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We say goodbye to her, and I sink back into the pillows.
Parker sits on top of me, his knees on either side of my hips. “Hm? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He strokes my cheek with his uninjured hand. “You look deep in thought.”
Nodding, I run my hand over his thighs. “Yeah. I’m wondering if it’s as simple as Valentina says and if I should do the same. If I’m making myself guilty by not fighting back.”
Parker shakes his head vehemently. “No. Every story is different. You can’t compare yourself to Valentina. You work in an environment that assumes you can’t do your job properly because of your sexual orientation. As a woman, Valentina is always in the media’s crosshairs, always facing whether she’s good enough. In every respect. What you two share is the injustice of people meddling in your lives who have no business being there. But every path is different; every person is different. Each person has to find their own way to deal with this particular situation you’re in. I’m happy for Valentina that she’s managing to get what’s good for her out of it. But that doesn’t have to apply to you.”
Nodding, I continue to stroke his legs, all the way up to his groin. “Her words give me something to think about.”
“Of course. But don’t let it stress you out, whatever you decide.”
“Okay.”
He smiles. “What’s the plan for today?”
“With what?”
Parker leans forward slightly and rubs his cock against mine.
“Mmm.” I lift my hips and pull down my pants. “You have to stay still and enjoy it.”
“Oh, wow. What a punishment. I’ll see if I can manage that.” He gets down on his knees, and I pull on his waistband. Together, we free him from his clothes too.
I firmly take both of our erections in my hand and stroke us. Up. Down. Smearing the pre-cum over our tips.
Parker closes his eyes, and I can’t take my gaze off him. The way he writhes beneath me, opening his mouth with pleasure.
The sensation of being connected to him is more beautiful than any orgasm. Delaying it is an agonizing pleasure until Parker’s energetic rolling of his hips pushes us over the edge.
Silvia watches me patiently through the screen. “Is there a specific topic you want to talk about today?”
Dammit, I don’t even know myself. Parker is still sleeping in my bed. I’d love to go back there right now. “The playoffs aren’t a time when I have the mental capacity to think about anything.”
She nods.
“But I’m afraid that once all this stress subsides, because there’s so much going on in my life right now, the panic attacks will come back.”
“You haven’t had any in years, have you?” my therapist asks me.
“No, I would have told you. But it reminds me of the time when they first started.”
She nods again. “Good. During your playoff season, we can work on things that won’t completely throw you off track but will give you some space to let off steam. You know, there is a risk, that something could trigger you and set off a bigger episode.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. Still, that can happen from time to time, right?”
“Of course. Our brain is a complex structure. We don’t function in a certain direction at the push of a button.”
“Exactly. You’ve already explained that.” I look down at my hands on the table. “Can we talk about the price we pay for freedom?”
Silvia nods. “Of course. That’s a broad topic. What prompted that question?”
“A conversation with a friend.”
“Would you like to narrow it down a bit?”
