Part 0: Introduction. Will number subsequent chapters in title.

After struggling emotionally throughout my early 20s, my rollercoaster of a life experience slowed down when I landed myself in rehab at age 29. I ate there, I slept there, and I went to therapy.

The therapy was mostly group therapy with some one-on-one sessions available upon request.

Over the first six weeks of attending most of these daily group therapies, my therapist, the group leader, began to grow on me in a very sensual way.

At first, I thought she was just average but her loud voice I found annoying since I had been coming down off stimulants the whole first weeks of attending therapy.

As I healed from self-harming with drugs, she became a sort of beacon for me. Her name was Honesty.

She had long dark red hair that she matched with dark red lipstick, and she always wore these cute dresses with really pretty sandals. To me, she started to look like a piece of forbidden candy . . . I knew it would be so illegal to even start something, and I knew I would be turned down in any case for fear of her losing her job. With my emotional struggles I have mentioned, I can sometimes seem too overly attached to some person, or at other times very distanced and even mean while I'm dealing with some internal battle that most likely has little to do with the person affected.

What scared me was when I noticed her (Honesty) covered in a sad foggy mood like she had barely slept the past few nights, minus her lipstick, acting sad. I wondered what could be bothering her and fretted over what to do, all the worst scenarios and situations that could happen running through my mind while I sat there wondering what to do to help my friend while still within the bounds of a normal therapist-client relationship.

I popped in for a little one-on-one therapy the other day, dumping some of my gts, then later cleaned my room here, which had been a nuclear disaster zone for several weeks. Talking to her seemed to help. She took her glasses off halfway through talking as if to see me clearer or maybe her eyes got tired, but I realized that I love the shape of her face with or without glasses.

And I don't mean to be obsessive; it's just difficult when you are required to see someone five days out of the week. My group attendance rate had been spotty at best, partially because I could barely stand being taunted by the way she would bend her lips as she talked. I wondered whether my absence had hurt her feelings, but the main problem was that although I cared for her as a friend in that way, making sure her emotional needs had been met, I also just wanted to bend her over anywhere and fuck her brains out, going through all the fucked up, kinky shit in my very dark mind with me and her as sexual partners, having this whole recurring daydream of shared sensual pleasure.

I was so childish. I was thinking about just humping her butt til I came, which would definitely happen pretty fast. There were so many other things I thought of to do as well, but that was really when I started laughing at myself, like, really?

Was I having an episode? Was I slipping into total sexual psychosis (again)?

Was I going to be okay?

Or did I have a handle on this shit with this ho?

Thinking about how she holds my body while I suck her big titties and she calls me a "good girl".

Spanking her. Her spanking me. Her fucking me with a strapon. Me fucking her, how soft and pink her pussy would be on the inside, how after kissing and sucking down her sexy curvaceous body from her neck to shoulders, chest, belly, and thighs to her sweet coochie, holding her legs up out of the way as I did so, sucking her little clit, playing with her using my fingers . . .

I need sex therapy, I think.

I think I'm kind of probably broken in relationships until I do this for myself.

Sometimes, perhaps due to some past trauma, I tend to get overstimulated during sex and then act an age usually much younger than I am, though divulging this information I seldom do. I can usually play it off, but yes, it can easily definitely ruin relationships. Of course, as everyone does, I long for companionship, but having reached an impasse with the legal considerations this time in my selection of a potential mate along with the barrier of my own sexual issues and psychoses, I believe that working intensely on these barriers and disregarding internalized prejudgments to do so will help me move on finally as a person from that trauma and more easily recollect myself as an adult when stressed.

I want to call her, "Mommy", or maybe, "Mistress", and for her to call me, "good girl" when I act right and "bad girl" when I act naughty, especially when I do it on purpose to tease, because I really am usually very good, but I like to be punished very severely in the bedroom and bullied a little bit, definitely teased and played with by someone as sexy and as open as this woman. I just think it would be a really great time.

Deep breath.

Okay.

I'm just going to bottle that up and write some more erotic fiction about this because this is fun and not technically illegal.

Neither is some light flirting! I just love the way she carries herself. Her face is so pretty I want to sit on it and ride it, and her body is so gorgeous that I feel thirsty looking at her as if craving a juicy piece of fruit.