Catharsis Under Locdown

I release my demons under lockdown in an unexpected way

Author's notes:

1. Catharsis - the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions. This can be done in many ways; the ways in which Trevor dealt with them is one of these.

2. The worldwide setting for the story is factual, based on the lockdowns recently experienced in many countries as a result of the Covid-19 infection.

3. All characters are 18 years or older.

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It began with an email:

'Dear Scorpius1945 -- my name is Skyla and I am studying for my PhD in psychology, investigating the effects that traumas which a person experiences in their youth have on their later life. Currently I am on a world tour and I am using this as an opportunity to interview people who write for Literotica, hoping to ascertain whether there are any common factors that both enable and drive them to write erotic stories. I notice that you have written many erotic stories, some of which involve bdsm, and would very much like to interview you in an attempt to discover why you are driven to write these stories, and to incorporate this data, anonymized of course, into my thesis. If you are willing to be interviewed within the next few weeks, I would be very pleased to hear from you. If you would prefer to keep your past traumas a secret, I fully understand. However, in my experience I have found that life is far more pleasant if you undergo a cathartic release of the negative emotions associated with past traumas you have experienced and believe that an interview along the lines that I propose could be beneficial. I look forward to hearing from you if you choose to reply.

Skyla'

I read it twice, thinking back to my own youth, dredging up past events, almost forgotten memories that I had almost successfully hidden from my conscious mind. I felt a huge weight on my shoulders as I mentally relived some of these events, for a few moments marvelling at my reactions to those at the time. What a mess. Was this really why I had these urges to write erotica, especially violent erotica?

My wife, Wendy, a very successful operator of cultural tours internationally, would be away for a month, leaving in a few days. Skyla's timing was excellent; I could become deeply engrossed in my past as I remembered, explained and, hopefully, cleared these traumas from my early life. I quickly decided that it was an opportunity not to be missed, assuming that it wasn't some scam. I turned back to the keyboard.

'Hi Skyla -- thanks for your email, most unexpected. Yes, I am very willing for you to visit and to interview me about my earlier life. With any sort of luck, I'll be able to clear it all out and be free, at long last. Are you by any chance a psychotherapist also? Just joking.

My wife will be heading overseas with a cultural group (she has made a business of this so it happens frequently) at the end of the week for about a month, so if you wanted to visit while she's away, we would have the house to ourselves and could interview uninterrupted. Please let me know if that would suit you and what your travel schedule will be.

I look forward to meeting you. Meantime, travel safely.

S'

Skyla replied a few hours later, enthusiastically thanking me for agreeing to meet with her and asking if the dates she proposed were suitable. They were, so I agreed to meet her flight at the airport. During the next few days, I was busy assisting Wendy with last minute things, but still found the time to mention Skyla's visit, although Wendy had many other last-minute things on her mind. I finally took her to the airport, farewelling her with a passionate kiss before she went through the barrier to the departure lounge. I drove home slowly and poured myself a beer, and sat on the sunlit patio, making the mental adjustment from the hectic departure ritual to the peace and tranquillity of living alone for the next few weeks. Then I remembered Skyla, due in four days' time.

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I wore my sky-blue jacket to the airport, as I had told Skyla I would, and waited for her to come through the exit doors from arrivals. I was looking for a young woman wearing a denim skirt and fire-engine red top, as she described it, surely distinctive enough not to miss. We found each other after a short time, each waving to the other in recognition, although we were meeting for the first time. I gazed at her with admiration as she wended her way towards me, moving gracefully and easily through the milling crowd until she was standing in front of me. She was beautiful. Some chemistry passed between us and we hugged each other spontaneously, despite the warnings about maintaining a safe distance due to the possibility of spreading the coronavirus.

"I'm assuming that you're Skyla," I said, "Very pleased to meet you. I'm Trevor, by the way. Good flight?"

"Tiring, but otherwise fine. I slept for much of it so hopefully I won't be too jet lagged."

I took her larger bag and led the way to the exit, found my car, loaded bags and Skyla, then headed home, engaging in small talk as I eased my way through the traffic. Once home, I unloaded her bags from the car and installed her in the guest suite, before giving her a brief tour of the house, ending by escorting her to the sunroom, where I poured glasses of wine and we sat in the comfortable chairs.

"To research," I toasted, considering that it was this that had brought us together.

She chuckled musically, her smile lighting the whole room. "Yes, to research."

We sipped our drinks and chatted about inconsequential things. I was particularly interested in the research she was undertaking and she was very happy to tell me as much as she knew about her current topic. It soon became clear that she was interested in all aspects of sexual psychology, her current project being her second PhD thesis in this area, the first investigating the manner in which marriage changed sexual response between couples, often due to a fear of commitment held by one or both of them, she summarized. She also clarified the present topic, suggesting to me that our earliest sexually related experiences could have huge subconscious effects on our sexuality and sexual performance later in life, especially with developing males, in whom these subconscious memories may prevent the healthy development of emotional and particularly sexual maturity.

"So, what we have here is that males entering marriage or committed relationships in their twenties still may only have the emotional maturity of a young teen. This explains this demographic's common attitudes towards females, especially in aspects of sexuality. So, even after marriage they perpetuate the drinking culture, the off-color jokes about sex and women, and the inability or unwillingness of males to seek help for their sexual inadequacies, even though these may be seriously affecting their relationships," she concluded.

I thought back through my own life and realized she was definitely correct in my case. I could see clearly, probably for the first time, why my first marriage ended on the rocks and why my present marriage, in which we both dealt with sexual matters in a mature and open manner, was so much more fulfilling and enjoyable, as well as freeing each of us to have relationships outside of our marriage without serious retribution or feelings of jealousy.

"Looking back over my life, I would definitely agree with you. And you think our earliest sexual experiences and parental control measures program our lives for this?" I asked.

"Absolutely. And you'll probably reach this same conclusion once we do the interview. Hopefully you may also be able to clear this baggage out so your sex life will improve no end."

The sun was setting when we finished the bottle of wine, and moved to the kitchen, where I prepared a stir-fry meal which we took to the lounge and ate, watching the news on television. It was much the same, focusing on the spread of the present coronavirus across Asia and into Europe.

"Do you think it'll come here?" asked Skyla.

"I don't know, but I guess so. We are quite isolated here, but with international travel what it is these days, it's almost certain to arrive sometime soon. May already be here. Maybe you already have it."

"Yes, it's possibly already at home, I would expect, but I hope I don't have it. The long incubation period is the main problem; they say you can be passing the disease on for a couple of weeks before you even know you have it, but I don't necessarily believe that. Research is still in its infancy on this bug."

We remained silent as a government spokesperson came on and told us that we were going into level 2 tomorrow, so travel should be restricted and people should return home if possible.

"Well, that's not happening," commented Skyla. "What would happen if I got marooned here for a while?"

"No problem. Freezer's full, we have a garden outside full of vegetables, certainly we have space here and you'd be welcome to stay as long as necessary, or as long as you wished." My eyes unconsciously scanned her body as I thought once more that she certainly wasn't hard to look at.

"Oh, thank you," she replied, resting her hand on my arm as we sat beside each other on the sofa in front of the set. "What about your wife?"

"Well, she may be marooned overseas with her cultural touring group. Time will tell. She's a very competent and resourceful leader so I'm certain she'll take care of herself and her group. We have email, Facebook and Skype so she'll undoubtedly stay in contact."

"OK, it'd still be scary with a group depending on you in a foreign country."

I turned the television off after noting that tomorrow would again be a fine day.

"So, what sort of entertainment are you interested in for the evening?" I asked.

"Well, depends what you have in mind. In my time it's around 2am, so I'm feeling sleepy; no entertainment required. But if you want to play cards or games, or just sit and chat, that's fine by me. I'll try to stay awake," she chuckled.

"Ok, early night for me, late for you then." We took our plates and glasses to the kitchen, where I loaded the dishwasher, then we bid each other good night. I would have loved to have held her and kissed her tender lips, and maybe that desire somehow transferred to her, because, after taking a few steps towards her room, she turned, grinned, then returned to me and embraced me. Our lips found each other's and we kissed gently and passionately as our bodies pressed together. It was brief, and she pulled away guiltily after a few short seconds.

"Ooops, sorry. My emotions took control."

"Fine, I'm not sorry so give your emotions free rein anytime you wish," I grinned.

"I might just take you up on that some time," she replied with a coy look, then gave me a wink, turned on her heel and strode off to her room without a backward glance.

Once in my room I became aware of my arousal. I stripped and turned on the shower, then stood under the warm water thinking about the evening and what had just happened. Why had I become so turned on by a woman who was about the age of my grown children? Was it the context, or was it the fact we'd been discussing sexual topics? Or was it just that she seemed to desire me? Or was I simply imagining the whole thing? She had given me the distinct impression that she was available and willing to have more than a professional relationship, but why? And what if I'd misread her body language or misconstrued her intentions? I finished my shower, dried myself down, pulled on a gown and went to my office, where I checked emails and talked with Wendy for a while on Skype. She told me that it was likely that her country would be closing the borders in the next day or two and it looked like she'd be there for a while as there was no way to cut the tour short and return with the group. I had previously told her about Skyla and the interviews, so told her that Skyla had arrived and we'd be starting the process tomorrow, I guessed. She wished me well and made a couple of lewd suggestions, then we said good night, or for her, good morning, and terminated the call.

I didn't sleep well that night; my mind was too full of thoughts about possibilities to allow restful sleep. One disadvantage of writing erotic stories is that many everyday occurrences can be seen as plots for a story, and my imagination would run wild even seeing a pretty girl smile at me in the street, without the added consideration of her throwing her arms around me and pressing her warm, curvaceous body against mine as she kissed me full on the lips. I must have eventually slept because light was seeping past the shade when I awoke.

It was supposed to be a warm, sunny day so I was unsurprised when Skyla walked into the kitchen as I was preparing breakfast, dressed as though for the beach, a brief top covering her ample breasts and her cutoff shorts about two inches too high for me to retain my composure, leaving a well-toned and tanned bare midriff. She walked straight up to me, wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on my lips, just like last night, her body once again pressed against mine. I returned the embrace and kiss, then after a few seconds noticed that my hands had unthinkingly moved down her bare back and were cupping her ass cheeks. Guiltily I broke the kiss and embrace, releasing her as I turned to check the coffee.

We ate breakfast in the sunroom, enjoying the warmth of the early morning sun as we chatted about inconsequential things as well as the epidemic that was spreading across the world.

"I was talking with Wendy last night and she tells me that it's likely she'll be marooned as the borders are closing and flights out are impossible," I said.

"So, is she coming home early?"

"No, she's checked and it's not possible. She can't just leave her group, so it's everybody or nobody."

"Yeah, guess so. Does that mean we've got longer for interviews?"

"Well, she knows you're here, and she's fine with that, so there never was any time constraint. Possibly the biggest constraint is the possibility that the government restricts travel here. That would mean you wouldn't be able to leave."

She grinned at me broadly. "And that would be a real problem, wouldn't it, darling," she replied facetiously, placing her soft, warm hand gently on my bare thigh. My heart jumped in anticipation at hearing her use 'darling' for the first time.

"Yes, it surely would," I replied equally facetiously, placing my hand on hers. We sat for a few moments, each thinking they knew what the other was thinking as we scanned each other's face for subtle clues. Then the spell was broken. I collected the dishes, placed them in the dishwasher, then set it going.

"So, would you like to start the interviews this morning?" I asked.

"Absolutely. I'll just collect the recorder and my stuff. The sunroom will be perfect if you like."

I liked; so, a few minutes later, we were sitting opposite each other, her recorder running as she introduced the series of interviews for whoever would listen to the record. Then she began the interview.

"So, Trevor, tell me a bit about your youth. What experiences did you have as a young person that could in any way be related to your developing sexual preferences in later life?"

In my mind I went back through the years, back to my early memories, when I was a shy, callow youth exploring the world of young women and sexuality for the first time, with little preparation. I thought back to my school days and decided to start there.

"My school days were horrible, a far as I remember. I seemed to be out of step with my peers, being the youngest person in my class, so I was emotionally immature, especially as my parents had been over-protective. I felt a keen sense of rejection; my immature self believing that my parents didn't want me so they sent me to school so they could look after my younger brother. Life was not fair, I felt. We lived next to the school so I was allowed to go home for lunch. I had very few friends at school; possibly the only real friend I had was the kid next door. We'd spend hours sitting on the fence between our houses talking about anything and everything. Then we moved away from there, I changed schools and I'd lost even that friend. I haven't spoken to him since."

"Sounds like you had a pretty lonely childhood," commented Skyla, "Obviously your parents told you nothing about the birds and the bees before your brother arrived, how about afterwards?"

"Huh, nothing really. I listen to my young grandkids chattering on quite matter-of-factly about penises and vaginas and wish I'd had their upbringing. They say that you bring up your kids like your parents brought you up, or the opposite. Our kids were definitely brought up the opposite of how I was raised. I must have been about ten, I guess, when I even found out that boys and girls were different 'down there'. Somehow, I found out that girls grew babies inside them and then they popped out, but in my young mind, everybody had a penis. I had one, so why wouldn't everyone else have one? I never saw my parents naked and, in fact, once I made the cardinal sin of not waiting to be asked to enter my parents' bedroom and caught a quick glimpse of my mother naked from the waist up. Must have been something very bad about seeing the breasts at which I'd fed a few years earlier. I was growled at and told to always knock and wait before I entered.

"So, the question I had was if a baby grew inside a woman, how did it possibly fit out through her penis? That was a problem that I couldn't solve and I had nobody I felt I could ask and no confidence to ask it anyway. The problem partly resolved itself when we visited friends of my parents at the beach. They had a beach house so after our swim we went there to wash off the sand so it wouldn't get in the car. We washed our feet and legs but the young daughter of the friends, who was about three, simply stripped off her swim suit and stood under the tap to wash off the sand from all over her body. I had a tremendous shock at how deformed she was. She didn't have a penis!! How did she pee? This really troubled me for many months until I looked it up in an encyclopedia in the school library and from that I learnt about the differences between genders.

"The first and only time that my parents ever discussed sex was when they presented me with a book. I still remember the title -- 'If Only They Had Waited'. It was about a young couple who had sex and she became pregnant, and all the horrific things that occurred afterwards, the regrets, remorse, financial difficulties. In short, it described how this little baby ruined their lives. I cannot imagine this book being printed, let alone read or believed, in this day and age. That was it. My total sex education from my parents. Nothing about contraception, love, dating, or sexual activity.

Skyla pressed pause on the recorder. "Are you still sexually active?" she asked.

"Yes, but it's a bit more difficult now. Firstly, Wendy had an episiotomy with one of our children and that causes pain during vaginal sex. So, we tend to simply use vibrators and indulge in vibrator assisted mutual masturbation."

"Do you still get hard?"

"Oh, yes, but sometimes not at the right time and I often lose my erection at the wrong moment. I don't want to hurt her so I believe that has conditioned me to soften before penetration can occur or after only a few seconds of penetration."

"Yes, that's certainly a possibility," replied Skyla, a grin coming over her face, "Maybe we could check that theory out some time later if you wish."

I thought over her ambiguous statement as I left to make another coffee. Once I returned, I asked her how the interview was going.