Pool Boy Prob­lems

Doc­tor, I’ve got skin­ny­dip­ping with Daddy is­sues.

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PA­TIENT: Your pa­tient Drake O’Con­nell is a friend of mine and… Doc­tor: Who? Pa­tient: Drake O’Con­nell? He said he sees you three times a week? (Pause.) Doc­tor: Oh, the per­vert! Pa­tient: Are you a real shrink? Doc­tor: No, I just play one for DNA mag­a­zine. Pa­tient: (Looks wor­ried.) Doc­tor: Just a lit­tle psy­cho hu­mor. Of course I’m a real doc­tor. And yes, Drake is com­ing so many times a month I was able to af­ford my seven man hot tub with 52 stain­less steel jets and pro­gram­mable dig­i­tal multi-color LED lights in the shell. It’s where I hold my group ther­apy ses­sions. I think I’ll name it the Drake… Pa­tient: O’Con­nell? Doc­tor: Yes! The Drake O’Con­nell Me­mo­rial Hot Tub! But I di­gress. Please go on. Pa­tient: Drake said you were hand­some and young look­ing for your age and he wasn’t kid­ding. Doc­tor: Drake may be a per­vert but he’s got great taste. Pa­tient: How old are you? Doc­tor: You never ask a shrink their age. But I must ad­mit, be­tween the ages of 29 and 30 were the best ten years of my life. Pa­tient: I’m not sure I fol­low but what­ever it is, it works. Doc­tor: I’ve been drink­ing Oil Of De­lay for decades. Pa­tient: Drink­ing what? Doc­tor: Since you’re at­tracted to me and I’m a wee bit older, do you have “fa­ther” is­sues? Pa­tient: He died when I was a young boy. Doc­tor: (Sit­ting taller in his seat.) And now you find yourself hun­gry for older men in hopes of recre­at­ing the bond you never had with your bi­o­log­i­cal fa­ther? A man who can teach you and guide you and mas­sage you to sleep at night? Pa­tient: Ah, no. He was very wealthy and left my mother a ton of money. She re­cently re­mar­ried. My step­fa­ther is younger than she is and… well… he’s in­cred­i­bly hand­some. Doc­tor: (Arches his eye­brow.) Hand­some in what ways? Pa­tient: Well, he is just over six feet tall, has cobalt blue eyes and curly brown hair that al­ways falls per­fectly into place… Doc­tor: As op­posed to yours? Pa­tient: (Self-con­sciously primps hair.) Mine does have a mind of its own. I know it looks like a – Doc­tor: Hat. Pa­tient: Ex­cuse me? Doc­tor: A cheap cap. How old are you? Pa­tient: 27. Doc­tor: And are you still liv­ing with your mother? Pa­tient: Yes. Doc­tor: Now there’s your prob­lem. Please go on. Pa­tient: Well, things have be­come a lit­tle awk­ward with mother and… Doc­tor: No, I meant please go on with the de­scrip­tion of your step­fa­ther. You said he was a strap­ping man with mus­cles bulging in places you never knew ex­isted? Pa­tient: He does! He hasn’t a job so he spends a lot of time at home. And re­cently dur­ing one re­ally hot day when my mum was gone do­ing er­rands I thought I’d cool off with a swim in our pool. Doc­tor: (Slaps his knee know­ing he was right.) Pa­tient: What? Doc­tor: You are now of­fi­cially in­vited to my group ther­apy ses­sions in my seven, ah, eight man hot tub with 52 stain­less steel jets and pro­gram­mable dig­i­tal multi-color LED lights in the shell. Pa­tient: Um. Doc­tor: Do you wear boxy trunks or are you proud and evolved and wear just enough thong to con­tain your pe­nis and balls in the pouch that’s about to ex­plode with the weight of your en­dow­ment and, in the back, there’s an itsy bitsy strip of fab­ric to hide your run­way? Pa­tient: I wear a speedo. Doc­tor: One that when spritzed lightly with wa­ter ev­ery­one can see the out­line of your man­hood? Pa­tient: I’m cir­cum­cised. Doc­tor: No, I meant… you are a tough nut to crack. Please, go on. Pa­tient: So my step­fa­ther and I are alone in the house and it’s hot and I go out to the pool and sit down at the edge and let my legs dan­gle into the cool wa­ter. And be­fore I know it, I hear a splash and my step­fa­ther sur­faces from un­der­neath the wa­ter and po­si­tions him­self right in front of me and places a hand on each of my knees and says, “Come, take a dip with me. But slip off your suit, it’s much too hot to­day.” Doc­tor: It was, wasn’t it? Pa­tient: What? Doc­tor: Much too hot that day? Pa­tient: In more ways than one. I peered down into the wa­ter and re­alised he was naked. Stark naked! Doc­tor: Let me just in­ter­ject, you do have a se­ri­ous sit­u­a­tion and it’s likely you should see me more times a week than Drake… now please con­tinue. Pa­tient: I started to trem­ble; I was so ner­vous and ex­cited at the same time. Doc­tor: (Look­ing at his watch.) Quickly, tell me what hap­pened? Pa­tient: I saluted him. Doc­tor: (Con­fused.) He’s a sol­dier? Pa­tient: No… I… you know… down there. I stood at at­ten­tion. Doc­tor: Your prob­lem is you can’t talk sex. Pa­tient: I… had an erec­tion. Doc­tor: Who doesn’t? Pa­tient: What? Doc­tor: (Looks at his watch again.) Yes, yes, go on! Pa­tient: His hands worked their way to my bathing suit and he sig­naled me to lift my hips and… (A door­bell rings.) Doc­tor: Hold that… thought… your time is up. Pa­tient: But Doc­tor, I feel so frus­trated that I have to stop. Doc­tor: Join the club.

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