Dropping the kids off

I’ve been called a wanker a heap of times. And let’s be honest, who doesn’t like rubbing one out. ‘There’s Something About Mary’ isn’t the first time any of us have gone out after cleaning the pipes, albeit without the same sticky consequences.

When you’re told that you have cancer and you will have to undergo various treatments, the last thing on your mind is that someone is going to suggest you have a medicinal wank.

Even more disconcerting is that EVERY doctor you meet, often within the first couple of minutes of meeting them, raises the topic.

My wife and I have a beautiful daughter Annabelle. She was born 7wks premature and spent her first 5wks in NICU. She was born via emergency caesarian which was shit. It was shit for my wife because she was sent home without her/our gorgeous daughter. It was shit that my wife, and to a large extent I, missed out on the normal birthing experience.

It was also shit because out obstetrician had told us if we had another child, the same risks existed. From a purely selfish standpoint I don’t think I could go through that again, and my wife agreed. Or so I thought.

And so I ended up at the IVF clinic wearing a trench coat and fedora. OK I didn’t but I may as well have given I was the only bloke in the waiting room.

The technician called my name and as I looked up I was happy and ashamed at the same time to see an absolute glamour. I’m talking Heidi Klum, mixed with Gisele Bundchen, and the a dash of girl next door. Her ‘come with me Geoff’ was met with a giggle that I’m sure she had shared with other wanker’s before me.

It was then she showed me to my room and said “you should find everything you need in here. When you’re done, come through the door and we’ll be waiting for you”. I was gutted to think that there were other people on the other side of any door, let alone the one I had to enter to make my deposit.

The room itself was nondescript, other than the pleather recliner, TV mounted to the wall, multitudes of reading material and various cleaning products. I settled in, not confident to sit on the chair, being unaware of how many asses had previously sat there while certifying their cheques, and perused the selection of titles.

Once I had made my selection, I tried valiantly to get to work. I’m not sure whether it was the radio playing ‘background’ music, or the utter shame of being led into a room by an absolute glamour, at a place where I knew someone who worked there, to have a wank, but it was the hardest wank I’ve ever had, and not hard in the sense that you could hammer nails in with my cock.

Needless to say, I got the job done, and was relieved to walk through the door and hand off my spawn to the technician, safe in the knowledge that she would judge them according to their number, motility, and concentration. What a way to start the day.

My elation at being almost done was overridden by the fact that I recognised one of the other technicians as being a girl I went to school with over the shoulder of Heidi. She glanced in my direction and I knew the game was up. While we had been civil to each other in our younger years, our relationship was about to step up a notch. I only hoped that she looked at my sample and didn’t touch.

And so I ran away. Quickly. My getaway was slowed only by the fucktard who parked less than half a foot from the drivers side door of my car, requiring me to access the vehicle via the passenger seat, allowing me to access the 8th layer of hell.

The highlight, other than the wank of course, was getting to work, just in time to greet one of my bosses, who I was yet to meet. Notwithstanding that I had washed and sanitised my hands a number of times since dropping the kids off, as I shook his hand, my immediate thought was “I just had a wank with that hand”.

Good times.

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