The Therapist [Part 3]

"So, as I recall you had some homework from last appointment..." Stacy was flipping back through a legal pad.

Here I was. Back again. Feeling -- like always, when I was in her office -- a little discombobulated.

I had almost canceled this appointment. It didn't feel like I had made progress in the intervening weeks, and even though Stacy had said she wouldn't make me feel bad or ever judge...well, I was judging myself. It was embarrassing.

But in the end, the memory of her hand, wrapped around my cock, as she giggled in my ear, had outweighed that by a mile. It had been so hot. I watched her hands -- remember how soft, talented they had felt -- as she flipped back through her legal pad. My gaze wandered to her body -- white blouse, grey pencil skirt, long blonde hair, just like last week. Fuck, even from the other side of her desk, I could see her cleavage in that blouse...

I realized she was looking up at me from the other side of her desk, one eyebrow raised. "Phil? The homework?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." I flushed. "Becca hasn't wanted to be, uh, intimate. So we didn't have intercourse. But I did time myself masturbating..."

I trailed off as she held up a hand. "Huh, okay. Let's pause there and talk about the lack of intimacy for a moment. Did you try the approach we practiced in the roleplay last appointment? Being reassuring, supportive? How was that received?"

I winced. "It, uh...I mean, I think she liked it...I don't think she's that mad anymore. I think the basic issue is how fast I've been, y'know, finishing, and her, um...lack of satisfaction. I don't think she sees a reason to make it a priority."

Stacy pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I see. I want to make sure the focus of our time is addressing your premature ejaculation, but let's discuss this for a moment. How do you feel about Becca as a partner, Phil?"

I winced again. Hearing her say the words premature ejaculation always gave me a spike of shame. "She...I mean, I like being intimate with her..."

Stacey smiled, a little ruefully. "I meant more generally. Is she supportive of you? Do you like her as a person? Do you think she likes you as a person? Do you feel...wanted?"

I blinked. "I...you know, a couple months back I would've said yes, but now..." I shrugged, sadly. "It's hard to say, sometimes."

She nodded, encouragingly. "I can imagine. When you talk about her behaviors, I'm not hearing a lot of kindness in the way she treats you."

I was silent, mulling that over. She had a point.

She gave me a moment to consider that before continuing. "That might be something to think more about over time, but let's refocus for now. You were saying that while you weren't intimate, you had masturbated, which was my suggestion if intimacy wasn't an option. So tell me about that."

I blushed. I was never going to get used to sitting across from this hot blonde woman, talking frankly about my penis. "Well, I, uh...I took care of myself every other day or so, probably."

Stacy made a note. "To completion, each time?"

I nodded, and she made another note.

"And how long did it take, each time, for you to achieve orgasm?"

I was blushing harder, now, and I looked down. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

She was silent a moment, and then I heard her get up and come around to sit next to me.

"Phil," she said, gently. "It's okay. You're here to address your premature ejaculation problem. I imagine you didn't last long. This isn't a test that you're going to pass or fail, it's just giving me some information so we can make some progress this session."

I nodded. I was getting hard in spite of the shame I was feeling...or perhaps because of it, and her closeness. I glanced over, could see the swell of her breasts down her blouse, the tops of her thighs...

"Now...how long did it take for you to achieve orgasm?" She said the words softly. Not a whisper, but close. I looked up, to realize she was staring at me, blue eyes meeting mine, one eyebrow raised.

"Um...between one and two minutes each time," I said. Fuck. It had felt embarrassing as hell while it was happening, jacking off and feeling the orgasm right on top of me almost immediately. But it was more embarrassing telling Stacy about it.

"I see." She put a hand on my thigh, near my knee, all gentle sympathy. But I was conscious of how close her hand was to my now-hard cock. I could feel the warmth radiating off her body, could smell her perfume -- floral and rich.

"Is...is that...um, bad? It's bad, right?" I was blushing.

She shook her head, smiling. "There aren't good or bad durations of sex or masturbation, Phil." She pulled away, sitting back. "But I can see it makes you feel bad, which is why we're working to address it. Now, I'd like to spend some time today observing your technique and discussing what appears to be triggering your orgasm. That'll help me to continue to better-understand the causes. She reached around her desk and started rummaging through a drawer.

"...My technique?" I had a feeling I knew what that meant.

A feeling that was confirmed as she set a bottle of lube on the desk near me.

"That's right. At your convenience, go ahead and begin masturbating for me, please." She sat back, expectantly.

I flushed. It felt...weird, but, admittedly, only a bit weird. After all, I had cum twice in this office already, once because she had been touching my cock. "I, uh...okay..."

She smiled. "No need to feel self-conscious. This is just another clinical exercise that will help us address your premature ejaculation."

I felt another spike of shame as I realized that I was already hard -- that she would know that as I undressed. But slowly, I unbuttoned my pants, pulled them down, and then pulled my boxers down as well, revealing my cock.

Stacy made a note on her legal pad. I blushed. What was she writing down? My size? That I was hard already?

She smiled again, all encouraging kindness. "Phil, I'm just observing and making sure I have notes to refer back to. Pretend like I'm not here."

"Uh, right...okay..." That was going to be difficult, I reflected. I squeezed some lube onto my hand, and slowly lubricated my cock, and then started stroking.

For a few moments, the only sound was my slick hand, moving as I pumped my hard cock. I was finding the situation...pretty hot, I realized. Stacy, fully clothed, sitting a few feet away, dressed in that blouse and pencil skirt, watching closely as I jerked off. I felt myself get more aroused as I thought about the situation. I felt a momentary stab of guilt, thinking about Becca -- but this wasn't cheating, not really. It was...clinical, I told myself. Like Stacy had said. It was to help me fix this issue for Becca.

And god, Stacy was sexy.

"Is this a typical tempo of strokes, for you?" Stacy asked. There wasn't any judgment in her voice, but I still flushed. Was I...going too slow?

"Uh...I...I guess, yeah...is it okay?" I glanced up at her. She was staring at my cock as I pumped it. As I watched, she crossed her legs. I stared at her smooth thighs as they flexed.

She laughed. It was, I realized, perhaps the first time I had heard her laugh -- not a teasing giggle because she was pretending to be Becca, full of affected cruelty, deliberately intended to mock me -- a real, genuine laugh. It was throaty, rich, sultry. It was hot. My cock twitched in response.

"Phil. There aren't good and bad speeds to masturbate at either." She made another note on her pad. "But right now, for this I'd like to see you speed up. Hard, fast strokes. And let me know when you get close to an orgasm."

"S-sure..." This was impossibly hot now, her telling me how to jack off, what she wanted. I sped up. Maybe this was how Stacy liked to get fucked, I thought. Hard, fast. She had said something about that in our first appointment, hadn't she?

Well, once that idea was in my head, a fantasy began to take hold. My breathing was starting to get shallow, thinking about what it would be like to fuck her at this pace. Bending her over her desk, maybe. I wouldn't last long doing that, I knew...she'd have that knowing smile on her face, be pushing back into me...maybe she'd tease me like she had been during one of our last appointments, or maybe she'd be impressed, surprised by how I fucked...

I could feel the orgasm rising in me. "I, uh, I'm..."

She cut in, smoothly, recrossing her legs as she spoke. "Yes, I can tell. Why don't you stop stroking for a moment, Phil."

Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away.

Stacy made another note. "That seemed like it happened quickly. Was it how fast you were stroking?"

"I, uh, yeah...it felt really good..." I stammered the words out. I knew I was blushing. She didn't sound disappointed, but I felt a little ashamed anyway.

"Were you thinking about anything specific as your orgasm got closer?"

There was something in her voice that made me look up. Her expression was mostly neutral, but I thought I could see the corner of her mouth turned up in a slight, knowing smile.

I felt my cock twitch. "Um, I guess..."

She broke into a bigger smile. "Phil, it's natural. You're masturbating right in front of me, and I'm an attractive woman, right? It's okay that you were thinking about me."

My face burned. It must've been really obvious. I had certainly been staring. I just nodded.

"Is that what you have been thinking about while you were masturbating at home the last few weeks?"

"I, uh..." I didn't want to admit it, but, of course I had spent a lot of time thinking about Stacy.

She leaned forward, her cleavage drawing my gaze. "What are you thinking about now, Phil?" Her voice was still soft, inviting. My cock throbbed. What was I going to say -- that I was thinking about what her tits would feel like around my cock? That didn't feel...clinical.

My eyes were locked on her inviting cleavage, full breasts pushed together by a black bra. I didn't answer her question.

After a moment, she just continued. Her voice was almost hypnotic, now. "That was good to establish a baseline. Now, we're going to do some practice with your triggers, Phil. I'm going to tease you, the way Becca does. Whatever I say, whatever I do, I want you to keep stroking, but do not cum."

She paused, letting the point sink in. "I want you to last as long as you can. Do you understand? This will help desensitize you to the teasing that seems to give you trouble. We'll try for..." she reached over and pulled a small digital timer from one of her drawers. "...three minutes, to start." She pushed a few buttons on it and set it on the desk next to us.

I glanced at the timer. 3:00 blinked back at me.

Her red lips curved into an inviting smile. "Let me know when you're ready, Phil."

If I was being honest, I knew there was no way I could last three minutes. I hadn't lasted three minutes masturbating at any point in the last two weeks. There was no way I'd do it now, with Stacy in front of me teasing me.

But I was too turned on to think, to care. What I wanted now was to get off with her watching. "I'm ready."

She pushed a button, the timer beeped, and started counting down. I didn't need any encouragement. I started stroking again.

"You're so eager," she observed. I blinked. Her voice was mocking, now, nothing like the gentle, sympathetic tone she had earlier. "Maybe that's why you're such a quick cummer."

I felt the blood rush to my face. I knew I was blushing. I didn't respond.

"You know, you didn't answer earlier, but I bet you've been thinking about me while you've been jerking off, haven't you?" she leaned forward, as if interested. "What do you think about, mostly, Phil?"

"I, uh..." I found that I couldn't look away from her red lips, which moved into a sultry, mocking smile as she saw my stare. As I watched, she ran her tongue over them.

"Did you think about me sucking that cock, Phil?" She brought her pen to her lips, and ran the end teasingly along her bottom lip.

"S-sometimes, y-yeah..." I felt disoriented, and the words came out in a stammer. Hearing her talk dirty -- the shift from sympathetic therapist to confident tease -- made it hard to think. I knew, dimly, that I was stroking faster than when I had started.

"Sometimes? Which times? The times when you came in sixty seconds, or the times when that cock made it two whole minutes without exploding?" Her tone made it clear that she didn't think much of either duration.

I didn't know what to say. I just stared at her mouth, jerking off.

She ran one hand through her long blonde hair, absentmindedly. "To be honest, most guys don't really last long enough for me to enjoy myself when I'm going down on them. I like to be thorough. Little licks, to start. Kisses on the head and shaft. Nuzzling the balls. And then, once they're all warmed up, really going to town, working the head and shaft into my mouth and down my throat..." As she spoke, she pantomimed each action -- pink tongue extended to give little licks, pursuing her lips together as if kissing a cock and nuzzling against it, and then, using both hands and her mouth, demonstrating how she'd give a blowjob.

It was unbelievably hot. I hadn't had her right in front of me when I'd jerked off the past few weeks. I was getting close to cumming, I knew.

She kept talking. "...Well, they just can't handle it. I think there's something about my technique that surprises them. Maybe they think a pretty, confident woman like me doesn't usually go down on guys? But they'd be wrong. I like doing it."

My cock was twitching in my hand. I glanced at the timer. 2:42. 2:41. 2:40. It had been twenty seconds. I should slow down. I tried, but my heart wasn't in it -- I was fixated on those lips, the way she was talking.

"Do you think you'd cum fast if I was giving you a blowjob?" she asked, teasingly. "Or would you try to last? I mean, with how quickly you cum for your hand...maybe I'd just give you a few kisses, or my just get my mouth close to your sensitive cock...and you'd explode."

I made a sound. The part of me that wasn't focused on her mouth realized it was a whimper. I was trying to contain my arousal, dangerously close to cumming. I glanced at the clock. 2:30. 2:29.

"Aw...are you having trouble already? But it's only been thirty seconds..." Her lips formed a disappointed pout. Fuck. Feeling ashamed, I forced myself to slow down my strokes.

"When you jack off and cum thinking about me, Phil..." she paused, a wicked smile on her face, now. "Where do you think about blowing your load?"

"I, uh...I don't know..." I could barely think to form words.

"Mmm...you've probably fantasized about all kinds of things, haven't you? Maybe cumming all over my long legs...on my ass...all over my big tits..."

"Yes..." I moaned the word out. I had sped up again, I realized, feeling the orgasm rising. I slowed my strokes down again.

"If you had to pick one place...that would be hottest...where would you cum?"

The answer came out of me reflexively. "Y-your face..."

She let out a mock gasp. "Phil! You'd spray a big load all over my pretty face? I bet that would make you feel dominant, wouldn't it? Would it feel good, putting me in my place, seeing me kneeling in front of you covered in your cum? My, your therapist would have a field day with that..." she giggled.

I couldn't respond. Not only had I sped up my strokes again, I realized that I was on the cusp of a massive orgasm. I stopped stroking, my hand just resting on my cock, and tried to get it under control.

"I'll tell you what, Phil. Some added incentive. If you can make it the full three minutes...I'll let you cum on my face. Like this." As she spoke, she smoothly got down on her knees, looking up at me, and with a smirk, she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. She was the perfect picture of a woman begging for a load -- besides the mocking, knowing look that I could still see in her eyes.

"G-god..." I groaned. The slightest stimulation was going to make me cum. I slowed down my stroking even further, breaking eye contact with her to look over at the clock. 2:18...2:17...but my attention was pulled back to her.

Fuck, she was hot, and I wanted to cum so badly. I couldn't help it, I risked a short, gentle stroke. Moaning, I fought off the orgasm.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just spraying a big load all over my face..." she was staring at my cock now, only inches away. She licked her lips. "I've seen how much you cum...it would get everywhere, wouldn't it? You'd cover me...if you can last..."

Well, the way she was talking, I couldn't help it. With that image in mind, I risked another stroke.

Feeling slightly panicked, I realized immediately it had been a mistake; it was too much.

"I--I...I--can't ---" I moaned as I felt myself tip over the edge.

With a cruel laugh, she stood up and stepped away -- just as I started cumming. Moaning, I pumped my cock, spraying a load out onto the floor of her office.

As usual, when I regained my composure, she was behind her desk again. She was smiling sympathetically. "You did pretty well, Phil. I didn't expect you to make it the full three minutes, not with that kind of teasing. And I saw you trying to control yourself."

"Oh...uh, okay, thanks, I guess..." As usual, I felt out of sorts. I began using the tissues on her desk to clean up. The shame of the situation came crashing home to me, now -- she hadn't touched me, had just been talking to me and teasing me -- and I hadn't even lasted a full minute.

She must've heard something in my voice. "Forty-five seconds with visual stimulation and teasing like that is pretty good if you're only lasting two minutes when you masturbate alone, Phil! I've had some men who ejaculate much more quickly."

"Uh...sure..." The numbers didn't sound pretty good. And...there was that phrasing, again. I've had some men. Not clients, or patients. I started dressing.

I found myself focused on one question: if I had lasted three minutes, would she actually have let me cum on her face? That seemed out-of-bounds for therapy. But...this whole approach seemed out of bounds. I opened my mouth to ask...well, I wasn't sure what, but it didn't matter; she spoke first.

"Now. Here's the homework for next time. Two assignments. I don't want you to try to initiate any intimacy with Becca. Instead, focus on a date night or two. If sex happens, that's fine. But unless she demonstrates she's interested, I want you to let it alone."

That advice, at least, seemed to make sense. I nodded. "What's the second assignment?"

"When you masturbate, I want you to focus on getting the duration higher. Two and a half, maybe three minutes. We can check in on that at the next appointment." Was I just imagining it, or did her mouth quirk up into a smile?

I blushed, but the advice made sense again. "Okay. Um, thanks, Stacy." I stood up to leave.

"And, Phil..." she spoke the words as I was just at the door. I turned around and glanced back at her.

Her mouth definitely had a knowing smile on it, now. "Make sure you try to keep the erotic fantasies consistent when you masturbate. That way we know any improvements in duration are the result of your control improving, and not just because you're thinking about something...less stimulating."

She was telling me to keep thinking about her while I jacked off. I nodded, beet red again, and left.

I had one thought as I got in the elevator. I was a little embarrassed that it had taken this long for it to occur to me. In my defense, I had been very distracted. But once it took hold, I found it inescapable.

Was Stacy actually a therapist?

Maybe I had some additional homework to do.