Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions Ch. 04

"I can't stop cumming, John. You make me cum all the time. I just can't help myself," Rosie said. "Oh God! I'm going to cum again. I want to feel your seeds overflowing inside me. Fill me up, my darling. Fuck me hard."

Whatever it was that had allowed me to keep going so long snapped very suddenly at that moment. The powerful, consuming pleasure exploded tearing through me in a rush that pulled at every nerve ending, sinew and muscle in my body. It was like being struck by lightning but without the shock; overtaken by painful euphoria racking my body, pleasure ablaze with blinding light. I know I cried out. Rosie had moved her legs from my shoulders wrapping them tightly around me holding me as I sobbed in her arms. My muscles ripped at my guts, straining my balls as I pumped my semen deep into Rosie. The powerful instincts of procreation took over driving me to plant my seeds deep, as deep as I could inside her.

When my orgasm had subsided we lay still in each other's arms. I pulled the sheet and quilt up over us to keep us warm when our sweat began to cool. I did not withdraw from Rosie until my erection had receded completely. We must have stayed there holding each other tightly for fifteen minutes or more. Neither of us said a word. No words were necessary.

I kissed Rosie's lank damp hair. We were both drenched in perspiration. Rosie stirred.

"John, I have this idea...well, it's more of a suggestion really," she said softly.

"Tell me, my love," I replied.

"It's not a big thing...it's just that I think we should take a holiday together...go away somewhere, warm, dreamy and romantic, just to be with each other alone for a time...I just think...oh it's nothing really. I shouldn't say either and I'm frightened that I might be being selfish," Rosie said.

"The last thing you are is selfish, Rosie...the very last thing in the world. But say what you were going to say," I said.

"It feels wrong for me to talk about it in a way," she said, "and I hope you won't be offended, but I just have this feeling..."

"Oh Rosie, don't be silly, my love, just say. I couldn't possibly be offended," I replied.

"It's just that I have this bad feeling," she said. "It's about Jane. She seems like a loose cannon at present. I guess it's just based on what I hear from you. Well, a lot of my time as a therapist is spent dealing with human misery. I have this sense that something may go very wrong with her...like she goes off the rails completely or worse. I don't even know; it's just a nagging feeling I have.

"I have a real sense of you too; a sense that if that happens you would care...like you wouldn't just behave like a bystander, that you may have to leave for a while. I know you would care."

"Come here you. I want to hold you as I speak to you," I said. "About the holiday, my answer is an enthusiastic and definite 'yes please'. So let's do that and plan our short escape soon!

"I know just what you mean about Jane and I'm sure that what you feel you've picked up from me. To me she feels like a major traffic accident just waiting to happen. I'm in kind of an unresolved place about her just now. I'll get there so bear with me, but right now I just don't know what to do for the best.

"So much has changed for me in the last week since meeting you too. I need some time to get my bearings, just to catch up in a way.

"You are such a kind woman, Rosie. I don't know how I had the good fortune to meet you. I tell you what though, if I lay here I'll go to sleep and since it's so early, I'll wake at some ridiculous time tomorrow like the middle of the night. So let's get up, take a shower and maybe just talk for a while...then you can hear my true confessions, the confessions of a totally screwed up psychologist."

"You will stay here with me tonight, John, won't you?" Rosie said, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course, I will Rosie," I said. "So as to be out of your way when you start work, I'll get up at six, throw my clothes on and leave. I would really like to stay with you tonight though."

"Good! I'm so glad. Let's go and shower," Rosie said and smiled warmly. "There are clean towels in the bathroom you used on Saturday. I was expecting visitors, you see."

"Visitors, really?" I asked.

"Just you, silly!" she said.

"Oh okay," I said laughing.

I went back to the sitting room, grabbed my clothes and wandered off to the bathroom where I engaged in tuneless singing. My problem with singing is that I could never remember more than one or two lines of songs and the fact that I simply could not sing. I was out-of-tune and off-key. To a passer-by, my singing would have sounded like the sound of someone strangling a cat, a tomcat maybe. But I was at least happy, so it may have given the impression that the tomcat was pleased to meet his end.

I showered, dried and dressed again for the third time on that particular Monday. I wandered back to the sitting room where I caught Rosie looking dreamily out of the window.

"A penny for your thoughts?" I said.

"Oh I was just daydreaming, of us and of you mainly...wondering where it might be fun to go on holiday together," Rosie said. Somehow I like the idea of Paris. It's such a romantic place with so much going on.

"Can I get you a drink? I can do wine and beer as well as scotch and gin as you like,"

"I think I'll have a scotch nevertheless," I said.

"Will Springbank do you?" she said.

"Perfect," I replied. "I love the idea of spending a week in Paris together too, Rosie."

"Well, that's a plan already," she said and smiled. "We'll have to decide when. It would be good to go before summer is out and it's already late July.

"Hold that thought, I'll just go and get the drinks," she said. "Water or ice with yours?"

"Water please," I said.

"Okay, I'll be right back," she said and with those words she darted towards the kitchen returning minutes later with a tray loaded with two large cut glasses, a bottle of 15 year old Springbank and a blue glass bottle of still mineral water.

"I thought you might like to pour, John," she said. "Sometimes I can be a bit heavy-handed."

"Not that I'd noticed," I said laughing.

We poured drinks and Rosie sat on the large couch. I sat on the soft Persian rug at her feet.

"On dates for the holiday, I probably have more flexibility than you just now, Rosie," I said, "so why don't you give it some thought then we can book whatever we need to."

"I'll let you know before the week is out," she said. " I just need to check when there will be cover for me at the clinic."

"Great. So is it my turn to confess now?" I said. "I hope I don't have to do contrition or penance afterwards!"

"Oh you just might, you know," she said, " but don't worry, I'll make it fun for you."

We both laughed.

"But it could just be a revelation rather than a confession in which case, I might not need to do either," I said.

I drew breath very deeply and thought for a second.

"Okay, her goes nothing," I said dolefully. "Jane is my third wife. I have been married twice before.

"My first wife was called Penny. Penny was a truly lovely woman whom I adored in every way. We had lived together for a couple of years before marriage and to me it seemed like a perfect match. Eighteen months into our marriage, Penny decided that she preferred Lassie to Pal as the dog food commercial goes. She felt that she preferred women sexually to men and that she was a lesbian. She had been having an affair with an eminent woman lawyer and decided that she would move out from me and in with her.

"I was devastated. On one level, I couldn't understand at all. I felt we had had the most wonderful sex life and that made it all the more difficult. I'm not going to go on too much about it now. I went through it over and over afterwards. Some people even threw nasty bigoted rubbish at me about being sexually inadequate. You wouldn't believe it really. It was her choice and her sexuality, nothing to do with me at all. It took me an age to come to terms with that one.

"Nevertheless we salvaged our friendship from it all and to this day I remain great friends with Penny. She's living happily with another woman and has lived with the same woman now for the past twenty years at a guess. I was just twenty three when we married."

I paused and looked at Rosie who had tears running down her cheeks. I leant forward and squeezed her hand.

"It's okay, Rosie," I said. "It's just life and sometimes life is cruel and hard."

"Don't I just know it," she said.

"Okay, I'll go on," I said. "I'll finish my revelations this time so hold on as this might be a long one.

"I had a fairly long period of being free and single after that. Like most of us, I'm a social person at heart, a normal functioning social sexual being. I had lots of women friends and lovers too but I grew tired of living alone.

"Than I met Katherine or Kate as she preferred to be called. We had a long courtship. Everything felt okay. It was not a relationship that rocked the world by any means, but it felt safe. I had qualified as a therapist by this time too and I thought I knew and understood myself well.

" I suppose in many ways we were more like good friends than lovers. I also think that I had little confidence in my ability to sustain an intimate relationship with anyone, and there lies the rub. I'll come to that later.

"On the night after the day of our marriage, Kate moved into a separate bedroom saying that my snoring had become intolerable. There was only one problem with that and as I found out subsequently I don't often snore. After that things went from bad to worse.

"Kate would like to have sex at ten on a Saturday morning. It was sex by appointment and no more than twice a week. Sunday morning was sometimes okay too. There was no intimacy at all. Our marriage was like a bad habit more than anything else. The sex wasn't very good either. If our sex lasted for more than twenty minutes, Kate would complain. It was just a joke, like a bad joke on me.

"I tried to talk to her about it all. I talked about our difficulties with intimacy and she asked me what intimacy was! I remember writing a paper at the time for a psychology journal called 'What is intimacy?' The paper was a reaction to my difficulties with her. She didn't really get all this intimacy stuff.

"We went to counselling together and separately. It was a total dead duck. I mean there were no feelings there to work with. She had some particular difficulties with her late father, and a late husband. There was some very strange stuff going on for her, all locked away and churning inside.

"In the end, and it was the end, the counsellor said in her view that we should separate and each go our own way and that was exactly what we did.

"By this time, the counsellor had stopped seeing me and she just worked with Kate. The counsellor and I knew the inevitable conclusion already."

I paused. I had gulped down all my whisky and reached for a refill. This time I poured a very heavy measure.

"How am I doing ma'am?" I asked Rosie. "No, don't answer that yet. I'm doing a lot of skimming the surface here I know. Maybe at the end, I'll say more about that. But if I don't keep going now I'll not finish."

Rosie smiled kindly at me.

"So that was Kate and then there was Jane," I said. I'm not going to say much more about her. You know a little already. There's so much I could say but here I am again in between a rock and a hard place. You are neither of those by the way, Rosie."

Rosie giggled and looked straight at me. Not once during my monologue had she diverted her eyes from me.

"So here comes the brief summary and analysis as far as I understand it," I said. "I'm not sure how far that is really.

"I'm a qualified therapist. I've done relationship and marriage counselling. I've even been published on the subject. But when it comes to close intimate relationships for me personally, I'm totally useless, complete crap you could say. I've been through hundreds of hours of training therapy. Every part of my past has been laid out before me and dissected in detail but still I get into such terrible messes in close relationships.

"There's one important factor, like a missing piece of the jigsaw, that I know is missing too. It's the therapist's dream really. I had a totally loveless childhood. It was worse than that too. Some of it verged on brutal cruelty and abuse. It was probably the biggest reason why I took up therapy in the first place. During training I had to get all this out and look at it in the minutest detail. I got angry, raged and I wept going through all that stuff. I was so scared that I almost gave up the course but I didn't want it to beat me. I felt so much turmoil inside I was afraid I would have a breakdown, but there were good and supportive people at the Institute and I made it through intact.

"I supposed all that we looked at was the stuff that was there, rather than the parts that were missing. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's more complicated, I don't know.

"The emotional bonds of childhood are what form and shape our lives. If there's no point of reference for a person's emotional world, no emotional frame of reference, they have difficulty in understanding their own feelings, particularly their deep feelings. Perhaps they can pick the rest up on the way, but without that frame of reference, there's no guide to love, loving and being loved. And it doesn't stop there; they probably don't know where their emotional limits or boundaries sit either. It's like trying to follow a route map without a compass; you just keep getting lost.

"So perhaps that's me, no emotional frame of reference and intimate relationships by trial and error, only in my case, there are a lot of errors.

"I don't even know if that's right. How could I? It's like how would you know what's missing if it's never been there, but I think I'm on the right track. I'll just have to try and follow my heart and be true to myself. Part of that journey may just be finding that truth and even knowing or hearing what my heart is saying.

"That's it. Revelation over for now! I'm done now, completely done in!"

I sighed loudly and gulped at my whisky.

"Oh my! Wow!" Rosie said. "That says so much about you, you know."

"What's that, Rosie?" I said, "that I'm a totally hopeless case."

"No, in fact it's the opposite," she said. "I think you're the most amazing, bright, sensitive and aware man I've ever met. What's more I think you're honest and courageous too. Telling me all that took a lot of courage.AndI love you. That's what I think."

"Oh Rosie, you must be a really brilliant therapist," I said and chuckled. "You're a very loving, warm, bright and beautiful woman, you know."

Rosie blushed.

"Aw go on," she said, "and I believe that's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.

"Sometimes I wonder about me, therapy and love. I often wonder about my clients and if they had love, whether they would still come and see me. But some of the deeper problems I see are so complex. Thank God, I'm not a psychiatrist. It's only sometimes that I have to face real mental illness. Most times otherwise, it's just some profound emotional difficulty or disturbance. Often it's the legacy of some early life experience too.

"It makes me think about what I really do. Is there a real knowledge or skill in what I'm doing or am I just the dispenser of care and concern that people don't get elsewhere? Of course, I take their money so what does that make me? Occasionally I do feel uneasy about that, like I'm some paid dispenser of loving care, like a prostitute of the soul."

"Stop that now," I said. "It's that you combine your enormous knowledge and skill with loving care that makes you a good therapist, Rosie. I know you are a good therapist, that's obvious to me. It's your work too. You need the contract of which payment is a part to symbolise that this is therapy and not surrogate friendship or as you put it, prostitution of the soul. If you had no skill, you would either be a charlatan or a loving friend. You're no charlatan and we know that for sure. Your professionalism sets you apart from being a loving friend too.

"What's really great about you, Rosie, is that you see it as your purpose to liberate your clients back into the world with a far better chance of coping, of living fuller lives than they had before they came to see you. That's an amazing gift. I meanyou have an amazing gift.What puts you apart from the hoard of blood-sucking, money grabbing therapists that are out there, and we both know they exist, is that you do have that purpose and that you don't encourage dependency or some false sense of your indispensability."

"Ever thought of taking up therapy, John? Of being a therapist's therapist?" Rosie said and laughed.

"No, I've got the badge and the licence," I said. "I like what I do. It brings together my business skills and I enjoy the practical side of that as well working with people...psychology skills too. I wouldn't work that well as a therapist, not really. I like work that is more driven by activity than contemplation, I guess. But that's just me. But I do know that you're a great therapist and it shines from you like a beacon in the darkness. That seems right for you too."

"You are a lovely man, you know," she said, "a manly man; a real proper chap and one with all his bits working. I do love that in you. And before you get rude, by bits I meant your enormous emotional resources, all of those parts of you. But I do love your rude bits too."

I got up, took Rosie in my arms and hugged her.

As I held her close, I said, "You're very special to me, Rosie, very special indeed."

"And you to me, John," she said. "Let's go to bed soon. I want to hold you all night."

That night, I enjoyed the most peaceful and untroubled sleep that I can remember. It may have been the unburdening of my soul or the copious amount of whisky I had drunk. Rosie and I did hold each other all night long. Even in sleep, Rosie had a way of exuding calm, warmth and loving-kindness. As my consciousness ebbed away, I felt the odd thought about Jane nag and niggle at me. Consciously I packed those thoughts away. They could wait until tomorrow.