. me. Rather, I cannot see those hands and not yearn to feel them retracing the journey his eyes only began. He knows it, too. He can feel me squirm, ...nd deprives me of what I want. A grin upon his lips as he questions, tauntingly, "Is there something wrong, love? Are you uncomfortable? I can move, if you'd like.." He makes as if he is going to leave me, needingly, alone. I grasp both his hands, crossing my arms against my torso. Glancing over my shoulder at him, I glare at with only my eyes -. Marge didn't know if she was talking with a pervert or someone with physical, mental or marital problems. Everyone looked so normal. No one talked about their sexual deficiencies. The next meeting was scheduled for a month later. In the interim, Marge hadn't met with her therapist, but she had applied her own therapy using the toys Dr. Sigberg had prescribed. The room for the second meeting had a distinctively different look. Chairs were arranged in a circle with name tags at each chair,. More

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