Unorthodox Methods

Somehow I felt even more naked than I had before. The thrill of the initial arousal fading into something closer to embarrassment. But I looked at Anna and she gave me a knowing look, and a smile, and I felt better.

She got up, then, and went to a small closet and after a moment of rummaging came out with a towel. She came back and stood over me, looking me over. She smiled and handed me the towel. I thanked her and she nodded, laughing.

She sat back down and watched as I wiped myself off. I wiped my hand, my chest, my stomach, I lifted my cock and wiped it off, squeezing a last couple drops of cum out. When I was done I was still damp and sticky, but better. I held the sodden towel in my hand and looked at Anna.

"You can just set it down, I'll take it with me to wash," she said, smiling. I set the towel on the floor in front of me.

It was very strange, sitting there naked in front of this woman I'd just met. My cock, soft now, rested along my thigh. I found I was self-conscious about that but Anna looked at it, then at my face, and smiled.

"How are you feeling?" she said.

I laughed. "Naked," I said.

She smiled indulgently and nodded. "You're joking, I think, but if you examine that feeling I think you'll find it's a more honest observation than you intended."

I nodded. I thought she was right. I looked toward where my clothes were heaped on the floor. Anna shook her head.

"I would like you to remain undressed for the duration of our time," she said. She glanced at the clock on the wall. "We're almost done here. I'd like to talk a little bit about what we just did."

"Okay," I said. "I guess this is the 'unorthodox method' you were talking about?"

She shook her head. "I wasn't speaking of any one method in particular. I was speaking of an openness to trying things not usually incorporated into therapy. In that sense, yes, this was one such approach. One among many."

"Okay," I said, a little chastened.

"I think you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes," I said, blushing, glancing at the cum-soaked towel, the evidence of my enjoyment. She glanced at it too, and smiled.

"Good. I want you to enjoy yourself. I can admit, too, that I enjoyed watching you." She blushed slightly, to my surprise; I blushed, too, and felt my cock stir on my thigh. She seemed to notice, her eyes flicking downward, then back up.

"But I want to be clear," she said. "We are not here for fun, or for sexual gratification. We are here for therapy. Everything we do is in the interest of examining your internal life, and addressing your issues. We did this--" she waved her hand to indicate me, the couch, the towel "--because I believe it is of therapeutic value to examine what arouses you, because I believe your sexual fantasies are connected with the issues you've described in your relationships. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

She smiled. "But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves, too, if enjoyment is therapeutically beneficial."

I nodded again, and blushed as I felt my cock stirring more on my thigh, beginning to swell again. She glanced at it and back up to my face, smiling.

"I'm glad you agree," she said.

She glanced at the clock again.

"We're just about out of time," she said. "I hope you'll return for our next session?"

"I plan to," I said, nodding, trying not to appear too excited, but she smiled knowingly.

"Good," she said. "I have some homework for you, in the meantime."

"Okay," I said.

"The next time you masturbate..." she glanced at my cock, which was nearly hard again, lifting off my thigh. "... which I suspect will not be long, I'd like you to try writing a story instead of reading one. What do you think about that?"

I shrugged. "I'm not much of a writer..."

"That's okay. It doesn't have to be great literature. You could even describe our session today, if you don't want to make something up. I would just like you to inhabit the story a little more directly. Instead of putting yourself vicariously in a character's shoes, it will be you who is exposed, who is watched. I'd like you to explore that feeling as explicitly as you're comfortable with."

"Okay," I said, unsure.

"Whatever happens in the story itself, I would like you to also take note of your own reactions. When does the story make you hard? When does it inspire you to touch yourself? If you cum - when you cum - make note of when in the process of writing the story you came. And think about what pushed you over the edge."

I nodded, blushing, my cock again fully hard. She looked at it, and smiled at me.

"I can tell this arouses you," she said. "That's good - I don't want you to be embarrassed about that. Let your body guide you. If you're aroused, even if you've just cum, don't hesitate to do it again, and be ready to tell me about what you do, what you think about." She glanced at the towel, blushing slightly. "And how much you cum."

"Got it," I said.

She nodded. "Good. And I hope it goes without saying, but discretion will be required, about what went on here today, if we're to continue."

"Of course," I said. She nodded again.

She stood, and waited a moment for me to do the same.

I hesitated, embarrassed, then stood. My cock stuck out obscenely, pointing at Anna. She looked at it and smiled. Then she extended her hand to shake.

Feeling intensely awkward, naked and very obviously aroused, I reached out and took her hand. Her hand was warm and dry; she gripped my hand firmly, gave it one solid shake while looking me in the eye.

"It was nice to meet you," she said, with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye. She glanced again at my cock and back to my face. "I look forward to continuing our work together."