Speaker 1: I drop into the cushy chair, peeling off the layers
of pretense with each word, letting the raw frustration bleed through.
It's just endless, you know, one disappointing man after another.
Each time it's like unwrapping a bad gift. Too eager,
too quick, or just not enough where it counts. I laugh,
but it's hollow, edged with bitterness. I mean, can you
believe it? They parade their desires like they're doing you
a favor, and their bodies. Some promise a marathon but
can barely manage a sprint. My voice grows harsher, the
words sharper, and let's not even talk about size. It's
like they think they can compensate for lack of skill
with sheer bravado. When it comes down to it, half
of them don't even know what to do with what
they've got. The room is thick with my confessions, each
one hanging heavier than the last. The therapist shifts in
his seat, his professional mask slipping as the tension builds.
You know, he starts, his voice strained, his gaze intense.
All this talk it's not just talk for me. It's
getting hard to just sit here. I stop caught off guard,
watching as he stands abruptly, the scrape of his chair
loud in the quiet room. There's a new energy between us,
something palpable and charged. He walks towards me, each step deliberate.
I'm not like those men, you know. I can show
you if you let me. His voice is rough, almost desperate.
Before I can respond, he's there right in front of me,
unzipping his pants with unsteady hands. This, this is what
I want to give you, what they couldn't. My heart
races as he crosses a line I never thought he'd dare.
The room is quiet, just our heavy breathing filling the space.
I think to myself, the audacity of him. But he
is hot, such arrogance, because he knows it. Wow, he's big.
I pause to make him nervous, make him question himself,
to let him know I'm in control here, and because
this is completely nuts. For a moment, he freezes his
eyes wide, perhaps realizing the precipice where on the silence
stretches a taut thread ready to snap. Then slowly, a
smile curls the corners of my lips, dark and promising.
I lean forward, forward, the distance closing. As I take
the final step he dared not finish. The room blurs
around us, every sound muffled except for the sharp intake
of his breath. As I make my choice, pulling him
into the depths of my desires, the line isn't just crossed,
it's obliterated.