Therapy

DISCLAIMER:

This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between two men.

If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your own site, please contact the author for permission.

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Copyright 2017 jaywizetoo, All rights reserved.

Please contact me at jaywizetoo@gmail.com if you like. I welcome all feedback.

"Dude, is that piss?"

I looked over from the weight bench I'd been using and saw a twenty-something guy, muscles on top of muscles, in an AC/DC tank top sitting a few feet away and doing arm curls.

"What?"

"The bottle." tank top gestured with his chin to the clear bottle beneath my bench. "Is that seriously piss in there?"

The guy was cute; scruffy and tanned in that non-fake way athletes have of looking permanently sun kissed. Probably not the brightest wick in the candelabra, though. His brows were furrowed, his white teeth exposed in an expression of confusion.

"Why would you ask that," I replied.

"Dude, I smelled it when you took a swig a minute ago; looks right on the money to me. I mean, whatever blows your skirt up, man. It's none of my business; I was just curious. Be the first time I've seen something like that in a gym and not Pornhub or some shit. That's all I'm sayin'."

He looked at the bottle, then back up at my face. "So, is it?"

"Look," I answered, "I'm not looking for any trouble. Yeah, it's piss. It's part of some therapy I'm doing. It's eastern, ok?"

Tank top looked relieved. "Oh, ok. Like Chinese stuff, right? Medicine? Shark fin powder and shit?"

"Something like that, yeah."

An awkward silence followed. Both of us kept working out. Just to prove I was on the up-and-up, I reached down and lifted the bottle, popping the lid off and swallowing several large gulps of my Psychiatrist's piss. I felt tank top's eyes on me as I did. I glanced over again and he was shaking his head in wonderment.

"That's just jacked up, man." He laughed, and continued his set. I laughed with him.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

I finished my own set a few minutes later and, grabbing the half-full bottle, I headed off to the cardio room upstairs to spend some time cooling down.

All in all, it could have been worse, I thought. Thanks to my quick thinking, I now had a perfectly legitimate excuse in case someone else caught me following Dr. Kanaan's instructions.

Five minutes into my walk on a treadmill, I heard a boisterous, male laugh from behind me at the entrance to the cardio room. Tank Top fist-bumped a buddy of his, waved goodbye and looked around the room for an available machine. There appeared to be plenty of them around. There always were at this hour.

To my surprise, however, he walked over and stepped onto the treadmill next to me. I looked over and grinned.

"What's up, man," he said as if we'd just med, starting his machine at a quick walking pace.

"Not much. Just cooling down. Gonna call it a night soon."

"Cool," he answered, and a few minutes passed in relative silence, during which I took a couple of slugs of piss from the bottle, which was rapidly emptying now. Now that I knew (or at least suspected) that this guy wasn't going to flip out on me, I relaxed a little more. He seemed laid back as well.

"So I just gotta know," he turned to me suddenly. "Is that piss from a dude or from a girl?"

I looked at him. "What's your name?"

"I'm Nate."

"Nice to meet you, Nate." I leaned over and offered my hand. He hesitated for the space of a second or two before taking the hand and shaking it.

"It's piss from a guy, actually," I answered.

"What's it supposed to do for you," he asked.

Now I was beginning to understand. I laugh out loud. Gym enthusiasts are often ready to leap on anything, proven or not, that might enhance their performance. Nate evidently thought he might be missing out on some miracle tonic he didn't see in the that last edition of Muscle Mag.

Now, I'm not exactly a beast, myself. I have enough muscle to turn some heads, but I won't be winning any fitness awards or competitions any time soon.

"It, umm.." I trailed off for a second. "Well, it's sort of specific to me. I mean, I'm not sure it would do much for anyone else."

Nate leaned forward, grasping the stabilizer bar on his treadmill, and all the muscles in his arms stood out in stark relief. Jesus. How had I not noticed those before? In fact, it seems like I was seeing him now for the first time. I must have flushed a bit, because he suddenly gave me a strange look, then smirked and turned back to face forward.

"So what else is in it," he asked. "Medicine and stuff?"

"No, nothing like that."

"So, just plain old piss from a dude, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it looks like you're almost out of it."

I glanced down. "I guess so."

I knew what he was going to say before it happened, and when he did, he sounded almost sheepish.

"You need some more?"

I looked at him and said nothing.

"Cuz, well, I gotta piss bad, and I was about to head downstairs."

"You wanna refill my bottle, Nate?" I smiled.

"Sure. I mean, I'm not gay or anything. No offense if you are. But I can help out, I figure. Easy for me, easy for you. Otherwise, it'll go to waste."

I nodded. "I suppose that's true. You really wouldn't mind?"

"Nah, dude. We're both guys. And I'm clean as a whistle. Where else you gonna get a healthy guy's piss but the gym?"

"True," I answered.

Nate shrugged, then and turned off his treadmill. The belt slowed, then stopped completely.

"Give it here," he said, holding out his hand.

Reached over and grabbed the glass bottle, then handed it to him. The remainder of Dr. Kanaan's piss sloshed around at the bottom; barely an inch of it, golden and perfect.

With another grin, this one a little wolfish, Nate took the bottle and gestured with his chin. "Follow me. I'll hook you up."

My cock thickened as I followed the young stud downstairs towards the locker rooms. Even under the tank top, I could see how his waist narrowed, lending him that vee-shape that so many men seem to covet.

His blond hair was clipped short, maybe military-style. Come to think of it, that might explain why he didn't seem to mind the idea of pissing in a bottle for another guy. He walked with that half-cocky strut some men have perfected that drives everyone to distraction these days.

I looked at my watch. Ten o'clock. The gym would be closing in an hour or so. What traffic there had been before had thinned further. As we passed through the lockers, which appeared to be deserted, on our way to the restrooms, Nate glanced back at me.

"So you didn't answer my question up there, man. What's it do for you, drinking that?"

"Well," I thought about it for a few seconds. "I guess it's more of a test than a remedy."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I have to do this because my doctor told me to. Maybe to prove that I have what it takes."

"What it takes to do what," he asked.

"What it takes to obey his instructions so he can treat me."

Nate nodded. "What kind of doctor are we talking about, here?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, he's a psychiatrist. My therapist."

Nate stopped at the entrance to the men's room. "Your therapist. So you're crazy or something?" His eyes bored into mine. I looked away first.

"Yeah. I mean, yes, he's my therapist. No, I'm not crazy. I'm... an addict."

He smirked. "And what are you addicted to that a half gallon of hot piss will fix?"

This time, I know that my face turned a brilliant red.

"Sex," I answered.

His brows lifted. I couldn't believe I had just told a complete stranger something that personal. Perhaps it was because we didn't really know each other, so the admission was relatively safe; a non-believer's confessional, of sorts.

"Public sex, I mean. Like, situations where it's easy to get caught. Maybe the danger or something. Looks, I don't really know the ins and outs of it. That's why I started seeing a therapist, you know?"

Nate cocked his head, watching me. "Pretty wild, dude. But shit, if you're man enough to admit something like that, that says something, doesn't it?"

I chuckled nervously. "Well, yeah, if you're willing to call carrying a bottle of piss around a gym manly."

"So this doctor guy, he just gives you shit to do because he says so?"

"That's about it, yes."

"And you actually pay him for this?" Nate looked incredulous.

"He's pretty good, actually. He came highly recommended."

"Got it," he answered. "Okay. Wait here." He turned and disappeared into the men's room, leaving me with my thoughts. That didn't last long, however. From around the corner, I heard him laugh and say, "Fuck it." Then, he appeared again, grinning widely.

"Occurs to me that there's no one here. So why bother using a stall?" He walked past me and deeper into the banks of wood-lined lockers, the track lighting above causing his blond hair to glimmer as he moved.

I followed, unsure of where he was headed.

We turned a few corners and ended up at the other end of the locker room. Nate sat the bottle on a dressing bench and reached behind his neck to lift his shirt, sliding the material over his wide back and muscled shoulders.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just watched him.

Next, he bent over and slid down his shorts, stepping out of them and straightening up to face me wearing nothing but his cross-trainers and a black pair of briefs.

He looked like something off the cover of one of those softcore porn fitness magazines you see at airport bookstores. His shoulders and arms framed wide, flat pecs with a deep groove between them, set atop rippling abdominal muscles. His narrow hips flared outward into powerful, muscular thighs that stretched the material of the briefs to drumhead tightness. What is more, it could not have been clearer that he absolutely knew the effect this would have on me.

"Sit down, addict," he said without a hint of a smile. He reached down, picking up the bottle, then took a few steps toward me, stopping between my legs, a couple of feet from my face. I looked straight ahead, focusing on the heavily muscled chest.

"This doctor. He's giving you orders to drink piss in public, right? So, is it his?"

He held up the bottle, shaking it so that the contents sloshed back and forth. "Is this your therapist's piss?

I just nodded.

"Thought so. So he has you guzzling his urine. Only his? You think he'd be upset if he knew you drank some other dude's hot piss?"

I thought about that. "I think he probably would, yeah." This was misery. Spilling private information to a largely nude stranger right in front of me, I couldn't believe I'd let it go this far.

Nate grinned. "Good. Well, he isn't my doctor, so I don't really give a fuck."

He reached down, hooking a thumb over the waistband of his briefs and pulling it down, tucking it beneath a pair of big, loose balls.

His cock was thick, even completely soft, the head wide and round. And the whole beautiful organ was set in a nest of closely trimmed blond hair.

He gave his cock one quick tug, letting it flop back down over his nuts.

"Put this in your mouth," Nate ordered. He widened his stance and pushed his hips forward in an unmistakable invitation.

Leaning forward, I obeyed, and felt the head against my lips. I breathed in the scent of him. He smelled of some sort of body spray mingled with the sweat of any young athlete. I opened my mouth and slid the head inside, feeling its weight upon my tongue. I wanted to take it all immediately, but chose instead to follow his directions. I stopped after the head and about an inch of his thickness was inside my mouth.

"You ready for your medicine?"

I nodded, swiping my tongue once along the underside of his cock.

"Good. Once I start, keep swallowing. I'm not a stop-and-go kinda guy, so keep up, or you'll get to explain piss stains on this nice carpet to the gym manager."

A soft trickle began, wetting my tongue. The saltiness of his piss filled my senses. I could taste it, smell it, feel its heat in contrast to the room temperature contents of the bottle he still held in his left hand.

I swallowed, my eyes closing involuntarily as the blond stud let loose. I gulped again, then again. He filled my mouth as quickly as I emptied it.

Nate let out a long, slow breath. "That's good, man. Told you I had to take a leak bad."

The stream became a gush. "Take it, dude. Keep up. You can do it. You'd better fuckin' do it."

I had a brief moment of panic as the flow increased. I was afraid I might not be able to swallow quickly enough, but I had resolved not to lose control (as if sitting in a gym, slurping piss right from the tap of a guy ten years younger than me, a total stranger, counted as "control").

Wet sounds filled the air around us as I drank. He hadn't been joking. It felt like I had swallowed a quart from his apparently huge bladder. I wondered how much he had left yet to feed me.

"Fuuuck," Nate moaned. "Didn't think this would feel as good as it does, I'll be honest. Not sure why anyone would ever use a urinal after this. He glanced to his left down the bank of lockers.

At the end of the row, a man clad only in a white towel walked by, apparently headed for the men's room. He didn't look to his right.

I noticed this as the same time Nate did, and instinctively started to pull away.

Nate's hand was instantly behind my head, holding it firmly in place. "Oh, no no no, dude. You're not moving until I'm done. Keep swallowing, addict. Tighten your fucking lips and swallow. That's it. Good boy. Take my piss load."

As if I really had a choice. I continued gulping down his scalding urine. By the time the flow began to grow weaker, two more men had walked past the end of this aisle of lockers. The last one had even glanced over, but either didn't realize whey he had just seen, or didn't care.

I was convinced security would show up any second now to inform us that the police had been called. Still, I couldn't stop. Some part of me tingled with excitement mixed with raw fear and extreme sexual arousal.

At last, with a few final spurts of golden cock water, I had swallowed the last of him. My belly felt round and distended. I could almost feel Nate's piss entering my bloodstream, draining from my stomach into my intestines, becoming a part of me.

I looked up into a pair of hazel eyes and a blond five o'clock shadow. He grinned.

"You did good, dude. You can, uhh, let me go now." He moved backward a little and the head of his cock popped out of my mouth. I instantly missed its presence there. He packed his big meat back into his briefs and the waistband snapped against his groin, covering the clear line of his iliac crest.

"Looks like you're be full for a while. My advice to you is not to tell your therapist about this, but I have a feeling that deep down you've probably made up your mind to, anyway."

I stood up, no face-to-face with him. "I'm not sure, actually. I'll give it some thought." That much, at least, was honest.

"Well, if you do say something, tell him I'm a psych student at Northwestern. Tell him I had you figured pretty early on. Maybe he and I should work together on this particular case. What do you think?" he winked.

I had no answer for him. Damn him and that cockiness that came so naturally to guys like him. They knew there wasn't much they couldn't get away with, because literally everyone around them wanted them.

Without waiting for me to say anything, Nate turned and walked off, dropping the bottle of Dr. Kanaan's piss onto a nearby bench and leaning down to snatch up his shorts and shirt from the floor as he passed.

"I'm here most evenings," he called over his shoulder. "Let me know the next time you need a refill."

I slumped to the seat behind me, my mind reeling.

Later, as I slung my gym back over my shoulder and walked out the front door, I pulled out my phone and dialed Dr. Kanaan's personal number. I had a lot of explaining to do, and a small part of me was looking forward to every agonizing minute of it.