Warning:
There is incest in this story.
Dr. Jane Blaine, Sex Therapist
Dr Blaine, a traditional therapist, changes to sex therapy,
**
Before you ask, yes, I have both a PhD and an MD, and I'm a trained therapist. I'm the type with a couch, who sits and listens to your problems, and explains how everything is the fault of your parents. I'm a living cliché. Well, no, I'm not. I used to be that, until one of my patients, let's call him Dave, had a sexual problem that was destroying his life. I realized if I changed my methodology, the renowned methodology of the Menninger Clinic, originally of Topeka, Kansas, but now based in Houston, Texas, to a new one of my own creation, I could better help people with sexual issues.
My new technique would have been considered ethical by, well, nobody. My patients would be required to sign NDA's (nondisclosure agreements). I wanted to keep my status as a therapist; I needed it for the insurance forms to fill out, so that my patients could afford me.
It turned out my techniques were not as controversial as I feared they would be. This is probably due to my record of success with my patients. I was even admitted to the psychiatric board at one of the big New York hospitals.
Indeed, gradually as other doctors in New York (where I live and work) learned of my new specialty, as well as my competence, they began to refer patients to me, until finally I had enough patients to treat the specialty of sexual dysfunction exclusively. This made me a specialist, allowing me to charge the insurance companies even higher rates. My first patient, whom I'm calling Dave, unwittingly helped to train me.
I made some mistakes with Dave. Some people might consider them highly unethical mistakes, and I suppose they are, and some might consider a few of them quite BIG mistakes, but hey -- they worked! Dave is now a man who could pass for normal in the sexual arena.
You might think it's unwise, or even dangerous, for a woman in her early thirties, with an excellent body and a pretty face, brown hair, gray eyes resembling those of a cat, and that hide my soul; an hourglass figure, with neither small nor really big boobs, to be a sex therapist, and to be alone in a room with a male patient for three quarters of an hour. Dave showed me how to avoid the traps and pitfalls, mostly by my falling into them, and I learned to hone my techniques with Dave.
In the meantime, I did in fact have a personal life. A nice man named Philip was dating me. He was not exciting, and I didn't think he was really my type, but nobody better was waiting in line to date me. It wasn't that nice to lead Philip on, but a girl has to have fun, you know? Philip would do anything for me, including getting tickets to the hottest Broadway plays. As time went on, I got used to Philip, and we began to get more and more intimate. Philip got more and more happy as we did so, but it was clear he wanted to lay me, and I kept saying no. We began to date less and less frequently.
Here follows some of my notes from a selection of my sessions with Dave. I have numbered my summary notes from each session. While it may appear these sessions are my first through my ninth, in reality there were many more sessions I'm not including here. These sessions represent only the highlights of the progress I made with Dave.
1.Dave presents as an attractive young man of thirty-five years of age. He is heterosexual and is very interested in the opposite sex. He has little trouble meeting appropriate women, and he has been able to seduce more than a few into intimate situations. His issue, however, is that he then cannot perform, due to premature ejaculation.
2.Dave becomes aroused easily enough. Just the sight of a naked woman gives him an erection. I verified this myself, by having Dave remove his pants and briefs. As I removed just my blouse, and still in my bra and otherwise dressed, Dave achieved an erection. I had Dave stand up, and take baby steps, moving closer to me, little by little, until we were almost touching. He maintained his erection, but was not calm, and in fact he was nervously sweating. His heart was racing.
3.I needed to find out when, exactly, the premature ejaculation occurred. Dave either could not, or would not, tell me. At this session, I had him strip naked, and then I asked him to undress me. He obtained an erection when he removed my blouse and saw me in my bra. This was consistent with the previous sessions. He began to sweat nervously when he removed my bra. I had worn a bra with its hook in the front, to make it easy for him. I saw no sign yet of pre-cum.
His next action, following my instructions, was to remove my skirt. I stood, to help him, and also so as not to damage my skirt. He removed my skirt skillfully, and then, perhaps in a fit of enthusiasm and without my instructions, he removed my panties, too. I was now naked and vulnerable before him. I smiled, in the hope of easing his nervousness, which was painfully apparent. His hands, as well as his forehead, were wet with sweat. His penis was leaking just a bit of pre-cum, but that seemed well within the bounds of normalcy. He asked to kiss me.
I took his pulse, since he showed the signs of a rapid heartbeat. To my surprise, his pulse was only 88bpm; it was elevated, but reasonable. I decided we could kiss.
We hadn't kissed at this point, or done any other tangible sexual foreplay. I was ashamed I had not thought about kissing. Of course, a therapist kissing her patient is an ethical violation. Put simply, it's a no-no. I knew I had to say no. On the other hand, kissing while we were both naked might shed some insight into his premature ejaculation problem. I decided to live on the edge and to kiss him. I told him he could hold me while he kissed me, thereby breaking the rule of no touching, too.
Dave took me into his arms somewhat magically. He was gentle, but firm at the same time. He radiated masculinity and self-confidence as we kissed, and his hands explored my naked backside. His hands were a bit inappropriate when they went to my ass cheeks, but then, wouldn't that be normal behavior if I were a random naked woman in a man's arms, and kissing him?
Dave kissed well. He opened his mouth and our tongues met and played with each other. His hands came around my body and caressed my boobs. I could not help myself; I became aroused. Dave's hands went to my pussy. This gave me pause. It gave me lots of pause!
This could not possibly be ethical! On the other hand, I really needed to find out at what stage he ejaculated. So, I let his hands go to my pussy. I, of course, never touched his hard, throbbing, beautifully erect penis. There had still not been a premature ejaculation.
It occurred to me that if I had been a woman he was seducing, or was seducing him, in either case I would fondle his penis. Although, maybe not? I knew there were a significant number of women who ruled out all forms of active foreplay. They themselves could be touched, even eaten out, but they would not touch a man's cock, either with their hands or their mouths. My own brother had told me of such women. He would eat them out, and fuck them to their great delight, but they just spread their legs and lay there, passively. So, maybe I didn't have to fondle Dave's cock. I could be a passive woman.
Dave was now stroking my vagina. I could tell I was wet, and I also knew that Dave knew I was wet. We were still kissing. Dave was leaking precum. Dave pushed me onto the couch so that I was lying, naked, on the couch. Dave spread my legs. I was open and vulnerable for him, and instinctively I knew this would be when he would squirt. I was taking a huge risk, because if he didn't squirt prematurely, he was going to fuck me! I got lucky, and he didn't fuck me. As a therapist, I had to admit to myself that I was secretly hoping that I would have been okay with it, if he would have fucked me!
It occurred to me that I myself needed more therapy! Either that, or I needed to get out more, and meet some men who would satisfy me in bed. Someone other than Philip, whom I was currently dating. I mean, Philip was a great guy, and I liked him a lot, but he would never -- never -- had even thought to do something like CNC.
