Dave’s marriage sucked. He loved Becca but felt frustrated, trapped, and alone. Over their six-year marriage, she steadily grew more distant from him. Their connection was so strained that they functioned like roommates, seldom sharing a kiss.
It wasn’t as if Becca didn’t love Dave. He was a great provider, strong, loyal, and always emotionally available. She still found her husband attractive. After all, this tall, fit firefighter had even posed for a calendar.
Becca always struggled with insecurities about sex. Despite the countless compliments and people saying she resembled Kate Upton. She was self-conscious and preoccupied with how gross and dirty it felt. The longer they were married, the harder it became for her to force herself into a situation that made her feel so uncomfortable.
Dave was a patient and considerate lover, but no matter how patient and loving he acted, Becca just couldn’t get her mind off of how much it hurt. Better to distance herself than to be a cock tease, she thought as gradually the two drifted further apart.
Becca’s thoughts wandered to her loveless marriage during her lunch break. It was another listless weekend with her and Dave, with barely a word to cut the unspoken tension in the air after giving him the cold shoulder Saturday morning in response to her romantic advances. Dave had hoped to surprise her with breakfast in bed. His well-crafted love letter and the gorgeous necklace he gifted her would spark some hint of desire, especially on their anniversary. It didn’t work and left both of them feeling guilt-ridden and worthless.
Huddled around her co-workers at the lunch table of the break room, Becca couldn’t help but dwell on her failures as a wife and lover, oblivious to her colleagues’ ongoing discussion, which ironically paralleled her inner monologue.
“What about you, Becca?” Melissa's question cut into her thoughts, snapping her back to reality.
“Huh?” Becca turned to her friend as she struggled to catch up with the conversation.
“How many times? Liz says she and her husband want to screw twice a week, and we all think that’s ridiculously high.”
“I don’t know, like six months,” Becca answered before thinking, turning her face red at her own words.
“What the fuck do you mean?” Hope replied, her eyes wide, matching the other co-workers around the table.
Becca chuckled nervously, trying to hide her gaffe, bamboozled at why she let such an intimate detail escape.
“That’s normal, right?” In the back of her head, she knew it wasn’t. Maybe that’s why she let it slip out of guilt.
Following lunch, Becca returned to her desk, only to be followed by Hope. “Hey, Becca, wait up.” Hope called out as she skipped to catch up.
“Hey, just wanted to let you know. “Brad and I were having some issues last year, too, but we saw this therapist, and she really helped.” Hope handed Becca a business card with a caring smile.
“Um, thanks.” Becca’s blush betrayed her discomfort. She wished she hadn’t shared so much with the whole office.
“I know, I know, I wasn’t comfortable with a therapist either. But I trust them more than these skanks.” A giggle from Hope broke the tension, then she smiled kindly and went back to her desk.
Becca stared at the card on the corner of her desk for the rest of the evening. It couldn’t be that helpful, could it? But it couldn’t hurt either. Maybe Hope was right, Becca thought. If she was going to vent, she might as well vent to someone without becoming the talk of the office. Becca took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and scheduled an appointment for the next day.
The therapist’s office smelled faintly of sandalwood and leather. Becca, fidgeting with her purse strap, felt a familiar wave of anxiety wash over her. She’d rehearsed what she wanted to say a hundred times, but the words felt clumsy and inadequate now that she was actually there, sitting anxiously on the corner of the long, plush couch.
Dr. Anna Troia, a woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile, listened patiently as Becca recounted her story, the years of unspoken longing and simmering resentment finally spilling out. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it was a space for Becca to breathe, to process the weight of her confessions. When she finished, Dr. Troia simply nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve carried a lot of guilt and shame, Becca,” she said softly. “And it’s understandable, given the societal pressures around sex and intimacy.”
“But it’s not your fault,” Dr. Troia continued, her voice calming and gentle. “Many women struggle with these feelings, and it’s not a reflection of your worth or your love for Dave. We can explore the root of your discomfort, work through the shame, and find ways to be more comfortable with your body and sex.”
Becca, surprised by the therapist’s directness, felt the blood rush to her face. She couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, but Dr. Troia’s kind words stilled her heart, reassuring her and giving her a spark of hope.
“What I hear is that you’re not comfortable with your own body, and if you’re not comfortable with your own body, how can you be expected to be comfortable with your partner?” Dr. Troia said with a comforting smile. The therapist’s composed demeanor, the quiet confidence in her eyes, and the soothing calmness radiating from her struck Becca. Dr. Troia’s perfectly styled hair, impeccably tailored blouse, and the subtle, alluring aura she emanated left Becca mesmerized.
“Let’s work on some body awareness exercises; try lying down and taking a few deep breaths.” Dr. Troia offered, gesturing to the inviting couch. Becca, already feeling more at ease, heeded her suggestion. “The first step is to be comfortable. Once you’re relaxed, you can start the process of connecting and being comfortable with your body. Try closing your eyes and thinking of a peaceful place or time in your life where you feel most relaxed and safe. Try picturing your partner. Picture Dave there, making you safe.”
Becca closed her eyes and attempted to relax, but was finding it difficult to dream of Dave. “It’s hard to picture.” She admitted with a sigh. “I’m not good at imagining.”
Suddenly, someone was holding her hand. Becca gasped, startled. Dr. Troia’s touch was surprisingly warm, grounding her in the present. “It’s okay,” Dr. Troia murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby. “We don’t have to force it. Sometimes, the journey to self-acceptance starts with small steps, with noticing the sensations in your body, the weight of the blanket, the warmth of my hand.” The pressure on her hand was light but strangely comforting. Becca found herself relaxing slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. A new kind of calm settled over her, a calm that had nothing to do with Dave and everything to do with the unexpected comfort in Dr. Troia’s presence.
Becca closed her eyes again. Seamlessly drifting off into her daydream. Lying on a tranquil beach, hand in hand with Dave. With a vast sigh of relief, she let the air out of her lungs. Dr. Troia recognized her deep, relaxed breaths, captivated by the way Becca’s impressive chest rose and fell, straining the fabric of her low-cut t-shirt.
“That’s right, you’re doing great.” Dr. Troia spoke slowly and gently, her voice soft and calming. “Let the relaxation wash over you. Connect with your five senses.” Her warm tone melted away Becca’s tension, allowing her to slip deeper into her daydream. “Let your body unwind from your toes running all the way to your head.”
With a slow exhale, Becca surrendered to the stillness, her body relaxing into the soft earth as a peaceful trance enveloped her.
“As you’re relaxing, be mindful of your partner.” In a sweet and enchanting voice, Dr. Troia encouraged Becca. “He is a part of your tranquil state. You’re relaxing with him. Picture your partner helping you. As you feel the relaxation washing over you, his hands take over, guiding you through your mindfulness. The relaxation you feel now flows through his loving hands as he slowly guides them from the top of your feet up the length of your legs to your thighs.”
An exasperated sigh rang out, “I can’t do it.” Becca moaned.
A frown of frustration crept across Dr. Troia’s face, but her voice remained soft and encouraging. “You can, Becca; give yourself some grace.”
“Can you help?” Becca asked meekly, “Like you held my hand.” Becca whispered hopefully, reflecting on how much the therapist had helped her picture Dave holding her hand earlier.
It was exactly what Dr. Troia wanted to hear. Dr. Troia smiled reassuringly at Becca, her eyes filled with understanding. “Of course, Becca. I’m here to guide you through this process.” With a gentle touch, Dr. Troia reached out and gently ran her hand down from the tops of Becca’s feet up to the tight fabric of her jeans, massaging her shins and slowly wandering up her toned thighs.
“Let’s take this step by step,” she suggested, her voice as soothing as her touch. “Focus on the sensation of my hand against your skin. Feel the warmth, the connection between us. Let that feeling ground you in the present moment.”
Becca closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped in the comfort of Dr. Troia’s touch. As she breathed in deeply, a sense of trust and safety grew within her. Dr. Troia’s guidance was like a gentle current carrying her toward a place of inner peace and self-acceptance. At that moment, Becca realized that the path to reconnecting with herself was not about Dave or anyone else, but about embracing the support and guidance that was right in front of her.
“Can you picture your partner now?” Dr. Troia asked.
“Yes,” Becca whispered. Her breath hitched as Dr. Troia’s fingers continued their journey up her sensitive legs. Lightly grazed her hips and began to tickle her stomach. A forgotten warmth ignited within her, a familiar yearning she hadn’t felt in years.
“When was the last time you practiced self-pleasure?” Dr. Troia asked.
Becca hesitated, a blush warming her cheeks. “It’s been... a while,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. Dr. Troia nodded understandingly, her touch lingering momentarily on Becca’s abdomen.
“That’s okay,” she reassured her gently. “We’ll rediscover that connection together. Focus on the sensations my hand is creating. Let yourself feel the pleasure, the warmth, without judgment. This is about you, Becca, about reconnecting with your own body and its needs.”
The air thickened with unspoken intimacy as Dr. Troia’s hand moved rhythmically, a slow, deliberate exploration that echoed Becca’s own building anticipation. A soft moan escaped Becca’s lips, a sound of both surprise and burgeoning delight as she felt Dr. Troia unbutton her jeans.
The denim yielded to the doctor’s touch, revealing the smooth skin beneath. Becca gasped, a wave of shock and exhilaration washing over her, her heart pounding in her chest. Dr. Troia’s fingers, warm and knowing, traced the delicate curve of her hip, then ventured lower, eliciting a shudder that rippled through Becca’s body. The years of self-imposed restraint began to melt away under the skilled therapist’s warm caress. It wasn’t just physical; it was a release, a thawing of the emotional ice that had encased her. Becca’s breathing grew ragged. Each inhale a plea, each exhale a surrender. The boundaries between therapy and intimacy blurred, replaced by a fiery need. Becca could no longer keep her eyes closed.
Becca’s wide, desperate eyes locked with Dr. Troia’s, silently pleading. A shiver ran through Becca as the doctor’s touch found its way to the most intimate part of her being. Dr. Troia leaned closer until her breath tickled Becca’s ear. “Do you usually get this wet?” she breathed, her voice husky and low.
Becca’s throat tightened. She couldn’t answer, the question hanging heavy in the air, mirroring the cluster of intense sensations flooding her. Dr. Troia’s touch was a revelation, a rediscovery of a part of her she’d almost forgotten. The years of repression felt like a distant memory, replaced by a raw, overwhelming desire. Becca couldn’t resist moving closer to the doctor, fixated on her full, tempting lips.
Overwhelmed by untamed passion, their lips met in a searing kiss, the taste of each other electrifying their senses. Becca’s hands, trembling slightly, found their way to Dr. Troia’s hair, pulling gently. Sensing Becca’s increasing lust, the doctor instinctively knew what she needed and unbuttoned her own blouse.
Dr. Troia’s unexpected disrobing left Becca momentarily dazed. Her intense, primal lust kept her eyes glued to the unfamiliar sight of a woman undressing. The sight of Dr. Troia’s full breasts, with her wide areola and hardening nipple, left Becca spellbound as the doctor unclasped her bra.
“Just relax.” Dr. Troia’s soft words of encouragement filled the room as she gently directed Becca toward her inviting nipple. Lost in the moment, Becca’s gentle whimper filled the room as she suckled on the doctor’s breast.
The room seemed to fade away as Dr. Troia’s fingers returned to Becca’s expectant folds. The line between doctor and patient dissolved completely, replaced by a raw, primal connection. Dr. Troia slowly ran her fingers up and down Becca’s wet slit in a teasing manner, toying with her needy clit. Her relaxing rhythm inspired Becca to grind against her hand as she continued to moan into Dr. Troia’s breast.
Becca let out a sigh of relief as Dr. Troia’s thumb mercifully made contact with her clit. Her heart pounded, her thoughts raced, and her breath caught as Dr. Troia gently inserted a finger inside her. Dr. Troia grinned in triumph as she felt Becca’s tightness greedily clasp her digit. “See? You want it now, don’t you?”
She was right; all Becca could think about was the deluge of pleasure sweeping through her body. Becca gasped and panted as her thighs began to quiver, her body flooded with ecstasy as an epic orgasm engulfed her. Becca’s moans and whimpers quickly escalated into a loud, primal scream of pure, unadulterated release.
The two clung to each other as Becca basked in the afterglow of her long-awaited climax. Her body echoed the euphoric afterglow of pure contentment. Tears welled in Becca’s eyes, a mixture of bliss and a profound sense of letting go. “Thank you so much.” She held on tight, whispering into Dr. Troia’s open mouth.
“What an amazing job! I’m so proud of you.” Dr. Troia said, gently running her fingers through Becca’s hair. “Now, you can go home and try this exercise with your husband.” Becca’s expression changed, and her face fell. Dr. Troia understood her distress. “I’m sorry, I understand if it’s still difficult. I’d be more than happy to continue to help you work through your issues. Maybe if he comes in, I can help you together.”
Becca‘s face lit up. “That would be perfect!”
