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The Couch - Part Three |
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By Dirk Vincento
8 “I’d like to talk some more about your relationship with Gretchen, if that’s alright with you?” Dr. Hasslett asked, having dispensed with the pleasantries and getting right down to work. “Sure,” Brian said, a flutter rising up through his stomach as he realized that he was about to begin psychoanalysis for the first time. “The last time we were together, you talked about the things that have been making you unhappy. In fact, I believe there were quite a few . . . shall we say negative, for lack of a better term, things about Gretchen that have made your relationship less than ideal. You described her as having a bad temper, being volatile and sometimes vicious, always needing to be in control.” And always needing to be right, Brian thought to himself. “I was wonder if you could tell me some of her positive characteristics? Some of the things you like about her.” Brian thought. He looked out the window. The sky was overcast and he noticed how the window hangers looked sad and lonely without the rays of the sun dancing through them, bringing them to life. “There’s . . . ” he started, the single word hanging in the air and then drifting off. “Let’s try it this way,” Dr. Hasslett suggested. “What was it that attracted you to her in the first place?” As Dr. Hasslett asked his question, Brian’s mind was immediately filled with the image of Gretchen and her huge . . . “She can be a lot of fun to be around,” Brian started abruptly. “When she’s in a good mood, she’s a lot of fun.” Dr. Hasslett watched Brian closely. He let the silence linger between them for a moment, using it like a skilled director might use lighting to create just the right atmosphere in a scene of a movie. “You also mentioned last time that you’ve had some other relationships. Does Gretchen have anything in common with the other women you’ve been involved with?” Brian could see Gretchen again, her lips red and glistening, her eyes sparkling and her sweater pulled tight. The picture in his mind started a warm tingling sensation bubbling up through his groin. Maybe this was a mistake. “They were all friendly and outgoing and enjoyed being around people.” That’s not true! “They could all be a lot of fun to be around . . . especially if they were in the right mood.” “Is there anything else?” Dr. Hasslett asked, sensing that Brian was dancing around something. “Anything else?” “Anything else that attracted you to Gretchen, or any of the other women you’ve had relationships with?” Brian was starting to feel nervous and jittery. He could hear his pulse throbbing in his ears. Part of him thought that he should just tell Dr. Hasslett the truth but . . . “Are there any physical traits they have in common?” Dr. Hasslett continued probing. “Are they all blondes or are they all attractive . . . ?” “Big tits,” Brian muttered. “I beg your pardon?” Dr. Hasslett asked. “They’ve all had big . . . breasts.” Brian could feel his face turn red. “Is that part of what attracted you to them?” Dr. Hasslett asked. “That is what attracted me to them,” Brian confessed. “I hope you know that that’s perfectly normal,” Dr. Hasslett said, his voice once again becoming very calm and reassuring. “Many relationships start with physical attractions. What’s important is that the physical attraction develops into a more meaningful emotional bond.” Brian was staring at the floor, unable to meet Dr. Hasslett’s gaze. “There’s no need to be embarrassed about being attracted to women’s breasts,” Dr. Hasslett continued, sensing Brian’s discomfort. “Our society focuses a lot of attention on women’s breasts and most men find that they experience some level of stimulation when confronted with a well-endowed woman.” Brian finally looked up. He was still very embarrassed, but the comforting sound of Dr. Hasslett’s voice was beginning to make him feel more at ease. “What I think we need to do is try to ascertain if your attraction to breasts is drawing you into unhealthy relationships. As I said, being attracted to women’s breasts is quite normal. But if it leads to obsessive behavior, it can become a problem that needs to be dealt with, no different than any other obsession that interferes with a person leading a happy and fulfilling life.” Dr. Hasslett was still watching Brian closely. “Are you comfortable talking about this?” he asked. “If you find it disturbing, we don’t have to go on.” “I’m okay,” Brian said, the quiver in his voice betraying his uncertainty. “We can go on.” “Alright, let’s see how we can do this,” Dr. Hasslett said, trying to think of a way to ease into the subject gently. He knew that if he tried to get Brian to open up too quickly, he would snap shut like a bear trap and the moment would be lost. “When you first met Gretchen, would you say that your attraction to her breasts played a small, a large or a very large part in your being interested in her?” “Very large,” Brian answered. “And after you got to know her a little and began to notice some of the things that bothered you, like her temper and her need to be controlling, were there times that you found yourself thinking that this might not be the kind of person that you would want to be in a relationship with?” “Yes.” “And did you ever find yourself thinking that you did want to be in a relationship with her, in spite of the things you didn’t like, because of her breasts?” Brian hesitated before answering. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. “Yes.” Dr. Hasslett paused, stopping to think about what had been said so far. “Would you say that the same thing has been true in your other relationships?” “Yes, it’s true about all of them,” Brian said, the words starting to flow out of him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. When I meet a woman with big tits, I always start making bad decisions. I guess that joke about thinking with the wrong head is true after all. I just can’t seem to help myself. It’s always been that way.” “So these feelings about breasts go back to your adolescence?” “Further back than that,” Brian said. “I can’t remember a time when they didn’t have this effect on me.” “Going back to your adolescent years, are there any experiences you can think of that would lead you to believe you were fixated on breasts, even at that age?” Brian thought for a minute, his mind wandering through the memories of his youth. “There was one incident I’ve never forgotten. Actually, it’s something that happened more than once. I would have been about nine years old, maybe ten. I have an older sister and . . .
9 . . . she was always hanging out with her girlfriends. There were four of them altogether. My sister, Kate, Donna McIntyre who lived just up the street and Marion Lamb and Mary Jane . . . I can’t remember her last name, but they both lived a couple of blocks over. They were inseparable. I think they thought of themselves as a little gang. Actually, a cult is more like it. They were really into Wicca and the occult and they were always reading really weird books about that kind of stuff. Kate’s five years older than I am and her friends were all about the same age, except for Donna, who was maybe a year or two older. Anyway, they were pretty much inseparable. They’d even worked out this kind of code language, sort of like pig Latin, where they put the syllable ‘ab’ after every consonant. So, ‘good morning’ would come out something like, ‘gabood mabornabing’. They got really fluent with it and it was actually pretty neat to hear them once they got going. They’d ramble on about a hundred miles an hour and no one else had a clue what they were talking about. I think they got off on saying thing in public that they never would have gotten away with if they’d been talking in plain English. Stuff about sex and boys and that sort of thing. So they were really close and always spent a lot of time hanging around our house. I was just Kate’s kid brother, so they hardly paid any attention to me. But whenever they were around, I paid attention to them. Well, not all of them exactly. I mean, Kate was my sister and Marion and Mary Jane didn’t interest me at all. But Donna was a different story. When she came over, I’d find any excuse I could to hang around. You see, she had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen on a girl in my life. Of course, I’d probably seen tits as big on grown women, but something about the fact that Donna was closer to my age made it seem . . . different. So if Donna was around, I’d always find a reason to be in the same room, just so I could sneak a peek at her whenever I thought I wouldn’t get caught. If they were outside, I’d even mow the lawn just so I could stare at her tits. There was something about the size and shape of them that was irresistible to me. They looked so big and so soft. I was too young to entirely understand the way they made me feel, but the sensations were undeniably sexual. The way they rolled and shifted every time she moved mesmerized me and I found myself looking at them even when I was sure that I was going to get caught. And eventually I did get caught. One afternoon, they were watching a movie on TV in our family room. It was suspicious in the first place. They knew I wouldn’t be interested in what they were watching, so they must have started figuring out that there was some other reason for me wanting to be in the room. I think Donna noticed what I was doing before I realized it. She was on the couch and I was in the Lazyboy chair, which was sitting on an angle, still facing the TV but turned a little bit towards the sofa. At some point, she shifted her position, giving me a perfect view of her bosom. My head was turned toward the television and my eyes had been shifting back and forth between the screen and Donna. But this was the most perfect, unobstructed view I’d ever had of her chest. After a while, my eyes starting spending more and more time peeking at her and less and less time looking at the screen. And then she started stretching her arms over her head and twisting her body like she was trying to get a kink out of her back. She was thrusting her chest forward, making her tits look even bigger than usual. At that point, I gave up even trying to pretend to look at the television and just stared at her out of the corner of my eye. I was so mesmerized by what I was seeing that it never occurred to me that she might be doing it on purpose. After a couple of minutes, I felt my head turning toward her. I knew if I looked directly at her, I’d get caught for sure, but I couldn’t help myself. Within a couple of minutes, my head had turned completely and I was staring straight at her. I knew it was only a matter of time before they noticed, but I was helpless. Even thinking back on it now, I can still remember the intensity of the sensations I felt. My cheeks were burning hot and the skin all over my body was tingling, especially around my balls. It felt as if someone had poured warm water on my crotch. I don’t know how long I sat like, but I do know that they noticed me before I noticed them. “Brian, what are you doing?” Kate was suddenly screaming at me. I don’t think I realized how completely absorbed I had become in Donna’s breasts until that moment. I had fallen so far into my own world that it was as if I thought I was invisible, like I could see them, but they couldn’t see me. It wasn’t until I heard the sound of Kate’s voice that reality came crashing down around me and I suddenly realized that not only could they see me, but they knew what I had been doing. “He’s looking at my tits,” Donna said, indignantly. “He’s been staring at them for about the last half hour.” “Oh my God!” Marion cried out. Donna turned to look at me and now. All four of them were staring at me. If my cheeks had felt hot before, they were smoldering now. “I . . . I . . . ” I stammered, trying to think of something to say, but coming up completely blank. “If he likes your tits so much, maybe we should give him a closer look,” Mary Jane suggested devilishly. “Fine by me,” Donna said, with an evil smile. “Yeah, let’s teach the little fucker a lesson,” Marion sneered. At that point, I had no idea what they had in mind, but I wasn’t about to hang around and find out. For the next few seconds we sat staring at each other, them looking at me like a pack of female lions and me looking back, wide-eyed and terrified, like some helpless prey they had cornered. And then, in the next instant, I leapt out of my chair and bolted through the door. I never even would have made it out of the room if I hadn’t been sitting closest to the door. My head start gave me a chance to make it up the stairs before they’d moved. I guess they weren’t in any big rush because they knew my parents weren’t home, so there wasn’t going to be any help there. And it was winter, so with a foot of snow on the ground, I would have had to put on my coat and boots before going outside and that would have given them time to catch me long before I got out the door. Our family room was in the basement, so once I’d made it to the main floor, I just kept going upstairs because I figured there’d be more places to hide there. By the time I’d made it to the top of the stairs, I could hear them coming up from the basement. They were laughing devilishly and the sound of it made me really nervous. I started thinking about all that witchcraft stuff they were into, which was a mistake because then my imagination really started to run wild with thoughts about what they might do to me if they caught me. Remember I was only nine or ten, so that stuff seemed really scary to me back then. I was standing frozen at the top of the stairs, trying to figure out where I should hide, when I heard them coming down the hallway downstairs. I knew I was running out of time, so I dove into the linen closet and pulled the door closed behind me. There was just enough room between the shelves and the door for me to stand, but it was a pretty tight squeeze. I tried to be as quiet as I could, staying perfectly still and holding the doorknob with both hands in case they tried to open the door. (I had always wondered why anyone would put a doorknob on the inside of a cupboard door, but as foolish as it seemed, I was very glad that it was there now.) I waited and listened. I could hear them coming up the stairs. It sounded like they were moving slowly, stalking me like hunters sneaking through the forest.
“Brian, where are you?” I heard Kate calling out softly. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” one of the others chimed in. “Don’t be afraid, Brian. We promise not to hurt you,” one of them said, followed by an outburst of giggles. “You check the bathroom and my bedroom,” Kate instructed them. “I’ll look in my parents room.” The linen closet was right beside the bathroom and I could hear one of them walking in front of the door. I held my breath and tried to stay especially still. My heart was pounding in my chest like a trip hammer. It sounded so loud in my ears that I was sure they would be able to hear it, too. “He’s not here,” Marion called out from Kate’s bedroom. “Are you sure he came up here?” I heard Mary Jane ask. “Oh yes, he’s up here,” Kate answered back, her voice sounding like she was in my parents bedroom. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” “He’s not in the bathroom.” It was Donna’s voice, loud, right outside the linen closet door. You’re wondering how bad my obsession with big tits is? Well, let me tell you something. When I heard Donna’s voice right outside the door, my whole body started to shake. Not because I was afraid of getting caught, but because I knew she was so close and I couldn’t get the image of her breasts out of my mind. A long silence followed and then I heard Kate’s voice, unnaturally loud. “Maybe he’s not up here after all.” “Yeah, maybe he’s hiding downstairs or maybe he was so scared he just ran out in the snow.” There was another silence followed by the sound of feet shuffling, which made me think they were going to go back downstairs. And then the doorknob suddenly turned in my hand and the door started to pull open. I held it back as best I could but at that age, my strength was no match for them. Within seconds, the door was open and the four of them were standing in front of me, all of them with evil, devilish smiles on their faces. I was cornered. “Gotcha’, you little pervert,” Mary Jane snarled. “Bring him into my bedroom,” Kate instructed the others. I tried to sink deeper into the closet but the shelves were right up against my back and there was nowhere to go. The next thing I knew, Marion, Mary Jane and Donna had a hold of me by the arms and were pulling me out into the hallway. I was screaming, “Let me go!” and trying to squirm away from them, but they were stronger than I was and there were too many of them. They dragged me kicking and screaming down the hall and into Kate’s bedroom. I never stopped struggling, but there was no way to escape and it seemed like the more I tried to get away, the more they enjoyed it. “Lay him on the floor,” Kate ordered, once they had me safely in her room. When I heard her close the bedroom door I don’t mind telling you, I was scared. I mean, I was only nine years old and these girls were five and six years older than me and they were into all of this weird witchcraft stuff. I had no idea what they were going to do to me, but my imagination was filling my head with plenty of ideas. They pulled me down onto the floor and lay me spread-eagle on my back. Kate and Marion each held down one arm and Mary Jane pinned down my legs. I was still struggling some, but at that point, I was starting to get tired and my efforts to get away were losing their enthusiasm. And now that they had me stretched out helplessly on the floor, I was so terrified that my fear seemed to paralyze me, almost as if I was too frightened to fight back. And then Donna sat on me, straddling my chest with her legs. I looked up and her breasts hovered over me like two gigantic mountains of flesh under her sweater. Looking at them added to my fear another sensation that I didn’t understand at all. My face got hot and my skin started to tingle all over my body. I didn’t know what was happening to me and at the time, all I could think was that they had put a spell on me and that idea made me even more frightened than I already was. “So you like looking at my tits?” Donna said, leering down at me. There was some quality in her voice that I’d never heard before. It was soft and teasing and it made my heart pound in my chest. “If you like them so much,” she carried on, “why don’t you have a good look at them?” What happened next was one of those moments I’ll never forget for as long as I live. From the time Donna had sat on me, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her chest. And now she was starting to lean forward and those huge mounds were slowly lowering onto my head. As I watched them come closer, the tingling that covered my body grew in intensity until it felt like my skin had a thousand volts of electricity running through it. My balls were tickling too and there were strange stirrings going on in my crotch. And then came a moment that’s carved into my soul. When I felt her huge bosom press into my face and the weight of her incredible breasts bear down on me, I was so overcome by the incredible intensity of the sensation that it was actually a long time before I realized that I couldn’t breathe. I opened my mouth and tried to suck in air, but all I felt was the soft couldn’t breathe. I opened my mouth and tried to suck in air, but all I felt was the soft mass of her bosom through her sweater filling me. Panic set in and I started to struggle wildly to get free. But with three of them holding down my limbs, it was impossible to move. I tried to scream for help, but all I could hear was the sound of my voice being muffled by Donna’s chest. I can’t begin to describe the fear I felt at that moment. There was a point at which I really thought I was going to die . . . that they were going to use me as some kind of human sacrifice in one of their weird satanic rituals. And then, all of a sudden my lungs were filling with air. “Did you like that?” Donna asked, with a wicked look of satisfaction on her face. “Yeah, how did you like that?” Marion chimed in. I think I was too scared to cry, but I remember whining and begging for them to let me go. “But I thought you liked looking at my tits?” Donna taunted me. “I think you need to take a good look at them again.” This time they came racing down toward my face, landing on my head with considerable force. I couldn’t breathe again and panic returned instantly. I turned my head from side to side, trying frantically to find some air. Donna started dragging her tits back and forth, rubbing them into my face, burying my head deep into her sweater, deep into the bottomless valley between her mountainous breasts. At that age, I didn’t understand about being aroused and well . . . you know. . . horniness. But I had already discovered that looking at Donna’s tits made me feel very good. So I was starting to develop a sense of my sexuality and some idea of the things that triggered those feelings. Breasts, especially big breasts, were one of the things that I had been drawn to and I was already amazed at how irresistible the feelings the sight of them evoked were. But as powerful as those feelings had already become, this experience seemed to increase the power that big breasts had over me tenfold. At some point, while my head was buried under the mountain of Donna’s chest, the sexual power of her tits surpassed my fear and I think it would fair to say that I’ve never been the same since. By the time Donna lifted herself off of me, I was in a complete daze, so much so that I don’t really remember what happened next very clearly. I do remember hearing Mary Jane’s voice, screeching, “Oh my God, look at his pants. He’s got a boner!” I remember them laughing and I remember being embarrassed. “Do my tits give you a boner?” Donna taunted me again, this time lowering herself over me and making her breasts sway back and forth so that they rubbed gently against my face. I can still remember how hot my cheeks felt and how wonderful and soft the mass of flesh beneath her sweater felt against my skin. “Pull up your top and see if it gets bigger?” Mary Jane said, laughing. “Yeah, show him your bra,” Marion added. “That’ll really freak him out!” Donna looked down at me with an expression that sent a shiver running down my spine. “Do you want to see under my top, little boy?” she asked. She was talking to me like I was a baby and I remember the sound of her voice made me feel the same way I felt when I looked at her tits. “Would you like that, huh?” I was too overcome by the sensations in my body to say anything, so I just watched and waited. “Do it,” Kate urged Donna on. I watched the smooth skin of her belly appear as she slowly lifted the front of her sweater. When I caught my first glimpse of the white, lacy material of the underside of her bra, I felt a hard tingling in my dick, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. And as her sweater slowly rose and her breasts, encased in a huge white bra, gradually came into view, the tingling in my dick went off like a firecracker . . . and I experienced my first orgasm. “Look, it’s twitching!” Mary Jane shrieked, pointing at my crotch. “His boner is twitching!” One minute they were all laughing and pointing. The next, Kate was yelling for quiet. “Shhhh. . . I think I hear a car in the driveway,” she said, frantically. “My mother’s home. Quick, let him up!” In a flash, they were up and gone, barreling down the stairs toward the basement. I lay there on the floor in my sister’s room for a long time, stunned and breathless. I heard my mother come in, take off her coat and go downstairs to check on my sister and her friends. I got up slowly, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before she’d be coming to check on me, too. I went across the hall to my own room and flopped onto bed, a whirlwind of feelings and sensations coursing through my body. I believe that the seeds of my obsession for big breasts started when I was even younger, but that day pushed me over the edge. From then on, I was a lot more cautious about sneaking a peek at Donna’s tits or at least a lot more careful about getting caught. But after that first time, a funny thing happened. In spite of how scared I was when they held me down on the floor – and this is when I really began to realize how powerful my obsession with big breasts was – whenever I found myself alone in the house with my sister and her friends, I’d linger around, trying to pretend that I didn’t notice them. But all the time I was just waiting for them to chase me down again. A couple of times I even took a peek at Donna’s tits when I thought I might get caught, hoping that if they saw me looking, they would come after me again. And they did. I’d take off like a bullet, making it look as if I were really trying to get away. Somehow it seemed really important that I put up a fight, that I acted as if I really didn’t want to get caught. I’d always find a different place to hide and then wait, tingling with anticipation while I listened to them move around the house looking for me. When I think back, those were some of the best moments; the waiting, knowing what was coming. Sometimes I’d be trembling with excitement so badly that I was sure they’d hear me. And eventually they always would find me. Even though I wanted to be caught, the terror of being discovered always seemed so real. I can still remember the feel of their hands on me, grabbing at me and pulling me out of my hiding place. At that point, I really would try to escape . . . because I knew I couldn’t. But the harder I tried, the more exciting it was and the more real it became. I don’t know whether or not they ever figured out that deep down I wanted them to catch me, but either way, they always played their part to perfection, never letting on that they knew it was just a game, if in fact they did. They would drag me onto the floor and hold me down, always infuriated and indignant. They would taunt me and tease me, saying that only bad little boys looked at girls’ tits and that they would have to punish me. And then Donna would always sit on my chest and bury my head beneath her incredible bosom. Sometimes I would feel her breasts through her sweater and sometimes she would lift up her top and press her bra into my face. And once or twice she actually took her breasts out of her bra and forced my head into her naked flesh. And every time it happened, I’d have an orgasm. The first few times I was young enough that I felt the tingling, but nothing came out of me. But this ritual went on over the course of a year or more and by the end, the orgasms I was having were making a little mess in my pants. Those girls made me feel some of the most incredibly wonderful sensations I have ever experienced in my life. In some ways I think that all I’ve been doing as an adult is trying to find what they gave me all over again. But . . . |