He got it to empty into the toilet water, finally, as it softened. One more time he wiped up the pee that he had gotten on the toilet. He had this pro...lem often now. He wondered why it was always getting hard. But he was afraid to ask Debby or Fred. They were his foster parents, the Claggetts. He'd lived with them for about three years now, along with Faith, another foster child like him. He was actually ashamed to ask. From what he heard at church he thought maybe it was because he was being. She told him that the minister comes by every Sunday afternoon to give her cummioun.Harry spent a couple of hours thinking why she would do this to him for the fourth time in a month. He wanted to know what was so important to receive commiun at home instead at the church. He decided he would watch what happens.Harry parked his car around the corner from his mother's house. He wanted the corner so he could see when the minister arrived at the house then he would walk over there.Around three in. She was terrible at filing and making appointments but who cares; Mr Jones had secretaries for shit like that. Mr Jones was young for an executive president, most people guessed about forty. Tall, dark, with broad shoulders and an impressive build, the pants of his crisp, expensive suit wide open. Brittany was twenty-one years old and happy to flaunt. She stood 5"5, with a body that she loved to take care of with regular trips to gym and to the beach. Long blonde hair cascaded down past her. "Do you want me to help you, Denise? Will you trust me to help you learn to enjoy, and even desire anal sex?"I nodded, and he had me lie back on the couch and close my eyes. He told me to imagine myself in a white room with a series of objects. He described them, and described how warm and comfortable I felt in the soft, fluffy white couch in the soft fluffy white room."Look at the clock on the table in the white room. Let the clock fade away, and let your perception of time fade with it. Feel.