The Therapist [Chapter 10]

Author's Note: It's been a long time since I updated this series! You may wish to review at least the most recent few chapters so you recall what Phil and his therapist(s) have been up to!

---

I hadn't realize how badly Stacy's disapproval was weighing on me until I tried to go to sleep later that night.

And I couldn't.

I tossed and turned, thinking about Stacy, Lexie, and Becca.

I'd basically broken up with my girlfriend, prompted by Stacy and Lexie's questions and advice.

And now Stacy seemed almost angry with me.

It just didn't feel like the way therapy ought to be going, y'know?

When I looked back at the last half-dozen appointments, I struggled to make sense of how this was supposed to be helping me.

But I also shivered, remembering the feel of Lexie cumming around my cock. I still couldn't believe that had happened.

The sight of Stacy masturbating, the feeling of helplessness, knowing I couldn't last long enough to see her finish.

The way Lexie had sucked me off.

That had all been hot...but I didn't feel like the way that therapy was supposed to be work either.

And had it really been worth breaking up with Becca?

In short, I slept terribly that night. And the next night, and the night after that.

My life was a mess.

---

Several restless days later, it was finally time for some post-work drinks with my buddy Trevor. My homework from two appointments ago, that Stacy had been so disappointed to learn I hadn't completed.

He showed up a few minutes late, but pleased to see me. We exchanged a fistbump -- the most formal greeting Trevor knew how to offer -- and then pleasantries as we sat down in a booth in the corner of the bar. I hadn't seen him since before I started seeing Stacy, I realized, when he'd initially suggested it. The time had just flown by.

But -- as we always did -- we settled into our familiar cadence of shared jokes and mutual commiseration. I liked Trevor because he was easy to talk to, easy to get along with. I think he liked me because I didn't mind his boundless enthusiasm and bro-y simplicity.

He winced sympathetically when I told him about the recent breakup with Becca. "Dude. That blows. I always thought you guys were pretty good together. Plus, she was a hottie. Weren't you going to therapy? Did it not help, or...?"

"It, uh...it's been interesting. I've learned a lot, I think. But it's been...slow progress. Stacy even referred me to one of her colleagues for a few appointments. It pushed me to have some conversations with Becca that I probably wouldn't have otherwise, and one thing just kind of led to another..."

Trevor raised an eyebrow, his expression oddly neutral, now. "Huh. Kinda weird." He took a sip of his beer.

I paused. We were obviously on somewhat thin ice; Trevor seemed unusually guarded. "Do you, uh, still see her?"

Trevor shook his head. "Nah. I feel like I made all the progress I was going to...and it, uh...started to interfere with my relationship with Kate. So, um, I stopped."

I blinked. I could imagine that.

I didn't know how to raise the thing I really wanted to ask him. Hey, did you go to her because you're a premature ejaculator? I couldn't just out and say that directly.

I settled for a less specific question. "Did she, uh, actually solve your problem?"

Trevor considered this for a long moment. "You know...kind of. It recast it in a new light. I don't really see it as a problem anymore."

I mulled that over, still trying to decide if he was talking about cumming too quickly. "Are you glad you went to see her?"

He nodded, vigorously. "I'm, uh...not that introspective, I guess," he admitted. "It was good to have help pushing me to, y'know, reframe my own thinking about this, consider whether it was really an issue or not. But eventually I felt like I'd kind of gotten the core insights I was going to get on it..."

He hesitated, then lapsed into silence.

Whether he was talking about premature ejaculation or not, I realized Lexie had actually kind of suggested this as an approach, to me, in our first session. That maybe the problem wasn't the quick cumming itself, it was that I saw it as a problem.

"So..." I asked the question cautiously, but with curiosity. "...Are you satisfied with where you ended up? Like...instead of trying to fix the problem, reframing it so you don't really see it as a problem after all?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I don't think I was ever really going to be able to fix it. So, mostly, yeah, I'm happy. Sometimes it feels like a cop-out."

"And..." I thought about a way to ask this next question vaguely enough that Trevor might actually answer. "Kate's happy?"

He nodded. "Mostly, yeah."

"Huh."

"Mmm."

We settled into a longer, amiable silence, each of sipping at our drinks while I thought about that further. Maybe it was worth trying.

And then I saw Trevor's eyes lock on something over my shoulder and his body tense up.

"I, uh, gotta go."

"What? Why?" I was about to look behind me, when I heard the laugh.

I recognized it as Stacy's immediately. I whipped around to look.

She was looking away from us, looking over her shoulder at Lexie, laughing at something she was saying. The two of them looked like they were coming from work, wearing the same outfits I'd seen them wear to our therapy sessions: Stacy in her blouse and pencil skirt, Lexie in some far-less-formal athletic wear that I'd seen her wear to some of our appointments.

Trevor stood awkwardly, and mumbled, "Um, part of my...deal with Kate is that I'm not really supposed to see Stacy anymore."

And then he fled, almost stumbling away out of the bar.

Well, that gave me a lot to think about.

I vaguely considered following Trevor. It had some appeal; I felt pretty awkward around Stacy in this moment.

But I hadn't made any deal with Becca. I was here doing exactly what Stacy and Lexie had suggested I do.

And frankly, I was starting to feel a little like all of this had me in a tailspin. Like I was second-guessing myself at every turn, just reacting to things happening around me instead of making my own choices.

Besides all that: I still had three-quarters of a beer left.

So, I lingered. I sipped at it thoughtfully, watching the two of them as they ordered cocktails, chattered with each other. Stacy and Lexie were posted up at the bar, facing away from me.

Eventually, they finished their drinks. Lexie straightened up, gave Stacy a hug. Started to head towards the door.

And saw me.

I saw her dark eyes light up as they meet mine. She veered off course from the exit towards my booth. "Mind if I join you?"

I nodded.

I realized my heart was beating quickly. I remembered the look Lexie had given me after I'd made her cum at the last appointment.

It wasn't the same look now, but as she slid into the booth next to me, I couldn't help but feel like her gaze lingered a little longer on me, a little more appreciatively, than it had before the last appointment.

"How are you doing?" Lexie asked the question with her characteristic bluntness.

I ran a hand through my hair. "Um...not all that good, I think," I admitted, with a laugh. "I've broken up with my girlfriend and I'm pretty sure my therapist is pissed at me."

Lexie nodded, soberly. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. About both, if I'm honest with you. I feel like I pushed you to have that conversation with Becca. And, well, that last appointment...if I hadn't, y'know..." She bit her lip and subsided into silence.

I shook my head. "No, no. We've talked about this already. I needed to have that conversation with Becca; it's not your fault that's the way it turned out. And, um..." I could feel my face reddening. "...I had a really good time in the last appointment."

"Mmm. Me too."

"Something else I wanted to ask you," I said, thinking of the conversation I'd just had with Trevor. "The first appointment I had with you, you said that maybe the problem was with my mindset. Like, Stacy and I had jumped to treating a problem, without really deciding why it was a problem."

She nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I remember."

"So...do you think maybe that's what I should be focused on? Assessing whether this is actually something I need to fix?"

Lexie hesitated. "I'm...not your therapist anymore, Phil. That was a temporary arrangement; you're Stacy's patient, now, and I shouldn't interfere with whatever treatment plans she's got for you."

I frowned. That felt weird. Lexie had never stood on formality that way before.

She paused, glancing at the expression on my face. "...Maybe I can give you some advice as a friend, though," she conceded, mouth quirking up in a smile on the word friend.

"I'd appreciate that. As a friend."

Lexie nodded. "I do think you should consider whether this is something that's actually a problem. But you admittedly didn't really seem interested in that approach when I raised it. So I think you need to ask yourself two questions. First: are you trying to fix your lack of control because it makes someone else unhappy -- Becca, say, or Stacy -- or because it makes you unhappy?"

She paused, letting that hang in there.

I wasn't sure of the answer myself. It did make me unhappy.

But did it just make me unhappy because it disappointed the women around me?

I nodded, slowly. "Okay. What's the other question?"

"Well, if it does actually make you unhappy, then you really ought to ask yourself if that's.."

But Lexie trailed off, just like Trevor had. Her eyes fixed on someone else who had entered the bar.

I looked the same way she was.

Becca had just walked in. She was dressed in tight jeans and a tank top.

And she marched up to Stacy, distaste on her face. I could see Stacy's red lips curve up in a smile. She gestured for Becca to sit at the bar with her.

"What the fuck?" I said the words blankly, completely astonished.

"Huh. I don't know," Lexie said, bemused. She slid closer to me in the booth, shifting to be sitting next to me, so that she was angled for a better view of the two of them.

"This isn't something you and she talked about?" I glanced at Lexie.

Lexie shook her head, slowly. "No...she told me she was meeting someone else, but not..."

She didn't finish the sentence. We both watched as Becca and Stacy started talking with each other.

Becca's body language was absolutely guarded -- arms crossed, leaning away.

Stacy, on the other hand, was confident and amused; she leaned towards Becca and started talking. A bartender came over; Becca ordered a drink, loosening up a little, listening to Stacy.

Of course, over the background noise of the bar, I couldn't hear what they were saying. I looked at Lexie.

Who, as it turned out, was watching me, not Stacy and Becca. Lexie was looking up at me, an expression of worried curiosity on her face, like she was waiting to see how I'd react.

Well, I asked her the question I was wondering. "What do you think they're talking about?"

The moment I started talking, Lexie was shaking her head. "No. This is not good for you."

I blinked. "What? What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I don't know what they're talking about. But Phil, it's your therapist and your ex-girlfriend. What else do they have in common? They're almost certainly talking about you. But you sitting here thinking about it isn't going to be healthy."

"But why would Stacy..." I felt like my mind was spinning. Becca still looked frustrated, annoyed with Stacy, but she was listening. As I watched, she gave Stacy a nod, a one-word reply to some question she'd asked. Stacy nodded, almost encouragingly, then started talking again.

Should I confront them? Interrupt them? Just wait?

Lexie seemed to be able to tell that I was spiraling. "Phil. No. No. You don't know why they're talking. I may not be your therapist anymore, but we've gotta get you out of this situation. It is seriously unhealthy. C'mon." Lexie grabbed my hand and tugged me up, out of the booth. Uncertainly, I let her lead me out of the bar, into the parking lot.

"Which car is yours?"

I nodded in the direction of my vehicle. She led me over to it. I felt...oddly frozen. In shock, maybe. My thoughts were slowly stuttering back into motion, though. "Do they know each other from, like, before I started seeing Stacy? Are they like, working together? Did Stacy...turn her against me, o-or something?"

"Unlock your car and get in." Lexie's tone was peremptory, if sympathetic. I fumbled in my pocket for the keys, unlocked the car.

I slid into the driver's seat. Lexie went around and let herself in on the passenger side, sat next to me.

I looked at Lexie, feeling a little helpless and pathetic. I didn't know what to say. I felt like crying.

She caught the look and patted my thigh sympathetically. "Phil, you should try to relax. I don't know what they're talking about. Here's what I do know: Stacy is an unorthodox therapist, but she is a damn good one. Maybe she reached out to Becca to ask her questions about your case; maybe Becca reached out to her. But she does have your best interests at heart. It doesn't have to be some...conspiracy theory. Almost certainly isn't."

Lexie said it all confidently. Adamantly.

But it only improved the way I was feeling a little bit. "But what...what if they're talking about my, um...problem?" I asked the question miserably.

"Phil, this brings us back to our earlier conversation." Lexie sounded a little exasperated, now. "Let's say they are talking about your problem. So what? First of all, you don't even know if they're talking about it negatively."

I gave Lexie a flat look. "I-I mean, Becca's been complaining about it."

Lexie was unmoved. "Maybe Stacy's helping her think about it differently."

"How? Fuck, Lexie, I-I don't even-" I ran a hand through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh.

Lexie leaned over, reaching across to the driver's seat to put a finger on my lips. I lapsed into silence.

"Shh. Phil. You need to relax. I know that was jarring, unexpected. Like I said, I don't know what Stacy's up to. But you need to not jump to the worst-case scenario."

"Oh, come on," I said, struggling to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Stacy was clearly angry with me at the end of our last session. Maybe she reached out to Becca to, I don't know, teach me some kind of lesson. How could this possibly be something intended to help me?"

Lexie pinched the bridge of her nose. "You. Don't. Know. That. You know what? Fine. I'll give you some examples."

"I don't really want you to," I said, shortly. I was tempted just to drive off, but I couldn't do that with Lexie still in my car. I stared straight ahead in frustration.

"Tough. Maybe Becca reached out to Stacy because, frustrated as she is with the situation, she feels bad about the breakup."

"Yeah, or maybe she just wanted someone else to talk to about what a quick cummer I am." I couldn't keep the rancor out of my voice, now.

"Yeah." Lexie nodded. "Maybe. That's possible."

I hadn't really expected her to agree with me; I glanced over at her, uncertainly.

"But maybe they're talking about how hot it is. Maybe Stacy's talking about how much fun your obsession with her has been. How flattering it is that you can't keep control for her. Maybe Becca's talking about she misses how desired she felt with you around. That in hindsight, she realizes how good it made her feel when you couldn't control yourself around her." Lexie's voice was intense, now, and in spite of myself, I felt my cock stir.

"Come on," I said, halfheartedly. "That's not really how either of them feel, and you know it."

"Yeah?" Her voice was challenging. "How do you know how they feel? Have you asked?"

"I mean, during our arguments, Becca always said she wished I lasted longer."

"And Stacy? How does she feel?"

"S-she's my therapist, so..." I shrugged, uncomfortably. I had no idea, actually. And Lexie knew it, of course.

"Right. You don't know. That's my whole point. You don't know how Stacy feels. You don't know how Becca feels. You don't even know how I feel." Lexie's voice was soft.

I glanced over at her. The sun had set as we'd talked in my car; shadows played across her face, her dark hair. I couldn't see her eyes.

The sexual tension in the car was suddenly so thick you could've cut it with a knife.

I swallowed. "How do you feel, then." It came out a little hoarsely.

"I always thought it was super hot, how you couldn't keep control of yourself for me," Lexie whispered. "I like that. I even told you that in our first appointment." She didn't meet my eyes.

"Oh," I said, lamely. I supposed I'd known that -- but hearing her say it still set my pulse racing.

"I mean, I remember our second appointment, where you came right when you stuck it in. That was so hot. You showed up so frustrated with me, and you still couldn't last."

"So maybe that's how Stacy feels, too. Maybe she's telling Becca about your very first appointment, that time you came in your pants for her. Or when she referred you to me, when it became clear you just couldn't handle her at all. Maybe she was telling Becca how she liked that." Lexie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, bit her lip.

I flushed in embarrassment at the recounting of so many different times when I'd failed to last.

But Lexie certainly seemed to like it. Even in the dark, I could see that Lexie was staring at the increasingly obvious bulge in my pants. My cock gave an appreciative throb.

"I'm just saying, don't jump to conclusions so fast," she murmured.

I grunted. I felt a confusing mix of emotions, now: suspicious anger at seeing Becca and Stacy together. Arousal at the way Lexie was talking. Embarrassment over how little progress I seemed to be making.

Suddenly, this was all too much, too complicated. I'd showed up at the bar expecting to have a relaxing drink with a buddy. I'd ended up sitting in my car, with a woman who'd given me three therapy sessions, discussing whether my ex-girlfriend and current therapist liked that I prematurely ejaculated or not.

And I'd gotten hard from the discussion.

I sighed. "This is a fucking mess," I mumbled, distracted.

Lexie arched an eyebrow. "It just depends on how you look at it."

I decided that I'd had enough reframing-how-I-thought-about-things for one day. "No, I'm pretty sure it's objectively a mess no matter how you look at it."

"Well, let me tell you something else, then." She hesitated.

She suddenly looked a lot more vulnerable than I would've expected. I twisted in my seat, surprised, turning so I look at her more directly. "What?"

"In your last appointment with Stacy...I, um, I really liked how you couldn't listen to her. " Shadows played across her delicate features as a car pulled out of the parking lot behind us with its headlights on.

"What do you mean?"

"It was really, really hot how she was telling you to stop...but I felt too good for you to stop."

I felt my cock throb.

And then I felt her hand palm my bulge, through my jeans. I groaned.

I mean, she's tall, blonde, those big tits...she's got that presence, about her," Lexie whispered, quietly. "She's usually the one guys gravitate towards. The one everybody in a room listens to."

As Lexie spoke, she moved to unzip me. I didn't stop her.

"And I know you find her attractive. Maybe even that you're a bit infatuated with her," she continued.

"I'm not - ah -" As I tried to deny it, Lexie pulled my cock out, and I let out a hiss of breath as she ran one of her hands along my sticky length.

"You are, Phil. But that's not the point. The point is..." she started stroking me, slowly, as she spoke. "...that when you were fucking me, and she wanted you to stop...you didn't."

She was moving her hand slow, almost more fondling my cock than actually jerking me off.

"I-I was trying to listen..." I wasn't sure if I was trying to argue with her, defend myself, or what. My brain was on autopilot, my attention on her hand, which she was slowly wrapping around my length more firmly, her slow fondles becoming steady strokes.

"Oh, I know you were. That's what made it so hot. I felt too good. It didn't matter what she said. You had to keep fucking me."

"You were so tight," I groaned, feeling her hand on me. I still felt confused, but the immediacy of the physical sensation short-circuited the complicated morass of feelings I had been mired in. I welcomed the sudden simplicity, my horizon narrowing to two things: her hand and my cock.

Lexie was obviously loving it, too. "Mmm, that's right. You had to give my needy pussy what it wanted. You couldn't stop yourself, could you?"

Mute, I shook my head. She was pumping faster, now.

"That's what made me cum, i-if I'm honest." Lexie said, softly, breathlessly. I could see that she was staring down at my cock, now, watching as she stroked it. "It didn't matter that you weren't listening to her, that it was going to make you cum in no time. You needed to fuck me so bad, you couldn't help it..."

My own breathing was ragged. I could feel the orgasm building. "I...I'm going to cum now, if you keep going," I admitted.

Lexie let out a little hiss of desire. "Yeah? Of course you are." I felt her hand pick up speed.

"W-wait," I managed. "I-I don't want to make a mess in the car-"

"Oh, but you're going to, aren't you? Your cock can't help it. I love that you're going to blow a load all over your car, even though you know it's a bad idea. My hand just feels too good, you like the way I'm stroking your dick too much to stop yourself."

She gave me a few more pumps.

"C'mon, s-slow-"

But Lexie was relentless. "You don't want me to stop. Just like you didn't want to stop in the last appointment, with Stacy. You wanted this too much. You like how much I love that quick-cumming cock-"

Nobody had ever spoken this way to me before, and the effect was immediate. I let out a strangled, "Wait, no, nngh-"

And then I went over the edge. The first spatter of cum went across the steering wheel.

To her credit, after that, Lexie leaned over and put her mouth over the head of my cock. It meant that the second rope of cum hit her in the face, but after that, the rest of my load went in her mouth.

"F-fuck-" I managed to gut out as I felt her lips wrap around me.

After that it was just wordless grunts from me, and pleased little moans from her, as she bobbed up and down on the head of my cock, swallowing my load.

As I finished, I leaned back in the driver's seat, trying to catch my breath. Lexie sat up also, letting out a satisfied sigh herself.

"Lexie, that was-"

She cut me off once again. "Fuck, that was hot. Now I'm really glad I'm not your therapist."

She squirmed a little, in her seat, then gave me a smile. "Look, Phil. Just at least consider whether this is really a problem you need to solve. Or whether it's something you need to try to have fun with, instead."

I paused in the midst of wiping the cum off my steering wheel with some paper towels I kept in the console.

Then I nodded.

She opened the door. "Let me know if you want to hang out again sometime."

I watched her go, feeling conflicted.

Then -- glancing in my rear-view mirror -- I realized there was someone else watching her go, too.

Becca.

She was twenty or thirty yards away, so maybe she hadn't seen what we'd been doing. But she was close enough even in the dim light to clearly see Lexie leaving my car. Her eyes met mine, briefly, in the rear view mirror. I couldn't make out her expression -- and then she turned away, headed across the parking lot to her own vehicle.

Well, shit.