The Therapy That Pushed Her to Cheat on Her Boyfriend

Mariana Bustos had arrived in the capital barely ten months earlier. She came from a small town in the interior, where life moved slowly and without surprises. At twenty-three, she was still a country girl: fair skin, big eyes, wavy brown hair, a firm body from helping so much in the family vegetable garden. When she decided to move to study design, everything felt huge and overwhelming.

In the city she met Damián, her boyfriend. He was a few years older, worked in his family’s company, and had a kind but reserved personality. Mariana, who had been a virgin when she arrived, gave him her virginity in the third month of their relationship. It was tender, quick, and not very memorable. Since then, their sex life had always been the same: the same position, the lights off, almost no foreplay, and everything over in less than ten minutes.

She didn’t have a bad time, but she felt something was missing and didn’t know how to name it. She had never been with anyone else. How was she supposed to know what was “good”?

What truly had her distressed had happened three weeks earlier. In a restaurant, without much preamble, Damián had told her that they got along well and that it would be a good time to get engaged. Mariana, nervous and excited, said yes. But inside, she panicked. Marriage like this, without knowing whether intimacy could be different, better, more intense? Every time she tried to talk about it with him, Damián changed the subject, and she didn’t insist out of embarrassment.

That was why, when she saw the ad in a social media group — “Group therapy to improve emotional and sexual confidence, practical approach” — organized by an association of rather dubious origin, she decided to sign up. Maybe here they’ll help me understand what’s happening to me, she thought.

The first day she arrived nervously. The group was small: eight people in a rectangular room, with armchairs arranged in a circle. At the front stood the coordinator, Gustavo, a man in his fifties, with gray at his temples, a scruffy beard, and a deep voice that was effortlessly calming.

After the introductions, Gustavo explained the group’s idea.

—We don’t come here just to talk about theories —he said—. We come to put into practice what we feel. Trust is built by doing, not just by talking.

Mariana was sitting next to a big guy, about twenty-six, broad-shouldered, wearing glasses and with a shy air. His name was Tobías. When it was his turn to speak, he turned red and barely lifted his eyes from the floor.

—I… have a really hard time connecting with girls. I get way too nervous. I have insecurities about my body and about… my performance. I try, but I freeze up.

Mariana felt tenderness for him. He seemed like a kind boy, insecure like her, though for different reasons.

As the sessions went on, Gustavo got to know the group. His eyes lingered especially on Mariana. He noticed her innocence, how easily she blushed, how she lowered her gaze whenever sex was mentioned, the almost childish questions she sometimes asked. He didn’t feel like devoting himself to everyone equally, so he came up with something pretty twisted to make his job easier, confident they’d believe him. At the end of the session, he asked Mariana and Tobías to stay a few minutes.

—I’ve been thinking about you two —he said, settling into his chair—. Mariana, you have little experience and many doubts about intimacy. Tobías, you carry insecurities and a fear of rejection. I think it would help you to pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend for the next few weeks. You’d go out together, practice physical contact, couple things. That way you, Mariana, would resolve your doubts before getting married, and you, Tobías, would gain confidence in a safe environment.

Mariana opened her eyes wide.

—Pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend? What kind of things?

—Nothing you don’t want to do. But something realistic. If you’re not convincing, it won’t help you. It’s experimental therapy.

Tobías blushed even more and said nothing. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

She hesitated. It was madness. She had a boyfriend, she was practically engaged. But the idea of getting married without knowing whether she could enjoy it terrified her.

—I don’t know… —she murmured—. I have a boyfriend and…

—That’s precisely why —Gustavo interrupted calmly—. You’re about to take a very serious step. Wouldn’t you rather reach marriage knowing what you want and what you need? It’s just practice. Think of it as an investment in your future.

Mariana swallowed. After a long silence, she finally agreed, her stomach in knots.

—All right… I’ll do it. Only for my marriage.

***

The first “dates” were innocent. During the first week they went out three times: a cheap dinner, an afternoon at the movies, and a walk through the park. They talked a lot. Tobías read a lot and had a dry sense of humor that made her laugh. Mariana felt comfortable with him, with no pressure.

In the second week, he started raising the stakes. They were at the movies, watching a romantic film, when he leaned toward her ear.

—Mariana… since we’re “boyfriend and girlfriend,” don’t you think we should kiss? It would be more believable for therapy.

She stiffened.

—Kiss? I don’t know… it’s weird.

—Just a small one. Gustavo said we had to practice. Otherwise we won’t move forward.

Mariana, always obedient and afraid of failing, agreed, her face burning. The first kiss was timid: barely two seconds of lips. Tobías pulled back with a nervous smile.

At the next date, in a café, he asked for another. This time longer. And by the third he slid in his tongue, slowly at first, then deeper. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. No one had ever kissed her like that. She felt an unfamiliar heat settle in her belly.

—Tobías… that’s too much already —she protested afterward, red as a tomato.

—Relax. It’s normal between boyfriend and girlfriend. If we don’t do it, Gustavo will realize we’re not taking this seriously.

And, once again, Mariana ended up giving in.

***

In the third week, Tobías dared to do more. They were on the sofa in his apartment, with his parents out, after a movie. After a long kiss, he slid a hand under her blouse and brushed one breast over her bra.

Mariana jerked away.

—Tobías! What are you doing? That’s not a kiss!

He lowered his gaze, pretending to be embarrassed, though inside he was burning.

—I’m sorry… it’s just that real boyfriends touch each other. Gustavo said we should practice all kinds of contact. If we only kiss, we’re not being honest with the therapy.

She bit her lip. She remembered the fear of getting married without knowing anything. In a trembling voice, she gave in again.

—All right… but only over the clothes. And not much.

From there, the groping became routine. He touched her breasts, squeezed her hips, kissed her neck. At first she complained; then less and less. Tobías, seeing how easy she was to persuade, decided to go further.

One afternoon, after a long kiss, he took her hand and slowly brought it to his crotch. Mariana felt something hard and thick beneath the fabric of his pants.

—Boyfriends touch there too —he whispered—. Touch me. Just to practice.

Curiosity and pressure won out. She rested her palm over the fabric and felt. She froze. It was much bigger than what she knew from Damián. Much bigger. She could barely wrap her fingers around it.

—My God… —it slipped out—. It’s… it’s a lot bigger than my boyfriend’s.

Tobías felt a wave of power. He smiled with false modesty.

—Does it surprise you? It’s always been a problem for me. That’s why I’m in therapy.

Her hand remained there, fascinated and frightened at the same time. For the first time in her life, she felt genuine curiosity. And he, for the first time in his, felt in control of the situation. He knew he had just opened a door Mariana would no longer be able to close.

***

The “therapy” sessions became more frequent and more intense. Mariana kept telling herself it was all for her future marriage, that she needed to understand her body before committing forever. But every time she was alone with Tobías, the line between practice and pure desire blurred a little more.

One Thursday afternoon they ended up again on his sofa, in dim light, with a warm lamp illuminating the stacked books. They sat down to talk, as always, but he didn’t take long to move closer.

—Come here —he said quietly, patting his thighs.

She hesitated, but moved closer. Tobías took her by the waist and, with a gentle but decisive motion, sat her astride him. Mariana immediately felt the hardness pressing right against her crotch. Despite their clothes, the thin fabric of her skirt hid nothing. She stayed still, hands on his shoulders, her heart in her throat.

He kissed her, deeply from the start. She responded almost unwillingly. As she shifted her hips slightly, the friction concentrated in the exact right place and a gasp slipped from her into his mouth.

She felt herself getting wet. Impossible not to notice. Burning curiosity, guilt tightening her chest, and confusion mixed together without order. Why was her body reacting like this? Why couldn’t she just get off him?

Tobías put his hands on her hips and guided her in a slow rocking motion, enough to make the friction unbearable.

—Do you like feeling me like this? —he murmured against her lips.

She closed her eyes, red with embarrassment.

—I don’t know… I shouldn’t…

But she didn’t get off. She kept moving, almost without realizing it.

—I want to see you —he said—. Just to gain confidence with your body. It’s important.

She shook her head, but her voice came out weak.

—No… that’s too much already…

—Think of your marriage. If you don’t even dare to show yourself or feel, how are you going to be comfortable with Damián for the rest of your life? No one will find out.

With trembling hands, Mariana lifted her blouse and bra. Her breasts were exposed, firm, with the nipples already hardening. Tobías let out a long sigh and caressed them, first brushing with his fingertips, then more firmly. He lowered his head and took one into his mouth, licked it slowly, sucked it. She threw her head back, her hands tangled in his hair.

—No… stop… —she whispered, without pushing him away.

She felt direct shocks between her legs. She was soaked.

***

Days later, on the same sofa, he unbuttoned his pants and freed himself. Mariana kept staring, fascinated and frightened.

—Touch me with no clothes on —he said—. So you can get used to the real feel.

She shook her head, but her hand was already moving closer. She wrapped her fingers around him, barely able to close them. She started stroking slowly, up and down. Tobías was panting.

—Like that… faster…

Her face burned as she sped up. Her wetness soaked her underwear. She wanted to stop and couldn’t. That mix of power and guilt made her dizzy.

Another day, he laid her down and hiked up her skirt.

—Now it’s your turn. Let me touch you. It’s only fair.

—No… that’s too intimate…

—Mariana, please. If we don’t move forward, the therapy won’t work. You need to know what it feels like to be touched properly. Damián hasn’t taught you anything. Let me help you.

She closed her eyes, biting her lip. He brushed her first over the fabric; she was soaked. Then he moved her underwear aside and touched her directly. Mariana let out a long moan. Tobías traced slow circles with his thumb and slid a finger inside her. It entered without resistance. She tried to close her legs instinctively, but he opened them gently.

—Relax… let me.

He added a second finger, curling them upward, rubbing at the same time. Mariana’s hips moved on their own. The orgasm hit her all at once: the first real one of her life. Her whole body trembled, her eyes filled with tears.

When she caught her breath, she remained confused, pleasure and guilt wrestling inside her. She had never felt anything like it.

He leaned back and asked her to finish him off with her hand. Still with her mind in turmoil, she obeyed. She took him with both hands and moved up and down while he guided her, until he tensed and finished over Mariana’s hand, her wrist, her skirt. She looked at the scene, stunned.

***

And then came the day that changed everything.

They were on the sofa again. Tobías caressed her slowly, kissing every inch of skin. When he reached her sex, he moved her clothes aside and explored her with his tongue, with fingers at the same time, until she writhed and came with her legs trembling around his head.

When she caught her breath, he sat up.

—Now you.

Mariana opened her eyes wide.

—But… I can’t. I don’t know how to do that.

—You don’t need to go to school to learn. Come here.

She hesitated, but the guilt of having received so much pushed her forward. She leaned in. At first timidly, then more decisively, while he moaned with his hand in her hair.

—Like that… so good…

When he warned her he was about to finish, she didn’t pull away. Afterward she stayed still, breathing hard, feeling at once shame, pleasure, fear, and a curiosity she could no longer deny.

Tobías looked at her, panting, with a satisfied smile.

—You’re incredible —he whispered.

Mariana didn’t answer. She slowly wiped herself with the back of her hand, still trembling. The confusion was total. Something inside her had broken, and she knew, with a clarity that frightened her, that there was no going back now. She thought of Damián, of the ring, of the wedding. And for the first time she didn’t feel panic about the future, but about everything she had just discovered about herself.