Authors: Roxy Queen
Chapter 16
(Graham)
The door closes with a click and I release a long, pent-up breath from my hiding spot in the closet. Yes, I hid in the closet. Why? Because she asked for some space. Oh, and because my
dick is harder than a steel pipe and more obvious than the Washington Monument.
I walk across the room,
only pausing long enough to lock the door before entering the bathroom. My pants are already halfway down by the time I secure that door, too. I lean back on the counter and avoid my eyes in the mirror. I know what my horny face looks like. No need to see it again, especially since I’m pretty sure there’s a little guilt there too. Audrey’s not one of my client’s. Not a plaything, but those thoughts are quickly pushed aside as I free my cock, grimacing as it bobs painfully against my stomach.
This is not professional.
At all.
With one hand back for support on the counter,
I stroke the head, cum already oozing from the top and reach lower to fondle my balls. Something happened in there, something that flipped the switch. It may have been when her nipples rose like pebbles
before
I touched them. Or it may have been when I felt them harden under my hands. Or maybe the quick breaths she took to focus because she was turned on, too.
I grip the shaft and tug, stroking up and down, lingering over the head,
and then dipping back down to my balls. I roll them in my hand once—twice—and start the process over, letting my dick bounce free once or twice in anticipation. I repeat this motion over and over again. The vision in my mind stuck on pale skin beneath a blue bra and scenes from my imagination of that pink rocket she purchased the other day. I think about what’s under the bra and beneath the thin, gray shorts she wears each session. I grunt and bite my lip, in anticipation of the rush coming from my balls to the tip. My dick is excruciatingly hard. My eyes pop open, one second before I explode, realizing I have nothing to come into. “Shit,” I mutter, spinning around, jerking into the sink as thick white cum squirts across the porcelain.
I finally look at myself, at my red spent cock, at the sweat forming across my forehead
, and my bright pink cheeks. I shake my head in relieved annoyance.
Fuck.
Chapter
17
(Audrey)
Dylan’s leaning agains
t my front door when I bound up the stairs to my apartment after my appointment. I’m listening to music, pleased with the results from this afternoon’s session. Seeing him stops me cold and I soak in his Dylan-ness from the top of the steps. He’s wearing heavy, black boots, dark jeans topped by a red and white plaid flannel jacket. When he sees me, he flashes a tight smile. He looks good and a pang hits me in the center of my chest. Another one stabs even harder when I spot the cardboard box resting by his feet. I pull my ear buds out one at a time and the music fades away. I say, “Hi.”
“
I’m sorry about dropping by like this; but I have your stuff, and you wouldn’t answer the phone.”
I look down and see various Audrey
-type things in the box. A sweatshirt and a couple books are visible, also, a stuffed bear from our trip to the beach last summer. “Sorry about that. I needed some space.” I skirt past him and open the door. “Want to come in?”
He picks up the box before I can
and walks into the apartment. I take it from him and slide it on the kitchen table. We look at one another and I tilt my head. “Did you get new glasses?”
He touches the thinner
frames. “Yeah, last week.”
“They look good.”
“Thanks.” He taps his fingers on top of the cardboard and looks around the room. Nothing’s changed since he was here last. Except me. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.
I’m really glad you came by.”
I lead him
to the couch and I try my damnedest not to think about the last time he was here. The fiasco. I can’t help it though because he looks right on my couch. I’m the one that’s wrong.
“Audrey—“
“You know, why don’t you let me start?” I cut him off. “I should apologize to you for not calling back. It was rude and you deserve better than that. Obviously, I have a problem—“
He frowns.
“Aud, no.”
“Wait, hear me out. I have a problem, but I’m working on it. That night may have been my rock bottom, which you know what happens from there. You can only
go up. I’m really working on the up part and I’m making some serious strides. Small ones but still, I’m improving.” I say all of this to my hands that are clenched in my lap.
“That’s great.” He squeezes my knee. “I’m happy for you.”
I explain parts of the therapy to him. Not the Graham parts because I don’t think that will go over well; but I tell him about Dr. Markson and her ideas. “Part of my therapy is that I remain out of a relationship until the program is complete.”
“
I guess that makes sense, even if I don’t like it.”
I’m afraid to see his face, but I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He looks hopeful and I know that he still loves me.
He gave up everything to be with me once before. I have no doubt he’d do it again. “You don’t have to wait for me, Dylan.”
“No, I guess not, but I what if I want to?”
I can’t deny that his words thrill me a little. That Dylan’s willing to wait for me despite my flaws. Isn’t that what true love is about? Accepting people unconditionally? I know it’s why I looked past the shaky ground our relationship started on. “You’d do that for me?” I ask.
“
Ultimately, I want you to get healthy and happy, which I don’t think you really have been for a while.”
“No, I don’t think
so. The anxiety was getting bad; and it was definitely invading other parts of my life.”
“How is it now?
“It comes and goes, but I think that’s normal for the therapy. I’m really pushing myself mentally and physically.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me tight. The familiar twinge of anxiety isn’t there because sex is off the table. “You’re so strong. That’s what I love the most about you.”
Love. Not loved. I’m not sure how I feel about that; but who doesn’t want someone to love them? “And I love your patience and acceptance of me. It’s time though; it’s time I fix this for good.”
“Eh, what’s a couple of months?”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
-
Something flickers in his eye
, something I can’t grasp, probably the fear that I’ll crack again. He covers it with a smile and says, “For you? I’ll always be here.”
*
“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. A
re 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 s
tep, 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 he
r 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 i
f 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 confus
ion, 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.