Lacking Intimacy p.1? [MF]

“Well, Nick,” Carly said, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t like to use the word diagnosis. To me that means there’s something wrong with you, something that has to be ‘fixed’, and of course there’s nothing truly wrong with you. You’re not sick, are you?”

“Uh, no, I’m not,” I said, confused.

“Right. So what I’m about to say isn’t so much as a diagnosis, but more of something that I want you to try on for size.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, still confused.

“I think you’re missing intimacy in your life.”

“Intimacy?” I said, questioningly. I wasn’t missing intimacy. Do guys really need intimacy in their lives?

“Yes, intimacy,” she began. Her eyes softened. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and her shirt opened just a bit more, tantalizing me with her cleavage. “We often think of intimacy as something that is purely physical…you know, *sex*,” she said, placing a confusing emphasis on the word sex. “But intimacy is so much more than that. It’s something that you share with someone, a kind of vulnerability that you don’t feel with someone at work, or a family member. It’s…more comfortable than that, it’s safe.”

I thought on Carly’s comments for a moment. I had to admit that ever since my divorce it had felt as if something were missing – something inside of me, a piece of me. I went out regularly, frequenting bars and other places where I thought I could meet women, but every trip felt shallow. Even on the one time that I’d managed to score with a moderately attractive woman, I wanted her out of my bed right away the next day. I didn’t feel vulnerable, and I didn’t feel mentally safe. Physically, sure, but not mentally.

“I don’t think I can argue with that,” I nodded.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she said, running her fingers through her dark hair. “Of course, as we continue to work together, other things might come up too, but I’m very interested in working with you more on ways that you can find intimacy in your life.”

“Yes…me too,” I said, once again confused. “And, just so I’m clear, what are the ways that I can find intimacy in my life?”

“I’m glad you asked.” She scooted forward in her chair, her legs pressed together tightly, the pencil skirt rising just above her knees. “You see, Nick, Dr. Osinki and I share a lot of the same techniques – heck, I learned from the guy – but there’s one major way in which I differ.” She let the words hang in the air, cocking her head sideways, studying me.

“And what’s that?”

“Dr. Osinki would have probably asked you to sit back in that chair, close your eyes, imagine yourself in one situation or the next. Maybe that you were on a date with a woman, and she’d just asked you about your ex-wife, and how you might have responded. But that’s not me – I practice a relatively new form of psychotherapy called experimental psychotherapy. Have you ever heard of it before?”

“Nope,” I answered honestly, slightly worried that Carly was about to spit some serious psychobabble at me.

“Perfect,” she said, raising her arms in the air almost in a victorious motion. “People read a lot on the internet these days. Sometimes I have clients who come in here and think they know more about how to do my job than I do!” I was very confused, but smiled politely. “My approach is pretty simply, actually – I work with my clients to physically *experience* the challenges that they’re facing in their life. So, if you were afraid of snakes, you and I might go to the zoo together and look at the snake exhibit. Then, the next week, we might ask one of the trainers to let you hold a snake. It’s a somewhat extreme take on classic behavioral conditioning.”

“But I’m not afraid of snakes,” I said. “Apparently I have intimacy problems.”

“Nick, you don’t have intimacy *problems*,” she said. “You’re just missing intimacy in your life.”

“And how do I fix it?” I asked, somewhat frustrated at my inability to follow what she was saying.

“Well, that depends.”

“On *what*?” I asked, definitely frustrated.

Carly placed her notebook on the small table next to her chair, and then stood. Seated in my comfortable recliner I noticed just how tall she actually was, but as I stared her up and down, I became incredibly aware of just how attractive she was. She was thin, no doubt, but the form-fitting blouse and pencil skirt hugged her curves nicely, highlighting well-shaped thighs, a flat stomach, and breasts that may have been slightly larger than I originally thought. As she tied her dark hair behind her head I found myself becoming aroused at her graceful movements and oozing sexuality. Is one even supposed to think of their therapist like that?

“On you, silly,” she said, her delicate fingers going to the button on her blouse. I felt my jaw begin to drop as those delicate fingers deftly opened each button on her blouse until she reached the part where the blouse tucked into her skirt. Underneath she had on a tight white tank top that could not hide her tight abs and approximately B-cup breasts.

“You need intimacy in your life,” she said matter of factly as she pulled the blouse out of her skirt and finished undoing the buttons. As she slid the blouse from her shoulders, I noted that the pink straps of her bra were visible. “In order to experience that with you, I’d have to join you for your date with someone else, and that would be pretty awkward. But here, in my office, we can experiment with intimacy. That is, if you’re interested.”

I tried to form words with my mouth, but the blood had rushed to my groin. Carly gave me a sexy pouty face, then walked slowly over to me, still seated in my chair. She gave a slow spin, allowing me to appreciate the way that the skirt framed her apple-shaped ass. She stopped with her back to me, then reached up sexily and pulled her hair together in her hands, lifting it up and showing me a graceful neck.

“There’s a zipper on my right hip. I’d love for you to help me out of this incredibly tight skirt. If you do, I’ll assume that you’re interested in my helping you explore your need for intimacy.

I swallowed hard and, hands shaking, reached over to the zipper on her right hip. There wasn’t even one part of me that thought twice about slowly sliding it down. I could see the fabric release from around her waist, and the skirt started to become slightly baggy around her hips.

“Perfect,” she purred, turning slowly so that she was facing me again. Her hands went to the hem of the skirt and I watched as she almost childishly shimmed the skirt down her thighs, her breasts wobbling as she did so. It seemed as if she were swaying to some imaginary music in her head. When the skirt hit the floor, she put her hands to her hips, pushing them forward. I was greeted by an amazingly sexy pink g-string that framed her undoubtedly hairless pussy perfectly. It sat low on her hips and couldn’t have been more than a few inches above her clit, certainly well below her belly button. My eyes trailed up her body, over her flat stomach and small, but full, breasts. She stared at me intently.

“Like what you see?” she said sexily.

“Um.”

“Let’s see just how much you like it,” she said, dropping to her knees in front of me and using her elbows to spread my legs. With incredible skill she undid my belt, popped the button, pulled the z

“Well, Nick,” Carly said, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t like to use the word diagnosis. To me that means there’s something wrong with you, something that has to be ‘fixed’, and of course there’s nothing truly wrong with you. You’re not sick, are you?”

“Uh, no, I’m not,” I said, confused.

“Right. So what I’m about to say isn’t so much as a diagnosis, but more of something that I want you to try on for size.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, still confused.

“I think you’re missing intimacy in your life.”

“Intimacy?” I said, questioningly. I wasn’t missing intimacy. Do guys really need intimacy in their lives?

“Yes, intimacy,” she began. Her eyes softened. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and her shirt opened just a bit more, tantalizing me with her cleavage. “We often think of intimacy as something that is purely physical…you know, *sex*,” she said, placing a confusing emphasis on the word sex. “But intimacy is so much more than that. It’s something that you share with someone, a kind of vulnerability that you don’t feel with someone at work, or a family member. It’s…more comfortable than that, it’s safe.”

I thought on Carly’s comments for a moment. I had to admit that ever since my divorce it had felt as if something were missing – something inside of me, a piece of me. I went out regularly, frequenting bars and other places where I thought I could meet women, but every trip felt shallow. Even on the one time that I’d managed to score with a moderately attractive woman, I wanted her out of my bed right away the next day. I didn’t feel vulnerable, and I didn’t feel mentally safe. Physically, sure, but not mentally.

“I don’t think I can argue with that,” I nodded.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she said, running her fingers through her dark hair. “Of course, as we continue to work together, other things might come up too, but I’m very interested in working with you more on ways that you can find intimacy in your life.”

“Yes…me too,” I said, once again confused. “And, just so I’m clear, what are the ways that I can find intimacy in my life?”

“I’m glad you asked.” She scooted forward in her chair, her legs pressed together tightly, the pencil skirt rising just above her knees. “You see, Nick, Dr. Osinki and I share a lot of the same techniques – heck, I learned from the guy – but there’s one major way in which I differ.” She let the words hang in the air, cocking her head sideways, studying me.

“And what’s that?”

“Dr. Osinki would have probably asked you to sit back in that chair, close your eyes, imagine yourself in one situation or the next. Maybe that you were on a date with a woman, and she’d just asked you about your ex-wife, and how you might have responded. But that’s not me – I practice a relatively new form of psychotherapy called experimental psychotherapy. Have you ever heard of it before?”

“Nope,” I answered honestly, slightly worried that Carly was about to spit some serious psychobabble at me.

“Perfect,” she said, raising her arms in the air almost in a victorious motion. “People read a lot on the internet these days. Sometimes I have clients who come in here and think they know more about how to do my job than I do!” I was very confused, but smiled politely. “My approach is pretty simply, actually – I work with my clients to physically *experience* the challenges that they’re facing in their life. So, if you were afraid of snakes, you and I might go to the zoo together and look at the snake exhibit. Then, the next week, we might ask one of the trainers to let you hold a snake. It’s a somewhat extreme take on classic behavioral conditioning.”

“But I’m not afraid of snakes,” I said. “Apparently I have intimacy problems.”

“Nick, you don’t have intimacy *problems*,” she said. “You’re just missing intimacy in your life.”

“And how do I fix it?” I asked, somewhat frustrated at my inability to follow what she was saying.

“Well, that depends.”

“On *what*?” I asked, definitely frustrated.

Carly placed her notebook on the small table next to her chair, and then stood. Seated in my comfortable recliner I noticed just how tall she actually was, but as I stared her up and down, I became incredibly aware of just how attractive she was. She was thin, no doubt, but the form-fitting blouse and pencil skirt hugged her curves nicely, highlighting well-shaped thighs, a flat stomach, and breasts that may have been slightly larger than I originally thought. As she tied her dark hair behind her head I found myself becoming aroused at her graceful movements and oozing sexuality. Is one even supposed to think of their therapist like that?

“On you, silly,” she said, her delicate fingers going to the button on her blouse. I felt my jaw begin to drop as those delicate fingers deftly opened each button on her blouse until she reached the part where the blouse tucked into her skirt. Underneath she had on a tight white tank top that could not hide her tight abs and approximately B-cup breasts.

“You need intimacy in your life,” she said matter of factly as she pulled the blouse out of her skirt and finished undoing the buttons. As she slid the blouse from her shoulders, I noted that the pink straps of her bra were visible. “In order to experience that with you, I’d have to join you for your date with someone else, and that would be pretty awkward. But here, in my office, we can experiment with intimacy. That is, if you’re interested.”

I tried to form words with my mouth, but the blood had rushed to my groin. Carly gave me a sexy pouty face, then walked slowly over to me, still seated in my chair. She gave a slow spin, allowing me to appreciate the way that the skirt framed her apple-shaped ass. She stopped with her back to me, then reached up sexily and pulled her hair together in her hands, lifting it up and showing me a graceful neck.

“There’s a zipper on my right hip. I’d love for you to help me out of this incredibly tight skirt. If you do, I’ll assume that you’re interested in my helping you explore your need for intimacy.

I swallowed hard and, hands shaking, reached over to the zipper on her right hip. There wasn’t even one part of me that thought twice about slowly sliding it down. I could see the fabric release from around her waist, and the skirt started to become slightly baggy around her hips.

“Perfect,” she purred, turning slowly so that she was facing me again. Her hands went to the hem of the skirt and I watched as she almost childishly shimmed the skirt down her thighs, her breasts wobbling as she did so. It seemed as if she were swaying to some imaginary music in her head. When the skirt hit the floor, she put her hands to her hips, pushing them forward. I was greeted by an amazingly sexy pink g-string that framed her undoubtedly hairless pussy perfectly. It sat low on her hips and couldn’t have been more than a few inches above her clit, certainly well below her belly button. My eyes trailed up her body, over her flat stomach and small, but full, breasts. She stared at me intently.

“Like what you see?” she said sexily.

“Um.”

“Let’s see just how much you like it,” she said, dropping to her knees in front of me and using her elbows to spread my legs. With incredible skill she undid my belt, popped the button, pulled the zipper down, and helped me slide my pants down my thighs to my knees. Even I was surprised at how hard I’d become, my erection tight against my left thigh in my boxer briefs.

“Goodness, you really do like what you see,” she responded, running the fingernail on her pointer finger along its length. “I have to admit, I like what you’ve got going on there.”

Holding her hair behind her head with her left hand, I watched as Carly slowly dropped her head to my crotch, dragging her tongue across my raging hard-on through my boxer briefs. When she reached the head she swirled her tongue around it as much as she could, her hot breath feeling incredible even through the material. Slowly, she pulled back the elastic, allowing my cock to pop free from its constraint. The cool air in the room blew across my dick, causing it to construct and convulse involuntarily.

“Damn,” she said breathlessly. “We’re both going to enjoy this.” Her head once again dropped to my crotch as, all in one motion, she swallowed my length into her warm mouth. My shaft remained deep within her throat as the flat part of her tongue snaked along my length. She then backed away, her hand replacing her lips as she massaged my steel-like rod in slow repetitions, her tongue swirling my cock with gentle grazes. She alternated between these two styles for the next minute – swallowing me deep, then teasing. Deep, then teasing, Deep, then teasing. All the way down, then back up, unabashedly playing to my carnal senses.

Suddenly my cock popped free from her lips. “I usually don’t go this far with my clients on the first date, but screw it. I’ve got to have this thing inside of me.”ipper down, and helped me slide my pants down my thighs to my knees. Even I was surprised at how hard I’d become, my erection tight against my left thigh in my boxer briefs.

“Goodness, you really do like what you see,” she responded, running the fingernail on her pointer finger along its length. “I have to admit, I like what you’ve got going on there.”

Holding her hair behind her head with her left hand, I watched as Carly slowly dropped her head to my crotch, dragging her tongue across my raging hard-on through my boxer briefs. When she reached the head she swirled her tongue around it as much as she could, her hot breath feeling incredible even through the material. Slowly, she pulled back the elastic, allowing my cock to pop free from its constraint. The cool air in the room blew across my dick, causing it to construct and convulse involuntarily.

“Damn,” she said breathlessly. “We’re both going to enjoy this.” Her head once again dropped to my crotch as, all in one motion, she swallowed my length into her warm mouth. My shaft remained deep within her throat as the flat part of her tongue snaked along my length. She then backed away, her hand replacing her lips as she massaged my steel-like rod in slow repetitions, her tongue swirling my cock with gentle grazes. She alternated between these two styles for the next minute – swallowing me deep, then teasing. Deep, then teasing, Deep, then teasing. All the way down, then back up, unabashedly playing to my carnal desires.

Suddenly my cock popped free from her lips. “I usually don’t go this far with my clients on the first date, but screw it. I’ve got to have this thing inside of me.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/btg92m/lacking_intimacy_p1_mf