Assemble Some of the Elements in a Group and Treat the Group / 9.26.16 / 6:55-7:25

It’s been twenty-one years since my time in the hospital and I’m beginning to forget which is a shame because I always thought that was going to be my formative event. My definitive era and maybe it is. I don’t know. Doesn’t really seem like it, though and any reasonable man would take that distance with a great sense of self-satisfaction and congratulate himself on his growth out of the destructive indulgences of youth.

But I have never been a reasonable man and so I’m clamoring with all this unexpected and unwanted time on my hands to piece together the names and faces that populated those seven days.

The only one I can remember, for certain, is Jason.

Jason was a red-headed schizophrenic with a cowlick and a lisp and we hated him. Eh, maybe hate is too strong a term for medicated, adolescent disdain but the kid was a royal pain in the ass from day one. Always getting up in your personal space. Always spitting when he spoke. Always sucking up to the staff as if they gave a flying fuck about his wants or needs.

He was also a savagely sloppy masturbator. I think he might have been compulsive but who am I to judge that now? I’ve been known to lose whole days to porn and humorless erections but at the time there was something about the way he handled his dick that was just downright unsettling.

We only spent one night together. I’d been ousted from my room on account of a new kid needing to utilize the restraints and bunk up with the kid and as soon as it was lights out the motherfucker went to town. Huffing and puffing and hissing spit as he jerked off under his rayon blanket. It was hideous. I could barely keep my own erection for his merciless assault. I don’t think I did but maybe. At that point, I was more than used to jerking off in company. Three years in a dorm will do that. Hell, when I used to live with Josh and Bonk we used to have masturbation contest. Josh always won which was something he was unduly proud of and I always lost which – a few years on when I was finally fucking – would prove to be something of a burden.

Sometimes, you just need a quickie, you know?

Anyway, I remember getting up at some point during his rabid little marathon to go to the bathroom and when I switched the light on, I came find the room was positively drenched in cum.

It was like some German shit. Total bukkake nightmare. Cum on the mirror. Cum on the tiles. Cum on the can. Cum was fucking EVERYWHERE, man and some of it was still dripping and warm like he’d been marking his territory right up until we said goodnight.

Admittedly, I was somewhat impressed. This kid was Peter fucking North. Of course, I wasn’t going to admit that and no quiet nod to ejaculatory prowess was going to keep me from bugging the fuck out and wailing on him in his bed (dick still in hand) growling “What the FUCK, man? What the FUCK?!?” over and over again.

He just laughed and pulled the blanket back daring me to come into firing range.

I didn’t.

I left the room and headed straight to the nurse’s station to demand I be moved somewhere less grotesque.

“There’s cum everywhere. I can’t handle it.”

“Well, it’s that or you can spend the night with a violent psychopath if you’d like.”

“I’ll take my chances.”


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