Addicts

The SAA meeting wasn't what I expected at all. It was worse.

In your head you dream up how things will pan out, the situations you walk into and how they eventually run their course according to your expectations. Nothing prepared me for this.

I've been a sex addict ever since I got my first taste, and my first taste wasn't sex at all. I was on holiday with my parents; the caravan site we stayed in was handled by a team of cleaners. One of the cleaners was a middle aged woman, still good looking, but her uniform didn't fit too well. I was treated to a little extra cleavage and a fair amount of arse whenever she bent over. They always came when the site was clear and families had gone off on guided tours in the nearby village. I pretended to be a sick a few times so I'd get left behind.
I never spoke to her but, now I'm a little older, I do believe she knew I had a crush. The uniform was never replaced with one that fit, at least not whilst I was around. The first time I masturbated wasn't until we stopped going to the caravan park. I think the lack of a stable sex object forced my hands into my pants at the tender age of 11.

So, years later here I am at my first Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting and I can't help thinking the woman leading the meeting looks a lot like that cleaner.
Thoughts I don't need to be having are running through my head and I'm sitting picturing this woman naked, or at least with less clothes on. I try not to make eye contact and look at the floor, the walls, anywhere else but directly at her. It's then that I notice some of the other members. They don't look as nervous as I do. I focus on them instead, but that's a mistake too. A girl, probably in her mid twenties with long red curly hair and full lips is staring at me, I know this because we're sitting at opposite sides of the circle and she's smiling at me. I interpret the smile as a friendly gesture, but I'm wrong, very wrong.

In my effort to control my thoughts I miss most of the introductory section of the meeting and we're all asked to have a quick break, mingle and get to know each other, then come back and properly introduce ourselves. A kind of, ice breaker before the ice breaker.
She homes in before I can get to the tea trolley, her red hair bouncing as she stops just inside my personal space and offers her hand for me to shake. At that moment I realise I was better off going on the guided tours in the village.