It's better to let me do the thinking, my cock said to me. I pictured myself in therapy ten years from now, with Frasier Crane sitting in the chair opposite me. (I may have binged watched too many old TV shows.) Old? My mother was in her teens when that show was on the air. Thoughts of TV shows and therapy left me as I sat my naked ass down on the couch and stroked my dick, thinking about Mom and what Mom was going to say when she realized that I no longer needed to make her do anything.

I used my spit to grease my cock, and as...