“It’s just that before I started talking to you about my problems, I thought I was failing. I thought I was failing as a man, at least that’s what Stacey—”

I quickly interrupted him. I didn’t want to talk about her; I didn’t want to think about her. It was bad enough that I had to face her in their next joint session. This was my time with Patrick, and I didn’t want her in it.

“Patrick, you’re not failing at anything. You’re perfect just the way you are. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

As if I had awakened a sleeping beast inside of him, Patrick quickly pushed me down on the couch by my shoulders and climbed on top of me, hungrily kissing me and grinding his crotch into my leg. He forced his tongue into my mouth and moaned as our tongues danced and our bodies swayed from side to side. I spread my legs open, anxious to receive him in every possible way. He separated his mouth from mine and looked at me with longing and desire as he slowly unbuttoned my blouse, exposing the bra that he quickly pulled up above my tits. He began devouring one of my nipples hungrily while forcefully gripping the other in his tight, sweaty fist.

I held onto his head, taking a handful of his hair and pulling it a little as a natural response to his amazing assault on my nipples. When he sucked the first one sore, he moved on to the next. He wrapped his mouth around it, softly at first and then with forceful precision, sometimes letting his teeth drag on my protruding, circular skin. I arched my back and in response, he took even more of my breast in his mouth, inhaling me more and more by the second.

I watched my chest quickly rise and fall underneath his sweet face, admiring the care he took in pleasuring every inch of my tantalized tits. He was masterful, a maestro with his mouth, indulging me with his undivided attention, as if he lived for nothing else other than to please me, to make me come underneath him.