Porn Therapy

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tarkatony
tarkatony
252 Followers

The words tumbled out so fast I couldn't take them in. But I got the tone, the despair and it dawned on me for the first time that I might have a share in the blame.

"It was hopeless, Mike and then I discovered your pornography. I saw what you looked at; I saw all the women in their panties and their sexy bras; saw all the pubic hair; saw the masturbating; the woman together; the groups. Finally, I saw inside your head, I saw what turned you on."

I couldn't see her, couldn't read her. I was lost in blackness. Where was she going with this? We were on new ground, my cock sensed new frontiers but I wasn't so sure.

Then her lips were on me and she sucked as if she had done it before, as if it was natural, as if she knew what she was doing. I strained at the ties. She pulled away. "I spent the first month tracking where you'd been and all the time I was wondering if you ever saw me in those pictures and movies you were watching, if you ever saw me in the little panties, the skimpy bras, if you ever saw me sitting with my legs open, with my fingers in me, if you ever saw me with my face between a woman's legs, in a group ..."

"Pat."

"Did you ever see me like that, Mike? No, I know you didn't, how could you? I gave you no reason to." She sucked a couple more times, her mouth hot and wet. "And then it happened, maybe a month into it. I forgot about you when I looked at the pictures and I looked for me. Could I do any of that? Could I see myself like these women seemed to see themselves, as sexy, as desirable, as a turn on? Me? No, of course I couldn't, not at first. But I stayed with it, I've been at it for months and gradually, it started to happen."

She kissed along my thigh and pushed her face into my pubic hair biting me gently on the base of my prick. "I knew you masturbated to the pictures and videos — you sometimes left Kleenexes on the desk. I started to. I knew you liked panties so I'd strip down to my underwear and started to play with myself, imagining me being one of the girls on the screen, imagining people looking at me, imagining you looking at me. It took guts but only at first. I've never really masturbated, I've wanted to but it never worked for me. But it did with the pictures and the movies and the stories, it was easy and it became addicting. I masturbated all the time. I've had some fabulous orgasms, fabulous cums as they call them."

My head was swirling, I felt dizzy, disoriented, I was pulling hard, I wanted out of the binding, I wanted my prick in her, I wanted to pound my prick into her cunt until she screamed.

I could feel her move, she was getting to her knees, then she was straddling me. I gasped when she took hold of my prick and rubbed it up and down the outside of her wet cunt, slowly, she was taking her time, she was in no hurry.

"The switch flipped for me when I started to look at the porn, not to imagine how you might see me in it, but to imagine myself in it. Could I lie there with my legs open so you could look at me? The thought appalled me at first, but the more I looked at your sites the less resistance I had until one day I thought I could do it, I thought I could lie there for you. Then, something came alive in me and I discovered that not only could I imagine myself doing what was in the pictures but I found I wanted to. That was the big change. I turned from cringing from it, to accepting it, to imagining it, to want it, now I'm trying to seek it. That's where I am now."

She had slowly moved my prick up and down her crack going in a little deeper with each pass. I could hear myself panting, I wanted to thrust into her and keep on fucking but I was entranced, too. I didn't want to leave the moment, I didn't want her to stop talking, I wanted her to get it out, to see where she was going. I fought for control right up to the moment when she slid me down to poke at her asshole.

"Oh, God, Pat."

She chuckled as she teased me. "I've seen these pictures, too, Mike. Could I do that? I bought a dildo and tried it. Ya, I could. And in awhile, I knew I could do the rest of it, too. Could I take my clothes off in front of others? Ya, eventually, I thought I could, if you wanted me to. Could I 'go down' on a woman like all those women in the pictures? Ya, I'm pretty sure I could, if you wanted me to. And group sex? Ya, I could do that, if you wanted it, and if you wanted me to, I could see how I could fuck somebody else. That's porn, isn't it, Mike? It gives you ideas, the pictures and films break down your inhibitions and create desires, then they reinforce your desires until you realize, ya, I could do that and then ya, I want to do that if he wants me to do it."

She slid along my body now, moving up so her knees were at my outstretched arms, her pussy just inches from my face. I could smell it.

"You develop an imagination, don't you? If you see yourself in those pictures pretty soon you start imaging yourself in different situations. Don't you?" She waited for an answer.

"Yes," I gasped.

"It can take you to some pretty wild places?"

"Yes."

"But not me. Do you know why, Mike?"

Not her? After all this. "No."

"There's a reason. I'll tell you about it some time." She knew she was driving me crazy but she didn't move, other than to run her hands through my hair. "But it all boils down to this: I can do all those things you fantasize about on your webpages ... but only if you tell me to do them. Do you understand?"

"No." I didn't.

"Do you want to eat me, Mike?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me, tell me to put my cunt on your face."

"Pat."

"Tell me."

"Turn around, put you cunt on my face and blow me."

She has a nice ass, I've always thought so, a runner's ass, which was now dressed in grey slacks tight enough to show a seductive panty line. And she's got great tits, not as big as her mother's or sister's but nice, especially now, sagging seductively free under her white t-shirt.

I hadn't said a word since it was over. I just got dressed as she did, followed her down into the kitchen, sat and sipped the beer she put on the table in front of me. I watched her at the stove as I tried to make sense out of what I was thinking of as the Great Metamorphosis.

Nothing could have been more immediate, more unlikely ... and more welcomed. I still had a hard-on: I could still feel the sexual energy coursing through her body; could still feel her warm wet mouth sucking me; could still smell her wonderful femininity deep inside my nostrils.

This wasn't going to be a one off, she convinced me of that. The moment it was over she flipped around and pressed her mouth against mine before saying, "I want this, Mike. Desperately. Let's just do it, do what they do in those videos and see where it goes."

She glanced back at me now, maybe to see if I was still there and still smiling. She has a pretty face, not beautiful by any means, but pretty in a sensible, practical kind of way. She has a dark complexion with dark brown hair falling well past past her shoulders and she has a wide, firm jaw and small mouth, a somewhat thick nose and attractive hazel eyes that have just now learned to sparkled. She once was sexy to me in her unique Slavic way but that was a long time ago. Then she became plain and mousey — cold, dull, uninteresting. Now, she is looking sexy again.

Our daughter Janice unlocked the door and entered the kitchen at 17 minutes to 11. She was surprised to see. "What are you two doing up?" She didn't live with us any more, she had an apartment downtown, but she often dropped by and often stayed the night in her old room.

When Pat turned glad to see her, Janice slowly looked her mother up and down and grew a look of astonishment. "You've had sex, haven't you? My God, you've just had sex!"

Pat smiled calmly. "It happens."

Janice was so surprised she shook her head like a confused child in denial. "Not to you it doesn't. Not to you two. You haven't had sex in years."

Pat turned back to the stove. "Well, we're having sex now, if that's OK with you."

Janice continued to stand in front of the door. "Why now? What's changed? I mean, besides that you don't wear a bra any more."

Pat looked over at her. "Want some eggs?"

Janice looked at me. "No, seriously, what's changed? Why sex now?"

"Mid-life crisis," I said, evasively, feeling as awkward as I often do with her.

Clearly, she wasn't moving until she had an answer. "No, come on, seriously, I want to know. Why now? What happened? What changed?" We've never talked about intimate things before. None of us is the open type which was why I was surprised Janice was taking a Masters in Psychology, super-surprised she wanted to be a Psychologist. It just didn't fit: she had the least inquiring mind of anyone I knew.

Pat could see her anxiety. "Do you really want to know what's changed?"

"Ya, I do." She seemed rooted to the floor.

"In a word?"

"Jeez, use a thousand."

"Porn." The word punched the air with impact. "I discovered pornography a year ago and when I did I found my inner vamp." She turned back to the stove. "Your father thinks I'm faking it."

I couldn't believe she said that, the old Pat wouldn't have uttered that word on a dare. "No I don't, I'm just adjusting to the shock."

Janice was clearly confused. "Porn? Really?"

Pat shrugged, "What can I say?"

Janice looked at me. "I don't get it. How could porn change anything?"

Mercifully, Pat answered, albeit laconically. "I needed the shock."

"Why?" she persisted, she still hadn't moved.

Pat shrugged.

"No, seriously, why? Why did you need the shock?"

Pat turned back to her and hesitated for a moment, unsure of herself, then she said, "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course I want to know. Why?" Janice seemed as out of sorts as we were, she never talked like this, was never demanding. There was a touch of panic in her voice, Pat could see it as easily as I could.

Pat turned off the burner, turned around and leaned back against the stove and looked, not at Janice, but at me. "I didn't think I'd ever tell you this." She waited a moment to gather her thoughts. "By the time I married you I had shut down." She hesitated, then I could see her resolve building to go for it: "I was abused ... from the age of 13 to 18. Sandra made me into her little play thing. OK?"

The revelation was so stunning I thought she was kidding but she doesn't kid and the tears that were welling in her eyes started rolling slowly down her cheeks. I jumped up and rushed over to her and held her. Instinctively, I knew it was true, it made sense. I had always thought that somehow she was damaged, I just didn't know how.

Janice was asking more questions, rapid-fire. I waved her off. "She'll answer your questions tomorrow, not now. Clean up here will you?" I took Pat by the arm and walked her upstarts to the bedroom and sat her down on the bed.

"We'll take tomorrow off, go for a walk, a drive, go out and get drunk, whatever. OK? Come on, I'll hold you, tomorrow we can talk about it."

She nodded vacantly, started to undress and was in bed in a matter of minutes. I lay beside her holding her close for perhaps the first time ever. She wasn't crying, her breathing was even, gradually she relaxed. In awhile she said, "It doesn't matter any more, Mike. I've finally beaten it."

She was exhausted. The roller coaster of emotions over the last few hours must have gutted her. I caressed her back and felt her drift off then tried for sleep myself. But I was wide awake.

How can you live with someone and not know they have a problem, a deep debilitating problem? I felt ridiculous, particularly because I had been so condemning of others. I have friends who were shocked to discover their daughter had become anorexic. Anorexic! Give me a break. How can you live with someone and not notice something like that? But how can you live with someone and not know she had been abused?

I tried to think how such a thing could happen. The father was long gone before I met her and I didn't know her mother very long before she died. I had met Sandra only twice and remember her vaguely as a big girl, loud and obnoxious. What exactly did Pat mean by 'little play thing?' What had Sandra put her through? Whatever it was the trauma to a young kid must have been soul destroying.

And then I thought of the metamorphosis that blossomed just two hours ago. How a damaged woman had apparently overcome her emotional disfigurement and started to emotionally expressing herself. Was this real? Was it healthy? Was it genuine change? Did she, could she now feel honest, healthy lust? I didn't know, didn't know who I was dealing with, only that I had an interest in her now where just hours before I had none.

I still hadn't found sleep a few hours later when she snuggled into me. "Forget about it. I have."

"Can you?"

"I couldn't ... but I have."

"But are you healthy? Maybe you should get some professional help?"

She crawled onto me, straddling my thigh, pressing her pussy into me as she kissed me on the neck. "No, I'm good now, the best I've ever been." She bit me on the neck. "And I'm deadly serious about what I said, Mike. I want to go for it, I want us to go for it."

"Why?"

She snickered. "For the most basic of reasons: I'm horny, I'm a Smithers, what can I say? We're all horny, it's just taken me a lot longer than the other two to figure it out." She wrapped her fingers around my prick. "Speaking of horny ..."

Things seemed to have eerily reverted back to normal the next morning with the exception that, as I was thinking about it, I was slowly stroking my cock. Pat always got up before I did, went into the bathroom, showered, dressed in her dressing room off our bedroom then departed. It seemed today might be the same. So after the shower was turned off I called her. When she came in she was naked, holding her panties.

Had she really changed?

"Get on the bed," I said, glad to see her lips curl in amusement as she glanced at the cock in my hand. She did, without hesitation. I got up. "In the middle, on all fours," I ordered. When she did and I sat down behind her. "Now spread your legs and put your head on the pillow." And there it was. She has a great ass that, like her breasts and her pussy, I have always treated as off-limits. It wasn't now. I began stoking again as I leaned in and kissed her cheeks a few times before diving in. When I pressed my face into her crack and stuck my tongue at her anus I heard a deep sign of approval that changed my gears. Immediately, I jumped to my knees, grabbed her roughly by the hips and pushed my face into her as hard as I could. It wasn't a moan any more, it was a cry and she was rocking, pushing back at me, spreading herself wide and her fingers soon found her clit.

I had imagined this a hundred times, not with her, of course, that would have been absurd, with one of the girls on the screen. I'd play with her anus with my tongue, trying to drive her nuts then when she got close I would force in my tongue as deep as I could awhile driving my finger into her soaking cunt. But you can't force your tongue in very far, I learned, but you can suck like crazy on it and you can take her places neither of you knew existed.

We came together, in no time, I splashed my orgasm against her thigh, she ran her cream onto her fingers and then she was on her back and I was in her and we were kissing frantically as I fucked her as hard as I could.

She was fully dressed and smiling down at me as I stoked my prick still sticky with her juices. "I'll call in for us then we'll plan the day, OK?"

"Will it involve any of this?"

"The rest of your life will involve a lot of that."

Janice was in the kitchen with the coffee ready when we came down. She gave us a smirk, an oddly knowing reaction from her. If she had heard our cries I would more easily have expected her to shun us.

Our daughter isn't exactly the warm and nurturing type, far from it. She is beautiful, an extremely pretty version of her mother with a more classically refined face and a more athletic body. But she's just as dull as her mother is, or used to be. I could never quite connect with her. I love her, or try to, and I've always given her everything she's wanted, which was never much except to be left alone, to come and go to her own rhythms. Fine. Her mother and I were expert at giving Janice all the space she wanted.

Janice poured the coffee for us and waited for her mother to speak.

After a few minutes of meaningless banter Pat could see her daughter's restlessness. "OK, I'll answer your questions but then it will be over, OK?" Pat was ready for her daughter's first question but she never could have expected the second.

"Did porn really pull you out of it?" We all knew what 'it' was, 'it' was a state of sexless being.

Pat sipped her coffee. "Yep, it did. It was invaluable, at least the porn that looked like fun was. That got me thinking. It took time, months but once I got a sense of what sex could be, my imagination took over and I started to get some idea of how I could ... fit in with it." When she smiled at me I could see a hint of sorrow.

Janice looked nervous, I wasn't sure why, Pat's answer had been open and honest, exactly the kind of answer Janice would have wanted. I found out.

"This is my last question for now, mum, but I really, really, really want you to say yes to it. I have a major paper to write later in the term. I want it to be on you. Here's the question: can I write as my paper the story of your sexual metamorphosis from beginning to end, with your discovery of pornography being the big break-through? You wouldn't be named, of course, but otherwise, the report would be an entirely accurate case study."

Pat didn't need to think about it. "Sure, I'd like that."

And I liked it, too, for only one main reason: working together could make them closer. They had always been estranged, never enemies but never friends. If Pat opened up to Janice it might change that. And Janice just might be able to help Pat: Janice has completed her under-graduate degree in Psychology and is well into her Masters so, academically, she's no dummy. But recently, Janice has expressed doubts that a career in psychology is what she wants. There had been murmurs of a course correction. Maybe an applied case like Pat's might help her make up her mind.

If Janice was excited by her mother's response she didn't show it, she just smiled and said, "Thanks, mum. I thought about it all last night. It'll be an in-depth case study stressing the therapeutic powers of pornography, if there are any." Trust Janice to sum up something so profound into so few and such dull words.

"So I open up," said Pat, a little doubtfully.

"You open up," Janice smiled.

"Are you ready for it?" Pat asked. "The story is pretty much all about the pain of my adolescence."

Janice nodded. "But it's a story about discovery, too and with a happy ending."

"Yes," Pat looked at me and smiled. "I think it does have a happy ending. When do you want to get started?"

"In a couple of weeks." Janice picked up her coffee cup and brought it to her lips. "You know, this is a turn-on for me, having your parents discover each other after all these years. It's a real turn-on."

"Thank you for that, Janice," I said with deliberate coolness.

She smiled then came over and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Have fun." Then she kissed her mum's cheek and said, "You two have got a lot of catching up to do ... I can't wait to hear about it."

The moment the door closed Pat said, "The girl is a Smithers, she doesn't know it yet but she is."

"And that means?" Smithers is Pat's maiden name but I didn't know what she was implying.

"You'll find out," she said, cryptically.

I was guessing that in the near future I might be finding out about a lot of things I didn't know about. "What do you want to do today?"

tarkatony
tarkatony
252 Followers