The Therapist Pt. 01

Literotic asexstories – The Therapist Pt. 01 by Releasingloads,Releasingloads
This is the first of many series in what I call perspective stories. The story will switch between the perspective of two characters experiencing the same event differently. In each segment of the story you will experience both the male and female perspective of the experience. Also please note, this story series will contain strong racial themes and words mixed with BDSM themes. The stories are musings inside the mind of a Black man and a Muslim Woman.

Dante—-

Amena was a stranger to therapy, especially the kind of work therapy Dante performed. But she knew it was finally time she sought help for the struggles that plagued her for years. Amena’s secret is… not like everyone else’s so normal therapy wouldn’t be much help, but she figured Sexual therapy might be worth a try.

After some quick googling, Amena found a name; Dr. Dante Rivers. There was not much information about him online, except review after review about how helpful and life-changing it was for everyone that went. Also there was this case study he published about something called re-enactment therapy. But when Amena tried to access the case-study it was restricted access only. This peaked her curiosity so she decided to call Dante’s office and set up an appointment. The consultation was free so she didn’t believe any harm would come from the appointment.

On appointment day, Amena sat in the waiting room and filled out all the paperwork she needed to see the doctor. Suddenly, a thin but curvy blonde woman rushed out of the office, somewhat disheveled and her sweater hanging off her shoulders. Amena begins to question if this free consultation is worth the risk, when the woman hurries out the door and doesn’t make eye contact. She thought it was weird, but nobody likes therapy at first so maybe the woman just had an emotional breakthrough; little did she know what awaited her in that room. Though she is rethinking the appointment, all of a sudden it is too late when the receptionist calls her name and tells her to go inside. Entering the office the receptionist closes the door behind her and Amena is left with Dr. Rivers.

The office is very dimly lit as if it were an exquisite romantic restaurant. While the office had the comfortable couch Amena had imagined, there was so much more she hadn’t expected. Looking around, the office had a strange collection of items Amena had never seen before. Books on every kink and sexual disorder. Harnesses. Wigs. Dildos. Vibrators. Toys. Fleshlights. Whips. Chains. Anything you could imagine in a sex shop was in this office hanging from the wall as if they were tools in his workshop. This collection was enough to impress anyone, but Amena’s was definitely intrigued.

After being entranced with the room for a few moments, her attention turns to Dr. Dante Rivers. She had not seen his picture online because it was not posted, but had she saw it she might have reconsidered going into his office. Dante filled every sexual fantasy box that Amena struggled with, he was a tall dark-skinned man standing 6’4. He did not wear a tie but his pect muscle popped through his black dress shirt that was unbuttoned to his mid chest. He wore a pair of tan khaki pants that struggled to contain the monster 11inch cock that was hanging down his leg. Amena got caught staring for a moment because she could tell that Dr. Dante wasn’t wearing any boxers or she was trying to examine close enough to see.

Noticing that Amena is staring he calls for her attention with his deep boomy voice”Ummm….Hello, Amena is it?” he says stretching his hand out to shake hers as he directs her to a seat in the black chair. “So… what kink or fantasy brings you here today Amena?”

Amena—-

Amena’s mind was swirling, she was still tempted to turn around and leave. She was 45, and she had been running her whole life, running from her past, running from the feelings that boiled up when she thought about her past. Brought back memories of all those black men in her youth. Their cocks, their hands and their bodies all over her. Lately her mind had been plagued by it, the lack of sex since her marriage combined with her past experiences had led her to masturbate.

The thing that had tipped her towards coming to therapy was when she was sitting down to pray, and her mind wandered to her carnal past, and she ended up masturbating on the prayer mat, instead of praying to Allah, she remembered how she prayed to Black cocks

It terrified her, shook her to her core. She had done a remarkable job at he repressing her past, of changing who she was. Becoming this pious woman, she had convinced her self that there was no chance that she would ever revert to becoming like that again. And that was the main reason why, this 5 ft 3, thick mature woman with her 40-28-40, 34E cup natural tits sat in the therapists couch, the red abaya that she had on stretching, struggling to contain her assets.

She was still processing the fact that Dante was black, handsome, and if her eyes were not deceiving her, then hung. She hoped that somehow she would be able to get over this addiction that had followed her whole life. She believed being a thick woman now, and no longer the young 18 year that she had been would help her. Even so she hadn’t expected Dante to be so forward with the question, so straight to the point. But I guess since the first session was free it made sense to get to the point straight away.

“Yes…its Amena. Well the reason I am here is because I have not even a fantasy, or a kink. But an addiction…I have an addiction to black men, to black cocks. And I have been running from my past when I had experienced a lot of it.

And I almost lost myself in that addiction, and these feelings are bubbling up. When I think about black men, and especially about the black men that had…had..fu…fucked me in the past…I get…ho…horny…and its starting to consume me. And I don’t want this addiction to ruin me the way it almost did in the past.” Amena blurted out, her eyes filled with tears, she felt a sense of relief, like this huge pressure had been lifted off her shoulders. She looked up and saw Dante’s eyes staring at her intently, his gaze made her tremble.

She had read somewhere that black men didn’t like being fetishized the way they were online. But her addiction, her fetish so to speak came before the internet was what it is now.

It came from actual experience, and her actual experience told her that black men loved to be worshiped and reminded that they were indeed superior. But Dante looked much younger than her at least between 30 to 32. So from a different generation, the one that was more woke. So perhaps he was offended by what she had said. She sat there nervously waiting for his response, trying her best to keep her eyes from staring at his crotch.

Dante—-

“Amena, that took a lot of courage to share that with me. Especially since I am a black man…”He paused to look into her eyes briefly before continuing his speech. “Let me start with a few things. First, I am a sex therapist, so there is nothing you could say that would shock me. Be sure when you speak practice un-filtering yourself, uncensoring yourself. In this space your desires are normal and so are you. It is my job to help you explore those desires in a safe way.” Dante was not taken aback by being the object of Amena’s fetish, in fact fetishes of black men were more common than she might have realized and he told her as much.

“Maybe in your culture, it was not normal to be attracted or enamored with other races but it’s just as normal as an Asian fetish or Latina, or any race. To want to worship or hold sacred something that you’ve been denied is very normal. Let me tell you about my approach to therapy. I include all of the traditional aspects of cognitive therapy but I believe this space should be a safe space for re-enacting fantasy. My patients see it as a way to tame the beast inside them once or twice a week by unleashing their natural or “unnatural” urges. Essentially, you are being treated by fulfilling the missing desires that you have repressed. So…..lay back on the couch Amena” he said while directing her to get comfortable on the couch.

“I think we need to start with when you think this addiction began. What was your first encounter with a black man” Dante seemed a bit more intrigued with this case than normal, he saw the desire in Amena’s eyes. He knew if he offered she would jump at the chance for him to unzip his pants and release the monster inside his pants. Most of his patients loved that they could comfortably discuss and re-enact their atypical desires with him. But he knew Amena had an animalistic desire to devour him and although somewhat unprofessional it turned him on.

He was standing as he directed her toward the couch but he immediately felt his cock growing and beginning to rise within his pants. He tried to adjust and get seated quickly but the way Amena’s gaze was fixed to his print outline, he knew she had noticed. Clearing his throat Dante tried to redirect to his question. “Umm…..so…Tell me when this first began for you Amena”.

Amena—-

Even though everything Dante was saying to her sounded like typical therapist jargon to Amena, the manner in which he was saying these things less felt like advice more like commands. It felt like she would have no choice but try out this re-enacting fantasy therapy that he specialized in. Amena didn’t want to speak any further, her gut instinct told her to stop here not to go any further. But even as she tried to convince herself to end this session before she told him any more things, her eyes kept going to his crotch, where she could have sworn she had seen his bulge and saw it straining against his pants but she shook her head.

“Well it started when I was 18…my father was really ill, and I was his only daughter, the odd jobs I was doing in between studying was not helping and my mothers different jobs just wasn’t enough. So I remember a friend of mine telling me about these videos…well it might better to show you.” Amena said gulping her hands shaking as she realized she was about to show it to him. During one of her binges of watching BBC porn to satiate her craven desires she came across a video of hers. She handed Dante the phone and pressed play as she sat back.

The quality of the video was pretty bad like it had been shot maybe 27 years ago. It looked like some sort of underground amateur porn featuring a young, exotic looking girl wearing a hijab. The girl was Amena, if you knew who Amena was and looked hard enough the girl was unmistakably her, but if you were just causally looking it would be hard to piece the young teen in the video with the mature woman sitting on the therapists office.

Despite being almost 27 years ago it was still clear as day that the woman was her. Amena was worried that the past had finally caught up with her. She had done a handful of pornographic videos back in the day. A friend from university had told her that she knew a film maker that was looking for an exotic woman to play a part in an Adult film. That they paid well. Initially she did it out of need for money, her family had been struggling badly. But she continued doing it because she was addicted to having sex with black men.

The taboo of it all especially back then when relationships between the black and Pakistani communities were far more fraught and difficult. The male model in the video was Little John. His name never made any sense to her. As there was nothing little about him. He was her favorite co-star to work with. The one who had fucked on and off screen most but was not the only one.

Her intense off screen trysts, combined with the shame she felt after her father had passed were what finally made her turn away from it all. Along with the fact that she had been knocked up by Little John, and then forced to get an abortion, through some back alley clinic left her traumatized. So she turned her back on it all, She agreed to arranged marriage and moved to a new city with her husband. She told Dante all of this as she heard him press play.

She knew that no one would really recognize her, and even the video that her therapist was now watching had very low views. The movies did not sell at all back then. And getting copies of it were difficult but clearly a copy some how ended up on the internet. She couldn’t believe that she was showing this to her therapist, she just couldn’t believe it, she realized rather belated that that soon a part was coming up, one that she was sure would get her kicked out of the therapists office.

“You know I don’t do this for the money. What I want is a big, fat black cock to rape me like the worthless paki bitch I am. That’s all I am good for. Fuck my holes like you want to break me. Let me lick the delicious sweat from your balls and ass. Use my mouth as nothing more than a hole to wash your godly cock in!” she moaned as she crawled on all fours towards the camera with a look of hunger on her face.

“Please… fuck me, rape me, use me, destroy mualrghh!” she got interrupted mid sentence as a big black man violently grabbed her skull. Without skipping a beat jammed a massive black shaft straight down her throat, bulging out her neck as he began violently pounding her face while her eyes rolled into the back of her head as if she was in a trance.

He only stopped himself from unloading down her throat at the last moment, pulling his slick drool coated black shaft out of her mouth, causing a wave of throat slop and some puke spill out of her mouth and onto the dirty public bathroom floor where they were apparently filming.

“Yessss!!!” she moaned with a hoarse voice as she fingered her pussy.

“Please, more. Don’t stop. Push me down on your dirty big nigger cock and hold me there. Let your scent and taste fill my head. Oh Allah!” she moaned as she came and squirted between her fingers.

As the big black man returned and resumed fucking her mouth. That’s when the audio cut off, and she realized that Dante had stopped it. Amena was too scared to look up at her therapist, so she stared at the floor. She was breathing heavily, she could feel her palms getting sweaty. She was nervous as hell, and she felt like an idiot. Why had she shown him that? Why had she revealed so much? Because he was black and he commanded her? No she had to get out of this office. This was too much for her.

“I..I can’t be that woman in the video…I can’t lose myself to Superior Black men and their cocks like that…I can’t be that horny and slutty…I just can’t,” Amena admitted as she felt her panties starting to get wet. She hated herself so much, she hated how turned on she was by all this. Therapy had been a very poor idea. Even as she said this her eyes couldn’t help but flicker to the now very obvious humongous bulge and outline in Dante’s pants.