Note: This is the second installment of a multi-part story. It is a follow-up to A Cure for Panic: Sessions 1 and 2
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***Session 3
"Hey there, welcome back!" Janet the receptionist greeted me with her friendly, almost too familiar, smile again the next week.
I was a little early, so I took a seat in the waiting room.
"Anything you need, hun? Water? Somethin' to read?" Janet asked in her charming accent.
"Water sounds good"
Janet stood and walked to a nearby mini fridge. Bending at the waist, she reached down to open the door. Her ass stretched her form-fitting jeans and I couldn't help but stare. Janet's body looked built for making babies and it seemed to beg me to line myself up behind her and push inside. It was arousing but I also started getting a choking feeling.
"Here you go," Janet said handing me a bottle.
"Thank you, it's very appreciated" I said taking the water with a shaking hand.
"Why it's my pleasure! You just go on an' let me know if you need anything else." She winked at me. "We work as a team here to make sure all of our patients are comfortable and cared for."
I averted my eyes from her child-bearing hips and tried to calm down. After a few minutes, Janet looked at her computer. "You can go back now, sweetie" she said.
I walked to the therapy room and found Seema already there waiting for me. She was wearing the same short skirt as the previous week, this time paired with a sheer light blue top and dark purple lipstick.
"It's good to see you!" said Seema, "Before we begin, I just want you to know that Dr. Duke will again be observing from the other room today."
"Ok," I said, glancing at my reflection in the mirror behind Seema.
"How did your week go?"
I told her about the success I'd had with my homework practice, but that I'd still had a panic attack when I tried to be intimate with my wife.
Seema nodded in understanding. "Ok, well we wouldn't expect that things would get completely better in just one week. You did a great job sticking with the homework! That will really speed things along. Remember, in this therapeutic model..."
I watched Seema as she spoke to me and found myself not hearing everything she was telling me about the theoretical basis for the method she was using to treat my panic disorder. I became distracted watching the movement of her purple lips and the gestures of her slim hands, which, just a week ago, had been splattered with my spunk.
When her gaze left me for a moment, I looked at her chest where the dark tint of her areolas was just visible through the thin fabric of her shirt. I noticed an urge to reach out and circle a finger around her nipple.
"...thus increasing habituation to the sensations and reducing your panic. Any questions?"
"Um, no" I said.
"Ok, then let's get back to our exposure exercises," she said. "You can sit here at the computer."
We switched positions and Seema told me to find the video we had watched before.
"Please, um, touch yourself again, as we found that to be an important factor last week."
I opened my pants and saw the same couple start to fuck on the screen. I had seen this scene so many times by now that it was getting boring. I got a little aroused but didn't feel many panic symptoms.
After a minute, Seema asked, "What is your SUDS rating now?"
"Two," I replied.
"Oh good, you really did practice this week! Fantastic that your panic symptoms have come down so much!" Seema mugged to the mirror as she said this. "I think we should try a different clip this week, then. Can you find something else with a pregnancy theme?"
I searched around for a bit and played one called "Teacher Tries to get Pregnant." I watched the teacher and student start having sex in a "classroom" suspiciously devoid of any wall décor.
"SUDS now?"
"Maybe three."
"Ok, try a different video," Seema said, the tension rising in her voice.
I tried two more videos, but by the end I was back down to a SUDS of two.
"Well," said Seema slowly, "You're watching the videos and not feeling panicky, so we've made excellent progress. I think maybe..." and her confidence was growing now, "maybe we're pretty much at the end of your treatment already!"
"But what about my panic attack yesterday?"
"Umm, well..." Seema was trailing off when there was a loud knock on the door, startling her. She rose and opened it and standing in the hallway was Dr. Madeline.
"Seema, can we speak for a minute?" Her eyes swung down to my exposed member and I suddenly felt very vulnerable. I quickly got redressed.
Without further comment, Seema and Dr. Madeline left the office. I soon heard muffled voices in the observation room. My curiosity got the best of me, so I moved to the wall beside the one-way glass and put my ear against it.
"...'t be giving up now!" Dr. Madeline sounded angry. "He's clearly not over these attacks yet. You must to find a way to elicit them. Intensify the stimuli! If you ever want to become a good clinician, you can't just go by the book. You have to be creative. You must take risks. You need to stop being so....conventional!"
"Yes doctor," Seema said deferentially.
"Ok, get to it," said Dr. Madeline sternly. "This is your last chance."
I got back into my chair and Seema reentered the room shortly afterwards. She looked flustered.
"I'm sorry for the interruption," she said. "I think I need to dig deeper into what happened with your wife this week. Could you tell me more about that attack?"
"Well, I was feeling good about the exposure exercises, so I told my wife I was ready to try sex again. We were in the bedroom, and she undressed and got onto the bed. The next thing I knew I was on the floor, hyperventilating."
"What exactly was she doing when you started to feel your symptoms coming on?"
"I mean..."
"Please, the details are important."
"Ok, uh, my wife had her legs spread apart. She was..." I hesitated and Seema looked me directly in the eyes with an almost desperate look. "She was holding her...vagina...open. It felt like I could see all the way into her womb. Oddly, it felt like she could devour me."
"Ah, so seeing the symbol of procreation right there in the flesh elicited the threat of being overwhelmed—consumed even—by offspring."
"Maybe, I mean, I guess that's possible."
"Interesting. We need to determine a way to replicate that moment. Do you think we can find a video that is similar?"
"Seema, I think I'm done with the porn. It isn't really triggering panic anymore after our exercises this week. Plus, I know it isn't real, and it's not me in those videos anyway."
"Hmm, ok." Seema looked dejected and out of options. The room was silent except for the buzzing of the florescent lights.
"What can I do?" I asked. I wanted to help her. Dr. Madeline was being rough on her, but I thought she had been doing a great job.
Seema laughed weakly. "Hey, who's the therapist here?" She paused. "Seriously, though, I wish I knew what to do next." She shifted in the couch, then gazed at the one-way glass in defeat. I looked at the glass too, and the angle left me staring right into the reflection of Seema's sad eyes.
Seema broke eye contact and, deep in rumination, glanced down at my crotch. A few moments had passed when, in an instant, she perked up. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "last week things weren't going so well, but then you caught me doing something I shouldn't have been doing—and it got your physiology aroused."
"Ok. Right." I felt guilty and wondered where this was going.
"Is it possible that seeing me, um, enjoying myself, was a trigger for you. Like with your wife yesterday?"
"I guess it's possible, yes." I replied.
"We need to pursue this avenue," Seema declared decisively. "Please return to the couch. You can remove your pants this time."
I stripped to my boxers and settled back down on the couch. Seema rose to stand in front of me, close enough that I could have reached out and touched her.
"Let's proceed," she said. With a deliberate motion, she reached up under her skirt, rustled in the fabric briefly, then slid a small black thong down her legs and threw it on the floor behind her. She stepped forward, positioning her legs around my own slightly separated knees. Level with my widening eyes, her disproportionately bulging thighs and hips swelled out from beneath the skirt.
"Lift it," she commanded.
I hesitated a moment, then reached forward and raised the fabric of her skirt. There, inches from my face, were the thick, textured brown folds of Seema's cunt. Her lightly-trimmed bush was full, but tweezed into a wide-topped triangle aiming right for her honeypot.
"Remember this?" she said, her voice deepening. "Do you remember how the video you chose last week got me a little too hot?"
"Yes." I felt the blood rushing down between my legs again.
"I was watching that Indian woman and I could see myself in her. What if I told you that as I touched myself, I was imagining YOUR cock caressing me? Your cock pushing into me. Were you thinking about that too? That it was me begging for your cum?"