yes.”

“Well after you’ve eaten, we’ve have a look. You’ll need to apply ointment. You must be very sore indeed.”