Here is a new Story I am trying out, I hope you enjoy it!

Sam Evans rubbed his temples as he sat across from Jane Hayward, his current therapist. His mother had suggested he get some when she realized how deep his issues ran, betrayal, pain, loss. He had been through it all, and she said he needed to get help before he blew her chance to have a grandchild before she died.

At first, he thought it was funny, he was fine. Still, after a drunken night of drowning his sorrows after a date and after a run-in with an old friend, who reminded him of his pains and a hole in the wall of the bar, Sam was sentenced to anger management Therapy.

Though he felt better off not dealing with anyone, the judge assigned him, Jane, thinking she could help him with his issues.

So now he was stuck in front of this woman, for two hours once a week, airing his dirty laundry and feeling like a complete ass as he sat there telling his therapist that he couldn't go out or hook up with a woman because his ex-wife occupied his mind.

Whenever a beautiful woman looked his way, he compared her to his wife. Then, after the regret washes away, he is stuck thinking about the one woman he loved and the one woman who betrayed him. Betrayed their marriage.

The truth was, he knew he'd be better off forgiving her and moving on, but he couldn't, and it wasn't his ego that held him back from this task; it was his bruised pride.

As a man who thought he did everything for his wife to ensure a happy marriage, it was gone. His mind went to the night he found out the truth, the night he realized that another man had invaded his safe space.

His anger began to surface, and he forced his eyes shut, squeezing them until they hurt so he could forget. But the images still danced and played in his mind.

They shouldn't be there, as he didn't actually see the deed, but that didn't matter; he still saw his ex-wife being pleasured by another man in their home, on their bed.

Sam's hands gripped the armrest of the couch as various positions flashed off her and a man who he thought was his friend, engaging in round after round after round of hot, passionate sex.

That was the part that frustrated him most, thinking of how many times his wife and his friend had sex because he knew just how long she could go and just how fucking much she gave when she did.

"Sam?" Jane, his therapist, asked. Her tone was calm, too calm, and too understanding.

He finally opened his eyes to look at her. "Yeah… repeat the question."

The woman looked at him over her glasses, her dark eyes reminding him of his ex's. Her brown skin was just as beautiful but lacked his ex's subtle glow. As he looked her over, he wouldn't deny she was attractive.

And had he been a selfish man, he was sure he could get lost in her for a few hours, but he wouldn't be satisfied.

Thinking back to their first session and then the next one a week later, her attire had changed quite a bit. At the first meeting, she came off as a bit of a prude, wearing a black pantsuit with a white shirt. Her hair was in a tight bun, but he noticed that by the end of the session, her curly hair was out and free.

The next session, she was wearing a short shirt instead of pants, her flat ballet slippers had changed into three-inch wedges, and her makeup was bolder than before. By this appointment, which was the third one, she was now wearing a red tank top dress that zipped up the side and a black blazer to match. Her hair was a mess atop her head in curls, and her shoes were now five-inch heels.

It might have seemed weird to know all that stuff about clothing, but being married to a fashion designer made you acutely aware of how others dressed and when they started changing their style.

She'd taught him that. She also taught him the game women play and how their clothes are a dead giveaway of their feelings about themselves and the people around them.

He scuffed, picking at his nails, wincing slightly when he pulled up his skin. His mind always went to her, no matter his thoughts.

"Sam? I asked, what exactly about your ex-wife has you comparing every woman to her." Jane repeated, and he saw it. The light tick of her right eye, the slight curve of her lips. She knew the answer, but she wanted him to say it. Correction is needed. She needed him to say it.

Groaning, he inhaled. He hated it when people knew the answer but needed confirmation. His mind went to the things he knew, like he knew that his ex had changed based on the very things she'd taught him. Her dresses became tighter, her heels more sexier, and her lingerie more elaborate. The slinky black and purple lace thong number he found in her drawer was so far from the boy shorts and bra she wore the first time.

Cheater.

His mind whispered. That word never crossed his mind about her before that night. Before that night, he would have bet everything in his bank account that his wife was the most faithful and loving.

But that's what she was. In all her sexy, beautiful glory, with her big doe eyes, deep brown skin, and those luscious lips. Then you add on her infectious smile, addicting smile, and the way she breathed his name while they made love.

His heart broke as he continued thinking about how she'd hug him after a long day, nipping at his lips before going on about her day, or how she fit right into his arms as they cuddled on the couch watching movies.

Cheater.

His mind said louder, only this time he watched as his therapist slowly lowered her crossed leg before crossing the other in what he was sure was an attempt to be seductive.

He frowned; as tempting as she wanted to be, his dick only yawned at the not-so-subtle invitation.

Finally breaking his silence, he looked at her. "She had something extraordinary about her that I haven't seen in anyone else."

Slowly nodding her head, he could tell she was expecting something else. "Care to elaborate?"

Sighing as he leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the leather sofa. "How do you mean?" He knew what she meant; he just didn't want to go into it.

Jane ran her tongue over her bottom lips slowly before she spoke. "Was her smile special? Her personality? What was that special thing?" Jane pushed.

Sam really didn't want to do this. "Does it have to be just one thing?"

"Well, no, but you made it seem like it was one specific thing," she said in a low, sultry voice.

He could feel her desire for him to say the real reason. "Everything about her was specifically special."

Jane sighed loudly. "Mr. Evans, if you cannot be forthcoming with me, then I can not help you move forward."

"Fine," Sam said, leaning forward and looking straight into her eyes. She wanted the truth; she would get the truth. "Her pussy was the deepest well that I got to swim in and the sweetest nectar I ever tasted. Having her thighs wrapped around my head was the most tantalizing.

"Her mouth was pure gold, and what she could do with it was unmatched; being with her was like a religious experience. Her laughter was such a heavenly sound, and when she looked at me, my world stopped on its axis; I could feel it from outer space. That woman, she held my heart in a vice grip."

Jane glared at him, lips wrapped around her pen, as she listened to him word for word. After a moment, she pulled back, trying to stay on task. "You always refer to your ex as 'she' or 'her.' Is saying her name hard?"

"No, I say it often… when I'm pleasuring myself because my mind and dick will only respond to her name." He frowned.

Jane exhaled as she moved beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder... "Mr. Evans, have you ever thought about...sex therapy? It will allow you to explore others and not be tied down by your ex; many of my clients find it useful."

Sam stared at her; they were only a few inches apart. "You didn't hear what I said, so I'll make it clear." He said, shoving her hand off his shoulder. "A woman could be on her knees, sucking my dick, making it feel like the best head I've ever had, but I won't cum unless I see Mercedes's eyes looking back at me.

"I can't get off, so I close my eyes and imagine her riding me or me fucking her breathlessly. Then and only then am I able to release."

Jane moved from his side to her chair. "Okay, well, if you feel that way and you two had a loving relationship, where did it go wrong?"

"She…" Sam stopped; he never said those words out loud.

"She what, Sam?"

"Mercedes Jones-Evans cheated with my best friend and got pregnant," Sam growled.

Jane removed her glasses, placing the left temple of her glasses between her lips. "Tell me, Sam, if she was all that, how did you get to her cheating?"

"How the hell should I know? I get it. I was busy with law school, but my girl was with my best friend?" He frowned.

"Oh, so you walked in on her with him?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I didn't see them hooking up, I was told about it."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "You were told? Your friend bragged to you?"

Sam laughed. "Ha, that coward, no, he denied it. But the proof was the DNA test."

Jane shook her head. "Wait, wait. DNA, so she had the baby?"

Sam looked at her. "What does it matter?"

"You may think it doesn't, but it does." Jane uncrossed her thighs and stood, walking to her desk and bending over it for a moment. Looking back, she found Sam more focused on his nails than on her.

Grabbing a bottle of water, she moved to sit back down, but not before she removed her blazer and ruffled her hair. "Let's go back to the beginning. Tell me how you met your ex-wife."