Cuck Therapy Pt 04

"This is bullshit."

I'd been debating with myself all morning about whether or not to call. After two hours of being completely unproductive at work, I decided there was nothing for it. I couldn't get it all out of my mind. I'd waited on hold for twenty minutes.

"Fucking bullshit. I know what you are doing."

"John?" Brunder's voice was calm and inquisitive.

"Yeah, John," I said, pacing. "Have you got a lot of husbands calling you with reason to be this pissed? I bet you do, actually."

"I can't disclose information about my other patients, John, you can appreciate that."

She was fucking with me.

"You're fucking with me."

"Maybe a little. You're coming on pretty hot, John, and you're being a little rude."

Okay, fair.

But since two nights previous, the night my wife told me how much she enjoyed being her lover's 'little slut', I'd only been allowed to jerk off while she told me about her liaisons with him, and it rankled me. It rankled me more that I couldn't just put a stop to it. That I asked for more. The closest I got to sex with my wife for the last two days was getting on top of her and stroking myself, my balls against the back of her hand on her pussy as she rubbed one out, recounting one of countless orgasms her lover gave her, while I shot my cum on her belly. One time, she got on her knees and fingered herself while describing how he took her doggy-style and I shot it all over her asshole and her pussy and her hand while imagining his cock stroking inside her instead of her fingers. Imagining him behind her instead of me, plowing her pussy with his hands all over her sexy ass, making her squeal. It was a perverse thrill.

What the fuck was wrong with me that I needed more of this torture? That I asked her for it, to tell me more while I jerked off to her stories of betrayal. It was Brunder's fault that Lisa wouldn't let me fuck her, that this was our only sexual outlet. "Doctor's order's" was Lisa's refrain.

I had called Brunder to tell her off, but also she was the only one who I could talk to about this, who might understand me, or explain me to me. I couldn't talk to anyone else about this.

"John, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Talk to me."

"I want it to end."

"You want what to end?"

"This... bullshit."

A pause on the line.

"Can you come in to see me, John? Today, I have a cancellation at 2:30."

I sighed.

"John?"

"Is that not... irregular? To see one party of a couple in couple's counseling?"

"Well...."

"But

you

are fucking irregular, aren't you?" I snapped.

A brief silence on the phone.

"2:30, then, John?"

"Fine."

___

I had rehearsed what I wanted to say in the car. It seemed good at the time. I was proud of myself, too, for not breaking and asking Lisa to get the videos that the fucker had made with her. I felt it put me in a better position with Brunder. She was so fucking sure I'd break. I was sure that's why Brunder had put the prohibition on porn, too. To make me desperate. But I didn't even need porn, will all the jacking off while my wife told me about...

Fuck. Everything was so fucked. Why was I putting up with it? I wasn't going to anymore.

Sitting in front of Brunder, though, with her cool, piercing eyes, I lost all confidence in what I'd rehearsed. It was too easy to see her chopping it down effortlessly. I realized I had to find a new strategy in the moment. We sat silently for a moment.

"Water?" she asked.

"Thanks."

Brunder got up and poured me a glass, and then brought it over. I got up to took it take it, then sat and drank, while Brunder stood watching me a moment. Then she surprised me by pulling the other seat closer and sitting beside me instead of going back behind her desk. In spite of myself, I enjoyed her proximity.

"John," she said, her knee almost touching mine, leaning slightly forward in her chair. I couldn't help notice the heft and shape of her breasts against her shirt. Her long, wavy blonde hair bracketed her sharp, but attractive facial features.

"You were upset when you called. Talk to me about what is upsetting you."

For a moment I lost myself in wondering how she talked to her lovers. What kind of men did she choose as her lovers?

"I..." I halted. I didn't know how to start.

"You said 'I know where this is going'. I sensed some anxiety about where you thought this was going. Where do you think this is going that gives you anxiety?"

"I think... um..." I wanted to find words to dispell the nonsense, to make clear where the line was, without making accusations that couldn't be supported by the facts. "I worry it's leading somewhere that... is more in Lisa's interests than mine."

Brunder nodded.

"And by Lisa's interests, you mean... what?"

Brunder's clear blue eyes were on mine and then dropped to my hands, which I only then noticed were fidgeting. I stopped and leaned back in my chair, putting a hand on each rest. I held her look. Were we thinking the same thing?

"John," she said, "have you two been conducting yourselves as I recommended?"

I nodded, with a grim smile, glad to have a tack I could grab on to.

"Yes, yes, we have, Dr. Brunder. And I would like you to explain why I can't fuck my wife, frankly."

Brunder nodded.

"My recommendation that you and Lisa refrain from sex for a week is part of an important therapy, John. Can I ask you if you've ever before gone a week without having sex with Lisa? I mean, prior to you discovering her infidelity?"

I seethed.

"I get the sense that sex has picked up since then. But before then, how often?"

"Look," I said, ignoring her question. "I was ready to leave her. I still am, actually. I'm fucking pissed. We made vows. I was faithful. She fucked around on me. I don't know how to find my way to trusting her again, do you understand? That's what I need. I need to understand what the fuck happened to my life, and how it can be fixed. And I really don't understand how jerking off while my wife tells dirty stories about herself with another man is going to achieve any of that."

Brunder nodded.

"Good, okay, thank you, John. You just said a lot. I want to make sure I understand everything you said. If I understand you correctly, these are the things you are telling me. First of all, you feel betrayed, right? Yes. And, secondly, you don't understand why Lisa did what she did? Yes, okay. And you don't know how to fix it, by which, you mean, can I say, how to find a way forward in a happy marriage? Right. And finally, my methods are confusing to you, and you have anxiety about that."

I had nodded to each of her points.

"Good," she went on. "To the first point. You were betrayed, you say." I nodded. "Yes, you were. Everyone is agreed. You, Lisa, and I. Lisa made a promise, and she broke it. That's what we are dealing with. That's the big thing in all this. You do accept the possibility that you can forgive that and move on, though, otherwise we wouldn't be here, right? Yes. Okay. Now the second point. You don't understand why she did it?"

Brunder stopped speaking, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Right," I said.

Brunder leaned back. "Really? You don't yet understand why she did it?"

She seemed disappointed.

"What?" I said. "I mean... no, I don't actually. I am a good husband. I listen. I am affectionate. I'm a... I'm a generous... I do my best to please her. In every way."

"Sexually, you mean?"

"Yes. I mean, to please her in most ways, not just sexually, but, yeah, I... I do whatever I can to please her in bed."

Brunder nodded.

"After you discovered that Lisa had had an affair, other than coming to me for counseling, were there any other steps you took to understand why she did it?"

"Well, I mean... of course, I asked her."

"And you didn't find whatever she offered as an explanation satisfying?"

"Well, she said..."

"Yes," Brunder interrupted. "I think she offered similar reasons on our first session, did she not?"

I nodded.

"But you obviously weren't satisfied? No. Why?"

"I felt... she... "

"John," she cut in, a little impatiently, "in that situation, being confronted with having misbehaved in a way that upset you so much, and wanting to save her marriage, anything she said would be just performative, wouldn't it? This is what people do when they are caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You'd have done the same. That's why you were not satisfied, is it not?"

"Performative?"

"I mean, the truth is out the window - she just wanted to find a way out of the jam she was in. Her words had nothing to do with the truth. She was just saying whatever she thought would be most likely to get herself out of trouble."

I nodded.

"So no satisfaction there. Did you take any other steps to figure out why she did what she did, having decided you would not get the truth out of her?"

I sighed.

"You know, I... I guess, I did what anyone does when they want answers now."

"You googled 'why do women cheat'?"

I felt foolish.

"Something like that."

"And you discovered that, according to the wisdom of the internet, women cheat for a number of reasons, like a need to feel desired or adored, or validated, or to feel a connection that's lacking in their relationship?"

"Something like that."

Brunder nodded.

"And that didn't satisfy you?"

I shrugged.

"I'm not the expert," I said, defensively, and annoyed.. "That's why I'm here."

"John, it doesn't take an expert. This is the easy part. All that talk about how women cheat because they need to feel adored, or validated.... I think you're smart enough to figure out that it's all horseshit. It's just snake-oil pedaled by by hacks writing copy for women's magazines, and, shamefully, by most psychologists and 'regular' marriage counselors - because that kind of explanation makes it possible to drag you down into an interminable abyss of soft, meaningless talk about how all you need to do is learn to talk to each other in the proper... 'language of love', or some such toxically inane nonsense. And if you buy it, you have to learn to speak like a babbling fool, until you finally see it for what it is. Useless. Meaningless. Soul-killing. Hucksterism."

She held my eyes.

"Or am I wrong? Is that what it is, John? You think maybe if you had cuddled her a bit more, put a little more effort into making her feel adored and validated, listened more closely to how her day went... you think that if you did those things better and more often, that Mark would have failed to seduce your wife that night, and on the many subsequent occasions? Do you, John? I'm asking."

Our eyes were locked.

"Is that what you are going to reduce this life crisis down to, John? You think you just came up a little short in the snuggle department? And now all you each have to do is to tell the other how appreciated they are and open up about your emotional needs? The town's full of therapists that are happy to let you believe that's all it is at an hourly rate, John. Go see them if you think I'm so fucking

irregular

. Go find out how far that gets you, and how it all works out. I've got a long waitlist. I don't need you."

I felt chastened.

"Look, I'm sorry that I - "

"You're not confused about why she did it, John," she plowed on, ignoring my apology. "Tell me why she did it," she demanded. "Have we really gotten nowhere?"

I looked at the floor and took a deep breath.

"Why, John?"

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," I said, quoting something she'd said earlier.

"Say it."

I looked at her.

"She just wanted a good fuck," I said.

Brunder held my eyes, and then nodded slowly.

We were silent a moment. Her expression softened.

"You okay?" she asked, conciliatorily, leaning back, easing off.

I nodded.

"You're strong enough for this, John," she said firmly.

I nodded again.

"Water?"

"I'm fine. Thanks," I said. "So, look, where does that leave us? Is it hopeless? How do I stop it from happening again?"

"Okay, before bringing in new topics of conversation, let's get back to what you said was on your mind. The other issues you brought up involved anxiety about how therapy is proceeding, right?"

I nodded.

"It must seem strange to you to have someone you hardly know inserting themselves into your life. Into your sex life, even. Changing what happens in your life. And why? Well, John, where you and Lisa are right now is unsustainable. You will not be able to continue with her in your life with your level of jealousy and resentment and lack of trust. Your marriage will eventually fail. Unless we can change your mind. I don't mean something as simple as making a decision. People talk about forgiving or not forgiving, as though it were a decision you just decide on. No. If it were that simple we'd all be saints. It requires you to change your mind in the sense of changing how your brain behaves. Because your mind is only your brain. It is not seperate. It is an organ, and can be trained like a muscle. If you want it to do a thing, you must behave in a certain way. Consistently. If you want to learn to play the piano, you don't decide and that's it. No. You have to sit at it, day after day, playing, practicing. Then, gradually, your mind changes, and you can do it."

I was staring at the floor. She leaned forward to put herself closer to my eyeline.

"You cannot forgive Lisa by pretending it didn't happen. You have to face your life with her as you have lived it. You have to face what has been done by each of you, and you have to face each other and yourselves as you really are. And what you have, or don't have, to offer each other."

A pause.

"And it's important after a trauma that we feel our feelings.When someone we love dies, we need to grieve, and not turn away from our grief. A traumatic event like the discovery of an infidelity is similar in that we need to confront our feelings, even if we don't want to. I can't tell you how to feel about it, I can only advise you, and find way to help you to

feel

these feelings. John?"

I looked at her.

"We are told life is going to be one way. As we grow up, we absorb stories about what life is, and what marriage is. What happens in it. It is significant that fairy tales

end

in a wedding, and go no further. Because after the wedding the

real

shit goes down, John. The grown-up stuff. The stuff we can't tell the kids. The stuff they couldn't tell us when we were kids."

She paused.

"You have to be ready to go beyond the fairy tales and face the grown-up stuff, John."

She waited.

"Okay?"

I nodded.

"Okay. And, John, another thing that is unsustainable, unless changes are made, is the level of eroticism between you and Lisa right now. You two have a lot of heat right now. But a lot of that is going to cool unless we find new ways for you two to maintain and renew that fuel. Otherwise, you'll end up sinking back into a sex life that is insufficiently satisfying to maintain your relationship. I will help you to find a way, but it will require some difficult work and sacrifices on your part, and you are going to need to trust me. Do you trust me, John?"

She put her hand on my knee.

I sighed.

"Look, we've been talking a lot about me, and what I have to do," I said. "But what got us here in the first place is that my wife fucked around on me. What I need, more than anything, is to know that she's not going to fuck around on me again. I don't see any work being done to address that, or to find someway of making sure she doesn't do it again."

Brunder gave me an encouraging squeeze on my knee and a warm smile.

"John, I promise you, it is my chief priority to ensure that that will not be a problem in the future. Okay?"

I sighed, a little relieved.

"Okay," I said. "That's all I ask."

___

After the session with Brunder, I went to work, but couldn't keep my mind on much. Leaving Kerr, Brunder and Associates, I felt like I had gotten some satisfaction and reassurance. That gradually ebbed away. What had been achieved, really? It was like Brunder had cast some kind of spell on me that slowly faded, leaving me with a renewed sense of dread.

I got home before Lisa. Brunder had told me she'd have to disclose to Lisa that I had called and visited her. I wondered how she'd react.

As soon as she closed the door, I knew she was unhappy. She shot me a cold look and threw her keys roughly on the table by the door and then took off her shoes.

She didn't say anything as she walked into the kitchen. I heard her open a bottle of wine, and then she brought a glass of white with her into the living room, joining me on the couch, tucking her feet under her bum.

She took a drink, and then spoke without looking at me.

"That was embarassing."

I sighed.

"What?"

"Having to learn at work that you lost your shit and called our fucking therapist, questioning her intentions," she said. "Nice, John. Real fucking classy. Jesus Christ."

She took another drink.

"Is that what she said?"

Lisa finally looked at me.

"No. Not in those words, but I can read between the lines, John. Am I wrong?"

I shrugged.

"Fuck's sake," she muttered.

"Lisa, I can't imagine I'm the first husband to call her upset, if she treats all them like she treats me."

Lisa's eyes bore into me.

"Dr. Brunder is trying to save our marriage, John. Or don't you care about that? Is this fucking useless? Are you just going through the motions before you leave me? Is that it? If so, John. Fucking cut it out and leave me now. Don't waste our fucking time."

"That's not it, Lisa. I want to save our marriage."

"Then fucking act like it. If you want to save our marriage, John - we're in fucking counseling - get invested in that. Commit to it. This is not how you do counseling, John. You don't call the fucking therapist and tell her she's playing favorites, John. Fuck. "

"That's not what I said. What did Brunder say, exactly?"

Lisa shook her head.

"Not a lot, she just texted me. I got the idea, though."

"Lisa, I'm sorry. I am invested in this, it's just that it's...." She waited. "I feel like we're being treated like you did nothing wrong, and I should be happy you fucking... did what you did."

"You can't let it go, can you, John? Yeah, I was a bad wife. I did a bad thing. I've apologized. I'm not apologizing one more fucking time. You need to get past it, or this isn't going to work. Are you going to be able to get past it?"

She stared at me.

"I don't know," I admitted.

She turned away and took another sip of her wine.

Her phone buzzed an she checked it.

"It's Dr. Brunder. She said she'd call after her sessions were done for the day."

I got up and went to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass as wine, listening to Lisa's end of the conversation.

"Hi, Dr. Brunder, listen I just want to say, I'm so sorry... I've just talked to John, and I let him know it's not okay what he.... no, it's not okay, I'm really... Okay... Alright...."

I joined her on the couch again. Lisa was rubbing a toe absently while she spoke.

"Yes, it's been going good.... I mean I thought things were great until I heard... Um, yeah, probably about a third of the way through now.... Yeah... Yes... No, he enjoys it in the moment, I can tell, it's just sometimes when we're not being sexual, he's... Yes.... No, that's fair... yeah....No... No, but I've been letting him cum on me, is that okay? I wasn't sure.... No, no, just on me... On my boobs and my pussy mostly, and my butt, and on my belly.... Yeah, okay, good.... Mm hmm.... Yeah, really good from what I can tell.... I'm worried he's going to get dehydrated - I don't know where it all comes from.... Orange juice?.... Okay.... Right...."

She picked up her glass from the coffee table and sipped.

"Mm hm.... Really?.... Okay.... No kidding.... Well, I hope you have some big ones, because.... Really?....

Really?

.... My goodness.... Okay.... Yeah, we can do that after work tomorrow - is shortly after 5 okay?.... Okay.... Well, if not, I can maybe get out early.... Okay.... Okay, let me know.... Great.... Okay.... Listen, Dr. Brunder? I just want to say, um, just, thank you so much.... Yeah, no, I really think this has been really good for us, you know? Despite the... okay, thank you... Yes, I think we're really headed somewhere wonderful.... Mmmm, yeah, I hope so.... I hope so, I really do.... Okay.... Alright, thanks again... Bye."