Thanks to SexyKitty_B for editing.
Despite the fact that we had merely used each other as fucktoys, Elise's departure left my heart with a permanent void. One that no amount of masturbating could fill. And believe me, I tried. Aside from pumping out two or three loads during work time, I also jacked off incessantly at home, in the privacy of my bedroom.
As a result, from my parents' point of view, I was constantly short-tempered - either from being horny, fatigued or both. After a couple of fallings-out and numerous endless discussions, they arrived at the inescapable conclusion that I was somehow depressed. And no matter how much I reasoned with them and tried to reassure them that I was just going through a challenging time in my life, they wouldn't listen.
Mom, firmly believing that I needed saving, called a friend of hers, Brenda, who worked as a psychotherapist for the police department. As if discussing my behavior with a perfect stranger wasn't invasive enough, mom then went on to make an appointment for me at Brenda's office.
As I wasn't particularly in the mood to talk about my feelings, especially to some shrink, I simply didn't go and I lied to mom and dad, telling them that Brenda had helped me work through some stuff, but that it would take quite a few follow-up appointments to figure everything out.
They bought it, and although this little lie got them off my back for the time being, I also realized that it was only a matter of time before this would come back to bite me. I had to get out of there; the sooner the better. And so, I doubled my efforts to find a place to live.
About two weeks later, my endeavors paid off, when I found a loft at the other side of town. The two freshmen who lived there, Stuart and Thomas, were looking for a roommate. One who didn't ask too many questions and, preferably, with very low standards.
It was a perfect fit. They liked to walk around naked and shoot their cum everywhere they damned well pleased, just like me. They didn't have girlfriends - no surprise there - and so it would just be the three of us. Realizing this was as close to home as I was going to find, I signed the lease and moved in as quickly as humanly possible.
Stuart and Thomas kept pretty much to themselves and because of my night shifts, we hardly every saw each other. If it wasn't for walking in on them jacking off in the living room or the bathroom now and again, I'd never even know they were there.
Life was good and all went well, until one Saturday in June - about two months after moving in. I was in my room gaming with my headset on. I was relaying orders to my teammates in a first-person shooter, when a loud knock on the door startled me.
Stuart opened the door and said, "Dude, I called out like a million times! There's some chick here to see you."
"What?" I whispered as I got up from my chair, wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. But before I could put on some clothes, an attractive older woman - about mom's age - barged in, forcing her way passed Stuart, who wasn't wearing any more clothes than I was.
"My name is Brenda," the woman declared, eyeballing the both of us.
"Shit," I whispered. I had forgotten all about her.
"Shit indeed Mark," she replied, "I just ran into your mother, who asked me how your therapy was going. As you can probably imagine, that was not a pleasant conversation!"
Stuart gave me a sympathetic smile, realizing I was in a lot of trouble. For a moment, I was distracted by the obvious bulge in his underwear.
"Mark?" Brenda exclaimed, quickly realizing what I was looking at, "Why are you in your underwear? Why is everyone is his underwear?"
"Later dude," Stuart said, strangely amused by my discomfort, as he closed the door.
"Look... uh, I," I stammered.
"Mark, are you gay?" Brenda asked bluntly.
"Look lady, that's none of your business and I'd appreciate..."
"When your mother has a bitch fit in the middle of the mall, calling me an unprofessional quack because of your duplicity, it very much becomes my business, Mark!"
"Look, I am sorry for cancelling, but I didn't feel like..."
"And what's with all the cum everywhere?" she asked, glancing at a particular nasty stain on one of my drapes, "It's everywhere... the living room couch, the floor... even your curtains!"
"I just like jacking off and cumming wherever I want," I replied, having just decided that I wasn't going to apologize to some stranger for the way I chose to live my life.
"Without cleaning it up?" she asked, a bit surprised.
"Obviously," I replied, fighting just a tad of shame.
"That's just plain disgusting," she said as she glanced around, looking for more stains.
"I know... and I don't care!" I replied, not backing down, "That's kind of the idea!"
"It's kind of pathetic, if you ask me," she whispered, not one to beat about the bush.
My cock got hard instantly hearing this beautiful woman call me pathetic. Brenda noticed and glanced at my swollen crotch - pretty shamelessly I might add.
"So, Brenda, why are you here?" I asked, clapping my hands together, startling her.
When, after about five seconds, she still hadn't answered, I pressed on and said, "I assume you don't make house calls to every patient who is a no-show!"
Looking into my eyes again, she hesitantly replied, "No... no, of course not!"
After a moment or two, she continued, "I guess your mother guilted me into coming to see you."
"Yeah, she's good at that," I whispered, not knowing what else to say.
Then, as if this conversation wasn't weird enough, Brenda sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, covering her face with both hands. She was clearly distraught. Figuring this was not the time to tell her that she had just sat down in a big glob of freshly deposited cum, I remained quiet.
"I am sorry," she said, "I am just having a very bad week. I found my husband in bed with his secretary three days ago. How's that for Karma... you make a career out of telling other people how to keep a relationship together and meanwhile your own husband is banging his twenty-year old personal assistant."
"I am sorry to hear that," I whispered awkwardly, hoping this conversation would end soon.
"Well, I should have gotten a clue when he stopped fucking me years ago," she continued ranting, "At first, you learn to live without the sex... but pretty soon you're not even talking anymore!"
Suddenly, she paused and looked at me, realizing she was confiding in a half-naked wanker about half her age. She quickly got up and moved both hands to her ass to make sure her skirt hadn't ridden up, thereby discovering a large, wet smear all over it. She turned around and quickly realized that she was touching my cum, and where it originated from.
"I mean, your own bed, Mark, really?" she said. She was so desperate to get my cum off her hands that she wiped them on the first thing she could find; the front of her skirt. It took her a few moments to realize her mistake and to stop what she was doing.
In looking up from her skirt, her gaze lingered at my crotch which was bulging once again. Realizing my cock was reacting to her actions, she bashfully looked me in the eye and smiled.
"I guess I should be thankful that I am still able to recognize cum when I see it," she whispered, trying to alleviate tension. I just stood there, not knowing what to say or do next.
"I guess it's actually pretty hot," she whispered softly while looking down at her skirt and running her index finger over the soiled fabric.
"Wait, what?" I asked, shocked.
