Dr. White's Code of Sluts Ch. 01 Pt. 02

This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author's consent. For fans of my stories, they know what kinds of things to expect. This story deals with similar themes as the stories by wannabeboytoy, seducedHylas, and Dark Betrayal, namely cheating, betrayal, and heartbreak. If stuff like that isn't your cup of tea, then you probably shouldn't bother reading it. I do not condone any of these actions in real life. This is just a story. Enjoy.

Also, this is a continuation of a story that begun in my story "Hurricane Gina". While it's not necessary to read that one before this one, it would provide some added context, I'm sure.

***********

(Two Days Later)

(Eddie)

I was bouncing my foot on the carpeted floor of the lobby of Dr. White's office. I had told my wife that I had a work meeting that was going late, so as to not let her know that I was meeting with Dr. White without her knowing. She'd had her appointment the day before, and I was somewhat nervous that she'd come home having found out I was meeting with her sex therapist behind her back. Uh... it sounds bad putting it like that. It wasn't some salacious, secret meeting. It was a private appointment to work out some things.

That being said, I still did feel bad about not being able to tell Annie about this. Not just the keeping a secret thing, but... me not being as far along with things as I should be as a married man. If I were a better man, I wouldn't need to be here. If I had been more discerning as a younger man, I wouldn't be in this position.

Suddenly, the door across from me opened up, and there stood Dr. White. Seeing her again after the turmoil of seeing her a few days prior... the mere sight of her made me hold my breath. Luckily, she was dressed about how I expected her to be. A black, stylish, professional business suit, a black suit coat and a slim, matching knee-length skirt. Her exposed calves were covered with black stockings, leading down to expensive looking heels. Up top, beneath her coat, was a satiny red button-up top that flattered her body. And it was there that I noticed the only vestige of what I'd seen two days prior, a few buttons left undone, showing just a hint of the expansive cleavage I knew was there. Not to a level that might be considered unprofessional, of course, but now that I knew what she was working with, it was hard for me not to notice. I then looked up at her gorgeous smiling face, her chestnut hair cascading down her shoulders, her glasses adding an air of intellectualism that was, let's just say, not present two days prior.

"C'mon back, Eddie," she said warmly. Smiling and nodding, I stood up and moved to comply. As I did, she turned to glance at her receptionist, Ashley, the only other person in the room.

"Ash, you can take off. I'll close up," Dr. White told her.

"You sure?" Ashley asked, seemingly a bit surprised.

"It's late on a Friday," Dr. White began. "Go home. Enjoy your weekend!" Ashley's face lit up.

"Okay. Thanks!" Ashley chirped.

Dr. White turned back to face me as I approached her. I only slowed down when, instead of stepping aside to let me pass as she did last time, she stood in front of me and held the door open, passing the job over to me as soon as I got close enough. This kept her in front of me as we began moving towards her office.

"I'm so glad you came!" she said, grinning as she led me down the hall. "I confess I was afraid you were gonna think twice and cancel. Of course, you could have done so. I wouldn't have been offended at all. But I'm glad you're being proactive about this stuff. That's a very good sign!" I was suddenly hit with a pang of regret. Damn! I could have just told her no and have not faced any repercussions. A big part of me did not want to be here, and knowing that might have been just enough to convince me to not come here. But not wanting to display any regret, I simply smiled and nodded as she looked at me over her shoulder.

As she led me on, I was again struck by the contrast between the two sides of her I'd encountered. The professional image of the woman in front of me was the polar opposite of the one I'd run into in that parking lot. The one thing they had in common was the way her butt moved as she walked, smoothly shaking side-to-side, the firm cheeks pressing out perfectly against the thin black skirt. It wasn't an over-the-top kind of movement... it just seemed that her gait worked to naturally showcase her rear end. But the show didn't last very long, as her office wasn't far away.

Pushing open the door, she stood against it as she welcomed me inside, gesturing for me to walk past her into the office. I pivoted as soon as I got within close proximity of her, not wanting to make contact with her as I walked past. And even though I was successful on that front, being somewhat close to her allowed her subtle, feminine perfume to hit my nose. That had always been a weakness of mine, and it activated my sense memory almost immediately.

Whatever cocktail of perfume, girly shampoos, lotions and natural scents it was, there was just something about the unmistakable scent of a girl that always just clicked with me. It just seemed like the girls that I ended up dating smelled amazing. I distinctly remember getting a certain pleasant satisfaction of smelling a girly scent on my bedsheets the night after sharing my bed with a girl. It's probably a bit of confirmation bias, but it seems like the girls I liked the best had a perfectly calibrated girly scent, and some of the girls that I had more of a tumultuous relationship with were a little more garish and less subtle with their girly smell. Still nice but sometimes a bit aggressive. A little too strong of a perfume, a slightly more bitter of a shampoo, etc. Unfortunately, Annie had sensitive allergies to overly perfume-y smells, so she didn't use a lot of heavily scented products. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal. But... I couldn't deny the small feeling of satisfaction that went through me when that scent of a girl hit my nose.

This is all a long way to say that Dr. White smelled really good. A perfectly calibrated scent, my exact preference.

Knowing the drill, I walked across the room and took a seat on the couch as she grabbed a notebook from her desk before sitting down on her chair. Sitting up straight, and in doing so unconsciously pushing her chest out, making her large breasts press outwards against her silky red top, I found my eyes glancing at her cleavage for just a moment. Regathering myself, I looked up just in time as she looked at me and began speaking.

"So, like I said, I am VERY excited that you're here today," Dr. White began, smiling brilliantly. "And, lucky for us, this is my last appointment of the week, actually, so we don't have to rush through this. That being said, I don't want to waste time." She paused here, leaving me enough time to nod in assent. "Now, before we get started, I just want to remind you that my goal is to help you find your best self. That might require pushing your buttons, needling at you, perhaps even making you a little upset. But again, everything I'm doing is to help you, so please stick it out with me, even if I start to piss you off a little bit. Sound good?" she asked, smiling warmly. I nodded again.

"I'd first like to discuss your dating history." I physically tightened up at this, dread filling me, and my reaction was noticeable enough for her to see it. She grinned again. "I know this makes you uncomfortable. But my hope is that we can just push right through that. Rip off the band-aid right away. And I'm also hoping that we can perhaps get past some of the... dancing around the answers... that you started to do during our last session. How does that sound?" She asked this warmly but firmly, a gentle warning that it was for the best that I just speak the truth and get to the point as opposed to trying to dodge the questions.

"Okay," I said, exhaling deeply and nodding again, trusting in her that this approach would be for the best. She flashed another grin at this, then proceeded to begin her questioning.

"So, just to revisit a topic we discussed before... is it safe for me to assume you were sexually active back in high school?" she asked professionally, clearly knowing the answer but wanting me to say it.

"Yes." I said plainly. My answer made her smile lightly, happy to see that I was being a bit more forthcoming than I had been before.

"How did those relationships tend to start? Were you the pursuer or the pursued?" she asked.

"Uh..." I began, still a bit nervous to be actually putting voice to my history. "I guess I was mostly the one pursued."

"I thought so..." she said to herself, smirking lightly, scribbling down some notes. "Why do you think that was the case?"

"I don't know..." I began, sitting back. "I guess I was still kinda young and naïve. I mean... there were girls I thought were really pretty, but... I didn't know what to do at that point. I was nervous about asking girls out, so I didn't. I was happy enough just, you know... being a teenager. Playing sports and hanging out with my friends. But some of the girls in my class... they weren't so nervous." Dr. White smirked knowingly.

"So, were these girls the ones you already liked?" she asked.

"Not necessarily," I said with a sigh. "Not that I didn't like these girls, but... they weren't always ones in my classes, or ones that I knew a bit better. Or the ones I had my eye on. But... I wasn't being too precious about it. I had really pretty girls walking up to me and asking me out... I wasn't gonna say no."

"How'd these relationships tend to go?" Dr. White asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"They weren't too serious," I began. "We always had fun, you know... we went out, went to parties, fooled around, but it was never anything really substantial... on both ends. It wasn't like I was dating girls who wanted to, like... get married to me. We were just having fun."

"And you clearly didn't just date one girl back then?" she asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I dated a fair share of girls, I guess. But like I said, it was never anything too significant. It was just... high school dating."

"Were these girls in your grade? Younger... older?" she asked.

"They were mostly girls in my grade. I don't think I dated many that were younger than me. I dated a few that were upperclassmen," I said, and she seemed to smile to herself at this. Back then, such a thing was rare, the girls dating guys in grades below them. It must have been the same with her, and based on her earlier expectation that I'd done well for myself back then, this only supported her case. "I was at a pretty big school, so there some people there you'd suddenly meet who'd been there the whole time. Plus, you know... there were girls from other schools as well. But... yeah..." I stopped myself, suddenly feeling like I was bragging. That was not my intent. Honest. She smiled and nodded.

"And did it always stay the same, with them being the ones to seek you out?" she asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," I replied.

"So, you didn't really have to work for it at all, then?" she added with an amused smile. I shrugged my shoulders again.

"I mean... not really. Maybe, in some sense, it set me back, cause I should have learned way earlier than I did about how to ask out a girl. But I never really had to." I answered.

"Why do you think you attracted so much attention?" she asked.

"Uh... any answer I give will make me sound a bit arrogant," I said to myself.

"Just be honest. No shame in that," she suggested patiently.

"Well... I was a good-looking enough guy, I guess. I was an athlete, and decently popular. I think at that age, that was probably enough for a lot of the girls." I answered.

"What were these girls like? Did they have anything in common?" she asked. Again, based on our previous appointment, she knew the answer to this question, but she wanted me to say it. I paused and looked at her, and I swear I could see the slightest twinge of a smirk crossing her lips. She knew she was pushing me into uncomfortable areas, and I suppose some small part of her enjoyed that discomfort her question incited. So, per her advice, I opted to just confront it head on.

"You're talking about the whole 'pretty girls with dark hair, a perfect ass, and big tits'... thing?" I asked. I remembered that comment of mine with crystal clarity, knowing even in the moment that I'd said too much. And I knew she keyed in on that comment as well. And if I had any doubts about that, she confirmed it.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," she responded calmly. I looked across at her, only to see her grin at me again. Exhaling and sitting back, I tried to figure out the best way to lay it all out.

"Uh, well..." I began, shrugging my shoulders. "It is what it is. I ended up dating a lot of girls that... had those qualities. It wasn't even some grand plan of mine. I mean, sure, I liked those things as much as any other guy, but I wasn't seeking out girls like that. It was just... girls like that tended to be the ones that sought me out. And after a while of girls like that... I didn't think to look past those qualities. Like I said last time, I was dumb." Dr. White scribbled down a lot of notes at this before looking back up to me, clearly wanting to dig deeper.

"Why do you think girls like this flocked to you?" she asked. I shrugged.

"I don't know. I wasn't even being that discerning about girls before that. I guess I was looking for someone I found pretty, but I wasn't too choosy about a girl's measurements. But these girls were the ones who ended up wanting to be with me. I don't know why." I replied.

"Do you mind if I speculate?" she asked. I nodded in reply. "Perhaps the girls that had the level of confidence to walk up to a guy in high school were the ones that had, as you so elegantly put it, 'a perfect ass and big tits.' Maybe it was because these girls knew they had such impressive measurements that could make any guy that age throb that gave them that certain swagger needed to so boldly ask out a guy like you."

"Maybe," I replied. I'd certainly considered the same line of thinking, so to hear it reaffirmed by an expert gave it some credence.

"Or... perhaps you were unconsciously sending out signals that these girls were, in fact, the ones you really wanted. And these young women were simply picking up on that," she speculated. At this assertion, I had to push back.

"I... I don't think that's the case," I replied. "Honest to god, I wasn't only looking for girls with hot bodies." At this assertion, she seemed surprisingly unconvinced.

"Well, okay... then how long was it before you changed your approach to dating?" she asked, her question like an arrow hitting the target.

"Uh..." I began, smiling in embarrassment. "Till I was, like, 25..." I admitted quietly. She grinned at this, looking almost happy to have heard this.

"So, from your high school days through your early adulthood, the majority if not all of your girlfriends were these beautiful women with great butts and massive breasts who, if I could hazard a pretty safe guess what they were thinking with a man like you, wanted to have as much sex with you as possible." Something seemed off about that statement, but I didn't have time to think about it as she kept talking. "Honestly, this sounds like every man's dream scenario! The life that everyone desperately wants. Why would you ruin such a good thing?" Despite asking this in a rather straightforward fashion, I could sense some sarcasm in her question. Nonetheless, I chose to just answer the question she was getting at.

"I ran into a girl from high school at a bar when I was waiting for my girlfriend at the time," I began. "And she said that she used to have such a crush on me back then, but she didn't bother asking because she wasn't like the girls I dated. I asked her what she meant, and she said that I always dated girls with big boobs, and since she was, uh... flat-chested, she didn't think she could compete with that. She said that everyone knew that that was my thing, only dating girls with big boobs. The, uh..." I exhaled as this sharp memory hit me. "The exact words she used to describe it was that my type was 'big-titty girls.'" Dr. White openly smiled at this admission.

"Big-titty girls?" she said, clearly amused at this phrase. "I kinda like that." I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, she said that because I only dated 'big-titty girls', I would never consider dating her," I explained. "And yeah, she said everyone at school apparently knew it was my thing." I hated revisiting this memory, because it had had such a profound affect on me. I looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

"Was it not true?" Dr. White asked calmly, no doubt trying to needle me. "I mean, all the evidence is there..."

"No!" I said, looking back at her fiercely, sounding a bit more upset than I intended. Calming my nerves, I continued. "Like I said, I didn't really think about it till that point. It's just what sort of happened. But when she said that, it put into perspective that I kinda had a reputation. And when I realized that, I knew I had to change. I didn't want to go through life being that guy."

"Why not?" Dr. White asked naively, as if the answer wasn't obvious. "Did you not like dating 'big-titty girls'?" she asked, clearly needling me. I didn't bite.

"Because..." I began, both trying to keep calm and having so many obvious things to say that I couldn't find the right words. "Because there's a type of guy who only cares about that kinda stuff. Some... d-bag with a sports car who goes to the club every night is the type of guy always has to be with a woman with massive breasts. I don't want to have any crossover with a guy like that. I don't want to be that guy!" A silence hung between us at this declaration, and I was surprised to see that she seemed somewhat puzzled by what I'd said.

"So..." she began. "You didn't pivot in the moment, through all those many relationships. You were never complaining when you had a busty girlfriend to spend the night with. You never questioned your place in life when you were being ridden into the bed by one of your gorgeous, hot-bodied exes. You weren't having any existential crisis's when you were dating girls with perfectly-shaped asses. It was only when an old friend implied that you were being judged for your taste in quote unquote, "big-titty girls", that you began to question yourself. Is that correct?"

"I mean... yeah, I guess so," I admitted. At this, she scribbled down a lot of notes. Enough for me to eventually have to speak up. "Did I say something wrong?" She looked and gave me a patient smile.

"It's just..." she began, looking for the right words to say. "After years of being content and not questioning things, you let someone else's opinion affect you so deeply. I fear, in some manner, you were going against your own wishes to satisfy some... nebulous judge of your character."

"Well, looking back at a lot of my old relationships, I wasn't exactly driving the car then either," I began. "I dated a lot of very demanding, strong-headed women. A lot of times, it felt like I was just along for the ride, not in control of any of my dating life. At that moment, after running into Callie... I took the steering wheel for my own life. For the first time. And when I was having to decide which way to go, I had to decide on what I was actually looking for. And I did. And I found Annie." She seemed impressed by this answer, smiling and jotting down a few more notes. Finally, she looked up and spoke again.

"And that's great, it really is. But... I wonder if it was at the cost of your own happiness..." she asked.