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The Couch - Part Four |
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By Dirk Vincento 10 . . . I don’t know if you can ever recapture the intensity of the feelings you’re capable of at that age. It was incredible.” Brian finally paused and took a deep breath. He felt tired and emotionally spent, as if he had been reliving the experiences that he had just described. He could feel the tingling on his skin, the excitement, the craving. When Dr. Hasslett spoke, the sound of his voice brought him back into the room with shocking abruptness. “You said that these episodes continued for a little more than a year?” he asked. “Why did they stop?” Brian tried to think back, but his memories of how it came to an end were vague at best. “I think at some point my sisters and her friends simply grew apart. They got older and started getting boyfriends . . . I think one of them moved away. It just seemed like after a while they weren’t hanging around the house as much. And maybe as I got older, we all knew that they wouldn’t be able to do the things they were doing to me if I didn’t let them. And so the game didn’t really work anymore.” “And how did that make you feel . . . when it ended?” Brian stared off into space, his expression far away, as if he had been inhabited by a distant and yet familiar emotion. “I was sad,” he said softly. “No, that’s not enough. I think I was devastated. I felt like time had cheated me, robbed me of something. And I wanted it back.” “Do you still want it back?” Dr. Hasslett asked. “Yes,” Brian answered. “I think I do.” Dr. Hasslett glanced at his watch. “I think this has been a very productive session,” he said, indicating by his tone that their time was up. “There are clearly some unresolved issues around the experiences you’ve described today and I think if we can deal with them, it will go a long way towards solving a lot of your problems. I think we should continue along these same lines next week.” “You’re the doc, Doc,” Brian quipped. Dr. Hasslett smiled. “How have you been sleeping? Has there been any improvement?” “Not really, no,” Brian said. “Have you been getting out of bed when you find you haven’t fallen asleep after half an hour or so?” Dr. Hasslett inquired. “No,” Brian said, looking down at the floor sheepishly. He was expecting to be reprimanded and was surprised by the softness of Dr. Hasslett’s response. “When you’re ready to get up, you will,” he said calmly. Dr. Hasslett let the silent pause hang in the air between them for a second, using it once again to drive his point home. “Have a good week. I’ll see you next time,” he said finally. “See you next week,” Brian said, as he walked out the door.
11 Brian looked at the clock. 2:17. The numbers glowed eerily in the dark. They appeared to be floating freely in space, disembodied and haunting like numbers written in blood across the night sky. Another sleepless night. Brian knew what he should do and each night it was getting harder to rationalize and make excuses. He had spent the last two hours trying to put off the inevitable, but in his heart he knew that he couldn’t bear to face Dr. Hasslett again without at least trying to get out of bed. He had made a half-hearted attempt to tell himself that if he did wake Gretchen up, she would be understanding after all. But who was he kidding? He knew that there would be no way of doing this without having to stand up to Gretchen and somehow endure a blast of her anger. He turned his head and looked at the lump under the covers that was Gretchen. How bad could it be? It wasn’t as if she had never been angry at him before. And he had always survived in the past, hadn’t he? It occurred to Brian that survival was a relative term and his mind began to ponder the thought, grasping the opportunity to distract him and avoid what had to be done. But just as quickly, some other part of him jumped in and cut that escape route off. There would be no running away tonight. He had to deal with this situation once and for all. The clock had run out and the time was now. Brian pulled back the covers and slowly swung his feet onto the floor. He was moving as gracefully and gently as possible, trying not to move the bed any more than absolutely necessary. He delicately lifted his body off the mattress into a sitting position and then looked over his shoulder. The lump under the blankets that was Gretchen remained motionless. So far, so good. He shifted his weight from his behind to his feet and using the muscles in his legs as much as possible to avoid having to press down on the mattress with his hands, he very slowly lifted himself off the bed. The mattress moaned as it rose to fill the space his rump had occupied and the bedsprings creaked with relief. Gretchen continued to sleep, her body lying still. Brian could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The sound was so loud in his ears that it was hard to imagine Gretchen couldn’t hear it as well. The sensation reminded him of the times he hid in the linen closet and listened to the sound of his heart beating while his sister and her friends hunted him down. One memory flowed smoothly into the next, bringing to his mind vivid images of Donna’s breasts. He might not have remembered them so clearly, but having recounted the story of his encounter with them to Dr. Hasslett just that afternoon, they appeared instantly before his mind’s eye in all their splendor, bringing with them all of the sensations they had evoked years ago. He could remember the tingling in his groin that the sight of them had made him feel as a boy. He could remember how they felt as they were lowered onto his face; their softness, their weight. He could remember the feeling of helplessness as they covered his head and cut off his air. Memories of the past merged with the present, causing the beginnings of an erection to stir in his pajamas. As a wave of gentle pleasure flowed through him, a low moan escaped his lips before he could hold it back. “Brian?” The sound of Gretchen’s sleepy voice cut through the silence in the room like a knife. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep,” Brian whispered. “What are you doing?” “I’m just getting up for a while,” Brian answered, trying to sound as casual as possible. “What time is it?” Brian could tell by the growing tone of irritation in Gretchen’s voice that she was waking up and starting to become more aware of what was happening. “It’s after two. It’s late . . . you should go back to sleep.” It was Brian’s last chance of escaping cleanly, but in his heart he knew that it was too little, too late. “Why are you getting up?” “I can’t sleep.” “What do you mean you can’t sleep?” “Just that. I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying in bed for . . . ” “And so you figure if you can’t sleep, I shouldn’t be able to sleep either?” “No, that’s not it at all. Dr. Hasslett said that if I couldn’t sleep, I should try getting up for a while. He said . . . ” “I don’t give a rat’s ass what he said!” Gretchen said angrily, as she reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. “Did it ever occur to you that I have to get up and go to work in the morning? Or that I need to get a good night’s sleep if I’m going to be able to get through the day? Don’t you think you’re being pretty selfish?” “Gretchen, I was trying to be quiet. I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Well that will do me a lot of good when I’m falling asleep at work tomorrow, won’t it?” Gretchen snapped. “I guess I can just tell my boss that I’m sorry I can’t stay awake, but my boyfriend had to get up in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep. But please don’t be mad because he didn’t mean to wake me.” Gretchen’s tone had become vicious and sneering and deep inside, Brian believed that she was enjoying the opportunity to cut into him. “Gretchen, I don’t think . . . ” “No, you don’t think,” Gretchen cut him off abruptly. “That’s why I’m lying here awake at two-thirty in the morning!” “Gretchen . . . ” “You know, Brian, things would go a lot better around here if you would stop just thinking about yourself and consider someone else for a change.” “Gretchen, I . . . ” “You seem to think that you’re the only one around here who has problems. Well, you’re not. I have . . . ” “GRETCHEN!” Brian screamed her name, bringing Gretchen’s tirade to a sudden halt. She stared at him with wide-eyed disbelief, her mouth hanging open with her last word half-formed on her lips. “What?” Gretchen asked finally, with all the indignity she could muster. “Fuck off!” Even in the dim light from the lamp, Brian could see Gretchen go pale as the blood ran from her face. “What did you say?” she asked incredulously. Brian took a deep breath, knowing that it was too late to turn back now. “Just . . . fuck off!” He let the words hang in the air for a moment and then walked out of the room.
12 “How are you feeling today?” “Fine,” Brian said, the abruptness of his answer telling Dr. Hasslett that he was feeling anything but. “Have you been sleeping any better?” “The same.” Once again, Brian’s answer came out in a short clipped phrase. “Nothing has changed since last week,” he added, hoping that by stretching out his answer a little, he wouldn’t sound as agitated as he felt. The last thing he wanted was for Dr. Hasslett to start probing into why he was in such a miserable mood. He knew that he would never get away with a lie and the truth was just too damned embarrassing. What Brian was ashamed to admit was that since the night he had fought with Gretchen after getting up out of bed, he hadn’t had the nerve to try again. In fact, after swearing at her and storming out of the room, he spent the night on the couch rather than risk the confrontation that he would surely face if he woke her up again while getting back into bed. Instead, he lay awake on the sofa for hours before finally dozing off shortly after five, spending most of that time thinking about the earful he expected to be subjected to in the morning. But that wasn’t all. There was something else that he was even more embarrassed about. What Brian didn’t know at the time was that his outburst had been so out of character that Gretchen had decided the situation called for pacification more than castigation. She could tell that she had pushed him too far, maybe far enough for him to start thinking that he’d had all he could take - maybe even far enough to get him thinking about leaving her. That was something she didn’t want, so it was definitely time to bring him back under control. And Gretchen knew that the best way to do that was with sex, including of course, a man-sized helping of her captivating breasts. Which leads to the part of the story that Brian was simply too embarrassed about to tell Dr. Hasslett. Gretchen had been quiet but cordial the morning after their confrontation and properly pleasant when she arrived home from work that evening. After dinner, she excused herself and disappeared mysteriously into the bedroom for twenty minutes or so. Brian parked himself in front of the television and tried to watch the news, but found he couldn’t stop wondering about Gretchen’s unusual behavior. He knew something was up and was afraid that what he had been experiencing up to this point was just the calm before the storm. He had never told Gretchen to fuck off before, so it was hard to judge exactly how upset she might be. The only thing he was sure about was that if Gretchen was pissed off, she would eventually let him know in no uncertain terms. Brian was bracing himself for what might be Gretchen’s worst explosion of wrath and venom yet, when she finally returned from the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and waited for him to look up. From the first glance, Brian knew what she was up to and that in many ways, the results would be much worse than if she had come out consumed with rage. Her anger might have led to a scene that would actually give him the strength to walk out for good. What was about to happen was not only a battle he had no hope of winning, but also one that would ultimately enslave and emasculate him by the time it was through. Standing in the doorway and striking a sexy pose, Gretchen wore a black, fishnet body suit with a wide, red leather belt pulled tight around her waist and matching stiletto heels. Her lips and nails were accentuated with the same salacious color and her makeup was severe and threatening. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked like a sensuous dominatrix, equally capable of subduing her prey with seduction or force. However, the finer points of Gretchen’s ensemble were something Brian wouldn’t notice until later because as she stood in the doorway, smiling lustfully at him from across the room, his eyes became fixed helplessly to her breasts. Squeezed into her tight mesh leotard, they looked like they were truly ready to explode. The material was transparent enough to leave her nipples and the deep, dark valley of her cleavage quite visible and the way the design in the fabric spread apart as it reached around the curves of her abundant bosom seemed to exaggerate its size. Brian could feel the familiar tingling sensations that always accompanied the sight of huge breasts begin to travel across the surface of his skin, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck and goosebumps appear up and down his arms. A wave of arousal swept through him, taking with it any chance of resistance and leaving him as vulnerable and helpless as a wide-eyed doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “How do I look?” Gretchen had asked, as she started across the room. “You look . . . wonderful,” Brian answered, his mouth running dry as his mind focused on Gretchen’s approaching breasts. They had looked spectacular from across the room, but as she drew nearer, their effect became simply overwhelming. Brian caught a glimpse of the look of complete confidence on Gretchen’s face and felt a flicker of resentment. The smugness of her expression infuriated him, but the ripple of anger he felt was no match for the erotic sensations that were quickly overpowering him. Gretchen crawled onto the couch, straddling Brian so that her breasts jutted out from her body directly in front of his face. She paused for a moment to let him admire the sensuous femininity of her shapely curves and then proceeded to bury his face in her tits. Her soft flesh pressed into him and the feminine lace of her body suit rubbed seductively against his cheeks. She placed her hands on the back of his head and held him there firmly, knowing that with each passing moment, any fight that might be left in him was quickly seeping away. From the moment Gretchen entered the room obviously dressed to kill, Brian knew that he wasn’t going to leave her. And once he felt her soft, warm bosom pressing into his face, he even forgot that there had been a time when he had wanted to. By the time she had taken his pounding erection in her hand and stroked it slowly, he was convinced that he would be with Gretchen for the rest of his life; and as he felt her soft lips slide gently along the length of his shaft, he knew that he would beg for forgiveness for his foul outburst of the night before, if she asked him to; and when he finally penetrated her, the hot, wet opening between her legs swallowing him whole and draining him of his manhood until he had nothing left to give, he was quite sure that he would do anything . . . absolutely anything to please her. He had fallen into a thick haze of sensuous erotic bliss where the past and the future ceased to exist and time itself had no meaning. By the end of the evening, he was once again lying in the dark, wide-awake and afraid to move for fear of disturbing Gretchen. But he had convinced himself that her breasts and the incredible things she had done to him on the couch made it all worth while. At least for the time being. Brian looked at Dr. Hasslett and for a fleeting instant considered telling him everything. After all, he already knew about his fetish for large breasts and they had discussed his relationship with Gretchen in detail. Part of him wanted to cry out for help, to beg Dr. Hasslett to save him from this compulsion that seemed to be controlling his life. But something was stopping him. At first he had believed that it was simply humiliation. But now he was beginning to think that it was something more. Dr. Hasslett had been watching Brian and could see quite clearly what he was going through. He sensed Brian’s distress and wanted to do something to relieve it, but his experience told him that Brian would have to calm down before he would relax his defenses and open up about whatever it was that was bothering him. He was even aware that Brian’s state of mind might very likely be a result of the discussions about his life that had gone on during their last session, which would mean in turn that the counseling was having an effect. And that would be a very good thing indeed. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time,” Dr. Hasslett suggested, having decided that the best way to deal with Brian’s mood was to simply carry on. “We were discussing the episodes you experienced with your sister and her friends when you were about nine years old, and the profound impact those episodes had on your attraction to women’s breasts. Let’s move ahead a little now and look at the period of time after those episodes had stopped. Can you remember anything that would lead you to believe your interest in breasts had continued to play a major role in your life as you entered your teens.” Before Brian could even begin to start thinking about an answer to Dr. Hasslett’s question, images popped into his mind as if they had been waiting for an opportunity to spring forth. It occurred to him how ironic it was that he had become so comfortable talking about his past, but telling Dr. Hasslett how he had succumbed to the temptation of Gretchen’s breasts just a few nights ago was completely out of the question. “It’s hard to remember for sure, but I think I started masturbating after the first time Kate and her friends chased me around the house. They might have done it a couple of times but I’m . . . no, I’m pretty sure it was after the first time. I was lying in bed thinking about Donna and her breasts, re-living the whole experience, and I started to get that warm, tingly feeling in my groin and, well . . . you can imagine what happened next. Anyway, once I discovered what was possible, I got hooked pretty quick. I’m sure there was a long period of time when I did it just about every night. All of my fantasies revolved around Donna’s breasts. Sometimes I’d remember things just as they’d happened and then sometimes I’d imagine that they all had huge tits and picture what it would be like to have all of them attacking me at once. “I think I kept fantasizing about Donna even after she stopped hanging around our house, but after a while I started imagining girls from school. By this time, I was in high school, so I was like a kid in a candy store. It seemed like there were girls everywhere, and some of the ones in the higher grades were pretty well endowed. We changed classes every period and my obsession got so bad that I would actually plan my route between classes so that I could pass the biggest breasted girls in the school as often as possible. Even if I had two classes one right after the other on the first floor, I’d run up the stairs to the third floor, walk down the hall and come back down another set of stairs, just for the chance to walk past a girl with big breasts. I can still remember Ula Thorton. She was in grade twelve when I was in grade nine. She was tall, slender and gorgeous . . . and really well-endowed. I passed her in the hall every day on my way to my last class. I’d spend all day wondering how she’d look and what she would be wearing because I knew that the image of her walking down the hall would be what I’d think about when I went to bed that night.” Brian paused and then looked at Dr. Hasslett as if he had forgotten for a moment that there was anyone else in the room. “I’m sorry,” he said a little sheepishly. “I was rambling there a little.” “No, this is good,” Dr. Hasslett reassured him. “Bringing out these kind of memories is very helpful. The patterns of behavior that we exhibit as adults are often habits that continued long after the experiences that created them have been forgotten. Although in actual fact, they are never really forgotten. They just become part of our subconscious mind. These reminiscences open the door to your subconscious, allowing us to deal with issues that may have gone unresolved for a long time. Satisfying those long standing needs will help you to regain control of your life. Remember that the behavioral patterns you want to change are never the problem. They are almost always a symptom of something that goes much deeper. So if at any time you feel your thoughts drifting in a particular direction, don’t try to hold them back.” Dr. Hasslett gave Brian a warm supportive smile. “Is there anything else you can remember?” Once again, the answers to Dr. Hasslett’s questions seemed to pop into Brian’s mind before he even had time to go looking for them. “I think it was about the same time that I discovered the Sears catalogue. I was always afraid my mother would wonder why I got so excited when the big Fall and Winter edition arrived, or why every time she went looking for it, she found it under my bed. I’m not sure what she thought, but I don’t think she ever suspected that it was because I was totally mesmerized by all those pages of women in bras and lingerie. There was a kind of naïve innocence to those days that I guess you can never recapture. I would open that catalogue and look at those beautiful, half-naked women and my cheeks would instantly get hot. I mean, I could really feel them burning. It was like a combination of embarrassment, naughtiness and arousal. It was wonderful. I’d spend hours looking at those pictures, carefully trying to decide which one I would fantasize about in bed that night. I guess you could say at that point I was thoroughly obsessed.” “Were you becoming involved with girls at school?” Dr. Hasslett asked, with the same casual tone he might have asked whether or not Brian had received good grades. “No,” Brian answered quickly. “I was much too shy. I couldn’t stop looking at the girls in school or fantasizing about them, but I never had the nerve to talk to any them.” “So, it might be fair to suggest that your attraction to breasts wasn’t strong enough to overcome your shyness.” “I guess that’s true,” Brian said, thoughtfully. “I mean, there’s no question that shyness won out in those days.” “At what point did you start becoming involved with girls?” “Well, I didn’t date until . . . oh my!” “What is it?” Dr. Hasslett asked. Brian’s face had suddenly filled with color. “I just remembered something that I hadn’t thought about for a long time.” Brian paused, obviously finding it hard to bring himself to say aloud what was on his mind. “Go on, Brian,” Dr. Hasslett prodded gently. “It’s alright.” Brian looked to Dr. Hasslett for support and then took a deep breath. “I have this aunt who lived out of town. She was actually . . .
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