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ShareThe stillwidening investigation has been codenamed Holitna, after a river in Alaska with many tributaries.They are the worst of the worst, said Bruce Foucart, agent in charge of the U.S. Customs and Immigration Enforcement agencys Homeland Security Investigations unit in Boston. This isnt just a child thats nude and someones taking pictures of him this is a child thats being raped by an adult, which is horrific.Sharing: Robert Diduca, a Massachusetts father and Sheraton hotel manager, pleaded guilty to child porn and sexual exploitation after sending the photo of the boy with the rabbit to an undercover agentThe case began to unfold when Robert Diduca, a Sheraton hotel manager from Milford, Mass., sent the photo of the Dutch boy to an undercover federal agent in Boston.Diduca, a married father of three who used the screen name Babytodd, thought he was sending the picture to another man with a sexual interest in babies and toddlers.Agents forwarded the photo to Interpol, the international police organization, and to several other countries.An investigator for the Dutch police recognized the stuffed bunny as Miffy, a familiar character in a series of Dutch childrens books. She also traced the boys orange sweater to a small Amsterdam store that had sold only 20 others like it.The boys photo was broadcast on a national TV program similar to Americas Most Wanted. Within minutes, friends and relatives called the childs mother.Shared: A pornographic photo of the boy holding a stuffed Dutch rabbit named Miffy, a similar one shown here, led police to 140 more young victims abused with the boys photo passed aroundRobert Mikelsons, a 27yearold day care worker who babysat the boy, was arrested. On his computer were thousands and thousands of images of children being molested and raped, including the boy holding the stuffed bunny.Photos and online chats found on computers owned by Diduca and Mikelsons led to more than three dozen other suspects in seven countries, including Canada, Britain, Germany, Sweden and Mexico. The oldest victim in the Netherlands was 4, the youngest just 19 days old.Massachusetts U.S. Attorney Carmen Ortiz, whose office prosecuted Diduca, said the demand for photos of sexual assaults of young children, including babies and toddlers, has increased sharply in recent years.This demand leads to the abuse of children, yet there is this misconception that somehow, viewing child pornography is a victimless crime, said. It clearly is not.Diduca pleaded guilty to child porn and sexual exploitation charges and was sentenced to 18 years in prison. His lawyer, Richard Sweeney, said Diduca was sexually abused as a child by a Boy Scout leader. He gets it, he knows he needs to be punished, he knows what he did is wrong, Sweeney said.Mikelsons also received an 18year sentence, followed by indefinite psychiatric commitment, after confessing to sexually abusing more than 80 children.The horror did not let up after the Mikelsons case.In May, authorities arrested Michael Arnett of Roeland Park, Kan., after finding pornographic photos he allegedly produced. Agents discovered the pictures when they searched the computer of a Wisconsin man who had been chatting online with Mikelsons.What they found on Arnetts computer was unlike anything some of the investigators had ever come across: long, graphic, online chats about his desire to abduct, kill and eat children. They said he had also made photos of a naked 2yearold boy in a roasting pan inside his oven. The child and two other boys Arnett allegedly abused and photographed were later identified and found alive.Production: In May, authorities arrested Michael Arnett of Kansas after finding pornographic photos he allegedly produced and shared with, among many, a man named Ronald Brown in FloridaIn July, authorities arrested four men they say had online discussions with Arnett about kidnapping and eating children. Those arrested included Ronald Brown, a childrens puppeteer from Largo, Fla. (A YouTube video shows Brown during an appearance on a Christian TV kids show in the 1980s. In the video, he tells a child puppet that he did the right thing by refusing to look at dirty pictures some other youngsters tried to show him.)In excerpts of an online chat between Arnett and Brown from 2011, the two men appear to be discussing their desire to cook a child for Easter.he would make a fine Easter feast, Arnett says.yes, his thighs and butt cheeks would be fantastic for Easter, Brown responds.A lawyer for Arnett would not comment on the allegations. Browns lawyer did not return calls.Prosecutors said Brown acknowledged his online conversations but said that it was all a fantasy and that he would never hurt anyone.Scare: Ronald Brown, a childrens puppeteer in Florida, was arrested after his connection and discussions with Arnett about kidnapping and eating childrenObviously the discussions regarding their claims of cannibalism are disturbing and a concern to our agency, said ICE spokesman Ross Feinstein. He said agents are following all leads to make sure these individuals didnt follow through on any of their claims.To find the young victims, investigators carefully studied thousands of photos, read hours of Internet chats and worked with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. They also employed some forensic wizardry.After finding a video on Diducas computer of a bound, 2yearold boy being raped, investigators enhanced the images of furniture and carpet and determined the attack took place in a motel room in Bakersfield, Calif.Then they pinpointed the date by way of a TV that was playing in the background in the video, figuring out exactly when a particular episode of Family Matters aired along with a certain Pepperidge Farms commercial.A man from Black Forest, Colo., was arrested and is awaiting trial.Similarly, in the Arnett case, investigators discovered that a water bottle in one of the photographs carried the name of a swim and scuba center in Overland Park, Kan. With the help of teachers at an elementary school, they identified three children shown in the photographs, including the toddler posed in the roasting pan.The mother of one of the boys said she initially did not believe the allegations against Arnett, a family friend for about 15 years. She said her son, now 7, and several nephews often spent weekends at Arnetts home four or five years ago.Well, when we first got the phone call, we thought theres no way. You guys got the wrong guy, she said. The Associated Press does not identify victims of sexual abuse or their families.But then investigators showed her photos Arnett had allegedly taken of her son with a shirt and no pants.Regret? For sending my son with a sickminded guy, thats the only regret I have. I had no idea, she said. Its depressing.For the agents working on the case, the leads never seem to end.Last week, they arrested another Massachusetts man after finding child pornography and photos of what appeared to be dead children on his computer. He allegedly had online chats with Arnett and Brown.More arrests are expected.The agents that work for me are extremely driven on this type of investigation, said Bart Cahill, assistant agent in charge of Homeland Security Investigations in Boston. They really believe that they are taking out horrific violators and saving kids.Share or comment on this article

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Share this articleShareThe kitchen was distempered green and was small for a family of eight. A row of brass clothes hooks took up one wall and these must have been of colossal strength to endure the weight of coats that bulged into the room. Heaped below was a graveyard of footwear enormous quantities of plimsolls, wellingtons, nailed boots, football boots, low shoes, court shoes and sandals.Class act: Pam Ayres in a school photograph in the early FiftiesOn the opposite side was a kitchen range with a fireplace and oven which, as we had an electric cooker, was seldom used. Below the window was a large Belfasttype sink with a soft, rotting wooden draining board.At this sink, everyone washed and performed their daily ablutions. Ranged along the windowsill was evidence of this in numerous round tins of pink Gibbs toothpaste, ancient shattered toothbrushes, razors, shaving soap, bald shaving brushes and pots of Brylcreem. There were bottles of bay rum, worldweary grey face flannels and a great pink brick of Lifebuoy soap.On the floor was an item to be seen everywhere at that time, the rag rug. Crafted from cutup old clothes and a length of sacking, they were capable of attracting monumental quantities of dust. Mum hated the rugs they were so gloomylooking, the flooring of the poor.Opposite the window stood a kitchen table. Here, every day, Mum worked on a variety of household chores.She rolled out great grey boulders of pastry, stirred up gargantuan oneegg currant cakes, bottled fruit in Kilner jars and sealed down innumerable pots of homemade jam as dark protective jewels for winter.She never stopped working and I am sorry to say I took her entirely for granted. Every day I watched her back out of the stiflingly hot cupboard where she fried, roasted, baked and boiled on our bandylegged electric cooker.She would be redfaced and drenched in sweat, her dark hair tied up in a scarf because she hated it to smell of fat. I watched her work year in, year out, and it never once occurred to me that she might have wanted some other life, some tiny bit of freedom.At mealtimes, our family devoured mountains of vegetables and limited meat, which in reality was a perfect diet. Dad grew brassicas in the garden. He also kept guns in an understairs cupboard. My impression was that some were legally held and some were not. At any rate, he used them to poach pheasants. We ate a lot of pheasant but were always told to say wed had pigeon.Fish was abundant and dirt cheap. It could also be caught. All along the eastern edge of Stanford flows the modest River Ock: a startling variety of edible creatures could be extracted from it by skill or treachery.Small rainbow trout were one, along with redfinned roach and slim silver dace. Eels could be caught on the rare moonlit nights when they were mysteriously on the move, but most fascinating of all were the teeming crayfish.Country life: Pam Ayres in her garden, proudly showing off her brothers freshly caught troutMy brothers would craft a ramshackle trap from a bicycle wheel underslung by netting. Attached to a long pole by ropes, the trap would be lowered into the unpromisinglooking water, having first been baited with a tangle of rabbit guts wired to the hub.The water closed over the trap and a shortish wait ensued before it was hauled out again. An astonishing change had taken place. Now it was heaped with olivegreen, whiskery crayfish, their shells clattering together as they grappled over each other to reach the rabbit intestines.Streaming clusters of the creatures dangled from the wheel, flapping their tails as they were lifted up out of the water, shaken into a hessian sack and borne back home to a gruesome fate. There the smaller of the tin baths was taken down, filled with water and placed over a bonfire to heat up.Mummys girls: Pam Ayres (left) with her Mother (center) and sister Jean (right)Like countless girls of nine or ten I had become pony mad. One day I made the mistake of asking Mum if I could have a pony. I shall never forget her reaction. What? she gasped, incredulously.It was not only to do with money, it was to do with class. An expression I heard a lot from Dad was out of place. Dad used to say you couldnt do this or that because you would look out of place and be a laughing stock. There were mystifying unwritten boundaries that governed what was acceptable and proper.I could see that my family and our neighbours went to our sort of school, yet the other village children went to the grammar school, The Elms at Faringdon, and this set them apart. The girls wore grey felt hats and gymslips we wore what we liked.Decades later I interviewed my former head teacher, Mrs Perkins, for Radio 4 and she said of the village: It was feudal, it was so feudal.Some children, the offspring of the top tier of Stanford society, disappeared from the village altogether, to reappear hugely grown at summer and Christmas. I knew one such boy called Robert he was the son of Brigadier Kellie, whose land adjoined the Campdene gardens, where we lived.Robert and I were playing one summers day when his father appeared and ordered his son indoors. He pointed his stick at me and said: Go away, in such a cold voice that I felt like vermin. Clearly I was out of place.Decades later I interviewed my former head teacher, Mrs Perkins, for Radio 4 and she said of the village: It was feudal, it was so feudal.My relationship with Dad, already aggravated by his iron rule, was increasingly strained. I was 17, smoked heavily, never had any money and was brassed off.Things came to a head when I started to go around with an older man from Wantage. Quite late one night we were in his car saying a tender goodnight while parked outside our house. Suddenly I heard the window of Mum and Dads bedroom clang open with such force that it hit the wall.Pam? bellowed Father from across the road. Pam, is that you?I wound down the window. Yes, I said, sullenly.Well, bloody well come on in then! bawled Dad, nearly falling out of the window. His great voice reverberated back and forth across the dark street. Neighbours listened agog behind their closed curtains. So much for me being sophisticated I was being shouted at like a dog.At that time, I saw a magazine advertisement for the Womens Royal Air Force (WRAF). There was a happylooking girl dressed in a smart uniform, smiling against an enticing background of goodlooking pilots and aircraft pointing dramatically to the skies.Opportunity knocks: Pam Ayres being presented with a ribboned blank at RAF BramptonI looked at the advertisement for a long time. I supposed I could do worse. Three of my brothers had gone to do their National Service and come home looking substantially more attractive in immaculate uniforms and bearing thrilling gifts and treasures from fardistant places. They had travelled widely and it hadnt cost them a penny.I decided to take my investigations further, and caught the train to the recruiting office in Reading. There I was interviewed by a broad man named Sergeant Cooper.He sang the praises of the WRAF and thought I would do very well. Would I like to take the entrance test while I was there? It was a multiplechoice paper. The only people in the room were Sgt Cooper and myself. If he noticed me struggling, he would wander past and generously wave a stubby finger over the right box.Unsurprisingly, I achieved a good mark for which he congratulated me.It was a sensational time and place to be young. We had all we could wish for: a pampered and protected existence, sunshine, young men for company and an endless succession of interesting things to do.I told Mum about it. She said: You give it a go if you want to youre free as a bird!Dad was aghast. His doomladen pronouncement still echoes across half a lifetime: You be throwing away the best years of yer life!I didnt feel Dad was qualified to criticise my decision. Hadnt he fibbed about his age to join the Grenadier Guards? (He was evacuated from Dunkirk and later fought in Belgium, France and Germany.) Anyway, and more to the point, they didnt feel like the best years of my life. My job I worked as a clerical assistant at the Central Ordnance Depot in Bicester was excruciatingly boring.So in 1965, at the minimum age of 18, I arrived at RAF Brampton in Huntingdonshire, the start of my career with the WRAF.Soon I was flying off to Singapore International Airport, on a twoyear posting to the Far East. It is hard to overstate how distant Singapore seemed to most people at that time. Other than by means of the Armed Forces, ordinary people did not travel abroad. It was the ultimate reward, a chance to see what so few would ever see.It was a sensational time and place to be young. We had all we could wish for: a pampered and protected existence, sunshine, young men for company and an endless succession of interesting things to do.I remember dancing on the beach with my friends, the moon shining a bright path across the darkness of the sea, and feeling so full of happiness I could have burst with joy.Performing: Pam Ayres playing guitar at Changi Folk ClubI thought about the boring evenings I had spent in the chilly pubs in Stanford on winter nights. The craving I had felt there for excitement and variety, when after some dull darts match and a buckshee cheese and pickle sandwich, I had asked myself the question over and over: Is this it? Is this all there is?I did one awful thing in Singapore, which I have always felt ashamed of. At home in Stanford, once all the family were out at work, Mum got herself a job as a cleaner and kitchenhelper at nearby Buckland House, a beautiful Georgian stately home in 150 acres, which was run as a hall for one of the universities. The place was brimful of students, and teams of women from surrounding villages went by minibus to cook and clean for them.Mum found it exhausting. After the meal had been served in the refectory, there was only limited time for the women to clear up, wash up and pile out of the door.Dad took a dim view of her working. It was too much for her he said, but Mum was resolute.I gets a bit of money of me own, she would announce firmly, in a way that was nonnegotiable.For her it was a longedfor transition to a dignified state, that of earning her own money after decades of dependence on her husband.It was customary for British ships docking in Singapore to hold a dinner on board and invite the WRAF girls as guests all was very seemly and polite. A Merchant Navy ship called and an invitation appeared on our noticeboard inviting us to attend.I had never visited a ship before, let alone dined on one, so a few of my friends and I accepted and transport was duly arranged to the quayside. I wore my new dress and went to stupendous lengths to look smart and attractive.Big break: Pam Ayres on Opportunity Knocks in 1975Once on board I began to wonder if I had made a mistake. The dinner in the officers mess was dauntingly smart, the table laid with beautiful crystal and silverware. It was not what I was used to.I became nervous because I had wanted to make a good impression, but now felt in danger of being laughed at as the girl who didnt know which knife and fork to use.In our family we always said Please and Thank you, we knew not to grab or lunge for things, we didnt talk with our mouths full and those of us who wore glasses never polished them on the curtains. However, Mums tutoring did not extend to cover a posh dinner such as this with whitejacketed stewards!I was seated next to an amiable young man, handsome and striking in his dark uniform. He was easy to talk with and I began to relax. He asked me about myself, about where I came from. Stanford in the Vale, I told him brightly.Fancy that! says he. I was at university near there.Really? I said with interest, my silver fork paused in midair.Yes, in a place called Buckland, he went on pleasantly. At this point, his expression clouded with perplexity and thoughtfulness as small, remembered fragments began to come together. His face clearing, he asked excitedly: What did you say your surname was again?I could see the way this was going and didnt like it. Ayres, I mumbled as incoherently as possible.Ayres? he almost shouted in disbelief. Did you say your name was Ayres? I put down the silver fork and waited as if for a blow. Didnt your mother use to be a cleaner? he asked. No, I said. No, that wasnt my mother. Its a very common name. It must have been someone else.Ayres? he almost shouted in disbelief. Did you say your name was Ayres? I put down the silver fork and waited as if for a blow. Didnt your mother use to be a cleaner? he asked.I looked down at my new dress and around me at the table with waiters and stewards, the soft lights and twinkling crystal. I thought that admitting Mum was a humble cleaner would make me seem out of place, someone unworthy of being in such lovely surroundings. I did not realise that the truth was the exact opposite.No, I said. No, that wasnt my mother. Its a very common name. It must have been someone else.Somewhere far away, far from Tengah and the sea, and the little waves that lapped the bows of the ship, out along the Bukit Timah Road towards Serangoon, an old cockerel stirred, stood up on his perch and crowed before settling back to sleep. He crowed once, twice, three times.I should have said proudly: Yeah, she was a cleaner. She was a cleaner because she wanted the independence of earning her own money.And when she had earned it and saved it, when the work was too hard and she couldnt keep it up, do you know what she did with it? She went to Courts in Swindon and bought us a new, threepiece suite so her family would have somewhere new and presentable to sit. She was a cleaner, she was grateful for the chance to be a cleaner and she was worth ten of me.Thats what I should have said.Folk clubs became popular in the Seventies and spread like a rash all over the country. All they required was a onceweekly meeting room, a few floor singers capable of doing a short set each and the potential to take enough money on the door to occasionally pay one of the guest performers who made a living by touring the circuit.Now that my stint with the WRAF was at an end, I was back home working as a typist. I wanted to be an entertainer but had no clue how to penetrate the business.The folk clubs were magic to me. They were my training ground, providing a supportive, easygoing audience willing to listen and quick to applaud.Happy: Pam Ayres outside her home in OxfordshireI discovered that my local folk club was held in The Bell Inn, a thatched pub near the village pond in Ducklington, a few miles from Witney, Oxfordshire. Soon it became the undoubted high spot of my week.One night I stood up with my guitar and sang a terrified, croaking version of The Raggle Taggle Gypsies O. Everybody joined in and the following Monday I was asked to sing again. That was how it began.The change came when I decided to lighten the mix somewhat and insert one of my jokey poems. I dont remember if it was I Wish Id Looked After Me Teeth or The Battery Hen, but the reaction was highly exciting: people laughed and some asked where they could get a copy!I developed an act and started to write every evening. I hurried home from work, ate a crummy tea, gathered my pad and pen and entrapped myself in my writing seat, comprising the brown fake leather armchair with an ironing board placed across the arms. This formed a usefully wide writing surface and I happily worked at my ironingboard desk every night.One night I was approached by a booker. He wanted me as a guest performer at his club near Banbury, what would my fee be? I looked at him as if poleaxed. I was terrified but knew that if I was serious, I had to do it. I charged 12 and accepted the job.Proud: Pam Ayres collecting her MBE to services to literature in 2004My poems and verses, which I wrote purely for the fun of it, brought me more money in royalties than I had ever dreamed of.This enabled me to do lovely things, not only for myself, but also to help my family and friends with a new car, a garden shed, the final payment of a mortgage.I knew that much of my parents life had been a long, hard struggle and that cash had been desperately short.At last, I could do something significant for them, something that had always been so out of the question it hadnt even been discussed.I helped them to buy our council house at 16 Vandiemans, where we had lived since 1961.Some time afterwards, I was over there on a visit and Dad said: You come just right. Me and Mother always sits here by the window on a Thursday morning.Why? I asked. His blue eyes were alight with mischief:Why? he repeated with mock surprise. Well, so we can watch the rent man walk straight past the gate!Pam Ayres 2011. Pam Ayres: The Necessary Aptitude is published by Ebury, priced 19.99. To order your copy at the special price of 17 with free pp, please call the Review Bookstore on 0843 382 1111 or visit www.MailLife.co.ukBooks.Share or comment on this article

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Ravi helped by Mom in sex during studiesPosted on July 4, 2014 12:00 PM, Filed under IncestHi everybody, I am Ravi married male 32 yrs working currently in a pharma company in Mumbai. I was born and brought up in Mumbai. I want to share my first personnel sexual experience with all the HumanDigest readers.This incident happen when I was in XII standard preparing for my preliminary examination in the month of Feb. As the state board examination was very close, I was little nervous, as I was not interested in science stream, my dad had force fully got the admission in science, which I did not all like.As I was preparing for the preliminary exams, I used to study at night. Our house is 2 bedroom house, my parents (mom and dad) used to sleep in bed room and I used to study in the drawing room. I had a habit of reading porn book which I used to buy from the local book stores on the footpath. I would read this porn book in the toilet and while seeing the open naked pictures I used to masturbate in the toilet.But as I was preparing for my exams, I had to read these porn books in between the studies. I used to lock the room from inside and become naked and read those books. The same routine continued for 1015 days. One day we received a phone call from my native place that my grandmother (fathers mom) was very serious, hearing this dad had to go to attend her.As my exams was near my mom did not go and stayed with me. On that very night, as usual, after dinner I went to the drawing room for studying and locked the door and started studying. After 15 minutes my mom knocked the door and said, Ravi, open the door. I was completely naked and after hearing my moms voices I stood up wore my shorts and ran towards the door to open the door.Mom said, Ravi as your dad is not there, you can study in my bed room. I cant sleep since I do not have the habit of sleeping alone. I had no other option but to comply so I gathered all the study books along with the porn books and went the bed rooms. I was very sad that I could not read my porn books that night due to moms presence but did not know that my fate was going to change forever due to moms request.My mom finished all the kitchen work and came to the bed room wiping her wet hands with her pallu. I want to describe my mom, she was 38 at that time good looking, fair, slim, with good circular boobs, her boobs was not that loose unlike other even though she did not wear bra. She always wore sari as a traditional south Indian women.After doing all her works she came near the bed and said, Ravi you can study here. As I am alone I am not able to sleep. I said Its ok mom, you can sleep here and I will study for the exams. But I will keep the lights on for me. The light in the room were on and I was reading for my exam. As the light were on, mom was not able to sleep properly.She was some time sleeping facing this side and some time facing that side. As she was facing this side and that side her saree pallu was disturbed and her both boobs curve were clearly visible in the blouse. Seeing this, my heart beating rate got double and tool inside pant started rising. Then after 15 minutes she slept calmly as if she was in deep sleep.Then I kept the book for the examination and took out porn book and started reading it. In between I saw the big boobs of my mom and started reading the story. I slipped hand into my pant and started playing with my tool. During night time I never wear undies, due to this the bulge was clearly visible from the top of the pant.Reading the porn story and looking at my moms boobs I became so desperate that I wanted to grab the two melons and suck it, but I didnt have the guts to do that. Then I started reading the story again, the story was so nice and interesting that I got very much involved in the story and I failed to notice mom who had by that time woken up and was watching me intently.With one hand holding the books I was shagging my cock inside the pant. I came to the climax of the story I didnt know when my tool came out of the pant. Before I could ejaculate I opened my eyes. I got shocked to see my mom sitting next to me and watching what I was doing. I was totally shocked as if my heart beat stopped. I was in a loss to react.The porn story book dropped from my hand on the bed. My other hand was still on my tool which was partly roaming outside. My mom looked at my eyes but said nothing. She picked up the book and read if for 2 minutes. The books also contained some naked photos of malefemale in different sex poses. She saw those photos very closely by turning page by page.Her expressions changed from serious to stern. Then she kept the book on the bed and went to the wash room. I was totally shocked due to this incident. I immediately cleared all the books for exam and also the story book and kept them a side and switched off the tube light and switched on the night lamp. I slept on the bed with blanket covering from head to toe.After 10 minute my mom came to the bed room and said, Ravi, are you asleep. Then she switched on the tube light and lifted the blanket over my head and said Ravi reply, are you sleeping. I didnt have the guts to look at her face. Then she said, Look Ravi this is very common at your age, I have also gone through your age, it is very common dont get upset.See I will explain you all thing. Then I opened my eye and looked at her. She was standing very close to me and said, See, Ravi I am your mom I know what you want at this age. I have also gone through this age way back. It is common dont worry. Her eyes were searching something in me. My body was shivering like a leaf. I dared not look into her eyes.She sat near me and put her right hand on my shoulder and said Dont worry I will tell you how to over come this age. Where are those books. I reacted as if nothing happen replied, What book. She said, That porn book. Then I said, That it is there. I pointed to the drawer where I kept the porn book.She brought the book, sat next to me and opened the centre page. She started seeing the naked photos of the male and female. She said, All these photos are fake, they are photocamera trick and catching this photos. In real world no man will have tool this big and no female will have the boobs as big as this girl in the picture have. Dont get disturbed seeing this kind fake photos.Hence forth dont read such kind of book, which would create bad image in your mind and will tell false things about sex. If you want to ask any thing I will teach you and I will solve your query about sex. So concentrate in study and get good marks in the exams, ok. Then I waved my head, Ok mom. Then she switched off the light and came next to me and slept.I was not able to sleep properly due to her talk. Her talks were disturbing me. Then I thought to go to the wash room and masturbate and release the tension. After half an hour I went to the wash room which was next to the bed room, I was casual as mom was in deep sleep and opened my pant took my tool out, with out locking the door properly.Imagining the story that I read from the book I started jerking my tool vigorously closing my eyes. Within 5 minutes I was reaching climax to pour out my load of sperms, within no time I came with the load of sperms. When slowly I open my eyes, I was shocked to find my mom standing in front of the door. Watching all act coolly.She was again shocked with this incident, without saying any words she again went to the bed room. I washed my tool and slowly went to bed room with out making any noise. I peeped into the bed room and found mom sleeping. Then I entered the bed room and went to sleep next to mom. I was unable to sleep due to these 2 incidents.After 5 minute I heard my mom calling my name, Ravi, are you finished dear. I was shocked to hear this and I was speech less. Mom turned towards me and said, Ravi, what were you doing in the wash room dear. I could not say any thing. Mom again said, Ravi what you were doing in the wash room was bad habit dear you should have not done that.Who has taught you these things? I mumbled, My friend Ritesh has taught me to do this. Mom smiled mischievously, Hence forth dont do this, it will affect your health adversely. If you want any thing, then you tell me or ask me. I will help, dont ask your stupid friends, who will teach you this false thing.Then mom came near to me and said, You have grown up enough to teach all things. Come here I will take you the world of sex Saying this mom lifted the blanket over me, and came very close to me and said in a whispering tone, Son I have seen your penis. It is very big and thick. It is long enough to satisfy any woman.She kept her right hand over my penis above the pant and at started caressing it. She asked me in a sexy tone, Have you seen any women or girl naked. I shook my head and said, No, but sure will love to see. Then she brought her face closer to my face, I could feel her heart beats. Our breathing got heavier and clashed with each other. Her breathing was warmer then me.She said, Today is your lucky day, you will see your mom naked, Hearing this I became very happy inside but did not show on my face. Then she kissed on my forehead and started removing my dress. I had not shown any reaction till then. Then she opened my pants and started sliding it down wards.Within no time I was naked as the day I was born. Due to her caressing my cock was proudly sticking upward. She brought her face towards my cock, she was very close to my cock, and her warm breath was touching my cock, which made me move my cock up and down. She said, Ravi your cock is very nice and big yaar, it is even bigger than your dad.Hearing this I was flying in the heaven. Do you know all men will like the praise of their cock from any woman. Mom started licking my cock I was helpless lying on the bed. Mom was rotating her tongue over my cock. Moving back the foreskin and also playing with my balls. Even though I have masturbated 15 minute ago my cock was rock hard facing the sky.Mom was in full flow licking my cock and drinking all my precum without wasting any drop of it. Then mom stopped sucking and looked at me and smiled. I also smiled at her without saying anything. Mom said, Son you are really grown up. Your cock taste even better than your dads cock. I asked mom, How long is dads cock.Mom said, It is small about 2 inch smaller than yours. My smile becomes even wider. Then mom came towards my face and kissed me on my forehead again and then kissed on my lips within no time my lips locked in moms mouth. Both of our tongue started fighting with each other. Then mom lied on the bed taking me over her.Our kissing continued mom was below me and in was above her. Them mom slowly removed my face way and said, Son undress me quickly. My hands were trembling due to excitement and fear. Sensing my position she took my hand and kept on the blouse hook and said, Open it. I obeyed as mom said and unhooked her blouse, then 4 hook of her blouse were freed.On that particular day she was not wearing the bra. Her big melon were free and inviting me to eat them. I slowly touched the boobs and encircled the melons slowly I touched the nipple of the right breast and squeeze between the thumb and index finger. Similarly I did with the left boobs. Then I grabbed both the boobs with both hand and started squeezing it.Mom started making sweet noise, the noise made me hornier and I started squeezing more hardly. I bent down further and touched the nipple with tongue tip. An electric current ran through my body. Mom said, What happened. I said, Nothing. This is my first time mom. Mom said, Relax, take your time, do it slowly son. I will teach you how to make woman enjoy sex with your cock.I will make you master in this act. When your wife comes she will be enjoying every bit of it. Her breasts were bigger than I had thought and they drooped a bit. Her nipples are almost black in color. I went to her and cupped her breasts and then kneaded the nipples. All the while my mother was moaning and taking my name and calling me her husband.It was a great feeling for me to be called by my mother as her husband. I started sucking the nipple like a child who drinks milk from his mom. I was sucking one nipple and pressing and squeezing the other one. After 10 minute I slowly came down to the tummy and kissed it. Then I didnt know what to do? Mom lifted her face and saw my blank face, said, What happened Ravi.I said Nothing mom, I dont know what to do further? Although I had read in books about sex but I wanted mom to take the lead. Mom said, Ravi, open the petticoat and make me naked. Then I will show what to do? I obeyed mom and opened the knot of the petticoat and removed it down ward. Mom gracefully lifted her buttocks to facilitate my move. Mom was not wearing the panty also.The hairy pussy was visible I really froze seeing at it. This was the first time I was seeing a pussy live. I had seen it only in porn books. Her pussy was much lovelier than those in books. There sitting before me was the hole from where I was born. The hole my dad had fucked since long. Then mom understood that I had become nervous, she sat on the bed and told me to lie down.I lay on the bed, mom freed the remaining dress and became complete naked and stood on the bed with pussy facing my side. She lifted her body and placed her ass on my chest. Then she widened her legs so that her one leg was on my left side and other on my right side. Her pussy was positioned exactly over my face.She sat on my face and told me to lick her pussy. Dear friends I am really telling what a scene it was as I dont have the words to explain. I licked the hairy pussy. Her pussy smelled of urine. The smell was intoxicating for me. I wanted to get inside it. Some white liquid was oozing out. It was shivering as if asking me to enter in.I think she had not shaved for last 34 months. I opened my mouth and started licking the pussy. After some time some juice started flowing from her pussy. The smell of the love juice was making me horny I started drinking all the juice flowing from the cunt. I could stay all night drinking the love juice from my moms cunt.I slowly raised my both hand to support my mom hips. She was moving forward and backward as if she was fucking with my tongue. Then I raised hand still further and grabbed her both melons and started squeezing it and mean time I was sucking and licking her cunt. The big mirror in bed room showed the full image of us.Them after 15 minutes of licking she stood up went little back and set in the position that my tool could easily enter her pussy. She took some saliva from her mouth and applied on the cock, her pussy was wet enough as I was licking for more than 15 minute. She positioned her pussy over my erect cock and lowered her cunt on my cock.And she sat slowly on my cock and guided my cock towards her hole it slowly entered the pussy. Her pussy was very tight. She kept both her hands on my chest and started slowly pumping on my cock, as she did this I was flying in heaven with pleasure. She also enjoyed every bit of it. I took my hand and kept on her boobs and stated squeezing it and also pressing.She was making some kind of sweet sexy noises ha.. ha.. iss iss iss. As I had already masturbated in the wash room my cock was rock hard. After 10 minutes of pumping she said, Ravi you come up I will lie down as I am tired. She got down and we changed our position. She lay on the bed and I came over her.I positioned myself between her thighs and went down on her. She took my cock and guided in to her pussy. First attempt it missed and burrowed between her hairy thighs. She sighed and then took my cock in her hands and positioned it to her cuntal entrance. I could not wait any longer I pushed completely and I went in about half.Mother was screaming Slowly, it is many days since your father fucked me, go slow, I need to become wet. Spit in my cunt and then you can fuck. I pulled out and then bent down and collected a lot of saliva in mouth and as she spread her legs I spat into her cunt. Then I went down on her again and this I was able to position myself on my own and pushed.As I entered her I felt like my cock was on fire. 23 times my cock came out of her pussy. Mothers cunt muscles were grinding against my cock and all the while mom was feeling the pain. She was weeping with pain but when I asked her if I should stop, she said NO this is heavenly pain. My body will accept you as my lover I have in my heart accepted you.I felt for her love and just hung there. She suddenly gathered up all her strength and pushed up her hips. Now I sank in completely up to my balls. She urged me to fuck her by moving back and forth. I could not hold any longer and I started fucking her taking long and slow strokes. I slowly started pumping my hip as this was my first real pussy show.She was all the while moaning and I suddenly realised that she was no longer in pain. I started fucking her faster. I didnt know suddenly I started blabbering My dear mother, my love, I want to make you pregnant. I want to have a girl from you. I want to make you my wife. Mother started moaning I am all yours my son, take me and fuck me, I am not having any protection.We will think of that later but now I am all yours to fuck me. I will sure give you a baby but not now. Then I gained confidence I increased my speed, she was enjoying every bit of it. She was saying, Come on son thats good, fuck me tear my pussy. I like you speed son come on. Hearing these encouraging words I increased my speed which by then had become almost double to my earlier speed. I kept on pumping my moms pussy.Then after 5 minute mom said Son, your mom is reaching the climax come on increase you speed. Then I started fucking harder. And the harder I fucked more the juice started coming out from the cunt and the entire bedroom was echoeing with fucking noise. Mom reached her climax and I was also nearing to explode my load of sperm. Mom said, Son I want to drink you cum, if you are to cum, come in my mouth.I removed the tool from the pussy and came near to her face and guided my cock in to her mouth, she sucked it and started shaking it front and back vigorously within no time I exploded in to her mouth. She drank all my cum not wasting a single drop of it. Then I lay aside of her. She came near me and hugged me and said, Son you are very strong, you can satisfy any women as you have more stamina than your dad.She kissed me on my forehead and went to wash room with out wearing any cloth. I also cleaned my tool and slept on the bed naked. After 5 minute she came to the bed room properly arranged the bed sheet and slept next to me with out wearing any cloth. I hugged her and slept.As next day was holiday we both got up at 11.00 am in the morning. We both entered the bath room and had bath together. I fucked her 3 more times that day and had more fucking session on standing position in doggie style.After that every day we had fucking session in different style till my dad arrived from the native place. She had mastered me in the fucking art. If you like the story, post your comments below.

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WhatsappMy analyst and I grew more intimately connected each week of treatment...but I never saw this indecent proposal coming.Its the waning moments of my fourth session with a new therapist. Im holding back and she knows it. My entire body feels tense, not ideal for the setting. I try to relax, but the plush leather couch crumples under me when I shift, making the movements extraordinary. Ive barely looked into my therapists blue eyes at all, and yet I think the hour has gone very well. Of course it has. On the surface, when the patient has been highly selective of the discussion topics, therapy always resembles a friendly gettogether.Well, my therapist, Lori, says, the millisecond after I become certain our time is up and I might be in the clear. I dont think I should let you go until weve at least touched on what was put out there at the end of last weeks session.I so supremely wanted this not to come up. My eyelids tighten, my mouth puckers to the left, and my head tilts, as though Im asking her to clarify.When you said youre attracted to me, she continues.Oh, yeah, I say. That.Back in session three Lori was trying to build my selfesteem, the lack of which is one of the reasons Im in treatment. Within the confines of my family, Ive always been the biggest target of ridicule. We all throw verbal darts around as though were engaged in a massive, drunken tournament at a bar, but the most poisonous ones seem to hit me the most often, admittedly somewhat a consequence of my own sensitivity. Ive been told it was historically all part of an effort to toughen me up, but instead I was filled with towering doubts about my own worth. And since 2012, when I gave up a stable, tenured teaching career for the wildly inconsistent life of a freelance writer, Ive had great difficulty trusting my own instincts and capabilities. I told Lori that I wish I was better at dealing with lifes daily struggles instead of constantly wondering if Ill be able to wade through the thick.She quickly and convincingly pointed out that I work rather hard and am, ultimately, paying my bills on time, that I have friends, an appreciation for arts and culture, and so on. In short, I am, in fact, strong, responsible and pretty good at life.Then Lori heightened the discussion a bit. I also feel that it is your sensitivity that makes you a great catch out there in the dating world, she said, to which I involuntarily smiled, blushed and quickly buried my chin in my chest. I was too insecure and too single to handle such a compliment from a beautiful woman.Why are you reacting that way? Lori asked.I shrugged my shoulders, only half looking up.Is it because youre attracted to me?I laughed a little, uncomfortably. How did you know?She gently explained she could tell the day I walked into her office for the first time, after I flashed a bright smile and casually asked where she was from.Now, a week after dropping that bomb, Lori asks, So, why havent we talked about it?I was hoping to avoid it, I suppose. I tell her the whole notion of having the hots for a therapist is such a sizable clich that I was embarrassed to admit it. For Christs sake, I say, throwing my hands up, Tony Soprano even fell in love with his therapist.Lori snorts, rolls her eyes. I knew you were going to say that.I smile, shake my head and look around the room, denying acceptance of my own ridiculous reality.Its OK, Lori says, grinning. We can talk about this in here.I look again at her stark blue eyes, prevalent under dark brown bangs, the rest of her hair reaching the top of her chest, which is hugged nicely by a fitted white tee under an open buttondown. She jogs often, Id come to find out, which explains her petite figure and ability to probably pull off just about any outfit of her choosing.I still cant speak, so she takes over.Do you think youre the first client thats been attracted to their therapist? she asks rhetorically. Ive had other clients openly discuss their feelings, even their sexual fantasies involving me.What? I cackle, beginning to feel as though Ive moseyed onto the set of a porno.Its true, she says, acknowledging her desk. Whats yours? Do you bend me over and take me from behind?Nailed it.If thats what youre thinking, its OK, she goes on, earnestly, explaining that shes discussed sexual scenarios with her clients before so as to normalize the behavior and not have them feel their own thoughts are unnatural. By showing the patient a level of acceptance, she hopes to facilitate a more comfortable atmosphere for the work her painfully accurate pseudonym for psychotherapy.I take a second to let the red flow out of my face, and ponder what she said. Im a little unsure about this whole technique, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. So I go home, incredibly turned on and completely unashamed. One of the great breakthroughs Ive had in the thirteen months since I began seeing Lori (who agreed to participate in this article, but requested that her full name not be published) is a new ability to accept the existence of dualities in life. For instance, Ive always had a tremendous sense of pride that, if it doesnt straddle the line of arrogance, certainly dives into that hemisphere from time to time. Im great at seeing flaws in others and propping myself up above them by smugly observing my character strengths. Ive never liked that about myself, but the harder concept to grasp is the fact that I can be so egotistical while also stricken with such vast quantities of insecurity.In treatment I came to realize that all people have contradictions to their personalities. Theres the insanely smart guy who cant remotely begin to navigate a common social situation, the charitable girl who devotes all her time to helping strangers, but wont confront issues in her own personal relationships. In my case, my extreme sensitivity can make me feel fabulous about the aspects of myself that I somehow know are good (my artistic tastes) and cause deep hatred of those traits I happen to loathe (the thirty pounds I could stand to lose).My next session with Lori is productive. We speak about relationships Ive formed with friends and lovers, and how my family may have informed those interactions. One constant is that I put crudely high expectations on others, mirroring those thrown upon me as a kid. Im angered when people dont meet those expectations, and absolutely devastated when I dont reach them. Lori points out that it must be exhausting trying to be so perfect all the time. I am much more comfortable than I was the week prior, and can feel myself being more candid. Im relieved that the whole beingattractedtomytherapist thing doesnt come up.Then, a week later, Lori mentions it, and I become tense again.I thought Id be able to move past it, I say, adding, We aired it out, and its fine.As definitive as Im trying to sound, Lori is just as defiant.Im glad you feel that way, she begins, but I think you owe yourself some kudos. This kind of therapy, she shares, isnt something just anyone can take on. Such honest discussion doesnt simply happen, it takes tremendous guts, and Lori can see that I am dealing with it relatively well, so I should praise my own efforts.Shit, we both should be proud of ourselves, she says. Its not easy on the therapist either, you know.Why not?Because talking openly about sex is risky at any time, much less with a client. She explains that therapists are warned any semblance of intimacy can be easily misconstrued. We learn in our training to not personally disclose, for example, she says, but adds that, occasionally, transparency can be helpful.Still, with you, she continues, until I raised the question, I didnt know for sure that you would go with it for all I knew youd run out of here and never come back to risk being so uncomfortable again.Shes building my confidence more, and Im learning that I play a much bigger role in how my life is conducted than I often realize. My treatment wouldnt be happening if I werent enabling it.Then she says, And dont think its not nice for me to hear that a guy like you thinks Im beautiful.Crippled by the eroticism of the moment, and combined with the prevailing notion that no woman this stunning could ever be romantically interested in me, I flounder through words that resemble, Waitwhat?If we were somehow at a bar together, and you came over and talked to me, she says, then flips her palms up innocently, who knows?I laugh again and tell her thered be almost no chance of me approaching her because Id never feel like I had a shot in hell.Well, thats not the circumstances were in, she says. But you might. Who knows?Im confused Is she really attracted to me or is this some psychotherapeutic ruse? Im frustrated I told her I didnt really want to talk about it. Shouldnt she be more sensitive to my wants here? Im angry Is she getting an ego boost out of this? Most of all, I dont know what the next step is Am I about to experience the hottest thing thats ever happened to a straight male since the vagina was invented?There were two ways to find out:1) Discontinue the therapy, wait for her outside her office every day, follow her to a hypothetical happy hour and ask her out, or2) Keep going to therapy. A week later, Im physically in the meeting room with Lori, but mentally I havent left the recesses of my mind.Where are you today? she asks, probably noticing my eyes roving around the room.I dont know.Are you still grappling with the sexual tension between us?Here we go again.Yes, I say, with a bit of an edge in my voice, and I dont know what to do about it.Lori, ever intently, peers into my eyes, wrinkles her mouth and slightly shakes her head.Do you want to have sex with me? she asks.We both know the answer to that question. All I can do is stare back.Lets have sex, she announces. Right here, right now.What? I respond, flustered.Lets go! she says a little louder, opening up her arms and looking around as if to say the office is now our playground, and, oh, the rollicking fun wed have mixing bodily fluids.No, I tell her, You dont mean that.What if I do? she shoots back. Would you have sex with me, now, in this office?Of course not.Why of course not? How do I know for sure that you wont take me if I offer myself to you?I wouldnt do that.Thats what I thought, she says, and tension in the room decomposes. Mike, I dont feel that you would do something that you think is truly not in our best interest, which is exactly why I just gave you the choice.Her offer was a lesson in empowerment, helping me prove that I have an innate ability to make the right choices, even if Id so desperately prefer to make the wrong one.I see what she means. Im awfully proud of myself, and its OK to be in this instance. Im gaining trust in myself, and confidence to boot. But, as the dualities of life dictate, Im successfully doing the work with a daring therapist, while at the same time not entirely convinced she isnt in need of an ethical scrubbing. I dont have another session with Lori for nearly three months, because she tooka personal leave from her place of employment. When our sessions finally resumed, I could not wait to tell her about my budding relationship with Shauna.Ten minutes into my first date with Shauna right about the time she got up from her bar stool and said she was going to the can I knew she would, at the very least, be someone I was going to invest significant time in. She was as easy to talk to as any girl Id ever been with, and I found myself at ease. Plans happened magically without anxietyinducing, twentyfourhour waits between texts. Her quick wit kept me entertained, and I could tell by the way she so seriously spoke about dancing, her chosen profession, that she is passionate about the art form and mighty talented too. Shauna is beautiful, with flawless hazel eyes and straight dark hair, spunky bangs and a bob that matches her alwaysupbeat character. She is a snazzy dresser and enjoys a glass of whiskey with a side of fried pickles and good conversation as much as I do.Things escalated quickly, but very comfortably, and since wed both been in our fair share of relationships, we knew the true power of honesty and openness. So upon the precipice of my return to therapy I told Shauna about Lori, and admitted to having mixed feelings about what I was getting back into. I told her I was at least moderately uncertain if my mental health was Loris numberone concern since she always seemed to find the time to mention my attraction to her.The first two sessions of my therapeutic reboot had gone great. Lori appeared genuinely thrilled that I was dating Shauna and could see how happy I was. I wasnt overwhelmed with sexual tension in the new meeting room, though it wasnt actually spoken about, and in the back of my mind I knew it was just a matter of time before it would start to affect my ability to disclose my thoughts to Lori again.Then, while attempting to ingratiate myself with my new girlfriends cat by spooning food onto his tiny dish on the kitchen floor, I hear my phone ding from inside the living room.You got a text, babe, Shauna says. Its from Lori.Im so impressed with you and the work youre doing Shauna reads off my phone from inside the living room, inquisitively, and not happily. I stuff the cat food back into the Tupperware and toss it into the refrigerator. I make my way into the living room, angry at myself for not changing the settings on my new iPhone to disallow text previews on the locked screen. Shaunas walking too, and we meet near the kitchen door. Whats this? she says, holding up the phone. Your therapist texts you?I take the phone from Shauna and say the most obvious, clichsounding thing: Its not what it seems.As I text back a curt thanks, Shauna tells me shes going to ask her sister, a therapist herself, if its OK to text patients.Dont do that. I say, a little more emphatically. I promise, this is nothing to be worried about. Were not doing anything wrong. I explain that Loris just trying to build my selfesteem.The only reason Im even bringing this up is because you said you werent sure about her in the first place, Shauna reminds me. I can tell she regrets looking at my phone without my permission, but I completely understand her feelings.At my next session I tell Lori that Shauna saw her text and wasnt thrilled about it.She probably feels cheated on to some degree, Lori says. A relationship between a therapist and a patient can oftentimes seem much more intimate than the one between a romantic couple.Lori goes on to point out that the reason she feels we can exchange texts, blurring the lines between patientdoctor boundaries a hot topic in the psychotherapy world these days is because she trusts that Ill respect her space and privacy. Youve proven that much to me, she says.On my walk home, instead of being angry at Lori, I understand her thinking behind the text. But Im also nervous about how Lori and Shauna can ever coexist in my life.Isnt therapy supposed to ameliorate my anxiety? A week later, Lori begins our session by handing me a printout explaining the psychotherapeutic term erotic transference written by Raymond Lloyd Richmond, PhD. It says that erotic transference is the patients sense that love is being exchanged between him or herself and the therapist the exact sensation I was experiencing with Lori, of which she was astutely aware.According to Richmond, one of the primary reasons people seek therapy is because something was lacking in their childhood family life, perhaps unconditional nurturing guidance and protection. Upon feeling noticed and understood by a qualified therapist, sometimes a patient can be intoxicated by their therapists approval of them. A patient may in turn contemplate that a love is blossoming between them, and, in fact, it sort of is.From an ethical standpoint, Richmond argues all therapists are bound to love their patients, for therapists are committed to willing the good of all clients by ensuring that all actions within psychotherapy serve the clients need to overcome the symptoms which brought them into treatment. This takes genuine care and acceptance on their part. However, a patient can easily confuse the love they feel with simple desire. Theyre not quite in love with their therapist, so much as they yearn for acceptance from someone, and in those sessions they just happen to be receiving it from their doctor.Lori tells me that, all along, she has been working with what I gave her and that because I flirted with her a bit, she used that to her advantage in the treatment. In employing countertransference indicating that she had feelings for me she was keeping me from feeling rejected and despising my own thoughts and urges.Theres two people alone in a room together, and if theyre two attractive people, why wouldnt they be attracted to each other? says Dr. Galit Atlas. A psychoanalyst whos had her own private practice for fifteen years, Dr. Atlas has an upcoming book titled The Enigma of Desire: Sex, Longing and Belonging in Psychoanalysis, and I sought her as an independent source for this essay to help me understand Loris therapeutic strategies.Dr. Atlas explains that there are certain boundaries that cannot be crossed between therapist and patient under any circumstances like having sex with them, obviously. But many other relationship borders can be mapped out depending on the comfort level of the therapist, as long as they stay within the scope of the professions ethics, which complicates the discussion surrounding erotic transference.As a therapist, I have a role, Dr. Atlas says. My role is to protect you. She says it is incumbent on the therapist to not exploit the patient for the therapists own good, but admits that the presence of erotic transference in therapy brings about many challenges. Attraction is part of the human condition, she observes. In therapy, the question then is: What do you do with that? Do you deny it? Do you talk about it? How do you talk about it without seducing the patient and with keeping your professional ability to think and to reflect?I ask her about the benefits of exploring intimacy in therapy, and Dr. Atlas quickly points out that emotional intimacy though not necessarily that of the sexual brand is almost inevitable and required. An intimate relationship with a therapist can be a reparative experience repairing childhood wounds but mostly its about helping the patient to experience and tolerate emotional intimacy, analyzing the clients anxieties about being vulnerable and every mechanism one uses in order to avoid being exposed.Dr. Atlas says this topic speaks to every facet of the therapeutic relationship, regardless of gender or even sexual orientation, because intimacy reveals emotional baggage that both the patient and therapist carry with them into the session. But this isnt a symmetrical relationship, and the therapist is the one who holds the responsibility.Freud said that a healthy person should be able to work and to love, she says. In some ways therapy practices both, and in order to change the patient will have to be known by the therapist. That is intimacy. In order to be able to be vulnerable, both parties have to feel safe.After I briefly explain all that has gone on between me and Lori, Dr. Atlas steadfastly says she does not want to judge too harshly why and how everything came to pass in my therapy. I dont know your therapist, and I dont know your history, she says. But she offers that I should explore the possibility that I might have created and admitted my sexual adoration of Lori because one of my fears is to be ignored, not noticed.Then I offer: Maybe this essay is being written for the same reason.Exactly.Maybe I wanted to interview Lori about erotic transference in my therapy sessions for that same reason as wellto stand out as the most amazingly understanding patient ever. I want to be very clear that this was never about feeding my own ego, Lori says about her approach to my treatment. We were always doing this in your best interest.Im in Loris office, a tape recorder rolling and a pad and pen in my hands.I felt I was doing a disservice to you if I didnt out what I felt was weighing on us, which, honestly, felt like a heavy secret, she says, pointing out that she discussed my therapeutic process for many hours in her required supervision meetings.In order for Lori to advance in her field as a social worker, she has to attend 3,000 conference hours with another professional to go over casework kind of like therapy quality control.We talk about all of this during one of my scheduled sessions, for the entire hour and go over by a few minutes, too.Lori says that when she began her career as a social worker, she decided she wasnt going to shy away from any subjects. Its typical for a client to have a habitual desire to sweep things under the rug, she observes, especially about taboo topics. It can become a cycle of behavior that Lori seeks to break.I refer back to the time when, unprovoked, she brought up my attraction to her.She says she mentioned it to avoid what therapists call doorknobbing, which is when a patient will purposely mention some huge reveal right at the end of a session so as to sidestep a lengthy conversation about it.My only question for you is, was I wrong for bringing it up? she asks. Only you can answer that.Loris great at forcing me to reflect.I guess when I said I was over it and could move on, that was an example of my strict blackandwhite thinking, I say, throwing back some language shes used often to describe my challenge in accepting dualities. In my mind, I was either attracted to her and shouldnt see her anymore, or I wasnt attracted to her and could still have her be my therapist. There was no in between.I realize now that she wasnt wrong for mentioning my feelings for her, even when I didnt want her to. Lori noticed that I was frustrated with myself and wanted me to know that an attraction to a therapist is so normal and happens so frequently that there are technical terms for it.I turn my attention towards the presence of countertransference in our session. Im trying to come up with an actual question here, but, really, I just want her to confirm her feelings for me are real. So I say, referring to her feelings, with a great degree of difficulty, Its funny that they seem genuine to this day.They are genuine, Lori says, adding a moment later: I think it might be a good idea if we explore why our discussing it suggests a lack of authenticity.It doesnt, necessarily, I begin, then stammer through a few sentences, worried I might offend her by implying shes been dishonest. I finally settle on, I guess it comes back to my selfesteem issues. Why would a beautiful woman think Im attractive?Lying in bed with Shauna a few months into our relationship, I ask her what she thought about me the moment she first saw me. Im fishing for a compliment. But we met on Tinder and I just hope that seeing me in person wasnt some kind of letdown for her after swiping right on my handpicked glamour shots. Obviously she isnt going to say something so awful after having committed to me for so long. Its a slamdunk ego boost.She says she liked the fact that I was wearing a blazer and a tie on a first date. She adds that I was a little shorter than she anticipated, but was content with the two of us at least being the same exact height.What did you think when you first saw me? she asks, turning it around, naturally.Staying committed to my honestyatallcosts policy, I say, I thought you were really beautiful, but not to the point where I was intimidated by you, which was very important because if I was, you would have gotten a very unconfident version of me, and we probably wouldnt have hit it off as well as we did.Shauna thinks about that for a second, and eventually nods OK.I explain that my insecurity could often get the better of me in dating situations. It was easy to convince myself that Id be rejected by the girl I was with, especially if I thought she was out of my league. I would then slip into a nervous and reserved state that isnt at all reflective of my true self.Im essentially saying that I was so thrilled to not find Shauna so extraordinarily pretty that I couldnt accept her being on a date with me. That thought made so much sense at the time I said it, but Ive since come to realize it is as ridiculous as it is insulting. After ten months of being with Shauna, Im still completely floored by her, on every level, including a physical one. It gives me great pride to walk into a room with her, and I dont imagine that changing. Therefore, she actually did meet a confident version of me. The way people look doesnt drastically change in ten months but a persons perception of self can. It seems my emotional workouts in erotic transference were just beginning to produce results. People fuck up, Lori informs me during one winter session. Therapists have slept with clients before, just like politicians have had sex with their interns. But, so you have a full understanding of how this works, we can date. She explains the parameters as outlined in the social workers code of ethics. One of the many stipulations is that we wouldnt be able to see each other, under any circumstances, for at least two years before dating. She tells me she loves her job, and theres no way she would ever sacrifice my safety or her career for anything, so she would strictly follow all the dictated rules. If you truly want to date me, there is the option. But its ultimately up to you.I know what shes doing here putting the onus on me, just like last year when she said we could have sex. The difference this time is the answer I want to give is on par with all of my involuntary urges.I dont want to stop the work were doing, I say. At this point, its far too valuable to me, and, really, I know very little about you. Shes beautiful, exercises, is smart, funny, professional, enjoys good TVand thats about it. Aside from whether or not wed even both be single in two years, and if wed be in the correct mind frame to explore a relationship, there are several other things Im considering here: Would Lori and I really be compatible in every way? Would she ever see me as a lover, a partner, an equal, and not a patient? Could I ever reveal a detail about myself, or even just a shitty day of work, without wondering if she was picking it apart and analyzing it?Frankly, all those questions could be answered in the positive. But, even if I wasnt in a happy relationship Shauna makes this choice much easier, for sure I wouldnt go that route. Id be out a therapist. Its a beautiful spring night in New York and only sidewalk seating will do. Shauna and I are out to dinner at a restaurant near her Queens apartment, and were both in good spirits. The weather and the alcohol consumption are partly to blame for that, but, on cue with the seasons change, I feel Ive turned an emotional corner. Work payments that were past due are finally finding their way into my bank account. As it turns out, my shortterm money troubles were not an indication that I had no business being a writer, or that my life changeup was as irresponsible as unprotected sex at fourteen years old.Id told Lori as much that afternoon. I took a mental step back from my current situation and realized that in spite of my recent hardships, I was succeeding. I summarize my session for Shauna, who nods in agreement, lovingly pointing out that shes had the same challenging freelancer experiences as a dancer.Youre doing great, babe, she says matteroffactly.Thank you. That means a lot, I respond. I guess if Im going to be a writer I just have to accept all this and have faith in myself. The way Lori put it was, You just have to go allin.Good, Shauna says. You should listen to the women in your life.

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