My name is James Weston. I have been feeling so much better after spending the past eight months working to improve my mental health. I can’t say that the process was always easy, though. I can recall one specific session, at the midway point of treatment, that helped move me forward.

I sat in the waiting room at the university counseling center; it was an archetype of what one might expect from a college clinic. There was beige wallpaper, a few pictures of trees and rivers on the walls, lifestyle magazines splayed across a battered table, and a water cooler in the corner. I was sitting on the couch, thumbing through a copy of Time magazine from two years ago.

“James, you can head back now,” said the friendly receptionist.

I navigated through the hallway to the last office. The plastic name placard to the right of the door read: “Alex Nilsson, MS.” The door was ajar with the light on. I pushed it open and proceeded to enter.

The office was on the smaller side, with an oversized, boxy, gray chair facing the door. A simple circular table was next to the chair; it had a clipboard, pen, and water bottle.

I settled into the black pleather loveseat with my back to the door. On the table to my left was a box of tissues, a small clock, and a Rubik’s cube. I picked up the toy and started to play with it. I don’t remember why; I had never completed one of them in my life.

I felt a hand press my shoulder as the door creaked behind me.

“It’s good to see you, James,” Alex said. “Sorry, you had to let yourself in. I had to take a call between sessions.”

His hand left my shoulder, and I was sad to feel it go. He walked across the small office and sat on the gray chair.

Alex was the kind of guy to whom I had always been attracted. At 6’3,” he was much taller than me. He had a muscular frame; you could see his defined biceps through his clothing. Today, he wore a fitted periwinkle dress shirt, charcoal-colored dress pants, and a black leather belt with matching dress shoes.

I was unsure of his age, but I had ascertained through various comments that he was in his late twenties. I knew he had completed his master’s degree and finished his doctorate in psychology.

Alex had tussled, sandy-blond hair that he wore in a side part. His green eyes reminded me of a lush forest. He had a broad, well-defined jaw. His skin was fair; he had one thin line that would become increasingly defined on his forehead when his face expressed concern. His large, dazzling smile revealed two small dimples when it reached total wattage.

“No worries,” I said, pointedly returning the Rubik’s cube to the table. “I always find a way to keep myself occupied.”

At 19 years old, I was just starting the spring semester of my sophomore year. I had struggled with anxiety since high school but had never sought treatment. A few months prior, I’d had a minor anxiety attack. My best friend had recommended I go to the university counseling center since undergraduates had access to free sessions with a therapist-in-training.

Initially, I was nervous about having a guy for a therapist. I had always felt more understood by the women in my life; my dad and brothers were not the types to discuss their emotions. I think I’d been even more nervous because my closest male friend had shunned me after coming out as gay during my junior year of high school.

Upon first meeting Alex, I could tell he was a “guy’s guy.” He had asked me what sports I played when inquiring about my hobbies, and he’d talked about how he, too, had worked on cars with his father when he was a teenager. He’d also mentioned that he would marry his girlfriend in about six months.

I remember being worried at first that he would not be able to relate to any of my experiences or that he might reject me, but he’d quickly won me over. He would tell me it was customary to be sad, afraid, and even cry. He even talked about how he’d struggled to accept that it was okay to do the latter for many years because he’d been raised.

I’d continued to keep myself guarded, though. Then, one day, Alex asked if I had a boyfriend. We had never talked explicitly about my sexuality up to that point. During the first session, he had previously asked if I “had a girlfriend,” and I’d vaguely replied that I was single. Alex had disclosed that he had been reflecting on our sessions and realized he had made an assumption, so he wanted to ask again in a less “heteronormative” way. I assumed he must have a queer mentor to be tossing out a term like that.

I’d told Alex about my experiences with coming out and being rejected. He’d been empathetic and had provided validation of what I had gone through. We’d talked about how my anxiety had increased around the time I came out gay. I had become so worried about others seeing me as defective that I’d started to be fearful of taking up space in specific contexts, especially in situations where I worried that I would be judged for my sexuality. That first month allowed us to build the foundation needed for our later work.

Alex picked up the clipboard and placed it on his lap.

“How are you doing today?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I slept in a little this morning. I have been working on a paper for my economics class, so I stayed late last night. I had to have some coffee this morning.”

Alex tilted his head and gave a little nod.

“I know. We talked about how caffeine impacts my anxiety. I promise it won’t start to become a regular thing again.”

“I appreciate the insight,” Alex replied with a slight smile. “Let’s jump right into setting our agenda. I’m not going to let us get off track this time.”

I knew what he would ask, and I felt my heart beating quickly in my chest. I looked away, shifting my focus to the clock on the table next to me.

“So, did you do the homework?” he inquired. “Exposure can only lead to change if we are willing to push through the initial resistance and face what we fear head-on.”

“I did the assignment I had been working on before,” I replied. “The one where I use the swimming pool at the athletic center.”

“Okay, so tell me about that.”

I could see that he was taking a few notes on his pad. He seemed less interested in what I was saying than he had been in the past. I wondered if he was disappointed in me.

“Well, I went to the gym two times last week. I still felt some anxiety when the time to go there approached. About an hour before, I started to think of reasons I should just not do it, like having to work on projects and telling myself that not going is not that big of a deal.”

“Where do you think that attempt to reason with yourself came from?”

“I know we’ve talked about avoidance. I’m sure my anxiety made it, so I was looking for reasons to avoid what is making me afraid.”

Alex rubbed his hand against his defined jaw as he nodded in agreement with my self-assessment. I hoped that meant he thought I was making progress.

“When I was walking to the athletic center,” I continued, “I kept thinking about how everybody would be staring at me and judging me. I still pushed myself to go, though. I had the hardest time when I was changing in the locker room. I kept worrying that the towel would fall from my waist as I changed into my swim trunks underneath it.”

“What would have happened if the towel had fallen, James?” Alex asked in a gentle tone.

“Everyone would have stared at me, and then I would have started to panic. I even imagined myself passing out naked in front of all those people.”

I felt a shiver go through my body as I again pictured myself in that scenario. I had imagined myself lying on the floor, unconscious, with my body exposed. The other men in the locker room looked at my unimpressive body, wondering what to do. I played out how some of them would rush over, getting an even better view of my shortcomings.

I tried to redirect my attention back to Alex by focusing on his soft, pillowy lips as he spoke.

“James, we’ve talked about this before. Those people aren’t watching you while you change. That’s the ‘spotlight effect,’ remember? We tend to overestimate how much other people are paying attention to us.”

I nodded. I knew he was right; everything he said made sense in these sessions, but I felt like it slipped away when I was out in the real world.

Alex uncrossed his legs and spread them far apart. I looked at his inner thighs; the fabric of his pants pulled tightly against them. They looked dense. I saw the outline of a small band pressing against that same fabric a few inches from his inseam. I wondered if it was the hem of his underwear.

“The more we engage with the exposure activities and move up the hierarchy, the more we can push back against the underlying cognitive distortions,” he reiterated.

Alex placed his clipboard on the table and leaned forward toward me. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone; I could see a bit of his sparse, sandy-blond chest hair.

“We both know you have social anxiety, James. Part of it stems from your maladaptive core beliefs about your body. We have discussed how your body is normal, and it’s something about which you should have pride.”

“I don’t think all of it is normal,” I replied in a defeated tone. “I think that is just something we say to comfort ourselves.”

“How tall are you?” he asked.

“Five-eleven,” I responded.

“Weight?”

“A hundred and eighty pounds.”

“Do you have any physical limitations or congenital deformities?”

“No,” I said, knowing what he was trying to accomplish.

“So, what is it that makes you so abnormal?”

I felt my heart begin to race. I’d never said the words, even though I suspected he knew the source of my insecurity. That was worse, somehow. It was like he knew the thing and that I was right to be insecure because I was abnormal.

My face began to flush, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“You are going to think I am crazy,” I said. I took a long pause.” I don’t think I can do this.”

“I promise you I won’t think you’re crazy,” he said gently. “It can be frightening to share things about ourselves, especially when they make us feel so much shame.”

“I think I have a small penis,” I blurted out in a whisper.

Alex nodded his head and furrowed his brow. I could see the small crease deepen on his forehead.

“You aren’t alone,” he replied. His tone was serious and professional. “I talk to guys about their insecurities every day. A lot of them worry about how they measure up. I think porn has given us unrealistic expectations of what is normal regarding penis size.”

“Maybe,” I said, averting my eyes.

“How many inches long is it?” he asked.

I couldn’t believe what he was asking; had I misheard him? A wave of nausea overtook me. My breathing became a little shallow. I wasn’t sure if I could reply.

Alex leaned forward a little more; he placed his hand on my left knee. I felt a shockwave from my knee’s nerve endings to the ones in my groin. My scrotum pulled tighter against my body. Alex had only ever shaken my hand or patted me on the shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, looking directly into my eyes. “Just breathe.”

I inhaled deeply while counting to five in my head, then exhaled.

“About five inches,” I said. I realized I needed to offer some clarification. “…when it’s hard. Three inches when it’s soft.”

“That’s not abnormal,” he said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Recent studies have found that the average length of an erect penis is somewhere between five and six inches.”

I could feel myself blushing. I struggled to accept that he was talking about this topic; it felt taboo. I had never brought it up because I didn’t think I could handle having this discussion. Alex lifted his hand from my knee and slid back into his previous position on his chair. I wondered if they had sensed my growing discomfort, causing him to pull away.

“So even if your towel were to fall, nobody would mock you,” he said. “Hearing this, I assume you didn’t move up the hierarchy to your next goal?”

I shook my head from side to side, indicating that he was correct.

“James, you have been stuck on this next exposure activity for three weeks. I’m so proud of you for confronting a trigger head-on by going to the pool, but you’re getting stuck. Tell me what your next task was again?”

“I was supposed to take a five-minute shower, at least once, after working out at the gym.”

“And you know why this is important, right?” Alex asked. “Each time you back away from this next activity, the anxiety grows. And it reinforces this maladaptive belief that something is wrong with your body.”

I nodded, making an effort to meet his gaze. There was a kind, gentle expression on his face. I felt like he genuinely cared about me.

Alex unbuttoned the sleeves of his dress shirt. He carefully rolled the fabric up, leaving his forearms exposed. They were covered in the same soft, sandy-blond hair as his chest; they were vascular, with a few prominent blue lines bulging on each arm.

“What was our rule about homework? We talked about it when we first started treatment.”

“I don’t remember,” I said, which was only partly true.

“We agreed that if you avoided a specific homework activity for more than three sessions, we would use our time together to tackle it as a team. We mustn’t enable avoidance in our work.”

I was confused. I was unsure what he was talking about or what he wanted from me. I could understand him forcing me to fill out a record of my cognitive distortions in session if I hadn’t completed it, but what could be done about me failing at something like this?

“Do you have your student ID on you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, wondering why that was important.

“Let’s go do your homework then,” he said, standing from the chair.

I followed him, still perplexed about what was happening. I trailed him by a few feet until we left the building. Once we stepped outside, he turned around, closed the distance, placed his hand on my shoulder, and looked me in the eyes.

“The athletic center is right over there,” he said. “It’s only a two-minute walk. We have enough time to go there and have you do your homework before the hour is up.”

My eyes widened. I started to inhale frantically. I felt like someone had just dropped a ton of bricks on my chest. I didn’t think he could be serious but was nevertheless afraid he was.

I imagined myself in the shower, struggling to breathe and feeling dizzy. I could see everyone nearby watching, wondering if I was crazy. I envisioned myself falling to the floor and hearing someone call for help. I pictured Alex running into the showers, still fully dressed in his professional attire.

I pictured him looking down at my pathetic body as he towered over me, the water from the shower falling on him, making his periwinkle shirt transparent. I could imagine the fabric clinging to his defined biceps and accentuating his small nipples as he stared at my crotch. I could hear him saying, “Wow, it is small. I thought you were just being self-conscious, but guess I was wrong,” as I started to pass out.

“Just breathe,” the real Alex instructed. “Remember, inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth.”

Alex waited while I spent a minute regulating my breathing pattern. He modeled the right pace so that I could focus on him rather than trying to count in my head.

“I can’t do this, Alex,” I pleaded. “You saw it; I almost just had a panic attack. I’m going to freak out in the shower and not be able to breathe. I’m going to pass out in front of everybody.”

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. I didn’t think I would be able to hold back the rest.

Alex lifted his hand from my shoulder; he used his soft thumb to wipe the tear from my face. He positioned his hand under my chin to direct my gaze from the ground back into his forest-green eyes.

“Okay,” he said simply. “We will do this together then. I’ll come with you, so I’ll be there to help you if you feel too overwhelmed. That way, you know you aren’t getting to where your biggest fear becomes a reality and will not let you pass out.”

I didn’t know what I felt hearing him say this. I knew I liked that he cared about me enough to reassure me, and I was also frightened. I believed he would do his best to support me, but I questioned my ability to do the same for myself.

“You trust me, right?” he asked.

“Yes, I trust you,” I responded, feeling a sudden sense of calm push back against the anxiety.

Alex moved to stand at my side. He wrapped his large arm across the back of my shoulders. I could feel his muscular bicep as it slid past the nape of my neck. We walked over to the athletic center together.

We were in the men’s locker room within two minutes of arriving. The walk over from the counseling center was already a blur. I followed Alex to the lockers near the end of the room; they were positioned next to the entrance to the communal showers.

Alex opened one of the lockers. A few other people were coming and going nearby, but I was trying not to focus on them. Luckily, it was a time of day when things were a little less busy since most students were either in class or eating lunch.

“Okay,” he said, “I am going to grab a towel for you. I’ll turn the other way while you undress. The showers are only ten feet away from here. If you take the one closest to the entrance, I can still speak with you from around the corner. I can check in to see how you are doing and help you with your breathing if you begin to struggle.”

I stood there as Alex went to grab a towel. I knew I couldn’t do this. Everyone in that shower was going to be staring at me. If my anxiety made me do anything odd, they would think I was some kind of gay pervert. My habit of engaging in predictive thinking reared its ugly head: what if I looked at one of them by accident and they thought I was checking them out? What if they freaked out? What if I freaked out?

Alex returned; he placed the towel inside the open locker. I could feel my anxiety growing as any former sense of calm slipped away.

Alex turned so that his back was facing me. I rapidly took off my shirt and stuck it in the locker. I was less ashamed of my torso. I tried to lift weights and exercise regularly. I had moderately sized biceps, although nothing massive. I had unblemished, pale skin with no hair on my chest. I had lightly defined ab muscles; below them, a small trail of dark hair led down from my belly button into my pants.

I fumbled to undo the button on my jeans; my hands shook. When the button came undone, I started to hyperventilate.

“I can’t do this,” I whimpered.

Alex turned around. He could see that I was taking shallow breaths and shaking. “Focus on your breath; in through the nose and out through the mouth.”

I was trying, but I felt like I couldn’t slow my breathing. I was having a hard time getting the air I needed.

“You’re breathing into your chest,” Alex said. “Pull the air down into your diaphragm.” He placed one of his hands over my pecs and the other across my abs.

I flinched since I had not been expecting physical contact. His hands were soft and firm; they were warm against my skin. After my initial shock wore off, I found that I could use them as focal points. I worked to pull the air towards the hand on my abs, and I felt it rub me every time I inhaled. After a few minutes, I was able to breathe normally again.

Alex removed his hands from my torso and placed one on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. He gave a reassuring nod and smiled softly.

“You did an excellent job. Remember that you control your body; it doesn’t control you.”

“I can’t do this,” I repeated. “I can’t go in there alone. I’m shaking so badly that I can’t even take off the rest of my clothes.”

“We can do this together. I’ll help you with the jeans.”

I felt another wave of nausea hit me. I wondered if Alex would strip me in front of all these people? I realized how stupid it sounded as soon as it came into my head. He could end up seeing more of me than I wanted, though. I could picture him helping me remove my tight jeans and looking down at the loose fabric in the front of my boxer briefs. I was sure he would wonder why there wasn’t more definition like one would expect from an average-sized penis.

Alex wrapped the towel around my waist just above the top of my jeans. He sat down on the wood bench in front of me. He made sure that he kept his eyes focused on my face. He maneuvered his hands between the opening in the front of the towel. He unfastened the zipper and placed a hand on each side of my body near my hips. I could feel him pulling the denim into his clenching fists.

I felt a stirring in my groin. I had always thought Alex was attractive, but I had tried to stop viewing him in that light once we’d gotten deeper into therapy. Seeing him this way was turning me on like never before. He was so caring, and he was still hot as fuck.

Alex slowly tugged at the fabric; it started to slide down my body. I kicked off my sandals and stepped out of the jeans. Alex folded them and set them on the bench.

“Done. I will let you do the underwear yourself since we have gotten past the buttons and zippers,” Alex said with a slight chuckle.

I blushed a bit. Alex was sitting there looking at my torso. I was expecting him to look away like he had done earlier. I wondered if he was watching because he wanted to ensure I didn’t freak out again. It was nice to think that he could care about me in that way.

I felt conflicted. I didn’t want him to see me exposed, but I knew I needed his support. I asked myself how much I wanted him close by because I knew it would come at a cost. I would have to face my fear of having him see my shortcomings to avoid the worse outcome of having a panic attack in the shower in front of random strangers.

“Alex, I can’t go in there alone!” I exclaimed. “I know I can’t. You will think this is ridiculous, and I understand if you say no, but can you go in with me?”

Alex’s shoulders tensed a bit; he stood up to better look me in the eyes. He stared intently, shaking his head from side to side.

“I really can’t do that. I think it would be crossing a boundary. What we are doing now is already really unconventional. It feels like too much to see you naked.”

“But you just told me that we shouldn’t be ashamed of our bodies and that they are all normal. How can it be that being naked is okay until it isn’t all of a sudden?”

Alex sighed. “I do believe that our bodies are just bodies. I am not afraid to see you naked. I’m also not embarrassed to have you see me naked. It’s just. There are rules.”

I looked down at the floor. I knew it had been an enormous thing to ask of him. I wasn’t sure what to do or say next. I knew I wasn’t going into the shower, but I didn’t want to disappoint Alex. Tears began to well up in my eyes again.

“Fuck it!” I heard Alex proclaim.

I looked up to see a broad smile speared across his face.

“I’ve never been the best at following the rules,” he said.

Alex started to unbutton his dress shirt. He was moving his fingers deliberately down each button. I watched as his pecs began to come into view. They were bulky; I could now see the full tuft of sandy-blond hair sprouting between them. Next, I got to see his firm, dense six-pack for the first time. He pulled off the unbuttoned shirt and placed it on the bench.

I longingly gazed at Alex’s massive biceps. I wondered how often he had to go to the gym to maintain his physique. His biceps were so large that it looked like he was flexing even when his arms were resting.

Alex removed his belt. He undid the button on his dress pants. He hesitated as he started to pull the zipper. He looked up to see that I was watching him. I swiftly redirected my attention toward the locker.

“You don’t have to look away, James,” Alex stated. “Like we’ve both said, it’s just a body. I’m not ashamed of mine; you shouldn’t be ashamed of yours.”

Alex pulled down his zipper as I started to watch him again. The black fabric from his underwear came into view. Alex pushed the dress pants down over his bulky thighs; they fell to his ankles. He yanked off his shoes, ripping at the laces. He stepped out of the pants and pulled off his socks. He placed those items next to his dress shirt.

I looked at Alex with greater intensity. Seeing his appearance under all the professional attire he had been wearing to our sessions was a little weird. He was wearing tight black boxer briefs. I glanced at his crotch but tried not to look for too long. It looked like Alex must have a penis bigger than the average three inches soft based on his ample bulge.

“Okay; that wasn’t weird, right?” he said, more than asked. “We are just two guys showering at the gym.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just nodded.

Alex flashed his dazzling smile like he was trying to reassure himself. He had told me once that smiling can shift how you feel. He said that your brain starts to believe you are happier or calmer if you smile because it follows your body’s lead.

“Almost done,” he said. He looked me directly in the eyes again. I thought I could sense that he was a bit nervous, behind his façade of this all being routine.

Alex pulled his black boxer briefs down over his impressive thighs. He pushed them to his ankles and stepped out of them.

I couldn’t help but look at his penis. It was massive! I guessed his dick was about seven inches flaccid; no wonder he wasn’t ashamed of his body. His dick swung down between his thighs, resting against his left leg. Like his arms, it was vascular. There was a large vein running down the shaft. Not only was it long, but it was thick. It must have been five inches around. Almost as an afterthought, I noticed that it was circumcised.

Alex had a small, manscaped patch of blond pubic hair at the base of his dick. His scrotum hung loosely; his nuts looked smaller than golf balls but seemed well-portioned to his penis. There was a light coating of sandy-blond hair covering his nutsack.

He moved closer to me as he placed his clothes into the locker I had been using. His arm brushed across my chest; his cock pushed against the towel I was wearing. He stepped back and placed a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes.

“Honestly, that wasn’t too bad,” he said.

I couldn’t believe he was still standing there completely naked. I didn’t think I would ever be that comfortable with my body, even if I stayed in therapy for years. But then again, unlike Alex, I didn’t have a model’s physique.

Alex looked around. He was scanning the area near him like he had misplaced something.

“I didn’t get a towel for myself. I should go grab one,” he said, walking away.

I watched since I was curious to get a view of his backside. He had broad shoulders and a muscular back. His ass was just as stunning as his dick! He had a firm bubble butt. I appreciated that peach shape as he walked. It bounced a little each time his feet made contact with the concrete floor. To be honest, it was a little hypnotizing.

When he was near the other side of the room, I quickly pulled off my white boxer briefs beneath my towel. I didn’t want to take them off while Alex watched. I was already feeling intimidated by his superhuman, well-muscled body. I piled all of my other clothes, along with my underwear, into the locker.

I looked back to see Alex a few steps away; he was still naked! He had placed the towel over his shoulder rather than wrapping it around his waist. He ran his hand through his hair to adjust a strand that had fallen out of place.

He placed his hand on my bicep as he arrived at the locker. He gave me a big smile; his dimples deepened. They looked so non-threatening compared to the sharp edge of his jawline.

“I figured the whole point is not being embarrassed,” he explained, “and the towel would just be for modesty since I only really need it to dry off after the shower.”

I nodded; it did make sense to some degree.

“Are you going to take off your underwear?” Alex asked.

“I already did it while you were getting the towel.”

“Are you feeling embarrassed?”

“Yes,” I replied as I looked into the open locker.

“Remember that shame only has the power over us that we give it. It begins to lessen if you start taking actions opposite of what the shame wants you to do. I think that taking off your towel could be a good start.”

I felt myself start to get overwhelmed again. My cheeks were becoming red. My heart started to beat a little faster. I imagined him looking at my penis. At three inches soft, it was less than half the size of Alex’s dick. I wondered if he might laugh before he had time to suppress his immediate reaction. I didn’t want to disappoint him, though. I unwrapped the towel from my waist, repositioning it, so it was bunched in front of my crotch.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Terrifying,” I replied.

“What are you afraid of?”

I took another glance down at his massive cock. I focused on the large, blue vein, wondering what it would feel like in my warm fist.

“I’m, I’m nervous about having you see my dick,” I mumbled. “It isn’t as big as yours. You might laugh or something.”

“When have I ever laughed at you? And we’ve already established how big your dick is; three inches soft and five inches hard. It’s not like I will be surprised to see it.”

“Okay,” I said.

I took a deep breath and tossed the towel on the bench. I closed my eyes like I was trying to distance myself from what was happening. I heard a noise; it was the wooden bench creaking.

I opened my eyes to find that Alex had sat before me; he was almost at eye level with my penis. He was staring directly at my crotch. I felt my heart skip a beat; I started to move my hands to cover myself. He pushed my hands aside.

“I’m not seeing anything to be ashamed of here,” he said. “You have a nice dick. It is average in length and girth but well-proportioned, and I think it looks good. You take care of this part of your body.”

Two of his fingers glided across my trimmed pubic hair. Then he gently took my penis into his hand, examining it more closely. I felt my abs contract in response to his touch. I worried about everyone else in the locker room potentially seeing a god-like Alex holding my small dick in his large hand. It didn’t even span the distance of half of his palm. I frantically scanned the room. A few guys were changing, but none of them were watching us. I was thankful for that, at least.

“It feels soft — although I only have my own for comparison,” he said, his tone becoming lighter. “It has a nice weight; not too heavy, but there’s sufficient mass for what one needs to do with it.”

He let my dick fall from his palm. I could already feel the blood wanting to race towards it; it was excited by what had just happened. I willed myself not to get hard; that would be far too embarrassing. I knew he had only touched me to offer reassurance, so reacting sexually would be mortifying. I blushed and thought about how to best describe my feelings without being too direct.

“This is not what I expected to happen when I arrived at our session today,” I joked.

Alex stood up. He placed both of his hands on my shoulders. His large pecs flexed in reaction to his movement.

“Same, James, same,” he said with a laugh. “Why don’t we hit the showers?”

I followed Alex closely as he walked toward the communal showers. He had his towel draped over one shoulder; mine was wrapped around my neck, with the ends hanging down over my chest.

I counted four other men in the locker room while we walked toward the showers. Most of them were focused on either taking off or putting on their clothes. One man, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, looked up at us for a few seconds. I wondered if he was comparing my body with Alex’s massive frame. I assumed that he must think I was entirely underwhelming in comparison.

We reached the edge of the shower. I watched as Alex stepped between the two shower heads closest to the entrance.

“Are these two alright?” he asked, with his back facing me.

I stared at his ass more intently; a fine blond down covered his pale skin. There was an indent where his thighs transitioned to his ass; it created a pronounced curvature between the two areas. I could see a dimple deepen in the side of this ass cheek closest to me as he shifted his weight onto that leg.

“Sure, this is fine.”

Alex hung his towel on a hook between the shower heads. He started fiddling with the knobs for the shower on the right, adjusting the temperature. The water splashed on the edge of his shoulder. I watched a small line of droplets pass between his shoulder blades. They crawled down the edge of his spine before disappearing into the crevice at the top of his defined ass.

Turning to the left, he grabbed the knobs below that shower head. The water hit him directly on his torso. He quickly jumped back.

“That was freezing,” he said with a laugh.

He took my hand and placed it on his chest, where the water had fallen. It didn’t seem colder, in my opinion, but I could feel the steady beating of his heart.

Alex let go of my hand; he returned to adjusting the knobs. My palm lingered for a moment before I placed it at my side. I had to force myself not to cover myself with it. It felt like a small voice was shouting that I should protect myself from being seen, and I had to ignore it.

The water was streaming down his chest again. His abs appeared to tense against the increased pressure of the jets hitting them. His cock glistened as the water washed over it; droplets fell from his swaying testicles onto the floor.

“I think the temperature is much better now.” He stepped between the showers again, removing himself from the shower head spray.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing to the shower head on the left.

I scanned the shower room. I had been so focused on Alex that I hadn’t looked to see who else was in there with us. There were four shower heads on each of the three walls. Two men were showering behind us with a space separating them; they were talking. They were both about my age, and they seemed reasonably fit. The water from their shower heads cascaded down their backs and over their asses. A man in his early thirties was on the other wall – a grad student, perhaps? He was a little overweight, but not significantly.

I hoped they were almost done with their showers, especially the two younger men. I had always found guys my age to be much crueler when presented with something to mock. I could imagine them turning to see me and Alex side by side. I pictured them pointing at his giant cock before pointing at my tiny penis, then bursting into laughter. I got a little dizzy; I thought about how ashamed I would be of having Alex witness such a scene. I imagined him telling them to stop while stating that my flaccid three inches are typical. I didn’t think I could endure the ignominy of him having to deny my shortcomings.

Alex moved below the shower head on the right. He let the water wet his hair; the sandy blond turned to a slightly darker hue as it slicked down. He raised his head towards the falling water while closing his eyes. He looked like a Greek statue, the water making even his smaller muscles appear more defined.

“Come on,” he said, turning to face me. He gave an encouraging smile. “The water feels great.”

The potential grad student quickly glanced over at us. I figured he was probably wondering why I needed to be encouraged to take a shower. I was glad Alex blocked my body’s view with his larger frame.

I tentatively took my towel from across my neck, placing it on the hook. I stepped into the water. I felt of jolt of energy as the warm water rushed down my torso. Alex was looking at me as I adjusted to the sensation.

“Are you okay?” he asked as if I were becoming more anxious.

Alex extended his hand to the plastic dispenser on the wall; he cupped it, pressing with his palm. A white combination of shower gel/shampoo gel squirted onto his fingers.

“Here,” he said, reaching toward me.

I made my hand into a curved shape; he tried to shake the liquid into it. Most of the white fluid landed on my palm, but a few stray drops hit me on my ribs.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

He reached over and started to brush the liquid away from my flank. I felt myself take a deep breath in response to his touch. He switched to rubbing the gel into my skin rather than trying to flick it away. I had yet to exhale.

“You need to breathe,” he reminded me.

He stepped into my shower area; his body was close to mine. I could see water splashing from my chest onto his torso. I glanced down to find that our dicks were mere inches apart. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. It was shameful seeing them right next to one another. Alex’s penis was over twice as long as mine and was substantially thicker.

Alex pulled me by the shoulder, turning me sideways. The water was now flowing down my left side. He placed one hand on my pecs and the other hand on my abs. The one on my abs felt silkier; it had been holding the shower gel.

“Breath,” he said.

I focused on deeply inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. I struggled to find the rhythm; my head was flooded with a million thoughts: did Alex think I was a failure? Were the other people in the room watching us? Did they think I was deficient?

“Put your hands on my chest and diaphragm,” Alex instructed.

I followed his orders without thinking. I placed my right hand over his large pec muscle; I planted my other hand on his abs. I could feel the definition of his six-pack as I pressed against him. I noticed that he was pulling his breath down, so the hand on his abs was moving while the other lay still.

I focused on doing the same. I directed the air deep down into my belly. Alex’s hand accidentally tickled the coarse hair near the top of my treasure trail. I couldn’t believe he was doing this for me. I figured he must care about me more than I’d realized. I asked myself if any other straight guy would put himself in this position just to help someone, especially a gay man.

I felt my dick reacting to those thoughts. It began to feel warmer as it started to expand. My nerve endings were tingling in response to splashes of water hitting my cock head. I couldn’t stop myself from looking down. My dick grew to half-mast; it was now about four inches. It lifted away from my thigh, creating a soft downward arch. I was hoping Alex couldn’t see what was happening. I was sure that he would think I was a pervert to be getting hard in the midst of almost having a panic attack.

My thoughts began to spiral again: how could I have been so dumb to allow myself to get into this situation? Would Alex reject me once he realized I was getting turned on watching him? How could anyone like him want to be around someone like me?

Alex removed his hand from my body. “Good job regulating your breathing,” he said, stepping back into the other shower stream. “I knew you could do it.”

We continued to face one another. Alex slowly scanned down my body, pausing briefly at my crotch. I wasn’t sure if he could tell I was getting hard since three and four inches aren’t that different. I said a silent prayer that he hadn’t noticed. I couldn’t even think about what was going through his mind; it was too devastating to go down that line of thinking.

Alex turned and faced the wall rather than looking again; he started rubbing more shower gel on his chest. I also turned forward while watching him from the corner of my eye. Alex began running his hands over his large pecs, massaging in the gel. It created a bubbly foam that washed down his body.

He lifted his hands to his scalp and lathered his hair. His biceps were bulging as he cradled his head in his palms. He worked his fingers through his sandy locks. He tilted his head back under the water, causing the foam to wash away. He pushed his hair back into his standard side part.

Alex turned his head to look at me; I wrenched my head forward, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I’d been staring. He probably had. I knew he must be catching me leering at him repeatedly, but he was pretending it wasn’t a big deal.

“Aren’t you going to lather up?” he asked with a gentle smile.

I speedily mimicked what he had just done. The shower gel had a subtle aroma — baby powder, of all things. I went through the motions of washing my chest, abs, and hair; Alex had moved on to passing his thighs and legs. He was massaging the base of his palms into his upper left thigh.

Alex looked over and caught me staring again; this time, I was practically ogling him.

“I am thinking I pulled something playing rugby with some friends,” he explained. “The muscle here is so tense.”

Without thinking, I stepped sideways toward Alex. I reached out and placed my hand on his massaging spot. I started pressing down to feel what he was talking about. Alex put his left hand along the back of my neck.

“Can you feel it?” he asked.

I nodded affirmatively. I dug my fingers into his bulky thigh. His cock was swinging down, water dripping from it as it swayed. It was only about an inch from making contact with the top side of my fingers. I hoped that Alex would shift his weight so it would come to rest against my hand. I think I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was, in fact, pathetic in my evident desire for him.

“You should be focusing on yourself,” he said, “but it was nice of you to try to massage away some of this soreness.”

Thankfully, I realized that that was my cue to step back into my shower. As I pulled my hand away, I tried to caress his dick with the top of it slowly. I arched my fingers, causing the tips to connect with the large vein on the side of his penis right before my hand lifted.

Alex gave me a slight grin. I wondered if he knew that my touch had been intentional. I hastily returned to my stall, focusing on washing my thighs and legs.

I suddenly worried that the other guys in the room had been watching me touch Alex. I looked behind me; the two guys were turning off their showers. They looked like they were finished. I could hear them talking about a video game they both played, so they must not have seen it. I glanced at their crotches. The guy on the left was about five inches soft; his friend was about six inches. It was embarrassing to confirm that I was much smaller than them.

The potential grad student’s back was still facing us, although I suspected he was taking glances over his shoulder. I tried to reassure myself that I was just being paranoid – that my anxiety made me think he was watching.

I turned my eyes back towards Alex. He pumped the plastic dispenser; two dollops of gel dripped into his palm. He turned away from me so I could see water streaming down his back and over his glutes. He reached behind with both hands, planting one palm on each ass cheek. He started rubbing in a circular motion.

Alex continued to work the lather into his skin. He would tense and release his muscles; each transition made his ass jiggle a little. He pulled his left hand back in front of him. He started pushing his right hand’s index and middle finger into the crevice at the top of his ass.

Alex glanced over his shoulder to better observe what his hand was doing. I was sure he could see me staring but pretended not to notice. His hand was deep between his ass cheeks; I wondered if his fingers were rubbing against his asshole. He pulled his hand back to his side, turning to face the shower head.

“How are you doing?” he asked. His sparkling green eyes lit up; his dimples emerged as he smiled.

“I think I’m doing okay.”

I had returned to lathering my chest again. I didn’t want to massage my ass in front of Alex. I worried I would go from half-mast to full-mast if my hand got near my asshole. I would be completely mortified if he saw my tiny dick hard.

“Good,” Alex replied. “I know this isn’t easy for you. I just wanted to say that I am proud that you are facing this fear.”

Alex turned to face me; his dick had grown by at least an inch. I figured that he must have the same response to his asshole being stimulated as I did. I had never really thought about whether straight guys reacted similarly.

Alex pumped the dispenser again. He placed the shower gel onto his cock. He used his palm to rub it down the top side of his lengthy shaft; his dick was starting to stick up a bit now that it was partially hard. He rubbed some of the gel into his large nuts as well. He cupped them; his dick hung down over the back side of his hand. It emphasized how big it was compared to what he claimed was the average size.

Alex wrapped his hand around his penis. He loosely gave it a few long strokes. He was looking down, watching his hand in action. Water cascaded down his back as he continued to pull on his member softly.

I was entranced with watching his giant fist struggle to contain what must have been six inches of girth. I could see that his cock was starting to jut out more rigidly in front of him in response to his attentions.

Alex moved his hand to his abs. His dick was now about 8 inches long, hanging in a partially-erect state. He looked over at me again.

“Doing okay?” he asked.

I was utterly silent. I suddenly realized that watching Alex touch himself that way had pushed me over the line. Not only was I fully erect at five inches, but some pre-cum had started to form on my cock head. Luckily, the water from the shower had washed it away. I placed my open hands over one another a few inches before my hard dick.

“Aren’t you going to wash your crotch?” he asked. “I think it is essential for this exercise.”

I remained frozen. I looked down at the floor. I felt his hand as he placed it on my shoulder.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m embarrassed,” I said, shaking slightly. “I’m worried that you will think I am some kind of pervert or something like that.”

“Why would I think that?”

I thought about what I should tell him — if I could get away with a lie. I played out the option of saying that the smooth shower gel wicking down my penis had gotten me excited. Alex had been so nonjudgmental and caring throughout this experience, though I wondered if I could get away with the truth.

I took a deep breath and made my choice.

“I was kind of watching you when you were just cleaning yourself, well parts of yourself, a minute ago,” I confessed — although he surely already knew. “I got a little excited.

I nodded towards my hands, covering my small, hard penis. You must know that you are handsome,” I told him. “You have a ripped body, a handsome face, and a stunning dick and firm ass to top it all off. But you are my therapist, and I shouldn’t see you that way. I don’t want you to think I’m some predator. This is mortifying.”

Alex blushed; a rosy hue spread across his cheeks. He didn’t seem perfectly confident and self-assured for the first time since I’d walked into his office earlier that day. He appeared at a loss for words. He lifted his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temple. His large bicep glistened in the water.

“Okay, um, I guess it’s pretty flattering,” he said. “I’ve never been told that I’m attractive by another guy. And it’s not uncommon for patients to develop feelings for their therapists. Maybe I should be more offended if you weren’t having some type of reaction? This is a pretty atypical situation, and it’s normal for someone to become aroused by certain stimuli. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

I shook my head, trying to force myself to believe what he was saying — not only that it was true, but he believed it too. I wanted to look him in the eyes, but I couldn’t. I was too nervous and embarrassed. I quickly redirected my focus down to my hands.

“You can lower your hands,” he said. “I’m not going to freak out.”

I took a deep breath and placed my hands flat against my thighs. I could feel the warm water wash over me; it redirected its flow as I repositioned myself. It started to stream down my abs onto my steel-hard dick; it trailed off the shaft down to the floor.

Alex was looking at my crotch. With his eyes off my face, I could finally look at his. I watched him inspect me — assess me. He took a step closer.

“So that is what you’re so ashamed about?” he asked. “It looks completely normal to me. I could see how it could make the right guy very happy.” I saw a sly grin creep onto his face, but then, suddenly, he was all business again. “Maybe we should finish up in here. You should get to lathering that thing up.”

Alex stepped back into his space and faced the shower head. I pumped some gel onto my palm. He was just standing there waiting for me to be done. I hesitated to put the shower gel on my crotch. I had always been sensitive to lubrication; I worried that rubbing the silky liquid onto my dick might be too much to handle.

I turned to face the shower head, and then I froze. My hand was cupped palm-up with the gel in it. I could see Alex moving toward me from the corner of my eye. He positioned himself behind me. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body; there was less than a foot separating us.

Alex put his left hand on my bicep; he slid his right hand under mine. Our fingers intertwined. He slowly guided my hand, causing our bodies to pull even closer together. I felt his partially erect penis smack against my thigh before pulling back. It sent a jolt through my system; my testicles tightened.

“It’s okay,” he breathily whispered into my ear.

Alex guided my hand against my pubic hair. I could feel our tangled fingers lathering the gel into my groomed patch.

I looked around the room; I was worried about if others were watching. The only person left was the guy I suspected was a grad student. He was staring at us over his shoulder. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He couldn’t believe that an Adonis-like Alex was wrapping himself around someone as insubstantial as me.

Alex slid our hands towards the base of my cock. He pressed our fingertips down against it, feeling the resistance as it heaved upwards. He pushed our palms along the topside of my shaft, gliding toward the head. He guided us in this motion a few more times.

My nipples were hardening. They radiated energy waves through my chest as the water continued to rain down on my torso.

Alex pushed even closer. His dick rammed harder against my right ass, cheek, and thigh. It felt much harder than when it had jostled into me earlier. I sensed the resistance; it wanted to rise, but there wasn’t enough room. Instead, it was straining against my skin.

Alex rested his chin on my shoulder; I could feel his hot breath against the side of my face. His chest was heaving into my back.

Our hands pushed forward, gliding atop my cock head. Our middle fingertips circled the perimeter of my glans. I felt some more pre-cum emerge as our fingertips started to rub against the opening of my urethra.

I felt myself jump. The reality of what was happening hit me all at once; I was shocked that things had gone so far. I couldn’t figure out how this godly specimen of a man was doing these things to my underwhelming body. I worried that he would pull his hand away when he felt the stickiness of the pre-cum.

“It’s okay. That’s a normal response,” he whispered into my ear as if he was reading my mind.

Alex untangled our fingers. I figured that I must have guessed correctly: he was pulling away. He spun me around to face him; the water was falling between our bodies. We remained less than one foot apart as we stared into each other’s eyes.

Alex looked down, and I followed his gaze. Our cocks were side-by-side next to one another, with only an inch between them. Mine looked insignificant compared to his massive member. The tip of his dick was almost touching my pubic hair.

Alex put his left hand on my head, tussling my wet hair; it felt so intimate. My cock twitched in response to him touching me, even on a distant part of my body.

“These both look pretty normal to me,” he said.

He reached down with his other hand; he used it to press our dicks firmly against one another. After feeling the heft of Alex’s gigantic member against my small penis, I took a step backward. My retreat had re-opened the space that had been separating our dicks. Alex seemed to sense my growing uneasiness.

“Mine may be bigger, but yours is just as good,” he said, showing his dimples as he smiled.

Alex’s hand pushed forward; he wrapped it around the base of my dick and enveloped it in his grasp. I let out a sound between a shocked sigh and a moan.

Alex brought his other hand to my head, urging it forward, so its crown rested on his right pec muscle. I could feel the rhythmic vibration of his heartbeat. I was looking straight down, watching his gentle hand on my cock.

Alex stroked his hand down my dick, base to head; it didn’t have to travel that far. I felt my asshole get tight. I looked at his nine-inch dick next to mine, wondering what it would feel like inside me. My cock started to throb; I was certain Alex could feel it as he made another stroking motion.

“I think we are almost done with this exposure activity,” he said.

I could see from the corner of my eyes that he was focused on my penis. I didn’t understand why he’d want to keep looking at it. Then again, I didn’t know why he was touching it, either. He tilted his head so his warm lips practically touched my ear. I felt his sultry breath against my face.

“You’ve done an excellent job today,” Alex whispered as he grasped my dick tighter. He pulled his hand down the shaft, then stopped using his soft thumb to circle my cock head.

I inhaled as deeply as possible, pulling all the air I could get into my diaphragm. I knew what was happening, though it felt much more intense than I could remember. My asshole puckered, and my scrotum pulled tight.

Alex cupped his hand in front of my cock, because he knew what was about to happen too. I watched a rope of thick, hot cum erupt from my cock head, right into his waiting palm. I shifted my head, pushing my ear deeper against his lips; they were soft and full.

Alex’s hand remained in place as four more ropes of semen shot from my body. His hand was soon full of my cum and water from the showers still splashing. I watched as my dick jerked before releasing a sixth and final Spunk shot.

I couldn’t believe that had just happened. My body was still abuzz with the lingering pleasure of my orgasm, while my mind wanted to pull me towards a million thoughts reinforcing my depravity and inferiority. I tried to focus on what I was feeling in my body to distract me from my thoughts.

Alex shifted his head and stopped when his lips reached my cheek; he gave me a swift, gentle kiss. We both raised our heads, looking at one another in the eyes. His hand remained cupped, filled with my semen. His cock was still rock hard. I hadn’t been able to exhale.

“Breath,” he instructed.

His cupped hand moved toward my body. He rotated it, pushing his palm flat against my abs. I felt my warm, sticky cum smearing into my skin beneath his soft hand. I exhaled; his hand pressed further into me as the air escaped.

Alex let his hand drop to his side; the water started washing away the spunk from my abs and his palm. He took a step back. My dick was already starting to soften; it had already shrunk to about four inches.

I looked around the room again; only the guy from before was there. I saw that his dick was hard before we made eye contact. He was larger, like Alex, at about eight inches. He spun back around to face his shower head. I felt a little embarrassed that he had just watched all of that, but I also figured that my body couldn’t be as insubstantial as I had always thought if he was getting hard from watching us.

Alex was smiling at me as I gazed into his forest-hued eyes. His cock was still sticking out in front of him. I wanted to reach out and wrap my fist around it. I wanted to do for him what he had just done for me. I furrowed my brow and bit my lip. I was just starting the choke out the first few words when Alex spoke.

“I think I know what you are going to ask,” he said. “I have to be honest; I think part of me would like it, but…” He paused, inhaling deeply. “…but I don’t think it’s the best idea.”

I felt disappointed. I wondered if he was just trying to find an excuse; maybe he regretted this incident? I nodded, trying to show him that I understood what he was saying.

Alex must have been able to tell that I was feeling rejected. He pulled me towards him, wrapping his arms around me as mine remained at my side. His muscular biceps pressed against my arms. His cock snaked upwards, sandwiched between our abs, as he held me tight. I tried to focus on how it felt against my body; I was now desperate to hold onto this memory.

Alex let go and stepped away. He turned off each of the showers, his massive dick bobbing up and down as he fiddled with the knobs. I stared at his firm ass, trying to create an image to pull up later.

Alex handed me my towel, then took it down from the hook. He started to wrap it around his body; his nine-inch erection created a large tent in the fabric. My dick was now soft again.

“Wait…” I said with a smirk. “Shouldn’t we leave here the same way we came in? You’re the one who said we don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

I wasn’t sure what encouraged me to say that. It was uncharacteristic. I had always been so worried about others seeing me naked. I wondered if maybe some of me wanted to get back at him for not letting me reciprocate. I questioned whether my more intense feelings of disappointment and rejection kept me from feeling anxious.

Alex chuckled; he gave a look that seemed to acknowledge that he knew what I was doing. He stared at me for what felt like an eternity.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimed in.

It was the man who had been watching earlier; he was still showering. He didn’t have an erection anymore, though. I wasn’t sure if he had jacked off or if it subsided on its own. I thought that he must have been hoping that Alex would have been the one to cum. He would have watched a load shoot from his gigantic dick rather than the sideshow he got from my tiny penis.

“That is what I said,” Alex admitted with a grin, pointedly ignoring the interruption.

He removed his towel, tossing it over his shoulder. I wrapped mine around my neck. Alex led us towards the shower exit, his ass bouncing with each footfall, and I followed.

As we exited, I could see the locker room was much busier. There were about fifteen people in various stages of undress. I felt beat a little more quickly, but it settled into a more regular pace as a devious thought entered my mind.

I made an awkwardly loud “Achoo” noise, which did not sound realistic. Everyone looked over, but my body was intentionally hidden behind Alex. He turned his head over his shoulder, making a puzzled expression. I watched as he turned his head back and realized that everyone was now staring at his erect penis.

“Very funny, James,” he called out as he continued to walk to the locker.

A few men quickly looked away from Alex’s body; others continued to stare. I could hear one young man talking to his friend. I thought I recognized him from the LGBTQ student activity group.

“That guy taught my freshman psychology seminar. I might have gone to class more often if he’d taught naked,” he joked. “His cock is massive!”

He reached into his duffel bag. I suspected he was up to something, so I wrapped my towel around my waist. Alex couldn’t see what I was doing since he was still in front of me. The young man pulled out a phone and snapped a few pictures, trying to be stealthy. He tossed the phone back into his bag.

I was thankful that I had decided to cover myself. I couldn’t imagine him having pictures of me naked, especially right next to Alex. I would have looked entirely pathetic. I was now soft; Alex’s massive erection was three times larger than my flaccid dick. I thought about asking one of my friends to help me connect with the amateur photographer later; I’d have to find a way to get him to send me those pictures.

As we reached the locker, I yanked off my towel. I was ready to be covered again, but I was sad to know that this bizarre experience was ending. Alex turned to find that I was still undressed, although my towel was now in my hand. I didn’t want him to know I had broken our agreement by covering myself.

“See, I’m not ashamed,” he said in a truly genuine way.

We both dried off quickly with our towels before tossing them on the bench. I tried to keep my body positioned so none of the other guys in the room besides Alex could see my dick. He took our clothes from the locker and placed them on the bench.

He stepped into his black boxer briefs. He bent forward to start to pull them up. I was staring, and I barely even felt bad about it.

“Wait…,” I heard myself mutter, causing Alex to stop in his tracks.

Alex’s underwear fell back around his ankles. He placed a hand on my shoulder, making a concerned face. His cock jutted out towards me.

“I just wanted one last look,” I said with a grin.

“James, you flatter me too much,” Alex said with a sigh. “The further you put me on a pedestal, the further down you place yourself. It’s just a penis.”

Alex grabbed it in his hand; he clenched his fist around it. “Here,” he said, pulling at my wrist.

He guided my hand to his dick, wrapping my palm around his shaft. It was so girthy that I couldn’t fully close my hand; the large vein throbbed against my fingers.

I stood there, appreciating the weight of his massive member. I unclenched my fist, letting his dick sitting on my palm. I bounced it up and down a few times. I slid my hand further down and let it glide up my forearm. It spanned most of the distance from my wrist to my elbow. I softly caressed his scrotum; it tightened in response to my fingers.

Alex stepped backward, his dick falling from its perch on my forearm.

“I’m really sensitive there,” he said, “and I’m not ready to have the same reaction you had in the shower in front of the entire locker room.”

I felt a little bad then. I wouldn’t want to put him in a position that would cause him to feel the same level of embarrassment that I had been struggling with for years.

“It did feel good, though,” he said, pulling up his underwear.

He struggled to fit his erection in his tight boxer briefs. He tried to position it upwards, but the head emerged from the waistband. He tried pressing it down against his thigh, but the tip stuck through the leg hole.

I felt happy to be no longer exposed as I began to dress. I was utterly focused on Alex. I needed to burn these last images into my memory. I was sure I would want to remember this in as much detail as possible later.

Alex settled on letting his dick jut straight in front of him, creating a large tent. He put on the rest of his clothes. I had already finished. After all, I hadn’t had to struggle to get my penis back into my underwear.

I realized I felt less anxious than when we’d arrived at the locker room. I asked myself, Is the therapy working, or had Alex just distracted me from thinking the things that would typically cause me to panic? I still felt embarrassed; today reinforced that I didn’t measure up to so many other guys. I thought about how that didn’t seem to bother Alex, though. I wondered if feeling accepted by him would help me further accept myself.

“That was an excellent exposure session today. You did a great job of facing your fears and not giving into avoidance. I want you to practice showering at the gym again before our next session.”

“Okay,” I replied, my eyes twinkling with happiness from his affirmation.

“Remember to do your homework,” Alex proclaimed while tying his shoes.

“What’ll happen if I don’t?”

“Well, we’ll just have to do it together in session,” Alex said, sounding the detached, serious professional-in-training.

Then I saw that sly grin creep back onto his face. He gave me a little wink.

 

The End.

 

*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even with limited editing. It doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed. The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech.