The Therapist [Part 2]

I waited, nervously, for the elevator to reach her floor.

I had been thinking about this appointment for two entire weeks.

Well, not this appointment. Last appointment.

What she'd done had been...unethical. Right? It had. I was pretty sure it had? I should file a complaint.

But it had also been hot. Hot enough to make me cum in my pants, without even touching my cock. No complaints about that.

I had waffled on whether I'd return for the next session. It was unorthodox. But I really needed the help. In the end, my curiosity -- and the memory of my hands, squeezing her big tits through her bra -- had been enough to convince me at least one more appointment wouldn't hurt.

I took a deep breath and walked out of the elevator and into Stacy's office.

---

Like last time, she greeted me with a warm smile in the bright, airy reception area, and then led me back to her office. She was in the same outfit -- grey pencil skirt, white blouse tucked in to it.

She was just as hot as last time. As we went into her office, she sat behind her desk, and those bright red lips curved up into a smile. "I'm glad to see you came back, Phil. Statistically, the greatest drop-off is always between the first and second therapy appointments. People who come back a second time are incredibly likely to actually do the work to solve their problems."

Like last time, her approval felt good. I nodded enthusiastically.

"Now, it's been two weeks since you were last in. The last time, we did some clinical role-playing to get a sense of some of what might be behind this premature ejaculation problem you've been experiencing recently. And at the end of the appointment, I believe we arrived at some next steps. So how have things been with..." she glanced down at her notes, searching for my girlfriend’s name. "...Becca?"

"Well, I, uh..." I trailed off.

Stacy smiled sympathetically. "Phil, remember, this is a judgment-free zone. There's nothing you could tell me that I'm going to make you feel bad about, guilty about, or that will upset me. I'm here to help you work on this, and I'm in it for the long haul."

She leaned forward. It was impossible not to stare down her blouse. Today, the edge of a blue bra, pushing those soft tits together, was just visible. It almost precisely matched the color of her eyes -- which, as I looked back up, were staring into mine, encouragingly.

I blushed. I was a grown man and here I was staring down her top. She had watched me do it. Had made me cum in my pants last week. I felt like a teenager again.

I tried to pull myself together. "I...I know...it's just a little, y'know, awkward to talk about. I'm not sure where to start."

"Well, why don't I ask a few specific questions, then, Phil. My recommendation was to try to have intercourse with Becca..." she glanced at her notepad again. "...at least four or five times. Did you do that?"

I closed my eyes. It was all embarrassing.  "I, uh, tried. But, um, I wouldn't say we did, no."

"I see. And what happened?" Stacy looked encouragingly at me, her brows furrowed in interested curiosity.

There was no help for it but to dive in. "Well, I had told Becca I was going to see a therapist. I wasn't specific about why, but I said that it was to help me show up better in our relationship...." I waited to see if Stacy had a reaction to this.

She just nodded, and made a note. "Go on."

"...And so when I came back, she asked how it went. I said it went well, that you had suggested regular frequency of intimate encounters. Becca seemed kind of annoyed, like I had to be told to want to fuck her...um, and then I think at some point I said your name. She hadn't realized I was seeing a woman therapist, and I don't think she liked that."

Stacy's lips pursed. Another note. "Ah. I see."

"Well, then she pulled up your photo. I think she felt threatened by your, you know...looks. She was upset that I had spent time alone with an attractive woman. She claimed I had been very flustered when I first came home, said I must've been attracted to you or that we had done something..." I was blushing harder now. Becca had been pissed and, certainly, had a right to be; obviously, Stacy and I had done something.

But Stacy was just nodding, sympathetically. "I see. What happened then?"

We were getting to the most embarrassing part. I couldn't make eye contact with her; I was looking down at her desk, and blushing. "...Becca asked if I thought you were hot."

I quickly glanced up at her face and then back down again. She had one perfect eyebrow raised. "I see. What did you say in response, Phil? Remember, this is a safe space."

"Well, I said I thought you were objectively attractive, yeah, but that I didn't see why it mattered." I cringed, both at admitting to Stacy that I thought she was hot, but also just remember how pissed Becca had been. It had been the wrong thing to say.

I sighed, continuing. "And, well, Becca, uh, didn't like that much. She left and slammed the door. She's been giving me the cold shoulder. Sex -- uh, intimacy, that is -- hasn't been on the table since then."

Stacy put her pad down. I glanced up at her. She came around and sat down next to me. "It sounds like you weren't expecting to have a fight over this with her, were you?" Her voice was sympathetic, understanding.

"N-no..." My heart was beating fast -- the combination of her proximity and having admitted to her that I thought she was hot were intoxicating.

She was sitting very close to me. "Is there anything you wish you had done or said differently in that conversation, Phil?"

"I, uh..." I was finding it difficult to focus on her words. I looked down, staring at the way the skirt was riding up on her thighs, the long legs on display. I felt my body starting to respond. I hoped if I got an erection, it wouldn't be too obvious.

"For example, if I can make an observation..." she said the words softly, like she didn't want to interrupt whatever I was thinking about.

"Please," I said, grabbing onto the conversational lifeline. My mouth was dry. I could see even further down her blouse, I realized. Her tits really filled out that blue bra...I remembered what they had felt like in my hands, warm and full, how I had lost control immediately...I was definitely getting hard, now.

"It seems like she needed some reassurance that you found her desirable...that you didn't just want to have more sex with her because some therapist had suggested it," she said. Her mouth quirked up when she said some therapist, talking about herself. My gaze locked on those expressive red lips.

I nodded. "Y-yeah, I guess I probably should've focused on that..." I could feel that I was hard, now. I couldn't help it; she was just so fucking sexy.

She nodded, supportively. "So let’s practice. Why don't we try a little roleplaying, Phil. I'll be Becca. Let's try the conversation again. Look for opportunities to be reassuring, supportive, that kind of thing. Let me know when you're ready."

I blinked. "Role-playing? Uh, like last time...?"

She smiled, and shook her head. "Last time was clinical roleplaying to better understand what's been making you prematurely ejaculate. This is re-creating the conversation you had with Becca to let you try some words and approaches that might help it go differently -- in the hopes that that helps you going forward. It's similar, but the goals are different."

"Oh...I guess that makes sense. I...I'm ready when you are." I felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment. It didn't sound like this was going to be like last time. When I had cum in my pants feeling her tits.

She settled back in her chair, folding her arms in a defensive, irritated posture. It did remind me of Becca, actually.

"You've got to be kidding me, Phil. You want to fuck more often just because some therapist told us to?" She rolled her eyes.

Stacy's red lips forming the word fuck set my pulse racing again. It took me a moment to remember that we were role-playing. She was pretending to be Becca. I was supposed to try a different response. "N-no, that's not it...Becca. Stacy, she thinks that...that this will help our problem in the bedroom, and I really want to resolve that."

Stacy's red lips curved up into a teasing smile. "Your problem, you mean."

Fuck. It was exactly the kind of thing Becca might say. The kind of comment from her that got me hard fast, and made me cum even faster. I felt my cock twitch in my pants.

She continued before I could reply. "...And wait a minute...Stacy? You're seeing a woman for therapy?"

I nodded. "That's right...but she was really helpful..." Stacy really knew what she was doing, I thought. This was almost exactly how the conversation with Becca had gone. I started to relax, to think about what I could say differently this time. Maybe this would be helpful.

Stacy broke character to wink at me, and then pantomimed pulling out her phone and googling herself, and showing it to me, exaggerating Becca's irritated body language even further. "Ugh. Just what I thought -- she's hot, too. You're probably only listening to her because you want to fuck her."

Again, this was basically what Becca had said...only with Stacy, folding her arms like that emphasized her big tits. I tried to keep eye contact. "That...that's not it---"

But Stacy interrupted me, a scandalized note in her voice as she leaned towards me, her face only inches from mine, still using the irritated voice she had to imitate Becca. "Oh my god, Phil, are you hard?" She looked pointedly down at my crotch.

I froze.

I was, I realized, rock hard. I glanced down. My erection was creating a very obvious bulge, with a small stain on my pants from leaking precum at the peak. A wave of humiliation washed over me.

She kept going in the same scandalized tone. "You're hard from thinking about your therapist, aren't you?"

"N-no, I...Stacy...Becca..." I felt confused. Were we roleplaying still? Or was she actually upset?

"Oh my god, did you like telling your therapist about how you're a quick cummer for me?" Stacy's red lips curved up into a smile.

Roleplaying, I guess. My cock throbbed. I was sure I was leaking more, but I couldn't look away from Stacy to check. "That...no...I'm...it's from thinking about having sex with you more often, Becca. I--I really want to solve this, want to make us more intimate..." I blurted the words out. It was the only thing that came to mind.

Stacy scoffed but looked a little pleased. "I don't believe you. You totally want to fuck her. I mean, look at her...long blonde hair...big tits...that pretty face..."

I was staring at all of those attributes, openmouthed, speechless. I was too turned on. I did want to fuck her. The way she was talking was the kind of thing Becca had said...but this was Stacy, talking about herself.

"...She's too hot for you though. We both know you'd cum if she even touched your cock. I mean, you can't even last when I'm giving you a handjob." Stacy was smirking now.

"N-no, that's...I'm...it's not..." I wasn't sure what I was trying to disagree with anymore. My face heated. I was embarrassed, hopelessly disoriented. I couldn't tell if Stacy was smirking as Becca, or as herself, amused by how turned on I was.

"I bet you'll cum even faster than you usually do for me. Let's find out if I'm right..." Stacy said softly, a mocking note in her voice. Slowly, deliberately, her hand started slowly moving towards my crotch.

I didn't think I could handle it if she touched me. "Uh...j-just gimme a sec..." The words came out of my mouth as more of a whimper than a request. They had nothing to do with the roleplaying. If she kept going I'd cum in my pants.

"Why? Stacy wanted us to have sex more often, right? I mean, I guess if you don't want to..." She was breathing the words into my ear now, and I could feel the heat coming off her body.

I was completely overwhelmed; this felt wrong but I was so turned on by her proximity, there was no way I could say no. And I didn't want to cum in my pants again. "I...okay, I guess...just...just, uh take my cock out, St...uh, Becca..."

"Mmm...sure, babe...let's give you what the doctor ordered..." Her voice was teasing. I was staring at her face, only a few inches from mine. I gasped, feeling her unzip my pants, the cool air on my cock, and then her warm, soft touch on my throbbing length, as she wrapped one hand around my base, pulling my cock free. Not pumping, or jerking me off, or even rubbing me -- just holding my cock with one hand.

Stacy's hand. The orgasm was right there. I was on the verge of cumming, trying to fight it off.

Stacy laughed, a mocking sound. "Uh oh...I know that look...you're gonna cum. Quick, like you always do." She sighed, as if regretful. "Probably before you can even fuck me, like your hot therapist thinks you should..."

"No, I...just...need a minute," I said, shakily. I felt lightheaded, almost out of breath. I was trying to stave it off. It helped that she wasn't stroking me. It didn't help that her pretty face, red lips just inches from mine, was curved up into a teasing smile.

She leaned in, whispering in my ear. "Why? Is talking about your hot therapist going to make you cum?" I felt those full, red lips graze my ear, then the skin of my neck.

I flushed, humiliated. I opened my mouth to respond, to say something. Maybe to tell 'Becca' to stop talking about my therapist. Maybe to tell Stacy that I wanted to stop the roleplay, that this felt wrong, was too confusing.

I'm not sure, but it didn't matter. As I went to speak, she gently stroked her hand up the length of my cock, and then back down it, once, and giggled into my ear.

I moaned. "N-no, don't...wait...oh, fuck..." I tried to resist, but it was just more stimulation than I could take. With a groan, my hips bucked, and I started cumming, spraying a load onto myself. The orgasm was overwhelming, disorienting. Rope after rope of cum sprayed out onto my pants and shirt.

By the time my orgasm subsided and I looked up, Stacy had moved back to the other side of the desk. She slid the tissues across to me with a sympathetic smile. "I thought that went well, Phil."

"Uh, did it?" I reflexively took the tissues, blinking. And then I remembered to stuff my softening cock back into my pants, and to start trying to clean up as best I could. I felt dazed.. and completely humiliated.

She smiled, encouragingly. "Well, our little roleplay just now ended with intimacy with Becca, right? Not a fight."

"I...guess?" Was she serious? I didn't know what to think. First, she had...well, not jacked me off, exactly...but touched my cock. My therapist. While pretending to be my girlfriend. But second...I had cum so fast. She barely touched me.

"It's not a guess, Phil. It did. I could tell you were uncomfortable with roleplaying, but that's fine; this was your first time trying something like that in therapy. You'll get used to it. And even with that, you tried to reassure Becca."

Had I? Only in the most technical of senses. And...I'd get used to it?

"B-but...Becca was -- you were -- still, uh, teasing me, and I, uh..." I didn't even know how to put in words what had just happened.

She gave me a direct look. "Now, Phil. I can see you're feeling a bit embarrassed. I was roleplaying as Becca. You've told me she teases you, with predictable results. We knew that from the clinical evaluation last time you were here. The outcome is hardly surprising. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

She paused, her voice taking on a clinical monotone. "Phil, as I've mentioned, your case of premature ejaculation is pretty serious. It's going to take time, and the lack of intimacy with Becca over the last two weeks was something we needed to resolve to make any progress at all. Now -- before our next session, I want you to try to resume intimacy with Becca. Some level of frequency would be good. And remember, note how long you last, and whether there's anything specific she says or does that causes you to ejaculate prematurely. That will help us make progress in our subsequent sessions."

She paused, considering. "And just in case, so we're able to make some progress next week...if you're not able to consistently have sex with Becca, I encourage you to masturbate regularly. Same thing as when you have sex with Becca -- note how long you last, whether there's anything specific that prompts your ejaculation."

"Sure...uh, thanks, Stacy..." The juxtaposition threw me completely off balance.

Here she was, delivering this analysis, giving me 'homework.' She was kind, clinical. But the 'homework' was to fuck my girlfriend or masturbate and track what was making me cum, how long I was lasting, so I could tell her about it next time.

And here I was, trying my best to use tissues to clean my own cum off my clothes, to get as presentable as I could before I left her office.

"Of course, Phil. See you in a few weeks." She smiled at me as I stood to leave.

I walked out the door. Was I going to be this confused after every appointment?