In the quiet suburban neighbourhood where Steven lived, a peculiar figure often drew curious glances from the residents. Mr Harrison, a widower in his mid-fifties, had a penchant for vibrant colours that stood out like a beacon of eccentricity amidst the sea of beige and grey houses. His garden, a riot of untamed foliage, starkly contrasted with the meticulously manicured lawns around his. The other thing that raised eyebrows amongst the neighbours was his profession. He was a successful sex therapist who practised out of his home office.
Steven, a shy, teenager of eighteen, lived with his mother who worked long hours, and he was in his final year at school. The biggest problem Steven faced was the panic attacks he suffered. The recognition of his heart racing and his chest tightening, the tell-tale signs of another panic attack, made him dread the lonely afternoons and evenings spent pretending to be okay when he was at home or in school.
Steven didn’t understand what triggered his panic attacks and sometimes they would last for considerable periods, only being resolved by breathing into paper bags to stop him from hyperventilating.
One day, on the pathway, gripping his school textbooks to his chest like a shield, Mr Harrison was outside his house, gardening, when he noticed Steven stumble with beads of sweat forming on his forehead and panic in his eyes. His breathing is out of control bordering on hyperventilation. He knew the signs all too well, having suffered from anxiety himself in his younger days. With a calm, knowing nod, he approached him, his eyes filled with empathy and concern advising him to breathe deeply and to relax.
Eventually, Steven calmed down and his breathing returned to normal as he stood there with Mr Harrison touching his shoulder, steadying him whilst his senses were restored. It seemed then an appropriate time to speak. "Steven, would you like to come over after school tomorrow?" he asked. "I might have something that can help you find some peace. There’s nothing to worry about and I won’t even charge for my therapy session. I know what you are suffering having been like you when younger."
Surprised by the offer and not wishing to seem ungrateful, he agreed, not knowing what to expect from the peculiar man who had always been a friendly presence in his otherwise mundane existence. Little did he know that his offer would be the first thread in a tapestry of self-discovery and healing that would forever change his life.
The next evening, Steven approached Mr Harrison's house with a mix of trepidation and hope. He had never been inside before, and the thought of sharing his innermost fears with anyone, let alone the enigmatic neighbour he barely knew, made his heart race anew. He rang the doorbell, the chime echoing through the quiet street, and took a deep, shaky breath.
When he opened the door, Mr Harrison greeted him with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with a gentle mischief. He looked him up and down, taking in his stiff school uniform and the sweat-soaked collar. "Ah, my dear," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "You must be so uncomfortable in your school uniform. Come in and let's get you into something more relaxed before we begin.”
“I didn’t bring anything else to wear Mr Harrison, because I didn’t know what to expect and I’ve come directly from school.”
“That’s okay Steven, I understand, and I agree, it’s new to you but if you are happy, strip down to your underwear," he suggested. "We can't have you suffocating in that get-up." The colour drained from Steven's face, and his breath grew shallow. The idea of stripping down in front of anyone, let alone Mr Harrison, was more terrifying than any panic attack. His eyes darted around, searching for escape. But Mr Harrison's gaze was steady and reassuring, as if he had seen the storm brewing within him and knew exactly how to calm it.
"It's okay," he said softly, stepping closer and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I understand that this might be hard for you, but trust me, it's a crucial part of the process that you are comfortable and as relaxed as you can be on your first visit."
The panic grew, and his breaths came in rapid, uneven gasps. Mr Harrison's eyes searched his, and he nodded as if he read the fear written all over his face. "Let's sit down, shall we?" He guided him to a plush armchair in the living room, which was as colourful and cluttered as the garden outside. The walls were adorned with tapestries of assorted sizes, and the scent of incense wafted through the air, adding to the serene ambience. He handed him a paper bag. "Breathe into this, nice and slow."
His voice was calming, a gentle guide through the tumultuous maelstrom of his anxiety. He did as he said, feeling the paper expand and contract with his breaths. Mr Harrison waited patiently, his eyes never leaving his, until his breathing grew steadier, and his panic began to subside. “Stand up Steven and relax,” as Mr Harrison stood.
Then, as he stood there, Mr Harrison began to undress him, his movements deliberate and careful, like a mother tending to his child. First, he eased his blazer off his shoulders, revealing the damp fabric of his shirt. He felt a flush of embarrassment as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off, his touch surprisingly firm yet tender.
Next, he knelt before him and untied his shoes, his eyes focused on his task as he removed them, along with his socks. The cool air of the room brushed against his bare feet, sending a shiver up his spine. Mr Harrison then reached for his trouser belt and unbuckled it, his smile reassuring as he undid the button and zip and slowly slipped his trousers down his legs until they were off, folding them carefully, adding to the pile of neatly folded clothes. Steven felt a strange sense of vulnerability wash over him as he stood before him, now only wearing a vest and his new Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities. Mr Harrison's eyes remained soft, never straying from his own, as if to remind him that this was a safe space.
Mr Harrison could see that Steven’s body had reacted to being undressed as he displayed a large erection hidden behind the cotton fabric. “Sit down on the carpet Steven and cross your legs,” he instructed him.
Mr Harrison sat down on the carpet opposite him, his legs crossed, as he began to breathe deeply, his chest rising and falling in a mesmerising rhythm. "Now, Steven," he said, his voice a low purr, "I want you to mirror my breathing."
Steven nodded, his eyes glued to Mr Harrison’s chest as he tried to mimic the pattern of his inhales and exhales. The fabric of his tighty-whities grew tauter with every passing second, the elastic digging into his skin as his erection grew more pronounced. He squirmed, hoping Mr Harrison wouldn't notice, but his gaze remained focused on his eyes, not once straying to the bulge that was now impossible to ignore.
"Good," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress. "Now, let's talk about your panic attacks."
Steven's eyes darted back to his, and he swallowed hard. He felt the heat in his cheeks, his gaze dropping to his lap. "I-I don't know," he stuttered, fidgeting with his fingers. "It just happens. Whenever a girl or a boy... I mean when people get too close..." His voice trailed off as the embarrassment grew.
Mr Harrison leaned forward; his hands clasped together in a steeple. "It's okay," he assured him. "We all have our triggers." Mr Harrison reached over and took Steven’s hand, his touch surprisingly warm and comforting. "Now, close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice. Imagine a warm, safe place. It could be anywhere you like, a beach, a forest, anywhere that makes you feel safe."
Steven's eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to follow his instructions, his breaths still coming in shallow gasps. But as he sat there, almost naked and trembling, he found that he couldn't focus. Mr Harrison's closeness, his gentle touch, and the way his chest moved with his deep breaths were all too distracting. He felt his face grow hotter, his panic morphing into a different kind of discomfort.
Mr Harrison noticed his struggle and sighed, a hint of frustration in the sound. "For Christ's sake, Steven," he said, his voice firm but kind. “What’s wrong?”
I’m sorry Mr Harrison but I’m just not comfortable sitting cross-legged with…you know what.”
Realising what Steven was alluding to, Mr Harrison told him, "If it would make you feel more comfortable, I wouldn’t be averse to your being naked if it helps. I am after all a sex therapist and have seen many men and women naked and perhaps nudity will allow you the freedom to relax.
Steven looked at Mr Harrison. “You suggest I take my vest and underwear off and let you see me?”
Steven, Mr Harrison responded, “This isn't going to work if you're not fully engaged and uncomfortable." His directness was like a slap in the face, cutting through the fog of his embarrassment. He looked up at Mr Harrison, his eyes searched him seeing a mix of impatience and understanding.
Slowly, Steven stood, feeling a little bit more relaxed although his hands were shaking as he peeled the vest from his body, handing the vest to Mr Harrison. He then slid his tighty-whities down his legs, the waistband catching on his erection. Steven felt a fresh wave of panic as he stepped out of them and handed them to Mr Harrison who tuned them the correct way out, shaking them a little as he folded them neatly adding them to the pile of clothes adding, “Nice underwear Steven.”
As Steven stood there, his erection pointing skyward, Mr Harrison's gaze swept over him, and he took a moment to appreciate the young man before him. "Beautiful," he told him, his voice soothing and genuine. "You should never be ashamed of your body, especially not when it's doing exactly what it's supposed to. You have a magnificent body Steven and a wonderful penis you should be proud of."
Steven looked down at him in shock, his cheeks flaming. "What... what do you mean?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Harrison leaned back having resumed his place on the carpet, his gaze never leaving his. "Your body is a natural wonder, a tool for pleasure and connection," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. "But we won't be focusing on that today, so sit down and let’s try again." As he gave Steven’s erection a gentle nudge with his foot. "We're here to tackle your panic, not your erection although there is a cross-over that triggers your panic attacks versus sexual stimulation and I suspect you know the answer but haven’t faced it yet."
The tension in the room grew as he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving his. "Tell me, Steven, do you know what happens when you become aroused?"
Steven's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He knew what he was referring to, but talking about it was another thing entirely. "I... I mean, I think so," he murmured, his voice cracking.
Mr. Harrison nodded; his expression serious. "Your body is going through a lot of changes right now, and it's normal to be overwhelmed by it all," he said. "But understanding how it works can be incredibly liberating." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving Steven’s. "Now, let's talk about masturbation. It's a natural and healthy way for you to understand your own body and relieve stress. Have you tried it?"
Steven's eyes grew wide with shock, and he looked down at his lap, his face a deep shade of red. He mumbled a barely audible "Yes," his voice barely a whisper.
"Good. Have you ever masturbated with a friend for example?" Mr Harrison asked with a knowing smile. "I want you to understand it's not something to be ashamed of. It's a part of who you are, and it can be incredibly therapeutic sometimes sharing the experience can be rewarding and liberating.
“I have never masturbated with anyone Mr Harrison although…I have thought about it.” Steven responded.
“What would be your reaction Steven if I asked you to show me? Mr Harrison asked. “I want you to show me how you do it and to share your feelings as you do it."
Steven's eyes shot to his, a mix of shock and confusion. He had never talked about such personal matters with anyone, let alone performed them in front of someone. But there was something in his tone, something that told him this was part of the process, something he needed to do. He took a deep breath and tentatively reached down to stroke himself, his hand trembling.
Mr. Harrison's smile grew wider as he watched him, his eyes never leaving his. "That's it, Steven," he encouraged, his voice a purr. "Just let it happen. There's no need to rush. Take your time and enjoy it. Feel the freedom and enjoyment of someone watching you. Feel your liberation flow through your body."
Steven lay back on the plush carpet, the sensation of the soft fibres against his bare skin adding to the overwhelming mix of embarrassment and arousal. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the reality of the situation.
Steven started to breathe in sync with Mr Harrison, the sound of his breaths guiding his own as he slowly began to touch himself. His heart hammered in his chest; each beat a silent acceptance of the intimacy of the moment.
Mr. Harrison watched him with an intensity that made him feel both exposed and oddly comforted. Steven could feel his gaze on him, the weight of it like a physical touch, urging him closer to the precipice. His strokes grew more erratic as the tension in his body built, his muscles tightening with every shallow breath.
"Remember, Steven," he said, his voice a gentle coax, "just focus on the sensations. Let go of everything else."
Steven nodded, his eyes tightly shut, as he continued to masturbate. The sound of his breathing filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of his panic attacks. His hand moved faster and faster, his hips bucking slightly with every stroke. He could feel the beginnings of a release building in the pit of his stomach, a warmth that started to spread through his body.
"Good," Mr. Harrison murmured, his voice like a gentle breeze. "Now, when you feel it, I want you to imagine that warmth filling your chest, pushing out the fear."
Steven's strokes grew more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged pants. He focused on the instructions; the image of his panic being replaced by the sensation of heat spreading from his core. It grew stronger, more intense until it was all he could feel. And just as he reached the peak, just as the warmth threatened to consume him, Mr. Harrison spoke again.
"Now, let go," he said, his voice a command and a whisper all at once. "Allow yourself to enjoy the orgasm as you edge yourself closer to climax and when you have shot your load, I want you to continue stroking your cock until you can’t take it anymore."
Steven's body tensed as he approached climax, the heat building in his loins, his mind racing with images of the panic that had become his constant companion. And as he reached the peak, as his body spasmed and pleasure surged through him, he felt something shift within his chest. It was as if a cage had been unlocked, releasing a creature that had been trapped for too long. The panic was still there, but it was muted, pushed to the back of his mind by the all-consuming physical sensation.
He opened his eyes just as the first spurt of cum shot out, hitting his cheek, and sending a shock of sensation through his body. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, intimate, powerful, and somehow...freeing. Mr. Harrison watched him with an expression that was both detached and intensely focused as if he were observing a scientific experiment with great personal interest.
Steven's hand continued to move, the pleasure building and cresting with each stroke. He felt another spurt, this one stronger than the first, as his entire body convulsed with the force of his orgasm. The cum shot up, painting a line across his forehead into his hair, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. His breathing grew ragged, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he continued to shoot cum over his chest following Mr Harrison's guidance, stroking himself past the orgasm until the tension he was feeling became overwhelming as he drained his body of all his sperm.
Mr Harrison remained where he was, his eyes never leaving his. "Good boy," he said, his voice a gentle coo. "Now, don't be afraid of it. It's a part of you." he reached over and took Steven’s hand, guiding it to the sticky mess on his chest. "Go ahead, touch it. Explore it. Enjoy it."
Steven's heart was still racing, but he did as he said, his fingertips tentatively touching the warm fluid. He felt a strange fascination mixed with the lingering embarrassment, but he didn't pull away. His hand moved of its own accord, tracing patterns through the cum, feeling the way it clung to his skin. Mr Harrison's hand remained on his lower stomach, his touch firm and grounding, keeping him present in the moment.
“Now, I want you to taste yourself and tell me what you experience.” Mr Harrison told Steven.
“It tastes salty and warm and there’s a smell I can’t quite put my finger on,” as Steven tasted his sperm again, “and I quite like it.”
Steven lay there relaxing, feeling a liberation, he had never felt before as Mr Harrison passed him a box of tissues, his smile warm and encouraging. "Good job, Steven," he said, his voice a gentle pat on the back. "Now, when you are ready, use the tissue to clean up or if you wish, let your cum dry on you, savouring the smell and the feeling. It’s up to you what you decide."
Steven took the tissues with shaky hands, to wipe away the evidence of his vulnerability, feeling a strange mix of relief as he cleaned his forehead and cheek but decided to leave his chest and stomach to dry the cum resting there.
Mr. Harrison's voice brought him back to the moment. "You've done well, Steven," he said, his tone filled with genuine pride. "The first step in conquering your fears is understanding and embracing the physical reactions of your body." Mr Harrison took his hand, his touch as warm and comforting as ever. "Tonight, you've learned to channel your panic into something more... manageable."
Steven nodded, still feeling a bit dizzy from the overwhelming experience. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up onto his elbows, his body feeling both exhausted and alive. Mr Harrison reached over and picked up his tighty whities from the pile of clothes. "Now, stand up," he instructed Steven, his eyes never leaving his. "Let me put these back on for you,” as Mr Harrison stood.
His touch was surprisingly gentle as he slid the tighty-whities up his legs and over his now semi-erect cock. Next, Mr Harrison slipped over his head his vest, pulling it down and tucking it into his tighty whities with a motherly efficiency that made him feel both childish and oddly cherished. He took a deep breath, his mind racing with questions and confusion.
"Remember, Steven, for our next session, I want you to be as you are. No clothes for the session, just be yourself," as he passed the rest of Steven’s clothes allowing him to get dressed, his firmness brooked no argument, and yet there was a softness to his voice that was almost... seductive.
The idea of being completely naked in front of his neighbour, especially after what had just transpired, was enough to make his cheeks burn with embarrassment. But he had helped him in a way no one else ever had, and he found himself nodding, agreeing to his request without fully understanding the benefits.
Mr Harrison's gaze held a secret, a knowing glint that sent a shiver down his spine as he handed him his school blazer. "See you tomorrow," he said, his voice a soft caress. "And remember, this is just the beginning."
