by Ws Greer
“Okay, so what happened next?” I ask.
“I tried to save face,” Sean goes on, sounding more and more disappointed in himself. “I gripped her hips and I told her not to stop until she came.”
I jot—Good communication.
“And how did that turn out?” I ask, as I place my notepad back in my lap.
“Well, she did it. She grinded on top of me with her eyes closed until she came.”
“So she came? That’s great.”
“It didn't feel great, though. Even after she came, her face still had that look of dissatisfaction, like she was still offended by me coming first. It didn't feel right, and she just got up and walked out of the room. The next morning, I woke up to find Becky texting on her phone. When she saw I was awake, she angled the phone away from me so I couldn't see the screen, and even opened up her Facebook app to try to throw me off. I don't think she knows I saw her texting and that I saw her open the other app. The whole thing made me feel like crap, and I got this feeling that she was talking to Dr. Bishop again. Probably telling him how lame I am and begging him to do it better than me.”
I clear my throat and straighten myself in my chair. “All right, Sean, it’s important you don't let yourself get bogged down by assumptions, as difficult as that may be. You don't know Becky was texting another man, so it’s important you don't jump to that conclusion. Also, I found something you said to be very interesting. You stated you’d been planning to give Becky the best sex ever. Why would you think that was something you could do?”
Sean swallows hard, taken aback by the bluntness of the question. “I don't know. I just felt like I’d really gotten something out of our first session.”
“While I can appreciate our session making you more confident,” I say. “Don't use our sessions as an excuse to set unrealistic expectations for yourself. This type of thing takes baby steps, Sean, and we have a lot of work in front of us. We do it by going step by step, and one of the steps is about communication. I thought it was great that you told Becky you wanted her to keep going until she came, even after you’d already had an orgasm.
“Communication is the most important part of any solid relationship, especially when what’s being discussed is difficult. You didn't run from the issue, and you told Becky what you wanted. That’s fantastic, and what’s even better is that she listened to you and obliged. Becky could've stormed out of the room after you came, but she stayed and listened to you. It may not have been the way you wanted, but you got what you wanted. You made Becky come. That’s a victory, and it’s important that you acknowledge your victories, no matter how small.
“You actually have two victories to celebrate,” I go on with a smile. “You came in and said you thought you might be losing Becky, but the fact that she didn't leave you on the couch covered in sweat and disappointment after you came tells me you haven't lost her. Her working herself into an orgasm after you came, and after she may have been upset with you, is a clear sign that she still wants you, Sean. So, don't be so ready to give up on Becky and accuse her of looking to other men for pleasure just because you're disappointed in yourself, because as far as I can tell, Becky doesn't seem ready to give up on you.”
Sean clears his throat, adjusts in his seat, looks up at me, and smiles for the first time today.
13
~ Malcolm ~
“I hear what you're saying, and while that makes plenty of sense, what about the fact that she had her eyes closed while she was riding me?”
“What about it?”
“Well, I know you say I shouldn't jump to conclusions,” Sean says, crossing his legs. “But, when I looked up and saw her, I just couldn't shake the feeling that she was thinking about him. Dr. Bishop, I mean. I think she was closing her eyes so she could get a clearer picture of his stupid face, with those deep blue eyes and ridiculously white teeth.”
I reposition my pen and write in my pad. Inability to perform greatly impacts insecurities, and fuels jealousy and assumptions.
“Again, Sean, it’s not fair for you to assume to know what Becky is thinking,” I try to tell my patient, who seems to have his heels dug in. “You have no clue if Becky was thinking about another man while she was having sex with you, and to be frank, that shouldn't concern you.”
Sean frowns, a deep furrow forming between his eyebrows. “Excuse me? Why wouldn't her thinking about another man concern me?”
“Because you have no control over Becky’s thoughts,” I answer in a hurry, as if the words were begging to make themselves heard. “You have no access to her thoughts, and no right to know what she’s thinking either, as difficult as that may be to accept in a serious relationship. Becky is free to think what she wants, and thoughts don't constitute cheating. Only actions can do that, so it’s in your best interest to only concern yourself with Becky’s actions. You’ll only drive yourself crazy obsessing over what she may or may not be thinking.
“For example,” I go on, making sure to drive this point home. “If you asked Becky what she was thinking, and she took the time to tell you, what she says is actually irrelevant.”
“How do you figure?” Sean asks, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees.
“Because regardless of what Becky says, it’s up to you on whether or not you believe her. No matter what comes out of her mouth, truth or lie, if you don't believe what she said is actually what she’s thinking, you'd still be upset about it. You have no way to know if she's telling the truth about her thoughts. When it comes to thoughts, you have no choice but to believe or not believe, but you'll never know with one hundred percent certainty, because an explanation of thoughts can’t be verified. With thoughts, you have to operate purely on trust. So, with that in mind, what good is it to obsess over something you can never know the truth about?”
Sean’s eyes roam around the room for a minute before falling back onto me. “Hmm. I guess you’ve got a point there. You're good, Dr. Colson.”
I smile and press my lips together. “Thank you. Now, I want you to try to understand something that’s going to be difficult. You have to accept that Becky has the right to her thoughts, and she therefore has the right to fantasize about anything she wants, including Dr. Bishop. The only thing you can concern yourself with is if Becky takes action. If she pushes to make her fantasies—if she is, in fact, thinking about Dr. Bishop—a reality, then you can address the problem of her actions. If Becky never acts on those fantasies, you can't punish her for having thoughts in her own head.”
Sean nods his head, grudgingly agreeing with me. I know this is something people don't want to hear. So often, significant others want to have access to everything about their partners, including the parts that are the most private. It’s nearly impossible to get someone who’s in love to understand that they have no right to know certain things about their loved ones. Thoughts are not crimes. Only actions can be crimes. In society, however, people are often ostracized or ridiculed for their fantasies as if they're not allowed to have certain thoughts. Unless a person is having fantasies that are criminally perverted or violent, they should be allowed to have them.
We can't tell people what to do with their thoughts, much like we can't tell them what to do with their own bodies. Whether it’s tattoos or piercings, people have the right to do what they wish with their own bodies. Which leads me to my next question for Sean.
“This topic actually segues into something else I think might be important for you,” I say, to which Sean tilts his head, awaiting the question. “Do you masturbate?”
Sean’s eyes bulge to twice their size as he frowns at me.
“Excuse me?” he says with an abashed smile.
“Do you masturbate?” I repeat with no change of emotion.
“Umm, why?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sean. It’s just a question.”
“Well… why do you want to know that? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I think it cou
ld have a lot to do with your situation. So, do you?”
Sean moves around in his seat like there’s needles in it before answering. “Not really, no.”
“Why not?” I inquire, just before writing his answer in my notepad.
“It’s just not for me,” Sean says. “And Becky doesn't really like it when I do.”
There's the answer I was waiting for.
“I see. So, which of those two reasons means more to you?” Sean’s eyes start roaming, so I continue. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Becky’s opinion is the real reason you don't masturbate. Is that right?”
Sean sighs. “Sure. That’s right.”
“I understand,” I say, hoping to keep Sean from becoming defensive about my critique of his girlfriend. “But Becky also doesn't like it when you come too fast, correct?”
“Well, of course not,” Sean answers.
“Okay, well I have a prescription for you, and it’s masturbation.”
“What?”
“You need to masturbate, Sean,” I surge forward. “Not only is masturbation a healthy and important part of adult life, it’s also a great way to practice orgasm control. This is only our second session, but both times we’ve met, you've told me about how you've orgasmed before Becky was ready for you to. Before you were ready to. But, if you were to masturbate two or three hours before you have sex, it’d make it more difficult for you to come because the sensitivity would be lessened.”
Sean tilts his head again, letting my words dance around in his mind before settling on a question for me. “But sometimes we have sex without knowing it’s coming. What if I do masturbate, and we end up not even having sex?”
“Then it’s still helpful for you,” I explain. “You’ll have to learn what works for you, but most people masturbate to pornographic material, and seeing women’s breasts and the motions and sounds of sex while masturbating can help you mentally as well as physically. If you have pictures or videos of Becky, I recommend you use those, this way you won’t be strongly affected by the sight of Becky grinding on top of you. Plus, you're less likely to offend Becky if the images you masturbate to are images of her. You can literally practice speeding up and slowing down, controlling when you orgasm. Over time, you can make it to where you don't come until you want to. Imagine being able to make Becky orgasm twice, three times, before you decide to come. This is a skill most men don't have.”
Sean’s face lights up at the thought of watching the love of his life having orgasm after orgasm without ever having to worry about coming by accident. It’s a skill everyone wishes they had, but so few do. But, as quickly as Sean’s smile came, it’s replaced by a look of concern.
“But, what about Becky?” Sean asks. “She doesn't like it. She’d be pissed if she found out I was beating off all the time.”
“Well, like I said, if you have videos of Becky, you should use those, but ultimately this goes back to things we have no right to. Just like you don't have the right to judge Becky for her private thoughts because they are hers, Becky has no right to judge you for what you do with your own body. It’s yours, Sean. You can do what you want with it. Now, that doesn't mean there aren't any consequences to your choices, but your body is yours to do with what you want.”
“I understand that, but that doesn't mean she won't be pissed,” Sean argues.
I nod my head. “That may be true, and maybe that means you need to keep this part of your life a secret, but Becky will thank you in the long run. If you're not comfortable with keeping it a secret, you can take the approach I always prefer, and just communicate with her. Tell Becky that you’re doing it so you can learn to please her better, and she should accept that. Tell her you respect the fact that she doesn't like the idea of you masturbating to other women, so you’re asking her to send you videos or pictures of herself. Ultimately, this could spice things up for you two. But, Becky isn't here, and you know her better than I do, so you’ll have to make a choice on which way to pursue this. I, for one, think communication is always the best way to go.
“At the end of the day, Sean, it’s vitally important that you remember the golden rule,” I say. Now it’s my turn to lean forward onto my elbows to drive my point home.
“What’s the golden rule?” Sean asks. After beating back the shock I feel at Sean not knowing this, I answer.
“It’s simple—nice guys finish last,” I say. “To put it in more relatable terms—you should never allow yourself to come before your woman does.”
14
~ Malcolm ~
Today’s session was a good one. I find myself more and more impressed with how open-minded Sean Tillman is, and by the end of today’s session, I felt like Sean would certainly succeed in his quest to please his girlfriend.
It’d be easier to gauge their situation if Sean would've brought Becky to therapy with him instead of choosing to keep his treatment a secret, but we’re making good progress considering the dynamics.
I know there's a social stigma regarding people who go to therapy, and I wish there wasn't. Human beings are social creatures, so we all need to talk to other people. If there wasn't such judgement attached to therapy, more people would be willing to come and receive the treatment they need, instead of bottling things up and letting it fester inside of them. It only hurts feelings and relationships, and sometimes comes out in the form of violence. In my opinion, more people should be seeking therapy, not less.
Secrecy aside, Sean is making strides after only two sessions. If he can bring himself to masturbate, he’ll find that his stamina will increase, which will go a long way to fulfilling his goals with Becky. After today’s session, I think Sean is going to do whatever needs to be done to keep Becky from giving up on him, even if that’s not what she’s actually about to do.
After a long day in the office, including a particularly difficult session after Sean’s, I come home and take a shower. I don't like sitting on my couch knowing I’m not completely clean and free of the day’s sweat and stress. Once I’m feeling and smelling good, I fill up a crystal tumbler with ice and vodka, and sit in front of my fireplace. It’s just one of those days where you want to relax more than you want to do anything else, so when my phone chimes, I don't even think to look at it at first. Five minutes goes by with me sitting here with Black Panther playing on my seventy-five-inch TV, before the phone goes off again. After a sigh, I reluctantly glance down at the screen.
Ava: I miss you.
Usually, I’d snatch up the phone and punch in a response, telling Ava to get over here as fast as she can. Today, however, I’m not in the mood. Sometimes a strong drink and the satisfying heat and crackle of a fireplace is all you need and all you're in the mood for. I take another swig of my drink and give my attention back to King T’Challa and the rest of the people in Wakanda. After just a couple of minutes, though, my phone chimes again.
Ava: Are you home? I wish to please you, my king.
I let out a sigh of annoyance before picking up the phone and formulating a response that I hope will end the conversation in a hurry.
Me: Today’s not a good day. I’ll contact you soon. Tomorrow, maybe.
After I press send, I place the phone on the arm of the seat, but before I can pull my fingers away, Ava responds.
Ava: Bad day? I can make you feel better. Can I come over?
My response is immediate, and so are Ava’s.
Me: Let’s just call it a stressful day, Ava. And no, you can’t come over. I’ll contact you soon.
Ava: I don't want to wait. I need to feel you inside me. Please.
Me: Not tonight, Ava. Don't push it.
Ava takes a few minutes to respond, to my surprise and satisfaction, and I let out a sigh of relief as I go back to my movie. While watching, I try not to let the things I know about Ava distract me. If I’m not careful, I could make myself worry.
After fifteen minutes, Ava finally replies.
Ava: I’m thinking about you. I want to touch myself.
Am I allowed?
Me: Yes. You have my permission to think of me while you rub your pussy. But, you’re not allowed to come until you're with me. Do you understand?
Ava: Yes, sir. Thank you. I miss you. Can't wait to see you. Can't wait to taste you. Can't wait to feel you.
In my frustration, I don't bother typing a response, and to my pleasant surprise, Ava doesn't text back. As the movie finishes, I imagine Ava lying on the bed in her house with her fingers firmly pressed against her clit, rubbing hard circles until she is on the verge of orgasm, before stopping herself. This is a tactic called edging. If you manage to do it right without accidentally going over the edge, it turns your sensitivity way up, and when you finally come, it knocks your hair back. Even through my annoyance, I smile at the image in my head of Ava edging for me.
Black Panther finishes up, and I lift myself off my couch. It’s only nine in the evening, but I’m ready to wrap things up downstairs and relax in my bedroom, so I walk to the kitchen and place my empty tumbler into the sink. On my way towards the stairs, I turn off the lights in the room as I pass them. With the downstairs section of the house completely dark, I turn the corner in the dining room just before the stairs, and I see a light shining through my blinds that shouldn't be there.
Before I start up the steps, I glance out the window and see headlights in front of my mailbox. A car is sitting in front of my house with its engine running, and the driver is still in the vehicle. I can’t make out who it is because of the darkness, so I walk over to the window and raise one of the blinds. The second my blinds move, the car drives away.
The first explanation I settle on is the one that scares me the most. Ava. I’m not sure if the car was hers, but it certainly may have been. So, I pull my phone from my pocket and text her.
