AMA: The Boyfriend
Copyright© 2023 by BreaktheBar
Chapter 382
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 382 - Robbie doubts his fiancee Cassidy's story, but he can see the guilt she's been carrying. When they were young she became a User of the Affection Multiplier App. It gamified her relationships and she became addicted to the chase - until she realized how she was betraying Robbie and hit rock bottom. Now Cassidy intends to make things right. They are about to spend a week with her fellow cosplayers, and her only goal is to give Robbie the love and sex he deserves. He isn't so sure about this.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction GameLit Sharing RAAC DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Rough Spanking Harem Polygamy/Polyamory White Male Oriental Female White Couple Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Exhibitionism Facial Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Spitting Squirting Voyeurism
I quickly realised, when I was asked to say what I wanted, that it was disturbingly hard to narrow that down.
“Tough thoughts?” Doctor Samson asked as he waited for me to find the words I was looking for.
“No,” I said. “Well, yeah, sort of.” I covered by taking a sip of my beer, and wondered if the whole beer thing was a ruse to give me something I could hide behind a little like that.
“Goals, especially personal goals that aren’t connected to work, or more concrete accomplishments, can be tough,” Doctor Samson said. “Most of us men, from an early age, we’re taught to focus on what’s in front of us, not what’s going on inside us. Sports kids, which it sounds like you were with swimming, keep that sort of thing rolling - practice for the next game, the next meet, the next competition. And that can be a pretty healthy way to get through the awkwardness of our teenage years; focusing on the physical can help us get out anger and frustration in a healthy way and figure out ways to regulate ourselves. The issue is that we all have internal goals we want to reach. Sometimes, they’re social - meet a girl, make some new friends. Sometimes they’re related to our bodies - fitness, weight loss, style or aesthetic. And sometimes they’re deeper, like challenges to our sexuality, or even our gender or the way we express it. Let me say this - there’s no right answer for what your goals are with therapy, and you aren’t locked into those goals in this session, or the next one, or any after that. You can finesse, reword, or completely pivot whenever you want. Your answer now is just a starting place, like the first rock in a whole pile of rocks that might one day become a building, or a statue, or an entire mountain. Wherever we’re going with the pile, you still gotta have Rock Number One.”
I nodded and sighed, clenching my jaw a few times. “I guess ... I think the easy answer is that I want to get to a place where I’m not having panic attacks anymore, but for that to happen, I probably need to go a level deeper. So even if it sounds stupid, I just want to get back to my ‘normal’ from a week and a half ago.”
“OK,” the Doctor nodded. “I think it’s really interesting you push back on yourself for your gut reaction being too easy. Panic attacks are no joke.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” I grimaced.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he chuckled. “But what I will say is that clearly something changed, if these panic attacks are new, and sometimes it’s important to be able to hit back at the thing that’s right in front of us before we tackle the root of the problem.”
“Isn’t that the opposite of the whole ‘we’re trained from an early age to focus on the thing in front of us’ speech?” I asked.
“Good point,” he laughed and paused to take another sip from his beer. “But you also can’t remove the stump of a tree from your yard until you’ve cut the sucker down first.”
I snorted softly and smirked. “I’m really hoping the panic attacks don’t last long enough to be a tree. I’d rather them not get past the sapling stage.”
“Fair point,” he said. “Alright - two goals. Reduce, or hopefully stop, these panic attacks, and ‘get back to normal.’ To be up front, you’re not going to find a psychologist or therapist anywhere who will promise you can achieve those goals. What I can do is promise that we’ll try to figure out what a new, healthy normal looks like for you because we can rarely go back in time, but we can identify the things that made that previous time seem better than the current one and try to find ways to put building blocks back in the right spots.”
I shook my head and took a long breath. “You’re pretty liberal with the metaphors, huh?”
He snorted and shrugged. “Maybe I am, but did it make sense?”
“Man, if we’re going to be laying down new building blocks, I think I might need to start with expanding the foundation of my life by ... a lot,” I said.
“Alright. So let’s circle back to the beginning,” he said. “What happened a week and a half ago to get you to pick up the phone and book all this therapy?”
I blew out a long breath, then took another long swig from my beer. Doctor Samson smirked a bit and took a sip of his own beer knowingly. The problem was that I wasn’t really sure where to start, and ‘at the beginning’ was complicated. I’d told most of it to my girlfriends - everything except the insane ‘magic app’ stuff - and now Dayana knew most of it too. But telling someone, telling a stranger ... How did I even start to give him all the context? How did I get him to understand how we felt about each other, how I knew where Cass was at and could trust her?