Therapy Made Me Addicted To My Stepdad’s Cock And His Doctor’s Cum Novel – Chapter 1 I sat on the soft leather couch in the therapist’s office, my knees pressed tightly together while my fingers twisted nervously in my lap. The room was supposed to feel soothing with its gentle beige walls, soft abstract paintings in calming tones, a tall potted plant in the corner, and warm light from the dim lamps. Yet nothing about this moment felt peaceful. My stepdad, Ryan, sat at the far end of the couch, his powerful frame dominating the space, arms folded across his broad chest, jaw clenched tight. He had on a crisp button-down shirt that stretched over his strong shoulders and jeans that clung to his muscular thighs.
He refused to meet my eyes. Dr. Grant leaned back comfortably in his armchair facing us, a notepad resting on his knee as his pen tapped rhythmically. In his late forties, he was tall and lean with distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and piercing blue eyes behind sleek glasses. His voice always carried that smooth, commanding tone that drew you in whether you wanted it or not. We had been coming here for two weeks now. Mom had demanded it after catching Ryan and me in yet another heated argument, yelling about boundaries, privacy, and silly things like me walking around the house in shorts. She claimed there was too much “tension” building between us, and it had to be fixed before it tore the family apart. Ryan had grumbled but eventually agreed. I didn’t have much of a say in it.
The early sessions had stayed pretty standard. We talked about better ways to communicate, the resentment I still carried from when he married Mom six years ago, and how I was now eighteen, still trying to adjust to everything. But today felt completely different. Dr. Grant’s gaze lingered on me longer than usual, tracing the way my sundress hugged my curves and how the hem slid higher up my thighs whenever I crossed my legs. “So,” Dr. Grant said, his voice low and steady, “we have covered the surface problems. The arguments. The awkwardness whenever you two are in the same room. But I believe the real issue runs much deeper. Sexual tension. Unresolved attraction.” My stomach plummeted. Ryan shifted beside me, clearing his throat as he tried to anchor himself. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ryan muttered. “She’s my stepdaughter.” Dr. Grant raised an eyebrow. “Denial is very common in situations like this.
But the body doesn’t lie. I have seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching. And Ava, I have noticed how you provoke him with your choice of clothes and that defiant attitude of yours.” Heat rushed up my neck and flooded my cheeks. I opened my mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, he wasn’t completely wrong. Ryan was incredibly handsome in that rugged, masculine way, with those strong hands and a rich, deep voice that sometimes made my belly flutter in ways I knew were completely forbidden. And yes, I had started wearing shorter shorts around the house when he was there, secretly hoping he would notice me. Dr. Grant set his notepad down and leaned forward, his expression serious. “Traditional talk therapy is not going to fix this. We need to be direct. A form of exposure therapy.” Ryan frowned deeply. “What exactly does that mean?” Dr. Grant stood up and walked over to the door. I heard the decisive click of the lock turning.
“It means we face this tension directly,” he said, turning back to us. “Ava, stand up.” My heart hammered wildly in my chest. I glanced over at Ryan, who looked just as lost and confused as I felt. I rose slowly, the sundress brushing softly against my thighs. “Take off your dress,” Dr. Grant instructed calmly. I froze in place. “What?”