Cuck Therapy Pt. 03

"Come on," I said. "This is just games. You didn't come right out and say it, but I can read between the lines."

Brunder nodded.

"I'm not your accuser, John, I am your counselor. What we are doing her is trying to achieve the kind of honesty that is necessary to moving towards a better, more trusting and fulfilling relationship for you two. It takes work to be honest with each other, but maybe even more work to be honest with ourselves. To see ourselves as we are. I can't see into your mind, John. That's not my role. My role, in part, is to help guide you towards an understanding of yourself. To do that, we have to look at the facts before us and not deny them."

"What facts?"

"Yes, very good - let's get back on track. So you come home, and - as always, do not let me make false assumptions: correct me when I'm wrong, please. So you come home from your first session here, and you are extraodinarily aroused. You are excited to fuck your wife. She waits at the car, and at some point you realize she is offering you the chance to fuck her as her lover did, and to show you everything they did on that first encounter. Now, you've already heard it all, and you can choose to decline her invitation, and tell her to come to bed, but that was not your decision. Those are facts, but how do we interpret them? One possibility is that perhaps you want to enable her to re-experience her first sexual encounter with her lover."

"That's not what it was."

"Okay. That's an interpretation we can put aside, then. Another possibility is that you had a sexual need to visualize her sexual encounter with her lover. That you wanted to, in the most immediately available way, watch your wife have sex with another man. That this is essentially a voyeuristic motivation."

"Wrong," I said.

"Okay. Should we move on to another interpretation of these facts, John?'

"Sure."

"Do you have one for us?" she asked.

"Me? You're the expert."

"Indeed. And as the expert, I think, in absence of better guess for now, we should perhaps look further into the possibility that the motivation was voyeuristic. You didn't at any time during that encounter try to envision Lisa sucking and fucking her lover's cock rather than yours? You didn't try to picture what that looked like?"

I had no response.

"You didn't at any time enjoy the experience of imagining how much more she responded to his much larger cock penetrating her? Can you tell me it didn't turn you on immensely, imagining your wife's pleasure during intercourse with him? When you came in her, did you not imagine him doing likewise?"

She let me squirm.

"It doesn't mean I am glad she did it," I said.

"Again, I never said it did. But we need to face our feelings, John. I'm not shaming you. When I say, "no shame" - that doesn't just go for Lisa. It goes for you, too. There is no need for you to be ashamed of your sexual needs."

She let that sink in a moment. I felt Lisa's eyes on me but held Brunder's gaze.

"So, to return to the outburst you had just prior to orgasm, no, I don't think it was anger that prompted it. What was it again that you said?" She turned to her notes and read, 'You liked it didn't you? You fucking loved it when he fucked you with his big fucking cock. You little slut.' That doesn't read as anger to me. It's expressed in the vocabulary of patriarchal policing and shaming of female sexual desire, but we can only speak the languages that we've been taught."

"So," Lisa spoke up. "If it wasn't anger, what was it?"

"Sometimes the simplest answer is the correct one. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. He was asking you if you enjoyed having sex with another man." Brunder shrugged. "He already knew the answer, of course. He just wanted you to tell him again, as he was getting ready to cum."

Brunder looked at both of us. Lisa looked at me.

"Or maybe you don't know what you are talking about," I said to Brunder.

"It's not possible that the pleasure your wife took in having sex with another man is a turn on for you, John? It's not possible that you get aroused not just by the fact that she did it, but, and perhaps more precisely, that she enjoyed it?"

"I'm not some kind of freak."

"No. You are not. And we are going to work on resolving your anxiety about being perceived that way. That will go a long way to repairing the damage your relationship together has suffered."

"Our relationship hasn't been damaged because I have anxiety. It's been damaged because she couldn't keep her fucking legs together."

Brunder leaned back and eyed me cooly.

I sighed.

"I know, no blaming or shaming," I sighed.

She nodded.

"Not just for Lisa's sake, John, but for your own. When use blame and shame towards others, we are very often projecting, or trying to redirect what we feel about ourselves. You're not letting Lisa off the hook by forgiving her, John. When you forgive yourself, you will forgive her."

"Yeah, okay. Fine."

Brunder moved on, ignoring my dismissive tone.

"Now, back to the outburst. Lisa, as I was saying, it's very possible that, while the question was presented in anger, it was not rhetorical, but rather sincere. Especially given the context. I think if it happens again, rather than giving in to your reflex towards remorse, you should instead answer any questions he has for you sincerely. Even if the question seems intended to shame you - ignore that shame, for it is probably only his own shame for himself."

"Jesus Christ," I said. "I am not ashamed of myself. I was angry. I don't get off on... whatever."

"What is 'whatever,' John?" Brunder asked.

I shrugged.

"That audio recording - you still have it? Why, John? Why have you not deleted it? How many times have you masturbated to the sounds of your wife enjoying the experience of sex with another man? How many times, John?"

I didn't say anything.

"Let's just say more than once then, yes? Why?"

"I told you - when a man's mate has -"

"Do you ever wish you could have seen them fucking? Watched them?"

I glared at her.

"I'm not trying to shame you John. Quite the opposite. But we need to ask each other and ourselves questions that are hard to answer. Precisely those questions that are hard to answer."

She waited a moment.

"Have you wished you had a video instead of just audio?" Her eyes went to Lisa. "Are there any videos, by the way?" she asked.

Lisa was staring at the floor. She swallowed.

"Um, no..."

"Lisa?" Brunder prompted.

We were all silent as we waited for her to spit it out.

Lisa sighed. "Not anymore. He... he made a few."

I stared at her. Lisa's eyes darted to mine, then away. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

"They're... sexually explicit? Graphic?" Brunder asked. Lisa nodded at the floor. "You don't have any copies?" asked Brunder.

Lisa shook her head.

"I was terrified of getting caught with them. After we ended things, I asked him to delete them. He did."

Brunder nodded and leaned back.

"How did you leave it with Mark? Are you still friends?"

"Well, I guess, yeah. He was disappointed when I told him we had to stop, but, I mean we work together sometimes. We get along fine."

Brunder's eyes went to mine.

"John, I expect you'd like to watch those videos very much, no?"

I couldn't form words.

"Lisa could just request copies and they'd be yours. Would you like that?"

"He deleted them," Lisa repeated.

"Not a chance. He still has copies," Brunder said, her eyes still on me. "What do you think, John? I think it would advance our progress tremendously if you would have Lisa get a copy of those videos so you could watch them. Among other things it would help dispell the gulf of information that divides you two. It would leave fewer gaps for you to have to fill in with your imagination."

"Jesus. Are you fucking serious? My wife is never going to talk to him about those videos again. Or anything like it."

"So you do wish you could watch to them, then?"

"No. Fuck. Anyway, what would she say to him? 'Hey, Mark - can I get a copy of those videos you made of us fucking? My husband wants to watch them.'"

"You are being sarcastic, but I think that would be an excellent approach. We need to get you over your shame - and owning your desires, especially to others, by acknowledging them and expressing them is an excellent step to self-acceptance."

"You're crazy," I said.

"If you are not ready for that, Lisa could just tell him that she would like them for her own enjoyment. Which probably is also true. It's better not to lie. When we lie we are expressing to the world that our shame is justified."

I just stared at her.

"You don't want to see them, John," Lisa said quietly.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Brunder said, still looking at me. Then she leaned back and looked at both of us.

"In any case, don't reach out to Mark for them until John asks you to."

Until. She was so fucking certain of herself.

Lisa nodded.

Brunder leaned back.

"As a matter of fact, John, I don't want you to watch them until your or Lisa has consulted with me. We need to carefully consider what therapeutic role those videos should play. Lisa, once John asks you to get them, text me and we'll discuss next steps, okay? You have my number."

Lisa nodded.

"Okay. We're almost out of time. This week, I want you, Lisa, to divulge as much as possible to John about your affair. In detail. We need to demystify it and kill every secret that separates you. Given the number of sexual encounters you had, it may take a while, but try to get through as much as you can without being shy with the details, okay? For today, you can do so in the context of a sexual role play if you like. After today, John, I want you to just masturbate while she recounts her encounters. Don't even touch her. Lisa, if you want you can masturbate while you tell him or not. It's up to you. Okay?"

Lisa nodded. Brunder waited for me.

"Okay, John?"

"You're telling me not to fuck my wife now?"

"For six days, John. Is your marriage worth it?"

I sighed, and then nodded.

"And no pornography for now, okay? This is important. No pornography of any kind. Okay?" She waited for my nod. "Okay."

___

As soon as we were home, she had me against the door, frantically unbuckling me, and then eagerly sucking my aching, grateful cock.

On the drive home, she'd told me about everything leading up to her second encounter with him. Texts back and forth, the struggle with her conscience. She'd wanted to say no to his request to meet at his house the following week, but her body ached for it.

"I felt horrible because of what I had done," she had said. "I love you. I love our marriage. But it was... very satisfying, what he did to me. I mean, I'm sorry, but... I didn't know sex could be like that. I wanted it again. I hated myself for it, but I wanted it again. I rationalized that I'd treat myself to one... you know... evening with him where we could take our time in bed, instead of just a quickie in a back seat, and then I'd be done with it. That would be it -my one transgression in life. Everybody gets one, right?"

At the time, she had given me some excuse about a day trip with her friend Delores.

"I kissed you goodbye, and then I sped over there. I almost got into an accident taking my panties of while I was driving. Should I take them off now, John? Do you want me like I was then?"

Of course I had nodded.

And now here we were, and I was receiving the best blowjob of my life, as my wife recreated for me how she had treated her lover.

I moaned as she slid her hand up between my legs, between my ass cheeks, as she bobbed hungrily, sloppily, on my cock. She took her mouth off it, spat on it (that was new), and stroked it firmly as she looked up at me.

We locked eyes and she nodded.

"I was so fucking eager for it, John. I just wanted to have his cock in my mouth and make him as hard as I could as fast as I could. I wanted him to slide that big fucking cock inside me. I was fucking aching for it."

I grabbed her hand and stopped her stroking. I almost came anyway.

"'Take me bed,' I said to him. 'I need you to fuck me so bad.'"

I nodded. She stood up and headed up the stairs, taking her shirt off along the way. I stepped out of my pants and followed her, removing the remainder of my clothes.

In the bedroom, she turned and kissed me, now only in her skirt. She stroked me and I put my hand up her skirt. She was soaked.

She went to the bed and lay down on her back.

I got between her legs and lifted her skirt up.

"He wanted to lick my pussy," she continued. "I told him I wanted to skip the foreplay. I told him I needed him to fuck me right away - I was ready. I asked him if he was ready. If he'd like that."

Lisa nodded at me, still eying me.

"Are you ready? Do you want to fuck me?"

I nodded. And then I positioned myself at her pussy. I pressed against her.

"Yeah, baby, shove it in. I need your big fucking cock - I've been aching for it all week."

She grabbed my ass and pulled. I slid easily into her sopping wet pussy. We both moaned. I paused a moment, savouring her.

I slowly slid in and out of her. Watching my dick move in out of her slick hole.

"He liked to look at my pussy too, baby. He loved to watch himself fuck me."

I tried to make my strokes as long as I could, the ridge of my nob emerging, and then spreading her opening as it re-entered. I imagined him watching his own cock doing this to my wife's pussy. Stretching it much more, sliding in much longer.

I moaned.

"Oh fuck," she moaned urgently.

I looked at her.

"He said, 'Jesus, are you ready to go already?' I told him to shut up and go just a little faster."

I did and she let out a frantic moan and wrapped her legs around me.

It was fake. Her body didn't respond like that to me. It made me feel foolish.

I stopped, half-way in her.

"What's wrong?" she asked me.

"I can't...."

"What?"

"I can't get you off like him," I said.

She sat up a little.

"Oh, baby, don't worry about me," she said, and put her hand to my face. "I thought... I thought you'd enjoy watching what he did to me. Don't you like it?"

I nodded.

"It's just... don't fake it. Just tell me what you felt."

She nodded. "Okay."

Her pussy gyrated slowly on my cock as she took a moment to re-assess.

"Okay. Look," she said, grabbing my ass and pulling me fully into her. She was raised up on one elbow, looking down at my cock in her pussy. "This? This is kind of what it was like when he was like this - " she slowly pushed me back until I was almost popping out of her. "When he was like that, with that much outside of me? He already had, like, the length of your full dick inside me."

I looked down at the length of me, my nob just buried in her. I was throbbing.

"Go ahead and watch him stroke the rest of his big cock into me," she said softly. "Go slow."

I looked back down again at my cock and watched myself slowly push it in, imagining how deeply he must have reached inside her. I pulled it out slowly and pushed it back in again, and looked at her. She nodded.

"So much fucking cock, baby," she said softly.

I watched myself fuck her some more, conscious that his strokes would have taken twice as long as he slid himself slowly in and out of my wife.

"And, baby," she said, waiting for me to look at her. I did. "He was so fucking thick. " She looked down at my cock. "I loved watching him like this. Watching his big cock fucking stretch me out. How it seemed like forever sliding all that sexy, masculine cock into me. Oh... fuck. You feel good, baby, you do. But, with him... It was like, as soon as he slid that big, thick fucking thing into me... it was like... oh, fuck, okay... the countdown to me cumming on his fucking cock starts immediately."

Involuntarily, my pace quickened.

"Go slow, baby," she chided me. "He loved to watch me approach climax just from him slow-fucking me like this. He'd wait until my body started trembling, and I was moaning and begging for it, and then he'd finally let me have it a little harder."

She was still raised up on one elbow, grabbing me behind the neck for support as we both watched. She kissed me and then looked back down at her pussy, and my cock thrusting into it.

"I begged him to fuck me harder, and then he finally started fucking me real hard."

I moaned, and started slamming her for all I was worth. She fell back on the bed now, watching me as I fucked her, her sexy tits jiggling.

"I came all over his dick, baby," she said calmly, looking me in the eye. "I fucking creamed all over him."

I had never made her cream on my dick. I looked at her pussy and imagined her creaming all over his big cock as he jack-hammered her. I heard her moans and squeals in my head from the audio recording of them.

I looked back up at her face, she was staring at me with an inscrutable expression.

"You're fucking glad you did it? Aren't you?" I spat as I rammed her harder.

Lisa's eyes stayed on mine. She nodded slowly, deliberately.

"So fucking glad," she said. "I wouldn't change it for anything."

I started ramming her real hard then, approaching orgasm.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned, smiling, staring me in the eye. She nodded. "I loved it, John - letting him do whatever he wanted to me. I was his little slut."

I almost managed not to grunt as I started spurting into her.

She moaned softly, watching me cooly as I had the most intense orgasm of my life.

"Oooo," she cooed sexily, gyrating her pussy around my spurting cock, "Oh, you do like that, don't you, baby?"

As my orgasm subsided, our hips softly undulated together, my softening cock being stroked gently by her now cum-filled vagina. I thought of them doing this. Her and lover. Post-coital in his bed. His big cock being lubed and stroked by his own cum, and her cream, deep inside her cunt, much deeper, her body more thankful.

I rolled off and lay on my back.

Lisa turned to me, and put her hand on my chest. She kissed my ear as I stared at the ceiling.

"Was that the best one so far for you, John?" she asked.

I didn't say anything.

"It seemed like," she said softly.

She kept stroking my chest for a while and then her hand went down to my crotch and gathered my cock and balls up and she gave it all an affectionate squeeze.

I tried to enjoy some post-ejaculatory peace, but almost immediately my mind drifted to a subject it couldn't detach itself from.

Some fucking prick has videos of himself fucking my wife.

I knew what they'd be like. Shakey hand-held cellphone vids as he banged her from various positions in shitty lighting. Blow jobs. Cheap POV crap you can watch all day online.

Except that this was my wife getting her pussy reamed by another man's cock and, maybe - probably - being vocal about loving it.

Christ, I thought. What is this obsession? What is this sickness?

Did he show his friends? I felt there must definitely be other men he had to have shown them to. She'd said he was vain. How could he not show himself off - stuffing a hot, married slut with his big fucking cock while she moaned and squealed the way I'd heard her on the audio tape?

I couldn't stop thinking about what her pussy looked like, or her face for that matter, when he stretched her out with his big fucking prick.

"Jesus," Lisa breathed in my ear. "You're getting hard again already."

She took her hand off me to bring it to her mouth and spit in it and then she rubbed the saliva into my dick, making it slick and slippery. She had never done that before him - spitting. She would have worried about it seeming vulgar. Now she did it without thinking.

She breathed a languid, hot, sigh on my neck.