The Asian Commercial Sex Scene - View Single Post

JEMMA · #2 18-07-2018, 09:28 AM

"Yes!" It was one those rainny nights. It was so cold outside and it was almost bedtime. I was already in my pajamas and I was having cramps so he was rubbing my belly. Mom had put a quilt over us because it was so cold. His hand was under my pajama top, rubbing my belly, and I pulled at his wrist. He knew what that meant by then, so he just slid his hand up to rub my breasts. But this was the first time he'd ever done it inside my clothing, and his hand felt different, somehow. His fingers paused to tease my nipple and then he squeezed it. I thought I might pee my pants right then and there. I'd never felt anything like that. I must have made a noise, because my mom came running into the room and asked what happened. He told her my nipples were developing and then pulled my top up to show her. My nipples had never gotten hard before. It was amazing."

"And your mother didn't seem to mind that he was exploring your nipples?"

"I'd have to say no. I didn't know what was happening to me then, but I remember her telling him not to be too hard on me, and that I was at a vulnerable stage in my life. I didn't even know what 'vulnerable' meant. I even said that, and he said he'd explain it all to me."

"And did he?"

"I don't know how long it actually was, but it seemed like he spent hours and hours during the next couple of years teaching me all about my body, and what was going on inside it. I learned about my menstrual cycle from him, and why my breasts reacted the way they did to the various things he did to them. It was amazing how he could rub them one way and it just felt good, and then he'd rub them a different way and I'd get all antsy and worked up. It wasn't until I was fifteen that he taught me what to do when I got worked up like that."

"He taught you?"

"He showed me. I didn't say this earlier, but after he started rubbing my breasts, whenever I had cramps, and he was rubbing my belly, sometimes his hand would slide down between my legs. Not far between them, but more like his fingertips would barely reach my clitoris. Of course I didn't know what a clitoris even was, then. It's hard to describe. He didn't fondle me. Not really. It's more like he included my pubic mound in the massage he was giving my belly. I liked it, though.

“ Then, when I was 15, and we had discussed all the things that were happening in me, the only thing we'd talked about that I didn't really understand was the orgasm. He told me I needed to ask my mother what an orgasm was like and when I did that, she got all flustered and said I should talk to Uncle Bob. So I went back to him and he said he'd help me have one, so I'd know what it was like."

"And this was all right with your mother?"

"She stood there and watched it!"

"You sound shocked."

"I wasn't then. Everything seemed completely normal then. I didn't realize how strange all that was until I was a senior in my school."

"And when you realized how strange that was for him to do those things to you, how did that make you feel about him?"

"Between the first and second semesters of my senior year, during the holidays, I confronted him about it," she said.

"And what did he say?"

"He said he loved me."

"There are many kinds of love, and even at that young age you must have known that. Did that confuse you?"

"Not really. I knew he didn't mean he was in love with me. Not romantic love. But I also knew that his love was ... special. It wasn't like the way anybody else loved me."

"Can you describe that?"

"This is hard. There's so much to think about. I'm having trouble putting it into words."

"Why don't you just ramble, then, and I'll simply listen."

"Okay," she said.

But she didn't continue speaking. He remained silent, assuming she was thinking.

"The first time I learned that uncles don't normally do the things he'd done to me, that uncles aren't supposed to do them, was at a slumber party. The word 'pervert' was bandied about in discussions about men who touch young girls like that. What complicated that was that my mother, who I knew loved me more than anything else in her life, hadn't been concerned about it at all. She even approved! So part of that conversation ... argument ... there isn't really a good term for it ... part of that marathon discussion we had when I confronted the two of them about it, was about why my mother allowed him to touch me like that."

The psychiatrist stayed quiet.

"She told me that sooner or later every girl discovers her body, and how it can be touched to create pleasure. She said that usually happens on dates with boys who are just as confused and inexperienced as the girl is, and that things can go terribly wrong in those situations. I understood what she meant, because of the stories I'd heard from other girls. She said she preferred that my initial education about my body be supervised by Uncle Bob, who she knew we could both trust."

She subsided for so long that the doctor eventually had to speak.

"Yet, from what you've said, all he ever did was touch your breasts and give you one orgasm. Is that correct? Was it only one orgasm?"

"Yes. Up to the point where I confronted them, that was all that had happened." she said.

"You said, 'Up to that point.' Does that mean your ... education ... proceeded after this conversation?"

"Oh yeah," she sighed. "I think maybe that's when Uncle Bob actually ruined me for other men."

"What did he do?"

"Oh ... only everything. Well, everything except fuck me." Her head rolled and her green eyes stared at him unflinchingly. "Am I allowed to use vulgar words in these sessions?"

"Use whatever words best express what you're feeling," he said, gently.

"Okay then. He did everything except fuck me."

"How comfortable would you feel being more specific than using the word 'everything'?" asked the doctor.

"As I said, it was a long conversation. It lasted all night. It's hard to remember in terms of being able to relate it in the order everything was said. And I found out things that turned my world upside down. Such as the fact that Uncle Bob had been sleeping with my mother ever since my father took off."

"I can see how that might be rough," said the doctor, softly.

"What made it rough was that I felt stupid. I got straight A's in school, but hadn't figured out what it really meant that Uncle Bob was there for breakfast so often. We had a guest bedroom, and he had some clothes and stuff in there. I always just assumed that's where he slept. A lot of things became clear quite suddenly, and I felt stupid because I thought I should have figured it out much sooner."

"Were you angry? They were engaged in incest. Did you feel betrayed?"

"No. I wouldn't say that. I think I got it. I mean he helped her feel better at a time when she was as low as you can get. And he'd helped me feel better all those times. He was sort of in the business of helping us both feel better. He didn't live with us. He had a job that he went to every day and all that. But if we needed him, he was there. I knew he loved both of us and since I couldn't imagine how his love for me could be bad, I couldn't imagine his love for my mother was bad either. I think part of it was that I had heard my girlfriends say so many things that sounded either stupid or just flat wrong, that it was easy to believe they were wrong about how wrong it was for an uncle to do things with his niece."

"You said it was during that conversation that he ruined you for other men," prompted the doctor.

"To be precise, I should probably say it was afterwards, though that all-nighter did get things started."

"I thought things were already started."

"Up to that point, as I said before, all he ever did was tease me a little and give me one orgasm. He did that with his fingers. He had never kissed me, or used his mouth on me."

"Obviously, your implication is that, after this long confrontation, he did both of those," prompted the doctor.

"He did."

"Is that all you feel comfortable saying?"

"Why, Doctor, am I to understand you wish to hear all the sordid little details?"

"You said he ruined you. It might help to understand exactly what he did to make you feel the way you do."

"Or it could be that hearing stuff like this has turned you into a bit of a pervert?"

"Jennifer. If you feel my interest in you is perverted, then I can only suggest you seek another therapist to assist you."

"I didn't say that. I was only suggesting it must be difficult for a man to hear lurid details about that sort of thing. As I recall you did say I was beautiful. And you're a man, underneath that cool exterior and all those framed degrees on the walls. I may be relatively inexperienced when it comes to men, but I know what men want."

"What I want is for you to resolve your feelings about this uncle," said the doctor, firmly.

Again her head turned, and bright eyes pinned to his.

"Well, that would be easy. All he'd have to do is fuck my socks off and I'm sure I'd be cured."

"I don't want to sound judgemental, but you're already aware that some people in this culture would disapprove of that course of action. And let's not be hasty," said the doctor. "I'd really like to hear more about these feelings that have developed for this man, and what caused them."

"You mean things like that he used his mouth to give me an orgasm? Or that he put his finger inside me while he sucked my nipples, giving me a whole string of orgasms? Or that he got me a vibrator and taught me how to use it? Or that, eventually, I got to see him making love to my mother, giving her what I wanted him to give me so desperately? It could take hours and hours to describe in detail what he did to me and how I came to feel about him the way I do. I'm willing to tell you all this, but I'm not a wealthy woman."

The doctor stared back at her. He felt a very unprofessional movement of blood into his groin and seized on her reference to the expense of time to try to distract him from the images that flitted through his mind.

"I'm considering these Saturday meetings to be one session," he said.

"Meaning you're only going to charge me for one hour?"

"Each Saturday ... yes," he said.

"Then I suppose we have hours and hours for me to give you all the dirty little details ... don't we?"

"I feel this is important. I sense we're making progress."

"Oh? What kind of progress have you detected?"

"You've already suggested a way to resolve your issues."

"You mean get my socks fucked off by Uncle Bob?"

"Yes. Not that I think that's the best resolution, but you're already thinking in terms of dealing with your emotions for him."

"Oh, I've wanted him to fuck my socks off ever since then," sighed the patient. "He just won't. That's the whole problem. I compare every man I go out with to him, and none of them can compete with him."

"Admittedly, this ... crush ... you have on your uncle is troublesome, particularly since it has lasted so long. Do you have any idea why he is so resistant to your ... wishes?"

"He seems to be very much concerned about pregnancy."

"There are many ways, these days, to inhibit conception," said the doctor.

"He won't use any of them. Nor will I."

"May I inquire as to why?"

"Him, or me?" she asked.

"Both," he said.

"Him, because he says that's what making love is for, and it's unnatural to try to prevent it. Me, because if anybody is ever going to get me pregnant, I want it to be him."