Erica's Disclosure

Erica stood outside the door, her heart pounding like a drum. She was late, a consequence of only summoning the nerve to attend at the last minute. Through the thin walls, she could hear the low murmur of voices - the group had already begun its session. Their weekly meetings were held in an inconspicuous community center in the sprawling urban landscape just north of London. A planner affixed to the wall displayed an eclectic range of activities: Youth Art Club on Mondays, Adult Fitness Class on Tuesdays, Restorative Yoga on Thursdays, and Spanish for Beginners listed for Fridays.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Inside the dimly lit room, she found an intimate gathering of women. The soft murmur of their conversations filled the air, a sign of the camaraderie they shared. Erica, it being her first meeting, felt like an outsider amidst this familiar group. It was evident these women were seasoned attendees of the E.R.O.T.I.C.A. meetings-Embracing Recovery, Openness, Trust, and Individual Connection Amongst members-a support group designed for those grappling with hypersexuality.

Erica thought of it more bluntly as pure and simple sex addiction. Her life was constantly under siege by the overwhelming force of her intense sexual desires, seizing control at the most inconvenient moments and directing their focus towards the most unlikely male figures. She might have thought it comical if it was happening to someone else because her impulses were inexplicably drawn to much older, often creepy men, especially if they happened to possess a large cock.

The group's cozy familiarity with each other made Erica feel uncomfortable, especially when her heels, echoing softly on the polished wooden floor, caused them to fall into silence for a moment, as they looked toward her. Erica's blonde cascading hair was always radiant, even under sterile fluorescent lights, and she knew she looked good in her form-fitting blouse and skirt combo, as it hugged the curves of her athletic figure, yet all she felt was awkward and vulnerable.

Avoiding the faces, Erica turned her gaze to the group's therapist - Leonard Perrin, the only man in the room. He struck her as somewhat older than his profile picture on the group's website. She guessed he was likely in his sixties, thin with a receding hairline and a weathered face that suggested more of a life spent out of doors, than in psychotherapy and academia. Yet despite his age, there was an undeniable sharpness in his eyes. According to the same website, Leonard Perrin was a leading specialist in the treatment of hypersexuality.

Erica was banking on this support group to help her grapple with her explicit fantasies, secret addiction to age-gap pornography, and her weakness for older, well-endowed men.

The group which consisted of about twelve women of quite a mix of ages, ethnicities, and physical types, sat in a neat semi-circle before him.

An awkward silence enveloped the room as Erica quickly found an empty chair, sat down, and smoothed out the hem of her skirt, pulling it discreetly down over her shapely thighs. She nervously twisted the gold band on her finger. A reminder of her silent promise to remain faithful to Stuart, despite her struggles and occasional lapses.

Perrin's resonant voice reverberated throughout the room, instantly drawing all attention, and silencing her internal monologue. She marvelled, not without a trace of irony, at her current predicament; a congregation of the hypersexual, orchestrated by an older man whose likeness disturbingly mirrored the very figures she found herself undeniably drawn to. Yet, despite the irony and discomfort, she had run out of options. Leonard Perrin, with his age-creased face and worldly wisdom, was her final lifeline in a war she was steadily losing. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and prepared to confront her demons.

The man's seasoned eyes scanned the sea of attentive faces before him. His voice, calm, and reassuring broke through the silence in the room.

"Firstly, I want to express my gratitude to you all for being here. It takes courage to acknowledge one's struggles and seek help. Remember, you are here because you want to change and understand yourselves better, but most importantly, you want to know you're not alone in your affliction."

Erica couldn't help but notice his gaze lingered momentarily on her before moving on. Well, she supposed there was nothing untoward about that, she was the newbie after all.

"The key pillar of our approach to treating hypersexuality is transparency. In our journey to regain control over our lives, honesty is vital. Disclosures, frank confessions of your hypersexual activities both recent and in the past, are a fundamental part of this process."

A gentle wave of nervous energy swept over the room, causing some of the women to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Perrin continued, his tone never wavering, "It's important to remember these disclosures should be open and explicit. Yes, it may be uncomfortable at first, but there is no judgment here."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, creating an intimate, inviting atmosphere. "We are in a safe, supportive, and secure environment. The words spoken here, the stories shared, they remain within these four walls."

Perrin paused, letting his words sink in. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, "So, Ladies, who wants to begin? Which one of you is brave enough to be the first to make a disclosure? Has anyone suffered a lapse since last week's meeting?"

The room went silent, the women holding their breath, all waiting for the first to speak up. To Erica the air was heavy with the weight of unspoken secrets, and not just hers.

Finally, a woman raised her hand. She looked in her thirties, attractive in a plump and curvy sort of way, with bright red hair.

"Okay, Daisy," said Perrin with an encouraging smile. "Let's hear it. Remember the more honest and detailed you are, the greater the benefit of sharing."

"Well," began Daisy, looking around at the expectant faces in her audience, and seemingly only too happy to share. "I heard of this pub called the Mucky Mug & Filthy Flagon, where certain things are known to happen.

A glint of mischief sparkled in Daisy's eyes, a sly grin spreading across her face as she held the group's undivided attention. "Girls, if you think you've heard it all, wait till I tell you what happened to me there." A ripple of anticipation ran through the room.

The plump woman sighed wistfully, twirling a strand of her fiery red hair around her finger. "Well, you all know me by now. Married. I've got this great big softy of a husband, Derek. Bless him, he's tried his best to keep up with my... appetites. But, well..." She shrugged, and her grin widened, "Let's say lately he's been somewhat lacking, and my resistance to a little extramarital dalliance isn't what it used to be. A girl's got to live a little, right?"

A sense of camaraderie filled the room as many women nodded in agreement, a few chuckling under their breaths. It was clear they related to Daisy's predicament.

"I heard about the Mucky Mug from a friend. She's in this very room, but her secret's safe with me. And the things she said went on in that place, well, curiosity was eating away at me. I just had to check it out for myself."

Another chuckle went through the group.

"I found the pub tucked away in a very seedy part of town, sandwiched between a tattoo parlor and a rundown laundromat. A nondescript hole-in-the-wall, but once inside... well, girls, it's quite the experience. Dimmed lights, loud music, and a crowd mostly made up of middle-aged men.

"I caught the eye of two of them, Alex, and Rory, both in their fifties. Alex was this mountain of a man - bald, bearded, with a big beer belly. Rory was Scottish and full of tattoos but with a charming smile. They were inseparable, like two peas in a pod."

Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "They were like two predators, circling their prey. And I, well, I was willing to be caught, but I still made them work for it. After a couple of drinks, they took me to Rory's big articulated truck parked down a deserted alley.

An audacious chuckle slipped past Daisy's lips; her face flushed with the thrill of her confession. The room was alight with hushed whispers and wide-eyed stares. Erica watched as the women leaned in closer, their faces lit up with a mixture of shock, intrigue, and a sense of vicarious pleasure.

"And well," Daisy continued, her voice dripping with saucy relish, "I did mention Rory was well-endowed, didn't I? Alex, on the other hand, was all about his... skills. And trust me, they didn't disappoint. For the next hour or so they fucked me every which way possible, and it was amazing!"

A collective gasp followed her words, the women giggling and nudging each other like teenagers sharing a juicy piece of gossip. Erica couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation, excitement, and perhaps even a touch of envy.

She found herself drawn into the story, her heart racing as the explicit details unfurled. She closed her legs tightly, subconsciously hiding the arousal Daisy's story had fired up inside. Her imagination appended pictures to the woman's narration. She could clearly see Daisy sucking one cock while being hammered from behind by another before eventually being fucked in her cunt and bum simultaneously.

Erica stole a glance at Leonard Perrin. His gaze remained unnervingly steady, his attention solely on Daisy. His demeanor was not that of a dispassionate observer but rather a spectator at an alluring spectacle. Still, there was no judgment, no overt condemnation. Meanwhile, the group was lapping it up.

Daisy was soon followed by another woman with a story. Cilla, a married woman in her mid-forties, looked like a timid librarian, but she traveled the country roads in her Toyota Yaris, picking up young male hitchhikers to fuck in farmers' fields.

And she was followed by Grace, who had a thing for uniforms. She couldn't pass a policeman or a fireman without putting herself on offer for a quickie, the more public the setting, the better.

And so, it went on. It appeared each woman in the group had a story to share, eager to reveal her own experiences. For Erica, this revelation was eye-opening, although not quite what she had anticipated. Instead of a sense of shame or guilt, these women embraced their licentiousness with laughter and delight. If anything, they seemed to revel in outdoing each other with tales of their sexually wanton exploits.

As Erica listened to their unabashed accounts, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and arousal. She shifted in her chair, hoping her drenched panties wouldn't be noticeable through the back of her skirt when she eventually stood up.

Later, when the disclosures appeared to be winding down, Perrin cleared his throat and spoke. "Ladies, as you are probably aware, we have a newcomer among us tonight. Let's all extend a warm welcome to Erica."

The group members murmured in acknowledgment; some offering kind smiles.

Perrin continued, "In our EROTICA support group, it's customary for all new members to make a disclosure. Erica, I now invite you to share your story. Tell us why you have joined this group for women suffering from hypersexuality."

Um, I-I'm sorry," Erica stammered, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I can't. I thought I could, but it's just too..."

To her surprise, Erica noticed Perrin's face appear to harden. It was obvious he wasn't going to let her off the hook.

"Erica, I understand it's not easy, but sharing your story is an essential part of the process. It's a way for you to connect with the other women in this group who face similar struggles daily." Then with an expanse of his hands, he added, "Your support group, or should I say, your sisterhood, is waiting."

Erica swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she looked up and said, "Okay." Her voice was a little steadier this time. "I'll try."

Her gaze momentarily flickered to the gold band on her finger, before she continued. "I don't know if I truly love my husband, Stuart, but what I do know is I want to be in a loving relationship, and the key to achieving this is for me to be faithful to him as a starting point. Until about a year ago, I was quite reserved about sex, but then I experienced a series of events, or should I say encounters with a certain type of man, that seemed to have opened a Pandora's Box and left me battling my addiction to explicit fantasies and age-gap pornography. These intense sexual urges well up and take control of me at the most inconvenient times, and they..." Her hesitations caused her audience to lean forward even more attentively. "Well, the focus of these urges tends to be... Older men. Much older men with rather large... Let's just say my urges concern older well-endowed men and leave it at that."

Daisy chimed in, "Well, love, who doesn't go a little gaga for a big, hard cock, eh? I know I do!" Her intervention gave rise to laughter from the rest of the group.

"At least those old wrinkly bastards know what to do with it," added someone else, to a murmur of jocular agreement.

Perrin made an 'a-hem' sound to bring the group back into order, before saying, "Carry on, Erica."

Erica took another deep breath. "One evening recently, when Stuart was working late, and I was alone in our apartment," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "My sexual urges, the ones I've been struggling with, they'd become so intense, it was like a fire burning up inside me, consuming my thoughts and making me extremely restless.

"That's when I thought of Old George, my neighbor across the hall.

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Daisy, but was quickly silenced by a collective shush from the others.

"Anyway," Erica carried on, a sheepish smile flickering across her face. "Old George is just that, old enough to be my grandfather, but he's not without his charm and he's always up for some mischief if you get my meaning."

"George and I... Well, we'd been playing these little games every now and then. I'd pretend to be a troubled schoolgirl and he was my strict headmaster, or a visiting nurse to give him a bed bath. We even did the secretary-boss thing a couple of times."

Taking in the raised eyebrows and curious stares from the group, she pushed forward, "That evening, I knew his wife was out; she never misses her bingo night. I put on my old girls' hockey outfit. I've had it for so long now the short, pleated skirt barely covers my thighs, and the top clings to every curve. It was exactly the look I was going for, knowing it would get Old George firing on all cylinders."

"When he opened the door, his eyes widened with surprise and excitement. All I had to say to him was, "Coach, don't drop me from the team." His wicked little smile told me everything I needed to know. He was more than ready to play along, and his willingness sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "I'll do anything to prove myself to you, Coach, if you'll just let me in."

"That's so hot!" exclaimed someone.

"Before long, we were in the bedroom f... Having sex. George is quite energetic for his age. All my tension and frustration melted away. I was really enjoying myself. I'd already come once when he'd pleasured me with his mouth, but I was chasing a second. I had that feeling I sometimes get when I know that as good as the first climax was, the second is going to be so much better."

"I'm with you there, girl!" said someone to a chorus of laughter.

"I was on top, I still had my hockey skirt on, but otherwise we were both naked and I was calling out for him to... Look, I was truly going for it. I was riding him so hard; the bed was creaking as if it were about to collapse. This is probably why it took a while before I noticed that at some point George, rather than enjoying the experience, was actually in pain. He was panting heavily, but then we were having sex, so that didn't seem unusual, but in addition to that he was clearly wincing, and his face had gone terribly pale. I thought to myself, maybe it's just a cramp, so I kept going, knowing I was so close. A moment or two later, I came, and it was just as explosive as I'd hoped it would be."

"It was only when those thrilling sensations ebbed that panic washed over me and I realized that in my selfish pursuit of sexual gratification, I was not prepared to stop until I'd climaxed. Even if it had killed Old George!"

"Thankfully, as it turned out, he was okay. He was only suffering from a little indigestion. He was as right as rain a few minutes later and I finished him off with a blowjob. However, later when I thought about it, I couldn't shake the notion that if he'd actually been having a heart attack at that moment, I still wouldn't have stopped fucking him until I'd achieved that second orgasm."

"That incident made me finally realize, I can't continue to let my hypersexuality, my sex addiction, control me in that way, or put others at risk. That's why I came to EROTICA for help."

The group burst into applause. Erica smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgment, but in truth, she wasn't sure what they were reacting to. Was it her decision to seek help, or was it the telling of a story that fired them up in the same way their stories had aroused her?

She looked towards Perrin to try and read his reaction, but he was fussing with a clipboard he'd placed on his lap.

********

Leonard Perrin's gaze was fixed on the group's new member, Erica. Oh, she was a rare catch - absolutely fucking gorgeous.

These meetings never failed to excite him, stirring his arousal like wildfire. He carried around a clipboard for no other practical purpose beyond hiding his raging erections. Oh, the filthy stories these fucking sluts told every week!

He was a floor installer by trade and had gotten the idea to concoct this support group while refurbishing the office of a therapist during a period when sex addiction was all the rage in the media. He had no relevant qualifications in counseling or therapy, but no one bothered to question, never mind check, his Doctorate in Psychology (PsyD), as claimed on his website.

It proved to be a genius ruse, even if he did say so himself. He could have his pick from a room full of nymphomaniacs! The perfect stage to have his perverse fantasies come alive, and all under the guise of therapeutic redemption.

Keep it together, he sneered inwardly, his lustful intentions threatening to undermine the facade of professionalism he'd studiously crafted. Yet he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on Erica's luscious curves. His acute instincts told him this particular slut was going to be a pushover.

********

As the session drew to a close and the support group disbanded, Erica experienced a variety of emotions. Relieved she'd finally opened up about her struggles and found support among these women, yet at the same time, she was unsure about what lay ahead. Just as she was gathering her things to leave, she noticed Perrin approaching her discreetly, motioning for her to stay behind.

"Erica," Perrin's voice was gentle, his eyes filled with understanding. "I want to talk to you for a moment if that's okay."

Nervously, she nodded, her heart fluttering with anticipation and apprehension. "Of course, Mr. Perrin," she replied, trying to sound composed despite the storm of emotions swirling within her.

"Please, call me Leonard."

"Leonard," she repeated.

"Good night girls," Perrin called out to the last couple of stragglers who were leaving. It was Daisy and another woman. They were caught up in their own conversation and laughter and didn't look behind as they left the room.

Erica and Perrin were alone.