by Queen, Roxy
*
“How would you feel about moving your sessions to the bed?”
I shift in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Fine.”
“Your body language suggests differently.”
So does my pulse. If Dr. Markson had me hooked up to a monitor, the fast-paced beeps would probably break the machine. “That doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try.”
“I know, but for each step of exposure you should be ready, not forcing yourself. How do you feel about your current level?”
“I’ve taken off my shorts, but not my bra and panties. I’m okay with that, other than the embarrassment.”
“Why are you embarrassed?”
My cheeks are burning. Because that’s what I do, I want to yell, get embarrassed about sex, talking about sex, thinking about sex. “To be honest I’m very attracted to Graham.” I cough. “Physically.”
Dr. Markson nods and jots down a note. “And this is embarrassing to you?”
“A little. I mean, I know it’s a normal reaction. We’re increasingly intimate with one another and he’s very good at what he’s doing.” I look toward the window and then say, “He also enjoys it. I can tell.”
“Graham is getting aroused during your sessions?”
“Yes.”
“He’s said this?”
“No. He’s very professional. I’ve just noticed.”
“Noticed how?”
She wants me to say the words. It’s a power struggle we get into at times. Fine. I can say it. “He’s erect. Hard. He has a boner by the end of each session.” The other day I’m pretty sure he had a boner before we even started. I can anticipate Dr. Markson’s next question.
“How does his arousal make you feel?”
“Weird,” I say, but the imploring look on her face tells me that’s not enough. “It’s flattering to be attractive to someone. To know that you turn them on, but…”
“But, what?”
“But it’s also intimidating. It happens in all my relationships. At some point, the attraction goes from friendship to something more. That’s when I feel threatened.”
“So you fear for your safety?”
“Yes. Not that I think Graham will hurt me, but his dick? Yes, in the past that tool was used to hurt me. Intentional or not.”
“This brings us back around to my original question. Are you ready to move to the bed? Being in a bed has many implications.
“I want to be ready.”
She nods. “I think for your next step you and Graham will have to work on increasing the intimacy. Not just the location of the intimacy.”
I gulp back the rising fear. “How so?”
“I’m aware that Graham matches your level of undress. You took that very proactive measure. This will have to continue, and you’ll need to both disrobe in front of one another. And soon, you’ll have to become comfortable touching his body as well.”
I’m only half listening, my mind stuck on Graham’s fully naked body. His erect cock freed from the constraints of his shorts. My fingers twitch and the feeling in the pit of my stomach…it’s not fear. It feels hot, like a lump of smoldering coal. That idea makes me feel guilty. I shouldn’t desire another man like this. Dylan and I had just promised one another we would stick together through the study. Great, now I have another layer of complexity to add to all of this.
“If you think you’re ready, my plan is to adjust your treatment plan in this direction. You’ve had wonderful results, going step by step, and I want to continue in a similar fashion; but I think it’s time for you to become a more active participant. Making it a little less Audrey focused and a little more on intimacy and arousal as a couple. We’ll take it one step at a time just like before.” She looks at me over her glasses. “How do you feel about moving forward?”
Terrified.
Excited.
I admit neither of those, instead giving her a nonchalant shrug, and say, “I’m ready.”
Chapter 18
(Graham)
I’m reading over Dr. Markson’s instructions when Audrey comes out of the bathroom. I glance up, but then do a double take. Her hair is up. She’s wearing a long tank top. My eyes linger on her thighs. No shorts?
“Did Dr. Markson leave the new instructions in the book?”
“Yes, some of them. They’re a little vague.”
“I guess I’m supposed to take a bit more of an assertive role.”
I nod and look down again at the book in my hands. “I see.”
“I’m wearing panties,” she blurts. Her face turns scarlet. She lifts the hem by her hip and flashes them to me. I see cotton, blue with green polka dots. My dick twitches.
Wanting to make her comfortable, I stand from my spot on the couch and tug off my shorts, revealing my gray boxer briefs; and then, I say, “Level playing field.”
She doesn’t reply but walks across the room and sits on the bench. I adjust the lights (and myself) and turn on the music. I’m walking toward her when she says, “Can you close the curtains a little, so it’s a bit darker?”
“Sure.”
I pull the shades closed so there’s substantially less light. My eyes adjust and I cross the room, mirroring her position on the bench. Normally, I sit behind her but not today. Today, I face her and I can barely see Audrey in the dim light, but I get it. She feels protected like this, cloaked in darkness, less exposed.
Quietly, she removes her shirt, letting the tank fall to the floor. Even with less light, I see her bra matches her panties. I remove my shirt as well, dropping it next to hers. The music is loud, ebbing and flowing around us; even so, I can hear her tiny nervous breaths. Her head tilts down so I take her hand in mine. She latches on and I realize that removing her shirt is as far as she could assert herself. It is enough.
I lift her arm and ask, “Can I touch you here?”
“Yes.”
I stroke her arms with my fingertips, working my way from her hands to her shoulders. I move to the other arm and do the same thing. Her chest rises and falls, the smooth, pale skin bright against the dim light.
“If you were with a normal woman,” she says, breaking the quiet, “you know, intimately, what would you do now?”
“My instinct?”
“Yes. What would you instinctively do?”
“Do you want me to show you or tell you,” I ask.
She swallows and looks at me under hooded, scared eyes. “Show me, but--“
“You’re safe, Audrey.”
She nods. “Okay, then show me.”
“First,” I clarify my actions before I do them, “I’d move a little closer.” I inch forward so our knees touch. I’m straddling the bench, legs spread. Luckily, for both of us, I’m not hard. Not yet, but it’s going to happen, sooner rather than later; and she’ll have to accept it. “Then, I’d lift your chin so I can see you better, your mouth better; and I’d ask you if I could kiss you.” I place my hand under his chin and tilt it upward. Her lips, plump and red, taunt me even in the dark.
“Yes.” Her tongue darts out, grazing her bottom lip.
I pause wondering if this is okay. Dr. Markson and I knew that Audrey and I would have to get to this place at some point. The mouth is an integral part of sex. The air feels warm and my cock is growing tight; and I wonder if it’s too soon.
My worries are for nothing because Audrey takes charge and her lips press against mine. They are as soft as I suspected they’d be. I respond accordingly, sweet but not hungry. She’s not ready for hungry; I know this. I know what she needs. It’s my gift. It’s why I’ve been chosen for this job. When she opens her mouth to me, I gently push my tongue inside. We kiss like this, losing ourselves in base affection.
“That was nice,” she says, after pulling away.
“It was.”
“So you’d kiss a normal girl, then what?”
I don’t know how to tell her that I’m not usually with normal girls. That they’re all broken and damaged
to some extent, but she’s being honest with me and I don’t want to negate that. “I’d keep kissing her and then feel her, uh, boobs.”
“Show me.”
I kiss her again, pushing a tendril of her red hair off her cheek. I run my fingers across her collarbone, and then dip one between the curving valley of her breasts. She shivers and I glance down, seeing her nipples press against the thin fabric of her bra.
“Show me, Graham,” she says between kisses. “I won’t break.” Her breath is warm and smells like mint. She lifts her legs over my thighs, until she’s almost sitting in my lap and my hands move to her sides, tempering her moves. If Dr. Markson asked her to lead and she’s doing a good job, then why am I the one holding back? This may be the break through we’ve been looking for and I’m over here being a pussy.
“First, I’d hold them like this, stroking the edges until she wanted more.” I demonstrate, feeling the firmness of her tits in my hands. They push upward, accentuating her cleavage. Her tits are fantastic. They fit perfectly in my hand, not too small and not too big.
She lifts her hands and tugs down her straps. They fall down her arms; and again, I’m awestruck by her beauty. The upper arches of her areolas peek from under the blue fabric, teasing and taunting. I graze my thumbs over both and she shudders again, shaking her boobs enough that her bra slips a little lower. My dick tightens to the point it’s painful. I’m willing it to stay down and under control when she surprises me by moving her hands to the clasp between her breasts.
I lay a hand on top of hers. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.” She nods and releases her tits. They bounce slightly from the movement. My hands grip the sides of the bench, but my eyes are glued to the woman in front of me.
“You’re very beautiful, Audrey.”
“Thank you.” I catch the nervous lilt in her voice. I realize I have to do something I’d rather not, because the next step is too far. She’s not ready. Reluctantly, I pull my gaze from her chest.
“I think you’ve made big strides today, but I don’t want to push it.”
“It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”
“No, it’s not. You’ve been intimate with men before, but I don’t want to risk the experiment by going too fast.”
“Okay.” I see the cloud rushing back over her eyes. I don’t want her to feel bad. Negative thoughts are like a torpedo for someone like Audrey.
“Can we do this again next time? Maybe go a little further?”
“Sure. Yes. That would be great.” She attempts to smile. Reality is crashing down and I know I need to wrap this up. Make her feel safe again.
“Can you do me one last thing?” I take her hand. She nods. “Can you walk to the bathroom without putting on your shirt or bra?”
“Why? What does that have to do with anything?
“You don’t have to, but owning your body is part of this challenge; stepping out of the dark and into the light, while exposing yourself to different vulnerabilities.”
She sits up straight, popping those breasts back in my line of sight. She doesn’t notice, or if she does, she doesn’t say anything. I’m assuming she’s too worried about herself right now to worry about my lecherous stares and me. Her forehead creases, I assume she’s gathering courage. She stands, walking away without a word. I keep my eyes cast down while she goes.
The minute the door shuts, I take a deep breath. Then another. My cock is painfully hard and a quick glance reveals a wet spot where cum has soaked through. I never realized how difficult this was going to be. All of my other ventures with women include me satisfying my own needs. I’m in the middle of a series of breathing exercises when she comes out of the bathroom, and says, “Thanks for the session. I’ll see you next time.”
I turn and wave, unable to stand. “You did great today.”
She touches the doorknob, but pauses, turning to me with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine…just…” There’s no reason to lie. None. This room is about honesty. “Dealing with my own body issues at the moment.”
Her eyebrows knit together for a brief moment of confusion, but clarity comes quickly and she offers me a shy smile. “Oh. Yikes. Okay, then. Bye.”
She slams the door behind her and I hobble to the bathroom to start what has become a very familiar and necessary habit.
Chapter 19
(Audrey)
Sex is my new obsession.
I’m obsessed.
I think about it before I go to bed and when I wake up. I think about it in the car, at work, and on the way home. The exposure therapy has lit a fire under my skin, the touching and constant arousal, but never completion. Not with a partner. Not with Graham. I only find release with my fingers and the rocket.
There’s an elephant in the room. It’s silent but visible. Calm, but one look in its direction and God knows what will happen. Will it erupt? Shrink from exposure? Come at me aggressively? Whatever we do, I can’t ignore it any longer.
Oh, and in case my metaphor isn’t clear, it’s not an elephant, it’s a penis; and no matter how hard Graham tries, it’s unwilling to continue in its role as a passive participant.
We’re in the same position as last time, straddling the bench across from one another. I’m shirtless (okay, I’m wearing a bra, but it’s thin.) He’s shirtless. My panties are on. So are his boxers. My nipples are erect and so is his cock. He hasn’t touched them yet. They’re eager, crawling through the fabric of my bra, but I’m scared. Shitless. I’m aware that one thing always leads to another; and this is the tip of the knife. I try to hide my fear behind calm breaths and steady hands; but my neck turns pink. When I’m nervous I itch, and then I scratch, leaving long, red streaks up and down my thighs from my nails.
Graham has his own tells. Tight eyes. Clenched jaw. The way his abdomen tenses. We’re both struggling in our own ways. I glance down and wonder…maybe this could go in another direction?
“Are you in pain?” I ask, breaking the tension. His eyes lift from my chest and he arches an eyebrow. I point. “Down there.”
“No,” he lies. I raise my eyebrow to match his and he laughs, dimples appearing. “A little.”
I ease a little closer, and say, “Is it against the rules for me to touch you?”
“Um. Well, uh…” He grapples for words. “No, but, I’m not sure you should.”
“Why not?”
“This is about your anxiety, not my discomfort.”
“Well, I’m getting anxious being the center of attention all the fucking time.”
His eyes grow wide at my cursing. “We’re exposing you to your anxieties. What does touching me have to do with anything?”
I feel a flare of anger in my chest. “It has to do with the grand scheme of things. Exactly when do you plan on whipping that thing out?”
“When we reach that level.”
I cross my arms over my chest, covering everything up. “I’m ready now. We spend a lot of time focused on my body, but you’re here, too. Eventually, I’m going to have to become comfortable with you before we get to the end zone. Dr. Markson agrees.”
His eyes narrow slightly and I know he’s considering it, but he’s not completely swayed. I try again. “I know this is awkward. I’m topless and clearly a little aroused. You’re obviously more than a little…excited. How about I take this by the head, or well,” I laugh. Even I can tell how high pitched and hysterical my voice sounds. “Let me take you by the head and get this over with.”
He looks to the ceiling, seeming to be in some sort of internal battle. Finally, he says, “Okay. You’re right. It’s not as if we’re not going there at some point. I trust that you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” I repeat, now feeling a slight wave of panic. “It’s time for me to meet the guy that’s been playing peek-a-boo at me for weeks now.”
We both laugh and it’s obvious that he’s not nervous; in fact, I’m still the one with shaking hands. I’m not sure
how far I can go with this, but at least I’ve addressed it. Graham leans back on two hands, exposing the fine, dark hairs leading from his naval, under his shorts. I’d like to touch that hair to see if it feels as soft as it looks, or if it’s coarse like Dylan’s. I skip the hair this time, too intimate, and reach for his waistband, tugging down gently. The tip of his penis peeks out, red and swollen. I exhale proudly and look up. He appears calm and collected, other than the knot protruding near the back of his jaw.
I decide to take it a step further and reveal something I’ve wanted to say for a while. “When I go home after our sessions, I’ve been using my…well, I call it my rocket. Does this happen to you?”
“Yeah, I’ve been taking care of it.”
I nod and look back at his cock. With one finger, I touch the tip. It’s warm and smooth. Alive. I graze my finger over the thin ridge separating the head and the shaft. He shudders in response. “I gave my first blow job when I was in high school. I almost puked. I’m not one of those girls who can eat or drink just anything. I have a pretty sensitive gag reflex.”
“Did you have the anxiety then?”
“No, because I’d never tried to have sex. Back then, I thought my nerves were normal. They were normal. Jittery school-girl nerves.” I stop there. I don’t want to talk about the anxiety because, well, it makes me anxious.
I touch him again, this time smearing the oozing, clear fluid from the tip around in a circle. Through gritted teeth he says, “You seem pretty calm now.”
“You aren’t going to try anything. I know that. I trust you.”
That elicits a smile, a genuine one. I decide the elephant is out of the room now and cover his dick with his shorts. That’s it. I just needed to see it. Touch it and move on.
Scooting closer, I lean forward and fling my arms around him, pressing my chest into his. His strong arms wrap around my body and I lean my head into his shoulder. God, he feels good. Well, his arms do. His dick is trying to stab its way into my stomach.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling away.
I shake my head and get off the bench. “No problem. I’m gonna change and go. Then you can take care of that.”