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The Therapist's Journey Ch. 01

By: MaryAnderson



I

My First Session with Theresa -- Friday Afternoon

I reviewed the patient information sheet for the day's final client. It was her first consultation. She was a thirty-six year old accountant who worked at the local firm that did my taxes. Her health was good; she took no medication other then birth control pills. Her forty-four year old husband was an executive with a local commercial construction company. They had an 18 year old son. She has left the line asking for the reason for the consultation blank. This was not unusual. Many clients were cautious about disclosing their most personal issues in writing to what were effectively strangers. My staff had ensured she had the proper insurance. I buzzed the reception room to send her in.

I greeted Theresa [I have changed her name to preserve confidentiality] at the office door. Anxiety was evident on her face. She wore little make-up and was dressed in a brown pants, sensible flat shoes, and a colorful loose-fitting blouse. Nonetheless, she was a striking woman. She stood about 5 feet 5 inches tall. Her long wavy almost-black hair was pulled behind her head, reaching beyond her shoulder blades. Her dark complexion revealed her Italian ancestry and her slender face featured deep brown eyes, a narrow nose, and thick lips on a relatively small mouth. The blouse, although loose, could not wholly hide her charms. Considering her thin frame her breasts were ample. We shook hands. I directed her to my leather couch. I sat in my chair.

She was nervous. After a brief exchange of pleasantries I decided to open with a question to which I knew she knew the answer. "Theresa, why did you choose me?" 

"Well, Dr. Barry, should I call you Dr. Barry?" She asked.

"Sally, will do. Why did you call me? There are many skilled therapists in this community."

"Some friends recommended you. I was also told you have a teenage son."

"That is correct," I replied. Was this about her son? My mind flitted to all the people who come to my office or corner me at parties asking how to bring their son, who is really a good boy but just has a few bad friends, under control. "Call 1 800 ASK-GODD," is an answer no one appreciates.

"And what brought you to my office," I asked as I leaned forward. This was both for effect, I wanted Theresa to know she had my full attention, and because Theresa was soft-spoken, a trait I initially attributed to her obvious anxiety about our meeting but which turned out to be her normal voice tone.

"Well, I'm not sure if I am here looking for permission, or a way out, or to be told I am bad, or good, or simply to make sure I am not crazy, or to see if any damage I am causing can be cured." I waited. Theresa's background and manner confirmed her intelligence. She knew she wasn't saying anything I could use. I was learning that she was confused and worried and looking for me to help. It would take a bit more coaxing before she would tell me why she was here.

I asked if she wanted some water. When she said yes I walked to the back of my office and retrieved the imported bottled-water my clients prefer from a small refrigerator in one of the cabinets. This short interruption was not an accident. Theresa needed a moment to compose herself, something she would do more effectively if I was not staring at her. My mind worked through the usual suspects of issues that would bring a thirty-six year old women with a teen-age boy to my office. I handed Theresa the water and sat down.

"Everything you say in this office stays in this office. All our conversations are confidential. The walls are practically sound-proof. The people out there," I gestured to my office door and staff beyond, "don't know what you and I are talking about. I don't even let them handle my notes." 

Theresa considered my words, leaned forward, and said, with her voice tone dropping a level and her eyes on the floor, "Dr. Barry, Sally, my son and I are sexually involved."

My initial thoughts were not exactly clinical. They were, in no particular order, "Omigod, I did not see this coming," and a graphic mental picture of Theresa and her son, who I had never seen but imagined to be as attractive as his mother, making love. I pushed my mind back to professional mode. The look on Theresa's face indicated my face had not betrayed my thoughts.

I had no significant training in incest. Theresa, was troubled, had chosen me to help, and the confession she had just made was tormenting her. She had asked me to be her therapist. Telling her I had to shuffle her off to an expert was not what she needed - it might come later, it would not come now. 

I asked her to tell me her story. She said she was not sure how. I asked her to tell me the story in the way she tells it to herself. She seemed reassured.

"I met my husband when I was eighteen. It was the summer before my senior year in high school and I was working in the bookkeeping department of Coliseum Construction [again I have changed the name to preserve confidentiality]. He was eleven years older than me and worked as a job superintendent, running construction projects on a day-to-day basis. He was strong and assertive and tough and I had an instant crush on him." 

I took some notes, but mostly paid attention. Her choice to start with her marriage told me that whatever was happening with her son had a lot to do with her marriage.

"Pretty soon we were dating and pretty soon after that I was pregnant. I was not a virgin when I started sleeping with him, but I was fairly inexperienced and what experience I had was with high school boys who knew less than I did. Our sex was not gentle. Foreplay was not his thing. He loved intercourse, and he loved it hard and fast.

"A few years after our son, Miles [again I have changed the name], was born I went to college and received my accounting degree. My husband steadily advanced at Coliseum. He was promoted to project manager and then vice-president. His first love was his work and he was not around as much as I would have liked, but I loved my son and my job and, to be honest, the lifestyle our success brought us. The frequency and length of our sex decreased; his tendency to," here she briefly paused, "mount and quickly dismount increased, but most of my girlfriends reported husbands whose declining libidos were complemented by atrophied skills. I accepted it as inevitable. 

"To be honest, I was also no longer that attracted to him. He hadn't taken care of himself. He happily complied with the construction industry's norm that men display beer bellies. On the other hand, my professional success increased my own confidence and our financial success allowed me to take care of myself. I became a far more social animal. I liked to dress nicely, I liked men's eyes on me, and I became something of a flirt. I was well aware of the advantage that an attractive woman has in the business world and had no hesitation in using it. However, although I had plenty of opportunities to cheat, I remained faithful."

She shifted in her chair. Her story was about to take a turn.

"My husband, son, and I spend a week each summer at the beach. We have friends who are kind enough to lend us their beach house. We go at the same time each year to coincide with my son's birthday and this year, like most, we had a passel of his friends with us. It's a big place that can accommodate quite a crowd. We had fun. The atmosphere was loose. It felt good to relax and to know I still look good enough in a bathing suit to attract the attention of, and even a little flirtation from, young men. 

She stopped for a second. "I don't want to sound too self-centered, some of those boys had a few beers in them." 

I moved to validate her, "I doubt any alcohol was necessary, you're a striking woman." 

She smiled, "Thank you, you're sweet." Turning back to her story she said, a bit wistfully, "It was nice, even the distance between my husband and I seemed submerged by all those happy teenagers.

"The kids packed up and left on Sunday. We planned to stay through Thursday, but my husband announced on Sunday night that he had to be back to work on Monday and would leave the next morning. We had a few words, which I am sure my son overheard, and we both went to bed angry. 

"The next morning, however, he had that puppy-dog look that told me he wanted to have sex. I let him know that I wasn't interested; he insisted. I pointed out that the last thing he told me the night before was that I was a selfish bitch who was happy to spend his money while complaining he spent too much time making it. Then it occurred to me: I did not particularly want his company. It was better to let him satisfy himself and leave. He crawled between my legs, thrust vigorously a few times, and came. I didn't, and I didn't even pretend. Within an hour he was on the road. I showered, threw the sheets in the washing machine, put on a robe, poured myself a cup of coffee, and took it to the porch to drink. The sun was bright, the sky blue, and I started feeling better.

"My son soon joined me, carrying his own cup of coffee. He asked if I needed a refill, which I did. After he returned, he sat down. After a few minutes of small talk he suggested that we take advantage of his father's absence and go out on the town dancing. Now I love to dance. My husband and I had often done so while he was courting me and then occasionally during the first few years of our marriage, but we hadn't gone in years. And another thing," she now looked at me shyly, "it always aroused me. I am not sure if it is the dressing up, or performing in front of a crowd, or just the physical activity. After dancing I was always ready for serious love-making." 

"Did your son know this?"

"It turns out he did. Several years before he had been at a family dinner when my sister, after a few glasses of wine, pronounced that back-in-the-day I could be a wild women after an evening on the dance floor. I had forgotten all about the conversation. He had not. I also found out, later on, that he had been on the porch outside my bedroom that morning when my husband and I had our spat and its resolution."

"Do you think he was spying on you?"

"I asked him about that and he says he was not. I believe him. However, he admits he hung out on the porch longer than propriety dictated."

"So what happened next?"

"I told him he certainly did not want to go out dancing with his mother. He insisted he did, since, after all, I was the 'foxiest woman' on the beach. I told him I had nothing to wear. He pointed out that we had credit cards. I said he was too young to get into a nightclub. He noted that he was sufficiently built and mature enough looking to pass for a twenty-one year old -- which is true -- and in any case everybody's eyes would on his hot date. I surrendered and agreed to go. 

"He then looked at me, caught my full attention, and said 'Good, but I want no more back talk from you. For the rest of the day I am the boss. Your job is to obey and have a good time; is that understood.' I was not sure if he was serious, but I replied without hesitation, 'Okay, you're the boss. I'm in your hands.' 'Good,' he said, 'you and I are going shopping. But since a son picking out clothes to accent his mother's looks might seem odd, we need a cover. Since you can certainly pass for a woman in her twenties, pick out some clothes appropriate for that age. I will dress a few years older, and with sunglasses you should be able to pass for a society lady enjoying the summer at the beach with a young man she picked up along the way.'

She stopped for a second. "It seems so crazy when I say that. I was agreeing to pose as my son's beau, but at the time it seemed, well, if not normal, like it would be fun. I was going to spend the day with someone who was going to treat me like a date. That hadn't happened in a long time."

I nodded. It was supposed to indicate I had heard her. I think what she saw was that I fully understood her feelings.

"One of the girls who had spent the weekend had left behind a pair of jeans with strategically placed rips in them. I put those on with a white tank top, sandals, and an expensive pair of sunglasses. My son put on some Docksides, shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt. When I headed for the driver's seat door of my BMW he reminded me who was in charge and held the passenger seat door open for me. I got in. After stopping to buy him a pricy set of sunglasses, we headed for the shops.

"It was so much fun, and so easy, playing his beau. Imitating one of those teenagers who had left the day before I held his hand, leaned into his body, stroked his back and arms, and rubbed his leg with my toes.

"We tried on a variety of outfits but he finally narrowed it down to two: the first one consisted of tight jeans, a white spaghetti top, and boots. The second outfit was a black leather skirt that made it about half-way to my knee, a white smock top, and a pair of red shoes. He initially wanted six inch stilettos. I held out for something more practical for the dance floor, a four-inch, chunkier, heel. I loved trying the clothes on for him. He spent enough time touching me -- at times gently stroking my face, or putting his hand on my back, and once or twice (in secret, thank god) brushing my buttocks with his hand -- to let me know he appreciated playing the attentive boyfriend at his girlfriend's fashion show. After some consideration he told the sales lady, a pretty well-tanned blonde, we would take both outfits and both sets of heels. 

"He then turned to me in front of her and instructed me on underwear. For the jeans I was to purchase thongs. For the leather skirt, I was to have panties, a garter belt, and black stockings. For both, sheer half-scoop bras with a good amount of support and the clasp in the front. At first, I couldn't believe he was so brazen, letting the sales lady know that I had no objection to publicly being treated as a sexual dress-up toy. But at the same time, I played right along. There was something about the craziness of it all, something about being treated for the first time in years as a sex object, that was intoxicating. After all, nothing would come of it and no one would ever know. I put my hand on his chest, looked in his eyes, and said, 'You are a bad boy.' He looked right back and said, 'We'll find out.'

"While I was with the sales lady picking out the underwear she handed me her business card, on which she has written her cell phone number, and told me that the two of us looked like a lot of fun and that we should call her if we had the chance. 

I wanted to ask what happened with this lady, but I refrained. I did want not to slow the momentum.

"My son paid for the clothes, using my credit card, and we drove home. As we carried the shopping bags into the house, he told me that tonight I would be in leather and, graciously, the shorter heels. I spent the next few hours getting ready. When I joined him in the living room he let out an appreciative wolf-whistle and asked me to turn around, which I did. He took his time inspecting me. His face showed his approval. He, in turn, looked dazzling. He had taken the time to make sure that his appearance was perfect; the contrast with my husband's ever-slovenly presentation was manifest. At times I had noted that he was no longer a boy, but it was not until that night that I fully appreciated that he had become a beautiful young man.

"We went to the car, he opened my door, and I got in. I could see him admiring my legs. He let me know that proper etiquette required a young lady in a leather skirt and garters, while driving with her date, to make sure the garters are always visible. While I had not heard of this custom I did not protest. I scooted forward on the seat to comply.

"We arrived at Lilette, a French restaurant overlooking the bay. My son had reserved seats on the balcony, the better, he informed me, to show off his hot sweetheart. I was not presented a menu. My son had told the staff when he made the reservation that he would order for both of us. After placing the order he allowed me one glass of wine with the caution that he wanted to make sure I was alert all evening. The food was wonderful, the service warm and genuine, and the company great. He did have one unusual request after we finished coffee and dessert: 'I have so much enjoyed watching your cute tush when you have left the table, I think you need to wash your hands one more time.' I immediately complied, adding an extra jiggle to my walk when I went to the ladies room.

"I remembered the rule about garters on the way to the club, pulling my dress up to reveal several inches of the straps. We got there about ten. Although I heard that the place could rock until two or three in the morning, my son indicated we would not be out that late. He was right about getting in, we sailed right though the door, no one asked any questions or requested any proof of age.

"I sat down and he visited the bar, returning with a beer for himself and a pink drink for me. He told me it was called a pink lady. It had been popular in the 1920's and 1930's when proper women were allowed only lady-like cocktails. I tasted it and the look on my face must have revealed my disapproval. 'Too sweet?' He asked. I nodded. 'Then it fits you perfectly.' It was a goofy line, buy I couldn't help but smile. He placed his leg against mine under the table and took my hand is his. I found myself leaning against him, my head nestled against his shoulder. We sat there for about fifteen minutes, nursing our drinks and surveying the club. He asked me to dance. I agreed. We headed for the dance floor.

"It was wild. My son is a good dancer and the place was packed. I let myself go, allowing the music to flow through me and lost myself in the sweating gyrating bodies around me. We were on the floor for most of the next hour. Then the music stopped. My son put his arm around me and pulled me close while the DJ announced it was time for the featured dancers to take center stage. He then pointed to my son and I and we entered a circle formed by the other dancers."

"Do you know why he picked the two of you?" I inquired.

"No, I never asked. We were not the best dancers on the floor, but we were pretty good. It was a beach crowd, and they can be on the scruffy side. Maybe it was because we were the best dressed, maybe it was because we looked so comfortable together, or maybe it was just a magical evening. I don't know."

"I guess its not important," I said. "Tell me what happened next."

"The DJ played a sexy song, the crowd clapped and shouted, and my son and I put on a show. When the number ended we were both dripping with sweat and everyone cheered when I jumped in his arms. Then he kissed me. It was not a son's kiss, it was a lover's kiss. And I was right there with him. His tongue was deep in my mouth; mine was stroking his. I never knew something as small as a tongue could feel like it was exploring my entire body, but this one did. For a moment all I cared about was his body against mine and his tongue inside me. Then I remembered he was my son. He seemed to sense my thoughts. He broke the kiss, leaned down, and whispered that it was time for some fresh air. He took my hand and we headed for the door while people in the crowd whooped it up for us.

She looked at me. "There were all kinds of thoughts rocketing through my mind. I'm still not sure if I can explain it. It had been a game; then, all of a sudden, it seemed real.

"We walked outside to the club's deck on the bay. I leaned against the rail gazing at the water. He held me from behind, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and breasts and his body pressed tightly against mine. I could feel his cock...." 

She stopped, and looked up. "I didn't mean to be vulgar."


The Therapist's Journey Ch. 01



Theresa, like I, had been brought up not to use such words. I moved to reassure her. "You need to use the words that feel right to you. If you don't, you will tell the story in a way that is not true for you. I need to know what it felt like to you. I don't want a sanitized version."

She smiled, but still seemed unsure. Theresa knew basic Anglo-Saxon, but had been taught it was not lady-like to use it. I decided to help, "You said he leaned into you, pushing his hard cock into your ass."

She was still hesitant. I decided to give her, and me, a moment to compose our thoughts. I went to get another bottled-water. My inner-voice was screaming, "What the hell are you doing? She said she felt her son's cock. When did you decide to add a few details, like it was erect and jammed up against her ass." I wasn't only giving her permission, I was egging her on. While I could pretend my interest in her story was clinical, the truth was that I wanted to hear her account in as much detail as I could. I was getting turned-on. I was supposed to be a therapist, not a voyeur. 

When I arrived back at my chair Theresa noted that I had left the water behind. I retrieved it, gave it to her, picked up my pen and pad, which had almost no notes on it, and asked her to continue. The clock stationed behind my clients showed her hour was up, but I was going to give her as much time as she needed.

In the short break she had gathered the resolve to go forward. 

"His cock wasn't only hard, it was like a piece of iron. It was powerful and strong and I could feel it burning into me. As he held me tight he kissed the top of my head, then my cheek, then my neck, and then his tongue gently nuzzled my ear. His arms were resting squarely on my breasts and I could feel my nipples hardening. He whispered into my ear, 'You were amazing tonight.' I turned my head towards him and after a gentle peck on the lips, told him I could not recall having a better time. He softly kissed me.

"He turned me around to face him. I spread my legs and put my arms around his waist to pull him close to me. I could feel his erection pressing against me. Glancing down I asked, 'Does that fellow know I'm your mother?' He smiled, 'I've explained it, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He just knows your hot. However, while I may not be in charge of him, if I recall correctly I'm still in charge of you, so kiss me'

"These kisses were not like the one on the dance floor, which was all lust and excitement. These were gentle and sweet. His lips and tongue played with my lips, there were not a millimeter he didn't explore. While the tips of our tongues touched and caressed each other, he never pushed deep into my mouth. He did reach under my dress and pull my rump against," here she stopped a second, her determination temporarily faltering, and looked at me before resuming, "his cock, which was glued to my," again she stopped a second, "cunt.'"

My resolve not to egg her on dissolved. "Cunt and cock are fine words. I even know fuck and suck."

She smiled, "We'll get to those soon. I don't know if we were making out by the bay for five minutes or fifty. I did know that I have never been that aroused and have never felt so alive. When he leaned down and said it was time to go home, I was ready. I took his arm in mine. We walked to the car, he opened the door, and I got in. By the time he got behind the wheel I was not offering a hint of garter; he got the full view.

"As we drove home my son noticed the time of the clock. It was 11:45 P.M. 'When you ceded control to me for the day, I meant not a calendar day but a practical day, from the time we wake up til the time we go to bed.' The he paused and corrected himself. 'Make that the time we go to sleep.' He was not going to get an argument from me. 

"When we got back to the house he told me to make the bed in the bedroom I had shared with my husband and meet him on the porch. Before I turned to go I remembered that I had put the sheets in the washer, but not in the dryer. He must have seen the confusion in my eyes, for he assured me 'Don't worry babe, I put them in the dryer.' I put my hands in his and leaned forward and kissed him. 

"Sally, I don't know much about kiss theory, but it seemed to me that when we kissed on the dance floor it was about desire and excitement, and when we kissed by the bay it was about comfort and seduction. This kiss simply let him know how much I loved and adored him.

"When I returned to the porch he handed me a glass of wine. We danced to some slow sexy music he found on the radio. There was a full moon and I could hear the waves crashing into the beach. The scent of the salt water saturated the air. We were alone on the porch and had miles of beach to ourselves. With the heels I was the perfect height as he placed both hands on my ass and started to gently rock my cunt against his rock-hard penis. My pussy was on fire. 

"After a few minutes he whispered into my ear, 'Unbutton your blouse,' and allowed just enough room between our bodies for me to do so. I instantly obeyed, although my hands were shaking so badly that I fumbled with the buttons. I then heard him say, 'Drop it to the ground.' I did. A few minutes later he told me, 'Loosen your belt, and let your skirt fall to the ground.' While I undid my belt the back of my hand rubbed against his penis. I could feel its heat through his pants. As my skirt slid down my body to the porch, I reached over to fondle him, but then hesitated. 'Can I?,' I asked him. He nodded and I started to caress the thick hard bulge in his pants. He was huge. I couldn't believe I had spent years living down the hall from that piece of meat without taking advantage of it. I intended to make up for lost time.

"I felt his hand undo the front clasp on my bra. When he said, 'Take it off,' I let it fall from my body. Now I was dressed only in my panties, the garter, stockings, and heels, my naked tits pressing against him. He told me he wanted to look at me. I stepped away, standing in the moonlight. He asked me to turn around, which I did. I was so aroused that even the soft breeze across my naked breasts sent electrical shivers of bliss through my body. 

"I like you in lingerie."

"Then that is how you will have me. Come to Mommy, baby."

"He did. As we kissed his hands explored my breasts, caressing and stroking them. Occasionally he would bend and take them into his mouth or lick them, paying special attention to my areolas and nipples, which were hard and erect. 'I love your tits,' he told me, 'They are as beautiful as I dreamed. But your nipples are magnificent.'"

I was staring at her breasts. I looked back to her face and asked in a pitched tone of voice,"Describe them for me, please."

"I've always been proud of them. My areolas are dark, close to a creamy brown. They are also wide, maybe two inches across. My nipples have a reddish hue, which helps them stand out against my areolas. I guess it would be inappropriate to show you."

We could make an exception is what I thought. 'You're right, I shouldn't have asked the question," is what I said.

"That's okay," she said. I wondered if she could sense my arousal. "At that point I started to undo his belt buckle while slithering down his body to my knees. I looked up, gave him my best pleading look, and half begging said, 'Mommy wants to suck her baby's cock.' He smiled, but placed his hands under my arms and lifted me up. "Baby wants Mommy to suck his cock too, but I want the first load of cum we share in your cunt. I want to leave it with the womb where I started. The first time I have you will be in the bed you share with your husband and my father. I intend to take you from him in the most intimate location I can find.'"

"What did you say?" I asked her.

"I don't think I said anything. I just headed for the bedroom. At that point he could have had me anywhere and anyway he wanted."

"He told me to sit on the bed. He kneeled and took off my shoes, stockings, garter, and panties, tossing them onto a chair in the corner of the room. He told me to take off his clothes. I slipped the shirt from his body and admired his delicious muscular chest. After I kissed and teased his nipples I started to lay his shirt across the chair. He shook his head, 'Put it on a hanger and hang it in the closet.' I did so. I removed his shoes and remembering his instructions, carried them to the closet. I had already unbuckled his belt, so I slipped off his pants easily. As I took off his pants my cunt, which was already creaming, went into overdrive. Whatever made that tent in his underwear was huge. I couldn't get it out of my mind as I stumbled around the closet looking for a place to hang his pants. 

"When I came out of the closet he instructed me to lay on the bed, face down. I could hear him approaching from behind and felt the bed shift under his weight. The next sensation was something I did not expect. His tongue slid up the crevice of my ass, stopping to tickle and probe my anus. As the same time he slipped his hand under me, inserting his thumb in my vagina and caressing my clitoris with his other fingers. There was no build-up, I just came. I came like I had never come before. Laying there, my body shuddering, I could feel the orgasm from my cunt to the tips of my fingers and toes.

"After letting me catch my breath he rolled me onto my back and started gently kissing me. His right hand roved freely over my body. His mouth explored my neck and ears, then my breasts. He enjoyed my breasts when he was a baby; he liked them more now. He alternated between sucking my nipples into his mouth while lathering them with his tongue and kissing and licking the rest of my breasts. 

"He then turned to my sex. 'Does Mommy want her baby boy to eat her pussy?,' he asked. He didn't wait for an answer. His tongue started at the bottom of my vagina and moved upwards in one long stroke. As he hit by clit, my body jerked and I thrust my hips upward. 

"'Mommy has a sweet pussy. Does Mommy mind if I eat her sweet pussy?'

"Again he didn't wait for an answer, but I am sure he could tell from my groans, from the sweat on my body, and the way I held his head tight against me, that I didn't mind. I would later learn that he has a real talent for holding a woman on the edge of an orgasm, extending and deepening the experience. That night, however, we, or at least this woman, were in a mad rush and my orgasm soon overwhelmed me. My arms and legs jerked randomly before they fell numbly to the bed. For a moment I blacked out. After I recovered I saw him wiping my pussy juice from his face. I also saw his penis; at some point he had taken off his underwear. It was beautiful.

By this time it was all I could to keep from slipping my hand into my skirt. Any hope I had of making a rational therapeutic decision was long gone. Which explains my next question. "Describe it to me."

"We never had him circumcised. He is about, actually I know exactly how long he is. We've measured it. Erect, its 8 inches." She held out her small hand, making an oval to demonstrate her next point. "When I hold his erection in my hand the tip of my index finger is about this close to my thumb." 

The distance she demonstrated was about three quarters of an inch. 

"It has a sightly purplish tint and there is a vein that runs its entire length along the bottom. When he is hard I feel its strength and power in my bones."

She stopped for a second; it was not hard to imagine what was in her mind's eye.

"I guess I got us off track, please continue," I said.

"He crawled forward, straddling me. His knees were between my legs and his hands, on which he held himself up, next to my shoulders. 'Put it inside you.' I took it in my right hand. Sally, it was so hard and hot, I could feel the heat from the blood inside it. I nuzzled its tip inside me. I expected him to push down hard. I guess I was used to his father. He didn't. He didn't move at all. Desperate to have him inside me I started to push my hips up. As I did, he lowered himself into me. We met in the middle and then he slowly pushed me back into the bed. Although he is much bigger than his father he slipped in easily; I was soaking wet. We started fucking. He kept constant pressure on me. His hips and body rolled across my clitoris while he moved his dick inside me. He visited places inside me I didn't know I had."

She stopped a second. "That is not quite right. Since that first time I have become very aware of how he makes love to me. That first time I was not. After he entered me the only thing I was aware of was my cunt. My being centered on the intense arousal between my legs. I do remember he occasionally licked and sucked on my tits, but they seemed connected directly to my vagina. Every time his tongue caressed my nipples I spasmed between my legs. He later told me that he actually held himself above me for a long time and studied my reactions. He said he wanted to remember the pleasure on my face the first time we made love. He finally lowered his body on to me. I could hear his voice in my ear. 

"'I love you and I want you. I've wanted you for years. I want my sexy beautiful wonderful mother.'

"He went on. 'Your even tighter and warmer and softer then I imagined. I love your pussy. Its perfection is molding to and caressing my cock. Do you like your son's cock? It is hard enough for you? It is big enough for you? Does it make your cunt happy?"

"It was all I could do to groan 'yes'.

"But he wouldn't stop. I think he sensed how close I was too exploding. He went on, 'Who owns your cunt? Does it belong to me or to Daddy?' Who owns your cunt? Who owns Mommy's cunt?'

"I could feel my orgasm coming on like a wave. I pulled his head next to mine and started chanting,"Fuck Mommy, fuck Mommy, fuck Mommy." I grabbed his ass. Then I came. As it moved through me I felt his cock twitching. Then he groaned and filled me with his cum. 

"Afterwards we laid in each other's arm, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and trying to catch our breath. It took a few minutes, but when I finally could talk I rolled over, my back to his front, his now flaccid cock resting against my butt, and his arm laying lazily across my tits. 'I didn't answer your question. My cunt belongs to you. My tits belong to you. My mouth belongs to you. I belong to you. I hope you were serious about wanting me for years, because I intend to make up for lost time.' He kissed me on the back of the head and we fell asleep."

I have a rule about touching my clients. Unlike some therapists I do not hug or kiss my clients; I try to limit myself to a hand shake. There is so much emotional intimacy in what I do that I think it important to establish whatever boundaries I can. On a personal level, I am an attractive woman and too many clients, having bonded with me on some of the most intimate issues of their lives, believe that the bond should become physical. By keeping my distance from them I provide no unintended encouragement. Now, I converted my rule to a guideline. I left my chair and sat down next to Theresa, taking her hand in mine. I brought it to my mouth and kissed it. "I assume that I am only the third person in the world to know about this." She nodded her head yes and then turned to me, "You don't think I'm a bad person, do you?" 

I gave her my best warm smile. "No. I haven't heard a single word that makes you sound like a bad person." I placed my hand on her back and rubbed gently. "It didn't stop with that one night, did it?"

"No, it didn't. We were scheduled to leave first thing Thursday morning, but that left him and I alone on Tuesday and Wednesday. I don't think we would have left the bed except for the fact that he wanted to fuck me on the beach, and in the sand dunes behind the beach, and on a island in the bay he had discovered the year before, and on the deck of the club where we first kissed. That last one was on Thursday at 5:00 A.M., as we were leaving town. I loved every second of it, but couldn't stop thinking abut the fact that I was in an incestuous relationship with my son. On Wednesday I decided that once we returned home it was over. He said he respected my resolve, but would not hold it against me if I fell short of my promise." She smiled, "that is how he convinced me that the 5:00 A.M. liaison was a good idea. 

"We got home late-afternoon on Thursday. We didn't have sex, which wasn't that hard since his Dad was home. But we couldn't put aside our own physical comfort with each other. I found myself touching him constantly and his hands always seemed to be on me. That night, when we watched television, my husband settled into his Lazy Boy and I cuddled into my son's arms on the couch. He was good. He respected my wishes. I knew he wanted to caress me and his hands had easy access to my breasts. He had pulled a thick blanket over the two of us; he would have gotten away with it. I think he knew I would have offered no resistance. But still, he didn't. Instead he rubbed my neck and upper back and when his father announced it was time for bed, he let me go. 

"My husband's uninspired love-making that night certainly didn't help. The next morning I cooked breakfast for my two men and kissed my husband good-bye at the door. As he backed out of the driveway I walked over to my son and kissed him hard on the lips and called the office to tell them I was extending my vacation another day. I am confident my son and I were naked in my bedroom before my husband got out of the subdivision. We haven't stopped since."

She paused, "The day off probably did me some good." She gestured between her legs, "it had gotten pretty sore down there." 

She turned to me, now serious. "Sally, I need to know if what I'm doing is wrong. I need to know if I am harming my son. And if I am, I need to know how to stop.

I kissed her on the cheek. "Theresa, I can't understand, diagnose, and cure problems in one session. Sometimes it takes two or three." That drew a smile. "I have 4:00 o'clock open on Monday. I can see you then." She told me that she was free at that time and I entered her on my schedule.

I took her hand. She seemed reluctant to leave. There was something else she wanted to say. So I asked, "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?" 

She replied, "Its just that my husband will be out of town this weekend and I guess I was hoping -- I know its silly -- for an answer today so I would know whether it was okay to take advantage of his absence." 

I stroked her pretty face with my left hand. "Its not silly. However, if I told you not to, would you do it any." 

"Probably, he's mighty convincing," she answered. 

"I bet he is. Since we can't start out our relationship by you ignoring my advice, I will have to take a pass on ths one. You need to make up your own mind."

She look disappointed. She wanted permission. And then I, contrary to my best instincts, gave it to her.

"I guess if you've been doing harm, there is probably not much more you can do in a single weekend." 

"Thank you," she said.

As we got to the door Theresa turned and asked, "Sally, I know I've taken up a lot of your time, but is there anything else you need to know?" 

There were indeed a host of questions rattling in my mind, like did you ever get to suck his cock, how often do you suck his cock, and how many times can he go a night? I thought it best not to share those with her. 

"You told me just the right amount," I said. "I will see you Monday." 

At that moment we both leaned forward and apparently moved by the same impulse, kissed each other on the lips. It seemed like more than a peck, not a lot more, but still more. We hugged and then I watched her walk to the elevator. We waved goodbye, she got in the elevator, and I closed the door to my outer office.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 02



I would like to thank all for the comments, observations, and suggestions in response to my first posting on Literotica. I appreciated them all. Unsure of the appropriate etiquette for this site I have not responded to the individual messages. I hope I have offended no one. However, the pleasure I have taken in receiving your comments has caused me to cure one area in which I have been remiss, my own failure to comment on stories written by other Literotica authors.

Several people made suggestions for the plot. Plot-wise, this story is essentially written. I am, as time permits, in the process of polishing what has already been completed. However, I purposefully tried to keep the story open, whether by way of flashback or other, for the further adventures of these characters. Thus, the suggestions made to date and any further ones are welcome. I am already contemplating some of the ideas and will see if I have the skill and imagination to incorporate them into further adventures for Theresa, Sally, family, and friends. 

II -- Sally Under the Influence of Theresa's Confession - The Weekend

According to the clock in my office it was 6:00 P.M. The staff was gone. It felt like Theresa had walked in fifteen minutes, not two hours, ago. 

I retrieved the digital recorder from the office console. In order to defend the growing number of lawsuits filed by disgruntled former patients over advice never actually given, my malpractice insurer required me and all its insureds to record their sessions. I am not sure how many of my patients are actually aware of it, but when they sign the forms presented on their first consultation they consent to my recording the sessions. There is a lot of controversy in the profession about the propriety of this practice and the recordings, at the least, must be treated professionally and confidentially. Their misuse is a significant ethical violation. I store mine in a small safe in my home. Five years after the therapeutic relationship ends, the recordings are destroyed. I looked at the recorder in my hand; I was pretty sure my insurer would not approve of my performance with Theresa.

I normally deal with the day's stresses with a tough two-hour work out. The best I would be able to do today was sixty minutes. Maybe that would take my mind off the steam between my legs. While changing clothes I kept repeating the mantra not to let my emotions become intertwined with those of my clients, but it was doing no good. My hand kept sliding down to my soaked vagina and distended clitoris. I managed to make it to my car, but at every opportunity continued to play with myself. My hand had slipped back into my leotards at a red light when I noticed the driver of an eighteen-wheeler enjoying the show. I let him pull out in front of me -- I didn't need to let that guy see my license plate number -- and stopped in an empty bank parking lot. There I brought myself off. I arrived at the gym even later than I hoped, but got forty-five hard minutes on the treadmill.

I drove home with my leotards bathed with sweat, which I hoped disguised any lingering flow from my masturbation and the scent of my arousal. In an effort to distract myself I did wrist strengthening exercises with a hand grip I kept in the car. 

After parking my car in the garage I heard my son swimming in the pool and decided to come through the back gate to say hello. I caught his eye and he swam over. I had the pool installed about six years ago, when he first showed interest in competitive swimming. It had been a hit with him and the kids in the neighborhood and he was now a solid performer on his school's swim team. He was not headed for the Olympics, but he was pretty darn good. 

"How was the day at the office?" he asked.

"Good," I replied, "I had an interesting new client. I'm running late. Would you mind cutting your work-out short and chopping up the onions, bell peppers, garlic, and basil on the bottom shelf of the frig?"

"No problem, Mom."

"Thanks honey. " I turned to go inside. I was thinking about how Theresa had been oblivious to the fact that her son saw her not only as his mother, but as a woman -- an attractive woman. Could I have the same blind spot? As I walked towards the glass door that led from the house to the pool I glanced at the curved mirror I had installed when I bought the pool. It allowed me to monitor the pool and environs from inside the house so I could intervene before teenage rough housing turned potentially fatal. It seemed my son had his eyes squarely on my butt. But the image was somewhat distorted and, maybe, it was my imagination.

After stripping I climbed into the shower. I would have preferred a nice long one, but my son had a date with Katie that evening and I had promised to feed him first. Still wondering if my boy had checked out my butt, I decided to continue the experiment. After the shower I put on a pair of tight jeans, a bra, and a loose fitting red shirt with a tendency to flop open. 

He was in the kitchen finishing the vegetables. He was still in his swim trunks and while I had been wondering if he judged me sexually, I found myself now doing the same with him. I liked what I saw. I had always thought my baby was beautiful. There has always been enough admiring females hanging around the house to let me know I was not alone, but my session with Theresa had given me a new perspective. 

He had a swimmer's body: long and lean. His waist was narrow and his shoulders broad. As he chopped away I could see a slight ripple in his well-muscled back. I walked up quietly behind him and tapped him on the butt -- which was nice and hard -- and leaned forward. As expected, my blouse fell forward, offering him a view of my breasts. At the same time I glanced at the refrigerator, averting my gaze while keeping him in my peripheral vision. He took the bait, his eyes wandered down.

"Thank you honey, I really appreciate this. I'll take over from here. You go get ready for your date."

"No problem Mom. I'm glad I could help." 

Then, before he left the room, he did something unexpected. He tapped me right back on the butt.

I added some chicken to the vegetables and sauteed them in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I had just finished setting out the plates when my son arrived at the table dressed nicely, he was wearing a polo shirt and slacks. He started to serve himself, but I told him he had already done enough and brought him his food. I leaned over his plate and as I scooped dinner from the skillet, allowing him an extended view down my shirt. Again he took the bait. As we finished and cleaned up I gave him several more peeks, all of which he seemed to enjoy. He was also making far less effort to hide his interest. When he leaned over to kiss me before he left he whispered in my ear, "You do need to do something about that blouse, it put on quite a show tonight."

He knew I was flashing him! As he headed towards the car, I headed to my bedroom to deal with the fire between my legs.

I was still in a post-orgasmic haze when my cell phone went off. It was my boy friend, if that is the right term for a thirty-seven year old woman dating a fifty-six year old man. I had started seeing Robert about a year after my divorce. He was a distinguished physician and a leader in local society. We had talked about getting married, but had always decided that the dangers of a blended family -- his daughter was the same age as my son -- advised against it. I suspect that both of us, in fact, liked it just the way we had it: a committed relationship with maximum independence. 

"Hey guy."

"Hey sweetie," he replied. "You sound tired."

"It was a long day and I've been running late for most of it."

"You work too hard. And speaking of that, I was calling to check on the race tomorrow."

There was a series of fund-raisers for a local child-care facility scheduled the following date. Robert was on the Board of Directors. I was in charge of the five kilometer run in the morning and would be his date at the cocktail party that would end the day.

"Everything is under control. I spoke to all the team captains earlier today and I can't find a single problem to address. Do you think we can get some alone time after the party tomorrow night?"

"My daughter is with her mother this weekend. If you can get rid of your son, sure. I wish I could be with you now, but there is still so much work to do."

"I understand. In any case a woman consulted with me today with a," I paused, "problem is not the right word, let's say an issue that I have never dealt with before. I going to spend some time tonight doing research."

"She's lucky to have you. I hope you find what you are looking for. One last thing, I do appreciate all the work you've done. It's a shame that the race is scheduled the same time as your son's swim meet. I know you hate not being there to cheer."

"I'm just trying to do my part for the community. And I talked to my son, he understands." 

We hung up and I got out of bed. I could access the research facilities of the American Psychiatric Association from my iPad so I grabbed it, a notepad and pen, and a glass of sherry and headed for the couch. 

My research found that incest was not considered a socially acceptable alternative lifestyle. It had been condemned throughout history and around the world. Exceptions were few and sui generis. The marriage options of Pharaonic Egypt's ruling family may have been limited to each other, but this both centralized power in the family and affirmed their divinity. Gods do not court and marry mortals. Of course, the need to create a pervasive normative structure against incest meant that incestuous desires were equally pervasive. There is no societal taboo against bringing elephants to church because no one brings elephants to church. That the rules against incest were as old as humanity established that family members were rife with sexual desire for each other since the dawn of human history. In this sense there was nothing abnormal about the intensity of the sexual longing Theresa described. 

The primary reason provided for its taboo status was the increased risk of birth defects, but the actual risk was much smaller than I expected and didn't seem to justify the taboo. While studies vary, most of them estimate a 2% to 3% risk of birth defects in the general population. The risk in an incestual union was between 4% and 5%. This was not good, but it was less than the risk faced by a pregnant woman over forty years of age and no one suggested prohibiting mature woman from having babies. 

I would discuss these points with Theresa, but I saw nothing here that overrode her freedom to choose.

The next two topics were a bit more straightforward. One was normal development. Someone involved in a sexual relationship with a family member might lose out on the opportunity to develop social skills. If I was a teenaged boy living with a sexually-available woman who looked like Theresa, I doubt I'd learn anything about dating. I saw nothing to be concerned about here. Miles, as described by Theresa, was far from a social misanthrope. There was also the problem of how to end such a relationship. The conclusion of most romantic and sexual relationships was difficult; how to do it amidst the tangles of a family's other concerns more complicated still. I would discuss this with Theresa but, again, that was a risk that she was free to accept.

In the end I saw only one real basis for concern: consent. Theirs was not an obvious case of lack of consent; Miles had seduced Theresa, not forced himself on her. However, the question of consent was tricky. Every family came with power imbalances. At what age and level of development could a son or a daughter, who had been brought up to obey his or her parent, be said to freely consent to a sexual relationship? I was surprised to find that these concerns ran in the other direction; there were numerous examples of children taking sexual advantage of dependant parents. 

Theresa was intelligent adult, but she was also in a dull unimaginative marriage from which her son promised relief. It seemed clear he enjoyed dominating her. In our session she explained how he had made her promise to obey him and not only claimed her as his property and talked about taking her -- as if she was an object -- from his father, but demanded that she affirm his status. He has also required that she neatly fold his clothes while he threw her garb in a heap. Of course, she had said that she had enjoyed aggressive sex early in her relationship with her husband. Her son's demands might just be her definition of normal. 

I looked at my note pad, with its scribbles about incest. I had a lot to discuss with Theresa, but I would have to spend time reorganizing my thoughts. I was also getting turned on. For the third time that day I slipped my hand between my legs. I had a sweet orgasm and fell asleep.

When I woke up at 2:00 A.M. my first concern was whether my son was home. My second was that he might be home. How would I explain that I was asleep in the living room with my hand down my pants and surrounded by pages of notes about incest? I went to his bedroom and cracked open the door. He was asleep.

I slept well the rest of the night and when I woke up my libido seemed a bit more under control. I put on the official race tee shirt, my favorite pair of little red running shorts, the whistle that indicated I was the boss, and my running shoes. I made a few telephone calls to ensure everything was under control. This left me with some time to kill -- I didn't need to at the race site for another hour -- so I decided to do something special for my boy. Even though I would miss his swim meet, I could cook him his favorite pre-meet breakfast. After getting all the preliminaries ready I stuck my head in his room and told him to get his butt out of bed, his mother was cooking him the works. I got a mumbled what I think was thanks and returned to the kitchen.

He stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes later. My eyes soaked in his body. My impression of the night before was right on; he was a handsome young man.

I poured him a cup of coffee and brought him a spread of eggs, ham, and grits.

"What time did you get in last night?" I asked.

"A few minutes after midnight. I broke curfew." He looked up, "I beg forgiveness."

"You're forgiven this time, but don't make it a habit."

"Thanks, you were sure crashed out on the couch."

He had seen me. I felt a need to explain. "I had my first session with a new client yesterday. She presented some issues that I thought I needed to research. I must have fallen asleep."

"I was going to wake you up, but you looked pretty comfy."

Had he seen what I was working on? How could I ask him? I ventured the following: "You know what I do is confidential. Anything you saw should be treated that way."

I returned to the kitchen counter to pour myself another cup of coffee.

"Your secrets are safe with me, Mom." 

I had no idea what that meant.

He suddenly stood up. "I just noticed what time it is. I've got to be on the team bus in fifteen minutes. I know I am supposed to clean my own dishes, but you don't mind doing it for me this once, do you?"

"No honey, you know I'd do anything for you."

"Thanks." And then, as he headed for the door he turned back to me. "Those will be some mighty lucky guys at the race. Your butt looks great in those shorts." He was out the door before I could manage a retort.

The race went according to plan. I only had to blow my whistle twice. I updated Robert and headed back to the house to get ready for the party. Robert was a gentle man and treated me like a queen. He was also gentle in the bedroom and as I bathed and applied my make-up I thought about how I could spice up the night. The last twenty-four hours had put my libido in hyper-drive. I selected a sleeveless white cocktail dress. It hung down to my knees and was pinched tightly at my waist. From there on up it clung appreciatively to my body. It managed to display my ample bosom without revealing any cleavage. After slipping on orange patent leather sandals with a 4 ½ inch heel, I stood in front of the mirror.

I could see why my son might think I was still attractive. My mother was white and my father black. My bi-racial skin is mahogany in color. Years of work at the gym had ensured that I have retained an hour-glass figure. I was curvy, toned, slim, and athletic. After spending years experimenting with my hair, I had settled on a closely cropped pixie style. My hair now emphasized my face with its well-defined chin and high pronounced cheekbones. 

When I got back to the kitchen I saw that my iPhone had a message on it. My son had won two races and wanted to know if he could spend the night celebrating with his friend and fellow swimmer William. I texted back in the affirmative. I had long suspected he purposely picked my date nights to spend at friends' houses, allowing me an excuse to spend the night with Robert rather than hurry home to avoid setting a bad example. I drove to Robert's house to co-host the party.

He met me at the door and leaned down to kiss me.

"You look great tonight." The tone of his voice indicated he was just not being polite.

"Glad you like it. I have been thinking about you all day long. And my son is spending the night with a friend."

I kissed his lips. He got my meaning.

The party was perfect. Most of our community's leaders were there. We even got the ever-busy mayor to drop in. Everyone had a good time and we were happy to announce we had exceeded our fund raising goals. After the caterers left, promising to return at noon the next day to clean up, I grabbed Robert's hand and headed for the bedroom.

We undressed. I pushed him back on to the bed and started kissing him. I licked his nipples, licked his mouth, eyes, nose, and chin, and even contemplated taking him in my mouth. I had performed oral sex on him only a handful of times. He acknowledged he liked it -- he certainly came fast enough -- but the next day always managed to drop a comment to the effect that it seemed a bit slutty. This night I wanted him in me and he was only generally good for one orgasm a night. Thus, oral sex was out. I asked him if he minded if I got on top. When he said no, I straddled him and slid down on his penis. I tried to focus on my own orgasm, minimizing his thrusting while focusing on sliding my clitoris and hips across his pubic bone. I closed my eyes and the image of Theresa and Miles fucking in the same position infiltrated my mind. Except I had no idea what Miles looked like. In my fantasy he started to look a lot like my own son. Then, Theresa suddenly started to look a lot like me. I tried to push the image out of my mind, which distracted me from what was going on between my legs. The orgasm that had been so close was gone and then, frustratingly, Robert came. I tried to keep the action going, but Robert asked me to stop. His penis was always hyper-sensitive after an orgasm. I laid next to him. He was soon snoring. He would be out for another eight hours.

Sex with Robert was always hit-and-miss, but that night I did something I had never done before. I left the bedroom and walked down the hall to an empty guest bedroom. I placed my finger on my clitoris. I tried to fantasize about Robert, but I knew it was pointless. I gave up fighting it and imagined myself on all fours, ass in the air, my son fucking me from behind. He was slamming into me hard. One of his hands was wrapped in my short hair, pulling my head up high. The other reached up the right side of my body to my breast, half-fondling it and half-using it to hold me in place. He ordered me to play with myself and I obeyed, reaching with by right hand to fondle my sex. When I had entered the empty bedroom my plan had been a nice long slow masturbation. That was not going to happen; I came quickly and powerfully. After taking a few minutes to savor the feelings in my body, I caught my breath, cleared the cob-webs, and returned to Robert's bed.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 02



Wearing the pyjamas I kept at his house, I cooked Robert breakfast the next morning. He said I had been pretty wild the night before. I replied that although I always wanted him, last night I just wanted him more. We moved out to the porch with our coffee and the Sunday newspaper. About 11:30 he noted that the caterers would be returning soon. I packed my stuff and drove home.

My son was not home, and if history was any guide, he was probably just getting out of bed. I decided to complete my research and organize my materials for the following day. I put on my favorite orange bikini. It was not too revealing. It left the upper third of my breast exposed and fully covered my behind, but still it was a bikini. I gathered my material and sat in a recliner in the shaded area by the pool. I had completed most of my preparation when the warm weather sapped my resolve and I relaxed, closed my eyes, and started to free associate. How had I gotten here? 

I met Paul, my former husband and the father of my son, when I was a freshman at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. I had finished third in the Miss LSU contest and so was in the winner's court when she was introduced at the half-time of a football game. As we left the field the players came back onto it. I couldn't distinguish one from another; they were all big and wore matching equipment and helmets. Paul, however, noticed me. During the second half of the game one of team's trainers brought me a note from Paul, who identified himself as number 40, and asking me to team party scheduled for that night. Of course, I spent most of the rest of the game following number 40. He was, I learned later, a back-up safety. He did not play a lot, but in the fourth quarter he made a game saving tackle on a punt return that clinched our victory.

The party was at one of the fraternity houses. A bit nervous, I asked a couple of girlfriends to go with me. When we got there the crowd was flowing out of the house and all over the grounds. I thought it was going to be impossible to find a man whom I had only seen in a football helmet. I was about to suggest we leave when I heard a voice behind me.

"I didn't know if you would come; I'm glad you did. I see you brought an escort. My name is Paul Barry." 

He was beautiful. Sandy blond hair, blues eyes, and built like what he was, a college football player. He escorted us into the frat house to the kind of cheers reserved at LSU for football heroes. It took about five minutes for my friends to realize I no longer needed their services and they merged into the crowd.

I lost my virginity that night. We made love that night and almost every night after that. He was fun to be around, with a grace and confidence I had never known in a man before. He seemed to know half the campus. 

When he took me home at Christmas I also discovered he was wealthy. When we pulled up to a mini-mansion in the most expensive subdivision in the city he told me, for the first time, that his family owned fast food franchises throughout the region. He also warned me that his parents could be cold and controlling.

He was right. While they were stonily polite, there was no warmth. They made no effort to hide the point of their questions: my suitability as a daughter. Paul, so confident and outgoing everywhere else, was cowed in their presence. He did nothing to defend me. My response to their judgmental tone was to answer their questions honestly. I was proud of myself and my background; I saw no reason to sugar coat my history. I was born in New Orleans. My mother, a licensed practical nurse, was white. My father, a bus-driver, black. They never married. Mom reported that he had hung around for the first few years of my life, but had eventually disappeared. I had no recollection of him. My mother was determined that I not repeat her mistakes and taught me to work hard, obey the rules, and be a lady. I was the valedictorian of my high school glass and was awarded a scholarship to LSU, where I intended to major in psychology. 

Paul and I had our first fight that night. I was angry over his failure to stand up to his parents. He said no one talked to his parents the way I had. I told him he should learn to. It took several weeks for the coolness between us to dissipate, but I loved him and we soon returned to our former ways. For the most part we avoided family functions; when we did I continued to suffer second-rate treatment while Paul sat silent. It remained a simmering issue between us. In January of his senior year he landed a job at a major oil field company and proposed. By then I had given up any hope he would ever stand up to his parents. After he promised he would never go to work for them, I accepted. I wanted no part of a big society wedding, but it was required for someone with Paul's background. The constant friction with his parents sapped most of the pleasure from what should have been the happiest day of my life.

At first all was great. Our son was born during my junior year. About the time I graduated Paul struck out of his own and did extremely well. I stayed in school and received my Ph.D. Then the oil market collapsed. Paul's investments failed and the bank repossessed much of the company's assets. Paul had personally guaranteed the business loans, leaving us deeply in debt. When his parents offered to bail him out if he came to work for them, I begged him not to. My own practice was growing and I knew if Paul persevered things would turn around. But his financial failure had sapped much of his confidence. He agreed to return to the family business.

Our marriage came apart over the next few years. His parents' endless belittling of him destroyed what confidence he had left. We spent more and more time at family functions where his parents treated me like an outsider while Paul sat there ineffectually. Soon, my respect for him evaporated. I had a bad feeling when his parents hired Ashley as his assistant. Ashley looked a lot like me. She was of Cajun descent and we shared a dark complexion. Like me she had close to jet black hair. Her's hung in long curls to her shoulders. She also had a killer body. She was sweet, eighteen years old, and worshiped Paul and his family. I can't say I was shocked when she turned up pregnant five months later.

Paul gave me little trouble in the divorce. At heart he was a decent man and he made no attempt to hide his guilt over his indiscretion. His parents were happy to throw money at me to get me out of their lives. I met Robert about a year later. We have been together ever since.

I was brought back to reality by the whoop of three sweaty boys rushing through the back gate to the pool. They poured onto the deck and stopped. At first I think that they were startled just to see an adult in an unexpected place; then they started to stare. I looked down, following their gazes to my body and my bikini. 

Then I heard my son's voice. He was closing the gate behind the others. "C'mon guys, you are supposed to at least pretend you've seen a pretty lady before."

He walked over and extended his hand. I took it and stood up. He leaned towards me to whisper in my ear. His manner was designed to make it clear to his friends that his comments were for me only. As his bent towards me his chest slightly flattened my left breast. At the same time his right arm curled around me and he placed his hand on my shoulder blade, moving my head in position for his sotto voce performance. This increased the pressure on my breast. I looked over his shoulder to determine if any of the boys could see this contact. While all three were looking at us, my son's body blocked any view of it.

He said so only I could hear, "Forgive them, their homes lack such eye candy." Then, stepping back and bowing, he proclaimed in a mocking tone loud enough for everyone to hear, "Fair lady, please forgive me and my band of lunkheads for disturbing thy rest."

I curtsied and forgave my knight and his band.

"Thanks Mom. On more routine matters, we've been shooting hoops for the last three hours. Is there enough stuff to feed the herd?"

"Sure is. Don't worry, I'll get the food ready."

"Thanks Mom." He looked down at the materials I have been reviewing for my session with Theresa. "Let me bring this inside for you."

We entered the house through the sliding glass door overlooking the pool. 

"Do you want me to put these papers in your office?'

"Sure honey." I replied. Then, since my office adjoined the bedroom and aware of my scarcely dressed condition, I asked him to bring me some clothes.

It took him a few minutes to return. He was carrying some white shorts.

I looked at them. "I was thinking of a robe."

"Are you sure? You would look great in these."

He smiled; my resistance melted. As I pulled them on over my bikini bottoms, I wondered why he had taken so long in my bedroom.

"Honey, did you have trouble finding the shorts?"

"A little, Mom."

"You know those papers are confidential."

"Yes, Mom. And don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."

He left the kitchen to rejoin his friends. I made sandwiches, stacked them and fruit juice on a tray, and headed for the backyard. The boys were gathered around the patio table; my son sitting in the largest and most comfortable chair.

I placed the pile of food on the table and turned to go. My son asked me to sit down and join them, pulling one of the smaller chairs next to his. At first I declined, but at the urging of my son and the other boys I, somewhat reluctantly, sat down. I ate a sandwich, enjoyed a drink, and paid half-attention to the boy's chatter. I pulled a stool over and put my left foot on it, raising my knee so I could rest my head on it. My son put his hand on my right knee. I leaned over, occasionally, to pick the crumbs of his sandwiches off his chest. But mostly, head on knee, I gazed up at him, enjoying the sun and daydreaming.

Then my professional side kicked in. I had adopted the classic posture of a female primate, sitting in my male's personal space, his hand on me, my head down, eyes up, and grooming him as needed. What was worse was my reaction to my observation, I felt blood pour into my breasts and my nipples harden. These boys were already taking far too many covert glances at me. I did not need the neighborhood boys gabbing about the time they saw Doctor Barry's nipples outlined in her bikini.

I turned towards my son and away from his friends as I placed my arm across my chest to obscure any view. The motion of my arm directed his gaze to my breasts and the stiff nipples.

"Mom, I know you had a lot of work to do today. I'm sure we've kept you from it long enough. I'll give you a hand with the tray."

He picked up the tray, shielding the boy's eyes from my engorged nipples, which allowed me to turn around and head for the house. In the process I could feel my breasts continue to swell and my nipples swell. I imagined their eyes on my butt, which further racheted up my arousal. Was I putting an extra wiggle in my walk? 

When we got to the kitchen my son was rewarded with a big hug and a kiss. He kissed my forehead and headed back outside, turning to tell me as he left, "I'm sure they will want to thank you before they leave. You may want to put on a tee shirt."

I took his advice. I returned to my bedroom and took off the bikini top. I started rubbing my breasts, feeling my nipples once again becoming pert. My bikini bottoms came next, sticky with the juice flowing from inside me. I could hear the boys outside. My left index finger was running up the length of my labia, stopping at the top to tease my clitoris. I imagined myself on myself by the pool, surrounded by four naked boys. I would have a cock in each hand, one in my mouth, and one up my pussy. The one up my pussy would be the biggest one of all, my son's. I headed for the shower and there finished my fantasy, bringing myself the relief of a series of mind-blowing orgasms. I was wearing loose fitting jeans and a red tee shirt, with bra, when the boys came inside later to say thanks. 

After they left I returned to my study to continue my research and prepare for my session with Theresa. My son went to his room to do some homework. He knocked on my door about 8:00 P.M., holding two bowls of leftover vegetable soup. We ate the soup sitting together on my bed, exchanging small talk. 

"Sorry about the guys staring today. If I had known you were by the pool I wouldn't have brought them over."

"Apology accepted and its your house too. In any case, I should thank you. If it hadn't been for your quick thinking, I not sure if they would have ever stopped gossiping about my tits." I felt my now-always damp groin get damper. 

I waited for a reaction to my choice of words. He pondered my remark for a second, as if he was trying to gleam my intent, and then replied in kind. "Well they are great tits and you've got a great bod. All your work at the gym pays off. However, while I agree you are worth staring at, that doesn't mean they should."

After we chatted about our plans for the following day he left with the now empty bowls, closing the door behind him. I completed my work and was picking out a nightie when I caught my image in my full length mirror. I turned, looking at myself. What was happening to me? What would my society friends say if they could see inside my head? What would my society friends say if they could see me do this. I slipped the first digit of my index finger into my sex. I was already wet, there was no friction. I moved it slowly at first, dipping in slightly, then pulling out, then stroking up my vertical slash. I didn't realize that watching yourself masturbate could be so sexy. But why shouldn't it be, I was a beautiful woman. I watched two more fingers, those also up only to the first digit, slip into the cunt. I saw how much the cunt liked the fingers, how it was getting wetter; I could see the light glistening off the cunt's juice. I could hear the breathing of the woman who owned the cunt becoming deeper and slower. She seemed to be shaking slightly.

I gasped as all three fingers probed the cunt. I could feel them explore inside me, wanting to touch everywhere, wanting to find each new sensation. It was all good, but occasionally they would find an electric spot and I would shudder and stagger. I took my hand from my cunt, spreading the juice across my tits. I looked at my tits in the mirror. I could see how the light reflected off the liquid. Robert rarely sucked my tits. Why would anyone not want to suck such lovely tits, still big and firm? When he was a baby my boy loved to suck my tits. I remembered how good it felt. How I would get turned on. How sometimes I would finger myself while my baby boy's mouth was on my tits. But mostly I would search out my husband. If he wasn't in the mood I would suck his dick till he got in the mood. Then I would mount him and fuck him hard. I would lean forward, dropping my tits in his mouth, where he would suck and lick them. Sometimes I would beg him to bite my titties hard. Even after life and his parents had turned him into a wimp, I would fuck him hard and push my tits into his face, imagining he was the man he used to be.

My cunt was dripping. Each hand reached down and took its share of juice and spread it across a breast. My tits needed to be sucked. I thought of my son. If I went and asked would he suck them? Would I need to beg him to suck his Mommy's fat wet tits? I bet he would. I bet if I begged him he would suck my tits. I could tell, he thought I was a hot number. I bet he would suck my tits; I bet he was a great tit sucker. 

I was not that kind of girl. I was a good girl. I was just having bad thoughts. But I still needed my tits sucked. I looked at the woman in the mirror. God she was hot. I knew that slut would suck my tits. I saw her pull my left tit to her mouth. She started licking at the top, her tongue moving slowly toward the nipple. Then she stopped. How could she stop? My nipple was so beautiful. It was almost black against the creamy brownness of my tit. She did it again and she stopped again. I asked the slut to please suck my tits. 

"You must be a bad girl who wants her titties sucked," she mocked.

"I am a good girl, but please suck my tits," I begged her. 

She didn't look convinced but blew me a kiss. "Okay, I will suck your slutty tits."

I wanted to tell her that they were not slutty tits, that they were good girl tits. However, I was afraid if I made her angry, she might not suck my tits. So I didn't argue. I looked back at her, pleading with my eyes.

She pulled one of my tits closer to her mouth and licked it in a hard swift motion. My cunt exploded and I staggered half a set back. She did it again and then again. I felt the pleasure from her tongue reverberate throughout my body and then center on my pussy. She opened her mouth and took my entire nipple and areola inside. My areolas are small, not like the wide ones Theresa described. I looked into the mirror and saw that my nipple had disappeared into my mouth. I could feel my tongue lashing it. I sucked the entire nipple deeper into my mouth. I could feel my tongue stroking and exploring it, teasing it, loving it. I loved the taste of my tits. I buried my other hand in my cunt, my thumb stroking my clitoris. 

My eyes turned to the safe in my bedroom. I had promised myself I would not surrender to this temptation. I was a respected therapist; I obeyed the rules. I did not act unprofessionally. I did not act unethically. But I would now; I would turn my client's most intimate moments into the most personal entertainment. I removed the recording of my session with Theresa from the safe, donned headphones, and listended, fingering myself the entire time. When her son proclaimed that he owned her cunt, I exploded. Soon I was asleep.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 03



Sally's Second Session with Theresa 


Before turning on the recording of my session with Theresa, I had set my alarm for 5:00 A.M. Monday morning. I was joining Robert at his favorite restaurant at 6:00 P.M. and my son had a swim meet after; the only time I would have for the gym was the crack of dawn. While on the treadmill I intended to select some counselors to recommend to Theresa. I had lost any sense of therapeutic objectivity with her, it was my ethical and professional responsibility to withdraw. I was also worried about myself. I attributed much of my success to self-discipline, my thoughts and desires were now ricocheting around beyond any power I had to control them. I was scared; part of me liked those thoughts. Unchecked, they could endanger my career, my place in society, my sense of self, and my accomplishments.

I arrived at the office a few minutes early wearing a conservative blue business suit. The day proceeded well, but as 4:00 P.M. approached my uneasiness grew. I liked Theresa and we had established an instant rapport. I did not look forward to disappointing her.

At 4:00 P.M. my staff buzzed me to let me know Theresa had arrived. I opened the door to see the two women who work for me happily holding up potted plants decorated with large red bows.

Theresa explained. "As late as we ran on Friday, I figured these ladies probably stayed a little bit late trying to figure out what to do. These," pointing to the plants, "are my apology and thank you." 

Theresa seemed a different woman than she had on Friday. She was wearing make-up and her hair, which was pulled behind her head during our last visit, now fell freely to her shoulders, framing her lovely face. She was wearing mid-calf level boots with two-inch heels, a skirt that reached her knees, and a loose fitting pressed man's shirt whose top two buttons were open, revealing a gleaming white tee shirt underneath. She was probably not wearing a bra, I thought.

The biggest difference from our last visit, however, was the smile on her face. Whatever had happened since Friday's session, Theresa had liked it.

I invited her into my office. As soon as the door shut Theresa hugged and kissed me on the cheek. Her breasts pressed against me, confirming my thoughts about her bra. She stepped back slightly, taking my hands in hers, and the words spilled out of her.

"I had the most amazing weekend. There were a dozen roses waiting for me when I got home with a note from Miles to meet him in the bedroom. I guess it's our bedroom now. The sex was tremendous. He promised to celebrate our time alone my cumming inside me in each room of the house. We didn't quite make it – it's a big house – but it wasn't for lack of trying. During our breaks I told him about our session. He said he will support whatever I decide. Sally, I know we didn't conclude anything during our last visit, but you treated me with respect. I came in feeling like a pervert and left feeling like a woman. A woman with an issue, but not a crazy deviant. I understand I may need to stop it with my son, but for the first time in months my sense of nagging self-loathing is gone."

This was not the time to tell her she needed a new therapist. I put down the list of other mental health professionals I was going to ask her to consider. I would call on my training and experience and get through this session.

"Miles asked whether you wanted to see him."

I had thought about that. In order to properly evaluate her and her relationship, protocol required that I talk to her son. To do that both of them to would need to waive confidentiality so I could freely discuss with each what I learned from the other. In normal couples therapy a waiver of confidentiality was assumed and could be verbal. Theresa and Miles were not a normal couple. A formal written waiver of confidentiality was required. However, I expected this to be my last session with her. I knew I needed to refer her to someone else. I decided to postpone discussing an appointment with her son until the end of the session.

"That was actually one of the matters I intended to discuss with you. We'll get to that later."

Letting go of my right hand, she still held my left while we walked to the couch. Her body language and tug on my hand indicated she expected me to sit next to her as I had at the end of our last session. I had intended to sit in my chair, but realized my rule about physical boundaries was already hopelessly compromised. Any effort to re-establish it now would be artificial. It would also signal disapproval to Theresa, which would impede our progress. I sat down next to her.

We discussed the first two issues I had addressed in my research. She was aware of the increased risk of birth defects and assured me she was on birth control. I also reviewed my research about incest as a universal taboo; its prohibition was not just an artifact of Western culture. As I suspected, her concern was not incest's rejection as a universal norm, but the harm it might be doing to two very specific people: her and her son.

I turned to this concern. I could see she was nervous. I took her hand in mine.

"Theresa, there is no reason to believe that incest is inherently harmful. It can be, but there is no research to conclude it must be. While I can understand why it is against the law, there is no evidence that incest is always damaging."

Her relief was palatable. For the second time that session she threw her arms around me and hugged me. This time I found myself looking forward to the crush of her breasts against my body.

"Let's not celebrate too quickly. There are still serious issues here. I would like to discuss the first two together. Your son is a teen-age boy. He should be developing conventional social ties and growth. He is not going to take advantage of the full opportunities of life if his primary focus is finding ways to get his father out of the house so he can make love to his mother. Concomitantly, your marriage is not in good shape. Sex with your son is going to distract you from any effort to address it. 

"On the other hand, let's say he ends his relationship with you to lead what society would call a normal life, how would that affect you? You're his mother. He would not be like a high school boyfriend who left you for a girl he met in college. You wouldn't need to interact with that guy ever again. You will need to do so with your son. How are you going to react when you can no longer be his lover?"

Theresa took her time. When she replied her tone of voice was contemplative. 

"I hadn't thought about it in exactly those terms, but you're right. My son was awarded a full scholarship to Stanford. When our affair first began he talked about going to a local school and not a college two time zones away. The first few weeks I agreed, but then the mother in me stepped forward. I knew, we both knew, that Stanford was the right place for him. It's going to be terrible not being with him full time. We even discussed my moving to California, but we both realized that would just delay the problem. At some point he needs to move on.

"As to my marriage, you're right again. But, the point is, I don't really want to fix it. My husband has his job, it's his one great love. I am quite happy letting my husband be absorbed in his work while I am absorbed in his son."

She was clearly upset. She looked down, then back at me, all the time rubbing her hands together or fumbling with the buttons of her shirt. I put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

The contact helped. She continued. "It's funny you brought this up. My son mentioned over the weekend that he might have an answer to at least some of these problems."

"Did he explain what it was?"

"No, I asked. He said it was one of those ideas that if you looked at it too hard, it would never thrive."

"Did you think he had a real idea or was he just comforting you?"

"Something real was in his head. This is not something he would kid about."  

I decided to pass over his comment. We would get back to it later.

"Theresa, I raise these issues because they should be considered. By themselves they are not reasons to end the relationship. In fact, while they may be good grounds not to start an incestual relationship, once you're in it they simply become things that need to be worked out. The fact that you and your son are talking about them are good. You should continue to do so. Which brings me to my last concern, consent." 

I explained the general concerns about consent in incest before arriving at her particular case.

"When you told me about the night you became lovers, I was struck by the number of times your son asserted control over you. He made you promise to obey him before you went shopping, talked about taking you from his father as if you were property, and spoke about owning your cunt." 

Theresa took a few seconds to answer. 

"He is an aggressive lover. I love the power I feel in him when we are in bed. Of course, I not exactly sure how he would have gotten me into his bed without his being aggressive. I wasn't about to volunteer."

That drew a smile from me. 

"An aggressive powerful lover is fine. I am not saying there is anything wrong here, but I do want to explore it further. Have you two ever had sex to which you initially objected?"

"Yes, is there anything wrong with that?" She seemed confused.

"No, every couple but the dullest has. When I asked you the question did one particular event come to your mind."

"Yes, how did you know?" 

"I did go to school for this stuff. You were thinking about consent in your relationship. When I asked you about agreeing to do something to which you had initially objected the strongest example would be the first one in your thoughts. Now I want you to tell me about it."

She hesitated for a second, decided to go ahead, and scooted closer to me on the couch, placing her left hand on my right knee. The physical contact made her feel more comfortable and I, to be honest, enjoyed it. I decided to let it slide.

"Since we became lovers my son had asked me about anal sex. I have a few girlfriends who have tried it and none of them endorsed it. My husband tried it once, but he hadn't even penetrated me when I panicked and told him to stop and he is not nearly as big as my boy. So I told Miles no.

"He never insisted, but he was clearly still interested. He never missed an opportunity to complement my butt. He found my backside especially fascinating when his father was around. I had given up trying to stop him from putting his hand on my fanny or pressing his erection against it, when his father was in the next, or sometimes the same, room.

"He also included it in our lovemaking. He loved to give me a back rub, ending up gently biting me at the base of the coccyx, nibbling along the length of the edges of the crevice in my butt...."

Here she turned to me. "Is there a word for that?"

"Several," I answered, "intergluteal cleft, vertical gluteal crease, and gluteal cleft are some."

The absurdity of these terms in the present context brought a soft laugh from both of us. She continued.

"You do know some stuff. Well, he would nibble along the edges of that thing you said, then kiss it, then run his tongue along it, then do it all again. He would separate the cheeks of my ass and run his tongue along the bottom of the cleft. He would then pay special attention to my anus. He would gently blow air onto it, which would make it quiver. He would lick it and force his tongue inside my sphincter. He often brought me to orgasm by reaching under me with his hand and masturbating me while his mouth paid attention to my ass. When we first started out there would be some tension back there, but after awhile I started to relax. He noticed it also and commented on how mush easier it was to push his tongue inside me. I was sure happy for that, because I was learning to love what he did back there. I never knew my butt was such a sensitive area and could bring me such pleasure. When he tongue-fucked my sphincter while stroking my clitoris with his fingers, it seemed that the same fire that burned in my cunt was burning in my backside.

"It worked the other way. When his mouth was on my pussy he would use his fingers to stimulate by fanny. He would stroke my anus and then slip a finger inside me. He was always careful to use a lubricant. He started out with his pinkie, but over time he worked up to his middle finger. Often he would slip his thumb into my vagina and his middle finger into my butt while sucking on my clitoris. He developed a rhythm so everything down there seemed to be moving together. I had not imagined that my butthole could be a source of such pleasure. I went from anxiety when he approached my butt to yearning for it, but still there was a big difference between his fingers and that fat cock of his.

"The big moment came during Family Day at Coliseum, my husband's company. The company throws an annual picnic for its employees' families. It starts with a high-tech presentation about the company followed by the usual trappings. The company hires a local band, there are softball and volleyball games, and the food and beer flow freely. As the wife of an executive my attendance is essentially mandatory, but Miles hadn't gone in years. Thus, I was surprised when he said he would love to go when my husband asked him That night, after my husband had fallen asleep and Miles and I had finished making love on the couch downstairs, I asked him if he was up to something. He said he certainly was, but I would have to wait to find out what.

"It was bright and sunny the day of the picnic. As a result even more people attended than usual. When the presentation in the auditorium was announced my son held me back for a second so that we were among the last to enter. All of the seats had been taken, so my son directed me to the half-wall and railing that ran along the back of the auditorium. I leaned against the wall; my son stood behind me. Then he leaned forward slightly, and I felt his hard cock touching my butt. 

"As I instinctively pulled forward, he whispered, 'Look around, it's safe.' I did; he was right. The half wall was interspersed with thick square floor to ceiling columns. We were standing between the final column and the wall of the auditorium. The column blocked any view of us from the side. The lights had been turned off and the light from the stage was blocked by the half wall. The area behind it was near pitch black. The only possible way you could see what was going on would be if you were standing right on top of us, and there was nobody within twenty feet.

"'You're still being bad,' I told him.

"'I can be worse, you know,' and with that he slipped his fingers into the belt loops of my shorts and pulled me back until my rump was planted on his erection. He didn't rub it against me, but he definitely let me know it was there."

"Did he stop?"

"No, and I didn't ask him to. It was turning me on but I figured nothing could come of it. We were surrounded by hundreds of people, but all I realy cared about was his presence. I loved the way his strong body felt against me and, oddly considering the packed room, I remembered how good he smelled: he was wearing an aftershave and cologne we had picked out together. 

"After the presentation my husband went outside to drink beer and share war stories with his buddies. My son and I wandered throughout the facility. He was still bad, whenever we were alone he would stroke my butt and kiss me. When we had the chance we held hands like teen-agers. I was still pretty aroused and enjoyed his tongue in my mouth even with my eyes open to make sure no one saw us. Then we went outside and separated for awhile. He played volley ball while I chatted with some people I knew. The next time I was aware of him was when I heard his voice behind me. He had two plates full of food and two soft drinks. 'Hungry? Thirsty?,' he asked.

"We sat and ate. As we did so he pointed to his father's office on the second floor of the building. He observed that the combination of the darkened environmental-friendly windows, the brightness of the sun, and the lack of any lights inside the offices meant you couldn't see in the offices from the outside. I looked up and, wondering what he was up to, agreed.

"'For example,' he went on, 'I can't see the three foot tall model of Dad's latest project that sits on the conference table under that window.' He pointed. I looked up again. He was right. I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"'Maybe someone stole the model. You and I need to investigate.'

"He stood up and offered his hand to help me up. I grabbed it and stood next to him.

"We started walking towards the building, which made no sense. While guests had been provided with a temporary key cards to get into the main building, for security purposes the individual offices had been locked and screens covered the windows in the doors. "You know we can't get inside his office,' I told him.

"As we reached the building my son, looking like the cat who caught the canary, reached into his pocket and fished out a small key, 'Well there is that spare key he keeps at the house.'

"We used the key card to enter. I started up the stairs, my son behind me. I was about to object to his entire plan when he said, 'Those shorts sure do show off that fine butt of yours. I have been able to think of very little but your rump since we got here. I've been thinking about shoving my tongue inside, I've been thinking of tickling it with my pinkie, I've been thinking about ...' He continued in this vein, describing in detail all the things he wanted to do to my backside. I couldn't believe the conversation, walking through my husband's office building while my son described in minute detail how he was going to make love to my ass. He stopped for a moment when another couple entered the stairwell, heading downstairs. It was the company's senior vice-president and his attractive young secretary. I had seen his wife outside. Hanky panky in the building was apparently company policy.

"The second floor hallway was empty and my son resumed his inventory of the ways he lusted for my ass. I was getting extremely turned on. He opened the door to my husband's office and holding my hand walked over to the table: the model was still there. Standing behind me, he reached his arms around to cup my breasts, which he gently kneaded. 'We now know two things,' he announced, 'the model is still here and no one can see inside this room.' He was kissing me on the neck and nibbling on my ears. He was gently rocking his erection against my behind. His left hand left my breast and slid down my body, where he placed it on my belt buckle and started moving by body in the same rhythm as his, making sure I could feel his hard cock as he our bodies swayed in rhythm. 

"I was still worried. I asked him what we would do if his father came through the door. Miles told me what I wanted to here. 'It can't happen. First, he is already three sheets to the wind. He couldn't make it up the steps or fit a key in the door. Even if he did, he wouldn't recognize or remember what he saw. But we don't need to worry about even that. He asked me to bring him his keys when we left the house. I gave him the set without the office key.'

"The hand which was rocking my hips unbuckled and unzipped my shorts. He dipped his hand inside and started playing with the entrance of my vagina. He could feel how wet I was. He was not going to believe any protest I made about making love in his father's office, but it really didn't matter any more. Any desire I had to say no was a fleeting velleity.

"His middle finger slipped inside my vagina. His thumb rested just above my clitoris. He started to move his thumb in slow gentle circles. My clit was throbbing under this indirect stimulation. With his other hand he continued to caress my breasts through my bra, which made the fire between my legs burn even brighter. I matched his movements, keeping his monstrous erection pressed against my butt. He unhooked my bra and his left hand moved around to my left breast. Mostly he just held and gently squeezed it. Occasionally he would tease my nipple with one of his fingers, which further heated up an already over-heated pussy. It was a position meant to arouse me, but not to push me over the edge. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 03



"I turned my head to his and we started kissing, our mouths and tongues locked together. Soon our kisses bordered on the desperate. I sensed his need for me as he pushed his mouth hard against mine. However, the power which our bodies were now grinding against each other forced me forward, making it impossible for us to keep kissing. I leaned forward, my hands on my husband's table, my hips rocking between my son's hand, which was feasting on my sopping wet cunt, and his cock, which was pushing against the crease of my asshole. I could hear myself groaning in pleasure. It seemed like he would keep me at this plateau forever, denying me my yearning for a climax."

Theresa's hand, which had started on my knee, was now moving along the inside of my thigh. I had allowed my dress to be pushed up over my knees and had spread my legs, giving her unimpeded access. My mind was a swamp of lust and the air was scented with the smell of two pussies flowing with need.

Theresa continued. "I heard his voice. 'Open your eyes.' I did and saw the people gathered outside for the picnic. I started scanning for my husband when I heard my son's voice again. 'He is with the group immediately to the left of the keg tent.' My eyes picked him out of the crowd.

"Sally, I felt sorry for all those people. None of them had a lover as sweet as my son. Pulling away from him, I knelt on the table and pulled my shirt over my head. I displayed by nakedness before the window."

With those words I looked down to her breasts. As a result of her fumbling with the buttons of her shirt earlier, only the bottom two were still in place. I could see her dark erect nipples pressed against the fabric of her tee shirt. I could also see the wonderful round heaviness of her breasts. I heard her continue to talk and knew she was saying something important, although the itch between my legs was making deep analysis impossible.

"Maybe knowing no one could see us meant it was all false courage, but in the presence of my husband and all that he held most important I was ready to let the world know to whom I belonged. A way to send that message to my son also came to me. I told him if there was ever going to be a time to take my asshole, it was now."

I knew we were on to something important, but the question that came out my mouth may be the least-artful inquiry ever by a psychologist. It was the best my lust-befuddled brain could do. 

With my eyes still on her breasts, I asked, "Your decision to let him into your rectum, what portion of that was due to your arousal and the way your son had been making love to you and what portion due to your desire to demonstrate your commitment to him?"

Theresa looked at me looking at her breasts. "Sally, I don't know. She touched her breasts through her tee shirt. "I can't tell whether this nipple is stiff due to my memory of his hand in my cunt or my memory of stripping before the window. Can you?" She took my right hand in hers and placed it on her breast. 

It may have been a joke, but we both jumped. I felt the warmth of her exquisite breast through the tee shirt. I could also feel her erect nipple, which had intrigued me since she described it in our first session. I stroked it.

"Oooh, that felt good. Slide to the end of the couch."

I did until my back was against the end and both legs on the couch. Theresa settled between my leg, which ran along side hers. Her back rested on my chest. She was a slender woman and I enjoyed the pressure of her body. She placed my hands on her breasts. "If you don't mind. It feels nice and comforting." I raised no objection. I traced the outline of her areolas and nipples with a finger and then, spreading my thumb and index finger I fitted them to the areolas of her breasts. That had the circumference about right. They were as wide as she had described. With both hands I then gently squeezed, bringing a low moan from her. Her tee shirt was not so tight that I couldn't slip my hands under her breasts. They were good-sized, my hands did not completely cover their undersides. I also felt their weight and firmness. For the first time I understood why guys so liked these things.

She had noticeably relaxed in the short time I had been enjoying her breasts. Nonetheless, it seemed a therapeutic technique I should not generally introduce to my clients. 

"Where were we?"

"You had just told your son to sodomize you," I replied.

"Oh yeah, that," she giggled. 

She continued "I laid across my husband's table, my ass sticking over the edge and my legs dangling to the floor, luxuriating in the fine soft leather table top. Taking the part of the eager partner, I pulled my ass cheeks apart, offering my backside to my son. My son's hands quickly replaced my own. He pulled my rump farther apart and licked my butthole. I felt a pleasant tingle, a sensation that continued when he blew a steady stream of air onto my now moist anus. He followed this my forcing his tongue inside. He spent the next few minutes alternating between licking and tongue-fucking my asshole. I was rubbing by clitoris against the leather table top in time with his tongue. I could feel the heat building up inside me and the juice flowing from my vagina onto my husband's table. If his goal was to stimulate me until I was ready to affirm my desire to let him enter me anally, he had succeeded. I told him to stop teasing me and put something inside.

"'C'mon baby, its time to fuck Mommy's asshole. Mommy's a virgin back there. Please baby, take my cherry. Take my cherry baby.' I found myself enjoying playing the naughty girl.

"His mouth left my butt. I felt a lubricated finger enter me from behind. He moved it slowly in, then out, then repeated. As he did he twisted and rotated the finger, increasing the sensations inside me. That finger was then joined by a second, and a third. I had never had anything bigger than one of his thumb's back there. I felt stretched and while the stimulation aroused me, it was joined by discomfort. I tried to compensate by rubbing my pussy even harder against the desk top. Before I chickened out, I turned my head to my son and let him know, 'It's time, time to put it inside me.'

"I watched as he coated his tool with lubricant and stepped between my legs. Even in the dim light of the office it glistened."

She paused. "He later told me that he had been carrying the lubricant with him for weeks hoping for this moment."

Theresa took a second, leaning against my body, and continued. "He patiently increased the pressure pushing the head of his thing into me. When the ring finally popped open, I felt a sharp pain. After he gave me a few seconds to adjust, he entered me slowly and steadily, an inch or two at a time, but even with the lubricant it hurt. When he fucked me the old-fashioned way I always thought his cock a tree trunk. When he entered my butt it was definitely a redwood. My breathing became rapid and deep to deal with the pain. He could tell I was uncomfortable and asked me if I wanted to continue. I told him yes, but that he needed to give Mommy a chance to adjust.

"He did just that. While we both were still he told me how long he had waited for this, how my butt was even tighter and hotter than he imagined, and how amazing it was to look down and see his thing buried inside me. Then he gestured to the window and announced that every man out there, no matter how successful, would beg to trade places with him. 

"Of course, I had to tell him later that the idea of every guy at the party butt fucking me was not exactly a turn-on.

"Instead, I looked back at him. 'Son, that's not really the point. The point is that only you get to do it. No one else ever has, no one else ever will.' Sally, he seemed reassured. I am not sure he understood until that moment how committed I was to our affair.

"Over the next few minutes I started to accommodate to the monster inside me. I still felt stuffed, but it had shifted from the painful to the uncomfortable. He started to use the muscles in his groin to make his cock jump inside me. The movement was slight, but it was finding the sensitive places inside me that my son and I had spent the last few months exploring. It started to tingle back there. I lay still on the table, letting my mind focus on the burgeoning stimuli. I was starting to enjoy it. I told him to continue.

"Gently and carefully he started to fuck my ass. I don't think he fully understood the effect he was having on me until I let out a long slow moan. I took advantage of the moisture once again seeping from me to start rocking my hips, sliding my clit across the table top. My boy started matching my movement, his thrusts inside me limited to the two or three inches. It was really starting to get to me. The two of us had spent enough time in bed that he could easily discern the level of my arousal from the sounds I was making and the thin sheen of sweat covering my body. At the exact moment I was ready for it I felt his hands on my hips. He used them to control my movements, as he steadily increased the length of his thrusts. Soon he was fucking the full length of his cock into my butt. The head of his cock was sliding from my anus to deep within my bowels, but he was always smooth and slow. He continued his deliberate movement. I continued to slide my cunt across the table, soon finding myself lost in the sensations. 

"Sally, I had not thought it could happen when we started, but it dawned on me that I was on the way to an orgasm. I had not thought anal intercourse could bring me to an orgasm, but I suddenly found one growing inside me. I let the excitement wash over me. I heard my son's breathing deepen. I looked back and could see he was completely lost in the sex; there was nothing in the world for him but what my rectum was doing to his penis. He was close to exploding. I needed more time. 

"I cautioned him. 'Mommy loves being ass fucked, baby. Mommy's gonna cum baby, but she needs more time. You don't mind slowing down so Mommy can come? Do you baby? Mommy wants to cum on your magnificent cock.'"

"Boys do like to be praised, don't they," I observed.

Theresa laid her head back on my shoulder and kissed my cheek. "That they do."

"With that he pushed all the way into me, and started a rolling motion, mashing my clitoris into the table and increasing the stimulation. The intensity of what I was feeling had me on the edge. Then I heard some voices in the hall. The perfection of the circumstance struck me: my rump was being penetrated for the first time, it was happening on my husband's desk in my husband's office, we were surrounded by hundreds of his friends and colleagues, two of whom were less then thirty feet away separated from us by only a wall, and it was my son's cock inside me. I came. It felt like a coiled spring, compressed to its tightest point, and then pressed down a little farther. Then, bam, all that tension released and I was flying and at the apex of my arc, hovering for an impossibly long moment. 

"Sally, I am usually not a screamer, but I was about to roar. Afraid that the people in the hallway would hear me, with whatever rationality I could muster I buried my mouth in my forearm to stifle my scream. Waves of bliss radiated out from where my son had entered me. As my body jerked and spasmed, I heard my son's low guttural grunt as he filled me with his cum. I slumped forward, he pulled out and staggered backwards.

Theresa placed his hands over mine, holding them still against her breasts.

"If you don't stop, I just might attack you." 

I had, almost without thought, become increasingly aggressive with her breasts during the course of her story. A picture of me with her nipples in my mouth flashed through my mind.

She sat up, moving away from me, her back now against the couch. "Should I finish?"

I nodded yes.

"My son slumped back into one of the office chairs. I crawled onto the desk. After taking a few minutes to recover I rolled onto my side, propping my head on my hand, elbow on the table. We chatted for a few minutes, mostly about the rest of the day. Then I noted the time and told my son we needed to pack up. The table was stained in several places with what had flowed from my vagina and drops of his cum dripping from my backside. My son wanted to leave them as a souvenir. I insisted we clean it up. His half-hearted protest fell when I pointed out that any investigation into the source of the stains would show we had used our security card to enter the building and that we were the only ones likely to have a key to my husband's office. Did he really want us to be suspects?

"We left the building, found my drunk husband, and drove home. My husband was ready to crawl into bed, but we kept him up til his normal bed-time and fed him a few more whiskeys. By the time his head hit the pillow he was out cold. For the first time while my husband was in the house I crawled into my son's bed. We made sweet love and fell asleep. I had set the alarm for 3:00 A.M., when I woke up and returned to my husband's side."

She seemed finished. I was far too aroused to do any analysis, but I knew there was important information in this account. I would have to listen to the recording carefully. I did have a few questions.

"Theresa, has he been different since that day?"

"Actually, yes. Up until that time he had displayed a lot of the bravado you talked about, claiming he owned me, wanting me to tell him that I belonged to him, things like that. He doesn't do that anymore. He seems much more comfortable."

"Is anal intercourse still part of your sexual activity?" She nodded yes. 

"Excuse me if this sounds a bit silly, but do you enjoy it more, less, or the same as the first time."

She thought for a moment. "The first time was very special, but if you are talking about pure physical pleasure, its better now. I'm less apprehensive and I have been stretched a little back there." She gestured to her backside. "Although I still need several days to recover." She paused and then asked, "So, what do you think?"

"There is a lot here, but I need to take some time to let it coalesce."

Should I continue to treat her and her son? My objectivity was hopelessly compromised. However, while I was presently far too addled to put it all together, the nagging feeling that what I had heard today was important wouldn't leave me. I thought I could help. 

"I would like to see your son," I told Theresa. I went to buzz the staff, but no one responded. The appointment had rolled past 5:00 P.M. It was 5:30. "Let's go look at the appointment book."

We entered the outer office. I found a note affixed to the book showing my 4:00 P.M. for Wednesday had cancelled and asking whether I wanted to charge her. I have a 72 hour cancellation rule. If you do not cancel 72 hours in advance, you are charged for the session. Since this was her third cancellation, I checked the box instructing my staff to send her a bill. I opened the book and surveyed the available times. I told Theresa that Miles could have the Wednesday time slot. She said she would check with her son to see if he was available.

I reached into a draw at the desk in the front and retrieved the form all new patients are required to sign and two waivers of client confidentiality.

"What are those?" she asked.

"One is the same agreement you signed before your first appointment. The other two are waivers of confidentiality. All communications between you and I have been private. I am not allowed to discuss them with anyone. If I am going to see you and your son I will need to disclose to each of you information provided by the other. These forms give me permission to do so. In regular couples counseling permission to do so is presumed and can be provided verbally, but I don't think you two are a traditional couple; you two are pretty much your own category."

"Can I call tonight after I check his schedule?" she asked. 

"There will no one here to talk to." I never provide my clients with my cell phone number. I want to maintain proper boundaries with my clients and do not want them calling me at 3:00 A.M. to discuss the import of a dream in which their mother was riding a unicorn. However, my boundaries with Theresa were already hopelessly compromised and I didn't see her as a threat for a middle of the night call. "I will give you my cell phone number, but please treat it confidentially." She thanked me. We walked to the door, holding hands. She turned to face me, slipping two fingers inside my belt. 

"I can't thank you enough for what you are doing." Then she leaned forward and kissed me. Our lips played against each other for a few seconds. "My husband is out playing poker with his buddies tonight. I promised Miles he would have the winning hand. And again, thank you so much. You're the best." I told her I was happy I could help. She turned and headed for the elevators.

After she got on I looked at the clock. It was 5:40. I would need only five, maybe ten, minutes to close-up and get to the restaurant, another five to touch-up my make up, which should leave me enough time for this. I used my fingers to bring myself off and at least temporarily quiet the burning between my legs.

*  *  *  *

I was ten minutes late meeting Robert. As I entered the restaurant he stood up and walked over to me, taking my hand and kissing me on the cheek. He pulled out my chair and returned to his seat. A bottle of my favorite wine was ready. As he filled my wine glass I apologized for running late.

"I had assumed you were working late with one of your clients."

"I was. She is new and presents issues I have never dealt with before. She gave me a lot of information today. I have this nagging feeling that once I let it settle my brain, we will be on the road to a resolution."

For the next hour I relaxed and enjoyed the pleasure of Robert's company. After briefly discussing the dinner party we were attending Saturday night, I sat back and enjoyed the conversation of the most charming, wittiest, and smartest man I'd ever known. By the time he finished his story about the latest snafu with the hospital's insurer, most of the wait staff and half the restaurant's patrons were doubled over in laughter.

He checked his watch and reminded me it was time to get on the road if I wanted to make my son's meet. He asked the waiter to prepare a doggie bag for me and then to prepare the bill while he walked his "lovely lady" to her car. There I kissed him with a bit more passion than usual and told him how much I loved him. He seemed a little taken aback by my sudden display of ardor, but told me he loved me too and kissed me on the cheek. I did love Robert. I was afraid of how the strange events of the last few days would affect us; I did not want to lose him. 

I had turned my cell phone off when in the restaurant. When I powered it back up, I saw Theresa had called. I called back and reached a very happy voice struggling to catch its breath. 

"Theresa, it's Sally. Did I call you at a bad time?"

Her voice was languid. "No, ten minutes ago would have been a bad time. Right now is just right."

There was no question about what they had been doing.

"Did you talk to your son?"

It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts. "I did. He is taking Stanford's mandatory introductory on-line course from 3:30 to 4:30 P.M. each day this week. Could he come at 5:00 P.M.?" Then she laughed. "I also told him how beautiful you are and what killer legs you have. He wants to know if you will wear garters and a leather dress."

I could hear her embarrassed son in the background, "Mom, you were not supposed to tell her that...."

When I said no to the clothes, Theresa was not fazed, "C'mon Sally it would be fun." I repeated my objection, she asked again. I started to object when I realized the pointlessness of arguing with a love-struck woman in a post-orgasmic haze. I also thought of a mid-calf leather dress I had not worn in awhile. I did look great in it. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 03



"Okay." but thinking of how Miles had required Theresa to display her garters on their first date, I figured two could play this game. "He has to agree that he can't see the garters, he will have to take my word." I heard her explain my condition to her son and his quick assent. His tone of voice indicated he was happy just to be out of this conversation. 

The after-hours appointment was contrary to policy. But I had checked my week's schedule and the 4:00 P.M. Wednesday and 3:00 P.M. Thursday were the only open spots. I didn't want to wait until next week, which was equally crowded, to deal with these two people. I could have the staff try to rearrange some existing appointments, but it was never a good idea to cancel sessions; my clients needed to know they are important to me, not fillers for time slots to be shuffled for my convenience. 

"Tell him to come at 5:30 tomorrow." That would be after my staff had left. There was no reason to let them know I was breaking the rules. 

I clicked off the cell phone. Because the meet was about fifteen minutes away I started to play the recording of that day's session, stopping it occasionally to dictate notes into my hand held recorder. 

*  *  *  *

When I arrived at the pool I saw Katie waving and sat beside her. She hugged me, "Hey, Dr. B." I looked Katie over. An attractive girl, she had a round face with big brown eyes, a wide mouth and full lips, and a pleasing sweet disposition. Her thick light brown hair reached her shoulders. She was a bit out-of-shape, she could lose ten pounds. Some of that extra weight was, however, was parked in a nice set of big round boobs. She also worshiped my son. I had long ago concluded they were sexually involved. As I looked at her now she struck me as a compliant, but not too innovative, lover. I thought about my son. He was probably the aggressive one. Did he take full advantage of Katie's submissive nature? 

The itch between my legs, which had been reignited by listening to the recording, intensified as contemplated my son's sex life and watched the hunky young men competing in the meet. None was as handsome as my boy, but they were handsome. They must have girlfriends happy to put out, I thought.

Katie and I cheered when my son won his first race of the day. Since he was not competing in the next two races I turned my mind to my promise to wear garters. I didn't own any, so if I was to wear them I would need to stop at a lingerie store. There was a nice shop near the pool, but I put the thought out of mind. This was ridiculous, I wasn't going to wear any. The lingerie shop, however, still intrigued me. Would something sexy spice up my love life with Robert? In my present state I needed a little more fire from that man. Since we lived about half an hour from the pool, it would be convenient to pick something up tonight. I decided a quick visit to the shop made sense.

My son won his second race and his team the meet. He came over to Kate and I. She plugged a big kiss on his mouth. I found myself leaning over to do the same until a cautionary voice in my head diverted me to his cheek. 

Normally after a meet one of the other parents took the boys to a local dive for pizza and some dancing, dropping them all back at the school to be picked up. As Katie and my son walked me to my car they told me that while she could bring them there tonight, she would be unable to pick them up. My son asked me if I could pick Katie and him up when the party broke at 10:30.

I did some quick calculations. If I visited the lingerie store and ran back by the house to drop off the doggie bag – I was already stretching the length of time it could remain unrefrigerated – I couldn't possibly pick then up before 10:45. He told me he could live with this small weekday curfew violation. I said I could if Katie's parents didn't mind. I didn't know her parents particularly well. He was a lawyer. A balding slightly nerdy guy, he had always been polite to me. She had been a physical therapist, but now worked part-time as a masseuse. It was clear she has once been an attractive women, but she had let herself go and could lose thirty pounds. She did feature an enormous pair of breasts, dwarfing even her daughter's. It was clear where Katie got her build. Katie checked with them and reported all was okay. 

When we got to my car my son said, "By the time you pick us up all my leering friends will be gone. Why don't take off that suit and put on a sexy dress. You can join Katie and I for some dancing."

I should have said no; it was a school night and I should not be out dancing with teenagers, but it did sound like fun. I equivocated, "You don't want to see this bag of old bones on the dance floor." But in the face of my son's assurance that he was not familiar with any old bag of old bones and Katie's enthusiastic endorsement, I conceded the point. "Sure, honey, if that's what you want." 

On he way home I stopped at the lingerie shop. I enjoyed the sexy clothes, picking out a bustier with matching panties, stockings, and garters for Robert. I also saw another set I liked, this a garter belt, panties, garters and stockings. It would fit well with that leather dress and I had promised Theresa's son. On impulse, I added these to my purchase.

I listened to my session with Theresa on the way home. When I arrived I pulled off my business suit and looked through some old dancing clothes. My favorite black dress was not so far out of style. It was short; it didn't make it quite half way to my knees. The bottom was layered and I remembered how it flared out saucer-like when I twirled around. I repeated my old move. It still did. The top was essentially a halter, with the shoulder straps coming together about two-thirds of the way down my bosom, displaying a healthy amount of cleavage and making it impossible to wear a bra. Were my breasts still firm enough for this outfit? I took them in my hand and felt their weight and heft. My thumb stroked my nipple – ooh, that felt good – and decided the girls were ready for the job. I added a skimpy pair of panties and five inch platform wedges. I knew I needed to take five minutes to extinguish the fire between my legs, but I was already running late. I had lingered in the lingerie shop longer than expected. I decided to leave.

On the way to the restaurant, which by this time of night was mostly a dance hall, I finished listening to the recording of Theresa's session. I had had some useful insights, but thought I needed one more review to confirm the ideas germinating in my head. I decided I would hit the gym in the morning, but instead of doing one hour of weights and one of cardiovascular, I would spend two hours on the treadmill and exercise bicycle listening to the recording, hoping that the exercise would distract my body and let my mind focus. With images of Theresa being ass-fucked by her son, the hunky young swimmers in their tight suits, and my posing in the new underwear for Robert swirling through my head, the burning between my legs had a mind of its own. The skimpy panties I had put on were already soaking wet.

I surrendered to the need, pushing my fingers inside my panties to bring myself to an orgasm. I was close to an explosion when I noticed the restaurant. I decided to pull around the back which, I hoped, would be empty and where I could finish the job. When I got there, however, I saw two people making out with full youthful passion and energy. Then I noticed who they were: Katie and my son, mouths locked together and hands roving freely. I flipped off my turn signal and continued to the end of the block. There, stopped at a red light, I shook as my orgasm hit me. I wasn't brought back to reality until the car behind honked, the light having turned green. I drove another block and turned left to double back to the restaurant. First, however, I pulled to the side of the road and sent by son a text indicating I was getting close.

When I entered the restaurant's parking lot they were no longer there. They were easy to spot on the dance floor. The waved me over and I joined in, dancing with both of them. After the song ended each of them looked me up and down. My son was his understated self, "Looking good Mom." Katie was more animated. "Dr. B, you are some hot." Katie insisted that I take the next couple of dances with my son. I sat down for the next number when a young man approached me. A handsome brunette, he asked me to join him on the dance floor. I looked over to my son, who nodded his approval. After that song ended, the proprietor announced that the next song was for girl's only. Katie dragged me onto the dance floor with her. My son joined the two of us for the next song. After that, reclaiming my role as a responsible adult, I told then it was time to get home.

Katie and my son piled into the back seat. Katie's house, except for the porch light, was dark. My son got out of the car to walk her to the door. After he had taken a few steps, he turned back to the car and motioned me to lower the window. When I did he leaned forward and said, "No peeking."

I peeked. After Katie unlocked the front door she turned to kiss my son good night. He initially did not respond, so she strained upwards to reach his mouth, stretching her neck and standing on her toes. My son lowered his head to hers, and kissed her. At the same time he took her hands in his, held them up, and backed her against the front of the house. He used his body to keep her spreadeagled form immobile against the wall. It took little imagination to envision his erection pressed against her sex. He held her like that for a minute or two, and then stepped away. She was practically panting, her face a mask of lust. She looked over at the car, but I knew she couldn't see me in its darkened interior. She started to reach for his crotch, but his hand stopped her. She went into the house.

My son returned to the car and opened my door. I noted his obvious erection.

"Do you mind, I would like to drive home." 

I stepped out of the car. "No, of course not honey."

He walked with me to the passenger's door and opened it. I got in.

On the way home he asked me if I had peeked. 

"I did. I guess I was a bad girl. Are you going to punish me when we get home?"

He seemed to consider seriously what I had offered as a joke. "Not this time, but the next time you're a bad girl, you'll get a double punishment. Do you think that is fair?"

Enjoying the game, I replied, "Yes. I will try very hard to be a good little girl."

When we got home we hugged. I was disappointed; his erection had disappeared. I retired to my bedroom, undressed, and slipped into my bed. There I put on my headphones and turned on the recording of that day's session with Theresa. I had no clinical intentions at all as I brought myself to another orgasm.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 04



Miles' Session with Sally

I considered decapitating my alarm clock. Last night's adventure had kept me up well past my normal bed time. Still, I headed for the gym accompanied by a cup of coffee, my tablet pc (to make notes), headphones, and the recording of Monday's session with Theresa. Thankfully, my surmise of the preceding evening was accurate: while the hard exercise dulled my libido I carefully reviewed Monday's session with Theresa.

I returned home to dress. I put on the garters and stockings, a lambskin red leather top, and a black leather skirt. The skirt fell just below my knees. I finished with a pair of ankle boots with a 3 3/4 inch heels. I checked the mirror; I did look good. If the boy wanted leather, he was going to get leather.

After the staff left at 5:00 I checked my hair, freshened my make-up, straightened my outfit, pick up my office, and reviewed my notes. Miles arrived promptly at 5:30. I put down the notes, shook his hand, and directed him to the couch. 

He was a good-looking young man. A bit over six feet tall, he shared Theresa's dark complexion and dark hair. Unlike her warm brown eyes, his were hazel. He was well-dressed and well-groomed. He also spent time in the gym; his body was lean with a good muscle tone. I could see why Theresa found him attractive.

There are many problems interviewing teenage boys, starting with their default position: never tell adults the truth. Moreover, even a straightforward teenager often does not have the vocabulary and experience to talk about him or herself. An adult may know his or her anger is a mask for fear or frustration, a teenager may not. I could pierce almost any wall erected by a teenager, but it could take time. I decided to test his honesty immediately.

We exchanged pleasantries and I confirmed he knew why he was here. His mother, it turned out, had related her experiences with me in explicit detail. I asked how he had prepared for our session.

"What do you mean?"

"Who did you talk to or what did you read in order to learn about the session and how you should respond?"

He looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Why don't you just tell me."

"I have a friend, Scott Stone, his mother is a psychiatrist, Lauren Stone."

"I know Dr. Stone." Lauren Stone was among our community's most respected mental health professionals. While she and I were not particularly close, I had worked with her on several occasions. She was meticulous and detail-oriented. Her appearance reflected her work. While she favored top-of-the-line designers, her clothes were never flashy. She was trim and her make-up and hair always perfect. I also remembered meeting her son, a tall lanky kid who was still growing into his body. He did not have his mother's cool grace. Another image then popped into my mind: Lauren on her knees, not a hair out of place, her make-up precisely applied, jerking off her son until he came, spraying his jism onto her perfectly coiffed face.

Miles was continuing his story. I was able to determine from context what he had been saying during my lapse of attention. After his mother's Friday session he had wondered whether I would want to talk to him. He called his friend Scott and invited himself over. While there he asked Dr. Stone if he could talk to her for a few minutes. She agreed and he told her there was a chance he would be visiting a therapist to address certain family issues. He wanted to know what his spin should be, how he should approach it. 

"What did she say?" 

"She said if I wanted to fix the problem, I would tell it as straight as I could, including saying I wasn't sure when I wasn't sure. She also warned me that the good ones would know I was spinning it. This meant not only that I wouldn't fool them, but that they would then have to ask themselves whether whatever else I said was, at best, designed to game the system or, at worst, flat-out dishonest. I asked who were the good ones. She rattled off about six names, and said she was sure she was forgetting several others. Yours was one of the names she mentioned."

Inside, I glowed with pride. Lauren Stone did not hand out compliments lightly. Of course, she didn't know how far over the line I had already gone with Theresa. That would, I suspected, rachet me closer to the bottom of her list. If I could get this consultation behind me, I could get back to the straight and narrow. 

"So how are you going to play it?"

"Well, Dr. Stone says play it straight, my Mom adores you, and you've already figured out I talked to another shrink, I mean mental health professional. I will do my best to answer your questions."

I had not really said that he had consulted with a professional, my inquiry was more general, but I let it pass. Having a client think you're omniscient can be helpful. I also let the "shrink" thing pass.

"When did you first find Theresa sexually attractive?' 

"As long as I can remember I thought I had the prettiest and nicest Mom in the neighborhood. My first explicit memory of seeing her sexually, however, was when I received my driver's license. She had driven me to Department of Motor Vehicles. After I got the license, she said I should drive home. I opened the passenger door for her to get in. She said I was more of a gentlemen then Dad and sat down. Her dress pulled up above her knees and I thought, it seemed out of nowhere, Mom's got great legs."

"What was your reaction to that thought?"

"Its hard to answer that question. I've thought about that moment thousands of times since it happened. I not sure if I remember what I thought or if I only remember what I thought about what I thought. If that makes any sense?"

Actually it did. The research was clear that the more often a person recalled an event, the less trustworthy the memory. The repeated contemplation of an event changes the memory of the event. I also noted that he had passed on an opportunity to tailor the story to his advantage.

"It is probably the right answer," I told him. He seemed relieved. 

"Let me ask you a slightly different question. It was two years from the time you remember first seeing your Mom sexually to the time you became lovers. What was your sexual attitude towards her during that time?"

He shifted position. "There were a lot of attitudes -- it depended on the time of day. I spent a lot of time telling myself I was a frickin' perve. I mean, it's weird checking out your Mom. Then I would tell myself if I looked at her often enough she would revert to being my Mom. But part of me knew I was lying to myself, the fact is I just liked to look. But in any case, it was all pointless, you've seen her, she's hot. Looking at her was not going to help.

"I would tell myself it was some weird passing fancy. I actually started to spend more time with her, thinking that hanging with her would move me back to normal. It didn't. I loved her company. After awhile I had to just admit I had a crush on my Mom which I hoped, as you adults like to say, I would grow out of. Not that I would have turned her down if she reciprocated, but she showed no interest."

"Did you consider talking to her about it?"

"No, I was way too chicken for that. The last thing I needed was to tell my Mom I was a pervert. But, still, I paid attention to her and learned what she liked. Mom would drop some hint about what she wanted to do Friday night. Dad wouldn't hear it, but I would. So she and I would end up at some show in the city and Dad would go to bed early. In my head I would pretend it was a date. Like, when we want to the symphony I would spend much of the performance rubbing her neck. But I got no response from her and I'm sure she had no idea what I was thinking. At the end of the evening, in my room, I would imagine that we were still together, that we were lovers and, y'know...." 

His voice trailed off. 

"Play with yourself?" I suggested.

"Yeah, that."

"It became sort of an ongoing fantasy for me. It was like a crush on a movie star, its fun to think about but you know nothing is ever going to happen, although you wish it would. It probably would have never gotten any further than neck rubs except for that day at the beach."

"Please, go on," I said.

"I had heard them fight the night before and was on the porch when the argument picked up the next morning. I listened to them start and then stayed longer than I should. I guess I spied on them. And while I was not all that experienced, I knew I could be a better lover than Dad. Since her sister had talked about how she loved to dance I had often fantasized about talking her out dancing. I decided to ask her. I figured if she objected I could pretend it was all in fun. I did not really expect, but I guess I hoped, something would come of it."

"How did you feel that night."

"Scared shitless." 

"Your mother described a confident guy full of bravado."

"That was the guy from my fantasy. I'd been rehearsing him in my head for months."

"One month into the affair what did you feel about its future?"

I could see he was, at first, reluctant to answer, but he decided to press on.

"I was loving it, but I was sure it couldn't last. On bad days I was convinced Mom would denounce the whole thing as insane, me a sex-loon, and throw me out of the house. On good days I just feared she would quietly, firmly, call it to an end."

"Did that change and, if so, when and why?"

"It did. Looking back, I should have realized right away she was serious about us. After all, she was putting a lot more on the line than I was. But I was mostly focused on my own fears. It was at the company picnic, which she told you about yesterday, that I began to understand that she loved and desired me the same way I loved and desired her. That is when what should have been obvious from the first started penetrating my thick skull."

Throughout the interview I could feel my level of arousal increasing. Dwelling on Theresa and Miles' sex-life was igniting a slow burn between my legs, but the picnic, which Theresa had described the day before, was like adding lighter fluid. I could feel my face flush. I hoped my dark skin would hide it from Miles.

My next question was to determine if Theresa could set limits and, if so, whether Miles could accept them.

"Are there any sexual acts you've suggested to your mother which she's declined?"

He checked his memory. "Three come to mind. There may be more. One of my best friends has long had a crush on her. I said it would make his lifetime if she would let him have some."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. The look on her face required no words. It was a stupid thing to say, I guess I was just feeling my oats. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. I ain't never going there again."

"The other two?"

"I've suggested threesomes. One with two women, one two men. She didn't flat out turn those down, but said she'd let me know if exactly the right person came along."

The image of me with these two exploded in my head. Would Theresa consider me? I had to ask. 

"Has it come up since that time?"

"On one occasion, about a month ago. I suggested a teacher at my school."

"What was her reaction."

"That look again. I figure she'll let me know."

Theresa appeared capable of drawing boundaries and Miles accepting them. I started to wonder why I had thought consent was a serious issue.

We then turned to a general discussion about the affair. My intention here was to gauge his feelings about his mother. Did he genuinely love her? Did he have her best interests at heart? Was he simply mouthing platitudes or were his actions consistent with his words? I came away satisfied. Theirs was an unusual relationship and while it suffered from the trepidations of any romance, I could find nothing inherently abusive or dangerous about it.

I looked at the clock. We had ten minutes left. The thought of letting him go so my fingers could get some personal time with the fire between my legs crossed my mind, but instead I asked, as I should, "Do you have any questions for me?"

He sat back, looked away, and then back at me, his gaze contemplative. He said nothing for a long moment, mulling over whether he should ask, or maybe how to phrase, what was on his mind. I encouraged him.

"Please feel free to say whatever you are thinking."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

My permission seemed important to him. 

"Okay, when my mother consulted with you last Friday, she thought you were aroused by our story. Is that true? Were you turned-on by her description of the night she and I became lovers?"

My first reaction was surprise. Was I that obvious? The second thought was to tell him it was none of his business. But it was his business. When I decided to continue my therapy with Theresa, and then to include him in it, I had an obligation to disclose any personal reaction that might affect my counseling. And I knew it was affecting my counsel. I had been a bad therapist when I failed to make this disclosure. I would do better now.

Yet, I was still embarrassed. I looked down, averted my eyes from his, and said, "Yes." I was surprised by my voice tone. It was meek, bordering on girl-like. 

"Don't look down, look at me."

I looked up. 

"Yes, what?" he continued.

"Yes, I became sexually aroused when your mother described the night the two of you became lovers."

"Don't feel bad about it, Doc. Mom told me your reaction helped her out. She was wondering whether her desire was a sickness, just like I wondered if I was crazy when I first became attracted to her. The fact that you found it arousing gave her comfort. It didn't make it right, but at least she knew it wasn't insane."

He had adopted the same breezy manner he had displayed the night he had seduced his mother. I knew it was an act; he had told me minutes ago it was an act. Yet I couldn't resist it. In fact, I welcomed it.

"After the session, did you masturbate thinking about what she told you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I fingered myself imagining you and your Mom in bed together, as lovers." 

"How soon?"

"You mother was probably still in the building when I started to finger myself."

"The forms that Mom and I signed gave you permission to record our sessions. Did you record the sessions with my mother?"

"Yes. I recorded the sessions with your mother." I wanted to look away, but I couldn't break his gaze.

"Have you listened to the recordings?"

"Yes."

"For professional or prurient reasons?"

"Both."

"Did you masturbate while you did so?"

"Yes. I fingered myself while listening to the recordings."

I could feel the blood engorging my breasts. I looked down. The dress would hide my stiff nipples, but I had no doubt he understood the effect of our conversation on me. Moreover, the act of confessing was somehow liberating. My improper conduct and lewd thoughts were public, I could no longer protect myself by pretending they did not exist.

Miles must have caught my gaze wandering to my breasts. He said, "You have beautiful breasts. Take off your blouse and bra."

I knew I should say no, but wanted to say yes. Instead, I said nothing. I stood, unbuttoned and removed the red leather top, and turned my back to him so he could undo my bra. I let it fall to the floor. I turned back. He took a breast in each hand. 

"Nice and firm." He lightly stroked the nipples, sending shivers through my body. 

"Did you play with these when you listened to the tape?"

"Yes, I made love to my tits with my hands. I also sucked and licked them." 

"What is your favorite part of the tape? Is there a moment when you like to cum?"

His hands, fondling my breasts, his fingers, caressing my nipples, were sending shockwaves through me. I wallowed in the sensations. 

"When you asked your Mom who owned her cunt. That's my favorite moment. That's when I like to push myself over the edge." 

"Well, Doc, does a good therapist turn her sessions into private pornography?"

"No." My voice was meek, playful, seductive. "I must be a bad therapist."

"Did the naughty therapist listen to yesterday's recording and play with her hot pussy?"

The need to confess to this man overwhelmed me. It felt good to tell the truth, reveal the hidden me. The nasty words I was using were like spoons stirring the burning fury between my legs. 

"I was naughty then too. I stroked my pussy over and over again, listening to Theresa describe how you shoved your fat dick up her ass. I knew it was wrong, but I so-wanted to be bad. I'm a bad little girl and a bad little therapist. Are you mad at me?"

He didn't answer my question. Instead he asked, "Is the bad little therapist wearing her garters?"

"Yes, she is."

"What kind of therapist wears sexy lingerie at her client's request?"

"A nasty one, a naughty one."

He reached behind me and lowered the zipper that ran down the back of the skirt, not far enough for the skirt to fall off, but far enough to slip his hand down its front.

"What kind of therapist tells her client he can't see her garters, but doesn't tell him he can't feel them?"

It is hard even now, years later, to describe how all of this felt to me. A week before I would have said it was impossible that I would be behaving this way. However, instead of being disgusted, it felt liberating to hear myself say these things. It was like a true me, a buried me, was emerging. 

"A nasty naughty slutty therapist."

His hand only briefly checked my garters before it plunged into my panties and to my thighs. He then followed the juice coating my leg back to its source and found the opening of my vagina. I had to grab his other arm to steady myself, leaning my forehead against his shoulder. I liked the strong muscles in his arm.

"You are a sopping wet cunt."

"I am a sopping wet cunt."

He held the walls of my labia together, trapping my clitoris inside. He slid his fingers up and down, stimulating, but never directly touching, my clitoris. I had to hold onto him to maintain my balance. I wanted him to apply more pressure and reached down to try to push his hand harder against me. He was too strong, I couldn't move him. 

I heard myself babbling. "You know how to take care of horny sluts like me, don't you baby. Your Mom says you're a great fuck. I need you to take care of me. I'll do whatever you want. I want to be your slut, make me your slut, please. Bad little girls like me need to be taught a lesson."

My breathing was becoming erratic and I was moaning. 

The tips of his thumb and index finger pressed the lips of my labia together, applying direct pressure on my trapped clitoris. I pulled my hand from his and placed it on his chest in order to keep from falling. I was breathing hard and heavy. I kept babbling, but sentences were beyond my ability. "Baby, so good baby, so good, shit, fuck, oh yeah, oh yeah." I was humping my hips against his hand.

Then he stopped. He sat in my chair. "Suck my cock, slut."

I fell to my knees before him, unbuckled his belt, pulled it off, and threw it behind me. I unbuttoned his pants and undid his zipper. I could feel his hard cock against my hand; had his mother described it accurately?. He lifted himself from the chair and I pulled his pants and boxers down. I started to reach for his manhood when he said, "Stop." I did, but I looked at him, panting, my eyes begging for permission. 

"I would be more comfortable with my pants completely off."

I started yanking his pants down, but was making limited progress. It took me a few seconds to realize he still had his shoes on. God, I had to be a smarter slut than this. I undid his shoes and pulled them off. I dragged his pants and boxers over his feet.

I turned back to his thing. It was as beautiful as his mother had said. I wrapped my left hand around it. While my hands were slightly larger than Theresa's, its girth still amazed me. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 04



"I've never seen an uncircumcised penis. Its beautiful."

I pumped it a few times. I heard him groan.

"That's a good slut."

I pulled myself closer, just to gaze at it. The power of its raw strength flowed through my hand, through my body, to my pussy. I pumped it a few times and a thick liquid emerged from its head. I stuck out my tongue and tasted some. It was yummy. Some more came out. This time I scooped it up with my lips. Screw expensive Italian restaurants; this was fine dining. His deepened breathing told me he had no objection to my serving myself.

I remembered the vein his mother described running along the underside of his cock. I lowered my body, while lifting his tool upwards. I saw it. I took my tongue and licked its entire length. The way he gripped the arms of my chair and the new drop of pre-cum that dripped from his shaft told me he liked it.

"Slut's thirsty, you don't mind. Do you?"

"If you can get it out, you can drink it."

"Slut says thank you."

I gathered the drop in my mouth.

I again pushed his thing upward, returning my eyes to that vein. I held his cock in my right hand, kneeling before it. This time, when my tongue licked from the vein's base to the head of his penis, I applied as much pressure as I could. I was rewarded with an appreciative groan and a thin smear of pre-cum on the head of his shaft. I took the face of his cock in my mouth and collected my reward.

I decided to further explore my first uncircumcised penis. I pulled the foreskin down and watched the head of his rod emerge from its cocoon. My churning cunt pulsed and I let out a breath of air. I thought how much I liked this, maybe I should have left my son this way. After I pulled the foreskin away I leaned forward and buried my nose in it. I loved it's dark musky smell. I pushed myself up from my knees, letting his cock fall between my breasts, which I gently rubbed together, further stimulating him. I licked each of my nipples, pulled his foreskin back, and rubbed the head of his penis against the areola, mixing my spit with his pre-cum. 

I knelt back down and with my tongue and lips explored the circumference of his penis where his foreskin was attached. I loved its dusky taste. I licked up and down its length, making sure I tasted each spot. I even tried playing it like a harmonica, but its girth made this near impossible.

By now he had slumped back in my chair. His hips were jerking up and down to no pattern I could discern, making my lollipop increasingly difficult to lick. I was about to take him in my mouth when, anticipating me, he said in a low gaspy voice, "Suck me," grabbed my head with both hands, and steered it to his cock. 

I needed no more encouragement. Grabbing his staff with my right hand to steady it, I sank my mouth over the head of his penis. My mouth was awash with saliva; I was having a Pavlovian reaction to his manhood. I had only two other men in my mouth before, but this thing seemed bigger than both of those combined. I decided to give my jaw time to adjust and directed my attention to the head of his cock.

While I frigged his staff with my hand, I clamped my lips around the top. I took only a couple of inches in my mouth, focusing on what seemed the most sensitive parts of his penis. While doing this I used my tongue to lather the head of his instrument, alternating among the specific spots that drew the loudest groans and the places that made his cock jump and twitch. I moved my head in a circle, carefully covering my teeth with my lips, allowing him to explore the entire interior of my mouth.

My teasing of his cockhead was getting to him. The pre-cum leaked out at an increasing pace, mixing with my saliva. He put a hand on the back of my head and started to saw his thing into my mouth. 

"Damn, Doc, you're a natural born cock-sucker. You like my fat cock, Dr. Slut? You want some more?" 

I had no answer other than a "Mpfff...," and a slight affirmative nod of my head.

He started to push his thing into my face. He was not rough. First an inch, then two, then three, as my jaw stretched to accept this invader. I continued to use my tongue to lash at his pole, while increasing the intensity of my sucking. Soon, my cheeks were concave and the sound of my slurping filled the room. He then, unexpectedly, nudged deeper into my face. His cock banged against the entrance of my throat. My nose bumped my fist, which was still frigging his shaft. I slipped my hand further down to his testicles. He jammed his thing into my mouth again. His pubic hairs tickled my nose and I started to gag. He let go of the back of the head and I pulled back, gasping for air. 

I gazed at him, wondering what I must have looked like with his cock stuffed in my face. The image warmed my already overheated pussy and throbbing clit and I had a sudden realization. I loved sucking cock. I loved having a man's hard thing buried in my face. I pulled on his cock with my left hand, desperate to get it back in my mouth. With my right hand I continued to explore his testicles. 

"Please, please, I need it back," I begged 

"Never had one this big before, have you Doc,' he asked.

Still panting, "No," I admitted. 

"It takes awhile to get used to it. Take a breather." 

I wanted to argue with him, tell him that a slutty therapist like me didn't need a breather, but he seemed to understand. "Doc, you're doing great."

I turned my attention to his scrotum. I had never really paid attention to a man's balls before. Now I marveled at their beauty and fecundity. This is where he kept the semen I was so desperate to drink or, thinking of my digression to Dr. Stone, have sprayed on my face. My gorgeous son had grown from one of these. Each testicle seemed as big as an apricot. I leaned down and kissed them. He emitted a soft moan and I looked up; he had sunk back into the chair, his eyes closed, his face passive.

I turned back to his balls. I gently licked each one. He jerked. "Careful, careful," I thought. I grasped his shaft, caressed its length, and turned back to his ball sac, kissing and licking it. Having throughly drenched it with my saliva, I gently took one of his testicles into my mouth. There I let it sit on top of my tongue. I sucked on it, using my tongue to massage its bottom and my cheeks to delight its sides. I opened my eyes and saw his cock looming before me; I enjoyed the sensation of being completely enveloped by his sex. 

His breathing was once again becoming ragged. I released the testicle from my mouth. I licked the length of his cock, bottom to top, and gave his sac another thorough tongue bath. I then took the other testicle in my mouth. My face was buried in his groin and I reveled in the powerful scent of his manhood. Did my son smell like him? Could a girl live on the taste and smell of a man's cock?

I gave this testicle the same attention I had the other one. By the time I pushed it from my mouth with my tongue, I was ready to drink his cum. I had become intimate with where his jism was made, now I wanted to enjoy its sticky sexy taste.

I kneeled up again, taking his shaft in both my hands. He looked into my eyes and through labored breath said, "Doc, you are going to have to teach that trick to Mom."

I had not thought the need between my legs could become any more intense, but the notion of sharing this young man with Theresa sent me to a higher plateau. I envisioned both of us kneeling before him, our naked sweaty bodies pressed together, worshiping his magnificent tool. I took one of my hands and plunged it into my skirt, finding my clitoris. It wasn't going to take much to push my oversexed body over the edge.

Then I heard him. "Uh, uh, uh, before you can do yourself, you need to do me." I didn't need any more incentive, but if I had that would have been it. I stopped frigging myself.

I aimed his cock at my mouth and took the plunge. I was not going to take my time. I bobbed my head, taking about four inches in my mouth, then pulling back until the head of his tool was between my lip. My tongue made love to whatever part of his cock was nearby and my constant moaning, which could be heard over the sucking sounds, made clear my lust. My right hand stayed at the base of his cock, jerking him off in time with my mouth. My other hand focused on massaging his testicles and ball sac.  

I looked up. His eyes were shut tight; he was lost in the pleasure I was bringing him. His hand found the back of my head, controlling my movement. He started rocking his hips with increased urgency. I ceded control to him. The head of his penis was banging against the back of my mouth and the opening to my throat. I focused on relaxing and suppressing my gag reflex. His balls tightened up; he was ready to cum. I scooped some of the juice that was spilling from my pussy and, using it as a lubricant, slipped my index finger inside his anus to stimulate his prostrate. With the thumb of my other hand I put pressure on the channel through which his sperm would geyser.

In response to my movements he opened his eyes and saw me staring at him. 

"Drink my cum, you slut, whore, cunt, bitch..."

His balls further tightened and he came. My thumb blocked the flow of semen for just a beat or two, drawing out and lengthening his climax. My mouth filled with his sperm and a bit dribbled between my lips. The rest I held in my mouth. I swirled my tongue through it, savoring its flavor. 

He looked at me, "Swallow."

I did. I then used my fingers to gather a few drops from my lips and chin and sucked them down. A girl could live on this stuff.

I kept my eyes on him as I once again reached for my pussy. He nodded, granting permission, and I found my clit. I has no intention of being gentle. With one hand I pulled up its hood. I placed a knuckle firmly on the bud. My body aflame, I attacked it. 

His words spurred me on. "Play with your cunt you magnificent slut. What a turn-on! A beautiful accomplished woman, dressed in a two thousand dollar outfit, a queen of society, reduced to jerking off before a teen-age boy. What would your society friends say? Would they recognize the horny crazy slut kneeling before me?" 

He went on and on. I was lost in his words and my sensations. Shuddering clenching spasms gripped me and I exploded, screaming, "Fuck, shit, damn, pussy, cock, cunt, fuck, fuck, fuck....." It was the most powerful orgasm I'd ever experienced. My body shook while juice poured from my pussy. 

Too weak to hold myself up, I slumped forward against his legs, gasping for breath.

As my senses returned, I saw his semi-erect thing before me. There were a few drops of dried cum on it. I leaned forward, slipped my lips over its head, and gobbled them down. I pulled back and prepared to take more into my mouth. I could feel it getting hard again. 

"That's enough pretty lady, I promised to save some for Mom." 

He pulled me into his lap, where I happily sat, his left arm curled around my back and my head resting on his shoulder.

"That was the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me," I told him.

Dissolving in the comfort of his arms, we exchanged a series of long lazy slow kisses. I could feel his cock becoming erect again and reached down to encourage it along. I wanted another crack at that thing. He took my hand in his, restraining me, "As I told you pretty lady, I promised to save some for Mom." 

I put both arms around his neck, "Did you and your Mom plan all this?"

"No, but after listening to her raving about the smartest, sexiest, classiest, most beautiful and wisest woman she'd ever met, I was half-in-love with you myself. I told her if she went on any longer she might talk me into cheating on her. She told me I would be crazy not to, but she'd forgive me if I told her all the details. 

"I do need to correct her about one thing," he added.

"Which is?"

"She's still the sexiest."

I turned to look this beautiful young man square in the face. How had I ever wondered whether Theresa had chosen the right lover? I leaned toward him, kissing the middle of his mouth.

"I need you to deliver a message to your Mom."

"What is it, Dr. Barry?"

Back to Dr. Barry, no more Doc or cunt or slut. 

"I think at this point you can call me Sally."

"Yes, Sally."

"You tell your mom," I ran my tongue from the center of his mouth to the right, taking a moment to explore the corner of his mouth, "that her therapist...." 

I brought my tongue back to the center of his mouth and ran it in the other direction. When I reached the corner I found his tongue waiting for me. Our tongues teased each other.

"wholeheartedly..."

I kissed an eye.

"endorses...,"

I kissed the other eye.

"nay, prescribes...."

I kissed his nose and then whispered in his ear, "an affair with her son."

As we dressed he assured me she'd want to hear the news from me. I was glad. I looked forward to telling her. I let him know that her appointment for the following day was still on. He walked me to my car and we got in one more sweet kiss before parting.

* * * *

As I was pulling out of the parking lot I turned by cell phone on. There was a message from Robert. I rang him back. I got him during a short break from a meeting; he could talk for only a few minutes. He had read the newspaper article covering last night's meet and asked me to congratulate my son. I said I would. He had a quick update for Saturday's party. I could hear voices in the background trying to get him back into the meeting. I told him the rest of the conversation could wait.

"Well this can't, I love you." 

"I love you too," I replied. And although I was still savoring the taste of another man's seed in my mouth, the problem was that I did.

I contemplated my situation the rest of the way home. I had achieved what I had dreamed about as a girl: a successful career, a place in society, a sterling reputation. My beau was a pillar of the community who treated me with respect and love. There was not a thing I wanted that I could not buy and not a door closed to me that I wanted open.

The last week had exposed a side of me I didn't know existed. It wasn't just that I cheated on Robert, half the society woman I knew had men on the side. My problem is that I had no idea where the limits of my new found sexuality ended, or if there was an end. I could get away with a discrete affair; I could not if I dragged my son's swim team in for an orgy. And I couldn't be sure I wouldn't if given the opportunity. I wanted to find a way to blame Theresa, but it wasn't her fault. She was a wonderful woman who had come to me for help. The new found me was exactly that, me. My final session with Theresa was tomorrow. If I could get through it I could take a few days off to see if I could pull myself together. 

* * * *

I arrived home at 7:00 P.M. There was a note from my son:

"I'll be home about 7:20. Got a big test tomorrow. Meant to ask if you could spend some time quizzing me, but forgot. If you can great, if not all my fault. Love."

Fish and broccoli were the evening's meal. I turned the heat on under a pot of water to steam the broccoli. I went to my room, peeled off my clothes, and threw them on the bed -- I would hang them up later — and put on a sweat shirt, sweat pants, and pair of sandals. I heard my son come in. He poked his head in the door.

"Did you get my note? Sorry about the late notice."

"We've got plenty of time. Dinner won't take long. I was going to saute catfish in a little oil and steam some broccoli. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. After that, I'm all yours."

His eyes turned to the bed. He gestured to my leather ensemble. "Hot stuff, you wore that today?"

"Yeah, I was feeling kinda sexy this morning."

"You're kinda sexy every morning. Your guy clients must have appreciated it." 

He pointed to the garters, panties, and stockings, which were a black heap on the bed. "What's that?"

I swallowed before answering. "I wore a garter belt and stockings today. I told you I was feeling sexy." 

Could he see my obvious discomfort?

"Oh, I guess I've only seen them on models in a catalog, not in a pile on a bed. I didn't recognize them. I didn't know you wore such fun underwear." He paused and then, eyes curious, continued. "Is this it, or do you have anything else?" 

"I bought something else the other day."

"I'd like to see it."

I should shut this conversation down. I didn't.

"It's hanging in the closet." 

"No, see it on you. It ain't gonna be sexy hanging on a hanger. It will be sexy on a beautiful woman." 

I had to stop this. "You don't want to see your mother in lingerie," I weakly protested. That was the best I could do?

"Actually, I do. I will get my school books out and prepare dinner. See you in a few minutes." 

I went to the closet and looked at the ensemble.

Well, it wasn't that evocative. It wouldn't be like my tits would be hanging out. In fact, it was less revealing than the bathing suit I had worn last Sunday. My son was no innocent; the look on Katie's face when he had left her at the door last night confirmed what I had long suspected, they were sexually involved. It would be nice to try it on before Robert saw it. 

I put in on. The bustier went to my waist, leaving about two inches of exposed flesh above the panties. Spaghetti straps ran over my shoulders. The front of the bustier was made of satin, which formed a tee shape that ran from the waist to my breasts and shoulders. There was a small red heart at the "V" of the neck line. The rest of the bustier, which covered my sides and back, was a fine mesh. My skin was visible through it. The outfit revealed more cleavage than I had anticipated: the top of the bustier ran about an inch above my nipples. 

The panties were essentially a black triangle held on my a white strap that ran around my waist. It featured a small red heart matching the one on the bustier. The triangle barely covered by sex. I could see a few pubic hairs poking out the side. I tried to push them back in, but it was pointless. They were hardly visible. I thought my son wouldn't notice. I did made a mental note to trim myself down there before I saw Robert. It was a good thing I had tried it on.

The garter straps ran from the bustier to the black stockings. I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder. My butt was essentially exposed. It was about the same as wearing a thong. I experimented with various shoes before settling on a black four inch heel with a white accent and strap across the toes, leaving the sides and back of my feet exposed. I fixed my hair and applied some make-up. 

When I got to the kitchen my son was not there. He had cooked dinner; that was clear from the pleasant aroma. The skillet and pot were sitting in the sink. Then I heard him shout, "Mom, come on out." I went to the door that led to the pool, which was left open. He was sitting at a table under a canopy, school books ready and two places set for dinner. He had poured me a glass of wine. 

I leaned out the door, "Honey, I can't go outside like this."

"Sure you can, no one will be able to see you under the canopy."

"Yes honey, but I need to walk to the canopy and," pointing to some nearby homes, "you can see me from some of those upstairs windows."

He surveyed the windows and waved me forward. "Don't worry, they're all bedrooms and it's too early to go to bed. Now come on."

I looked around. He was probably right. I started walking towards him. Right before I got to the canopy he said, "Stop. I want to check you out in natural light. Turn around."

Glancing at the neighboring homes, still afraid I might see a face in one of the windows, I did as he asked. 

"Damn, you look good. You certainly make that outfit look hot. I hope it's not wasted on Robert." 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 04



Gloomily, I thought to myself, it probably will be. He was unlikely to rip it off me and fuck me til the sun comes up.

I started to turn back around when he told me to hold my position a bit longer. I glanced at the mirror I had used last Friday to see where he was looking. There was no question this time, his eyes were feasting on my all but naked ass. I could feel my nipples stiffen and my pussy getting wet. Luckily, the bustier would hide the former and the panty's dark color the latter.

"Okay, honey, I'm glad you like it. I'm going back inside and change."

"No, come here and sit down. It will test my concentration. If I can focus on my schoolwork while you're wearing that, I know I'll ace the exam tomorrow." 

I was about to argue with him when I thought a saw a curtain move in one of the windows. I scooted under the canopy and sat down. 

We prepared for his examination. Sometime during the course of the evening he propped a foot on the edge of my chair. I moved it to my lap and massaged it. I asked for his other foot and completed the job. After ninety minutes he had the material down cold. Night having arrived, there was no trouble walking back to the house. I took his hand in mine and we admired the night sky. He returned his school books to his room and helped me clean up the kitchen.

"I forgot to thank you for cooking dinner," I told him.

"No problem. I should thank you for all the help with the schoolwork, especially since I gave you no notice."

"You know, I'd do anything for you honey."

We cleaned the last dish, our final act before heading for our bedrooms. I stepped back, presenting my lingerie clad body one more time. I found I was no longer shy about displaying myself to him.

"So, you think the old lady still has it?" 

"You want a serious answer?"

"Yes."

He didn't respond right away. Instead, his eyes meticulously examined my body. He then asked me to turn around. I did. I couldn't see him, but he was taking his time, looking me over. He took a step towards me, his left hand coming to rest on my ass. 

"You're a beautiful woman. The hours you've spent in the gym and taking care of yourself have paid off, you have an amazing body. Tight and hard and sexy."

I could feel his fingers moving against my behind.

"If Robert sees you in these and doesn't spend the next several hours worshiping you, ask him to visit with me. I'll have a talk with him."

I turned and hugged him. God, he had a great body. I moved to kiss him, only at the last second averting my intentions from his lips to his cheek. I pushed my breasts into his chest and found his cock with my abdomen. There seemed to be the beginning of an erection there, but I couldn't be sure.

"Thank you, honey."

In my room I washed my face and then stared at myself in my full length mirror. With music playing in my head, I danced and stripped. I imagined Robert's appreciative stares at my performance. When I finished I jumped into my bed, fingers massaging my breasts and exploring my sex. I would not need to listen to a recording of a session with Theresa tonight. Instead, I pictured Robert, inspired by my strip tease, mounting me to fuck me. Except, of court, it was not Robert I envisioned, it was my boy. And in my imagination, my boy could fuck and fuck and fuck.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 05



I woke up early Wednesday. Inspired by my son's compliments, I had decided to go to the gym before work. I was about to put on some baggy shorts and a loose tee shirt when I heard him in the kitchen. He was not usually up this early, but the night before he had mentioned some tightness in his shoulder and that he might go the health club before school to use it's whirlpool.

I guess a word of explanation is required. I have two health club memberships. There is a family membership at one of those big suburban clubs, which is closer to a country club than a gym. It was about a twenty-five minutes from the house. About a year ago, tired of both the drive and the men constantly hitting on me, I also joined Roxey's, a women only facility. It was five minutes from the house and a straight-out gym. No juice bars, no boutiques, just a place to work-out. At first I was not at all sure it was an improvement. The place was known as a lesbian hang out and they were even more brazen about propositioning me then the men at the old place. However the girls were good natured -- no one seemed to get their feelings hurt -- and quickly understood I played for the other team. When a few of them noticed my picture in the newspaper's society column, I became something of a mascot. 

When I heard my son in the kitchen I decided to dress-up and continue last night's show. I put away the shorts and tee shirt and slipped on a form hugging red tee and black leggings. When I entered the kitchen he was preparing oatmeal with fresh fruit. I poured myself a cup of coffee.

"Looking good, Mom."

He was getting fairly free about commenting on my appearance. Of course, I was getting fairly free about exhibiting myself.

"I'm going to Roxey's."

"Well, I'm sure the ladies will enjoy the view."

"They're always nice to me there."

"Bet they are. You got time for breakfast."

I said I did and he doled out the food. We briefly related our day's plans. He had a swim practice after school and would be home around 7:00. P.M. I figured I would be done with Theresa about 5:00 and would be home by 5:30. Feeling expansive, I told him I would prepare his favorite meal that evening: steak, potatoes, and okra. 

When we got up to leave he opened the door for me, "Ladies first, and it's not just to look at that terrific butt." I stuck my tongue out at him. He opened my car door for me, leaned down, and kissed me good-bye.

At Roxey's my outfit did elicit a few cat-calls. I found myself enjoying the attentions I might have to dress up more often. A few renewed their offers to introduce me to the wild side. I assured them I was still not interested, but if I changed my mind they'd be my first choice. That earned another set of cat-calls. I took a second look; some of these ladies were kinda cute. 

I returned home to shower and dress. I wanted to look snazzy for my last session with Theresa and chose a crisp white blouse with a spread collar, mother of pearl buttons, and three-quarter sleeves. The embroidered skirt fell to my knees. I put on a pair of suede boots with a three inch kitten heels and a pointed toe. The boots came to within a few inches of my knees.

The day went well and I found myself increasingly excited about seeing Theresa. However, when I checked my iPhone during the break before her session I was puzzled to find a message from Theresa asking only that I confirm receipt. Upon doing so I received an immediate reply. Theresa indicated that she would call the office to cancel her appointment, that I should tell the staff to charge her the cancellation fee, send them home, and let her know when they left. While re-reading this strange message, my staff buzzed me. Theresa had cancelled.

I went to see what had happened. There had been a computer glitch while Theresa had been on-line with Stanford completing enrollment forms. Today was the deadline and she had to cancel. She had apologized profusely and said we should charge the cancellation fee. 

I told the staff to charge her. 

"But she's so nice and she has a good excuse. Can't you cut her a break, Dr. Barry. She's never cancelled before."

"She's only been here twice, not exactly a track record." When the looks on their faces told me I had convinced no one, I said, "Okay, I'll think about it. However, there's no reason for everyone to hang around. I'll see you tomorrow." 

It took about five minutes for the office to clear-out. After the door closed I sent Theresa a text: "All clear." 

I received an instantaneous reply: "Take off your bra and panties and wait for me."

I responded: "Are you nuts?"

"Don't think so. Please!"

I had hoped I would be professional in my last session with Theresa, but it was hopeless. The message was insane, but I knew I'd do it. With shaky fingers I texted her, "Okay," and unbuttoned my blouse and removed my bra. I sat down, took off my boots, and slipped my already wet panties down my legs. I put my boots and shirt back on. I re-fastened only a few of the buttons, exposing enough cleavage to barely keep the ladies inside my shirt. My dark, erect, nipples were clearly visible through the white fabric.

I sat in the outer office fighting the impulse to fondle myself. After five minutes Theresa, wearing elegant black heels and black stirrup pants that molded to her exquisite legs and perfect ass, knocked and entered. In one arm she had a jacket and in the other a gift-wrapped box she held to her chest. She smiled, put the jacket on the counter, and said, " I brought you a present, but no opening it until the end of our session." 

She put the box down, exposing her chest for the first time. She was wearing a long sleeve white body suit without a bra. Her magnificent breasts and erect nipples were clearly visible. My mouth filled with saliva and we lunged into each other's arms. Our kisses were hard and desperate. Our tongues swirled back and forth. I explored her full soft lips and the deepest most obscure reaches of her mouth. While our bodies wrestled against each other, Theresa gradually pushed me against the door. Theresa then stepped away and stared at my breasts, which had fallen outside my shirt. 

She cupped one in each hand, taking a moment to appreciate their size and weight. Her thumbs teased my hard nipples. She leaned over and kissed me on the neck, throat, and lips. 

"Your breasts are so beautiful. I've wanted to do this since we first met." 

Bending, she kissed and licked my breasts, leaving no spot unloved. She took one of the nipples in her mouth, lathering it with her tongue. Her teeth then gently caressed the areola while she sucked my nipple. She turned to my other breast, by then throbbing with need, and gave it the same treatment. Pleasure was radiating throughout my body. I loved watching this beautiful woman make love to my breasts. Then she looked up, I smiled, and face beaming, she gently pecked me on the lips. She motioned me to the floor.

There Theresa took off her shoes and leggings. I discarded my blouse. Theresa then knelt before me and slid the boots from my legs. Goose bumps ran up my back in response to her gentle touch. We helped each other up. I was wearing only my skirt, Theresa only her bodysuit. I reached to her wet crotch and unsnapped the bodysuit. I sank my finger into her; she was as wet as I. I removed my soaked finger and licked her juice off.

She gave me a pouty look. "You should share." 

She was right; why was I being so selfish: there was more than enough to go around. I inserted a finger into her, withdrew it, and offered her the nectar. She took my finger in her mouth, cleaned it, and said, "I've tried it before. It tastes better when you serve it."

I pulled her face to mine and we shared a long kiss, taking turns exploring each other's mouths. I returned my finger to her groin and started pumping it inside her. When I realized she was trying to pull the bodysuit over her head, I stopped and gave her a hand. She was now naked before me. God, she was beautiful.

She moved closer, our bare breasts touching, our erect nipples caressing each other, and undid the latch of my skirt. It fell to the ground and puddled on the carpet; we were both naked. We locked the door and headed for the couch in my inner office.

Once there I pushed her down. I had noticed her lovely breasts when we first met. It was time we became better acquainted. I took each in a hand, kneading them, enjoying their gentle resilience. I rolled one upwards and brought my face to it's underside. There I began a long deliberate swipe with my tongue, moving towards the center of her chest, and them back across the nipple. She gasped. I repeated. I got the same reaction. She pushed the other breast towards my mouth.

"This one's jealous." 

I was not going to refuse such a lovely offer. I immediately took the nipple in my mouth. There would be no teasing here. I licked it hard. Her hands let go of her breast and snaked around my head, pulling me tight against her. 

After several minutes Theresa gently tugged my face from her breast, bringing it to her mouth. In the throes of arousal, our kisses were crazy with lust and passion. After ten minutes gnawing at each other, Theresa slid to the corner of the couch and beckoned me to sit between her legs, my back to her chest. I complied. I would, by then, have done anything she asked.

I leaned back into her arms, feeling her breasts against my back. Her left hand cupped one of my breasts; her right hand snaked down the front of my body to explore my sex. It was in no hurry. It roamed around my labia like a curious traveler, moving and then stopping, taking time to explore each turn, crevice, and bump. It occasionally dipped into my vagina, but never stayed long. It toyed with my clitoris, but although it got as close as pulling back the skin that covered it, it never directly manipulated my most sensitive button. Theresa was gauging my reactions, taking the time to understand what my body preferred and enjoyed. It was working: she had me squirming with need.

Finally, she pulled back the hood of my clitoris and with a thumb coated with my own vaginal dew, touched the exposed nub. While she did so she said, "Miles told me about the amazing blow-job you gave him. He says you're a talented cocksucker."

"Oh god," was all I could say, my body shuddering.

She continued to manipulate my clitoris, using my juice as lubricant.

"Have you sucked your son's cock yet? How does his dick compare to my son's? Whose is bigger? Whose is thicker? Whose tastes better?" 

Her words were having almost as powerful an effect as her fingers.

"I love your tits. They're so beautiful. Your hands are beautiful too. Play with your tits. I want to watch your lovely hands play with your lovely tits."

I took my breasts in my hands, tenderly manipulating them. It felt good, adding to the inferno between my legs.

Her fingers entered me, twisting inside my snatch. "I've seen your boy's picture in the paper. He's beautiful, that long lean body in those tiny swim trunks. Do you suck him off on the way home from a meet? When you get home do you bother to get out of the car or do you fuck him in the garage? I bet after he fucks you he gets hard again before you get to the bed room. I bet he can fuck for hours, come, and still say hard."

I was humping into Theresa's hand, jamming my pelvis into her fist. 

Her thumb returned to my clit. She stroked up and across it until, my breathing ragged, she slowed the motion, placing her thumb on top of my clit and holding it in place. After my breathing flattened out she repeated the process, heating me up again. I leaned my head back and kissed her, but as the pleasure racheted up notch by notch. I found I could not even concentrate enough to kiss. All I could do was wallow in the rapture between my legs. I heard Theresa's voice again, seemingly more distant than a few minutes before.

"I bet he loves fucking his pretty Mama."

Theresa's words echoed in my head. I started to babble: "I want him to fuck me, to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..." And then a powerful orgasm was upon me. I grabbed my breasts hard and briefly lost all sense of the world outside of my own pleasure. Then, while I was still trembling, but starting to drift down from this incredible high, Theresa scooped up some the flow pouring from my sex, and returned her attention to my clitoris. She pressed her wet fingers to my bud, setting off another orgasm. Thank god it was not an intense as the first one. Again, as I came down from this explosion she repeated her action, carrying me over the edge a third time. Then, as I sank into her arms again, she seemed to understand that I was spent. She gave me two of her wet fingers to suck, licked my cum off the other two, and said, "Enough?" Nodding my head and gasping for air, I was able to say, "Enough."

Theresa and I spent the next few minutes in a slow sensual kiss, each holding the other's head. I eventually just leaned into her body, feeling content with her arms wrapped around me. After awhile she asked, "You haven't fucked him yet?" 

"No, but I do so want to."

* * * *

A few minutes later we were laying on our backs on the floor of my office, resting comfortably on the thick carpet. Theresa's head was near the couch. My head was on her thigh, my body angled away from hers. I realized that for the first time since I'd met her, I was sexually satiated. Not that I wouldn't be ready for some more soon, but for the moment I was fulfilled. 

"Before you distract me again, I do have a professional advice for you and Miles."

"What is it Dr. Barry?"

"Do it as often as you can get away with it." 

She laughed. "I'll do my best to follow your advice. 

She continued. "I do have a confession to make. I told you that I choose you because you had been recommended to me and had a teenage son. Those were not all the reasons. I had seen your son's pictures in the newspaper. God, in those tiny swim trunks, he's beautiful. I figured that you, living with such a gorgeous young man, might be more empathetic to my situation. When I saw how my story aroused you, I knew that my own desires were, even if inappropriate, not a sign of burgeoning insanity."

"Was I that obvious?" I reached up to hold her hand,

"You know, we girls can tell."

A moment's pause and then. "Why aren't you bedding your boy?"

"We seem close." I related the events of the last few days.

When I finished Theresa said, "So why don't you just crawl into his bed at the end of the evening? He sounds ready to me."

"I'm scared Theresa. I've always been a good girl. I've played by the rules and it's paid off. I've always been proud of my discipline and self-control. All that seems to have deserted me. I make my mind up to do it by the book and ten minutes later I do the complete opposite. Think of all the rules I've broken with you and Miles. I never should have continued to see you after our first session, I've used recordings of our sessions to bring myself off, I've performed oral sex on your son. If anyone had suggested to me at 3:30 today that if I would end up naked on the floor with you by 5:00, I would have told them it was impossible. But here I am; it took only one look at you for my determination to crumble. "

Theresa honed in on the anxiety in my voice. She let go of my hand and stroked my hair and face, relaxing me. "Sweetie, don't be to hard on yourself. If you had acted, as you say, by the book with me, what would have happened?" 

"On Monday I would have referred you to an expert in incest. He or she would probably have not been able to schedule you until next week or the week after. You would have spent the first few sessions discussing your relationship with your father." I stopped. "Okay, I see your point."

Theresa's hand fiddled with my hair. "Maybe you should trust your instincts."

I rolled over and pulled myself forward, holding up my head on my hands, elbows on the floor. My breasts pressed against her legs and the carpet. 

I was looking right at her twat. 

"I never noticed how pretty these things are." I craned my neck to get closer. "Smells good too." I planted a kiss on her vagina and used my tongue to collect a few drops of the liquid nestled in her pubic hairs. "Mighty tasty." 

Theresa covered herself with hands. "I promised Miles exclusive use tonight."

"Lucky boy," I responded. 

Returning, reluctantly, to the subject, I went on. "It's more than just my professional world. I like my life and it now seems clear I built it by tamping down my sexuality. Now it's all tumbling out of control. It's not that I can't have a lover on the side, half the society women in this city have one of those, or even that my lover can't be my own son. Assuming he co-operated it would be easy to keep that a secret. The real problem is that I'm afraid I won't stop there. I've evaluated my son's girlfriend as a potential lover and contemplated bringing his swim team home with me. I flirted with the girls at the gym this morning and I was more than half-serious. I've had sex with two clients. Yesterday, if your son had brought three guys off the street to fuck me, I would have happily volunteered. Once I cross the taboo with my son, I don't know whether or where I'll be able to stop. 

"I'm thirty-seven; five days ago I had had only two lovers in my life. Now I've added two more. Both patients, whom I'm not supposed to touch, one a boy half my age and the other a woman. Hell, I didn't even know I was attracted to woman six days ago."

"If it makes you feel any better, neither did I."

I smiled. "I love Robert and I love my place in society. I love the good we can do. I'm a poor girl who made it big. I'm proud of myself and what I've achieved. I can keep all that with a lover; I cannot keep that if I try to take on my son's swim team or any random stranger who strikes my fancy. Word will get out."

"Well, if you can't deny or control your sexuality, who can?"

I don't know whether it was the comfort I took in Theresa's presence, or whether, for the first time in days, the buzz between my legs was not distracting me, or whether Theresa's questions led me to the answer, or some of these, or all of these, or something else, but the pieces suddenly fell into place. 

Why had I assumed the issue between Theresa and her son was control when there was a far simpler explanation: her son was a teen-age boy trying to hide his fears and insecurities with a show of well-rehearsed bravado? How could I conclude that a woman as smart and savvy as Theresa had been dragged into a sexual relationship she did not want? How could I think that her son, who clearly adored her, would hurt her? If Theresa simply wanted some sex on the side, she could find it. I was the one turned-on by the idea of control. I was the one who listened to the recording and brought myself to orgasm when Miles asserted ownership of her.

I turned my mind to my ongoing tete-a-tete with my son and realized I had made a rookie mistake. I had projected my own desires onto Theresa and her son. Afraid of my own burgeoning sexuality, I wanted, needed, someone to take control. There was no one in the world whom I loved, trusted, and found as sexy as my son. I also knew I could rely on him.

I had concluded that Miles wanted to control Theresa because I was projecting onto him my longing for my son to take control of my sexuality. He would not only be a tireless live-in lover, but, if I turned myself over to him, maybe he could keep me from doing something dangerous while I learned to control myself. Over the last few days I had repeatedly presented myself to him sexually. His response was interested, but cautious. He had dressed me up, flirted with me, and violated my personal space, but had gone no further. Like Miles, he was a teenager, feeling his way into unknown territory; worrying that if he was wrong he would be headed for an ego-deflating rejection and catastrophic damage to our relationship. I was not going to wait any longer. I would no longer hide from what I needed and what I was becoming.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 05



I looked at Theresa. I knew she understood. "Do you think he'll do it?"

"Sweetie, based on what you've told me, he's already 99% of the way there and," gesturing to my body, "no sane man would turn that down." She jumped up. "However, if he needs any help, this may be the answer." 

She left the room and returned with the gift. I opened it; inside was a white chemise. I held it up to the light. It was sheer enough to show all a girl's charms. I held it to my body; it almost hung to the bottom of my privates.

"Theresa, you're the best." We hugged, we kissed, and I could sense the lust building. 

She pushed me away. "As I said, I promised Miles dibs tonight. Another time?"

She'd get no argument from me. I wondered if my son would approve.

I checked the time; if I hurried I could get home, fix myself up, and prepare dinner.

As we gathered our things I asked Theresa whether her husband was out again that night. She said no. She and Miles would have to hunt up a hotel room. He was waiting for her at a coffee shop down the road. I went to a drawer and fetched a spare office key. 

"Invite him up here. When you leave slip the key under the door in an office envelope." 

I dressed while she tracked down her phone and called him. She and I parted with a kiss, my eyes drinking in her remarkable beauty. 

When I got out of the elevator on the ground floor I saw Miles crossing the lobby. I had enough time for a quick diversion. I held the elevator door open and pulled him inside. I hit the button for my floor, crushed my face to his for a sexy kiss, and sank to the floor. Conveniently, he was wearing sweat pants. I pulled them down over his thick, hardening prick. I took him in my mouth, sucking him until I heard the bell for my floor ping. I released his now hard cock from my mouth and stood, pulling up his pants.

"You got her primed, Doctor Barry?'

"It's Sally and I think so." I looked at the tent in his pants, "And you too. Show that sweet lady a good time tonight."

"Doctor's orders?"

"Doctor's orders."

* * * *

At home I bathed and perfumed myself, fixed my hair and make-up, and put on my new chemise. I tried it with and without heels. The shoes accented my legs and ass and made me look more sexually aggressive. Bare feet were more submissive and vulnerable. I put away the shoes. I set the table, prepared dinner, and was lighting the candles when my son walked into the kitchen.

He couldn't have been expecting this scene, but showed no surprise. I guess I had hoped he'd lay me across the table and fuck my brains out. But he didn't; he sat down and let me serve him dinner. My stiff nipples, forming a tent in the lingerie, made my frame of mind evident. 

After we started eating he looked at me with a steady gaze. "You have something to tell me?"

I had rehearsed what I was about to say, but hadn't expected him to be so direct and calm. I was struck by his self-control. He, like me, had absorbed the events of the last few days. If we were going to step over the line, he wanted me to lead. 

"Yes son. I've been a good girl all my life. I been with two men, your father and Robert. Your Dad started as a good lover, but our troubles sapped his enthusiasm. Robert is, well, sweet. I never worried about it; I was satisfied.

"About a week ago I started to think about sex constantly. I've imagined myself with your swim team, with your girlfriend, but mostly with you. To be plain, I want you as a lover. 

"But there is something else I need from you. My sexuality is out-of-control. Without some help there is no telling where I will end up. If I do end up in bed with your swim team and one of them brags about it, my place in the world will be destroyed. Still, I'm not sure if I can say no anymore. I need you to control my sexuality. I will be your sex toy or whatever else you want to call it. My pussy will be available to you whenever and however you want it.

"I've always followed the rules; now I need to break them. But I don't trust my own judgment. I trust you. I also want you, desperately. It turns out I'm not a good girl and doubt I ever was. I am going to stop pretending. I am going to be a slut. But I want to be your slut. Please take me honey, make me yours."

I slipped a finger between my legs and showed it to him glistening with my juice. 

He cut another piece of meat and brought it to his mouth. After he chewed and swallowed it, he asked. "Would there be any restrictions on my sex life."

"None."

"I need time to think." 

He calmly finished the meal. I, not calmly, did the same.

After he took his last bite he looked at me and said, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Let's find out. You can clean the dishes later. Right now, take me down your throat."

I had never had a man down there before, but if this was a test, I intended to pass.

I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. The next few minutes were exquisite. I hadn't seen my son naked in years, but still, having seen him in his micro swimming trunks, I shouldn't have been surprised by what I was finding. Nonetheless, stripping him down thrilled me. I knelt before him and unlaced and removed his shoes. I rolled down his socks. I bought his foot to my mouth, sucking his toes. I stood and lifted his shirt over his head. He was so pretty. I longed for him to throw me on the bed and take me, but he was under control. He had instructed me on my task and I would obey. I undid his belt, released the snap on his pants, and pulled down his zipper. I tugged off his pants and underpants. And there it was.

His cock was longer and slimmer than Miles'. I pulled it to my face. Blood vessels ran it's length, with a marked blue vein on the left side ending at the head. I took in its clean scrubbed odor.

"It's beautiful son. Katie's a lucky girl. Now I am too."

I focused my attention on his tool. If I was going to take this thing down my throat, the first thing I would need to do is lubricate it. I started licking it, making sure that my spittle coated every millimeter. I grasped its base with one hand, tilted it towards me, said, "Come to Mama," and took it my mouth.

He later told me it wasn't until this moment that he started to believe that this was not some kind of weird joke I was playing. 

My initial aim was to get used to it in my mouth and test my gag reflex, but it tasted far too good to leave at that. I started bobbing my head up and down while licking it's sensitive underside. I loved having his rock hard member in my mouth. He placed his hand on my head, held me firmly in place and took on the task of guiding my motion. As he started banging against the back of my mouth I focused on relaxing to control the gag reflex. I wondered how he felt about sawing his cock into a face that was, until a few days earlier, the cool authoritative visage of his mother.

"Ready?" he asked.

I tried to say yes with my eyes while what I mumbled around his member must have sounded like, "mpphff." 

He withdrew his penis from my mouth. I took a second to rotate and loosen my jaw. I have never tried to deep throat a man before, but one clear requisite seemed to be lining up your mouth and throat. I got on the bed on my stomach, piling pillows under my head until it was pushed back as far as comfortable. My son understood my plan and stood before me. While I looked forward to him eventually assuming control, I did want some say-so in these initial stages. Thus, I put my right hand on his staff behind his ball sac and moved him forward and into my mouth. He hit the back of my mouth. I moved my head slightly to align my throat to his rod and then stretched forward. The head of his cock entered the opening of my throat.

He placed one hand on the back of my head, applying some slight pressure. My throat was expanding, trying to adjust itself to his size. It hurt. I felt a shock of apprehension and started to gag. My eyes teared. My son released my head and pulled his cock out. I coughed and struggled to clear my throat.

I looked at my boy. I could see concern; he wasn't sure if we should continue. I had to let him know I was a more determined slut than that. I decided to take the time to increase the lubrication in my mouth before trying to deep throat him. I took him back in, letting him reach the back of my mouth to a point where it was uncomfortable and I was on the verge of gagging. After about twenty seconds I pulled my head back and devoted myself to sucking him. I repeated the process several times. 

As I did so my mouth filled with slippery heavy saliva. After I made sure I had a mouthful of it I took the base of his cock in my hand and urged him forward. Meanwhile, I placed his hand on the back of my head and covered it with my own, letting him know I wanted him to take control. I longed to be completely at his mercy. This time the knob of his penis easily found the opening of my throat. Again, it had trouble pushing in. I relaxed, repeating to myself that I would adjust to the pain and my throat to his manhood. If I didn't fight it, it would happen. 

He held my head in place while steadily increasing the pressure of his cock against my throat. I swallowed several times, creating a suction that helped pull him in. Finally, I felt the opening of my throat give way. The head of his cock entered my throat. I looked up. His eyes were closed as he savored the sensation. He held it there, letting my mouth and throat adjust. I imagined my throat expanding to accommodate this invasion. Somehow this, and maintaining a steady breathing, helped me relax. I pushed my head forward slightly, which he understood as a signal to continue. He held my head in place, while sliding himself inside me in a slow careful motion. He later told me he could see the bulge move down my neck as my neck molded itself to the flagpole between his legs.

Finally, my nose was nestled in his pubic hairs. I had a little trouble breathing, but quelled a momentary panic. I found long deep breaths worked best. He held still, allowing me time to adjust. I signaled I was ready to proceed by using my tongue, which I had all but forgotten about, to stroke the underside of his penis.

That's when he started to fuck my face. He began slowly, but eventually turned to long deliberate strokes, actually pulling his cock completely out of my throat so that I could lick the head of his penis, before pushing back in. His cock was soaked with my spit. Each time he pulled out, I grabbed and frigged the base of his penis. 

By this time my vagina was filling with liquid. I imagined what I must look like, laying on my bed, at his mercy, a receptacle for a cock. What would my society friends say to that? In public they would cluck and cackle. In private, I suspect, most of the men would gladly trade places with my son and the women beg for a lover like my boy. 

I began a low quiet hum, causing a slight vibration in my throat. My son showed his appreciation by increasing the pace of his thrusting. I found myself lost in the moment, submitting to the overwhelming crash of sensation. He placed his hands on either side of my head, further assuming control. All I could do was place my complete trust and faith in him. I looked up at my adorable son, his face a mask of pleasure. My function was to bring him joy.

His movements, which has been long and smooth, were becoming jerky. He was close to cumming. I focused on relaxing my throat and suppressing any urge to gag. Then he pushed hard, jamming my nose against his flat stomach, grunted, and came. His cock so completely filled my mouth and throat that I could actually feel his sperm shooting up its length and spraying inside me.

As he pulled out, I stopped him when the head of his penis was still in my mouth. There I nursed it, enjoying the taste of his jism, something I had been deprived of when he dumped his load directly into my tummy. I also made sure he stayed hard.

When I was done he lay beside me on the bed. 

"That was amazing, Mom. Katie won't do it."

I straddled him, grabbed his pole, and aimed it for my drenched pussy. I wanted him inside me. I sat on it, letting it slowly fill my cunt. I wanted to memorize every sensation as it slithered into me. I could feel the walls of my cunt parting. They had never held anything this big before. 

After he was all the way in, my pubic hairs intertwined with his, I leaned forward, my hands on either side of his head. I looked him straight in the eye. "You can do anything to me you want, any time you want. But I don't expect you to give up Katie. She looks like quite the scrumptious piece."

"She is Mom, she's a fun fuck." 

I rocked my hips, blissfully feeling his cock slide gently inside me. My boy was as stiff and hard as steel. In my state of arousal it wasn't going to take long. I slid my body forward and draped my breasts over his face so he could lap them with his tongue. I leaned further forward so he could take them in his mouth. He sucked my nipples. Why had I deprived myself of this?

I pulled my saliva-covered tits from his mouth and lay down on his perfect body. Our bodies were coated with sweat, allowing us to easily slide against each other. I loved the feel of my breasts trapped against his chest. My cunt and his dick were pistoning in perfect time. My clit was sliding across his muscular stomach and hard pubic bone. So this was what sex was all about? Juice was gushing from me. I needed this all the time. I started babbling.

"Fuck me, fuck your slut mother, fuck your whore mother, this is I want, to be your whore slut, your slut whore, fuck...." It felt so good and then, lights bursting in my head, I screamed "OHMIGOD," and came, flopping on his chest like an impaled fish.  

He continued to rock his penis inside me as I slowly regained consciousness. His movements were slight, not interfering wirh the joy cascading through my body, but making sure he stayed hard. I started to match his motion.

I remembered my fantasy of the previous Saturday night at Robert's house. I propped my head on his chest and told him the story. 

"Honey, last Saturday night Robert and I were having sex. I started to imagine it was not him, but you. I got real close to cumming, but Robert beat me to the punch and couldn't finish the job. I wanted to come so bad.

"After he fell asleep, I snuck out of the room and found a private place. Honey, I started to play with my cunt. I imagined I was a horny bitch dog and that you were fucking me from behind. You were holding your bitch dog in place, one hand in my hair and the other grasping a breast. You made me play with myself. I got so turned on thinking about you fucking me. I had an amazing orgasm and slept like a log. Honey, baby, would you help Mom live out her fantasy. Make me your bitch dog."

His face lit up; he liked the idea. 

"Get on all fours, on the floor."

I scrambled off the bed, assumed the position, my butt pointing up at him, and looked over my shoulders. I barked, "Arf, Arf," and started panting with my tongue hanging out.

"What a slut you are, opening your legs to your own son." 

My son knelt between my legs. I tucked the head of his penis in my vagina. His hands on my hips, he pushed inside. We began screwing. I loved the way he drilled me. This was not the polite sweet sex I had with Robert. This was the way a rutting bitch dog fucked. He kept slamming into me and I pushed back as hard as he entered me. I could hear our bodies slapping together. After we got the rhythm down, he grabbed my hair, and pulled my head up and stretched my entire body. His other hand wrapped around my breast, squeezing it hard. He twisted and pulled on the nipple. The pain in my breast flowed to my cunt, heating it up further. He fucked me deep, deeper than I had believed anyone would ever go. 

He was asking me questions, "You ready to be my sex pet, Mom? You ready to be my fuck toy? You ready to be my whore?" 

To each inquiry I, half-incoherently, replied, "Yes."

"Bark, slut."

I started with a series of "arfs," which quickly degenerated to gutturals growls. 

"Play with your cunt, slut."

I reached between my legs. In the past week I had gone from a girl who masturbated once or twice a month to one who did it constantly. In the process I had developed a certain expertise and I got hotter and hotter as I made love to my clitoris. I was getting close to another mind-bending orgasm. I could feel his balls banging against me. I was pushing back into him with as much fury as he thrust into me. His long cock was penetrating my cunt, reaching the wall of my womb. "Fuck me hard," I begged.

"I'm getting close Mom. I'm going to cum inside your tight wet warm pussy. I'm going to fill you with my seed, give you my jism." His dick was perfect. "Come inside Mommy-dog."

I was having a series of small orgasms when, grunting, he dumped his load inside me. That pushed me over the edge and I exploded. We fell forward, his cock slowly sliding from my cunt. My son had made me come so hard. I had never dreamed my body could feel this good. Even my fingers tingled. I looked at my son. His eyes were closed and his body covered with sweat. His semi-soft dick was coated with my juices. The pleasure was evident on his face. I had made him come hard. I reached inside me and scooped out a combination of his seed and my juice. I tasted it; it was good. Over the last few days I had learned to love the taste of my own nectar, but this brew was better. I decided not to waste what was coating his penis and licked him clean. It tasted best of all.

I was on my way to what I wanted to be: my son's slut.

We crawled into bed. My beautiful son held his naked mother as we drifted from orgasmic haze to deep sleep.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 06



While preparing breakfast the next morning I heard my son's alarm go off. I went to his room and turned it off; I didn't expect he'd be spending many more nights there. I loaded up the breakfast tray and headed for the bedroom, where I started licking his balls and cock.  I figured that beat an alarm clock.

"Good morning, Mom."

His happy smile showed that he had not spent the night wracked with guilt. Still, was he ready to accept his new role in my life?

"Good morning. I fixed breakfast."

After we ate he asked, "How are your mouth and throat?"

"The jaw is fine. My throat is sore, but closer to uncomfortable than painful."

"No more face fucking for a few days?"

"Son, I was serious last night. I want you to control my body and sexuality. I want you to use me however you desire."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that, Mom. I'm a teenaged boy. I'm not sure if I'm in control of my hormones. I'm don't know whether I want responsibility for yours."

I won't deny that the sad look that flashed across my face was not, in part, manipulative.

He bit. "On the other hand, the fringe benefits have been pretty good so far. Let's say we try it and see how it feels."

"Fair enough."

I lovingly cleaned my son's body in the shower while he outlined a change in the morning routine. He would drive me and my Mercedes to school, which I would then drive to work. That afternoon he would catch a ride with a friend to swim practice and back home. 

He told me to take out his cock as we backed down the driveway. I released the beautiful monster and stroked its length. I looked at the other drivers, oblivious to what we were doing. What they saw was an attractive mother dressed in an expensive conservative suit and her handsome son. What would they think if they knew I had his cock in my throat last night and in my hand right now?

When we turned into the street leading to his school, he interrupted my reverie. "I have this recurring fantasy about driving around campus while a beautiful woman sucks my cock."

The old me thought, "My god, what if someone sees us?" The itch between my legs signaled that the new me loved the idea.

I took the head of his penis in my mouth, focusing my attention on the shaft just beyond the crown. I licked hard on the underside while my lips slid back and forth around its girth. I released him and asked, "Is this another fantasy Katie declines to fulfil?"

"No, Katie loves doing it." His hand directed me back to his cock. He was uninterested in further conversation.

I grabbed the base of his manhood with one hand and cupped his balls with the other, rolling them carefully with my fingers. I brought my tongue to the base, licking slowly to and then over the head. I nibbled his tip before taking it into my mouth. I thought about taking him down my throat again, but the angle made this impossible. Instead, after his cock reached the back of my mouth, I pressed my lips against the tool and sucked hard while slowly, teasingly, pulling my head back up, tightly compressing my lips around him.

My son issued a contented, "Mmmmmmm...."

I repeated the process, loving the feeling of my son's hard cock in my mouth. I heard him lower the window. The car filled with the sound of the school yard. Despite a moment of panic, I continued sucking. Then I heard Jimmy, another member of the swim team, shout, "Nice wheels, where'd you get 'em." My mouth had reached the tip of his penis. He took my head in one of his hands and directed it back down his dick.

"It's my Mom's car. She's coming to pick it up later. Can I hitch a ride with you to practice and home tonight." 

"Sure," was the reply.

"Thanks."

The car rumbled forward, I was reaching the top again when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey stud." 

It was Katie.

"Hey babe."

My first thought was horror, what if she comes over to the car and sees me? My mind and body, however, were on different pages. I felt the need between my legs intensify. What if she did come over? Would she be jealous? Maybe not, maybe she would offer to join us. I could take the kids home, cancel my appointments, and get a note excusing them from school from a doctor friend whose eyes always lingered a beat or two too long on my breasts. The three of us could fuck the day away.

I attacked my son's cock with new vigor, hoping he would come in my mouth while talking to his girlfriend.

It was not going to happen. My son said, "Meet me at the flagpole in ten minutes," and the car accelerated. As I listened to the gradually receding voices of his schoolmates, my head bounced up and down in my son's lap. My hand was stroking what was not in my mouth and my tongue loving what was. My boy matched his movements to mine. 

"Oh fuck, yeah Mom. Unnhhhhhn... suck it."

The car came to a stop.

"Oh god, ohhh, I'm gonna come in your mouth, cumming, eat my cum Mom....."

He shot into my mouth.  

Since he had deposited his load directly into my stomach the night before, I took the opportunity to savor this batch. It was salty, slightly sweet, sticky, and gooey. I let it flow around my mouth and tongue, then I gathered it against my lips and settled my tongue in it. How come I never noticed how great this stuff was? I was lost in the moment when my son spoke.

"Swallow and sit up."

I did and did.

I looked around. Through my lust soaked mind I could see that we were in the student parking lot. My son had pulled into the back of the lot into a spot, I later learned, was unofficially reserved for him. We were surrounded by other parked cars. No one was milling around. At his indication I opened the door and got out, walking to the driver's side. He got out and held the door open for me as I got behind the wheel. Leaning through the window he ordered me pull up my dress, exposing my panties. He slipped a finger inside me.  It sent electric shocks through my body and confirmed I was soaking wet. 

He looked at me, "Can you work like that?"

My level of arousal was so high that I found it hard to put together a sentence, "It, it, you know, it makes it hard to, hard to concentrate."

He opened the back door, grabbed his book pack, and pulled the towel from my gym bag. He told me to put it on the seat and sit on it. I complied.

What did he have in mind? 

He reached into his book sack and pulled out a six inch flesh colored dildo. I knew what it was, of course, but I had never actually seen one. It took my addled brain a moment to take it in.

My son read the confusion on my face. 

"Its Katie's, Mom. I was using it on her in my bedroom a few days back when you came home unexpectedly. She couldn't very well walk out the front door with it, so I hid it. I guess I'll have to tell her I forget to bring it to school again. Another thing, I never did clean it off so that's her dried cunt juice coating it. You don't mind, do you?"

I nodded no.

"Good, now lift your bottom and take off your panties."

After I did so he slid the dildo into me.

"Ahhhhhhhh...."

"You can't do anything to bring yourself off. I know you want to fuck yourself with it or work it with your cunt muscles, but you can do that only after you reach your office. If it slips out you can put it back in, but carefully. No cheating. There is one feature you are allowed to use." He flicked a switch attached to the dildo. It started vibrating.

"On god, oh god, arrrrr..."

He turned it off.  

"I know it is hard, but pay careful attention. In five minutes you will leave the parking lot. Instead of taking a left hand turn and driving out the way you came in, make a right hand turn. It's a service road that leads back to the main road. Once you go around the first turn you will see an old shed and a flagpole. Drive by the flagpole at a steady speed and pay careful attention to what is going on there. Once you get around the next turn and can no longer see the flagpole you can stop. Do you understand?"

"Right hand turn, flagpole, don't stop. Got it."

"One last thing. Turn the dildo on as you leave the parking lot and keep it on until you get to the office. Drive like you are now: dress pulled up, panties down, dildo and pussy exposed. If the dildo slips out, push it back in, but carefully. Roll the window up once I leave. Do you understand?"

I shook my head yes.

I looked at the clock. Five minutes. I fought to relax, to suppress the sexual need burning inside me. I would make some progress and then, as I contemplated my situation – sitting in a high school parking lot, legs spread, pussy and dildo exposed – my libido would swell again. My hand would drift down to the dildo, but, as my son ordered, I would will it to stop before it did what my body so desperately wanted, drill myself hard with the plastic cock. I fought to recall his instructions. Had he forbidden me from playing with my breasts? I couldn't remember him saying that. I slipped my hands underneath my tailored blue pinstripe jacket and fondled my sweet tits. I knew I should be subtle, but it was hopeless. Soon I was fiercely squeezing my boobs and nipples. What if I got caught? How was I to drive when all I could think about was sex? But my self-protest was pointless, I was hopelessly enthralled to my lascivious needs.  

Five minutes went by. I put my hands back on the wheel and slowly backed out. I fought hard to concentrate and ignore my cunt, which was screaming in need. As I drove through the parking lot I saw two cute boys get out of a car. They looked alike; they were twins. Imagine fucking twin teenage boys. I could fuck one in the back seat while the other drove us home. I could fuck the other in the garage. They could spend the day in my bedroom filing my holes with their twin semen. They could tell their friends what a hot fuck I was. I could have an endless supply of teen-age boys. Regretfully, I watched them walk by. 

I crept forward to the parking lot entrance and waited for an attractive black couple to cross in front of me. He looked like a football player, over six feet tall and well-muscled. She was a cheerleader with deep ebony skin. Had he ever tried to talk her into a threesome? I was a therapist. I could be pretty convincing. I bet I could talk her into it. I doubted he, on the other hand, would need much coaxing. I could invite them in, drive home. I had never been with a black man before. He looked like he'd be a pretty good start. I bet her pussy tastes sweet.

I made the right hand turn and switched on the dildo. It was so good. I inhaled sharply and let out a long groan. A seeming river of juice flowed from my depraved cunt onto the towel. I tried to direct my attention to my driving. He said it wouldn't be far. I went around the curve. I saw the shed. The flagpole was on the far side. A bunch of guys and gals from the swim team were hanging out there. I loved the bodies on these kids. I wished I was back in high school. Do swim teams have groupies? I could be one, being passed from hard-bodied boy to hard-bodied girl, being fucked constantly. 

I was approaching the flagpole. I had to drive by at a steady speed. I hit the cruise control and looked over. There was Katie and my son. He was facing the road; her back was to me. God, his tongue must be half way down her throat. His hand was inside her shirt attacking one of her fat tits. Her hand was on his cock. Was it inside his pants or outside? I couldn't tell. I was staring, trying to figure it out, when the movement of his head distracted me. He had stopped kissing her; he was looking right at me.

Shit, I was cumming. I made it around the curve and pulled over to the side of the road. I leaned against the steering wheel, my body shaking. As I started to catch my breath and return to reality, I heard a strange buzzing. My cunt's contractions had pushed the fake penis out; it was laying on my seat between my legs. Recalling my son's admonitions, I carefully slipped it back into me, fighting the urge to ream myself out. It felt so good. After collecting my thoughts, I started down the road.

I came twice more before reaching the office. Once, stopped by a truck at a traffic light, I remembered how I had selfishly deprived a truck driver of a view of me masturbating last Friday. I couldn't tell if this driver was watching, but if he was he got a good view as I spread my legs, fully displaying my naked pussy. By the time I got to the office I was ready to cum again and found a quiet spot in the back of the lot. Now free to fuck myself with the toy, I did so, bringing myself to another blinding orgasm. I put the vibrator, still sticky with my mucus, in the glove compartment.

I got out of my car on shaky legs.  I picked up my purse and took out my phone, which had been pinging throughout my final orgasm.

There was a message from my son: "Did you enjoy the show? How many times did you come?"

I typed in: "Very much and four."

He replied: "You're a hot little number. Is the towel good and soaked?"

"Yes."

"Take it to the gym tonight. I want you to clean the equipment and wipe yourself down with a towel enthused with your own sex."

"Yes sir."

I unlocked my office. On the floor was the key and envelope I had left with Theresa the night before. On it Theresa had written, "Well? Call me."

I checked my clock. I had about thirty minutes to my first appointment and would need ten of those to clean myself up and prepare. 

I called. Theresa answered, "Well? I want to hear everything."

"I don't have time for everything. I'll give you the twenty minute summary."

"Do you mind if I put you on speaker. My husband is at work and I have some company in bed."

She did and I heard Miles say, "Morning, Sally."

I started in. After ten minutes Theresa stopped asking questions. After fifteen minutes I heard slurping and the sounds of his low mewls.

"What are you two doing?"

I heard his voice, "I'm listening. Mom's multi-tasking, she's listening and sucking."

Theresa piped in. "You don't expect me to listen to a story that hot, share a bed with Miles, and sit still, do you?"

"I need you guys to stop. I'm having enough trouble focusing lately. The last thing I need to do is hear a blow job ten minutes before a session."

Theresa again. "We'll be good."

I finished my abbreviated recounting, fixed myself up, and had time to review the client's file before the day's first session.

The day flew by. My sexual longing was at least a bit more focused that it had been and my clients seemed infected by my happy mood. I spent two hard hours at the gym, leaving, per my boy's instructions, a bit of my flow on the equipment. I got home, prepared the ingredients for dinner, and bathed. I went to my full length mirror and studied myself. I applied perfume, sprinkling some between my breasts.

What to wear? I was feeling fit and trim and so I decided on something athletic. I put on a pair of tiny blue gym shorts and a white halter whose bottom was an elastic band that fit snugly and immediately below my breasts, accenting my flat stomach. I added a gold chain around my neck. I decided to stay barefoot. I stepped back. I was displaying some cleavage, but both breasts were covered although you could make out their round shape through the halter. My nipples – which were hardening as I studied myself in the mirror – were clearly outlined. I sprinkled a few drops of water on the halter. As expected, it clung to my beasts, the water rendering the fabric all but translucent. I kept my hair on the wild side. I looked at my face. My sexual hunger was evident. Would my son accept me like this?

I was in the kitchen finishing the chicken and white bean salad when I heard a car pull up and my son thanking Jimmy's mom for the ride. A former beauty queen, she had remained an attractive woman. Was Jimmy fucking her? 



I had prepared a pitcher of ice water for my son, who was always dehydrated after swim practice. I walked to the door to greet him, sprinkling some of the water on my breasts. My nipples immediately sprang to attention and the halter adhered itself to my skin. I met him at the door.

"Welcome home." 

My preparation was not in vain. He looked me up and down. "Looking good Mom." We exchanged a sweet kiss. I was ready to bag dinner and drag him to the bedroom, but he said before we could play he had to complete a school assignment. He had some work for me to do, mostly downloading and collating information he had identified earlier that day. He gave me the list. 

I returned to the kitchen, put his dinner on a tray and brought it to his room. I went to my computer, located the requested data, and prepared it for him. While he worked I rubbed his neck and shoulders. After he finished his report he asked me to proof read it. I made a few suggestions, most of which he accepted. He then ordered me to my room. He still had a few things he needed to do.

He entered my bedroom about ten minutes later, wearing only boxer shorts. My reaction was made obvious by my sharp of intake of breath. He was the sexiest thing on god's earth. He lay me on my back and slipped the halter over my head. Then he began to make love to my breasts in a manner so slow and deliberate that I thought he was trying to memorize their every aspect. 

At first he just held them in his hands, becoming acquainted with their size and shape, heft and firmness. He pressed his face into each breast and then into my cleavage, inhaling the perfume. He used his tongue to explore the pliant upper slope of each breast, slowly working his way to the nipples. There, instead of his tongue, he explored each with just his lips, trapping the nipples between his lips and rolling them back and forth. He would then pull back, dragging my nipples away from my chest before letting go and watching my tits jiggle as my nipples bounced back into place. 

My breasts were aching with lust and I craved a full scale assault, but he desisted. Instead, he kissed each nipple and then started to cover both my breasts, top and bottom, front and sides, with kisses. He took an entire areola into his mouth and suckled gently. As he did so, he looked at me, our eyes locking. I smiled and stroked his sweet head.

"When you were a baby I used to love the feel of your mouth on my nipples. It turned me on. It made me feel a bit slutty, being aroused by my son's mouth, but I liked it. Sometimes I would fuck your Dad hard after you were done."

With my free hand I pushed my breasts deeper into his mouth. He turned his attention from my nipples to the bottom of my breasts, licking in long slow paths starting at their sensitive base and ending, with increasing force, at my nipples. I was emitting soft whimpering sounds and my hips were moving up and down, humping the air. He was much more relaxed, in a hurry to go nowhere. He was enjoying the unhurried unfettered access to my breasts, staying calm while whipping me into a sexual frenzy.

He slipped his hand inside my shorts and a finger into my pussy, lifted his head, and asked, "Who are your other lovers?"

It took me a second to realize he had asked me a question. Then I said, "Robert."

"Is sex with him the primary focus of your relationship, or secondary."

"Secondary, if that."

"And whom else."

I hesitated. Everything that had happened between Theresa, Miles, and I was

confidential: a rule central to my profession. I started to stumble over my own words. "Well, I, I'm not sure."

He interrupted me, placing a finger across my lips. "Quiet my pet."

He took the nipple of my left breast in his hand and, with incremental pressure, squeezed. I whimpered, then remembered I was supposed to be quiet, and stopped.

"Twenty-four hours ago you said you wanted to my ever obedient sex-toy. Now, you're already disobeying. What did I tell you on Monday would happen if you were bad again."




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 06



"I would be punished twice as hard."

"Correct."

A tone of panic entered my voice. "I can explain. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"I know you will, but after your punishment. Naughty disobedient sluts need to be punished. Tell me what you are."

He took the nipple of my other breast in his hand. Again, he squeezed, slowly increasing the pressure, giving this one the same treatment he had the other. Instead of whimpering I answered his question over and over again, finding myself aroused by my own words.

"I am a naughty disobedient slut who needs to be punished. I am a naughty disobedient slut who needs to be punished. I am a naughty disobedient slut who needs to be punished. I am a naughty disobedient slut who needs to be punished." 

While I didn't whine the pitiful pained tone of my voice let him know exactly how much it hurt. 

"Now you squeeze, harder than I did."

He was right. I needed to learn to obey. I had led him on. In less than twenty-four hours I had broken my promise of sexual obedience. I needed to understand my new place. If I was going to give him control of my sexuality, I had to accept not only his cock in my cunt, but whatever other conditions he imposed. Was there a better example than inflicting pain on myself, pain I deserved, pain I earned? This was the cunt I wanted to be.

I grabbed each nipple, slowly increasing the pressure and pain. The urge to stop, to free my tits, was strong, but I continued. Tears were in my eyes, but I persisted until I exceeded the pain I felt when my son punished me.

I displayed by breasts to my son. The nipples were inflamed. After inspecting them with his eyes, he touched them. I winced in pain and something else

"What happened?" he asked. 

"When you touched them it hurt, but I also felt a sudden explosion of desire," indicating with me eyes, "down there."

"Well maybe you can learn to be an obedient slut. Get up, go to the corner, and lean against the wall."

I did so. 

"Now your spanking, each cheek, five times. Count with me."

He slapped me with an open hand. He randomly varied which cheek he hit so I could not anticipate where his next blow would land. The slaps were painful and stung, but would only leave me sore for a day or two. There would be no long-term pain or physical damage.  

After I had twice counted to five, I felt some disappointment. Although my booty hurt, each slap had also sent a jolt to my cunt, raising my already precipitous level of excitement. I leaned back, hands still on the wall and bumped his erection. I imagined him throwing me on the bed and giving me the savage fucking I craved.

But he was not through. "Stay there. You can touch your breasts, but no other part of your body. I will return soon with your second punishment."

I looked at my breasts. I could see small bruises starting to form. I touched the bruises. They throbbed, as did the need in my cunt. I had been so naive. I thought I could simply declare myself my son's slut and join him in bed. I had to be shown what a depraved slut I could be: that anything could arouse my slut body, whether a sweet fuck, a spanking, deep throating my son in private, or displaying my bare cunt in public.

I looked at my injured tits. Mommy would kiss them and make them better. I kissed them, ever so gently. There was a tingle between my legs. "That felt good," I said to no one in particular. I carefully kissed and licked my sweet boobs, driving up the pressure between my legs.

"Ooooooh...."

The I heard my son's voice. I did not know how long he had been standing there. I felt like a child who needed to explain herself.

"Mommy was making her titties feel better."

He was holding something. It took a second to figure out what it was. It was the choke chain we had used on Magic, a labrador retriever that had passed away several years before. He waved me over and I approached him until my bruised boobies touched his chest. I knew what he wanted. I bowed my head so he could fit the choke chain around my neck. I dropped to all fours, feeling the spikes biting into me. I could feel the juice running down my legs.  

He headed to the bathroom. I followed him on all fours, barking occasionally. The shower door was set in a metal frame. He opened the door, told me to stand up, and tied the handle of the chain to the top of the frame. He loosened the choke chain from around my neck, so that it no longer bit into my skin. He told me to lean against the shower frame. 

I did so, but even leaning against the wall I was having trouble standing up. My legs were wobbly and I could think of little outside my own arousal. My sex felt like a bowl of Jell-O, any movement, however slight, left it jiggling, sending waves of need through my body. I looked at the mirror and saw the face of lust crazed woman wearing a dog chain. My sex was swollen and wet; my clitoris was peaking outside the folds of my labia. I barely recognized myself.

My son was smearing something in the crack of my ass. He stepped behind me, easily sliding his erection up and down the cleft of my butt. He must have used some kind of lubricant. Meanwhile, his hands assaulted my nipples, twisting and pulling them.

Words poured from my mouth: "Make me your slut, your whore, torture my body, make me hurt, it hurts so good, punish the filthy slut...."

He stepped back, bent me forward, pressed the heel of his hand hard on the area directly above my clit and then, in one long sudden hard motion, slammed his cock into my cunt with enough force to lift me from my feet.

And I came. Sweet mother of god, I came. Howling in joy, I came. I would have tumbled to the floor if he had not held me up.

For the next few minutes, shish-kebabed on his penis, I was able to stand only because his arms were wrapped around my body. Then, strength returning, I was able to stand on my own by again leaning on the shower frame. He pulled out of me and returned to the lubricant, applying it directly to my anus. His finger reached my sphincter. He was not gentle; he brushed aside its resistance with a forceful motion. I shuddered.

"It hurt, Mama?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to stop?" 

Was he asking me or testing me?

"No. Please no. I need to be punished. Please make Mommy hurt. Mommy's cunt likes it when her baby hurts her."

He pushed two, then three, fingers inside me.  No one had ever been in there before. It was tight and the throbbing increased. I found myself both fearing and craving more pain and humiliation. I knew I couldn't be turned into the proper slut without it. I started to push back against his hand.

His fingers left my anus. I looked into the bathroom mirror and saw him applying lubricant to his tool. Again he bent me forward, fitted himself against my anus, and started forward. The pressure was not violent, but it was strong and steady and it ached. My sphincter, inevitably, gave way. He pushed all the way into me in a series of short deliberate motions.

I wailed, but held myself in place. I took short hard breaths to deal with the torment: a technique borrowed from my Lamaze training, classes I had taken to prepare myself for the day the man who was now entering my body had come out. My face was awash in sweat. I could feel my insides quivering as they squeezed down in a fruitless attempt to push the invader out. This is how a stuffed pig must feel. I had never had as much as a finger in my ass, now I had his long hard pole.

After he was fully inside, he held still, allowing time for my rectum to adjust. It still hurt, but I noticed my breathing approaching normal. He picked up on the same signal and started fucking my ass. His thrusts were long, steady, and deep. His hands held me in place. I looked in the mirror and saw the most erotic sight in the world, my gorgeous son and his long hard cock reaming out my ass. I kept staring at the two of us and my cunt reawakened; it's flow soon became copious. He no longer had to hold me in place, as I started to push hard against him when he pushed inside me. I could hear our bodies smacking together. Minutes went by as I started to lose myself in this otherworldly combination of pain and arousal.

"Take me... fuck my ass, fuck mommy's ass you magnificent stud, I love it. Mmm... yesss... YESSS... fuck... oh fuck... FUCK meee. Oh God, fuck my filthy slut ass! Can Mommy play with her cunt? Please let Mommy play with her horny cunt." 

I looked in the mirror. He was also looking at us. He nodded his head yes. I buried a hand in my sex and under the influence of my now expert fingers, my labia swelled and my ruttish needs surged.

We soon reached a perfect rhythm. The room was filled by our moans, each lost in a haze of ever increasing sexual pleasure. I used my fingers to try to catch up with him. I wanted to come at the same time. I looked back in the mirror. There I was, a beautiful, accomplished, successful woman. A woman with advanced degrees, a woman with a sense of style, a leader in the community. Then my eyes wandered back to my son. His eyes were closed; his face contorted in raw, unbridled lust. I was not a beautiful, accomplished, successful woman to him. I was just an asshole pleasing his cock. The hours I spent in the gym perfecting my ass didn't even really matter. It was not important that the ass was good, it only mattered that there was an asshole. I was just an asshole pleasing his cock. An always available asshole. 

I was the slut I wanted to be.

I could see he was almost there. I was on the cusp. When he exploded, when he dumped his seed into my virgin asshole, I knew I would also tumble over the edge.

"Oh fuck yessssss ... I'm cumming ... in your asshole ... nasty slutty Mommy, whore Mommy...." 

His cock exploded and the feeling of his tool twitching inside me, the stream of cum filling my rectum, and his pleasure sent me spinning towards and then over the edge.

"Give my your cum..., ohhhhh...god yessssssssssssssssssssss.....," I screamed.

As he pulled out of me and staggered back, I fell forward. The choke chain bit into my neck. The quick unexpected pain unleashed a series of secondary orgasms. Pain and pleasure simultaneously racked my body, leaving me unable to regain my balance. I was desperately trying to struggle back to my feet, the chain both torturing and pleasuring me, when his strong hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me up.  Tremors rolled through my body, which continued to shake and tremble, tears filled my eyes, my chest heaved and I gasped for breath; I could stand only by leaning on my son's chest. 

"Was I the first one up there?" he asked. 

My head planted against him, I nodded yes. 

He took my head in his hands and pulled me to him. He kissed me. My mouth opened to let his tongue inside. We had to break the kiss several times as I was still struggling to breathe, but after each break he pulled me towards him. I mashed myself to him, my breasts squeezed between our bodies. I greeted his tongue with my own, caressing and fondling it. 

His penis rested on my chest. A good mommy picks up after her boy, doesn't she. 

I took it in my hand. "I'm afraid I've made this dirty. Time for Mommy to clean up." 

I dropped to me knees and took his cock in my mouth. I gave it a thorough tongue bath, making sure to remove both the strong scent of my rectum and the scattered flecks of feces.

As I drew a bath and scrubbed my boy I started the story of Theresa and Miles, explaining my instinctive concern about confidentiality. When I was done I asked him to wait for me in bed. I turned on the shower and while it heated up, checked my backside in the mirror. It was rough and inflamed. A few drops of his semen were still dripping out. I showered, carefully cleaned my bottom and breasts, brushed and flossed my teeth, and ended with a thorough treatment with mouthwash. I joined him in bed. He had prepared two cups of hot tea. We drank the tea and then I completed the story. As I did he and I, with increasing intensity, caressed each other's bodies. By the time I was finished he was rock hard and I dripping wet. We looked at the clock. It was after 2:00 A.M. 

He rolled me onto my back. Gesturing to my body he said, "So without Theresa, I would not have this?"

"I would like to think I would have come to my senses on my own, but I don't know."

"We're going to be tired tomorrow." 

He swung between my legs and entered me. He was now as slow and languid as the ass fuck had been brutal and hard. My son tried an endless variety and combination of motions and speeds, closely monitoring my reactions. I was far greedier, simply absorbing the pleasure he delivered. It was as if I was floating on a country stream, relaxed and without a care in the world, living only for the sensations between my legs. I would come and he would stop for a minute or two, allow me to recover, and then start again. I made no effort to count my orgasms. Awash in sexual joy I lived only for what was happening in the moment. How my son, my lover, was able to postpone his own explosion for so long was and remains beyond me. Finally, spent and exhausted, I knew I could not be carried to the mountain top again. 

I locked my legs around my son's hips and dug my fingers into his back. "Mommy's worn out, it's time for you."

He picked up the pace and within a minute I could see his body tense. He let a low grunt from deep within his solar plexus, a sound I would come to know well, jerked forward, and fired his seed within me. He lowered his spent body to my own and I wrapped my arms around him, both of us fighting for breath while my pussy weakly spasmed around his softening cock. We spent the next several minutes kissing, kisses of love and desire, kisses of affection and devotion. Finally he rolled off of me. I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 A.M. We didn't get a lot of sleep that night, but what we did was deep and peaceful.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 07



We banged on the snooze button the following morning until my son, valiantly, obtained vertical. 

"If we have any hope of getting out of here we better not shower together. I'll take the first, you get the coffee."

I handed him a cup of coffee when he got out of the shower. It felt surprisingly natural to be standing naked in the bathroom with him. When I arrived at the breakfast table, nude except for the towel wrapped around my hair, I found toast and fresh fruit waiting.

He then said the words I longed to hear, "I've decided to take you up on your offer." 

After last night I thought he would, but still my face lit up. "Honey, thank you, thank you, thank you."

"If I am going to be the boss, there will be need to be a few changes. Over the weekend we'll switch bedrooms. Except for moving the heavy furniture, do the work yourself. I will order some furniture from Modern Living," a local furniture store, "pay for it and ensure it is delivered tomorrow. 

"I don't expect you will be spending many nights in your bedroom, so a small day bed should do. Think of it as a boudoir. You can use the guest bedroom as your office. My electronic equipment will go in your office. Move it in, but don't try to set if up. 

"Trim your bush. I like them nice and clean. 

"I will be at Dad's this weekend. I expect all of this to be complete by Sunday afternoon. 

"You may continue to see and have sex with Robert. He brings things to your life I don't. As to Theresa and Miles, it appears I owe 'em. You may have sex with them although, when possible, obtain my permission. You will report to me in detail whenever you guys do." He smiled, "I might learn something.

"Your asshole and throat belong to me. No one else is allowed in. This weekend you are not allowed an orgasm of any kind. I want you steaming hot on Sunday afternoon. I also want you wearing the lingerie you wore Wednesday night."

I nodded my agreement.

"The first thing I will want upon my return is a nice long back rub. Now I gotta get to school. Get the dishes."

He sank his tongue in my mouth, gave my backside a squeeze, and headed out the door.

After cleaning the dishes I fetched the lingerie and filled the sink to let it soak. I stopped briefly in my son's room. This neutral color would need to go. The proper color for my boudoir would be, rose or pink? Running late, I picked out a turtle neck sweater dress to hide the marks the chain left on my neck and 3 3/4 inch open face pumps.

On the way to the office I called Theresa and filled her in on the details. She sounded as excited as I. I also disclosed my breach of confidentiality. She gave me, retroactively, permission. She said she would see if Miles had an objection. Getting permission after the fact would not satisfy the ethics board, but it was the best I could do.

My morning appointments went well. My mind was sharp; it had been awhile since I had been this focused. I found new sympathy for my clients' struggles and an increased openness to new ideas. At lunch I visited Modern Living and paid for my son's furniture. A little flirting got the manager to schedule me for Saturday's last delivery with instructions to the crew to help the nice lady move a few extra things. I visited Sherwin-Williams, choose rose from the fandex, and purchased the necessary paint and supplies. Finally, I stopped at The Massage Place and bought a bottle of it's best lotion. 

With the few minutes I had left I buzzed a friend. She was our town's premier antiques broker and a former client. She credited me with allowing her to reconcile her public role as a matron of fashionable society and doting wife of our mayor with her private devotion to her efficient, lesbian-dominatrix, administrative assistant. 

My new bedroom would be dedicated to preparing myself to satisfy my man. I described the space available and what I wanted. She and I settled on a vanity table with a large mirror and chair, a chaise longue, a full length mirror on wheels, and two small tables to accommodate some appropriately feminine decorations. I would select the decorations and lush sensual paintings for my walls later. Most of the furniture in my home office would be junked. I would keep the desk. The spare bedroom would feature it and two armoires for the alluring clothing I would be buying. While I am forbidden from using my therapeutic relationships to my personal advantage, last night I had accepted that my professional obligations were secondary to my son. Thus, I called in a favor. She agreed to treat the purchase as confidential and to have the furniture delivered the following day.

My afternoon sessions went as well as those in the morning. After two hard hours at the gym, I headed home. Robert called, asking me to an impromptu dinner. I told him I would love to but was devoting myself to painting. He offered to help, but I said this was something I wanted to do it myself.

I moved the furniture away from the wall and started painting. I got the first coat done about 3:00 A.M., turned off the alarm, and crawled into bed. 

I woke up at 9:00 and finished the second coat in three hours. I spent two hours at the gym while it dried and returned home to start the move. The furniture delivery crews were on time. They moved the new furniture in and the larger pieces between the rooms. Then, enjoying the pretty lady in her gym clothes, offered to help me finish. I turned them down, although I let them haul off the furniture we were discarding to Goodwill. 

By the time I started preparing for the evening's dinner party I was ahead of schedule. I picked out a loose fitting green dress with one exposed shoulder. It was classy and said I was attractive, but had no need to flaunt it. Robert was, as always, prompt and the evening wonderful. He brought me home about 11:30. 

We kissed in the car. I found myself getting turned on. I considered bringing him in for an old-fashioned roll in the hay, but had to nix the idea in light of the no orgasm rule and the lack of a ready explanation for the bedroom switch. So, instead, I reached down and fondled him. 

"I know you think it's a bit wayward, but all night I've been thinking about taking you in my mouth. You wouldn't want to disappoint your sweetie, would you?"

I took his lack of response as permission. I unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and started sucking. He gasped and then did something I had not heard from him before, talk to me.

"Feels good, feels nice, oh yes... Keep it up, I gonna come. Yes, yes, ooohhhhhhhhh..."

I swallowed his seed.

He smiled, "That was amazing."

"Maybe this old girl can learn some new tricks."

His hand started to slip under my dress. I had to head that off. "Sorry honey, bad time of the month." His eyes were full of love when he said, "I understand."

He walked me to the door and kissed me goodnight. I had not thought Robert the kind of man who kissed a lady who still had his come in her mouth, but he did. 

I turned on the computer and found a message from Theresa asking me to meet her for breakfast at 8:00 A.M. I responded affirmatively and, too pumped-up to sleep, decided to finish the move. I would be tired on Sunday, but figured after an intense work-out from my boy, I would sleep soundly. I completed the move at 2:00, showered, set the alarm for 7:15, and collapsed.

I arrived at the restaurant wearing fleece pants over my gym shorts and a short sleeve tee-shirt; I intended to hit the gym after breakfast. Theresa, who had pulled in seconds before me, greeted me with a big hug and a kiss, our tongues playing with each other.

As we ate we carried on like giggling giddy school girls, managing, repeatedly, to accidentally brush our hands against each other's butts and breasts, creating ever higher states of sexual excitement. I imagined her attacking Miles when she got home.  

As she paid the bill Theresa inquired what I had left to do.

"I need to make sure the bedroom change is complete. I'd hate to have missed something. Then, trim my bush, put on your chemise, and try to keep my fingers out of my cunt."

"Would you like some help with the trim?"

The idea of Theresa and I naked, shaving my pussy, sent a tremor rumbling through my body. "Damn right I would, but there's no way I'd comply with the no-orgasm rule. Another time?" 

"Any time your available. Let me show you one of the reasons why I selected this place."

Theresa led me out of and to the side of the restaurant. There she showed me a lovely spot, a shaded bench next to a flower garden in full bloom. "It's the owner's little urban oasis. Few people know it's here; you can't see it from the street."

A glance around confirmed her statement. Our lips came together and our hands explored each other's breasts, softly caressing them through our shirts. We made no effort to stifle our moans of pleasure. It took all my will power to remove Theresa's hands from my chest. Nonetheless, as we left the garden holding hands, we took a last opportunity to fondle each other while exchanging a brief kiss.

I put in two hard hours at the gym. I don't know if I was simply more sensitive to the ladies' comments or whether, having just locked lips with Theresa, I was exuding a lesbian sensibility, but the women seemed more raucous than usual. Some of them looked damn good. Theresa was not the only woman to whom I was attracted. Was I, had I always been, bi-sexual? If so, what would my son do with that?

I returned home to ensure the move had been completed. First I went to his room, running my hand across the dark wood of the masculine furniture he had chosen. I took the time to polish it, which accentuated its fresh earthy smell. The bathroom between my office and boudoir was in good shape. The office was good, but there was something not quite right in the boudoir. The vanity! It was nice and neat. A kept woman like me would have a vanity cluttered with make-up and perfume as she experimented with new ways to please her man. I scattered materials from the neatly organized drawers on the vanity table. That looked right.

Now to shower and shave my bush. He had not specified what design he wanted so I decided on a minimal trim. That way I would be able to later mold it to his specifications. I used his shaving cream and razor. It seemed sexier to use his tools on my most private area.

I considered trimming it in the shower, but I was so aroused I was afraid the spray on my sex would bring me off. Therefore, after a thorough and careful cleaning, I turned off the water and sat on the shower floor. 

I had never studied my pussy before; I had not appreciated how pretty it is. I had a strong pronounced veneris mons. My labia was long, narrow, and not to deep. At the moment my clitoris and its hood, distended and swollen with need, peeked out of my labia. As I thought about it, I realized my clitoris never sat deeply in my labia, it was always percolating just below the surface. The opening of my vagina winked open and shut. It, like the rest of my sex, issued a flow of juice advertising my hunger. 

I trimmed the hair of my bush. I then covered it with shaving cream and carved out a large neat rectangle. 

I thought about having it waxed. The idea of a beautiful young woman, a total stranger, studying my most private area added another layer to my arousal. I fought the urge to ram my fibnges into my cunt and bring myself off. It was close to sixty hours since my last orgasm. I needed to be fucked. I needed sex.

After rinsing myself off I walked naked through the house -- I suspected there would be a lot of that in the future -- and sat at my vanity. How did a working girl live without one of these? I applied make-up, painted my toes and fingernails, and fixed my hair. I fluffed up the remaining hair on my pussy and dabbed perfume on myself. Finally, I put on Theresa's chemise. I stood in front of my mirror. My body was almost completely visible. I inspected the full globes of my breasts, my newly clean bush, my svelte athletic body. I was hot.

His car pulled up outside. I ran to the door, waiting for him. He came in, preceded by a dozen red roses, which temporarily derailed my plan to leap into his arms. After he handed them to me I, near tears, thanked him and then jumped into his arms, covering his face with eager kisses. Then all I could think to do was show him all the work I'd done in the house. Grabbing his hand, I practically dragged him to his new room. He praised me and liked my suggestion for an improvement: installing large mirrors on the walls and ceiling. We then went to my rooms. He marveled at the complete transformation. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head to signal his approval.

I squiggled loose, climbed onto a chair, turned to him, raised my chemise, and said, "Last, but we hope not least, my twat." It was at his face level and his eyes focused on it. Did he disapprove? 

"I wasn't sure what shape you wanted so I left enough for you to decide." He blew on my bud, turning my legs into spaghetti and almost causing me to fall off the chair.

"You are incredibly swollen and wet. You obeyed? You haven't had an orgasm since I fucked you Thursday night?"

"No, honey."

"Neither have I. First, however, I want my back rub."

We went to his room. He lay on his stomach. I devoted ten minutes to his back, shoulders, and neck. His muscles, although powerful, were supple and easy to move. I was grateful for all the hours I spent in the gym and my work to strengthen my wrists and hands. I turned to his right arm, returned to his back, and then his left arm. While I did his arms I paid special attention to his hands, rubbing the oil into the palms and sucking each of his fingers into my mouth, making love to them with my lips and tongue.

I moved down to his legs, working from top to bottom and treating his feet as I had his hands, rubbing the oil into their soles and taking the time to lick and suck each toe. I returned to his back before focusing on his butt. Of all his features, this was my favorite. After working the ointment into his hard buns, I nibbled on the edges of his cleft with my teeth before launching a full-scale assault, licking the length of his crevice. I explored the opening of his anus and before repeatedly shoved my tongue into it. I used a lotion covered finger to touch and explore the skin between his scrotum and anus. I then sank the finger inside his butt and found his prostate gland. As I did so I was attentive to his movements and sounds. I wanted to learn exactly how my son responded, exactly how to please him.

I rolled him over, applied lotion to my hand, grabbed the middle of his shaft, and moved my hand, an inch up, an inch down. 

His breathing was deep and slow. "Keep it up Mom, feels good."

He was ready. I applied lotion to the length of his tool and then covered my boobs with it. I leaned forward, capturing his cock between my breasts. He got the message instantly. He started fucking my tits, the head of is cock popping rhythmically out of the top. His cock was long enough so that each time it emerged I swiped it's head with my tongue.

I looked up at my son; he was staring: he watched me firmly press my fat tits together while his dick appeared and disappeared into their ample flesh. The lubricant had done its job, his cock slid as effortlessly as if it was pounding my wet pussy. His chest hairs scratching my aroused nipples. 

My son lodged his left leg against my cunt, allowing me to slide my wet sex against him. I pushed hard; we both knew how desperate I was to cum. The effortless rhythm we had established for the titty-fuck started to break down as we both moved closer to powerful orgasms. I could feel my son's ball tightening as they slid across my stomach. He was ready. His eyes rolled back into his head and he screamed, "AH! I'M... OH GOD YES! YES! YESSSSS!" The head of his cock emerged shining with oil from the valley of my breasts and geysered sixty hours of stored semen, spraying onto my breasts and chin and coating his flat lean chest. The immense load left no doubt that he had been true to his word, he had not come since Thursday night. 

As his body shook underneath mine I pushed my slit hard against his leg, sliding between his knee and ankle. After sixty hours of my own pent up need it was not going to take long. My body was shuddering with the pleasure emanating from my cunt, I felt drops of his semen dripping down my breasts, and imagined what a wanton slut I must appear to be. I could feel the pressure build within me as the muscles of my butt and abdomen tightened.

It was coming, it was coming, and then it came. The pressure in my cunt let loose, flying through my body. I shook violently and fell onto his chest, smearing myself with the jism lying there. I spent the next few minutes savoring the happy glow of our bodies. The first thing I recall as I slowly returned to consciousness was his finger scraping cum off my face and feeding it to me.

"Mmmmmmm....."

"You ready for some more?" he asked.

"Always."

"Straddle my face, facing my feet."

Struggling back up, I placed my knees on either side of his head, resting my hands on his knees. He pushed me forward, centering his mouth on my vagina. He lapped his tongue over the opening of my sex, then tongue fucked me. I settled in, grinding my pussy into his face. He moved on to my slit, licking along its length, his strong hands on my ass guiding my movements. I moved my hands from his knees to the bed, rendering my body more horizontal and easing his access. 

"Oh God baby. Eat my pussy. You eat Mommy so good. You're making Mommy's pussy so hot. That is all Mommy's pussy has been thinking of, waiting for -- her hard cocked son to fuck it and eat it. You eat Mommy so good, baby."

He sucked my clitoris into his mouth. God, it was incredible. I squealed: "AH! OH GOD YES! YES! YESSSSS!" His tongue, focused on my clit, varying its movements from the vertical to the horizontal, fast to slow, hard to soft. Whenever I got close he would capture my clit between his lips, placing gentle pressure on it, delaying my moment of release.

"You are so good baby. Mommy wants to come on your tongue baby, she wants to come on your face. Please make Mommy cum baby, Mommy needs to cum so bad. Please baby, puhlezzee baby."

As he launched a new oral attack on my clitoris, he shoved a finger up my ass and his thumb in my pussy, honing in on my g-spot. I could wait no more: I rocketed over the edge. "I'm cumming! Shitfuck. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh! God! I'm cuuuuummmmmminnnng!" I fell onto his muscular chest, but continued to push my sex against his mouth as he guided me through a series of follow-up orgasms.

When able, I crawled off his chest and lay next to him, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm around me. We both slept. Forty-five minutes later I was awakened by the movement of the bed; he handed me a glass of water. He know exactly what I needed; I drank mine quickly. We fucked for a couple more hours, broke for dinner, and returned to bed for more sex.

* * * * Life was great. My son was a tireless lover, my practice thrived, and even my relationship with Robert improved. He said I seemed happier than ever. I realized that I had, half-consciously, resented him for our inadequate sex life. Free of that, not only was I more upbeat with him, but our sex life improved. I was learning what my body needed. I began to educate Robert. 

Theresa and I talked to or saw each other every day. While Theresa had promised her son sole access to her pussy until he left town, that didn't mean we had the willpower to keep our hands off each other when we were together. We would touch, fondle, and kiss, leaving us both in an intense state of arousal of which our sons were the beneficiaries. In fact, even though her son was leaving for college in a few weeks, Theresa was joyful, which she attributed to our friendship, the endless great sex, and her faith in Miles' still secret plan. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 07



"He still won't tell you?"

"No."

"Then how can you be sure?"

"I don't know. I know he loves and cares about me. I can see the confidence in his eyes and I believe in him. He hasn't steered me wrong yet. He promised to tell you and me at the same time."

Thus at lunch on the Wednesday before the Sunday on which Miles was scheduled to leave, I was ready when Theresa requested an after-hours appointment for Friday. She said they would have two surprises. On the expectation or, at least the hope, that clothes might be shed, I asked for and received my son's approval.

After the staff left on Friday I put a post-it note on the door telling Theresa and Miles to let themselves in, freshened up, and replaced my clothes with her white chemise. They arrived on-time. Miles opening the door for her. Their eyes told me they appreciated my attire. 

He spoke first. "Damn Sally, Mom was right. You look great in that thing."

Theresa pointed at my bush. "I want to see the final product." 

I lifted the chemise to display a simple small rectangle of pubic hair floating above my vagina. 

"Can I touch?"

"Yes."

As she did I licked her ear and nibbled her neck. Our lips then met in a sweet kiss. But for Miles' theatrical throat clearing we might have forgotten he was there.

He looked at Theresa, his voice affecting a whine, and said, "Mommm, you forgot the surprise."

Theresa turned to me. As her finger stroked my nipple she said, "Sally, you remember Miles telling you that I might go for a threesome if we found just the right lady?'

"Yes."

She leaned in, nuzzled one of my ear lobes, and whispered, "I think I found her. Interested?"

"Yes," I whispered back, having heard exactly what I had hoped. Theresa and I, tongues dancing, started kissing each other. 

Her son resumed his throat clearing. When we turned to look, he was sitting on the couch, pants off, erection at full mast. Men can be such piglets. Miles might be impatient, but I intended to take my time.

Theresa was wearing a leather-trim blouse, a skirt whose hem fell to mid-thigh, and classy black pumps. The top button of her blouse was already undone. I unbuttoned the next one, exposing the swell at the top of her breasts. I licked her chest just above her cleavage and, in a series of kisses, worked my way up to her throat. Her head was leaning back. I ran my tongue up to her chin. She dropped her head back down and her mouth came to mine. Our tongues teased each other. 

I stepped behind her and buried my face in her thick heavy hair. It's scent was clean and light. I would have to ask about her shampoo. I pulled her hair aside, kissing, nibbling, and nursing the back of her neck while moving towards an ear. When I reached it I released her hair, which fell freely against my face. I ran my hands down the side of her body and slipped my tongue into her ear, whispering so only she could hear.

"You're an incredibly sexy woman. You've changed my life, awakened me to my own sexuality. There is nothing I can ever do to thank you enough." I pushed my tongue hard against the inside of her ear. "But I will try."

She rocked back against me while offering a purr of satisfaction. "Ahhhhhh."

While my mouth was paying attention to her ear, I pulled her blouse out of the skirt and its thin black belt. I stepped back and slid my hands under the back of her shirt to release the clasp on her bra.

I now returned to face her. Kneeling down, I undid her belt and kissed and explored her belly button with my tongue. Her hands were on the top of my head, helping it in its movements. After several minutes I took her hands in mine and looked into her eyes. 

"Help me up, beautiful."

She did.

"Theresa, please take off your."

She reached under her shirt and slid off her bra, dropping it to the floor. I could see the dark outline of her erect nipples through the shirt. I took a single finger and explored them. Miles heavy breathing let me know the effect we were having on him.

I took her in my arms, pressed my breasts against hers, and gave her a long needy kiss, taking the time to thoroughly explore her mouth. I kissed two small birthmarks on her neck that had long fascinated me and brought delighted squeals from her. I loosened her skirt and then let my fingers skip up the side of her body. Her hands firmly grabbed my butt, pulling it into her crotch. After we broke the kiss she raised my arms and ran her tongue in my armpits. When we separated her skirt fell to the floor.

She was now dressed in only a blouse and as I looked down, oh god, stockings, garters, panties, and heels. I asked her to sit in my chair. I sat before her and ran my hands up her legs. There I easily undid the clasps holding up her stockings and slid the stockings down her legs. When they reached her ankle I took off her shoes and removed the stockings. I kissed the arch of each foot and sucked her big toes. 

After I helped her stand up I kneeled behind her. I took off her panties and garter belt, giving each ass cheek a kiss as I passed by, and stopping to touch, stroke, and lick the inside of her thighs. She kicked the lingerie onto the couch next to her son. Only her blouse remained. I sood behind her and pressed my breasts into her back as I reached around her to undo her blouse's remaining buttons. As I did so I rubbed my sex against her butt; she returned the motion. Her son was staring, mouth open, slowly jacking his cock. Droplets of pre-cum dripped down its side. 

I opened her blouse to expose her chest while nibbling on her neck. My hands covered her breasts. 

Miles, his voice glazed with lust, said, "You two are amazing, this is the sexiest thing I've ever seen." 

I whispered to Theresa, "Boys can be such little piglets. He thinks we're doing this for him."

She bumped her butt against me to let me know she knew exactly what I meant but, nonetheless, I should hush. She swivelled around to face me, keeping her body pressed against mine, pulled the chemise over my head, and asked, "Care to join me?"

We sat on the floor before the couch and each grabbed a handful of her son's meat. I slid my thumb along the underside of his cock, forcing out a drop of pre-cum. I gobbled it down. It was followed by another. When I started to dive for it Theresa said, "Share."

She was right. I tipped his cock towards her. She took its head in her mouth.

After she released it we licked its length, then each attacked the side closest to them, trying to play it like a harmonica. These were moments of sheer joy, sitting naked next to my naked friend, sharing a cock with her, free to fully express myself. Theresa and I kept interrupting our oral ministrations to laugh, kiss, and hold each other.

Theresa finally focused. "Let me show you a new trick I've learned." She began to give her son's testicles the same treatment I had several weeks before. 

My excitement increased as I watched her take his balls into her mouth. I licked my lips and fondled my breasts and the button between my legs. I looked from his cock to his face. He was watching us. Two beautiful women sitting at his feet, one with her face buried in his crotch, the other, her face a mask of lust, waiting her turn to do the same. He might lay a pretty good claim to be a fuck-machine, but he was still a teenage boy. How must it feel to reduce two successful beautiful women into cock hungry sluts? To know neither one of us would ever say no, would ever not be in the mood to fuck him. We were his fuck-toys. I wanted to please this young man. I wanted to bring his dreams to life. 

Theresa had started on the other testicle. I pushed my face close to see if I could do one while she worked on the other, but these were tender things and there was not enough room. It was a no-go. Instead I watched her and finger fucked myself. 

Finally she let the second testicle fall from her mouth. "Your turn."

I took the prime position and grabbed his cock with both hands. Theresa effortlessly slid two fingers into my wet pussy. I held the base of his pole, licking its underside, but thought about Theresa mouthing his tender balls. Could I bring him off while also doing something a wee bit dangerous?

I sucked in some skin at the base of his tool, ending with a little nibble, applying the bite more with my lips than my teeth.

He jumped, "Fuck doc, what was that?'

"I'm not sure, you like?"

"Yeah."

I started up the length of his cock, nibbling oh so carefully. His groans guided me to just the right amount of pressure. I looked in his face, he was staring back and then, momentarily distracted, he looked to the right. My peripheral vision captured Theresa's lovely face, inches from my own, studying what I was doing. At the same time Theresa's thumb, which had been surfing up and down my labia, started to massage my clitoris.

Miles was expressing his pleasure. "Unnnnnnghhhhh, ugh ugh unnnghhh."

Theresa's actions were also making it hard for me to concentrate. Then she started talking to me. 

"You're a magnificent cock sucker. Suck his cock, make him come. You're natural born, you were born to please a man with your mouth. I bet you could live on cum. You're a natural slut, a cock-sucking slut, a cum-drinking slut. Sally, suck my boy's cock, suck the cum out of him."

Her thumb was pressing directly on my clit, her words rebounding in my skull. I wanted to finish what I was doing but my body, it's primal heat climbing, was betraying me. Theresa wouldn't stop.

"Cock sucker, cum drinker, cock lover...."

It was too much. My orgasm crashed into me. I released his cock and shaking, slumped to the floor. I heard Miles beg his mother to put it in her mouth. By the time I was able to focus my vision, Theresa's head was bobbing up and down on his tool. She was going to get the load of cum I wanted. Miles suddenly jerked and Theresa's cheeks bulged.

"Fuck, I'm cumming. Drink it all Mom." 

He shot into her mouth.

While he sank back into the couch, Theresa turned to me, her mouth barely open. Except for a small drop that spilled out and onto her breast, she was holding his hot heavy creamy cum in her mouth. I remembered her earlier command, share.

I leaned forward and slipped my tongue into her mouth. It met hers and together we pushed his cum into my mouth. I took a second to enjoy its taste and then ladled it back to her. Our tongues slid against each other, then explored each other's lips and teeth. We soon lost track of who had his seed and became increasingly consumed by our own passion and lust. Theresa's moans were keeping pace with my own.

Theresa was the first woman I had ever kissed or, more accurately, the first I had ever kissed this way. I loved the sweet softness of her lips, their knowing responsiveness to my own. She wasn't like a man, who tried to bludgeon a woman into arousal with the power of his kiss. Theresa, instead, drew me in, knowing exactly when to yield, when to give way. She was tender, yet wanting. I was new to lesbian love, but Theresa did not leave me feeling timid or clumsy. I wondered, if her tongue was this sensitive in my mouth, what could it do in other places?

She was sitting up, leaning forward, legs spread before her. I moved forward, straddling one of her legs, while leaning slightly back, supporting myself with my hands. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and pulled me closer. Our breasts were soon touching and we began swaying back and forth, enjoying the friction between our breasts and of my sex on her thigh. We continued kissing. The scent of our overheated pussies filled the room.

I became the aggressor. I grabbed her chin and angled her head so I could give her an especially deep kiss. At the same time I moved forward, pushing her to the floor. I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, then the other. Her breasts were firm, yet soft. I took her nipples between my lips, pulled them up, and stimulated them with my tongue. Theresa let out a long groan. I ran my tongue hard around the crests of her perfect bosoms; her sounds ranging from horny contentment to a more guttural need. I alternated breasts. Theresa's sensual moans filled the room. I was reducing her to a feral core, whose only thought was the powerful sensations whipping through her body.

I released her breasts, moving down her body, exploring her silky stomach with my mouth, kissing her softly and sweetly, taking the tight skin of her abdomen between my lips. As I did so I made sure to drag my tits across her body. Their hard tips let her know I was as aroused as she.

Theresa understood my ultimate goal. She spread her legs, waiting for me. I thought of the first time I saw her sex. Then I had been allowed only the briefest of tastes. There would be no limits now. She was already swollen and dripping wet. I took a second to enjoy the view. Her labia was soaked, glowing with need. The musky small was intoxicating. Theresa reached down and spread her womanhood with her hands and I buried my nose in her, immersing myself in her scent.

Pulling back, I licked my lips, ready to confirm my new sexuality. I was going to eat my first cunt. I was nervous; I had never done this before. I lowered my head and tickled her clit with my tongue. Theresa's response gave me all the encouragement I needed.

"Ohh, baby yes. You are so sexy. Eat my pussy, sweet baby, eat my pussy."

Her beautiful clitoris stood at attention, it seemed as excited to see me as I it. Theresa moaned as I started playing with it. I imagined how I would want someone to eat my pussy. I used my tongue, my lips, and some suction. I trapped her clit against my teeth, using them as a back stop as I stroked her with my tongue. Theresa had been revved up before I started and I quickly teased her into a wild frenzy. Theresa babbled and gasped, her body reflexively tightening and relaxing. I left her clit to give her a strong tongue fuck. Theresa was panting, "Fuck me, that feels so fucking good." 

I asked the obvious question: "You like?"

Theresa, struggling to catch her breath, answered with a half audible, "Yes."

"Do you want to cum on my face?" "Yes, please make me cum. I can't wait."

I lowered my mouth to her pussy and fucked her wildly with my tongue. I was nearing the point where it would need a rest when I felt a hand on my butt. I had almost forgotten about Miles. Then a well-lubricated finger sank into my ass, moving in a tight clockwise circle. Theresa and I had discussed my new found fondness for anal sex and I suspected that she, like I, told her son most everything about the other's sex life.

My tongue needed a rest. I returned to Theresa's clitoris, sliding it back and forth between my lips. Theresa was stroking my hair, encouraging me. Miles inserted another finger in my ass and started moving them in and out. The sounds of my muffled, "Mmpf, mmpf, mmpfs," joined Theresa's panting and moans.

Then I felt his cock pushing against my sphincter. I lifted my head. "No, only my son gets me there." At the same time I tilted my backside upwards, offering him my cunt. He fitted the head of his cock there and entered my oozy wetness in a series of small incremental movements, each pushing deeper into me until his balls swung against my labia. "Ohhhhhhh, yesssss," I purred. I returned to Theresa's delightful sex.

His initial motions were in time with my mouth sliding over Theresa's mound. He did not want to interfere with what I was doing to his mother. My tongue, fully recovered, was slathering her clitoris. She grabbed my head hard, pulling it into her. She wanted nothing to interfere with the orgasm boiling within her. The room was full of the noise of our sex, my slurping, the sound of Miles' body banging against mine as we fucked, and the low moans of three people absorbed in the pleasure of their own bodies.

Suddenly, Theresa's grip tightened and she pushed her cunt into my face. She was ready to come.

Without taking my mouth from her cunt, l looked up. Her eyes were open, taking in the tableau of lust displayed before whild her tongue played against her full lips. I heard Miles' voice behind me. "This is so hot. Come for us Mom, come on Sally's mouth."

Theresa didn't disappoint. "Ohhhahhhhh. Ohhhh, ohhhhh, ahhh, ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhh goddddd, ohhhhhhh, CUMMING!" 

Her body jerked wildly on the floor before finally slowing down to a series of leisurely undulations. I tried, unsuccessfully, to capture all of the juice flowing out of her. 

I pulled my mouth from Theresa's pussy and got on all fours, better to push back as Miles fucked me. Miles immediately understood my intentions and picked up the pace. He thrust harder, but no harder than I drove back against him. I wanted his cum. While I doubted he needed much encouragement, I provided it anyway. 

"Fuck me stud, fuck my hot pussy, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

At first I was only dimly aware of something snaking underneath me. I opened my eyes and, after taking a second to focus, recognized Theresa's perfect form. As she wriggled under me, I felt my nipples drag across her body. I spread my arms and lifted myself to ease her journey. Her head was under my vagina. Her tongue swiped across my swollen bud.

"Oh god, oh god."

She started licking me hard, focusing on the clitoris, which was trapped between her tongue and her son's rampaging cock. At the same time she slid a finger inside his son's anus and cupped his extraordinary testicles.

I had never imagined such sensations. I was awash in pleasure, conscious only of the intense stimulation Theresa and Miles were bringing me. I couldn't see or hear. I existed in a void where the only thing that mattered were the animalistic sensations buffeting my body. I savored my submission into complete sexual ecstacy. 

Then I was brought back to reality when I heard Miles deep voice. "Cumming doc, cumming in you cunt, uhhhh...."

I started jabbering in response, ""FUCK! OH FUCK! YEAH! YES! YES! OH FUCK!" Then, as his shot of seed filled my cunt, my world exploded. I screamed, "OH FUCK." 

I couldn't hold my self up any longer and collapsed on top of Theresa. After her son pulled out, she feasted on the mixture of his cum and my juice leaking from inside me, bringing me to several smaller follow-up orgasms. I ended up on the floor, lying next to her, holding her hand. Miles was sitting near us, leaning against the couch. 

We took about fifteen minutes to catch our collective breath. Miles brought each of us a bottled water and said it was time for the second announcement: how Theresa would be taken care of after he left for school. First, however, he had to visit the facilities.

"Trying to build the tension?" I asked.

"Cheap theatrics, but they're the only ones I have."

After he left Theresa and I pulled ourselves up to a sitting position. I draped my leg across hers and asked, "What do you think it is? Does he have half a dozen discreet stud friends?"

"I have a pretty good idea, but let's not steal his thunder. He is very proud of himself."

He arrived back to witness Theresa and I exchanging long languid kisses, our hands caressing the other's breasts. He cleared his throat, his go-to way of getting our attention.

"Well?" I asked.

"I want you and your son to take care of Mama. If that is okay with you Mom?"

Her warm winning smile made it unnecessary to answer. She did anyway. "It is exactly what I hoped to hear. If that's okay with you Sally?"

Before she completed the sentence I was hugging her and laughing. 

"Its more than okay, it's a dream." I stood up and wrapped my arms around his torso. "I will take very good care of her and you may borrow her whenever you want. I do need to ask my son, but," I looked at Theresa, "I don't imagine he'll turn that down."

I had thought myself fucked out, but found I was ready for more. My companions put up no resistance. Soon I was on my back, Theresa's face buried in my cunt, her son behind her reaming that perfect rump. 



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 08



First, thank you for your response to this story. I've appreciated all the people who have read it, voted on it, and commented, both positive and negative, on it. I fully expect future stories will be improved by some of the suggestions, criticims, and observations of the readers. Other authors on this web-site have indicated how much reader response means to them and I, after being a reader for some years and now a novice writer, second their feelings. Writing this has caused me to become far more active in responding to other writers' stories. I urge all readers to do so.

This was intended as the final installment of The Therapist's Journey. However, some readers have suggested turns the story could have taken. I have tried to leave The Therapist's Journey open for further iterations. I have an idea on how to incorporate some readers' suggestions in an additional chapter and, assuming that I can muster the skill to write it, I hope to post it some time in the future. If anyone has in mind his or her own variation on the story, please let me know.

Again, thank you for all for your interest.

* * * *

While dressing we made plans for the weekend. Miles and his father were leaving for Stanford on Sunday morning. Because he would be taking several days off from work, he planned to work late Friday and all day Saturday. Theresa and Miles were near bouncing in excitement at the anticipated thirty-six hours of bacchanalia excess. My son and I would come over on Sunday after Miles and his father left.

On the way home I checked my phone. My son had sent a text indicating he had company. In the past he could have a girl over only when I was home. While under the new rules he could have over whomever he wanted whenever he wanted, this posed a problem. His bedroom, especially with the large mirrors we had installed, was manifestly a fuck-den. My bedroom was clearly a place to pamper oneself on the way to a fuck-den. No guest in either room would have any trouble figuring out what was going on in our house. Thus, while he now could have anyone over, the bedrooms were off limits. I bought new sets of living room and den furniture which were appropriately designed for, among other things, well, fucking. My son and I had arranged the furniture so it could be viewed from jet black hiding places in adjoining rooms. From there I had spent many happy hours over the last few weeks watching him screw Katie. 

I parked my car around the corner, entered through the backdoor, and crept toward the living room.

Katie was on her back, pushing her heavy tits together. My son straddled her, his cock deep in her cleavage as he administered a spirited titty-fuck. After his cock bumped her chin a few times he grabbed her brown hair, pulling her head into the air. There she tried to lick the head of his cock as it raced towards her face. She wasn't bad, succeeding more often than not. Because I was out of Katie's sight line I stood up to let my son know I was there.

He decided to put on a show. 

"God, Katie, I love your fat tits, they feel great on my cock. Gonna cum soon, gonna cum."

I couldn't stand it any more and found my pulsating clit with my fingers. 

My son pulled his tool from her tits. "Jerk me off." 

Katie took hold of his pick and furiously fisted his cock. "You wanna cum on my face; please cum on my face," she whined. I could see the skin of his member being played like an accordion, stretching as her fist reached the top of his tool and folding up as her hand headed for his balls.

He was close, so close, and then, "Oh my god...yes..., AHHHHHHH." He sprayed a load on her face. Cum dripped from her chin and nose and a big gob sat by the corner of her mouth until her tongue swept out and gathered it up.

God, I was turned on. I backed out of the room and headed for the pool deck. Once there I decided to take my time and enjoy one of those nice long slow masturbations, savoring what I could do to myself instead of rushing to an orgasm. When I came it was not a crashing wave, but a pleasant series of gentle strong ripples.

After recovering I re-entered the house and heard her high yelps and his low grunt. I had just missed another set of climaxes. I peeked in the room. She was leaning over the couch cushion, breathing heavily, juice and cum running down her legs. My son was pulling out, having taken her doggie style. I waited near the bathroom. He appeared moments later.

"Enjoy the show?"

"Saw you come on her face. Missed the fuck."

"Clean me off."

I licked Katie's juice off his cock. It had become one of our favorite games. After I watched them fuck he would find an excuse to disappear for a few seconds so I could taste her. 

I retreated to his bedroom and heard him rustle up some snacks. They watched television for about thirty minutes before he drove her home. When he returned we showered together and got into bed for his massage. I worked his powerful shoulders and neck with my hands while describing my evening. I knew my touch was having its intended affect as his moans became more and more sexual. I also became aware of the heavy scent of my own excited pussy. I finished with the offer of Theresa as our lover. 

"So, are you free Sunday?" I asked as I took his cock in my mouth, settling my dripping sex over his face.

"Nothing I can't cancel."

* * * *

At noon Theresa greeted us at the door. She was wearing a tiny bikini, the top presenting two triangles that barely covered her deep brown areolas. The bottoms were similarly two small triangles connected by a string. A few pubic hairs stuck out the sides. She was not playing hard to get.

My son and I followed her down the hall, both sets of eyes locked on her butt. There aren't many woman in the second half of their thirties who could have gotten away with this kind of swim wear.

Her home was gorgeous. She accepted our compliments graciously. 

"Its one of the advantages of being married to a builder. It's part of their image. They can't live in a hovel." 

She led us out to the pool, which featured a Jacuzzi, hot tub, and built-in grill. I took off my shirt and shorts, revealing an almost equally tiny bikini. My son pulled off his tee shirt and shorts, leaving him in sexy tight swim trunks. Underneath a light blue cloudless sky Theresa prepared one of her favorite meals: Cuban flank steak and grilled zucchini Greek salad. After eating we stripped and sat in the Jacuzzi, sharing a bottle of wine and easing into the moment. The conversation flowed freely until two woman, after a knowing glance, decided there was a penis in the tub that required their attention. Our hands quickly brought it to full staff and the three of us headed upstairs for a mid-afternoon fuck. 

After he took turns pumping his cum into our cunts, Theresa and I entertained him, and each other, with our first 69 lesbian munch-fest. That got him nice and hard again, so Theresa and I took turns sucking his cock. I, exercising a mother's right of first refusal, claimed the mouthful of cum. I happily shared it with Theresa. 

Needless to say, my son gave his nod of approval. He and I would take over as Theresa's lovers. He did express his preference for a clean bush.

"Yes, sir," replied Theresa, her voice slightly worn by our recent activities, "I am under instruction to give you my full cooperation."

The three of us drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

I woke to Theresa's tongue in my ear. "Let's go shave my pussy. We'll surprise him when he wakes up."

We slipped off the bed and headed for the bathroom. After we closed the door I told her, "There is no need to do this. He's decided mine should be totally bald. I made an appointment to get it waxed tomorrow. I figured there's no way he'd turn down you as a fuck partner and knowing his preferences, I made an appointment for you also."

"That's fine, but here's an opportunity to let him know the kind of eager to please horny bunnies he has in his life. Can we let that pass? Plus, I really want you to shave me. The thought of it makes me so fucking hot."

That was an offer I couldn't refuse.

While the tub was filling with water she fished some manicuring scissors from a drawer and sat on the bathroom counter.

"Trim away."

I pulled up a short stool and sat down, staring squarely into her sex. She was telling the truth about being turned on. Her labia was swollen and the light in the bathroom reflected off the moisture seeping from her. I knew my acceptance of my own sexual nature would have been impossible without this beautiful woman. I looked forward to continuing the journey with her.

After I carefully trimmed her we got into her king-sized tub and took a warm bath together. Our pubic hairs throughly softened, we drained the tub until only a few inches of water remained. I applied shaving gel to a portion of her pubic hair, pulled the near-by skin taut, and with a brand new razor shaved her. When that area was done we cleaned her with the water in the tub and started anew. After I finished her, she asked if she could do me. 

Who was I to say no?

By the end of this process we were both ready for inspection, and a good fuck. My son was still asleep, but we figured he wouldn't be too upset if we woke him in exactly the right way. We were right. Upon opening his eyes to see two women licking his hardening cock his first words were a very positive, "Oh yeahhh..." We showed him our bald pubes and returned to his rod. After we had worked it back to full stiffness, Theresa straddled his hips and took him inside her. I sat on my son's face, facing Theresa, and lowered my naked pussy to his mouth. Theresa and I kissed each other's mouths and fondled each other's breasts while riding my boy's tongue and cock. 

I came first. After catching my breath, I lay my head on my son's stomach. I didn't need to say anything; they understood my intentions. They slowed down the pace of their fucking. When Theresa rose, I kicked my son's shaft. When she lowered herself, I licked her clit. At the same time I reached around her hips and cosseted his testicles. 

The combined effect of my boy's hard cock, Theresa's sweet pussy, and my supple tongue were having their intended effect. My son was gasping in delight. Theresa's flow was increasing and her head rolled back. Her hands kneaded her tits. I didn't need her encouragement, but got in anyway. "Feels great baby, god I love it, lick my clittie baby, make it feel so good."

I felt the muscles of my son's solar plexus tighten and his balls contract. He was on the edge. When I gave his balls an extra squeeze he jerked hard, spewing his cum inside Theresa while exclaiming in an ecstatic voice, "So good, so fucking good. Ohhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhh! Coming ladies!"

As he was coming I sucked Theresa's clitoris into my mouth. Theresa was right there, a step behind him. "UMMMMM OH YEAH! YOU'RE SO BIG AND LONG! FUCK I LOVE YOUR COCK! LOVE YOUR MOUTH! UMMMM! OH! I LOVE IT ALL! FUCK ME!" 

Her entire body started shaking, her words turned into incoherent babble, and she fell forward to his chest. I was just able to get out of the way.

The three of us cuddled on the bed. Occasionally I would dip a finger in her, draw out the combination of her juice and his cum, and take a taste. This was going to work out quite well.

* * * *

My son's senior year in high school was a glorious time. He and Theresa had constant access to my body. When in town, Miles had the same. Miles also lived out his remaining fantasy, sharing his mother with another man, my son. Theresa and I were pleased when our boys became what she and I had become, best friends. My sex life with Robert even became more then satisfactory. I and my lovers had more than our share of other sexual adventures. I may write about those later.

There was one tragedy. During the spring it was discovered that one of Coliseum's employees had embezzled more than a million dollars to cover gambling debts, including the money intended to pay the insurance to cover his theft. Six days later one of Coliseum's major projects began sinking into the ground. I may not have seemed sympathetic to Theresa's husband in these pages, it's hard for me to understand how anyone could prefer a job to Theresa, but over the next months I learned about his drive and passion. He never panicked and never wallowed in self-pity. Instead, he fought heroically to save the company he loved. He practically lived at the office. In the end his over-worked over-weight body could not take the stress and in late July he suffered a massive heart attack. Miles, who was working for a San Francisco mergers and acquisition firm, returned home to help with his Dad. Theresa and Miles spent hours with him at the hospital and then caring for him upon his return home, but much of the fight had left him with the failure of the company he loved.

However, hospital visiting hours being limited and the patient requiring extended, often drug-induced, sleep upon his return home, Theresa and Miles had hours of free time. Much of it was spent naked with my son and I. After one of these sessions the four of us were resting. The boys were sitting with their backs to the wall. I was leaning against the bed frame. Theresa was laying on the floor, her head on my thigh while I toyed with her thick black hair. Theresa and I were telling the boys how happy we were that my son had been awarded a swimming scholarship to the University of California at Berkeley, which meant both our boys would be attending college near San Francisco.

Then, abruptly it seemed to me, my son became serious. "Mom, it will be a year ago tomorrow you asked me to take over your sex life. I'll be leaving in two weeks. How will it be for you?"

This was a question I had spent hours mulling over. Was I under control? Would I revert to the border-line out-of-control crazed sex-fiend I had been approaching a year ago? I took Theresa's hand in mine.

A year ago I was on the verge of fucking anything that moved. Now, while I was still open to most anything, I seemed to have it under control. I could find no single thing to credit for this change although, I figured, regular sex with the three people in this room would calm most anyone down. My son had used discipline early in our relationship, but its frequency had decreased and it had become mostly play. For the past year his need to be sexually dominant had been addressed by developments on the Katie front.

Thanks to Theresa and I, my son was well aware that adults were both sexually interested in teenagers and could be a lot of fun in the sack. Katie's Mom had always been a flirt. She was, despite being thirty pounds overweight, attractive, and featured long wavy brown hair and a truly spectacular pair of tits. Within a few weeks of his first threesome with Theresa and I, he had Katie and her Mom in bed. Katie's Mom was, like her daughter, a submissive by nature and he painstakingly drew out that part of their personalities. He put them both on a diet and exercise program and within a few months had himself two hard-bodied big titted sex-toys. He required Katie's Mom to have surgery to firm up her boobs; no forty year old woman with breasts that big could avoid a sag. His problem was what to do with them when he left for college. He didn't want to take them into his new life.

His charmed life intervened. A Hollywood scout was evaluating our town for a movie shoot. Requiring his daily massage, he visited Katie's Mom. He had years of experience with submissive women, his one true passion, and quickly has his masseuse diagnosed. Within a fortnight Katie and her Mom had packed up and moved to Los Angeles, where she filed for divorce. Katie and my son still chat; Katie happily reports that she and her mom are prime entertainment at Hollywood's most exclusive sex parties.

I drifted back to the question my son had posed. "I'm not sure son. I hate that you're leaving, but I understand you need to build your own life, although I hope that thing," I gestured at his penis, " will always be available. I feel confident I'll be okay, but I'm not sure why."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

I was feeling uncomfortable. Theresa, sensing my anxiety, sat up and put her arm around my shoulder. I took solace in her arms.

"It all seemed so obvious I couldn't figure out why no one else got it. I ran it by Miles, who's known it for a year. He said you'd eventually get it, but I'm not as patient as he is. You always told me that love was the most powerful emotion. The reason you're so comfortable is that you've found the love of your life, the person you want to grow old with."

I looked at the boys in confusion. We had all decided that they would move on with their lives, fall in love, marry, have children. We never wanted to give up our, well, special relationship, but the boys would not, or fact, become our spouses. They were not the loves of my life, not the ones I would grow old with, that person was, and it was suddenly clear to me, Theresa. When had I fallen in love with her? When had I not been in love with her?

I turned to her. The look on her face told me she knew. We kissed gently and, our foreheads touching, I told her, my voice soft, "I love you T."

She ran her hand down the side of my face. "Sally, I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you."

I heard Miles. "We should leave these two alone."

They tended to Theresa's husband for several hours. Upon their return, they reported that they found Theresa and I asleep in each other's arms. Our faces featured blissful smiles and shined with the other's pussy juice.

No one was surprised when Theresa asked her best friend and former therapist to move-in after the death of her husband several months later. The large comfortable house was too big for a single person. After an appropriate delay I asked Robert to set Theresa up with John, his best friend. John was as kind, gentle, and distinguished as Robert. Theresa and John made a wonderful pair and what he lacked in sexual stamina, Theresa could find in me

* * * *

Our hearts always belonged our boys. We flew to San Francisco regularly and were available 24/7 when they were in town. The four of us would spend a week or two each year in a locale – we had recently visited Tahiti – where we could be in public what we were in private, lovers. Theresa was named her firm's managing partner. My practice boomed.

Our boys shared an apartment. While Theresa and I couldn't deny a bit of jealously when we heard about the latest girlfriend, it was for the best and we had each other. However, when we heard the excitement in their voices after they met Lucy and Chen, we knew they'd found something special. The girls, who had been friends since high school in Hawaii, were brilliant. Lucy, whom my son was seeing, was soon to receive her PhD from Stanford in Computer Science while Chen, Miles' lady, was pursuing her doctorate in Biochemistry from Berkeley. The ladies were twenty-nine, older than our boys, but they were used to that. Theresa and I had our prejudices exposed when we first saw pictures of the girls. Instead of the stereotype of the nerdy Asian girl-scientist we expected, they were trim athletic beauties. 

Theresa and I went to San Francisco for Thanksgiving of my son's junior and Miles' senior year. Lucy and Chen were going to join us and the boys for Thanksgiving dinner and, we were told, a serious conversation. We had a pretty good idea what that was going to be about. There were two questions to which we did not know the answer: whether the ladies knew about our special relationship with our boys and, if so, how they felt about it. 

The boys picked us up at the airport. Their orderly clean apartment, as well as the make-up in the bathroom, made it plain the girls spent a lot of time there. Dinner was at a private room at a restaurant overlooking San Francisco Bay. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 08



Lucy and Chen were waiting at the restaurant. They greeted us with warmth and enthusiasm. The wait staff was instructed to bring several bottles of champagne and give us an hour of privacy.

The boys stood up. "Moms, we have an announcement, but suspect you've already figured it out. These lovely ladies have agreed to marry us." 

The four of them told us their wedding plans: a small outdoor double wedding in Hawaii over next year's Christmas holidays. 

Theresa and I toasted the boys and their ladies.

Lucy then stood. "I would like to offer a toast in honor of Theresa and Sally and thank them for raising two such wonderful young men."

She was joined by Chen. "We also need to thank you for giving them a taste for older women and helping them perfect their impressive skills between the sheets," she suppressed a grin, "and lots of other places."

Well, they knew.

Lucy continued, "Theresa and Sally, we want you to stay in their lives as lovers. In fact, we made it a condition: we'll refuse to marry them unless you all promise to continue the beautiful thing you've made. We think it's wonderful."

Theresa, beaming, replied, "Well, I'm confident I speak for both of us. We accept."

I had picked up a champagne glass to salute the moment when I felt two hands slipping under my dress. One from Lucy to the left, the other from my son to the right. I looked across the table at Theresa. Her face confirmed she was getting the same treatment. I spread my legs wide, welcoming the invasion and felt my nipples stiffen and cunt moisten. With her free hand Lucy turned my head towards her. There was a twinkle in her light brown eyes.

"Am I welcome to the family?"

"Oh goddd, yes," I responded as I felt a finger work around my panties and push into my cunt. 

"Am I welcome with a kiss?"

"Ohhhhh...," was all I could come up with, but Lucy took my open mouth as an invitation. Her tongue found and teased mine. As someone's thumb stroked my clitoris, I sucked her tongue deeper into my mouth. I reached for her breast and found it firm, braless, and warm. I pushed myself against the hands attacking me. When Lucy pulled her head away I felt my son turn my head towards him and we exchanged a deep soulful kiss.

Lucy was talking to me. "The boys told us how beautiful you two are, what wonderful lovers you are, what amazing sex machines you are, loving to fuck and suck, ready for anything, anytime. I can feel how wet and tight your pussy is, I can't wait to join your family. Will you fuck and suck with me, let me eat your pussy, let me suck and lick those sweet tits?"

My son continued to kiss me. His lips and tongue, her words, and their hands had me racing towards a peak. I pulled away from my son and leaned back against the chair, using it as leverage to push harder against the hands stoking the furnace between my legs. I heard Lucy's voice again, "Play with your tits." I cupped them both. A combination of that stimulation and the moment powered me to the finish line. My body shuddered, and then stiffened in climax. Afraid of how the patrons of this top-of-the-line restaurant might react to a woman's howl of orgasmic joy, I buried my mouth in my forearm to stifle my scream, letting out only a "Mpfff...," while my body shook in pleasure. I slumped over the table, fighting to catch my breath. 

After a short respite, I looked at Theresa. Her flushed face showed she had received the same treatment as I.

The waiter appeared about ten minutes later, which gave Theresa and I time to shake the cobwebs out of our heads. The meal was wonderful. After we ate we invited the girls to join us at the boy's apartment for dessert, but they begged off. They had major research papers due the following week. They would have to let us take care of the boys that weekend.

That we did. On Sunday morning we capped three straight days of sex with a solid screwing of the other's son. We were lying in their arms when Miles started.

"We have another big announcement."

Theresa responded, "It will be hard to top what we've already heard. Go ahead."

My son lept in, "We'll be coming home for Christmas, but on a restricted diet. We only get to fuck our own mamas."

I fiddled with Miles' flaccid thing. "I'll miss this, but you'll get no argument from me."

"You two are going off birth control. Tell your boyfriends that you're concerned about the health effects now that you're reaching your forties. Buy a box of condoms, punch enough holes in them to guarantee failure, pack your vaginas with spermicide, have sex with John and Robert, and then discover the problem with the condoms. The two of you bought them together. Everyone will assume it was a bad box."

"Because....," Theresa responded, her smile indicating she had a pretty good idea where this was going.

"Because when you turn up pregnant you can't very well acknowledge we're the fathers. I mean, assuming it's all okay with you two."

Theresa and I had often talked about how much we wanted to carry our sons' babies. I crawled on top of Miles, kissing his face. Theresa did the same with my boy. Then we switched, giving our own sons the same treatment.

* * * *

On the way to the airport I asked how Lucy and Chen felt about it.

"Actuallly, we can't take credit. It was their idea. After we gave them a history of our special relationship with our moms, they asked us if we had ever discussed having children with you. We told them no."

Miles took over. "At that point they basically called us a couple of hopeless dunderheads. They said only a male would not have realized that the two of you wanted to have our children, but you were probably reluctant to ask for fear of threatening our autonomy. They also pointed out that if there were ever two woman able to raise children on their own, it was the women we had described."

I responded. "Theresa and I have spent hours talking about it. We knew that if you knew how much we wanted it, you'd never say no. On the other hand, we didn't know how you two could build independent lives while being responsible fathers. We decided not to pursue it. I can't begin to describe how happy you've made us. Thank Lucy and Chen for us until we can do so ourselves." 

When we had those sexy ladies in our bed we would give them our own special thanks.

There were some titters in our community when John and Robert's young girlfriends turned up pregnant. John and Robert assured us that there far more congratulatory private backslaps from their male friends. Those who thought it was a plot to get them to marry us fell silent when word spread we had turned down their marriage proposals; we were perfectly happy the way we were.

Theresa and my shared pregnancies were an incredibly erotic time. Both of our already powerful sex drives seemed ramped up. I found her full voluptuous body irresistible. Our love making seemed endless. When not making love, we would sit with each other, reading, watching films, or floating in the pool, naked, our swollen bodies always touching. John and Robert were unceasingly supportive and the oldest gentlemen in our Lamaze class. When the two boys were born neither of our sons objected to our naming them John and Robert to honor these wonderful gentlemen. 

John and Robert accompanied us and the newborns to our sons' double-wedding. In light of the strong bond we had developed with our new daughters, no one was surprised when they invited Theresa and I back to their hotel after the ceremony for several private hours before they left on their honeymoons. That was a heck of an orgy. 

John and Robert were wonderful fathers. The two young boys exhibited both the gentle strength of these men and the more exuberant vitality of their biological fathers. When our sons moved back to our community several years later with families in tow, they became second fathers to our new children. Neither John nor Robert showed any disapproval when the children started calling our older sons "Dad." Knowing they might not live long enough to raise the boys, John and Robert were happy to see their namesakes involved with more traditional families, and, after all, no one ever went to a shrink complaining too many people loved them when they were growing up.

Our connection with our daughters deepened. At least one day each month was a girls night out. After dinner, which we took turns preparing, we devoted the evening to Sapphic love. We learned that Lucy and Chen met when high school seniors at a Hawaiian state science convention. They were both horny and after surveying the available talent, decided the other was the hottest thing in the room. Our sons were the first men for whom they considered giving up each other. They were overjoyed when they found out our sons couldn't think of a single reason they should. 

Our scientist daughters also had a far more mechanical bent than we did. Theresa and I were happily introduced to their spectacular array of sex toys.

Robert and John eventually passed away. They made generous allotments for their children while leaving the bulk of their considerable wealth to the charities they created during their lifetimes. Theresa was always convinced they knew the truth.

"Think about it. They dated two low maintenance and, might I suggest, pretty nice looking younger ladies who loved and respected them, were their intellectual equals, didn't try to change them, weren't after their money, always made them look good in public, and were pretty damn good in bed. Why would they question that?"

I wasn't sure she was right, although they were two smart guys. How could they not have figured it out? But, as Theresa said, even if they had why would they have rocked the boat?

Over the last few years we have had fewer, but still some, sexual adventures. For the most part our sex lives revolve around each other, our sons, and our daughters. Our second set of sons are now approaching the age of consent. Lucy, Chen, Theresa, and I are still considering exactly how to deal with that.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 09



Chapter Nine of The Therapist's Journey is set at the first anniversary of the beach trip when Theresa and Miles became lovers, which was the subject matter of Chapter One of the story. Temporally, Chapter Nine is set within the period covered by Chapter Eight. It is an effort to adopt the suggestions of various readers that I more fully incorporate into the story (a) the sales girl who appeared in Chapter One and (b) Lauren Stone and her son Scott, who appeared in Chapter Four, and (c) relate some of my own experiences that underlie this story. Sally Barry, the eponymous therapist, is the narrator of the first and third part of this chapter. Lauren Stone is the narrator of the second part. As to your other suggestions, I appreciate and have read them all. If I can muster the imagination to incorporate them into the story, I will. As for those more interested in Becoming the Alpha Male, another installment is coming soon. 

I

The summer after Theresa and Miles became lovers, the same friends offered the use of the beach home where it all began. Mike, Theresa's husband, had to beg off. All his time was devoted to staving off the bankruptcy of the construction company to which he had dedicated his life. Theresa invited Brad, my son, and I to join them. She and I decided to go down a day early to get the place ready. Brad would pick up Miles at the airport and join us the following day, arriving a day before Miles' friends and providing us twenty-four hours uninterrupted access to our boys' bodies. 

Then there was a hiccup. Lauren Stone, the mother of Miles' friend Scott, was scheduled to speak at a conference located about a six hour drive from the town in which we all lived. The beach cottage being the mid-point of the drive, she asked Theresa if she could drop Scott off a day early. The only reason Theresa and I had to say no, that we planned to spend that day screwing our boys, seemed an excuse we should keep to ourselves. Theresa told her she was welcome and, if she wanted, she could spend the night and finish her drive the following day.

Lauren was, like I, a psychologist. She was respected for her meticulous approach to problems, an attitude reflected in her appearance. She was trim, attractive, and always perfectly dressed, every hair in place, make-up exact. During the past year she and I had become, if not quite friends, friendly. She had heard I was having success with some unconventional approaches to sexual issues and consulted with me when her by-the-book approach was not working. I, on the other hand, found it useful to discuss problems with her; she could see the flaws in my more outlandish ideas. 

* * * *

Theresa and I were packing for the trip when she exclaimed, " It's her card. The one the sales girl gave me when Miles and I went shopping the day we became lovers."

I remembered the story well. In preparation for their mock date, Theresa and Miles, pretending to be a couple, had gone clothes shopping. The sales girl, for whatever reason, had given Theresa her card and asked that she call. That night Miles made his mother his lover; the rest of the trip was devoted to each other. Theresa must have put the card in her luggage and forgotten it.

She transferred the card to her purse. "On the way down why don't we stop at the shop. We can pick up a few racy items for the boys."

* * * *

When we arrived at the shop the next day we were greeted by a woman whose age was hard to determine. Could be mid-thirties, could be mid-forties. Her thin body was composed, it seemed exclusively, of wiry lean muscles. Her face was narrow and her black hair parted in the middle, stopping before it reached her neck.

"Can I help you ladies?" 

"Yes, we're looking for some lingerie. I came here last year and really liked your collection."

"I hope your visit was pleasant. As to the lingerie: practical or fun?"

"Fun, and the visit was wonderful. We were helped by a delightful young woman. In fact, while packing for this trip I found her card." She fished it out of her purse and handed it to our host.

A smile split her face. "That's my daughter, Mehgan. It's nice to hear good things about her. She's just finished her first year at the Culinary Institute of New Orleans and is on her way home. In fact I expect her to call any minute. My name is Nicole Collins, I own this shop." 

"My name is Theresa, this is my friend Sally."

Nicole, who was warm and positive, fun and playful, showed us the collection. Then her phone rang and she excused herself. I was holding a teddy in front of Theresa, imagining ripping it off her, when she reappeared with her hand over the phone's microphone. 

"I was just telling my daughter the nice things you said about her. She thinks she remembers you. Do you mind saying hello?"

Theresa took the phone and related a few details of her visit. My friend would be a very bad poker player; she wears her emotions on her face. Her face lit up it when it became clear Mehgan remembered her. Then, as if out of nowhere, consternation flashed across her pretty face and her voice cracked. She quickly regained her composure, but something had bothered her. When she finished she handed the phone back to Nicole.

Nicole wandered off to finish the call. When she returned she said, "Mehgan asked if you would like to come to dinner tonight. She's an excellent cook."

I was somewhat surprised when Theresa answered for both of us, "Sure, we'd love to."

Nicole provided a time and place and Theresa and I headed for the car with shopping bags that promised some fun evenings ahead. Once safely outside I asked, "What happened in there?"

"She remembered me. She recalled the clothes I bought and then said 'I hope you and your son had a wonderful evening.' She knew Miles was my son."

"We don't need to go tonight."

"No, I need to know how she knew."

* * * *

We got to the beach house around 5:00. Instead of getting it ready, we talked; Theresa was upset. We then dressed for the evening, stopped for a bottle of wine, and arrived at Nicole's on time. The house backed up on a bayou and wetlands. Nicole, dressed in a loose button-down silk top and leggings, opened the door before we could knock. We handed her the wine and exchanged kisses. She ushered us to the kitchen.

There we met Mehgan. The resemblance between the two women was striking. Mehgan's face was a little wider, but they had the same broad winning smiles. Unlike her mother's brown eyes, Mehgan's were a light sparkling green. Both ladies were in great physical condition although Mehgan was not as slender and a tad more buxom than her Mom. Meghan, moreover, was no longer a blonde. Her hair was dark brown, running past her shoulders. She noticed Theresa's eyes lingering on it.

"Oh this," she said, holding her hair, "it was dyed. I let it return to it's natural color. People do not take a blonde chef seriously."

Nicole filled glasses with our wine and we talked while Mehgan put the finishing touches on the meal. We adjourned to a screened-in porch overlooking the bayou and were served a cassoulet and lemon steamed white asparagus with Hollandaise sauce. Nicole was correct, her daughter was an excellent cook. After we finished we were provided glasses of sherry. I followed Nicole into a large comfortable den which overlooked the thick marshes behind the house. Mehgan and Theresa lingered behind. It was then that Mehgan broached the subject that Theresa had intended to address.

"I need to apologize. I could hear that you were upset when I mentioned your son on the phone; Mom confirmed my impression. She told me how startled you were. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend."

"How did you know he was my son?"

"At the boutique, you were enjoying shopping, trying on the clothes, playing dress-up. His eyes, well, they were aflame with desire for you; he was enjoying you. You were pretending to be a couple; he wasn't; he desperately wanted it. It seemed odd. It took about three minutes on social media to confirm you were mother and son. I never forget the two of you, you guys were great together and I always hoped he got what he wanted. When Mom told me how you reacted, well, it seemed obvious he did. You wouldn't have gotten that upset if it was just innocent shopping."

Theresa thought about it a second, struck by the irony that it was her reaction that gave away her secret. "I guess I'm concerned that we're broadcasting it to the world."

The two of them had followed us into the den, but were still out of earshot. 

"Does your friend know?" Mehgan asked.

"Yes."

Mehgan went to stand behind her mother, who was sitting on a couch. Theresa sat next to me. "I was just telling Theresa how I knew she was shopping with her son. You could say I have a sixth sense about these things."

With that Mehgan leaned down and kissed her mother on the mouth. Their lips parted and it became a long deep French kiss. Mehgan's hand snaked inside her mother's blouse, kneading one of her small breasts before coming to rest on her flat stomach. They broke the kiss, their eyes brimming with desire. An oil flair lit up between my legs. Theresa's fingers intertwined in mine, she was feeling it also.

Mehgan sat next to Nicole. "I don't think you need to worry about the general population figuring it out. People just don't think that way. My daughter and I have been lovers for two years. There is a tight social circle in this community and there are back channels to learn the gossip. I have my sources. No one suspects."

Mehgan leaned against her mother's body, who laid her arm across her daughter's shoulder and chest. "My father is a big time developer. He's on the road constantly and he's a cheat. One night he and Mom went to a party, he got drunk and started flirting with the hostess. They got home and he passed out. Mom was pissed. She grabbed a glass of wine and went out to the pool to find me skinny-dipping. I had just had a fight with my boyfriend, smoked a joint, and decided what the hell, I'd go for a swim. I invited Mom in and one thing led to another. She wasn't my first woman." 

Nicole finished the story. "When Mehgan and I became lovers I grasped the futility of my marriage. He wasn't going to change and I was invested in a relationship that made me miserable when I didn't need to be. He makes more than enough money for the two of us. No we live apart. When he needs me to appear at openings and social events, I go and I'm right charming. When he doesn't, I make no fuss about his mistresses. I have the shop, this house, teach pilates, yoga, and aerobics five days a week, and have my own lovers. It's a wonderful life, I only regret not discovering it sooner."

As I listened to her images were swirling in my head: Miles and Theresa, Meghan's first encounter with her mother, Nicole and her lovers. All of this was feeding the slow burn between my legs. 

Trying to calm myself, I walked to the window, but found myself looking for the pool. I could hear Mehgan's light steps approaching from behind. Her small hand came to rest on the middle of my back. She had been reading my mind. "It's over there, to the right." My eyes followed to the spot to which she was pointing. There it was. I pictured Nicole and Mehgan in the water, kissing, discovering a passion they hadn't known existed. My knees grew weaker.

Mehgan's hand, which was running up and down my spine, sent chills through my body. 

In a reflection of the glass I saw Nicole walk over and sit next to Theresa. She took Theresa's hands in her own. I looked back out the window, enjoying Mehgan's touch while Theresa explained why we were in town: it was her son's birthday, he and his friends were coming to celebrate, and she and I had arrived a day early to get the place ready.

"I'm afraid we've distracted you."

"We'll just have to get an early start tomorrow."

"Why don't you stay with us tonight? It's better than doing laundry and making beds at midnight."`

"You're sure it wouldn't be any trouble?" Theresa asked.

Nicole leaned forward and kissed Theresa softly on the lips. It was a kiss that promised a lot more. "We have a lot of room. It would be our pleasure." 

Theresa turned her head towards me. I looked back. Her eyes were aflame. She was as aroused as I. All I could think about was getting her alone someplace, anyplace, as soon as possible. I nodded my assent. Theresa accepted the invitation and followed Nicole to the guest bedroom. Mehgan showed me where the towels and other necessities were kept. Then she kissed me. 

"I don't know if you two are exclusive, but if you're not Mom and I would love for you to join us. We have a very big bed."

The idea of denying that Theresa and I were lovers flitted across my mind, but quickly flitted out. What was the point?

Mehgan led me to the guest suite and said goodnight. I turned to Theresa and kissed her hard. "Are you as turned on as I am?"

"Think so."

"Meghan invited us to join them."

"Yeah, Nicole did also."

"What do you think?" As the words came out of my mouth I saw Theresa's eyes blaze with need and something else, was it the adventure? She wanted it, but she also wanted permission. While we had talked about it, she and I had been with no other women. 

Before she could answer I said, "Let's go."

We walked across the den, ran up the stairs, and sprinted down the hall. The bedroom was magnificent. It was decorated with original artwork and the back of the room was a wall of windows overlooking the wetlands. Soft music played from invisible speakers. It was all centered around an immense round bed flush with pillows and silk sheets. On the end tables sat -- it required a second to sink in -- sex toys, including a thick black dildo. I pointed it out to Theresa.

"Just about Miles-sized," she giggled.

We heard Nicole and Mehgan's voices in a side room. We entered; it was a bathroom as imposing as the bedroom. They were in the shower; their forms visible through an opaque glass door.

"Knock, knock," Theresa said.

Nicole answered. "I'm glad you could make it. Come on in, there's room enough for all."

Theresa and I stripped and stepped into a combination shower and steam room. Water dripped from Nicole and Mehgan's exquisite bodies -- their hours in the gym certainly paid off. I was standing before Mehgan; Theresa faced Nicole. After a kiss and hug the two woman shampooed our hair and soaped the front of our bodies, paying meticulous attention to the palms of our hands, our necks, our thighs, our breasts, and our pussies. Mehgan turned me around and scrubbed my back, while making sure the shower's spray landed directly on my sex. After thoroughly cleaning my butt, she replaced her hands with her soft lips, kissing and licking my backside. When her tongue entered the cleft between my buns I opened my legs. Mehgan reached between my legs and inserted a finger into the wet slit of my labia, gently, exquisitely, moved upwards until she skimmed the underside of my bulging pulsating clit. Ripples of pleasure poured from it and I bent over at the waist, trying to push my swollen bud into Mehgan's finger. 

That motion further separated my ass cheeks. Mehgan took full advantage, licking along the exposed cleavage. When she reached my asshole she increased the pressure. The sensation was unbelievable. I bent a little more, pushing my butt further out, yearning for Mehgan to continue. The tip of her tongue entered my asshole. My legs were turning to jelly; my insides were trembling. I grasped my breasts and squeezed them, running my fingers around my areolas. I started grunting and Mehgan planted a thumb in my pussy while her finger rubbed my clit. This, combined with the effect of the water from the shower buffeting my cunt, sent waves of euphoric pleasure through me. Her insistent tongue was steadily moving in and out of my sweet sensitive anus. I vigorously kneaded my breasts, pinching my nipples. Spasms of need were rising in my belly. It was wonderful. And then, suddenly, all these separate rivers of pleasure converged in one overwhelming joy. The pressure of my imminent orgasm sent my brain reeling and pelvis rocking. I released my breasts and planted my hands on the shower's wall for support. Then, quivering in both need and delight, I flew over the edge.

"Oh, OH, Yeah, OOHH, AAAHH, YEESS, OH GOD, OH GOD, I'M COMING, OHH, NNOOOO....."

As I shuddered and convulsed my thighs clenched, trapping Mehgan's hand, which was covered by a combination of the water and the musky erotic liquid pouring from me. I sat a bench that ran along the side of the shower, shaking uncontrollably as the ripples of my orgasm continued. As the spasms passed I looked at Mehgan, my face shining in appreciation. Then, behind her, I noticed Theresa, her face lit up in a smile that matched my own, slumped against Nicole. I thought back, yes, there had been another voice wailing in orgasmic joy when I came. When I turned my attention to Nicole I saw she had her fingers buried in her own pussy, working herself, looking for release.

"A good guest always returns a host's kindness," I said. I got on the shower floor and slid between Nicole's legs. Nicole's tits were small with bright red areolas covering half their surface. I took a breast into my mouth, working the sides with my cheeks while lavishing love on the nipple with my tongue. Nicole gasped and stroked the side of my head. Her incoherent moans signaled she was in a high state of arousal; she was already close to an orgasm. I knew I should move on but found myself addicted to her breast, reluctantly spitting it out and turning to the other only when she pulled it from my mouth. 

Finally, however, her voice desperate with need, she said, "My cunt...., my cunt..., do my cunt."

I pushed Nicole's knees further apart. Her pussy was open before me and my mouth suddenly dried in hunger for it. I licked the full length of her open slit. When Nicole's clit jumped from its hood, my tongue was there to greet it. Nicole's wiry muscular legs tensed and her feet rocked back on their heels, her toes curling. While I continued working on her clitoris I slid a finger inside her. When I found a rough stop I scratched. Nicole jumped. Yep, there's the g-spot. Nicole took a firm grip on the back of my head, centering me on her clittie. 

"Oh god yes, oh god you sweet thing. Do it!!... Harder!! YESSS!"

I pulled the skin above her clitoris taut, exposing the red swollen nub and sucked it into my mouth. After lashing it for several minutes, I captured it between my lips so that the head barely poked out. I worked the sides with my lips and ran my tongue over the trapped enlarged tip. Nicole's strong hands were buried in my hair. 

"Lick Me, YESSS, Make me cum, Ohhh Yeah, Yeah...It's happening, don't stop...don't STOP, OH MY, OH MY, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, AARRGGHH"

Her juice gushed out as she humped my face. After several long minutes she stopped, her body's tension visibly draining. I looked at her face, I was proud of the pleasure that shone there. Then her eyes, which had been drowsily half-closed, focused, looking behind me. What had attracted her attention? As I moved towards the bench I turned my head.

Mehgan was facing a showerhead, which was spraying water onto her cunt and clit as it had on mine. Theresa stood behind her. Protruding from Theresa's pussy was six inches of a thick bright red plastic cock. Mehgan reached between her legs, placing the tool against her opening, rubbing the fat head against the entrance. Theresa was rolling Mehgan's breasts in her hands while kissing her neck and ears. Mehgan was a lucky girl, I knew how good those soft full lips felt.

Mehgan fed the bulbous head of the dildo into her pussy and then wantonly humped back against it. Nicole and I watched the head of the toy disappear into her pussy. I knew that Theresa had no experience with dildos and at first her movements were slow and careful. But as Mehgan's low moans became distinct over the sound of the shower, Theresa became more assertive, pushing the dildo into her new friend with increasing speed and power. The water flowing down Mehgan's leg was joined with the copious flow of fluid from her cunt.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 09



As we watched as Mehgan's labia swell and turn bright pink, Nicole and I buried our hands in our pussies. Theresa, growing in confidence, started rotating her hips, moving the instrument around inside Mehgan. 

"Ahhhhh, yeaahhh, ohhhhhhhh, pleeease, ohhhhh."

Mehgan seemed lost to anything but the artificial intruder stretching her vagina. I watched her breasts glowing red and her nipples, which poked between Theresa's ring and middle fingers, grow and harden. Theresa began moving her own hips up and down, side to side, varying her motions and the speed and power with which she fucked this sexy beauty.

Mehgan loved it. "Oohhhhh! Yesss, yeeesss, ohhh."

The ladies were picking up the pace, fucking with increasing fury. Theresa pushed all the way into Mehgan and then withdrew until only the dildo's head remained inside her, tantalizingly close to popping out, before pushing back in. Mehgan's hands were planted on the shower wall. The muscles of her arm tightened as she leveraged her body to ramp up the already frenzied pace.

"Uhhggg, ohhh Yesss, it's happening, it's coming ohhh yeaaah."

Theresa moved her hands from Mehgan's breasts to her hips, taking full control of the girl's movements. Mehgan was berserk with need, sitting on the brink of cumming, but unable to push herself to that ultimate bliss. Then I heard Nicole explode, "OH, FUCK! OH, SHIT! Ohhh!" I removed my hand from my snatch and pulled Nicole tight against me. I locked my mouth to hers and our tongues played together. 

The sound of Nicole's orgasm was what Mehgan needed. As Nicole rocked through her orgasm I heard Mehgan groan as the muscular walls of her pussy contracted on the rubber phallus. "Mmmm, Oh, yeah; Ugh, YEAH; Aahhhhhhhhh, OOOooooohhhhh YES, YES, MMMMMmmmmm. Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" She shuddered through what seemed an endless orgasm and then, as if in a deep trance, sank to the floor, curling into a satiated ball. 

Theresa turned to face me and Nicole. The dildo slowly slid out of her and fell to the shower floor. I stared at it, then looked up. I was, for the thousandth time, struck by my friend's sensual beauty. Her high state of arousal shone on her face: her pupils were glassy and dilated, her mouth open, her tongue licking her thick swollen lips, her skin flushed. I knew I should do something, but could only stare at her while I fervidly rubbed my clit and cunt.

Nicole came to the rescue. She got on her knees and sank her face into Theresa's crotch., cupping Theresa's ass and pulling my friend's sex tight into her face. Theresa took her full breasts into her hands, massaging them, her elegant fingers working the thick dark areolas and red nipples. Our eyes locked on each other. Our excitement increased in lock-step, charging to the orgasms we both desperately needed. Who came first is impossible to say. I saw her face contort and then my pussy spasmed.

"OH, FUCK! OH, SHIT! Oh FUCK! OH GOD! YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!" I hollered.

Through half-closed eyes I watched Theresa's face flush with pleasure, as she shouted, "Oh, God, YES; that's it. Right there, more, YEESS, oh yeahhhhhhhh," before her quivering body sank to the floor and sprawled next to Mehgan, who was still curled up in contentment.

* * * *

Eventually four happy bodies made it back to the benches. After a steam four happy wet woman spilled from the shower.

Temporarily satiated, we dried each other off and headed for the bedroom, taking turns blow drying each other's hair. We exchanged kisses and caresses, laughing and giggling in delight, while fostering new levels of arousal.

Theresa's beautiful thick long hair was taking the longest to dry. She was laying on the bed, her hair hanging over the side while I worked on it with the blow dryer. Unfortunately for my concentration, Nicole and Mehgan were working on me; one had a finger in my cunt while the other was thumbing my clit. My hair care skills were quickly dissolving.

Theresa, dear friend that she was, finally rolled over, took the blow dryer from my hands, and said, "Don't worry, I'll finish it myself. Have at her ladies."

Nicole and Mehgan pushed me to the floor and commenced ravishing me. Their hands and mouths seemed to be everywhere. As I watched Mehgan's tongue playfully flick my erect nipple, I had a sudden desire to have her mouth on mine.

"Mehgan, please kiss me."

She lifted her face from my breast. I caught the sparkle in her emerald eyes. She kissed me., not rapaciously, but slowly and sensually. At first it was mostly our lips, working against each other, a tongue darting out occasionally to tap and tease the other. But then our tongues met and explored each other. I caressed the space between her lips and teeth, the roof of her mouth, and her cheeks, before returning to her tongue. She the returned the favor, visiting every crevice of my mouth. 

Theresa interrupted us. Her voice strained with need, she said, "Jeez, I've never just watched before. Would you guys mind moving the action up here?"

Nicole and Mehgan stood and helped me up. Theresa was on the bed with the Miles-sized dildo imbedded in her pussy.

Nicole asked, "You like?"

It took Theresa a second to realize Nicole had addressed her. Then the combination of alcohol and lust led her to say something a bit out of character. "Oh yeah...., it's about the size of my son's cock."

Mehgan and Nicole stopped a second, impressed. Mehgan recovered first. "Then I think you'll really like this."

She pulled from a drawer a similarly sized dildo with an electric chord dangling from it. Mehgan removed the plastic cock from Theresa's cunt, whose juices clung to it in elongated stings before breaking and falling onto her legs. Mehgan then slid the new dildo in, nice and slow. Theresa groaned, also nice and slow. "Unnnnnhhhhhhh."

She pointed to a switch on the cord. "This controls the speed. Let's try low."

Theresa responded, "Ohhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhh, so goooooood."

I couldn't take my eyes off my friend. She closed her eyes and rested her back against the bed frame. Her cunt muscles contracted and pushed the dildo out. Mehgan grasped the base and slid it back in, twisting and rotating the plastic cock, moving it around and within Theresa. Mehgan clearly reveled in using the dildo on another woman. Her mouth was ajar and her breasts glowed a bright red. I looked back at Theresa. Her face was a mask of lust. She was wholly immersed in a cornucopia of pleasure. I made no effort to disguise my fascination and Nicole accommodated me. She rolled me on my side so I could watch while continuing to feast on my juicy cunt. She had my pussy lips opening and closing at command. She pushed her tongue inside me; a slim strong finger entered my anus.

Mehgan was sitting next to Theresa, one arm draped across her shoulders, her hand on Theresa's left breast, kneading and squeezing the firm ample flesh. The other hand held the base of the vibrator, twisting it within Theresa, who was cooing in delight. Theresa turned her head and her mouth suddenly assaulted Mehgan. When, a few more moments before, Mehgan has kissed me, those kisses started out slow and intimate. There was none of that here. Theresa and Mehgan's kisses reflected the desperate waves of desire flowing through them. 

As the kisses became more and more passionate, Theresa turned her body towards her new lover. Her right hand snaked behind Mehgan's neck, pulling their faces tighter together. Her left hand found Mehgan's breast, cupping it while her thumb rubbed the nipple. Mehgan continued to expertly work the dildo, upping the speed until it reached the maximum. Theresa, anxious with need, was humping her hips against the electric cock. Her body was shaking, quivering with desire. I had spent far too many hours in bed with Theresa not to recognize what was happening to her, sheer physical need and desire had supplanted everything else.

As I always did when we reached that point in our lovemaking, I was totally enthralled, I found Theresa's intense arousal to be the most sexually stimulating thing I knew. Nothing could ignite me like watching Theresa's concupiscence aflame. I was once again witness to her approaching a climax. 

"My clittie, please do my clittie," I exclaimed. Nicole instantly complied, sucking my clit into her mouth, her tongue pushing aside the hood and bathing my bud in pleasure. Her fingers replaced her tongue in my vagina.

Theresa broke her kiss and turned so she squarely leaned against the headboard of the bed. She dug her feet into the mattress, using it as leverage to push her hips into the dildo. I imagined how deep inside her it must be, pressing against her cervix. 

Eyes closed, she shouted, "Omigod, cumming, cumming, I am, I am, so CUMMMINGG!!"

That was all I could take. I took hold of my breasts, rubbing my dark nipples with my thumbs, as my orgasm pounded into me. "SUCK ME, LICK ME, ME TOOOOOO, OH BABY ME TOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

* * * *

The four of us lay prone on the bed for awhile, bodies wet with perspiration, breathing heavy. When I opened my eyes, Theresa smiled. 

"You look quite content," she said.

"I am," I replied. "You look like your feeling no pain."

"No, none at all. You've got to try one of these things."

The four of us made love deep into the night and yes, I did try one of those things.

* * * *

We dragged out of bed the next morning. We were already late getting the house ready and were getting later by the minute. Nicole and Mehgan volunteered to help. Theresa and I would prepare to the house. Nicole and Mehgan would stop at the supermarket. Theresa and I had completed the preliminary work when Nicole and Mehgan arrived. We had just finished putting the food up and poured four glasses of wine when Miles and Brad appeared.

Mehgan, looking out the window, spotted them first

"Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Theresa asked.

"Those boys are gorgeous and I promised by boyfriend in New Orleans I wouldn't be with any other guy while I was away."

We met them on the porch. Theresa made the introductions. "Nicole, Mehgan, this is Brad, Sally's son, and Miles, my own. Miles, when you and I went shopping for clothes last summer, Mehgan was the clerk."

Miles, sheepishly, apologized for not remembering Mehgan. That he did not recall such a lovely woman confirmed that at the moment he only had eyes for his mother. As we finished unloading the car Lauren and her son Scott pulled up in her Jaguar. 

The eight of us sat on the porch. The contrast between Lauren and her son was, as always, striking. She moved with grace and eased into the conversation with Nicole and Mehgan as if a long-time friend. Scott was awkward: he was intimidated by the adults and plethora of good-looking woman; he barely said a word. Although his covert glances showed he was smitten with Meghan, his attempts to strike up conversations with her were clumsy. After an hour Brad suggested the four young people take a walk on the beach. Relief flooded Scott's face at the chance to get away.

After they wandered off Lauren said to Nicole, "You have a lovely daughter."

Nicole thanked Lauren and returned the compliment.

And then, after a moment, as if unsure how to broach the subject, Lauren said to all of us, "The contrast between my Scottie and your children is pretty striking, he seems so immature compared to them. What's your secret?" 

"Scott's a fine boy, Lauren. Don't be to hard on him." Nicole said. "As to our secret, I don't know. Why don't you ask them yourself?"

Lauren thought a second, "I might just do that."

The four of us enjoyed the sun and sky. Lauren, her tongue loosened by a killer margarita, was more gabby than usual and returned to the topic of her son several times, at one point complaining that he had flunked calculus and statistics and had to take them again over the summer to graduate high school.

After about an hour we heard the young people returning. Scott was tagging along behind Mehgan, who was making a bee-line for her mother. Miles and Brad were a couple of hundred yards behind.

"I just got a call from Heather. One of the guys had to drop out of this afternoon's volleyball tourney. Scott's volunteered to fill in; it turns out he played in high school. Can I take the car; we need to skedaddle to get him registered."

Lauren seemed intent on supporting her son. "Don't worry, Scottie, take ours. My purse is over there."

Scott, who I expect didn't get to drive the Jag all that often, grinned and returned with the purse. Lauren fished out the keys.

Brad and Miles arrived as Mehgan and Scott sped off. Miles told Theresa he wanted to take Brad to an island in the bay that had been designated as a bird sanctuary. I remembered it from my first session with Theresa; it was one of the places Theresa and Miles had visited during the first few desperate days of their lovemaking.

Theresa remembered it too. "It's a lovely place, you'll have fun."

"Why don't you guys join us."

Theresa answered first. "I've had one too many margaritas." Nicole and I also declined. All eyes turned to Lauren.

"Actually, it sounds interesting. You boys don't mind if I tag along?"

"No, Dr. Stone, it's always fun to show the place to someone new."

"Give me a minute to change."

The boys were readying the boat when Lauren came out of the house wearing a a powder blue Jamie Printed Bandeau Maillot one piece bathing suit sans shoulder straps. It was a suit appropriate for an attractive women of forty, it covered her butt and exposed no cleavage, but form fitted her well-kept body, showing off her toned shoulders and upper back. She had pinned her dark blonde hair back and was wearing sun glasses and a broad straw hat. She still had on her pearl earrings. She loaded her iPad, a blanket, and sun block into a small bag and headed for the boat.

II

The ride to the island was choppy, but otherwise uneventful. The boat was loud; conversation would need to wait for landfall. I did take the opportunity to study the boys -- why were they so different from my son? I had known Miles for years. When exactly had he become such a handsome young man? And while I had only recently met Brad, I was struck by his casual good looks and easy manner.

We dropped anchor by the island. We were the only boat in sight; we had the place to ourselves. As we waded in I asked the question Nicole suggested. "Miles, Brad, you two seem so much more mature, more comfortable in your skin than Scott. What do you attribute it to?"

The boys jumped to their friend's defense.

"C'mon Dr. Stone, Scott's fine."

"I know he is, but he could barely put a sentence together when he saw Mehgan and sat there mute when the adults talked. You guys jumped right in. And please, out here at least, call me Lauren. "

The two boys looked at each other, assessing how far they should go. Finally, they reached an unspoken understanding. 

Brad started. "Well, Lauren," consciously trying out my first name, "are you sure you want to hear this."

"Yes."

"Okay, Miles and I have both been lucky enough to have older, more mature lovers. They help you grow up fast."

That seemed far too simple an explanation. They were probably getting college girls because they were mature good-looking guys, not the other way around. 

"Has Miles been introducing you to college girls?"

"No, I mean a generation older. Ladies of your age."

I was dumbfounded; this was not at all what I expected. I suppressed my first instinct: to ask whom. 

The boys saw my confusion.

"Does that surprise you?"

"Yes," I answered. "Older ladies shouldn't be preying on younger men."

That drew a smile from the boys. "Uh, there was no preying. Miles was certainly the aggressor and I was, at least, an active participant for one and the aggressor for the other."

"Are you telling me there are several?"

""Yes," Miles answered. Then, after a short delay, "You asked."

I was flustered, my thoughts scattered. I wanted to ask more questions, but my mind kept lunging from the analytical to the prurient. What would these handsome young men want in women twice their age? I could certainly see what a woman would see in these two gorgeous young men; it would be like living a fantasy in which the hunky young movie star walked off the big screen and into your bedroom. 

"But Brad, I've seen you with Katie."

"Lauren, the fact that Miles and I are involved with older women doesn't mean we also don't like woman our own age."

"But certainly, you find girls your own age more attractive."

They looked at me like I was just being silly. "Oh please," they seemed to say together, "Lauren, look at yourself, you're beautiful."

Then Miles. "You know, there was a reason the guys liked hanging out at Scott's place."

Unsure of whether to fuss or reprimand them, I flirted. "I thought it was the chocolate chip cookies."

He smiled and flirted right back, "Don't sell yourself short. You're intelligent, you're gracious, charming, and gorgeous. You sure do look great in that bathing suit. There'd be something wrong with a man who didn't want you."

My husband's moribund interest crossed my mind.

He went on. "Remember, we all flirted with you, although, I've got to admit, we weren't particularly good at it."

I thought back to how much I had enjoyed their innocent, albeit clumsy, flirtation.

"Through a combination of cowardice and the thought that you couldn't possibly be attracted to any of us, none of us went any further. If any of us had had more guts, if we had approached you and if you had been willing, think about what we would have learned from you."

Thoughts of those young men populating my bed flooded my mind. Their beautiful firm bodies. Young lovers, able to go all night, eager to learn. The mad passionate needy love-making of youth. Had it been that close? I had to get my imagination under control.

And then he broke the mood; his voice dropped a tone, "We're here. Let's keep it quiet for the moment, I want you to see this." The boys took my hands and helped me climb a ten foot sand dune. At the top we found ourselves looking at a lagoon, surrounded by dense vegetation and populated my egrets, ibises, and great blue herons. It was beautiful. I fetched my iPad, made a record, and then just watched. I could feel the boys' hands on my back. I liked their touch.

I not sure how long we lay there, observing nature in its most fundamental beauty. Then the birds took to the air. The three of us walked to the lagoon's edge. 

"It's lovely. I imagine the Garden of Eden looked like this."

The boys laid out a blanket and declared it was time for more sun screen, which they insisted on applying. I enjoyed their hands; they knew how to touch a woman. They pushed the edge of the envelope, keeping their hands on me too long, skimming the sides of my breasts, the edges of my butt, and approaching far to close to the spot between my legs. I let them, murmuring my appreciation, praising them, encouraging them. 

"Whomever these ladies are, they sure must love their back and neck rubs."

"We get no complaints."

We chatted. They flirted with me, I flirted back. I pretended we were far away from civilization, that it was all somehow innocent. I knew that was a lie, but I needed only the flimsiest of excuses. And there was another voice in my head, the one that said no one would ever know what happened out here. I knew I should stop this; that I should insist on returning to the mainland; that choosing not to decide whether to return was itself a kind of decision -- like not refusing the offer of another glass of wine from the co-worker you find so attractive. And yet I said nothing. I was enjoying myself. The boys were openly checking me out. I was doing the same with them. I rested my hands on their knees. My mind was filled with images of them making love to their mystery ladies, and to me.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 09



Finally, I had to ask.

"Who are they? Do I know them?"

They did not take the bait.

"A gentlemen doesn't tell; he doesn't even hint." 

I suspect it was at this moment that they knew they had me. When they showed that they could keep a confidence the last reason to deny myself what I wanted evaporated. It was kismet. When would there be a moment like this again? 

Miles said, "I'd like to show you something else." He and Brad stood and helped me to my feet. 

"The lagoon, especially at low tide, is fed in part by a spring. It gives the water a soft fresh feeling. It's a great place for skinny dipping. Come with us."

I waded into the lagoon with the boys while offering the weakest of rejoinders. "I'm not quite sure I'm ready to go skinny dipping. Are you sure you want to see this forty year old body?" It was more surrender than objection.

They both looked at me; they didn't need to say yes.

The water was cooler and softer than I expected. The mud at the bottom was oozy and sensual. It felt decadent sliding between my toes. 

After the water had risen above the boys' waists they removed their swim trunks and tossed them onto the beach. When I didn't object Brad smiled and kissed me. At first just his lips were against mine. When I responded in kind his hand found the back of my head and pulled me closer. I snaked my hands around his neck. His tongue was strong and aggressive. When he pulled away I caught his lower lip between mine, stretching it out.

I looked squarely at the two of them. "This needs to remain among us." They nodded yes, but it was the look in their eyes that reassured me. This was not their first rodeo.

"Be careful what you wish for." I tossed my bathing suit on the beach. It felt wonderful to be naked; my breasts buoyant and warmly lifting, as if caressed from beneath. Their admiring eyes left no question, they very much liked what they wished for. 

Both boys were inches from me, but I angled myself towards Miles. I stood on my toes, which made me slip deeper into the mud, while his mouth came to mine. His tongue played across my lips until they parted and I teased the tip of his tongue with my own. He quickly became more insistent, invading my mouth with force, urgency, and passion. Brad circled around behind me. He pressed his body against mine and coddled my breasts. My nipples, already erect, hardened further. I felt his erection against my back -- it was hard and long -- and his fingers took their time with my pert nipples. I reached down to Miles' thick erection, rotating my hand around its impressive girth. His kisses became more powerful, almost raping my mouth. 

Brad let go of my breasts and holding me by the waist, effortlessly lifted me. Miles' dick slipped from my grasp, but my breasts were well out of the water. Miles made love to them, licking and sucking, nibbling and kissing. I wrapped my arms around his head, pulling him tight to me.

By the time Brad put me down I was ready. I had always played it by the book. On this Edenic island I was going to break the rules.

"Last one to the beach gets fucked," Brad proclaimed The boys beat me easily. 

I had never contemplated the best way to be fucked by two teen-aged boys so I did the obvious, got on the blanket on all fours. The boys were a bit more imaginative. Miles lined up behind me and licked the crevice of my ass while slipping his thumb inside my ready wet sex, exploring until my sharp moan and hard jerk signaled he'd found the g-spot. His thumb continued to roam inside me returning, seemingly at random, to the g-spot. Brad laid down, positioning his head under me, exploring my tits and clit with his mouth until, finally, he focused on my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth and slathering them with his tongue. He trapped my clit between his thumb and index finger, massaging it with constant slow delightful pressure.

Up to this point it had not seemed completely real; the situation was too strange to fully accept. But it was impossible to deny the surging pleasure washing through my body. My breasts, my clit, my asshole, my cunt all radiated bliss. I had never felt anything remotely like this before. This buzz finally, firmly, pinned me to reality. It was then that I fully appreciated the forbidden nature of what I was doing; which only worked like a catalyst on the waves of ecstacy sloshing though me. Words poured from me, words I never use.

"Fuck, shit, so good, I AM FUCKING ON FIRE, SO FUCKING GOOD." 

My clitoris throbbed and swelled. Brad played it like a virtuoso. Meanwhile Miles' tongue was teasing the opening of my rectum, occasionally slipping inside. My pussy was opening and closing around his finger. The pressure was building within me; I no longer had any hope of controlling it; I wanted more and more. I had never just focused on what my body did when I came, part of me was always concerned about my partner. Now I couldn't do or think of anything else. The boys' sole goal was to pleasure me and I was a glutton, I wanted it all. It was exquisite, it was wonderful, it was sheer unadulterated joy and then, I felt my stomach tighten and my pussy and asshole clamp shut, it was here.

"CUM........MMM............MINNNNNGGGGGGGGG!!!!!"

Juice squirted from my pussy and flowed down my leg. The boys kept playing me, kept up the stimulation, leading me through a series of orgasms whose number I was unable to track. Finally I could no longer hold myself up and sank to my hands and knees, rolling off Brad. I dozed off -- I'm not sure how long -- and awoke nestled between the naked bodies of these gorgeous young men. 

"That was magnificent."

Miles asked me if I was ready for more, bit didn't wait for an answer. Grasping my hips, he rolled me over and raised me to my knees, my butt sticking up in the air. A finger entered my sex; it slid in effortlessly and I shivered, emitting a soft moan. I was most certainly ready for some more.

Brad took a position in front of me, laying on his back, offering his cock to my mouth. It was only semi-hard, but sprang to full attention when I took it in my hand, twisting my fingers around its shaft.

"I've never done this before, I mean with two guys. I'm not sure how."

"Lauren, a woman as smart and sexy as you, you'll get it in no time."

Guilt crept into me. "I've never cheated on my husband."

"We can stop but I promise, no one will ever know."

"No, no, no," I said, and then made a confession I found liberating, "I want this. There will never be a better time." And then, feeling inadequate, I confessed. "I haven't sucked my husband in years."

Brad's hand stroked, almost flowed, down the side of my face. "Lauren, don't worry, you'll do fine. If there is a problem I'll talk you through it"

The boys understood my apprehension. Miles, instead of entering me, slid his erection across the face of my labia, stimulating it, the opening of my vagina, and my clitoris. It felt nice, slowly stoking my fires. 

As I started to rock my bottom in time with Miles, Brad said "Do the head." I stuck out my tongue, licking the tip of his meat once, twice, thrice, my eyes locked on his. 

"Take a look, you're doing fine."

I looked at his shaft and out bobbed several drops of fluid. I looked back at him, the question clearly on my face.

"Of course you can have them."

I captured the pre-cum with the tip of my tongue.

Although my attention was set on Brad's cock, I instinctively moved my hips in time with Miles' thrusts, helping him slide his penis across my sex. The flow from my vagina was increasing. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the pleasure wash over me 

"Take the head in your mouth."

He was big. Could I do this? I licked its head, getting used to its size. I fit the crown between my lips, using both my tongue and lips to work on it. Brad moaned. I must be on the right track. I relaxed my jaw and started to push my face into his cock and then, with a nudge, it popped into my mouth. I clamped my lip around the shaft and probed his piss hole with my tongue, sometimes just licking it, sometimes seeing if I could push my tongue inside it. I licked around the head, monitoring his reactions and smiling inside as he moaned when I swabbed the underside of his penis with the flat of my tongue. 

"You're doing just fine Lauren, you're a natural cocksucker."

Unexpectedly I took pride in his comment. I remembered more about blow jobs than I thought. 

As Brad saw me relaxing, noting that I was no longer having any trouble holding his cock in my mouth, he placed his hands on the side of my head and rocked his hips, feeding me more of his prong, starting to fuck my mouth. Not a lot, an inch, then two. He wasn't forcing me to do anything, but guiding me, making sure my movements matched his. "Good girl. Use your tongue on the head and shaft. The bottom of my cock just south of the head is the most sensitive, but don't focus only there. Make sure to love it all."

We soon had a rhythm going. His moans encouraged me, letting me know I was on the right track.

That's when Miles entered me. His cock slithered inside me, slowly, confidently. When he was all the way in, he moved his body in time with mine as I sucked Brad's cock. Miles dick was big, much bigger than my husband's. I could feel my insides stretching, accommodating to his size. 

I relished the sheer debauchery of the moment. I had never been close to anything like this. I had never been with two men, much less two men who were my son's age, my son's friends. What would he think of his Mama if he could see this?

I thought about a patient I had treated for a pornography addiction. I had reviewed the clips that most obsessed him, including one where a luscious big-titted school teacher took on two boys at once. What had she done? I dropped to my elbows, grabbed Brad's shaft, and frigged him.

His voice was become more course and ragged, "Fuck Lauren, that's great....do it....do it HARDER."

I complied and he started shoving his cock into my mouth with more force. The details of the clip ran though my head. His balls, I needed to touch his balls. I held and coddled his testicles. A loud moan signaled his appreciation.

Miles picked up the pace, fucking me in short stabs, matching his thrusts to those of his friend's cock in my mouth. My cunt swelled and juiced in response. Each push brought a short sharp explosion of pleasure.

I was loving it, imagining myself as porn star or a kept woman or some tramp whoring herself to any hard-cocked young men she could find. Brad's balls tightened and retreated into his scrotum. He was going to come in my mouth! I readied myself, but hadn't imagined the volume of sperm his fat testicles could manufacture. His warm seed filled my mouth and then dripped around the edge of his cock and onto my lips, chin, and the blanket. I clamped my soft lips around his hard tool, desperate to capture as much as I could. It was gooey and sticky; it was wicked and delicious; it was wonderful When his orgasm receded and he pulled himself from my mouth, a few more drops of the precious fluid escaped and drip down my chin. I swallowed what remained.

Having watched me drink his friend's seed, Miles picked up the pace. When he said, "Get up on all fours," I pushed my body up, my tits swinging freely below me, wafting in the cool ocean breeze.

Miles wasted no time, he fucked me deep and hard. I had never liked this position, it lacked the intimacy of facing and watching my lover. But now it seemed primal. I felt his ball sac swinging below me, banging into my clit. I heard his body smacking into mine. The thought of being taken this way thrilled me. He was pounding into me. I pushed back. I loved the impact of his body against mine, it was physical and animalistic, feral and bestial. I wasn't a lady, I was a bitch-dog in heat. When his immense cock banged into my cervix, the short sharp pain emphasized the rawness of the act.

Miles grabbed my hips, controlling my movements. He angled me so that his thick prick pointed down and slid across my g-spot with each thrust. Fuck, this felt good.

I repeatedly approached an orgasm, but each time Miles slowed the pace, holding me on the edge before letting me slide back down the wave. Finally, as I neared exhaustion, he planted his legs outside mine, nudging mine inwards until they were all but shut, and again started fucking me. The reason for the shift of position was instantly apparent; my pussy was all but clamped shut. I hadn't been this tight since I lost my virginity. The friction was unworldly. My clitoris, which was wedged in my labia, radiated pleasure. I wondered how good my tight wet cunt must feel to his cock.

I couldn't hold myself up any longer and let go, dropping down to my elbows, my head on the blanket.

It felt dirty. I was being dominated, I was submitting myself to him. I had always liked to be in control, but I loved what was happening. Miles controlled my body and was doing to it things I had never imagined. He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. He smacked my ass smartly, twice. I had never let a man hit me before, but the combination of the sharp pain and the crack of his hand on my ass stirred the pot between my legs. Then he reached around to find my clit.

God, that was all I needed.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M FUCK, CUMMINNNNNNNNGGGGG."

My pussy spasmed and clamped down on Miles' dick. He let at an immediate roar and pushed harder into me, spraying his cream. His long cock hit by cervix, harder than it had before, and I felt an acute pain, which set off a new orgasm as powerful as the first. Arching my back, I pushed myself as hard into him as I could while issuing a high yelp, almost the wail of a coyote, before sinking to the blanket.

There I lay awhile, enjoying the warm sun on my satiated body. I placed my hand on Brad's thigh while nuzzling my foot against Miles.

"Good god guys, that was the best sex I've ever had. I didn't know it could be that good. Thank you. But, you've got to promise, no one else will ever know."

Brad assured me. "No one will ever know from us. But, if I may, you're a beautiful sexy wonderful woman. Excuse the crudity, but you should be fucked well and fucked often. Why would you chose not to feel this way? Why would you walk away from it?"

The reason that ran through my head, I'm just not this way, didn't even convince me. I looked forward to returning, or was it retreating, to the mainland and normalcy.

"I should probably show you this." Brad fired up a recording on my iPad of Miles fucking me. I stared at it dumbfounded. Who was the sexual beast who looked like me? When I looked at the savage pleasure rippling across my face I felt my breasts flush and my pussy tingle.

"Don't worry, its only on your tablet. No one else has it. You can delete it. I just thought something that sexy should be preserved."

I started to enable the delete function and then stopped. I could always do that tomorrow, I thought, before I left for the conference. Another couple of looks was not going to kill me.

* * * *

On our return Nicole, Theresa, and Sally were on the porch. Mehgan and Scott had checked in; their team had won the tourney and they were hanging with their teammates; we shouldn't wait on them for dinner. Brad fired up the grill. I went upstairs to shower, resisting the temptation to bring myself off while watching the recording of Miles and me on the island. I might be able to explain my lengthy absence to the ladies; the boys would know exactly what I'd been doing.

We sat outside, enjoyed an excellent meal, sipped wine, and listened to music. I was again struck by the gap between Miles and Brad and my son. Sitting with this many adults, Scott would have been mute and uncomfortable, sending text messages and playing video games. Brad and Miles, on the other hand, joined right in the conversation. 

As the night deepened the two boys invited the ladies to dance, first sweeping Nicole and I into their arms. Thoroughly winded, she and I sat down and their mothers took our place. Buzzed from the wine, my mind wide open, lost in the sound of the surf and the music, I watched them. The boys and their mothers swirled in sensual co-ordination; each touch was gentle and knowing. When one moved forward, the other knew just how to yield. Then I noticed their eyes, they looked at each other with an intense sensual passion. A nagging thought grew in the back of my head. All the information was here, but I couldn't make sense of it. And then it coalesced. It should have been obvious, the way they looked at each other, the way they touched and talked to each other: Brad and Miles' older lovers were their mothers.

The party broke up about half an hour later. Theresa and Sally, followed by their sons, headed for their basement and Nicole, whose daughter was still out, accepted an invitation to spend the night. I went upstairs, but was far too worked up to sleep. I wondered if Theresa and Sally were just then making love to their sons -- surely they wouldn't with Nicole down there. I fired up my iPad to review my notes for my presentation at the conference, but I couldn't concentrate. I repeatedly sneaked peaks at the recording of Miles and me on the island. Resistance was futile: I stripped and was about to dip a finger into myself when I heard the Jaguar.

I went to the window. Scott got out, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door for Mehgan. She took hold of his extended hand and stood. When had he learned to do that? They walked to the porch and exchanged a kiss before he opened the door for her. Seconds later I heard him climbing the stairs. I was putting on my gym shorts and a tee-shirt when he got into the shower.

After he turned off the water I waited a minute and knocked on his door. "Scottie, it's me."

"Just a second Mom," and then, "Come in."

The towel from the shower was wrapped around his waist. "Sorry Mom, I couldn't find my pyjamas." 

"I think they're still in the car. Don't worry, I'll only be a second. I was having trouble sleeping. I wanted to ask you about the tourney."

Scott moved to the center of the bed, leaving its edge for me. Today, with Brad and Miles, I had learned a whole new way to see teenaged boys. That's how I looked at my boy. Scott was every bit as good looking as they were. I admired his tall rangy body, hairless chest, and light skin. Again I wondered, were Miles and Brad downstairs right now fucking their moms? I was already turned-on. That thought didn't help. Neither was the sight of my own son, in a towel, water dripping down his body. 

"Mom, you okay?"

"Yes, son, just lost focus. How did the tourney go?"

"Well, we won. It was great: six person teams, three men, three women. Mehgan and the other guys were good and I played pretty well, but the two other girls were spectacular. They went to high school with Mehgan and now play for Florida State. They're working as life guards this summer."

The look in his eyes was a bit more lustful than analytical. I bit.

"Were they pretty?"

"Yeah, real pretty."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, both are more than six feet tall. Their names are Heather and Dana. Heather looks like a California beach blonde, long blonde hair, blue eyes, hell, her curves have curves. Dana's black and is more powerfully built; she keeps her hair short. Very dark skin, very dark eyes, but a broad bright smile. They were incredibly competitive. 

"In the finals we played a team that had two guys who played for their college, but we still won. I made the game winning block, but those girls deserve all the credit."

"That's wonderful. Where have you been?"

"The six of us joined by the two guys' girlfriends went out to celebrate, scarfing down some burgers and beer, and then the guys took off with their ladies. Heather and Dana invited Nicole and me back to their place."




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 09



"What happened there?"

Normally, I suspect, Scott would have just said "Nothin'," but he was a litle buzzed on beer and more than a little proud of himself. He wanted to brag. I had used my best comforting therapist voice, the one that gets people to tell me their deepest secrets.

He bit. "Well, y'know, how I get all shy around girls, especially when they're pretty. I probably wouldn't have gone at all if Mehgan hadn't insisted. I guess it was pretty obvious I was uncomfortable. Heather and Dana pulled out a joint" -- Scott was well aware of my view that marijuana should be legalized -- "and passed it around. Then Heather said, 'All these fine women make you nervous, don't they.'

"I guess I normally would have lied and said no, but she caught me off guard and I said, 'Yeah.' 

"And Dana said, 'You did us a favor, helped us win the championship. We're gonna do you one. We're gonna help you feel more comfortable with girls."

"How did they propose to do that?"

He was becoming self-conscious. "Y'know Mom, this feels kinda weird."

I placed my hand on his knee. "I can see that, maybe I can help. I saw you kissing Mehgan outside. Did they kiss you?"

"Yeah, one girl, and then the other, started making out with me. I mean, like, I've barely kissed a girl in my life and these two were all over me. Mehgan mostly sat there and watched. She said I was real cute but she had promised her boyfriend in New Orleans she wouldn't go after any other boys while she was home."

"Is that all that happened?"

He stopped and said only, "Unhh," but glanced at his penis. The body language was obvious. I gestured to his crotch. "Did they touch you, there?"

"Mom."

My comforting voice again, "It's okay honey, it's my profession."

"Yeah, they noticed my boner." He flushed red with embarrassment.

I drew a circle on his leg with my finger. I was brazen; I looked straight at his groin. He was starting to harden. "It's okay honey, what did they say about your cock." My choice of words had their intended effect, his penis jumped.

"Heather said she wanted to see it. She undid my belt and pulled my pants down. Then, I, uhh, then...." His voice trailed off.

"Did she use her hand or her mouth?"

"Her mouth."

"Was it nice?" 

He hesitated. 

"You came right away, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"The first few times that happens, its perfectly normal."

He seemed to take some comfort from my words. "That's what the girls said. They played with it and when it didn't go down they said like, 'That's amazing,' and then Dana did the thing to me. I lasted a lot longer the second time."

My son could come and stay hard! "They were right honey, not many men can do that."

"Really, I thought it was normal. When I," he started, and stopped.

"When you masturbate, sometimes you stay hard after you come, don't you, and then do it again."

"Yeah Mom, I guess I thought everyone did. All the guys I know say they can do it several times a night."

"No honey, you're pretty rare. Guys exaggerate. I promise you, once word gets out you'll be fighting the girls off."

"Mommmm!!!! I doubt it."

I thought about Brad and Miles. They could certainly fuck, god knows that was clear, but could they go several times a night? Could my son, with some experience, out-fuck them. I looked at my son. Despite his protest, pride at my compliment was evident in his face. I slid closer and dropped my tone a notch, my voice sexier, huskier.

"I don't doubt it at all. Women like men with staying power. They'll even brag to their friends. Word gets around. So, what happened next honey?"

"The girls said since they had done me, I had to do them. I was scared. I've never kissed a girl down there. Mehgan noticed and said, 'You've never done it before, have you?' I said I hadn't."

My supportive reaction to his story was having its intended effect. He had become, in part, a teen-age boy bragging about his first time. "Please, tell me more."

"Mehgan rolled Dana on her back and said 'I only promised my boyfriend no other guys. Watch what I do.' Mom, she started licking Dana. It was incredible. I mean, I've never seen anything like it. Mom, it really turned me on, it was like living in a porn flick."

He stopped. He was busted. I took my hand from his knee and ran my finger down his face, stopping at his lips. 

"Scottie, it's perfectly natural to watch porn, everyone's done it. I have. If it makes you uncomfortable to talk about it with me, maybe we should watch some together. Now please finish, tell me what happened."

I returned my hand to his leg, but this time further up, above the knee.

"I was so busy watching Mehgan I kinda forget about Heather. I guess she was distracted too, the two of us just stared at Mehgan and Dana for awhile. Then Heather grabbed my head and pulled it into her. I started licking away. She moved my head to the spots she wanted. Pretty soon she was moaning and whimpering and squirming. When she had her orgasm she sprayed a whole lot of juice on my face. She said I did pretty good for the first time."

He was beaming.

I had thought I couldn't get any more aroused, but the thought of Mehgan performing cunninglingus side-by-side with Scottie, took me to an entirely new level. It had been years since my husband had eaten me; Scottie was eager to learn.

"Did you," again I paused to emphasize my choice of words, "like eating her pussy?"

Scottie didn't seem to notice. He was on a roll. "Yeah Mom, it was great."

"That's another one in your favor son. So many men hate doing it."

"Really?" His quizzical look said he couldn't quite figure that out. 

My hand was more aggressive, kneading his thigh. "What happened next?"

"Well, I wanted to, y'know, but the girls said they had no protection. I offered to go get some, but Mehgan said it was time to head home, so we did."

My hand moved up his thigh, inside the towel. I was drawing slow lazy circles on his inner thigh with my pinkie.

"Scottie, so you're still a virgin?"

He paused, not sure what I wanted to hear, then "Yes, Mama." 

"It's been a big evening. How do you feel?"

"I dunno know Mom, I mean I've never been any good with girls. I get all tongue-tied and stuff. I never know what to say. Maybe after today I'll have a little more confidence"

"You seemed pretty confident with Mehgan when you got home."

"Yeah, but I don't know many Mehgans."

That's for sure, I thought. 

"Son, if you were having trouble with girls, why didn't you talk to me about it?"

Scott concentrated, trying to find a way to say what he was about to say without hurting my feelings. 

"Mom, you're not always all that, user-friendly."

My voice was open, non-judgmental. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're perfect. You always say the right thing, you always look great, hair, clothes make-up, always right. You're the smartest person I know, everybody says you're the best psychologist in town, and you know everybody. I mean, what am I supposed to do, say "Hey perfect Mom, you're kid's a goon-yah, he's scared of girls, help please?"

I had imagined that by setting myself up as the perfect role-model, I would help my son, but what he had learned was that women were distant and inaccessible, that one had to be perfect to be with one. I had intimidated a teenage boy all too aware of his own inadequacies. I had to be, I was ready to be, more gentle, more open. I thought about what Miles had told me on the island, that the boys gathered at the house because they thought I was hot. I slid my hand further up his thigh, an inch from his balls, massaging his leg. His cock tented the towel. 

"Honey, do you think I'm pretty."

With enthusiasm, "Yeah Mom," and then more muted, "I mean, all the guys do. They used to make comments about you until I decked a couple of them."

"Scottie, I'll make you a deal. Your Mom will become very user-friendly. She'll teach you everything she knows about girls. All you have to do is make one little promise."

I took hold of his cock. Already thick with blood, it sprang to attention. I pressed my thumb just below its head, forcing out some thick gooey pre-cum.

His voice high, he said, "Jeez , Mom, what are you doing? That feels great! What do you want?"

"You must promise not to let anyone know what is happening without my okay."

Pre-cum was dripping from his cock. I rubbed it into the head of his penis. His voice strained, his eyes a mixture of lust and disbelief, he mouthed, "Okay."

I undid the towel, revealing his staff. It was beautiful, blue and red veins ran up the side and it glowed a bright red. I could feel it throbbing with lust and need; it heated up as blood poured into it. He was big, maybe not quite as big as Miles and Brad, but plenty big, much bigger than his father, more than big enough.

"Ohmigod Scott, you've got a beautiful cock! I want it inside me. I need you to fuck me."

I pulled the tee shirt over my head, dropped my gym shorts, and spread my legs. My swollen breasts and wet cunt would have left a more experienced man with little question about what I craved. Still, Scottie was hesitant. 

"Baby, Mama wants you to fuck her. I want to be the first."

"Are you sure?"

I wrapped my hand around his magnificent tool, frigging it slowly.

"Scottie, I've never been so sure of anything in my life. Please do it, please fuck your Mama." 

Still he hesitated. I wasn't going to wait any longer. I pressed his hand firmly against my wet vagina. 

"Put a finger inside me," and then when he did, "Oooohhhh, baby, feels nice."

I slid towards him, he lifted himself on his arms, and I moved under him. I set his hard cock in the opening of my vagina. Tonight there would be no need for foreplay, he was stiff as a board and I swollen with need. 

"See baby, please fuck your Mommy, she wants it so bad." 

I raised my hips, encircling the first few inches of his rod in my hot twat. I looked into his eyes, which reflected confusion and need. I lifted my head, touching his lips with my tongue. When they parted I pushed into his mouth. When I lowered my head his followed me down. I brought my mouth to his ear. 

"Fuck Mommy, fuck her hard." 

I churned my ass, wiggling around the inches of his cock already in my quim. And then his lust consumed whatever doubt remained and with a deep beastly almost otherworldly growl he impaled me on this tool, pushing hard into me, bouncing my ass off the mattress. 

"Oh baby, it feels so good. Fuck your Mommy, FUCK HER."

There would be time in the future for gentle sweet fucks, but now I wanted it hard and raw. I wanted him to take me with all the single minded determination of a dog in heat. His mother was not made of marble, she was a cock-hungry bitch and she needed his fat dick inside her. And that was exactly what he was giving me. He pounded me and as my cunt's walls molded themselves to him blinding flashes of light filled my brain.

"Honey, your cock is so big, much bigger than your Daddy's. It's filling me up, splitting me in two. Fuck me, fuck your horny Mama."

My words spurred him on. He repeatedly filled my pussy with his hard cock. I moved my ass in frenzied motion. I was juicing like I had never juiced before and each time he rammed into me a tsunami of depraved sexual joy cascaded through my body. I clawed at his back and wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper into me, urging him to fuck me fast and hard, exhorting him to fuck me with even more force and power. 

"Gee, Mom, fucking is great. My dick feels so good."

"Yeah baby. From now on you can fuck me whenever you want, but we can do more. I'm gonna suck the cum out of your fat dick and you're gonna eat your Mom's sweet pussy. I'll teach you all about fucking and sucking."

He grunted and shoved himself into me with even more force. 

"Ooooh, baby, baby!" I sobbed huskily. "Give it to me hard! Ahhhh, fuck me, darling! Fuck my cunt! Fuck Mother in her hot cunt! Ooooh, you're so hard! So fucking hard! Ram it to me, baby! Oh, yes... ram that hard, sweet cock all the way to Mother's throat!"

I pulled his face to mine and his tongue invaded my mouth. His kisses were crude and untamed, exploding with need and desire. We had all the time in the world to refine his techniques. I would teach him everything I knew about sex and what I didn't know we'd discover together.

I whispered in his ear, "Hurry! Oh, hurry up and fuck meee! I'm getting ready to come, baby! Ohhhh, I want you to come with me! Mother wants to feel you coming deep inside her hot cunt! Fuck me and come in my fucking cunt, darling! I want your come-juice in my cunt, in my pussy!"

"Yes Mommy, cum for me," he gasped.

I wiggled my ass frantically. My cunt expanded and my clit knotted and tingled. The sweet boiling sensation of an impending orgasm were in my crotch. I rammed my hips into his plunging cock, fucking him as he pounded it into me with a wild untamed fury.

Suddenly he lifted his face. "Mom!" he grunted, his ass still pounding me in a frenzy. "I think I'm gonna squirt!" 

"Do it in me, cum in me!" I urged, my hands racing down his back to his ass. "Squirt it in me! Ohhhh, baby, come in me! I want to feel your cock coming in my cunt! Squirt it up mother's cunt now! Come in me now! Ohhhh, my cunt... you're making Mother's cunt come! Fuck it... fuck it!" 

Scott's body stiffened. He grunted and stabbed his cock deep into my pussy. His eyes were shut tight, his cock throbbed, and he shouted, "Ohh, Mom, yeahhh....," as he unloaded inside me, spurting his creamy cum into my pussy. His come-juice spattered inside me, coating the walls of my cunt. I cried out as my cunt convulsed, firmly gripping Scott's cock, trying to pull his entire cock into my body. The rippling spasms at the center of my being had turned into a shuddering, mind-spinning rapture. My body shook; I flushed all over; sweat matted my hair to my forehead. I howled out loud. The most powerful orgasm of my life consumed me. 

* * * *

I slowly returned to reality. When I did I praised my son. 

"Oooooh, God, Scottie! Oh, baby, that was so wonderful. I could actually feel your cock squirt into my cunt. Mommy's gonna want that sweet thing in her all the time. You're sure that was your first time? You're so much better than your daddy."

Which he was and, I thought to myself but did not say, better than Miles and Brad despite their greater experience. I started to discount the thought as a mother's pride, but then I focused on the glow in my loins. He was magnificent and he was all mine

"Honey, you're better than anyone. You and I will do this all the time. When I don't have you in my cunt I want you in my mouth, or my hand, or any other place you want to go."

He flashed me a big toothy grin, but his voice was sleepy. "Mom, that was amazing. Plus, like, I don't think I've ever heard you curse. Are you sure?"

"I've never been surer."

"I love you Mom."

"I love you son."

We were both soon fast asleep.

* * * *

I woke the next morning to the sound of voices downstairs and a house infused with the smell of freshly baked bread. My body still tingled. My son, whose slumbering form was next to mine, looked like he'd be out awhile. I checked the time. I had slept later than normal, but still had several hours before I needed to leave for the conference. I would let Scott sleep a while longer. I took a quick shower, combed by hair back, and headed downstairs.

To say I was in a good mood would be a serious understatement. The gang downstairs heard my happy singing before my steps gave away my presence. I was greeted warmly. Nicole brought me a tray with blueberries covered with yogurt, a spinach quiche, and fresh bread her daughter had prepared. I gabbed with the gang while enjoying breakfast and a cup of coffee. I was newly struck by how upbeat and beautiful these women were. Miles and Brad were, well, as hunky as ever. 

When done I walked to the sink with the dishes. Mehgan was wrapping up the food. I was imagining her, as Scottie had described, with her face buried in another woman's sex, giving my boy cunninglingus lessons. She was a beautiful young woman; I understood my son's instant attraction. Then I had a sudden odd realization, I felt no jealously. That he wanted her and wanted me seemed perfectly natural. 

"Breakfast was wonderful, you're quite the cook," and because no one else was in ear shot, "Thank you for taking care of Scottie yesterday. It appears he had some new experiences."

Mehgan smiled warmly. "Your son is quite the young man. He just needs a little guidance and experience." She stepped closer to me and smeared a few of drops of olive oil on my palms, rubbing them with her thumbs. Goose bumps ran up my back. 

"Speaking of new experiences, from the noise you two were making last night it seems you were having some of your own."

I had wondered if we were that loud. I guess we were. "I hope we didn't keep you up."

"No, but Mom and I found it quite the turn-on." Her voice, suddenly husky, left little doubt as to what she meant. 

When her head ducked to mine she found my lips parted and welcoming. The kiss was sweet and intense. When she pulled back I leaned forward, trying to lengthen the contact.

"Lauren, if you are still in the mood for new experiences, Mom and I would love to entertain you downstairs."

She took my hand in mine and we headed for the stairs. Nicole was right behind. 

The three of us returned about an hour later. My son was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, enjoying a climax resulting from Theresa and Sally's a double blow-job. When he finally stumbled downstairs he found Sally and Theresa leaning over the table writhing in orgasmic fury while their boys, fucking them from behind, poured their cum inside their Mamas' sweet pussies. 

It was only the ever-sensible Theresa who kept a full scale orgy from breaking out: "Hey, everybody, our guests will be arriving within an hour. We better dial it down."

III

I was walking Lauren and Scott to their car as Theresa greeted the new arrivals. Nicole and Mehgan had left about thirty minutes ago to open the boutique for this one special customer. Instead of leaving Scott with us, Lauren was taking him to the conference. But first they were going to drop by Nicole's shop. Lauren had decided she had far too many practical clothes.

Lauren tossed the keys to her son. 

"You ready to drive, Tiger."

His showed this was a rare treat. "Yeah Mom."

He opened the door for her. After Scott got in I motioned for Lauren lower her window, leaned in, and kissed her, our lips brushing against each other, our tongues touching for too brief a moment.

"When does the conference end?"

"Wednesday afternoon."

"We have the place through the weekend. Why don't you two come back and spend a few days?"

She looked to Scott. His eyes were wide open, trying to figure out whether what he had just seen was real. "What do you think, Tiger?"

"Oh yeah."

IV

Some readers have asked whether any personal experiences underlie this story. They do, although probably in a way unexpected.

I was raised in the Mid-West, but went to college on the West Coast. My mother was from a good Catholic family, she had two sisters and four brothers. One aunt lived south of San Francisco; the other in Dallas. Mom was close to the California sister, not so close to the Dallas sister, who was generally estranged from the family. Most of the communication among family members was by telephone. I didn't know many of my relatives well.

Mom told me to look up the California sister when I got to college. I did. She was deeply into New Age spiritual beliefs. I was nineteen, full of my own bullshit, and decided she was a kook. A nice kook, but a kook. I am now embarrassed by this view, but despite my own lack of accomplishments I was a know-it-all who somehow thought he was smart enough to dismiss a successful stock analyst who had published four well received books on yoga and meditation.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 09



I returned home after my first summer, got a job, and hung out with friends. It was an aimless existence. I was rarely at home; I mostly crashed with my buddies. It took Mom a day to track me down to let me know a Dallas cousin had died in a car crash. This may sound hard-hearted, but I wasn't all that upset. I barely knew the kid and what I remembered I didn't like. However, the California sister decided that all the cousins required grief-therapy and offered to pay for it. I was dismissive of the idea, but Mom told me it was important to my aunt and finally, mostly to make Mom happy, I agreed to go.

I asked around, heard good things about a psychologist in town, and made an appointment. She was thirty-nine and attractive, but not, as I tried to described Theresa and Sally in this story, drop-dead gorgeous. She walked for exercise, had short brown hair, and could have dropped ten pounds. She was on the buxom side. 

About half-way though the first session she agreed that I did not need grief therapy. When I told her I still needed to come for two more sessions, we had a brief discussion about the ethics of accepting money to provide unnecessary care. We decided to donate the fee to a local battered woman's shelter. I tried to convince her that I didn't need to come back and she should keep the money, but she nixed that idea.

I came back for two sessions. We mostly chatted. I found I really liked the woman and thought there was some chemistry between us. After the final session I asked if she wanted to get a cup of coffee. She politely said no and I figured I'd never see her again. 

About two weeks later she called and said if I was still interested in that cup of coffee, she was buying. We met at a place near her house, the conversation flowed freely, and she invited me to her home, where we became lovers. I went from a guy not particularly good with girls and had been laid only twice -- on both occasions both the girl and I were drunk -- to being with an attractive experienced older woman who was playing no games and wanted to fuck non-stop. It was heaven.

I learned she had been divorced for eight years. She initially dated regularly with the hope of finding a father for her son, but the relationships always fizzled. She talked about the general difficultly of a blended marriage, but recognized her biggest problem was that she was unwilling to give anyone else authority over her boy. About four years ago she swore off serious dating until he left for college. When her need for sex became distracting she had a discrete married friend to help her out. When she needed an escort an event or party, she called on a gay friend.

Summer was different. While her son attended a camp in North Carolina for six weeks in July and August she took a younger man as a lover. I was that year's choice. I had to agree our fling ended when the summer did and to keep it a secret. Early on -- it was during the first week -- we were making love when she moaned Timmy, her son's name. I should have been offended, but at that time if you were willing to fuck me, it was near impossible to offend me. I thought about it that night. The idea that she might have a thing for her son turned me on. I was not immune to incestual thoughts. I may have thought my yoga-doing aunt was a kook, but I'd noticed she had a helluva body. I came up with an idea. It was a terrible idea. My new lover had exhibited a kinky/adventuresome side. She liked to talk dirty, we had done anal and deep throat, and she had talked a lot about the other things she wanted to do: role play, public sex, bondage, lingerie. I figured she was up for anything and so I hatched a plan if she mentioned her son again.

A few days later she we were doing it doggy-style and she muttered, "Timmy." I said, "That's right, Timmy loves his mother's sweet cunt," she said, "What!," I said, "Timmy loves his Mama's sweet cunt," and she said, "Are you nuts?" 

I went into complete defensive mode, explaining that she had called me Timmy twice and I thought it was fine and had decided to play along and she started crying. She told me it wasn't my fault, but I had to leave. I started to argue, but she cried harder and I left, thinking how could I have possibly screwed this up.

She called the next day, apologized, and invited me over. When I arrived she handed me a glass of wine and asked me to repeat what she had said. After I did so she confessed that she was intensely attracted to her son, had been for years, didn't know what to do about it, would I "please please" not tell anyone, and asked if I thought she was a pervert. I was smart enough by this point, at least, not to go beyond vague general consoling and held her in my arms. Eventually I lay with her and we fell asleep.

The next day, slightly hung over, she asked me what I thought. I told her she was fine and that if she was nuts so was I because I was stimulated by the idea of her and her son. I guess I did okay. She took me to her bed and we made love most of the day. She later explained how good it felt to finally get it off her chest.

Over the next weeks she and I openly discussed her feelings for her son and frequently role played. Most of Chapter One and a lot of this Chapter of The Therapist's Journey is based on our role playing while on a beach trip. I encouraged her to take her son as her lover. At the time I thought my motives were pure but in retrospect it's clear I did it in part because it turned on both of us, adding fuel to our lovemaking.

As you can imagine, at the end of the six weeks I did not want to leave. I thought I was in love. She reminded me of our agreement. I cried,. She assured me that once I was back with all those of college girls I'd be okay. The next day I returned to the West Coast and found out she was pretty much right. I hit a party the first night and met a chick whose hard body, blonde hair, and tiny shorts would have left me tongue-tied two months ago. We were bed-buddies before the sun came up.

I only dimly realized it then, but time has given me the perspective to understand that her decision to take a different young inexperienced lover each summer was a way to live out her fantasy of seducing her son.

I returned to my hometown at Christmas but kept my word and stayed away. I spent all but the last two weeks of the next summer on the West Coast. When I returned home temptation got the best of me and I drove by her house to find a realtor's sign with "SOLD" on it.

Over the years I've thought of her often and wondered if she got together with her son. When the internet gave me the chance to look them up, I found him immediately. He was an attorney; his firm's web-site showed he had gone to college in Vermont. I had more trouble with her until I realized she had to be licensed. I went to the web-site of the board that licenses psychologists in Vermont and discovered she received her license there in what would have been his first year of college. I guess that doesn't prove they hooked up, but it's reason to hope. I've always liked to imagine they did. 



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 10



Chapter 10 of The Therapist's Journey continues the story of Scottie Stone, who was featured in Chapter 9, and, of course, the Moms.

* * * * 

That the opportunity to teach two summer-school courses was the best thing that had happened to me recently is some indication of the muddle my life had become. I was going to spend three weeks in Europe with Kevin, my long-time boyfriend, but he kept suggesting that we perform at sex clubs across the continent. I kept saying no. Eventually we had one of those fights, the kind where you throw at each other every slight and indignity you've suffered in five years. I told him it was over and then waited for him to apologize and beg me to take him back. 

I stopped waiting when I heard he was going to Europe with his cute little secretary. After that friends started coming out of the woodwork with revelations that he'd been cheating on me for years with an array of different women, including that cute little secretary. Now I had nothing on my schedule besides feeling sorry for myself. When the teacher scheduled to teach calculus and statistics in summer-school had a family emergency and needed someone to fill in, I happily signed up. It would occupy my time and put a few dollars in my pocket.

It was the first day of school. I was wearing teacher clothes: white blouse, black calf-length dress, black glasses, and blonde hair in a pony tail. The class roster included the usual summer-school mix, 25% smart kids trying to get a leg up on the following school year and 75%, well, dunderheads, who had flunked the course during the school year, needed the hours to graduate, etc., etc., etc. A name prominent among the latter was Scottie Stone. 

After my break up with Kevin I had consulted with his mother, Lauren, our town's best psychologist. I wanted to discuss my broken romance and my ex-boyfriend's repeated assertion that I had "sex issues." In our sole session Lauren proved to be as good as advertised, but when she realized I'd be teaching her son she grew concerned. How could she counsel the person who would decide if her son graduated high school? She suggested a colleague, Sally Barry. I knew Sally; she was an impressive woman and her son Brad had been an outstanding student. Sally could not see me immediately, she was in San Francisco with Brad. I made an appointment for the following week.

My reminiscing was interrupted when the student who was, in part, their subject entered the classroom. I was surprised to see Scottie. He usually sauntered into class late and disappeared into the deepest reaches of the back row. He deposited his materials on the center desk in the second row.

"Good morning Miss Alice."

"Good morning Scottie." I glanced at the clock. It confirmed my impression, class would not start for another fifteen minutes. "You're early."

"Yes ma'am, I wanted to grab the best seat."

"Determined to pass?"

"I'm hoping to do better then that. My performance last semester was embarrassing. I've decided to aim higher. I'm looking for the best grade in both classes."

The class roster featured some of the school's smartest kids. My doubts must have been reflected on my face.

"I see you don't believe. How about a bet on it?"

"What do you have in mind?" 

"Well, if I get the best grade in both classes, you go with me to the exhibit on fractals in art at the Museum of Art in New Orleans - you can explain the math to me. If I don't," he paused, "I'll wash your car once a week for the rest of the summer."

I smiled. This kid was not going to get the best grades in both calculus and statistics, much less one of them. He'd be lucky to pass, but he'd soon forget his promise to wash my car. "You're on."

He thanked me and headed out of the classroom. As he disappeared something struck me. What had happened to this kid? He had always been socially insecure and painfully tongue-tied around girls. While most of the boys flirted with me, and I was not above taking advantage of my looks, Scottie could barely put a sentence together around me. Now he was glib. Instead of his usual tee-shirt and gym shorts he was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt. He was well-groomed. Heck, the kid was suddenly good-looking.

* * * *

Summer school turned out to be a pleasure. Teaching good attentive students is a joy. Teaching poor students is not teaching at all, it's managing the disinterested and disrespectful. The positive impression Scottie had made the first day of school turned out to be real. He had become an excellent student. Moreover, he seemed to inspire the dunderheads who became, if not outstanding students, at least much better ones. 

Scottie paid close attention in class. He answered questions confidently. His new wardrobe complemented his good looks. I was not the only one who noticed; girls flocked around him before and after class asking for help with their assignments. At times he would stay after class with me for extra-help, seeming as at ease with me as he'd been uncomfortable a few months before. At times he'd bring me a small thoughtful gift the next day to say thanks.

On most days he and I chatted, mostly about school, but he managed to work in a word or two of praise, noting how well my shoes worked with my outfit, before turning the conversation back to class. One day I briefly touched on the controversy over whether Isaac Newton or Gottfried Leibniz invented calculus: he sat down with me after class the next day to discuss the answer. The boy who had recently led the classroom in childish humor was now refined, smart, confident, mature, interesting.

* * * * 

I had refrained from dating since Kevin and I broke up. Not that I didn't have admirers, men always noticed me. I'm kind of a cliche: 27 years old, five feet five inches tall, 115 pounds, thick wavy blonde hair to my shoulder blades, brown eyes, fair skin, 36-25-36 with still firm "C's," and slim waist and wide hips, a classic hourglass figure. I stay in shape; my best friend Jodi is my personal trainer. The break-up, however, was new to me: men didn't dump me, I dumped men. That Kevin had been cheating on me with his secretary, among others, was humiliating. I also found, somewhat to my surprise, that I didn't miss him that much. Over the last eighteen months our relationship had gotten pretty dysfunctional. Even the sex, although it was still good, often seemed dirty. He had wanted to add new twists to our sex life, lots of role plays, dressing me up in lingerie, suggesting threesomes, lesbian liaisons, the works. While it would turn me on, sometimes fiercely, later I'd feel a bit gross about it, as if he had not been making love to me, but to a fantasy. Before I got back into dating I wanted to sort out my feelings.

Sally Berry returned from her trip the second week of summer school. I saw her on Thursday. She was, as always, dressed immaculately, wearing a mid-length black skirt and white blouse. She asked me if she could tape the session, expressed her regret that I couldn't continue to see Dr. Stone, and apologized that she had not been able to see me immediately. And then, with a few gentle questions, she began to coax my history from me. The story soon poured out of me. When it did I was surprised by how much I talked about sex.

At the end of the session Sally sat next to me and placed a hand on my knee. Her touch was comforting. 

"I know right now you feel like some sort of weird-o, but you're not. You're asking the kind of questions many of us ask and I feel sorry for those who don't, those who never wonder about the place of sex in their lives and relationships."

She took my hand in hers.

"I would like to discuss your situation with Dr. Stone."

"I thought you two had already talked."

"She only told me she had a referral. She didn't tell me her thoughts. She didn't want to influence how I approached you. But your having seen both of us does provide a unique opportunity. At this point I would love the benefit of Dr. Stone's observations." 

Was I getting two for the price of one? "Sure, feel free to talk to her."

* * * *

At our next session Sally focused on sex. "Last time you told me that Kevin's suggestions both aroused you and disturbed you. That, for example, you enjoyed role playing while you did it, but the next day you'd, in part, regret it. The problem I'm having is that I can't pull apart your feelings from their context."

I'm sure I look confused. She went on.

"Let's take an easy example. You said that after Kevin hired a pretty young secretary he wanted you to role play a scenario in which he seduced and tied up his secretary. If Kevin had not just hired a good looking secretary, it might be an innocent fantasy. However, he had and when your were play acting you wondered, quite naturally, whether he was thinking of her, not you, or even worse, whether he was engaging in a test run for something he intended to do. The question I have is whether what troubled you was the role play or Kevin's potential, and now we know real, infidelity."

I saw her point, but I didn't hear a solution. "So what's next?"

"During our session you mentioned watching pornography with Kevin. You didn't seem offended by it. I am reading you correctly?" 

"Early on we watched it together. I actually enjoyed it. It spiced things up."

She handed me a box of dvd's. The first one is a relaxation exercise I've designed. The rest of what was called Swedish instructional videos about fifteen years ago. I'd call them porn."

"Listen to the relaxation tape while drinking a warm glass of the tea. Then watch as much or little as you like of the instructional videos. After you do so e-mail me your impressions - just three or four sentences.

"There is no right or wrong answer. The videos may repulse you or you might find them fascinating. You may hate some and love others or, after awhile, find them all boring. The idea is to relax and free your mind when you watch them. Let your feelings be your guide, whether they call you to a nunnery or further experimentation."

That evening I took a long warm bath and then, wearing just a robe, listened as Sally's voice guided me through the relaxation exercises. I then selected "Lingerie and Dildos," a film, if the description could be trusted, featuring women bringing themselves off with sex toys. It seemed the safest of the bunch.

Free of distractions I watched a series of beautiful women, dressed in classy, often stunning lingerie, masturbate with an array of sex toys. In the pornography I watched with Kevin the women often seemed slutty. The women in this film were elegant. After half an hour I surrendered to the inevitable and ran a finger up my labia, spreading the lubrication dripping from my pussy. I cupped my breast with my other hand, teasing my nipple with my thumb. It was nice; there was no hurry. I brought myself to a series of small orgasms in time with the woman on the screen.

In the film's climax two beautiful blondes in evening gowns were returning from a dinner date with two drunk boyfriends. The men passed out. One woman gestured the other to follow her upstairs. They entered a lovely feminine bedroom. The hostess opened a drawer containing an array of sex toys. The ladies stripped to their underwear: sheer bras, panties, garters, and stockings, and brought each other off with the toys. In the final scene the women, their legs locked in a scissors pattern, exploded in orgasm as they slid a huge double-headed dildo in-and-out of each other. I came when they did. My orgasm was fantastic.

I stumbled to my computer, went to the Adam & Eve web-site, and ordered some sex toys. I paid for the overnight shipping; just because I was off men didn't mean I couldn't have a good time. I then sent Sally this message:

"Just watched 'Lingerie and Dildos.' Found it incredibly erotic. I ordered some sex toys. Thanks."

* * * *

In the shower the next morning I couldn't get the film out of my mind. I brought myself off twice. I opened the drawer in which I kept the lingerie Kevin had bought me. I considered a sexy Merry Widow, but that might be a bit much for the classroom. I settled on black stockings, panties, and a garter. My skirt fell a few inches above my knees. No one would know.

We were approaching the semester's end and the summer heat was reflected in the classroom's doldrums. Still, memories of last night's film kept flashing in my head. That, and the knowledge of what I was wearing underneath my teacher clothes, primed an incessant buzz between my legs. I decided to distract myself. I called for a volunteer to work some issues out in front of the class. Scottie's hand went up.

I sat at my desk as he worked the problems. When I asked a question he looked back at me. His eyes flashed a momentary surprise before they locked on my eyes. What had he seen? When he turned back to the board I glanced down. What caught his attention was obvious. My skirt had pulled up over the top of my stockings, revealing them and the straps holding them to my garter belt.

I felt a frisson of excitement at this unintended tease. I contemplated straightening my skirt, but the only one who could have possibly seen me was Scottie and that damage had already been done. I found the idea that I had inadvertently flashed him arousing and so, for the moment, decided to play the innocent.

After Scottie finished his work he again looked back at me, his eyes covertly scanning my peep show before settling on my face. When he leaned against my desk to explain his work, he placed a hand on his thigh and drew it up about two inches. For everyone else in the class it was a random fidget, but I knew what he was signaling. This game had started innocently, but I was hooked. I placed a hand on my skirt and raised it to within an inch of my panties, displaying legs and lingerie. Scottie took in the show, but with a peek so subtle as to be indecipherable to anyone but he and I.

After class he approached me. "Care to up the ante on our bet?" he asked.

He had not mentioned our bet since the first day of school. I had assumed it was forgotten. Obviously, not.

I brushed the hair away from my eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, when we go to the museum, you wear stockings and garters like you have on today."

"You like a girl in lingerie?" I asked, wondering what high school girls were wearing as undergarments.

"I prefer woman in lingerie." There was a sexy challenge to his voice. 

"And if you lose?" I asked, a slight tremor in mine.

He took a moment, feigning, at least, that he had not contemplated the possibility. "I take you shopping at Victoria's Secret."

I stepped closer and lay my hand on his upper arm. Nicely built, I thought. "And how do you know I won't cheat and give you a low grade just to win."

"Ms. Alice, it's hard to believe a woman of your charms doesn't have guys lined up to wash her car or take her shopping for something sexy."

While I was slightly taken aback by his directness, I was pleased by the compliment. I extended my hand. "Deal." 

As we shook he covered our clasped hands with his free hand. I felt a quiver run through my body. Thank god, I thought, I asked for expedited delivery of my Adam & Eve order. 

After Scottie left I went to the bathroom, removed my panties, and stuffed them in my purse. When I pulled out of the school parking lot I pressed the knuckle of my index finger just above my clitoris. A gasp of air exploded from my lungs. I kept up the pressure all the way home, not enough to come, but enough to keep me at hovering at a pitched state of arousal. When I got home I found, thank god, the Adam & Eve package on my doorstep. I stepped inside, took off my shoes, skirt, and blouse, leaving me in only the lingerie, and put on four inch heels. I checked myself out in a full length mirror. Not bad. 

I opened the box and found the two items I wanted: a slim flexible six inch white dildo and a rose colored fingertip vibrator whose silicone nubs promised hours of pleasure. I coated the dildo with lubricant and looked at myself in the mirror. Was that horny bitch really me? I watched myself fit the head of the dildo to my vagina. The urge to shove it in was strong, but the urge to watch while I slowly fucked myself stronger. I pushed the first inch in. Pleasure shot through my body. I held it in place, shutting my eyes to focus on the joy erupting in my cunt. As my breathing calmed down and my chest stopped pounding, I looked again. Five inches of dildo dangled from my sex. I pushed it in, slowly, incrementally, soaring on the twin highs of filling my hungry cunt with the plastic cock and watching myself do it. 

Once the dildo was inside me I turned on the vibrator and ran it in a "U" around my clit. My clittie swelled and stood at attention, poking its pink head from its protective hood. My cunt, as if on its own, clamped down on the dildo. The vibrations merged with the pulsations from my vagina. I had wanted to make this last awhile, but it was hopeless. Watching myself in the mirror, I felt the orgasm coming on like a freight train. I had neither the will nor the inclination to get out of the way.

I placed a finger on the base of the dildo, rotating it around inside of me, and then moved the vibrator directly to my clit.

"Ohhhhh..., oohhhhhhhh..., ooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh..., ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,,,' yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss...," I screamed. My mind was filled with a blinding light, followed by sheets in a kaleidoscope of colors. My body tensed and the incredible pressure that filled my abdomen released. I fell back on the bed, breathing deeply, my mind scrambled by the pleasure ringing through my body, lodging in places I had not thought an orgasm could go. After some minutes I forced myself up on my elbows and looked at the hot little number in the mirror.

"Oh girl, you and I have some experimenting to do."

After dinner I returned to the Adam & Eve box and unwrapped the g-spot vibrator. While I'd heard of the g-spot, I wasn't quite sure I believed there was a g-spot. If I had one it had managed to evade every lover I'd known. I cleaned and lubed the vibrator and slipped it inside me, setting it on low and using the muscles of my twat to move it around. It felt nice, very nice, but still I didn't think I'd hit pay dirt. I then set a bullet vibrator on low and after briefly running it above my clitoris, I brought it to my left breast, dragging it along the underside. I felt the stimulation throughout my boob, which sighed in happy contentment. I explored my other breast, avoiding my nipples. Soon my sweet titties were filled with a joy that leaked throughout my body. 

My cunt was juicing up. My pussy twitched as the vibrator moved around inside me. I reached down to guide it and felt a sharp joy several inches inside my vagina, something I had not felt before. It began as an urge to pee, but quickly turned into a deep, subtle pleasure. I had found my g-spot. I sank back into the pillows and returned the vibrator to my breasts, working around my bright red areolas before touching my nipples. The sharp pangs of pleasure radiating from them combined with the deeper sensations growing inside my cunt. 

Why had I not invested in sex toys years ago?

When my breasts could sustain no more stimulation I ran the vibrator down my body and used it on my thighs, occasionally pressing it to my perineum. The feeling merged with that from my g-spot, creating a single happy buzz throughout my sex. This went on for who knows how long, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, forty-five, until the sensations were near overwhelming. My g-spot felt like it occupied my entire cunt. Cunt cunt cunt. I rolled the word around in my head, loving its vulgarity. I was a hot cunt. 

It was time. I moved the vibrator to my clitoris and while flexing the muscles of my vagina, which sent pulses of pleasure throughout me, I worked the vibrator around my clit and then laid it on the hood, trapping the sweet nubbin underneath. My cunt convulsed. With my other hand I pushed the vibrator against my g-spot. Ohmigod, did that feel good. I turned up the power on the finger vibrator and returned it to my clit.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 10



I looked at the woman in the mirror; she was wantonly rocking her hips in time with the toys. I felt the pressure increase inside me. I was ready to explode. I flipped up the power on both vibrators and it suddenly happened; my orgasm slammed into me. My deep guttural moans filled the room and my body felt like it was on overload; all my systems were about to short-circuit.

And then I felt another thing I'd never felt before. I looked in the mirror. A thick liquid was leaking from my vagina. I was squirting. I returned my head to the pillow, floating in a sea of sensations. I was filled with light, euphoric energy, all negative emotions banished. I felt fulfillment, peace. The room smelled like sex; it smelled good. I smiled: if Kevin running off with his secretary could lead me to this, well, he could be forgiven. I had started to drift off into a deep contented sleep when I remembered that Sally had asked that I send her short messages immediately after events. With my little remaining volition I rolled over and sent her a text.

"Sally, I wore sexy lingerie today. Even flashed somebody. It's an incredible turn-on. Used sex toys tonight. Amazing orgasms. Look forward to next movie. Love Eve."

* * * * *

I woke up the next day, my body awash in the sensations from the night before. There was only one full day of school left, final exams were set for tomorrow. I was going to devote the day to exam preparation. I was feeling very sexy. I put on a lacy black bra with a matching garter, stockings, and panties. I admired myself in the mirror. I imagined standing before the class in stiletto heels, a mini-skirt, and something tight up top, but saner thoughts prevailed. I found a tweed shawl-collar jacket and pencil skirt and secured the outfit with a black belt and then, what the hell, put on three and one-half inch heels. 

As the second class let out I caught Scottie's eye. He got the message. He lingered behind talking to some of the other kids in the hall. I turned my back to the door, ostensibly erasing the board, but taking the opportunity to loosen my belt and open my jacket, exposing some cleavage. I sat on my desk, my legs dangling from its side. Scottie wandered back in.

"Good luck tomorrow."

He approached me, standing close enough so that my swinging feet bumped his legs. He did not stare, but definitely caught a hint of my bra. "Thanks. It looks like you're getting ready to lose our bet."

I checked the hallway. It was clear. I hiked up my skirt, displaying my stockings and garters. "Maybe I'm just trying to inspire you to study harder."

Scottie glanced down, taking in my display. He did not stare or leer.

"Consider me inspired."

Scottie walked me to my car, opening my door for me. I sped home fingering my clit. I rummaged through Sally's movies and picked out "Housewife or Whore." I turned on my finger vibrator for a long indulgent masturbation and watched an attractive red-head applying make-up at a vanity in a bedroom. She was beautiful, the vanity was beautiful, the bedroom was beautiful. There was the sound of a door opening and a man walked in. He was beautiful. As they undressed she asked him about his day at work. Then they made love, crazy passionate intense love. Jesus, why didn't someone fuck me like that.

The next morning he left for work; she looked bored. The phone rang, she wrote down an address, and she left to meet a man. He handed her an envelope with cash in it. They made love. 

I thought of a game Kevin and I had played. He had spent a week at a Las Vegas convention and related how some of his fellow attendees had perused the local call girls. He said he wanted to role play the same thing with me. He had me contact a person in concierge's office to get permission to work the hotel in exchange for a fifty-fifty fee spilt. While I was having a drink in the lounge Kevin approached me and took me to his room where I sucked his dick. Before I left the room he gave me a generous tip and the concierge handed me $75.00 on my way out. Later Kevin said he had slipped the concierge several hundred dollars to play along. Had the experience been more real than Kevin had let on? 

I went on-line and found blogs from women who reported that for the money and the thrill they occasionally worked as prostitutes at hotels in deals with the hotel staff. I sat back, trying to recall the name of the concierge and "code" I was supposed to use. Neither would come to me. I got into the shower and shaved my legs. The details filtered back into my memory.

I looked up the number of the Roosevelt Hotel and called. I asked for Fernando in the concierge's office. 

He answered promptly.

"Fernando, you probably don't remember me, my name is...," I drew a blank, what was the name I had used? "Tiffany. About a year ago I came by looking for a job teaching aerobics, but you had no openings. You were very kind, you asked the bartender to pour me a drink. I was wondering if I could re-apply."

"We look like were full tonight, but you can come by. How about 6:00."

"I'll see you then."

I checked the hotel's web-site. It didn't offer aerobics.

I got out my hottest red dress. It was sleeveless. It fit my upper body snugly before opening up and falling just below my knees. Its most spectacular feature was large diamond shaped opening that displayed a generous view of my cleavage. I painted my shortish nails red, fixed my hair and make-up, put on black four inch stiletto heels, and headed for the city.

When I entered the hotel I was struck, as always, by its beauty. It had been built in 1893 with a level of craftsmanship unknown today. The ornate lobby featured fifty foot ceilings. At the front desk I was directed to concierge's office where I was met by a young man. I handed him a crisp $50.00 bill and asked for Fernando. I had recalled that Fernando did not entertain guests without an entrance fee. Happily, his rates had not gone up. The young man gave me a long appreciative look, disappeared for a few minutes, and returned to usher me into Fernando's "office," which was more cubby-hole than anything else. I looked around; I remembered the room. Fernando entered.

I sat on a proffered chair and crossed my legs. My dress rose above my knees. Fernando studied me. Finally he said, "I don't remember you. I think I would remember you."

"On my prior visit it was for one particular customer. I was not as enthusiastic. I wore a brown wig and did not doll myself up."

"Who was the customer?"

I thought for a second. I couldn't think of a reason not to disclose his identity. "Kevin, Kevin Jones."

Although he feigned indifference, Fernando clearly recognized the name. Had Kevin been more frequent purveyor of Fernando's services than he let on? 

"I do not know him," and then changing subjects, "Do you have any restrictions on your services?"

"I have heard that some receiving private aerobics instruction expect the instructor to work with their entire body. I provide oral training only."

Fernando was non-plussed. "Very good. We have space for you tonight. Your customers will pay us. The charge will be the usual one hundred fifty," he stopped and scanned me again, "make that two hundred dollars per lesson. The house gets 60%. You keep your tips. Agreed."

I was confident that Fernando could tell I was a novice. I didn't know enough to know whether, or how much, I was getting ripped off. "Agreed."

He handed me a clipboard and what appeared to be a job application. "Please fill it out in the lounge upstairs. Bobby will pour you a drink."

I picked up the application and headed out the door. The Sazerac lounge was stunning. I took a seat at the bar. Bobby, a distinguished looking man of, I would guess, fifty, prepared a martini. I took a sip. Excellent. I looked at the application. Where it asked my name I wrote Tiffany Case.

Bobby returned a minute later, gesturing with his eyes to the right. I turned to see a thin man, maybe six feet tall, probably in his mid-fifties. He was nervous.

"I was told..." He wasn't sure how to go on.

I placed a hand on his shoulder guiding him to the stool next to mine. "That I teach aerobics. That is true. Tell me," I paused, waiting for him to provide his name. He stared back. I realized that the last thing a man would want to tell a whore was his name. 

"No, no, let me guess. A man as sexy as you would be called," I took a second, "Alfredo. I will call you Alfredo."

He seemed relieved, but continued to just look at me. Like me, he was a novice; he didn't know how to proceed. I wasn't sure either, but I took my best shot.

"Alfredo, are you staying at the hotel?"

"Yes, I'm here on a convention."

"I hear the rooms are lovely but, you know, I've never seen one. Would you be a dear and show me yours?"

"Yes, yes, oh yes, very much, yes."

I turned to Bobby, who smiled at my mark's obvious enthusiasm. "See you soon darling."

We took an elevator to the fifth floor. I tried to keep the conversation light, but Alfredo, obviously feeling guilty, chatted about his wife and kids and how he'd never done anything like this before. I believed him.

We entered his room; it was lovely.

"I hear, they said, you use your mouth. My wife, she doesn't, she won't."

I walked up to him and placed my forearms on his shoulders, my breasts firmly pressed against his chest. I tousled his hair. "Well, Alfredo, I do, but not for everyone. I do it only for very special cocks." I started to undo his belt. "I can't wait to see yours."

I pushed him back on to the bed and pulled down his pants. His penis was about five inches long and strikingly thin. While my first instinct was disappointment, I liked them bigger than this, I realized this was the perfect cock for sucking. A woman could use her mouth on it and never worry about straining her jaw or nicking it with her teeth. 

"Oh, Alfredro, you have a wonderful penis."

He smiled, relaxing under the influence of my enthusiasm. I took hold of his penis. Pre-cum was dripping out. This was one excited man. I kissed the tip and his sharp groan filled the room. He would not last long. I took hold of the base with my thumb and forefinger and, without letting it touch my lips, dropped my mouth over him until it bumped the back of my mouth. I clamped my lips on it and slowly dragged my head up while running my hand up the side of his body. Alfredo's thighs began shaking; he arched his back. 

"Oooh, ooohhhhh, ooooohhhhhhh, yes, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." He came in my mouth.

A fifteen second blow job didn't seem like the greatest service in the world, but Alfredo's face glowed. "All my life I have dreamed of a beautiful woman using her mouth on me. It was wonderful." I listened for a few minutes as he praised me, then let him know I needed to get back downstairs. He handed me an envelope. "I am told it is customary to tip in these circumstances." As I took the elevator back down I peeked inside at a crisp $100.00 bill.

When I returned to the Sazerac, Bobby guided me to the employee's bathroom. I gargled, brushed my teeth, found an empty stool, and we resumed our conversation. He was a charming witty man and, I decided, probably a pretty good fuck. In less than ten minutes Bobby nodded his head to my left. There stood a somewhat overweight nattily dressed black man in his mid-forties. 

"Madam, do you mind if I sit next to you."

"Not at all. Care to join me in a drink?"

"I would love to, but I am in something of a hurry. I have a dinner appointment with an important customer in ninety minutes and I need something to relieve the tension. I thought some exercise might help."

"Is your room large enough to accommodate us?" 

"I believe it is."

I looked back at Bobby, who smiled, and then followed this new mark from the bar. I noted he wore a wedding ring and, oddly, it was only at that moment that the enormity of what I was doing struck me. I was a whore. I had never had sex with a married man or a black man or, for that matter, a total stranger. Now I was on my second in half-an-hour. I felt my sex swell. I liked it. 

The elevator came to a stop. I followed my john to his room. He carefully removed his shoes, socks, pants, which he scrupulously hung up, and his underwear. And there it was. It would be another first, an uncircumcised penis. He sat in a chair and I knelt before him on the luxurious carpet. I peeled his foreskin back and was immediately struck by the strong fishy smell. There was a cheesy substance under the foreskin. I had always demanded my sexual partner be clean and well-scrubbed, but somehow I found this man's grittiness a turn-on. I guess a good whore takes her customers as she finds them. I used the tip of my tongue to capture his smegma and made a display of swallowing it.

"Your cock is mighty tasty, sir."

"Most of the girls don't," he stopped, realizing he was acknowledging that I was not the first woman paid to suck his dick, "seem to appreciate it."

I didn't answer except to open wide and take him into my mouth. I ran my tongue along the ridge where his foreskin attached to the penis, enjoying the warm musky taste. I popped him out of my mouth and licked the length of his shaft before taking the head back into my mouth, furiously using my lips and tongues on him.

He was getting excited, very excited. He was wheezing and groaning. He'd last longer than Alfredo, but not by much. He placed his hand on my head, but gently, not trying to force my mouth onto his cock or control my movements. I cradled his balls, rolling them with my fingers, and then felt them withdraw into his scrotum. He moaned once and came. I blocked the channel though which sperm flowed with my thumb, drawing out and intensifying his orgasm. I swallowed and stood. He remained in his chair, breathing heavily.

"Thank you very much young lady. It was delightful. You will find an envelope on the dresser my the door. It is for you. I hope you will forgive me for not showing you to the door, but at my age it takes several moments to recover."

I thanked him for his kindness and let myself out. I peeked inside the envelope on the way down. Another $100.00 bill. Was that the going rate?

Bobby once again ushered me to the employee's bathroom and I returned to the bar and a new martini. Over the next forty-five minutes I serviced two more gentlemen. Both these men, like the first two, seemed nervous and came quickly. One hundred dollars also seemed to be the standard tip. After the fourth I checked my watch; I had to make sure the final exams were ready to go tomorrow, but figured I had time for one more assignation. I was chatting with Bobby when he looked over my shoulder.

"You must give great head."

"I try. What's going on?"

"Mr. Yamaguchi just entered the room and is looking at you."

"And he is?"

"He is the Chief Executive Officer of Dot Commodity, one of Japan's largest commodity trading firms. He is a frequent guest of our hotel. In fact, our largest suite is on permanent lease to his company. He is, I am told, a connoisseur of blow-jobs. If Fernando has recommended you to him, Fernando is getting good reports on you."

So, I was a skilled whore. There was a warm feeling between my legs.

Bobby, still looking at the man behind me, reached under the counter and handed me a key. 

"Go to the express elevator behind the concierge's desk. When the elevator arrives insert this key in the keyhole under the Suite A tag. He likes to be called Mr. Yamaguchi. Let me know how it goes."

I followed the instructions and the elevator opened up into a magnificent suite. Standing in

the living room was an impeccably dressed, handsome man. He held two flutes of champagne. He handed me one. We toasted, taking a sip. I am no expert on champagne, but this was best stuff I'd ever tasted. He started to disrobe, laying his clothes neatly on a table. I was not sure what the expectation was for me, but I figured what the hell, I'd been showing off the girls all night. I undid the button on my collar and the dress fell open, revealing my breasts. I removed my pushup bra. The hours I spent in they gym showed. They stood firm and round on the front of my chest; the nipples angled slightly upwards. My areolas were a rosy red; the nipples a deeper hue of the same color. 

Mr. Yamaguchi's eyes took in my chest. "Your breasts are absolutely lovely. You must be proud." There was nothing salacious about his comment; he sounded like a man admiring a work of art. I blushed.

He noticed. "You're not a professional, then?"

"No."

"My name is Yamaguchi. I prize my anonymity."

Was this a veiled threat if I publicized his dalliances with whores? Of that he need not worry. I had my own secret life. "My name is Tiffany Case. So do I."

He smiled. It was a confident smile. It suddenly seemed important that I please this man. 

He took off his shirt, revealing a flat hairless chest. Very nice.

"Please let me help you." I went to one knee and untied a shoe, before lifting his leg and removing it. I ran my hand along his well-developed muscular calf. I did the same with the other shoe. Still kneeling, I undid his belt and pulled it free. He was well-hung. After the men I'd serviced that night it would be nice to play with a full-sized cock. I unfastened his pants and pulled down the zipper, reaching inside to fondle what was indeed an impressive erection and a preternaturally large set of balls. Mr. Yamaguchi who, up to this time, had been nothing but an exemplar of propriety and good manners, moaned.

I pulled down his pants and underwear. He stepped out them. His cock was free, swinging from left to right. I kissed the tip and then planted a short sweet peck on his scrotum.

"Your penis, Mr. Yamaguchi, its lovely." His up-til-now inscrutable countenance cracked; a smile formed on his face. "Thank you." Prostitutes apparently sing the praises of every man's penis, regardless of size, cleanliness, or durability. Mr. Yamaguchi understood that this whore meant what she said.

Mr. Yamaguchi took my hand and led me, my exposed breasts swaying, to the suite's bedroom. It featured a massive four poster canopy bed. He lay down. I crawled onto the bed and took hold of his penis. I kissed the tip once before letting it roll against my face, immersing myself in its scent, warmth, hardness, letting my soft hair caress it. I pressed it against my breasts and then folded my breasts around it, enveloping it in the warmth of my firm flesh. When a drop of pre-cum emerged, I caught it with a finger tip and licked it off. Eager for more I ran my thumb along the underside of his penis, pushing a few more drops out of his shaft. For these I put on a bit of a show, taking a long slow lick across the crown. I kept me eyes on Mr. Yamaguchi's face, watching his sweet happy reaction. 

I opened my mouth wide, laid my tongue against the roof of my mouth, and sank my face over his tool. It slid against the underside of my tongue. I repeatedly wiped my tongue over the head of his cock. I took my time, letting his cock luxuriate in the wet warmness of my mouth.

Mr. Yamaguchi half-moaned, half purred. "Hmmmmmmmm," and started gently pumping his erection in my mouth, his movements slow and precise.

As I kept running my tongue across the head of his cock I coddled his immense testicles. He jumped. He liked that! I pressed my lips hard around the shaft and pulled back until the head of his penis popped from my mouth. I tugged his ball sac forward and took a testicle in my mouth, sucking it with the gentlest of force. He gasped and sharply sucked in some air. His head dropped back to a pillow and he started murmuring something softly. I could not make out the words; it must have been Japanese.

I switched to the other testicle while scratching his perineum with a wet fingernail. His cock jumped.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 10



After finishing the second testicle I licked his ball sac, covering it with my spittle. I tongued the spot where his shaft merged with his balls before capturing it between my lips and sucking on it. Mr. Yamaguchi's entire body quivered; his toes curled. He liked that! I returned to the crown of his penis. I locked my eyes on his and holding his shaft, inserted the tip of my tongue in his meatus—that's the hole on the tip of a man's cock —and applied medium pressure. Mr. Yamaguchi's cock jerked in my hand. He let out a grunt of pleasure that required no translation.

As I worked Mr. Yamaguchi's cock I contemplated my situation - the school teacher as whore. It was thrilling. My pussy started burning, my breasts swelled. I wanted to be the best prostitute Mr. Yamaguchi, and I was sure he'd known many, had ever known. I spit out his tool and looked him straight in the eye. "Mr. Yamaguchi, you have a wonderful cock. I love sucking it."

I took him back in my mouth. With a vice-grip on his shaft, I covered my teeth with my lips and worked the ridge where the cock head met the shaft. His dick trembled in my mouth. He softly ran his hand through my hair. His breathing intensified and juice started bubbling from his shaft. I slipped a finger into my mouth, using the tip to massage the underside of his penis, and took in inch after inch until most of his cock was buried in my face. Mr. Yamaguchi watched, but occasionally glanced at what I realized were mirrors strategically placed around the room, giving him a view from an array of angles. I let out a moan, half-human, half-animal, all wanton.

My entire body was writhing in sensual pleasure. I moved my hips up and down in simulated intercourse with an invisible cock.

Mr. Yamaguchi started thrusting harder into my mouth. His hands became more aggressive, holding my head in position as he pushed into my mouth. Then, seemingly surprised by his own loss of control, he let go of my head. That I did not like. I placed his hands back on my head, pleading with him with my eyes to take control. Mr. Yamaguchi again started jabbing his cock into my mouth. I relaxed my jaw. My tongue worked relentlessly.

When I started rolling Mr. Yamaguchi's enormous balls with my fingers I felt his scrotum tighten and testicles retreat into his body. I massaged the underside of his cock with my thumb. Mr. Yamaguchi knew he was getting close. He lifted his head. I stared back at him. I was a cock sucking whore and I loved it!

His groans merged into each other. He grabbed the bedding, his body stiffened, and his movement in my mouth became erratic. Then his chest shuddered and he rammed his cock into my face, pouring cum into my mouth in quantities I would have thought impossible. I kept working his manhood until finally he said something in Japanese. It's meaning was clear: stop, please stop. I reached into my mouth, capturing the remnant of his ejaculation on two fingers and smeared it on my nipples. He stared with eager eyes. I held his head and, as if he was a child, brought his mouth to my breasts, where he licked and sucked his seed from them.

We lay together for a few minutes. Finally he said, "In the bathroom there is some mouthwash and toothpaste for you."

I looked at him, genuine fondness on my face. I gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I would like to keep the taste of you in my mouth a while longer."

Mr. Yamaguchi stood unsteadily, retrieved a robe, and handed me an envelope. I put it and my bra in my purse and re-attached the collar button of my dress.

"You are an extraordinary woman. Is there a way for me to contact you when next I am in the United States?"

Half-teasing, half-serious, I replied, "I thought we wanted to preserve anonymity."

"I do. If you say no I will respect that."

I thought for a second. "How about this. Talk to Bobby at the bar. He'll know how to find me."

"Very good."

On the way down I peeked in the envelope. There were ten crisp $100.00 bills. Being a call girl had its benefits. I would most definitely return Mr. Yamaguchi's call.

At the bar Bobby poured me a martini. I checked my watch. 

"This will be it for the night Bobby. I have to get ready for my day job."

"I'll let them know."

Bobby made an excellent drink. I enjoyed our conversation and wondered what he'd be like in bed. When I finished, and it was good to finally finish one, Bobby said, "You don't need to go home tonight. You could spend the night with me."

I was tempted, but I did have school the next day and did we whores just give it away? 

I dragged a fingernail across the back of his hand. "The offer is tempting, but I have to be up first thing in the morning. Maybe another time. Can I call you here?"

His amiable face lit up. "Yes. And, my the way, you should be aware your ladies are at full attention."

I glanced at the mirror behind the bar. He was right. My nipples were clearly outlined in the fabric of the tight red dress. When had he see them? His gaze had never left my face. I thought about how people's eyes would be on them, and me, when I left the bar. My already overheated pussy spasmed again. I got up. My face was impassive. My body was on fire.

I went to see Fernando. He handed me an envelope with $500.00 in it. I slid $400.00 into my purse and returned the envelope to him with instructions to give it to Bobby as a tip.

Fernando was no Bobby, he couldn't take his eyes off my breasts. "I had excellent reports on you." And then, his voice hesitant, he added, "It is customary for the boss to get something for free at the end of the evening." Bobby had warned me this was coming. I laughed, not a vindictive mean laugh, but a laugh as if he was making a sweet joke. "Now, now, Fernando, you know the house doesn't let me give it away." I kissed him on the cheek, allowing him a close-up peek of my boobs. 

Fernando, now serious, said, "We're small potatoes here. We provide limited services because a few guests at the hotel demand it. There are bigger operations in the city where the girls make thousands of dollars a night. If you're interested I have contacts with them."

"Would you get a finder's fee Fernando?"

"Of course."

"I'll consider your proposal, but I really like my day job. Am I welcome back here?"

"Yes, most certainly, yes."

I left. I was $1,750.00 richer. I was also a whore. It felt great.

When I got in my car I removed my panties and reached for a brown sack on the floor. Once on the highway I slipped the seven inch dildo into my snatch. I twice pulled over to let a thundering orgasm wash over me. At home, in the shower, I brought myself to a third orgasm with my fingers. Before crawling into bed I sent Sally a message: 

"Watched 'Housewife or Whore' and then, you're not going to believe this, worked as a call girl at a hotel. It was amazing!!"

I turned out the light, wondering how to spend the money my talented mouth had made me.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 11



I woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed. I had slept in a bit, so I grabbed a protein bar and headed to school to make sure the final examinations were ready. I would not be allowed to monitor the tests. Some years before a teacher had been caught coaching her students during finals to improve their scores (and her evaluation based on those scores). Interns now sat in on the tests. I took the opportunity to make an appointment with Jodi, my personal trainer and high school friend, for a late morning work-out.

After we were done Jodi and I sat at the cabana, sipping on smoothies. Jodi is, and was, spectacular looking. She was wearing a form-fitting black leotard, which form-fitted itself to a powerful, well-muscled, trim body and a set of ginormous boobs. She kept her hair short, but her dark eyes, perfect nose, and thick lips were unmistakably feminine. She had been among my friends most vocal in their dislike of Kevin. Not that she objected to taking sexual partners outside of marriage, she and her husband, a former Navy Seal, did regularly. I had been declining their invitations to join them in bed for years. She just objected when one partner played around while demanding fidelity from the other.

"What are your plans tonight?" she asked.

"My bother and I are going to dinner at my parents."

"You still moping over Kevin, honey?"

If you only you knew, I thought.

"I'm actually doing better than I thought I would."

"Your Dad still gorgeous?"

Most of my girlfriends incessantly teased me about my Dad. He was unquestionably a handsome man. He kept himself up: trim and in shape, he was invariably well-dressed, teeth brushed, breath fresh, nails immaculate. His silver hair was always in place. His age proclaimed that he was experienced, determined, and rigorous, not old. Dad stood straight and confident, spoke without profanity, and treated everyone around him with respect. Even the most circumspect of the fathers from among my circle of girlfriends could be caught leering at one of us on occasion. Several made little effort to hide it. Dad had a way of letting a woman know she was beautiful, but never stared. It didn't hurt his image that he and Mom, who had also retained her looks, clearly adored each other.

I had always resisted my friends' teasing about my Dad, denying that I noticed his good looks, but what was the point, he was. "Yes."

"How's your brother? I heard he and Julie broke up. Don't worry, she'll be back."

Julie had my brother hooked. She was one of those Crazy Hot Chicks. Beautiful and sexy, wild and fun, you sensed she was the Tasmanian Devil in bed. She was also nuts. The kind of girl who'd throw a tantrum in a crowded restaurant for no reason and to whom you better not provide your keys, e-mail password, checkbook location, or anything else with which she could do damage when she stormed out because you mentioned an old girlfriend's name. Julie and Hank were on break-up number two. There'd be more.

"Yeah, that's what were afraid of." 

"I saw your brother recently, he's grown into quite the hunk. I remember when he was just your kid brother trying to peek at us while we were changing clothes or modeling lingerie."

That I remembered well. Whenever I had girlfriends over Hank would lurk around, trying to catch us in various stages of undress. At first I refused to believe it, but eventually, and after catching him a couple of times myself, I conceded the point. It didn't help that I had a number of friends, Jodi included, that had a hint of the exhibitionist. They didn't mind getting caught.

"Yeah. Speaking of that, I've always suspected you and some of the others were taking your clothes off where you were sure he could see, like you were teasing him."

Jodi smiled. "Guilty as charged." She glanced down at her own body. "I don't wear this skin type outfit because I don't like to be looked at. And its fun watching a guy get turned on. Your brother tried to hide 'em, but he sported a fair number of hard-ons when we were around. He even seemed well hung."

The alarm on her cell phone went off. "Time for my next appointment. See ya."

She walked out of the room. I watched her. I watched guys watch her. I could see why they watched her. 

I picked up the completed tests at school and headed home. The school's computer assigned the initial grades. My job was to make sure the computer got it right. I scanned the print out. The class had done well as a whole. There were several exams for which the computer provided a grade inconsistent with the student's skill. I made a note to pay special attention to those. I also planned to leave for last the one thing that most interested me: Scottie's grades. Going into finals he had the highest grade in calculus. However, Rebecca Warrensen and he both had a 96 in statistics. I would carefully review their exams. 

I was, as usual, a bit horny after my work out. I started flipping through Sally's films, stopping at "Family Fun," a movie about an incestuous family. With my conversation with Jodi fresh in my head, I popped it into the DVD player.

It was not art. There was this brother who liked to spy on his sister undressing. After she left the house he would masturbate with her underwear. Then, one happy day, she forget her keys, returned home, caught him, and gave him the real thing. That night the son took his Mom out dancing, something the father no longer did. Dad and daughter went to a concert, a place Mom no longer cared to visit. Daughter fondled Dad throughout the show and sucked him off on the way home. They arrived home to find Mom and son in bed together and, with a buxom maid who just happened to wander by, decided to join in. As I said, not art, but mighty hot. Using a fingertip vibrator I brought myself off three times.

Temporarily satiated I turned back to the examinations, completing more than half. I would have gotten more done, but memories of the movie and my conversation with Jodi distracted me. By the time I was ready to dress for dinner I gave in completely to temptation. I put on a garter, stockings, and panties, a long black skirt with a lengthy slit, and boots with stiletto heels. I fetched a feminine lacy white bustier from an old gift box and covered it with a sleeveless red blouse

Normally when I pick up my brother I call him from my car. Tonight I decided to make an entrance. I got out of the car and knocked. When he opened the door I was leaning on the door frame. His eyes went wide.

"I didn't know it was dress up night."

"It's not," I replied, "I just thought it would be fun."

He was wearing dirty sneakers, some old jeans, and a tee-shirt. "I better go change."

"Don't bother, you look fine." I grabbed his hand and we headed for my car.

As we drove to Marteen's, a local wine shop, to pick up something for the evening, I let the slit ride up my leg. He noticed. While shopping I stood in his personal space a bit too long, mimicked his movements, and touched him a bit more than usual. He noticed that too.

Dad was, as always, gracious, commenting on how especially lovely I looked that evening. He led us to the kitchen and poured four glasses of wine as Mom put the finishing touches on the lemon pepper shrimp scampi. I tried looking at Mom and Dad through Jodi's eyes; they were attractive charming people. Yeah, maybe, if I wasn't his daughter, I could go for that.

After dinner we cleared the table and adjourned to the living room for after dinner drinks and additional gab. My brother sat on the couch next to me. After ensuring my parents would be unable to see, I crossed my legs, exposing a long expanse of my left leg in the slit. My brother noticed; while he tried to focus on our parents his eyes repeatedly ran up my leg. Emboldened, I worked the slit up, exposing the top of my stockings and garters.

It was around 9:00 P.M. when Dad artfully brought the conversation to a close and herded us to the door. I studied my parents' faces. Were those bedroom eyes? Was Dad getting us out so he could get Mom upstairs?

When we got to Hank's house I wasn't ready to call it an evening and I invited myself in for a drink. Hank was happy to accommodate me. He went to the kitchen to pour two glasses of wine and I went to the bathroom and found what I wanted, a bottle of baby oil. I returned to the living room and sat on the couch, storing the lubricant in the cushion behind me. When Hank emerged from the kitchen I patted the cushion next to me, indicating where he should sit. When he did so I shifted my position, resting my back on him. I crooked my knee, letting almost an entire leg emerge from the slit.

I took a sip of the surprisingly good wine. Was my brother developing taste? "Guess who I saw today."

"Don't know."

"My high school friend Jodi. Do you remember her?' 

No guy ever forgot Jodi. My brother was, at least, polite about it. "Yeah, she was funny. Teased me all the time."

"Well, Jodi reminded me of a controversy among my girlfriends." I placed a hand on his thigh. "Jodi thought you tried to spy on us, tried to catch us in various states of undress, catch a glimpse of lingerie or flesh. Is that true?"

My brother already flustered by our physical intimacy, paused, delayed, and by the time he had assembled a lie he could see he was busted.

"Yeah."

I paused, waiting for an explanation. 

"Sis, I was fourteen and the hottest girls in town were undressing in the next bedroom. I mean, what do you expect?'

I laughed, increasing the pressure of my hand on his thigh. "Well to be honest, it appears a bunch of the girls started flashing you on purpose. They were digging the attention."

My brother looked pained.

"That must have sent you to bed with some terminal cases of blue balls."

"Something like that." 

"Another question: did you ever go into my lingerie drawer when I wasn't home?"

At this he turned beet red. "How did you ...? Never mind, yeah."

Moving slowly, I draped my left leg over his right, revealing a long expanse of leg and my stockings. "A couple of the girls found some Victoria Secrets' catalogs stashed in your bedroom. Why do you think I wore this tonight. I thought you might like it. And to answer your question, I arranged my lingerie so I could see if it was disturbed."

I took hold of his chin and turned his face towards mine. "Jodi was telling me what a handsome man you've grown into. Well, she was a bit more explicit. I started checking you out tonight and she's right, my baby brother's a hunk. Hank the hunk. I can't believe I missed it." 

And then, before he could respond, I added, "Did you mean what you said earlier, that I was one of the hottest girls in town."

His response was careful, yet positive. "All the guys said so, that's why they liked hanging out at our house."

Again, taking my time, I straightened my leg, leaving it and the boots completely exposed. His leg trembled. His penis was moving, starting to stiffen.

"And you, baby brother, do you think your sister is pretty?"

Hank was confused. What was I doing? I considered playing with him a bit longer, but it was time let him off the hook. I ran my thumb the length of his penis, which jumped in response, and said, "I wanted to know cause I figure you and I are both in a dry spell right now. Maybe we can help each other out."

He was not sure what to do, but his penis was hard, like a piece of iron. I rubbed its length several times through his pants and then lowered his zipper and reached inside. Jodi was right: impressive girth, impressive length. My brother's head may not have been sure what was going on, but his cock was ready to go.

I guided his hand under my skirt and placed it on my very wet panties. This sent palpable shudders through his body, and mine. When I spoke I found a raw desire in my voice even I had not expected. "I need you tonight. If you want me to beg, I will."

He stared at me, still not sure what to do. I leaned my head towards his and licked his lips. His mouth parted, only slightly, but enough for me to force my happy tongue inside. Gradually gaining steam, we were soon making out like two frantic horny too-long-denied teenagers. I pulled his cock free of his underwear. One of his fingers pushed aside my panties and dipped inside my wet swollen sex. We moaned into each other's mouths. 

My baby brother turned out to be an excellent kisser. His tongue was active, exploring the deepest recesses of my mouth, and then returning to play with mine. We could have done this for hours, I thought, but the allure of his cock was too powerful to be ignored. It was hard and big and warm and I had to see it. I broke the kiss, undid his belt and pushed his pants down his thighs. It popped free, standing at attention. A pearl of pre-cum oozed from the tip.

"Ohmigod Hank, its beautiful." And then, trying to be coy, I said, "Do you mind if I play with it awhile?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I retrieved the baby oil from its hiding place, dripped in on to the head of his penis and watched it flow down the side. I turned to face him, licking my lips for dramatic effect, and coated my own hands with the oil. Then, slowly, deliberately, I wrapped my fingers around his tool. It jumped. I ran my hand up and down it several times. Hank remained silent, not wanting to say a word, afraid that any action on his part might return him to reality.

As I massaged the oil into his penis I built up a mass of spit in my mouth. When done I leaned forward, letting the saliva drip onto the head of his cock, where it flowed down the sides and merged with the oil. I rubbed both lubricants into his tool. Hank's rump started rocking in time with my hand. Finally he said, "Oh Sis, that feel's so good."

I slowly, rhythmically, twisted my hand up and down his shaft, increasing the speed but always maintaining control. When my fingers started to tire I focused on working him with my wrists, letting my fingers slide all over his thick hard dick. His head dropped back and his hands and arms fell to his side. He let out a long gentle, "Uhnnnhhhhhhhh." I was getting this just right.

I watched his face, watched his breathing change. His eyes closed; he was entirely focused on the hand on his cock. With my free hand I cupped his testicles, stroking them with my oily fingers. 

I was feeling emboldened. What else could I do? I flipped my hand upside down and held his penis, placing my thumb at the base of his shaft, and moved my hand up. When I reached the top I let my palm glide over the head. Hank bucked and his growl filled the room. I slid my hand back down his shaft, twisting it as I went.

Hank had sunk into the couch, letting me do whatever I wanted. I released his penis and it flopped against his stomach. I cupped his testicles with myfingers, resting the heel of my hand on the underside of his penis. There I pressed and rubbed hard, the lubricant letting me easily slide against him.

"Oh god, feels so, oh god."

More ideas about what to do with my brother's handsome cock crowded into my head, but from the way he was shaking and the cum spilling from the tip of his dick it was clear he was on the verge of coming. I locked my fingers around the top of his shaft and swirled my open palm around the head while continuing to work the sensitive underside of his dick with my thumb. He began fucking my hand, combining the friction of this movement with the delights I was bringing him.

"On baby brother, I can't believe I lived down the hall from such a delightful hard fat big prick all those years and didn't take advantage of it. Will you forgive me? Will you let me play with it all the time from now on?"

He wanted to say yes, but the best he could do was, "Unnhh, unnnnhhhh, uuunnnnhhhhhh, uuuuunnnnnnhhhhhhh..."

I pulled up his tee-shirt. My baby brother had a tight flat muscular torso. I licked and sucked his nipples. He moaned, speeding up the pace of his jabs into my hand. I reached for his scrotum with my free hand and felt his balls tighten. I turned; I was just in time to watch the cum geyser from his dick and spray all over his hairless chest. 

* * * *

I was back home, taking a shower, reliving the rest of the night. After my brother recovered he sank two fingers into my cunt, expertly bringing me off. I then undid my blouse, exposing the bustier. My brother, now confident in his appeal to me, pulled aside the fabric and took one of my breasts in his mouth as he brought me to a another mind-numbing orgasm with his hand. By this time he was fully erect. I knelt between his legs and brought him off, employing both hands on his thick shaft. True to the porn flicks I'd been watching, I let him spray his semen over my face and tits.

The temptation to crawl into bed with him and spend the night was strong. But grades were due at 11:00 A.M. - they had to posted by noon - and I wasn't yet sure if I was ready to take my brother's fat cock in my pussy. There was, after all, incest and then there was incest. I gave him a sweet kiss good night and headed home. 

There was one additional consideration; I was eager to tell Sally what had happened. After my shower I sent her the following message:

"I watched 'Family Fun' and then spent the night with my family. I never before appreciated how attractive my parents are or that my brother has grown up into a sexy young man. Well, he and I ended up bringing each other off with our hands and I let him spray his cum all over my face. Tell you more soon!"

* * * *

The next morning I brewed some tea and spread the remaining papers on my kitchen table. The work went quickly; the school computer was generally right on target. Scottie had the highest grade in calculus. The computer showed that he and Rebecca Warrensen were still tied for the highest grade in statistics; both got a 96 on the final. I reviewed her examination. It was solid work; she deserved her grade. I picked up his and found a computer error. He received zero credit for an answer on which he should have received partial credit. I changed his grade to a 97; now he had the highest grade in both classes. He won our bet. I submitted the grades, donned my work-out clothes, and headed for the gym. When I returned that afternoon there was a message on my Iphone:

"Looks like I won oh doubtful one. I'll pick you up at 11:30 A.M. tomorrow. Lunch at Mack's on the Park and then the museum. And thanks for being such a great teacher."

It was signed only "S." 

Well, I decided, if I was going to honor my promise to Scottie, I was going to have to visit the mall. Scottie's good work required the highest quality lingerie. To get in the mood I flipped through the movies looking for one whose title I had noticed earlier. Entitled "Lingerie Lesbians," it was purportedly a sequel to "Lingerie and Dildos," which I had watched several days before. The women were beautiful, the lingerie not bad, and I noticed an immediate difference with the other pornography I'd watched, these women seduced each other. They took the time to smile, kiss, caress, fondle, and touch before burying their faces into each other's privates. I had not thought I had same-sex desires, but there was no denying the steady heat between my legs. I turned the DVD off and headed for the shower, reminding myself that I was not a lesbian.

In the shower, as the hot water cascaded onto my body, I weakened. I ran my finger up and down my labia and then focused on my clitoris. I thought about Jodi and her husband, about finally accepting their invitation to join them in bed, about making love to them, except when I exploded and slid, back against the shower wall, to the shower floor, it was mostly Jodi in my mind's eye.

Still slightly dazed, I dressed, packed my cash from my night at the hotel, and headed for the mall. First I went to Macy's and picked out a black leather pencil skirt that ended several inches above my knees, a loose fitting blue shirt with half-sleeves, and three and one-half inch black pumps. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 11



For lingerie, I went to Agent Provocateur. There were two women working there. One was gorgeous; a tall light complexioned blonde with a svelte build who could have modeled the stuff in the store. I put her in her early twenties. Her companion was several inches shorter. She kept her brown hair in a short bob, the hair curled forward. She was small breasted and although she packed some extra weight in her ass and thighs, she was far from fat. She was in her mid-thirties and I assumed in charge.

The blonde turned to me. "My name is Gretchen. Can I help you?"

I was a bit nervous. I'd never bought myself sexy lingerie before; it had all been given me as gifts. The blonde, with her friend mostly listening, asked me a series of questions to determine what would work best. Her infectious manner got most of the story out of me: I had entered into and lost an impulsive bet with an attractive younger man. Now I had to go on a date with him wearing lingerie and I might, just might, want to knock his socks off. I tried to leave them with the impression that he was a younger man I supervised at whatever company employed me.

The blonde turned to her friend. "What do you think Paulette?"

Paulette flashed a warm smile. There was something very likable about her. She openly studied my body and then said, "Not that you need it, but have you ever tired a corset?"

"No." 

Gretchen was immediately enthusiastic. "You'd looked great. Something black to contrast with your skin and hair. How much do you want to blow his socks off."

I had been thinking about something a little less risque, but the thought of me in a corset was intriguing. It might, at least, temporarily, shut the young man up. I didn't need to answer the question. My positive reaction was evident in my face. 

"Let's try the Damson and Mercy," Paulette said. After confirming she had correctly guessed my size, she directed me to the dressing room and went to fetch the goods. She suggested I try the Damson on first, it was more classic, less frilly. I carried it to the dressing room but was having trouble getting it to fit right; I had never tried on a corset before. I called to Paulette for help. 

She entered the room, looking at me without embarrassment, "Having trouble? A lot of people do. They take some getting used to."

Paulette had me turn around and ran her hands ran along the side of my body, straightening the lines and seams. She then redid some of the buttons on the front and, placing her hands over my breasts, moved them slightly in the cups. Although I was briefly uneasy over the familiar way she touched me, her strong sensitive hands quickly won me over. When her hands covered my breasts I even felt a small, but definite, tingle between my legs. After she tightened the laces in the back, she surveyed her work.

"Absolutely magnificent!"

She slipped some stiletto heels on my feet and, calling for Gretchen to take a look, had me stand on a small podium. I turned around several times.

Gretchen stared at me in unabashed admiration and then looked at Paulette, "My god, she's beautiful."

I had mostly been checking myself out in the mirror, but the intensity of Gretchen's voice caught my attention. She was looking right at me, eyes smoky and slightly dilated. She sucked on her lower lip and then ran her tongue along her lips, moistening them. I wasn't sure, but it seemed like she blushed.

"Well, you've certainly got Gretchen's approval," Paulette said. "Gretch, why don't you help her with the Mercy corset. I'll watch the store."

Paulette's voice snapped Gretchen back to reality. "Of course," and then to me, "I'm not sure if we need to go any further, I mean you look great. But I would like to see you in the Mercy Corset."

I looked at myself in the mirror. I also wondered if I needed to go any further, I looked great. But I was enjoying myself. I liked these women's hands on me; I liked playing model for them; I liked their eyes on me.

I answered Gretchen, surprised by the coquettish tone of my voice. "If it's no trouble, I'd like to show you."

Gretchen handed me the Mercy corset. It was lacier and a bit more sheer than the Damson. 

While I changed in the dressing room, I kept the curtain partly open. It allowed an easier conversation with Gretchen and if it afforded her an occasional peek at my form, well, I could live with that. Although I had more success with this one than the first, I still couldn't get it quite right. I called for Gretchen to help.

As Gretchen fitted the garment to me I contrasted her touch with Paulette's: not as strong or confident, a little gentler. Paulette was sure she knew how to touch a woman. Gretchen was not. She needed reassurance.

"You have very soft hands, Gretchen. They feel good on me."

She blushed openly this time. "I'm glad. Thank you."

I could hear Paulette in the store, talking to some customers.

Placing my hand on her forearm, I said, "Gretchen, while we wait for Paulette, would you help me put on some stockings and garters. I'd like to see the full effect."

Gretchen, unconsciously, arched her back. Her breathing had definitely slowed. She picked out some stockings, panties, and garters. I put on the panties and garters in front of her and then sat down and held out my leg as she slipped the stockings up my legs. My hands were trembling. So were hers. We finished with another pair of stiletto heels. 

I ran my hands down my body and then cupped my breasts. Gretchen was staring at me. "How do I look. I feel so sexy."

"You're beautiful," she replied. There was no guile in her voice.

"Run your hand down my side, let me know how the fabric feels."

Gretchen did do. Goosebumps formed on my skin. "Your young man will be pleased," she said

Just then I was startled by a mechanical noise. A metal gate was descending over the store's entrance. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 8:00, closing time at the mall.

Paulette bustled in seconds latter, apologies pouring from her lips, and then she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Good god, are you fine!"

She motioned me up to the platform. I posed for both women. Paulette stepped on the platform and circled me. She ran her hands down the side of my body, as if evaluating the material. Her knowing hands occasionally paused, straightening lines that didn't seem crooked and eliminating rumples I couldn't see. As Paulette's touches became more openly sensual, the gentle smoldering between my legs intensified. 

It was then that I noticed Gretchen in one of the mirrors. She was staring at me, making no attempt to hide her interest, a look of sheer concupiscence on her face. Her look was almost distracted, like she'd forgotten where she was. When Paulette straightened the cups holding my breasts, Gretchen's hands drifted upwards, the movement half-conscious. She cupped and squeezed her breasts. She dragged her thumbs hard across her nipples, whose outline was clearly visible through her clothes. Her body shuddered; she let our a sharp gasp of desire.

I didn't make eye contact with Gretchen, maintaining the illusion that she was unseen. Instead I kept her in my peripheral vision or viewed her in the room's many mirrors. I was captivated by her reaction; naked desire was burning in her eyes. 

Paulette stepped back. "Eve, check out your breasts, make sure they're comfortable."

There was no discomfort, no hint of discomfort. Nonetheless, I did not hesitate. I held my left breast, imitating Gretchen's movement, cupped it in my hand, and flicked it with my thumb. Gretchen ran her tongue across her full lips. I did the same. I gave my right breast the same treatment, this time letting out a soft, barely audible, moan of delight.

I adopted a guilty secretive look, glanced around, and then turned my back to the ladies. I let my hand drift to my panties and ran a finger across the mouth of my vagina and up my wet labia. Although my back was turned, what I was doing was clearly evident in the mirrors and my sharp moan plainly proclaimed how much I enjoyed it. After working my labia a few more times I crooked my finger and inserted it into my vagina, finding the g-spot. My body started, as if on its own volition, a slow languorous sway. I made no effort to suppress a series of sensual moans. 

I watched my admirers in a mirror. Paulette stood behind Gretchen, cupping and kneading her friend's breasts. Gretchen, like me, had buried her hand in her crotch, unhurriedly working her sex. Again, acting as if I was the only one in the room, I reached behind me, pulled aside my thong, and fingered my asshole. I inserted my index finger up to the first digit and that felt so good I pushed it the rest of the way in. 

Again I looked in the mirror. Paulette had dropped to her knees, undid Gretchen's skirt, and was avidly licking the cleft of her ass. Paulette slid two fingers into Gretchen's vagina and then inserted them, coated with Gretchen's cunt juice, into the girl's ass. Gretchen gave an involuntarily squeal of delight.

I slowly turned around, my body swaying in time with my fingers, and faced my two observers. I had never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, but watching Gretchen's reaction to my performance was intensely exciting. I pulled aside my thong, exposed my cunt, and pushed three fingers inside while running my thumb in hard circles around my clitoris.

My exposed pussy pushed Gretchen to the next level. She jammed three fingers into her cunt and planted the heel of her hand on her clit, pivoting her body against them.

Paulette had stood back up, one hand playing with Gretchen's asshole, the other with her breasts. She talked to her friend in a stage whisper, loud enough for all to hear. "Isn't she hot? Look how her cunt is burning up. What a horny girl she is. I bet she's thinking about when you had your hands on her, helping her get ready."

Gretchen let out a low guttural, "Unnh..." 

I groaned in response, the tone and passion of my utterance echoing hers. From there we moved in lockstep, Gretchen's fervent whimperings being quickly matched by my febrile responses. The pretense that we were alone dissolved, we were staring into each other's eyes, cunts, tits. Gretchen's face was flush, her skin covered with a thin sheen of perspiration, and her movements increasingly jerky. She was on the edge of an orgasm and I knew when she exploded, I would also. 

Paulette then took over. She half-pushed, half-lowered, her friend to the floor and grabbed Gretchen's hands, forcibly pulling them from her cunt. Gretchen groaned in protest and tried to jam them back into her pussy, but she was no match for Paulette's determination. Gretchen's face was frantic with need. That's when Paulette buried her face in Gretchen's cunt.

Gretchen jerked, trying to free herself, but was helpless against her friend's strength. She tried protesting in a voice sodden with fear and lust, "No, stop, I'm not like that," but Paulette ignored her, attacking Gretchen's cunt with maniacal intensity. The porn films I had been watching over the last few days inevitably featured lesbian scenes, but nothing compared to watching the real thing.

Paulette must have had a talented mouth for a transformation quickly came over Gretchen. She stopped struggling and soon was rocking her hips into Paulette's face. Paulette rammed two fingers into Gretchen, who squealed in delight. Gretchen's eyes returned to me, watching me masturbate as I watched Paulette eat Gretchen's pussy. When I cupped one of my breasts Gretchen did the same. When I brought it to my mouth and licked my nipple, so did Gretchen. 

Gretchen and I had once again converged, each of us bounding lock step towards a powerful orgasm. Gretchen came first, screaming in delight and shoving her cunt into Paulette's face. My scream echoed hers; it was heaven. My mind was consumed by a fantastic display of shimmering lights. 

* * * *

I sat there a few minutes, mired in the joy washing through my body. When I noticed Gretchen staring at me, a silly joyful happy grin on her face, I went to lay next to her, softly stroking her skin. She did the same to me. It felt nice to be touched. I'm not sure how long it was, but Paulette returned and kissed Gretchen on the lips, a sweet sensual kiss. "You just lay here honey, I'll see our guest out." Paulette helped me to my feet, guided me to my clothes, and walked with me into the store. Waiting on the counter was a nicely wrapped box.

"I assumed you'd choose the Mercy Corset and accouterments. Here they are. On the house."

"You don't need to do that," I said. 

"I started out as a manager of a Victoria's Secret. Over time I noticed something curious about the young woman who applied for jobs. Many of them harbored voyeuristic and lesbian desires, but were doing their best to suppress them. In retrospect it should have been obvious, the job consisted of dressing women in scanty sexy clothes. Of course it attracted women who liked looking at other women. 

"I also learned something about myself. I liked young women with such hidden needs and desires. I especially liked liberating those feelings. I opened this franchise in large part to fulfil my own fantasy life.

"But its become more than that. We've developed a stable of customers who like to be watched. They come here, in part, to try on outfits before an audience of young salesgirls whose eyes burn with desire for them. For a few extra dollars the girls will watch our customers masturbate or make love. For a few more dollars, they'll join in. It's immensely profitable.

"When Gretchen applied I could sense she was just what I wanted. I have been nurturing her along for awhile now; there was a lot of family upbringing to override. When you walked in her eyes lit up; her attraction to you was immediate and you have certainly expedited the process. She will be a regular guest in my bedroom in the future. The gift is a token of my appreciation. You are also welcome to join the two of us in bed tonight or borrow Gretchen any time you'd like."

Was I ready for that? I wasn't sure.

"I appreciate the gift, but it's not necessary. I enjoyed myself. Let Gretchen know that I'll be home tonight fingering my cunt tonight thinking of you two. But as for joining in, I not sure. Yet."

"Well, when you are you know the number of the store. Call me. And if you need some relief on the way home, I have some dildos you can borrow."

With that I smiled. Here was a girl after my own heart.

"Not necessary," I laughed, "I always pack some in the car."

* * * *

What I did not know was that Scottie had also been at the mall that evening picking out, with the help of Sally's friend Theresa, just the right clothes for our date. At the same time Sally and Lauren were in bed, recovering from several long hours of lesbian love. Sally's head lay on Lauren's shoulder. Lauren ran her fingers through her lover's short hair. They were reviewing my e-mails to Sally.

"It looks like our girl is ready," Sally observed. After kissing Lauren on the nose, she continued, 'I trust you've not been a bad therapist and disclosed these confidential communications to your son."

Lauren kissed Sally right back. "No, I haven't, but I was most encouraging when he told me he planned to seduce his pretty teacher. I may even have give given him a few suggestions."

Theresa and Scottie got to Sally's just about the time I was leaving the mall. They found Lauren kneeling between Sally's legs and eating her pussy. Theresa tore off her clothes and straddled Sally's head, lowering her cunt to her friend's mouth. Scottie kneeled behind his mother, fitted his cock to her twat, and fucked her doggie style. Thus they were occupied when I got home and sent Sally another e-mail:

"Just displayed myself in lingerie to two women sales clerks. Partly inspired by me they ended up making love on the floor. What a turn-on: I was part-exhibitionist, part-voyeur, and seriously considered an invitation to join them. Have a hot date tomorrow and plan on breaking a few more rules."



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 12



I slept in. When I woke I was horny as shit. Is this how guys feel all the time? I decided to take off the edge off with a movie I'd been saving, "Horny High School." The film opened with a bad girl in the principal's office. She had committed enough infractions to be suspended, but negotiated a reprieve. The principal leaned her over his desk, gave her a good spanking, and then fucked her silly. The next scene featured the football coach and two cheerleaders. Although my school had lovely cheerleaders, we did not have two built like this. In the conclusion a female teacher - she sort of looked like a brunette version of me - was taking the math teacher down her throat when a student walked in. She traded her asshole for his silence. As she exploded I, with a dildo in my pussy and a butt plug in my asshole, did the same.

It was time to get ready. I took a shower, did my hair, and dressed. I did have to call Paulette, who thanked me again for my help the night before, for some pointers on the corset. Then I carefully applied my make-up. I checked myself in the mirror; I did look good. The bell rang. Scottie and a bouquet of flowers were right on time. He looked great. The kid had learned how to dress and although I did not recognize his cologne, it was heavenly. After some polite small talk we left, Scottie holding the car door for me.

I wasn't sure what would happen. I half-expected him to revert to the awkward tongue-tied boy I had known a few months before, half-expected him to become an octopus, unable to keep his hands off me. Instead he was perfect.

He was confident and charming. He steered the conversation effortlessly, learning about me and my past without ever seeming to ask. When I talked, he listened. He complimented me, noticed what I was wearing, and gave me all the credit for his summer school performance. He paid for lunch, but didn't make a big deal about it, and gently turned me down when I offered to pay the minimal fee to enter the museum. He was even interested when I did my best to explain fractals and art.

He touched me a few times, a hand on my shoulder at lunch to show he was listening, a hand on the small of my back at the museum to direct my attention, and then our feet bumping together when we stopped for coffee on the way home. When we walked me to the door, I kissed him on the check, my mind screaming "INVITE HIM INSIDE" so loudly it drowned out all rational objection.

"Would you like a glass of wine. I bought a new bottle on the suggestion of a friend."

"I can't say I know anything about wine, but yes, I'd love some."

While he waited in the living room I freshened up and poured the wine. I sat on the couch next to him and we talked. I have no idea what the wine tasted like; I could only pay attention to him. He was funny and sweet and gorgeous. Arching my back I stretched, slowly running my hands down my thighs. I slid a few inches closer and leaned towards him, giving him my full attention. I straightened his hair and shirt, leaving my hand on his forearm.

He noticed my wineglass was empty.

He picked it up. "Can I fill this up for you?" he asked.

"Yes." I followed him to the kitchen. When he turned to hand me my glass I was only inches from him. He leaned down. When his lips brushed gently against mine, it was electric. My insides lit up. 

"You know, there are rules about this," he said.

I tucked a finger in his belt and moved forward. "I checked them out," I said (I hadn't), "you're an ex-student."

His hand ran up the side of my head, cupping my cheek. He kissed me. It started out gentle and soft, but soon our lips were working fervently against each other. When my lips parted his tongue speared inside. It was strong and assertive, roaming where it pleased. It visited my lips, teased and massaged my tongue, explored my cheeks and the roof and floor of my mouth. If a tongue can leave you defenseless to whatever else a man may desire, his did that day.

I grabbed his shirt, pulling myself close to him, and started to undo its buttons. Or, at least, I tried; my hands were shaking. All I could seem to do was claw at them. By the time he broke the kiss he must have known he was in complete control, but he did not gloat. Instead he kissed me gently on the nose, eyes, and cheeks, before whispering in my ear, "I've been wondering, what kind of lingerie did you wear?"

I stepped back. "If you can catch me, maybe you'll find out." I took off running. He gave chase, playfully. He had me cornered several times, but let me slip away. He acted as if the pillows I tossed out him were actual impediments. When he finally trapped me in my bedroom, I fell into his arms, laughing. He ran his hands down my side, titillating my skin with his gentle caresses, and took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. My knees grew weak and he scooped me up, depositing me effortlessly on my bed, face down. His strong hand on the small of my back, he drew down the zipper of my leather dress. 

He was looking at my ass, naked except for the straps of my garter and the thong nestled in the cheeks of my ass.

"Good god, you're incredible."

He started pulling the leather skirt down. I put up a mock struggle, telling him that I was not that kind of girl. When he was done he lifted me to my knees. My ass in the air, he kissed the cheeks of my butt and then gently bit me. I squealed.

"You liked that, didn't you."

I tried to play hard to get. 

"No, it's just that you caught my by surprise."

"You are a little tease."

He continued nibbling, at first my buttocks, then my hips and thighs. I groaned and rotated my ass in his face. When he took one last bite, harder than the others, I pushed my face into the bed and moaned a mixture of pain, surprise, and animal need. "Uuuuuunnnnnnhhhhhhh..."

"Well, since you don't like that, let's try this." 

He ran his fingertips lightly over my ass. His touch was gentle and sensitive. The contrast with the borderline painful sensation of his bites only intensified the sensation. I let out another groan, deeper and more guttural than the first.

He sank a finger inside me, rotating it inside my cunt.

""Uuuuuunuuunnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

When he pulled it out I mewled my disappointment. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, he lightly smacked my ass. I had never let a man spank me before. I had never seriously contemplated letting a man do it. And I had never imagined that I would say what I said next.

"Do it again, please."

He slapped my other ass cheek, hard enough to sting. My sharp squeal of delight left no question that I enjoyed it. Interspersed with kisses and caresses, he continued slapping my ass cheeks, slightly harder each time. I lifted my butt to his open hand. It was not the pain, it was the feeling of helpless submission and vulnerability. His hand actually felt warm on my ass. I imagined the sexual pleasures to come.

Scottie did not disappoint. He pulled the thong from between my ass cheeks, running his tongue up the crack. I shuddered at this novel, very sensual, feeling. I pushed my chest into the bed, enjoying the feel of the corset against my sensitive breasts.

Words poured from me. Not good girl words, but obscene words, the only words that could capture the way I felt.

"Shit! Fuck me Scottie, fuck me with your fingers. Eat my asshole, play with my pussy Scott. That's it! Keep working it. Faster harder baby! Fuck me faster! I'm a cunt, I'm a horny cunt. I'm your cunt, your horny cunt. Fffuuuuucccckkkkkkk."

His tongue forced its way into my asshole. I turned my head to the side, leaned my body on my shoulder, and reached back to spread my ass cheeks. When his tongue re-entered me I went flying over the edge.

"SHHHHIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!" Scott pulled his face from my backside, which was shaking uncontrollably, but kept working my cunt and clit with his fingers. Whether it was the longest orgasm of my life or the first time I had been multi-orgasmic I wasn't sure, but it was all so wonderful. I sank onto the bed, my pussy dripping, my arms and legs shaking, my body on fire.

The next thing I remember was Scottie, wearing only clean white boxers, rolling me onto my back. He straddled my waist.

"It's time to see the rest of the lingerie you promised." He unbuttoned my shirt. When he saw my corset his eyes were as wide and appreciative as I could have hoped.

"Damn, you make this thing look good," he said. 

I ran my fingers along the outline of his erect penis in his boxers.

"I'm glad you approve."

I freed his penis and wrapped my hand around it. It was big and thick and glowed pink with blood. And yes, I did think about how Kevin, who liked to brag about his, would slink away if asked to compare his tool to this monster. Scottie slid forward. His cock hovered over my face. I traced along the line between his balls. His cock jerked. I licked his scrotum, moving my tongue in a circular motion. He murmured appreciatively. When I had throughly lathered up his ball sac, I blew air on it. He jumped. I wrapped a hand around the top of his dick, rubbing his pre-cum into it, and swallowed one of his balls, gently sucking on it.

After giving both balls a thorough bath, I placed my hand on his flat stomach and moved him down til he was sitting on my tits. I took his cock into my mouth, moving my tongue over the head. He wrapped his hand in my hair and held up my head as I bobbed up and down his pole. Scenes from the porn I'd been watching filled my mind. This would be the perfect position for him to come on my face, but there was another place I wanted his jism. 

I released his dick. "Get on you back!"

He lay next to me. I rolled off the bed, took off my shirt, and fished a pair of scissors from the night table, snipping off the panties. I slid a pillow under the base of his spine and wearing only the corset, stockings, garter, and heels, straddled him, fit the head of cock to my wet slit and slid it up and down my labia, coating it with the unremitting flow of my pussy juice. I then pressed the head of his dick to my vagina and lowered myself, taking the time to feel the soft supple walls of my pussy yield and mold themselves to his tool. My body flushed and a long contented sigh escaped my lungs. I had lied to myself far too long. I needed cock. Right now I needed this cock.

After rotating my hips in long lazy circles, I started fucking myself on him. I concentrated on the sensations between my legs. When his moans joined mine I opened my eyes, looking this beautiful young man squarely in the face. I leaned forward, pressing my sweat covered breasts to his chest and caressed his ear lobe with my lips, whispering, "Oh! Your dick feels so big in my tight cunt." I dragged my swollen tits across his muscular chest and kissed him on the forehead. Scottie thrust hard into me.

I pushed myself back up until I was again sitting up, impaled on his cock. My breathing steady and deep, I watched Scottie through half-closed eyes. He grabbed my hips and pulled me into him. I let out a loud happy yelp. I slid up his pole and then let him yank me down forcefully. I leaned back on my hands, a position that ensured his cock crept along every inch of my fuck tube. My g-spot caught fire and I contracted the walls of my cunt. Scottie's thrusts grew even more powerful. No man had ever been deeper inside me. The distinction between me and my cunt disintegrated; I was my cunt.

Scottie trapped my clit twixt his fingers and massaged it. I dropped a hand behind my back, caressing his testicles. We were both so close. I licked my full lips. We watched the ecstatic effect of our lovemaking in each other's face. Then he could focus no longer. His head fell back and his eyes rolled back into his head. His strokes were faster and more random. I felt his balls withdraw into his scrotum.

"Ahhh!" I moaned as I worked my hips up and down. He jerked into me with increased speed; I slammed my body down his pole. The sound of our bodies smacking into each other steadily increased. I looked at one of my mirrors and watched my pussy envelop his cock.

"Oh god Scottie. Your dick feels so big in my tight cunt! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck your horny teacher."

My cunt started burning, stoking the pressure in my abdomen. Scottie grabbed my ass, pulled our bodies together, and ground his hips into mine. It felt like I was tearing apart and then it hit me. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm...," I screamed as an orgasm consumed me. I could hear Scottie, his voice, almost as if in another dimension, roar. His cum poured into my hungry snatch. God, fucking was so fucking great.

* * * *

I was laying next to him, both our bodies relaxed, warm, covered with sweat. We were breathing slowly and deeply. My head was on his shoulders and I ran my finger tips up and down his chest.

"That was wonderful. It's never been like that before," I said.

"You're pretty damn amazing yourself," he said. 

That's when my hand reached his penis. It was still thick with blood and instantly hardened.

"Didn't you cum?"

"Yeah, a couple of gallons worth." He dipped a finger into me and brought it to my lips. "See?"

I tasted the mix. There was more than just me there. 

"But how? How are you still hard?"

"With your sweet body to inspire me, how can I help it."

I smiled. I had a hunch there was a bit more to it than that. I had thought my libido at least temporarily satiated, but the fact that this young man was again erect had me suddenly, absolutely, ready to go. I kissed his lips. 

"Well, it seems a shame to waste it. There's something I've been dying to try. You get on top. I'm pooped."

I fished some lube from my night stand, coated his dick, and lay on my stomach, spreading my legs. I looked back at him and touched my asshole. "It will be my first time back there, so oil me good." Scottie ran a hand down my back and across the laces on my corset, stopping at my naked butt. "Yes ma'am."

He smeared some lube on a finger tip and let it glide down the cleft of my ass. When he reached my asshole he stopped and massaged the opening, bringing a low moan of appreciation from me. His finger entered me, first only the tip, then up to the first joint, then to the knuckle. He moved it around, finding nerve endings I didn't know existed. I relaxed and spread my legs, offering myself to him.

He slipped another finger inside my asshole. I was well-lubed, there was barely any resistance. The primary sensation was simply being filled up, something I found quite pleasant. Scottie moved a hand under me. His thumb entered my vagina and his fingers roughly stroked my clitoris. He synchronized the movements of his hands and soon the joy in my cunt merged with the powerful new sensations in my butt.

Scottie shifted position. His hand left my happy cunt. Before I could protest the head of his cock ran up and down the crevice of my asshole, sending shivers of fear and anticipation though me. After several trips he fit his cockhead to the opening of my anus. As my asshole and sphincter stretched I had a fleeting thought - maybe my first time should be with someone with a smaller dick - but when the knob of his cock popped into my rectum the motion was smooth. I let out an instinctive "ahhhh" of pleasure while rocking my hips forward and away from him, my mind not yet accepting what my body was feeling. Scottie stopped. The opening of my asshole trembled around his cock head. 

I took deep breaths as Scottie pushed another inch inside me, forcing his cock past my tight sphincter. The feeling was intense, some pain, some pleasure, some shock. At times, as if trying to stymie the invader, my anus clamped down on his cock, but still it slid forward. I looked at Scottie's face in the mirror. It radiated confidence. This young man knew what he was doing. I reached back and pulled aside my ass cheeks. He pushed his hips further forward, forcing his dick deeper and deeper into my rectum. I moaned loudly, for the moment the pain still trumping the pleasure.

Finally, his cock filled me completely, stuffing me like a Thanksgiving turkey. The pain slowly receded as my virgin asshole adjusted itself to the impressive girth of my lover's cock. After several minutes he used his muscles to make his cock twitch and jump inside me. Although the movement was slight, I felt sharp twinges of pleasure. He repeated this over the next few minutes and I found myself relaxing - I had not realized how tense I was - and the pleasure expanding and wideningd. Soon I was whimpering and cooing. When he felt me rock my ass back towards him, fucking myself on his pole, he knew I was ready.

He pulled back, slowly dragging his hard-on back until only its bulbous head filled me. I moaned "Oh GOD," and he slowly eased it back in until his hips pressed against my ass. After it was fully wedged in my backside I turned my head to his and we kissed. Our tongues played against each other as he started steadily fucking my ass, maintaining a deliberate pace, letting my ass hole adjust to the thickness of his most splendid instrument.

He fucked me at this slow lazy place for several minutes. Soon, however, I began to find it excruciatingly lethargic. I needed to be reamed out, I wanted it harder and faster. I started pushing my asshole back into him. He understood. Soon I was being cornholed like an experienced slut. I was appreciating my asshole in ways I had never done before; I discovered that I could flex my sphincter, make it tighter and bring a sharp groan from Scottie each time I clamped down. I turned back to him, looked in his eyes, and gave him my best crazed whore look. He smiled. I wondered why. Was it the look on my face? Was it the joy of my tight virgin asshole? Was it having conquered his hot teacher? I realized didn't care so long as he fucked me like this.

Scottie slid a hand under my body to my clitoris and kissed the back of my neck, my shoulders, my ears, and my hair. If it is possible to feel cherished while being ass-fucked, that's what I felt. Scottie noticed my joy and increased the force and speed of his repeated penetrations.

I found my asshole was blissfully sensitive in ways I'd never imagined. I whimpered, I screamed, I begged for more. I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes, centering my consciousness on my anus. He kissed along my jaw and then sucked my tongue and lips into his mouth while continuing his anal assault.

It was all too much. I ended the kiss and shouted, "Yeah! Fuck me! That feels sooo good!" I thrust my ass back into him. Then Scottie, without warning, pulled all the way out. I wailed my protest. "Scottie, NOOOOOOO!! Please fuck my asshole. I need to cum!!" He yanked my body up so I was on all fours and spread my butt cheeks, inspecting my red inflamed anus hole. He rubbed his hard cock along my cleft and again fitted it to my asshole. Then, in one long hard stroke he pushed his dick inside, reaching the depths of my rectum.

"ARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH! FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!" I screamed. Instinctively, I tried to lunge forward, but Scottie had a firm grip of my hips and pulled me back into him, embedding his cock in my rear end. Scottie's hand covered my cunt. His thumb played with my clit; his fingers moved wildly inside me, massaging the underside of his cock through the thin layer of flesh separating my vagina and asshole.

I looked in the mirror. I had surrendered to my most depraved desires. Everywhere else I had held back; as a whore I was only willing to suck cock; with my brother I stopped at a hand job; with Gretchen and Paulette I was an observer. Scottie had kicked down all the doors. He had taken my cunt, he was taking my virgin asshole. Earlier in the day he had treated me as a respected date; now he was treating me like a cock-hungry bitch. He knew, before I knew, that I was both. Sally popped into my head. She had suggested that I, free of social constructs and romantic relationships, define my own sexuality. She was right; I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be baroness and bitch. To be taken out on the town and treated like a lady and then back home and fucked like a whore. To be feted like a queen and screwed like a slut. I wanted it all. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 12



The coherence of my thoughts deteriorated. I thrust my hips back and forth, Scottie pulling out until only his cock-head remained inside me and then power-fucking me until his groin smacked against my ass cheeks. My cunt, clit, and asshole merged. I loved the feeling of being completely stuffed; Scottie's cock filled every spare crevice within me.

The pain in my ass was gone. I felt only the tingling of nerve endings I hadn't known existed. I let myself go, immersing myself in the pleasures of Scottie's corn-holing dick. I grunted from the solar plexus, the sound of a bitch-dog in heat. Then, without warning, there was an explosion in my head. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm...," I screamed as I orgasmed again. It carried on, stretching my capacity to feel pleasure. Scottie's cock jerked and his cum poured into my asshole. My body was buffeted by wave after wave of indescribable joy. 

At some point, I realized, I was laying there, panting. Scottie was on top. The room stank of our sweat and arousal. His cock was still inside me and although it had softened, it was far from flaccid. This boy knew how to fuck. I squeezed my asshole down on him, eliciting an appreciative moan from my young lover.

Scottie pulled his dick from my asshole with a pronounced pop and dragged it across my ass cheeks, laying on the bed next to me.

"Pretty teacher, why haven't we been fucking all year long." 

"I'm not sure. It seems a shame not to have taken advantage of such a stud." I rolled on to my side and looked at him. We kissed. "Where did you learn to fuck?" 

Scottie smiled. "If you're a good little girl maybe I'll tell you some time."

Good little girl? I'd show him what a bad little girl I could be. I turned around, my face inches from his groin, and took hold of his tool. 

Before he could react I touched his pee hole with my tongue and pulled it back into my mouth, savoring the taste. "Mmmmm..." I dropped my face over his cock head and slowly, theatrically, closed my mouth, wrapping my lips around his shaft.

"Mmmmm..." I moaned again. I moved my head forward, taking more of his meat in my mouth. When it reached the back of my mouth I bobbed my head, working my lips up and down his shaft. His cock started to stiffen. Scottie slid his hand between my legs towards my moist cunt.

When he slipped a finger inside me I gasped, pulling my head back until only the crown of his tool was in my mouth. I worked it with my tongue. Remarkably, although he had already twice blown his load into me, drops of pre-cum dripped from his dick. I sucked them while coddling his big balls, encouraging them to produce a third batch of his sweet sticky semen.

I took my mouth off his cock and looked at him.

"You like watching me suck your big cock stud? You like watching your teacher work her hot mouth up and down your shaft? You don't think less of me because it was just buried deep in my slutty asshole, do you?" 

I rolled his testicles with my fingers. 

"You like watching me play with your big fat balls?" I asked, in my sluttiest tone. 

I gave him my most seductive look, lay his cock-head on my lower lip, slowly wrapped my lips around it, and then worked half-way down his shaft and back up again. I constantly flicked and twirled my warm wet tongue around the cock-head. After several happy minutes I dragged my lips off his member. A long thick trail of saliva stretched from the tip of his cock to my lips. It snapped and fell across my lips and chin and down to my breasts.

I took Scottie back into my mouth, lodging the head of his tool at the entrance of my throat. I tried to force it down but he was too damn big. I needed more practice. I resumed bobbing my head and Scottie's moans and trembling balls let me know he was getting close to cumming. It was hard to believe this young stud could blow his wad three times in a night. I thrust my head forward, trying again to take him down my throat, but he was too thick and I started to gag, coughing as his cock sat in the back of my mouth. 

Scottie placed his hands on the side of my head and took control of my movements, forcing my head down until his cock again bumped into the opening of my throat. Then, tilting my head slightly, he pushed and his cock slowly entered my throat. He moved my hair to one side and watched my throat bulge as it accepted him. When my nose reached his pubic hairs he let go and I started to work my mouth up and down the full length of his cock. Scottie started thrusting a little faster. His balls retracted into his scrotum; he was about to come. I thought about letting him dump his load directly into my stomach, but there was something I wanted more. I pulled my head off his cock and held the tip inches from my nose, my eyes focused on the piss hole, working the shaft frantically with my hand. "My face, I want it on my face!"

Scottie grunted and a load pulsed from the end of his cock, splattering onto my nose. I continued to use my hand on his dick and was rewarded with loads of cum on my eyes and forehead. The thick liquid flowed down my face. I was fulsome in my appreciation. "Mmm... Yes! That's it! Cover me with your cum!" I rubbed Scottie's cock on my lips and kissed the head as it finally become flaccid. I looked my lover, displaying my cum covered face. He lay on his back and cradled me in his arms, pulling my head onto his shoulder.

"Pretty teacher," he said, "you are amazing." 

Scottie soon slid off into a gentle sleep. I headed for the bathroom and studied my face. There were not quite the tsunami of jism of my fantasy, but considering he had already cum in my pussy and asshole, it was pretty damn impressive. I stepped out of my heels, peeled off my lingerie, and stepped in the shower. When my washcloth reached my asshole I winced. I was going to be sore tomorrow. I got out, dried off, put on a tee-shirt that barely reached my pubes, and returned to the bedroom to find Scottie awake.

It was then that I noticed the clock. It was close to 11:00. Putting a pout in my voice I asked, "Do you need to go home?" 

"Nope, parents are out of town and calls home will roll over to the cell. I just talked to them. All is okay."

It was, I would learn later, a white lie, but a lie. His Mom knew exactly where he was.

"Great," I cuddled up next to him in bed. Our spent bodies were soon fast asleep.

On Monday July 4 we made our own fireworks. We fucked most of the day, finishing in the shower when he bent me over and took me from behind. When we were done and his strong hands combined a shampoo with a scalp massage, I said, "Scottie, I'm not done exploring my sexuality and intend to have several lovers. If you're interested, however, I'm taking applications."

His face still aglow he said, "Pretty lady, sign me up. I hope I passed the audition. And if you are interested in variety, I have some friends I'm sure you'll want to meet."

He left. I dragged my satiated body to bed and sent Sally a message: 

"Just spent two days with a (former) student. He was a fabulous fuck. I don't have a hole he didn't explore." 

I slept a good ten hours.

* * * *

The next morning I hit the gym and listened to Jodi describe a wild weekend with her husband and some friends. I knew I'd be signing up soon, but there were a few things I needed to do first. I called my brother and made a date for Friday night; we had some unfinished business. I returned a call from Bobby. Mr. Yamaguci would be returning to the United States for a week of meetings in New York and needed a companion; I would be well compensated. Was I interested? I agreed, but only if I could spend the night with Bobby the morning before I flew out. He had no objection.

I prepared for my session with Sally my popping another video, entitled "Sappho Suite," into my DVD. It was a story of an all-woman business where the secretaries put out for their bosses, who put out for the vice-presidents, who put out for the... Well, you get the idea. 

I was Sally's last appointment of the day. I wore a black tank top with a sheer white shirt over it and black pants. When I entered her office I gave her secretary a check, who then buzzed Sally. Sally came to the outer office to greet me. She was, as always, impeccably dressed: thigh high boots, black leggings, and a black turtleneck. She had frizzed her hair, which stood wildly on her head. The secretary noted I'd paid in advance. 

"Well then there's no reason for you to hang around. You can get out of here after you process the payment. Remember to lock the door."

I followed Sally to her office, admiring her fine butt. I opened my bulky purse. "I have the DVD's. I want to thank you for letting me borrow them."

Sally's smile was radiant. "I take it from your e-mails you liked them."

"Very much," I replied. 

"Keep them. I have duplicates."

"Thank you. I expect I'll continue to enjoy them. Well, I am cured?"

"Cured? Well no, in order to be cured you had to be sick and you were never sick. Circumstances left you a bit confused as to your sexual nature. From your e-mails it is clear that nature is perfectly healthy. I only helped you find it."

She stepped closer, her body inches from mine, I could smell her perfume. It was intoxicating, sensual. She ran a well-manicured finger down the side of my face. "I also take it from you e-mails that you are on your way to understanding your sexuality."

My knees were wobbly. I took her other hand in mine, turned the palm over and ran my thumb across it. "Yes, it's been an amazing few days."

Her tone was seductive. "Good. I don't think you need professional help any longer. You are perfectly capable of finding your own way. Of course if you want to talk, please call. But for the present consider yourself discharged as my patient."

She placed a hand on my chin and turned my head to the side. Pressing her body gently against mine she tilted her head and leaned in to kiss me. Our lips brushed against each other. I felt butterflies in my stomach. My heart rate increased and my skin flushed. My nipples hardened. There was a growing wetness deep in my vagina.

Sally ran a hand down my chest, cupping a breast. I gasped in delight. Again she leaned forward, kissing the side of my face. I turned my head, offering her my ear, and murmured, "Ohhhhhhhhhhh." 

She whispered, "Will I be your first woman?"

"Yes," I said, my voice shaking with desire.

"I can stop," she said, but we both knew how much I wanted it. She wanted me to affirm my desire for her. I attempted to put together a sentence, but my mind, already-addled, completely broke down when Sally dragged a finger across my nipple. "Uuuunnnhhhhh," was the best I could do.

I wrapped my arms around Sally, pulled her tight, and buried my tongue in her mouth, kissing her with a frantic wild intensity. As our tongues played with each in unabashed sexual need my fumbling fingers finally found the hem of her turtleneck and pulled if free from her leggings and over her head. I yanked her bra down, exposing her full breasts, and sucked them with fanatic ferocity.

I tasted my first cunt that afternoon. Musky, almost earthy, it was a delight I had deprived myself of far too long. Sally's mouth between my legs was a revelation. She found crevices and spots I didn't know existed. She was able to balance me endlessly on the brink of an orgasm, drawing out the kind of wickedly delicious sensations that a week ago would have been beyond my imagination.

* * * *

Ninety minutes later I cuddled with Sally on her office floor. I had come more times than I could count and had visited every inch of her perfect physique. Her ass had been a place of special delight where I pushed my tongue inside while bringing her off with my fingers. She gave me the same treatment. 

My intense desire for this woman had surprised me. However, as we lay there Sally skillfully led me through my own history, a history that contained innumerable examples of my suppressed desire for women, including my best friend Jodi.

"What do you think she'll do when I tell her?" I asked.

Sally, who was holding my hand, kissed my fingers. "I'm sure she knows."

We dressed. Sally walked me to my car. I couldn't keep my eyes off her body. Would Scottie be open to a threesome? Would he have a problem bedding one of his mother's friends? How would she feel about fucking someone half her age? I opened the car door and Sally and I exchanged a sexy kiss. Then she added, "By the way, if you're interested, I have some friends you might like to meet."



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 13



Lauren Stone had risen early, leaving her slumbering husband in bed. She was sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen, having showered, shaved her pussy, and done her hair and make-up. She was wearing a thin silk nightie that barely hung past her ass. There was nothing underneath. Her son Scott was coming home for the week end.

Scottie was in his first semester of college, His poor performance and delayed graduation from high school had relegated him to one of the state system's secondary universities. It was, however, located in New Orleans, and Evelyn Alice, Scott's summer school teacher and lover, had moved there with him. Eve, intent on fully exploring her blossoming sexuality, had become a welcome addition to Lauren and Scottie's bed, as well as those of a few select friends, over the past few months. However, the danger of her libidinous side being discovered in the small conservative suburban community in which they lived was too great and Lauren fully supported Eve's decision to take a job teaching in New Orleans, whose size and diversity would guard her privacy. She and Scott lived together in a non-exclusive relationship; Lauren had spent many a happy weekend with them.

Eve was attending a sex toy party with another teacher, the principal, and two very randy cheerleaders. Lauren had considered sneaking off to the city to visit Scott, but had been asked by her friend Sally to monitor a project for which Sally's boyfriend, Robert, had secured a grant. Previously kids in the community convicted of low-level misdemeanors had been parceled out among differing charitable groups for ill-defined and ineffective community service projects. Now they would all be employed in a concerted effort to clean the town of trash. 

Lauren did not hear the front door open. Scottie's surreptitious entry was by design; he wanted to scope out the scene. He had headed home early, hoping to find his Dad asleep and Mom raring to go. When he saw her standing in the kitchen, the sunlight behind her outlining her exquisite body, he knew he'd hit the jackpot. His mind flashed back through the last five months. At the beginning of the summer he'd been a virgin hopelessly tongue-tied around girls. On a trip to the beach his mother had taken his virginity and he'd been introduced to a number of local ladies who, like his mother, happily shared their beds and bodies with their boys. With his new found confidence and the help of the Moms, he had seduced his summer school teacher, with whom he now shared an array of lovers. No woman, however, had a cunt as tight and perfect as his Mom's and it didn't look like it would be too long before his rapidly hardening cock would be buried there again,

The first notice Lauren had that Scottie was home was when two strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into a tight embrace. She felt an instant spasm in her pussy; she missed her son's cock and the daily fucks they'd enjoyed over the summer.

"Morning Mom." She felt the powerful throb of his penis nestled in the crack of her ass. A swarm of butterflies erupted in her stomach. 

"Ooohh, lover, what a way to say good morning. I've missed you." She turned in his arms and they kissed. His tongue worked its way into her mouth and she noted he tasted a tad minty. A new mouthwash? She pressed firmly against him as their tongues caressed each other with a need built up by weeks of deprivation.

Scott ran his hands down the side of her body. There was definitely nothing underneath that nightie. He ground his cock against her belly. She pushed back at him. He was wearing only a tee shirt and shorts and, like her, nothing underneath. He slipped his hands up to cup her tits through the delicate fabric.

"You like?" she said.

"How could I not?"

Scottie gently backed her up to the refrigerator. His hands ravaged her breasts; his mouth feasted on her neck and shoulders, ears and lips. Lauren rubbed her sex against him. God, she had missed her stud-son. She heard footsteps upstairs; her husband, Scottie's Dad, had gotten out of bed. A moment later she heard the shower start up. 

Lauren, the parent, was supposed to be the mature one. "We've got to take it easy, honey. Your dad's upstairs; he'll be coming down soon."

"Soon," he replied, pulling her back to him, "not now."

Scottie kissed her forcefully. Unable to resist she joined him in a sweet lover's kiss. He took her hand and placed it on his cock. She ran her hand along its firm contours and then deftly unbuttoned his shorts and reached inside for his thick hard warm meat. He kneaded her breasts; her tender nipples stood stiff and erect.

He bent slightly, brought his cock to the level of her cunt, and started to hump her against the refrigerator. She took hold of his ass cheeks and pulled him into her as he ground his erection against her sex. In the midst of their frenzied action her nightie worked itself above her waist and his shorts fell to his ankles. Their naked pubes were pushing against each other, his erection running up and down her labia. His hands continued to work her tits, which were inflame with passion, their kisses desperate and needy. Although it had been only a fortnight since she had last fucked her son, it seemed like a million years. 

She heard the shower turn off. "Oh Scottie, no," she whined, "we've got to stop now," but she continued to grind her pussy into his cock. Since she had taken her son as her lover there had been several score times when he had fucked her with his father in the next room. She knew how much it turned him on. She knew how much it turned her on.

He smiled, confident, lustful, and a bit wicked, and pulled her nightie up. With his other hand he took hold of his cock and ran the tip up and down the face of her sex. She gave out a deep animal moan and her hips jerked involuntarily. "Your mouth says stop, but your pussy has other ideas," he whispered.

He was right. "Oh fuck," she replied, tipping her hips back until her open twitching vagina caught the head of his cock. With a single powerful thrust he filled her completely, the slap of his belly against hers echoing in the kitchen. She recalled her early struggles and futile protests when he would take her first thing in the morning as his father showered and dressed. As he filled her with his man-meat there was now no objection; it felt so damn right.

Just as fucking her son had been in the forefront of her mind from the moment she crawled out of bed; it had been in his. They attacked each other. He held her tits tightly in his strong hands, using them as leverage to bang into her without mercy. She thrust her pussy around his incoming cock. The sound of their wanton coupling filled the room, their low grunts, the smacking together of their trim bellies, the muffled thud of her bumping against the refrigerator. He slipped in and out of her wet pussy in pistoned perfection. While the sons of various friends had followed Scottie as her lovers, no cock fitted her hungry cunt with the perfection of her boy's and they moved together in incestuous harmony.

"Lauren?"

She grabbed her son's ass, pulling him against her, and cocked her head. Her husband was at the top of the stairs. 

She replied "Yes dear," giving Scottie her sternest look and replied, but still he wouldn't stop, rotating his hips and grinding his cock into her. When she moaned a triumphant grin crossed Scottie's face. She knew she had to shut him up. She laid her arms across his shoulders and they shared a long sensual kiss.

"Honey," her husband repeated. This time the tone was a bit confused. Where was she? He took a step down the stairs. 

Scottie replied, "Were in the kitchen, Dad," and increased the pace of his fucking, gripping her ass, pulling her hips into him. She frowned, but he replied with a charming, wicked, sinful smile. She could protest as much as she wanted, he knew exactly how he made her feel.

"Hey son, didn't know you were home. Ask your Mom where she put my golf shoes."

"In the hall closet, behind, behind your golf bag," she replied, trying to keep her voice flat.

Her husband ascended the steps. Scottie picked up speed, fucking her harder and faster, bouncing her off the floor with each thrust. The inside of her pussy lips were quivering. She felt the pressure build inside her cunt. Scottie's hands found her ass and lifted her. Lauren wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist, pulling her body close to him. His long dick speared into her as deep as it could go.

From the first time her son has scooped her up in his arms she had loved this position. It was both personal, she could study her son's sensual features, see the joy in his face, and feel his chest against hers, and primal, she was completely under his control as he bounced her up and down on his prong. She wanted to scream her joy, but with her husband upstairs she was limited to deep, almost feral, grunts. 

Lauren buried her face in her son's neck, loving his powerful masculine odor. She was so wrapped up in the moment that she didn't initially hear her husband's next question. It was Scottie's voice that interrupted her concupiscent trance.

"Say again Dad."

She heard her husband start down the stairs. 

"Where are my green golf shirt and pants."

Her mind befuddled, she tried desperately to think. She had to stop him from coming into the kitchen.

"In the bedroom closet," she whispered to her son.

Scottie relayed the message.

John, her husband, sounding slightly annoyed, replied, "I already looked there."

He was continuing down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. She felt like her reason unravel as her son pounded her tight twat. Desperately, she searched her memory. Oh my god, yes, that's where they were. "Downstairs, with the ironing." Her husband stopped dead in his tracks and headed for the basement. 

Lauren could wait no longer. She wrapped her hands around her son's neck. She felt the pressure building within her and let herself go, surrendering to her most primal needs. The pleasure of being fucked by her stud-son while her husband wandered the house looking for his clothes propelled her through the boiling point. Lauren squeezed her thighs together, narrowing her vaginal canal, tightening her already tight cunt and increasing the pressure on her son's fuck-tool. Her clenched muscles increased the tension in her own body, sending her spiraling desire through the sky and into the stratosphere.

Scottie pushed hard inside her; she felt the base of his cock pulsing against her swollen labia and its head interred deep within her cunt. She buried her mouth in her forearm to stifle her groans and saw the concentration on her son's face; he was going to fill her cunt with his thick cum. She came and heard her son's moan in her ear as he shot his load deep into her. 

What happened next was a blur. She heard her husband's footsteps approaching and was aware that Scottie was helping her put on a terrycloth robe. She leaned against her son, trying to get her bearings, when her husband, wearing pressed shirt and pants, walked in. He was upbeat. 

"You guys okay?" he asked. He stared at her pink glowing face. "I thought I heard you guys talking but couldn't make out what you were saying."

Lauren thought about telling him the truth, "That was the sound of two people fucking and coming, dear. Your son is quite the cocksman. His cum is dripping down my leg right now." However, it was Scottie who answered. 

"Everything's fine Dad. How are you?" Scottie poured a cup of coffee, sliding it towards his father, who was only half-paying attention to his wife and son. She was a bit flushed, he thought. She must be happy to see Scott. He had noticed, with approval, how much closer they had grown over the last few months. The boy, on the other hand, appeared a bit rumpled, but no more than any other teenager.

John walked to the other side of the counter and glanced at the newspaper. Lauren stepped between him and Scottie and ran her hand over the front of her son's shorts. His fat dick was still thick with blood.

"Scottie, do you need to get anything from the car."

Her son took the hint. "Sure Mom," and disappeared.

"Did Roger get back to you?" she asked her husband.

"Yeah, all the guys are ready. You don't mind us playing poker, even with Scott back in town?" 

"No," she answered.

The look in his eyes indicated he needed some explanation for her generosity. "Remember last summer, when I went to that conference and ended up taking the rest of the week off to hang with Sally and Theresa at the beach," she said, recalling the extraordinary week when she and Scottie had became lovers.

He, obliviously, nodded yes.

"Well, while I was there and I started thinking how you made it all possible and that I didn't appreciate you enough. So I decided, if you want something you should have it. If you want to spend the night with the boys, so be it." She ran her fingers down his arms. She knew she was giving off a tsunami of sexual vibes, a feeling enhanced by the load of her son's cum lodged in her 7pussy. John, sensing something, checked out his wife; she was still an extraordinarily beautiful woman. He thought about taking her upstairs, but Scott was home and his golf game waited. Instead he kissed her cheek and headed for the door, saying, "I have the best wife in the world."

It was odd, she thought, since she had taken Scott as a lover her sex life with her husband had markedly improved.

Her son greeted her husband at the door as he left. She motioned her boy over to the picture window, discarded the terrycloth robe, and fell to her knees, pulling down his shorts and freeing his erection. She looked up, her eyes alight and a wide smile on her face. 

"Is this for me?" She asked, affecting a coy tone.

"It's all for you," he replied, his voice confident. She kept her eyes on his and licked the head of his dick while caressing his testicles. When she finished she stroked the trunk of his dick with her hand and took the head in her mouth, clamping her lips together and bobbing up and down several times. His groans confirmed she was on the right track.

She licked the underside of his cock.

"It's even bigger than I remember."

Again she took him in her mouth. When about half of it was jammed into her face she wiggled her head, letting the crown move around inside her warm sucking mouth. She pulled it out to catch her breath and wipe the drool from her chin. "What's your Dad doing?" 

She again slipped her face over his cock, but this time with more abandon, turning her head into a pussy and ramming it onto his tool.

"Unnh, he just put the clubs in trunk, unnnnhhh, he's opening the door and taking, unnnnhhhhhh, out his cell... He's just standing there talking." He placed his hands on her head, gently guiding her movements, and pulled her hair to the side, wanting an unimpeded view as he face-fucked his Mama. She took him deep into her mouth and twisted her head, driving the cockhead into one of her cheeks, and stretching the skin until his dick shot out of her face with a loud popping sound. She licked his balls and then ran her full lips along the sides of his instrument before again taking it inside her mouth, this time clamping her lips on it as tightly as she could and slowly, ever so slowly, running her head up and down his magnificent organ. When it was fully lubricated she held it worshipfully before her and started jacking him off. She heard her husband's car engine start.

She stood and placed her hands on the picture window, her back to her son. "Time to fuck me." He lifted her short gown and with practiced expertise entered his mother from behind. They had done this often enough to know that at this time of day, in these lighting conditions, it was impossible to see what was happening in the house from the outside. Lauren watched her husband drive off while he son's talented cock filled her hot wet pussy.

* * * *

Lauren and Scottie were almost on time when they pulled into the parking lot next to the police station. Lauren spotted Sally and Robert and waved. Sally walked over and with a mischievous giggle said, "You two look happy. I was wondering if you'd make it."

Lauren laughed. "It was close."

Robert approached the ladies with Jenny Hays, the town's Director of Administration, and her son Jimmy. The town council had asked that a town official and mental health professional ride with the scofflaws during the first week of the new anti-litter program . Jenny and Lauren had volunteered. Both women indicated they'd feel more secure if their boys were present. 

As Robert and Jenny discussed the day's events, Sally and Lauren took a few moments to confirm tomorrow's plan: the two of them and Scottie were going to Theresa's for a day of sex. As they talked they watched Jenny, a beautiful red-headed woman of forty who had been selected Miss New Orleans in her teens and then spent several years as a Saints cheerleader. With her body, they thought, she could still hold down the job. Jenny's dress featured a long slit that showed off her lovely legs and when she bent over her loose fitting blouse fell open, providing a quick view of her ample, bra-enclosed, breasts. She had already, to the untrained eye, inadvertently flashed a few of the boys. 

Sally and Lauren did not have untrained eyes. They were the best psychiatrists in town. Thus Sally's tone was clinical, not catty, when she said "Jenny's a bit of an exhibitionist, isn't she?"

"Yes she is," Lauren replied while scanning the crowd, "and a few of the young men have already noticed. She's also noticed their noticing."

* * * *

The crew was sitting on benches fixed to a trailer being towed by a city vehicle. Lauren and Jenny were up front; their sons sat with the other young people behind them. Despite the difference in their ages, the guys had all noticed these attractive older ladies. However, as the slit in her skirt showcased her magnificent legs and her blouse had given everyone a quick peek at her tits, the majority of the snickered comments were about Jenn. Most of the kids didn't know, or didn't care, that Jimmy was her son. He was growing increasingly angry over the comments.

It was during a break that Scottie, sitting with his Mom, mentioned what was going on. Lauren had, of course, noticed. She had also thought a bit more deeply about it than her son.

"Well, can you blame them," she laughed. "She's beautiful. Heck, I've been checking her out myself, so have you, and most interestingly, although he'd deny it, so has Jimmy."

Scottie smiled. "Busted." 

"Jenny's an exhibitionist. She likes showing off the goods, it turns her on. However, its important for her to pretend its innocent. This scene is perfect for her. She's acting in her job as town administrator and doing a good deed. Unless I miss my guess, right now she's raging mass of sexual desire. And I think that provides us an opportunity." 

Lauren outlined a plan.

* * * *

The next stop was at a public playground. Scottie shepherded Jimmy to a corner of the field. Jimmy, although eighteen, was still in high school; Scottie was in college. Jimmy thought Scottie was way cool. 

"You okay man, you look like you're about to blow a fuse."

"Fuck, do you see those guys looking at my Mom and hear what they're saying about her."

"Yeah, they're a bunch of asshole dickheads, but let's face it, you and I have hot moms. Guys are gonna look. In fact, I've been guilty of checking yours out myself."

A look of relief and surprise appeared on Jimmy's face. 

"You think your Mom is hot?"

"Yeah man, who wouldn't."

"Well, its just that, I've been thinking I was kinda nuts, thinking my own Mom is hot. It's good to hear someone else thinks about their Mom that way. You sure you do? You're not fucking with me, are you?""




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 13



Scott reassured his friend. "Jimmy, they may be our Moms, but those two ladies are some fine. I've been guilty of checking out mine, and yours, for years."

Jimmy, palpably relieved, said, "Yeah, I've been looking at yours too. You don't think it's weird to think your own Mom is, well, sexy?"

Jimmy had taken the bait. Time to reel him in. "I used to feel that way. Then one day my Mom was outside in a tight bathing suit and noticed me staring. I denied it, but she knew I was lying. She made me sit down and talk about it. It turns out its not weird at all, its normal."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope. Hell man, my Mom's a shrink. She understands this stuff. I ended up feeling a whole lot better about it. I'm sure she'd be happy to talk to you about it."

Scottie could see the hesitation in Jimmy's face.

"How about this. I'll ask my Mom to invite you and your Mom over tonight. We'll hang out by the pool, throw some steaks on the grill, and if the spirit moves you, you can talk to her."

Jimmy thought a second. Jill, his girlfriend was out of town, he'd get to see his and Scott's Mom in bathing suits, and the alternative, hanging out at home with Dad and his poker buddies, was not at all appealing.

"Sure."

Jenn happily accepted Lauren's invitation to join her for dinner that night. The chance to escape a home full of her husband, his poker buddies, and their cigars was not to be forsaken. 

* * * *

The four of them had just finished dinner when Lauren noticed the bottle of red wine was nearing empty. 

"Scottie, would you be a dear, and get another bottle."

Scott, who was sitting by the pool, his feet dangling in the water, said, "That was the last bottle Mom." Seeing the disappointment in his mother's face, he added, "Want me to run down to the store and pick up another bottle."

"Do you mind? That'd be wonderful."

Scott turned to Jenny, who, basking in the attention she had gotten from the boys all day, was wearing her most revealing bikini. "Ms. Hays, do you mind giving me a hand picking out the wine. I know nothing about wine."

Jenny, the exhibitionist in her thrilled at the notion of putting a light wrap over her bikini and going to the store, said sure and stood up. They headed inside.

Once in the kitchen Scott turned to the attractive red head.

"I'm afraid I told a little white lie. There's another bottle of wine. I wanted to give Jimmy a chance to talk to Mom."

A bit of concern in her voice. "About what? What's going on?"

"Nothing bad Mrs. Hays, but I pretty sure you don't want to hear it."

Jenny couldn't resist that opening. She turned back to the window overlooking the pool. With the house dark and the lights overlooking the pool bright the interior of the house was invisible.

"No tell me, what's going on."

"Well, Mrs. Hays, when we were working the garbage detail today, well I'm sure you didn't realize it, but that slit on your skirt was showing a lot of leg. The guys on the detail were checking it out and then..." Scottie faltered, feigning embarrassment. Jenny bit. "No go ahead, tell me."

"Well, your blouse, whenever you leaned forward, it fell open. The guys were watching and making comments. They were, well, positive but prurient. Jimmy overheard a lot of it and got pretty ticked off."

As she looked out the window she could see Jimmy in the water, talking to Lauren. He was dog paddling in her direction, but slowly, tentatively. She suddenly felt tense. What was going on out there? That's when Scottie's fingers took hold of the muscles of her shoulder and started kneading them. That felt good. As the tension melted away another sensation emerged. When she had gotten home from the garbage pick up she had been horny, very horny. The afternoon of flashing her charms to the young audience had, as it always had, left her in a high state of arousal. While she had been able to bring herself off in the shower, it was far from the long patient slow masturbation she needed. She had arrived at Lauren's turned-on. Scottie's confirmation that the boys had been staring at her and added tid-bit that her son had noticed it only added fuel to the fire.

"Well I had to confess to Jimmy when he started complaining that I was guilty too. Heck, what guy wouldn't take a peek if he could."

Her voice borderline flirtatious, Jenny said, "Scottie, I'm old enough to be your mother."

"Well, Mrs. Hays, you can say that all you want, but you're a beautiful woman, impossible not to notice. I've been guilty of staring for years."

He worked her neck. Jenny let out a groan, part a reaction to the massage, part sexual release. She hoped Scottie thought it was all the former, but the image of Scottie and all those young men covertly looking at her was her most basic sexual fantasy. 

Scottie then upped the ante. "And I had to tell your son I'm not the only one of his friends who does so. We all liked hanging around your house, especially when you wore those cute little white shorts while gardening."

Jenny, not unlike any other beautiful women, wondered whether she still had it. The exhibitionist in her had often led her to wear skimpy clothes when it just so happened the boys were coming over. Her cunt moistened and swelled when she realized they had noticed. Scott's hands on her shoulders; that felt so good; why couldn't her husband touch her like that? Tonight he'd be in no condition to fuck her. She needed to find time for a nice long visit with her vibrator.

* * * *

Outside, Lauren knew what was on Jimmy's mind and also knew he'd never bring it up on his own. So she thanked him for everything he had done during the day. When he said it was nothing, she assured him that both she and Jenny felt safer with him around. When he again assured her it was nothing, that those kids were not going to do anything, she said it wasn't the threat of violence, but it just made a woman uncomfortable to be leered at by a bunch of strangers. 

"Not that a woman doesn't like to be admired, but there are classy ways to do it."

Jimmy liked thinking of himself as a class act. "Yeah, they were making some crude comments. I didn't know you and Mom heard them."

"Your Mom's a beautiful woman, she's been admired all her life. Sometimes with grace, often not."

Jimmy's instinct was to play the gentleman. "So are you Mrs. Stone, you and Mom are both beautiful." Then he stopped. Had he gone too far? Had he just admitted to checking out his Mom?

Lauren looked at Jimmy. She could see his embarrassment. He was wondering if he'd stepped over the line. She stretched, moving her lithe body moving sensuously. "Thank you Jimmy, that makes me feel good. It's nice to hear that from such a good looking young man. It's nice to know I still have it." 

Was she flirting with him? He would have thought it impossible, but he felt his dick get even harder.

Lauren saw his reaction. She continued, "I apologize, I see I've embarrassed you. I know for a young man like yourself it must seem odd to find an old lady like me attractive. Scottie and I had a conversation about just that fact not too long ago." She patted the lounge chair next to hers, her voice tone sexy and husky. "Why don't you come sit next to me."

That his cooler older friend had been in the same position as he provided Jimmy some comfort. But how to get out of the pool without her noticing his erection? That's when Lauren, as if on cue, turned away to pick up the glass and drink her remaining wine. Jimmy popped out of the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist.

* * * *

As Scottie's masterful hands shifted from her neck to her shoulders Jenny continued watching her son. He and Lauren were talking; he was still hanging in the pool. She patted the chair next to her, gesturing Jimmy to join her. Then Lauren turned to reach for her wine glass and Jimmy popped out of the water and wrapped a towel around himself. The reason was clear; he was sporting a sizable erection. It seemed impossible to Jenny that Lauren could have missed it. 

Jenny had conflicting emotions. Part of her was troubled by her baby boy lusting for an older woman, whose body language was plainly inviting. However, if Lauren could flirt with her boy, why couldn't she do it with Lauren's. Scott's talented hands moved to her lumbar, continuing to work her muscles. Was he also erect? In as subtle a movement as she could muster, Jenny swung her ass back and grazed Scott's stiff member. Another burst of need filled her cunt. She wondered if Scott knew she had done it on purpose.

Scottie leaned forward, lightly touching her butt with his erection. He knew exactly what she' done. There was little reason to be coy. 

"Mmmmmm, Scottie, you've got the touch, this feels so nice."

"I'm glad you're liking it, sexy lady."

* * * *

Outside Jimmy had taken the lounge chair next to Lauren. 

"So today, you were mad at those boys staring at your Mom and making all those comments about her?"

"Yes Mrs. Stone."

"Maybe its time you called me Lauren."

"Yes, Lauren."

"But at the same time you were attracted to me, weren't you."

"Yes Mrs., I mean Lauren."

He was still nervous. Lauren slid forward, moving her upper body onto his chair. "When Scottie and I talked about it, it turned out that what really bothered him was not that he was attracted to older women in general, but that he was attracted to me, his mother, in particular. I had to explain to him that sexual attraction between a mother and son is perfectly normal. Its part of the very fabric of our culture, from the plays of Sophocles to standards like 'I Want A Girl Just Like The Girl that Married Dear Old Dad.'"

Jimmy was shocked by this confession, but being a teen-aged boy he didn't want to act shocked. Thus, he tried to play it cool by playing along. "Yeah, I know what you mean, I think my Mom is real pretty."

"Do you think about her when you masturbate?"

This time he was unable to overcome his shock. He just stared.

Lauren's tone became a sensual growl. "Is the taboo is too strong for you to do that? Scottie, had the same problem. He felt the desire, but couldn't talk about it, couldn't act on it. It just gnawed at him inside, like it's eating you up."

That morning Jimmy wouldn't have described it as eating him up inside, but now, under Lauren's questioning, his mind was flooded with images of him and his Mom in bed. Which was exactly what Lauren had counted on.

"Let's try a visualization exercise. Imagine your Dad's out of town. He and Jenny have been fighting a lot lately, often sleeping in separate rooms. You two are on the couch watching a movie, something sexy and romantic that your Mom picked out. She feels lonely and snuggles in your arm, maybe wearing gym shorts and a tee-shirt, no bra."

Jimmy didn't need much imagination to picture this image. He often had noticed that when his Dad was out of town his Mom dressed in skimpy clothes and was more physically affectionate with him.

"She pushes her body back into you. When she does your arms, which had been resting on her shoulders, fall forward, across her breasts. You're not sure what to do. You know they shouldn't be there, but you don't want to jerk your hands away in panic. Your just about to shift your position, to subtly move your arms, when Jenny drapes her arms across yours, pinning your arms firmly against her firm breasts. She says, "It feels good to be held like this. Your Dad doesn't hold me like this anymore. It's as if he didn't think I was pretty anymore."

Lauren directed a question to Jimmy: "What would you tell her, Jimmy?"

"I'd tell her how beautiful she is." he replied.

"Yes, you would. And then she turned to towards you with a big smile. So you'd tell her more, that she is beautiful and sexy and desirable. She's kiss you on the cheek and then lean the side of her body against you and wrap your arms around herself more tightly. When she does your hands land directly on her breasts. Her hips also sit directly on your penis and she squirms against you. At the same time she asks for a big hug. When you do so you can't help but squeeze her firm fat breasts. Her only reaction is to sigh and press more firmly against you. She leans her head against you. You can smell her hair; she smells so nice."

Jimmy was fondling his erection under the towel. The images Lauren painted were crystal clear in his head. He had some doubts about whether he should have such thoughts about his Mom, but Lauren Stone was among the community's most distinguished citizens, a respected psychotherapist, and his Mom's friend. Is she said it was okay, it had to be okay. Without realizing it, he let out an involuntary groan.

"Then it happens, you feel your penis getting hard. You know your Mom can feel it. She doesn't do anything but move her hips against you, like she doesn't know its there. You start to feel panic, but your dick keeps getting harder. That's when your Mom looks up at you and kisses you on the lips. 'Jimmy, Mommy needs you to take care of her tonight, but it must stay between the two of us. Can you promise me that?' As she says this she shifts her hips and through your jeans runs a strong finger down the underside of your erection. What would you tell her Jimmy?"

* * * *

Scottie felt Jenny's body tremble in need. She was fascinated by her son's flushed face and evident arousal. His Mom, Scottie thought, was right. Just as Jenny liked to be covertly watched, she liked watching. Jimmy was shifting position on the chair. 

"There is one thing I haven't told you. But you have to promise to keep it a secret. If Jimmy knew I was telling you he'd never speak to me again," Scottie said.

Jenny arched her back and thrust her breasts forward. She felt Scottie's erection on her ass. "What is it, I promise," she said in a lust sodden voice. 

"Jimmy told me he was checking you out today, checking out your legs, peeking down your blouse. It wasn't just me and the scofflaws, it was your own boy. He was looking at you, lusting for you, thinking about how hot you are. It turns out he's been doing it for years, but he's feels guilty about it. I suggested he talk to Mom about it. That's what he's doing right now, telling my Mom about how much you turn him on."

* * * *

Jimmy stared at Lauren. His hand, which was rubbing his erection hard, had dislodged the towel he had wrapped around his waist. The silhouette of his dick was clearly visible to Lauren, but for the moment he didn't mind. He would have probably have minded if he knew his mother was staring at it from inside the house, but that he did know.

"Well Jimmy, what would you tell her?" Her gaze was directly on his hand fingering his cock through his bathing suit. 

"I'd tell her yeah," he answered with unguarded enthusiasm.

"It's fine to touch yourself Jimmy. Masturbation is perfectly normal. Rub it hard, rub it hard. Imagine your Mom sliding to the floor and pulling your belt off, snaking it through the loops of your jeans. She tosses it to the floor. Imagine her undoing the button on your waist, zipping down your fly, and reaching inside to fondle your hard member. You lift your butt from the couch and she understands instantly, pulling down your jeans and underpants until they bunch at your ankles. Your cock is free and it springs upward to slap against your belly."

Jimmy was staring at Lauren. A few hours ago he confessed, for the first time, an attraction to his mother. At the time he felt like a complete pervert. Now he was being told it was normal and being walked through a fantasy about her. Jimmy was hooked and when Lauren encouraged him to masturbate, told him that it was perfectly okay to jerk off while dreaming about his Mom, he complied, yanking down his swim trucks and taking firm hold of his penis.

* * * *

When the towel fell away, Jenny gasped at the evident sign of her son's arousal.

"Think of your boy, all those years of spying on his mother, wanting her. That's why his dick is stiff, because he is thinking about his mother's fine body."

Scottie untied Jenny's bikini top and reached around to her warm flushed breasts. He pressed his full erection into Jenny's backside. As he made skilled love to Jenny's plump breasts, he continued describing how her son was sitting in the backyard, only a few feet away, confessing that he had peeked down her blouse at stared at her tits, checked out her sweet long legs, watched her shapely firm ass. How his dick, like that of all the other boys, had grown hard and thick watching Jenny flash her sexy firm body. While Jenny imagined all those boys' eyes on her body, she mostly thought about her son. The body she had spent so many hours at the gym keeping firm and desirable, the body she had carried across the stage when she had been crowned Miss New Orleans, the body she had shaken before tens of thousands of people at Saint's football games, was now the body even her son spied on.

It had been years since she had been this hot. She remembered how turned on she'd get after strutting her stuff on stage at a beauty pageant, how she and the other girls would rush back to their hotels to make love deep into the night. Or after a football game how she and the other cheerleaders, after dancing to the delight of thousands of fans, would rendezvous with some of their favored players and fuck them until no one could move. When she had fallen in love with and married her banker husband, he insisted his job required her to give up cheerleading in favor of a certain conservative decorum. Since then her dabbling with exhibitionism had been, like today, limited to tight-ish dresses and short-ish skirts. She had never imagined that her own son had been enjoying the show for years.

Now her boy was a few feet away jerking off, fantasizing about her. Went Scottie's hands deftly removed her bikini bottom the thought of saying no never crossed her mind. When his hands cupped her ass cheeks, rotating them outward, she reached between her spread legs for the cock she needed in her lust crazed cunt. 

As soon as she fitted the knob of his cock to the mouth of her pussy, Scott slid inside, pushing forward until their pubic hairs nestled into each other. Jenny's pussy was dripping wet and yielded effortlessly to Scot's cock. Jenny completely surrendered to her lust, shouting "AAAAARRRRRRRR... GGGGGGGHHHH," as he filled her. Scott saw the obvious, this beautiful woman was desperate to be fucked. He'd give her the good hard screwing she needed, but first he pushed hard into her, actually lifting her off the floor. Jenny, with his cock embedded in her as deep as it could go, felt like shish-ka-bobbed meat. Her cunt spasmed and juice dripped around the edges of his tool and down her thighs. She was desperate to be fucked and started chanting with an intensity she hadn't known in years, "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME."

* * * *

Jimmy's hands were flashing up and down his stiff cock while Lauren encouraged him to imagine how it would look stuffed in his mother's mouth. Jimmy could actually feel his Mom's tight wet lips clamped around his shaft as he sawed it in and out of her face, watching the spit leak from the corners of her mouth and flow down her chin, hearing her gag as his cock filed her face. Lauren glanced at the house. All the lights were out, the signal that her son had things under control. Jenny was in there watching, her cunt filled with Scottie's talented cock, imagining how her flashing her well kept legs and beautiful tits earlier that day had aroused even her own son. Lauren reached over and caressed Jimmy's balls. She rolled a pulsating testicle in her fingers; he wouldn't last much longer

"What do you think, where would your Mom want your cum? On her face or down her throat"

"Unnhh," Jimmy groaned in response, both images crowding his depraved mind.




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 13



* * * *

Scottie was fucking Jenny in a long powerful smooth strokes, pulling his cock out until only its large head remained inside and then driving back into her. Jenny, her hands braced on the kitchen counter, was pushing her hips back into him. One of his hands expertly teased and delighted her breasts, the other was between her legs, focused on her clitoris. They were both approaching an orgasm.

Scottie no longer needed to tell her how she'd been the object of the lustful glances and stares of the young men she'd spent the afternoon with. He no longer needed to describe how he had peeked at her or that she was the object of her own son's fantasies. Jenny's imagination was supplying its own internal dialogue as she watched her son masturbate in front of Lauren and then watched Lauren take her son's testicles into her hand. Jenny thought about the times she has suspected her son of checking her out. In the future she'd give him all the opportunities he wanted to catch a glimpse of her stockings or a peek down a bathrobe that accidentally slipped open.

The kitchen was filled with the savage grunts of two people riding the waves of a sexual high. Scottie was not sure how much longer he could hold on when, looking over Jenny's shoulder, he saw Jimmy blow his wad, spraying cum onto his mother's tits and chin. Jenny saw it too and screamed, "I'm gonna cum!" and the most powerful orgasm in recent memory seized control of her. She moaned, rolled up on her tip toes, and pushed down hard on Scottie's man meat. Plunging deep into her as her cunt contracted on his dick, Scottie shouted, "AAAAARRRRRRRR... GGGGGGGHHHH," and flooded Jenny's pussy with his cum. Jenny, in turn, hollered as a second orgasm - seconds behind the first - consumed her. She fell face first onto the counter, whimpering and moaning, her hips continuing to buck until she accidentally pulled her sensitive pussy off Scott's meat. She felt empty inside as she lay there, breathing deeply. Her pussy lips quivered and her orgasm started to subside.

Outside Lauren was collecting Jimmy's cum from her tits and chest and licking it off her fingertips. "Looks like fun," Jenny thought, "I wonder what my son's jism tastes like?" 

* * * *

Jenny and Scot remained in the kitchen, taking the time to wallow in post-orgasmic joy. Jenny occasionally dipped a finger in her vagina, gathering up the mixture of Scott's cum and her juice. They did taste good together. It had been some years since she had cheated on her husband. Maybe, just maybe, if Scottie was interested, she might want to start again. After cleaning up and catching their breath, the two of them grabbed the bottle of wine that they had ostensibly driven to the store to buy and headed back outside.

Lauren had put this delay to good use. As Jimmy lay in the chair next to hers, his orgasm having left his mind wind-open and non-judgmental, Lauren explained a few things, including that his mother was an exhibitionist, that knowing that she was being checked out turned her on and that nothing could more arousing than the ultimate taboo, carnal attention from her own son. When asked, she gave Jimmy some pointers on seducing his mother.

The pool party broke up when Lauren received a text from her husband indicating that the poker game had ended. John was catching a ride home with Derek, the designated-driver and fifteen year chip holder at the local Alcoholics' Anonymous chapter. 

On their way home Jimmy asked his Mom is she'd go shopping with him for clothes the following day. The Mall of Louisiana, which was about a hour from their home, was having a big sale and his girlfriend Jill, whose advise he normally solicited, was out of town.

"Do you really want to go shopping with your Mom?"

"Well, I mean, if you don't mind, we could have you put on some tight jeans, a tank top, and boots. We'd tell people you're my hot old sister or" and, he added, after a pause, "girlfriend."

Jenny agreed to go. After all, her teenaged son rarely asked for help or wanted to hang out with her; she should take advantage of the opportunity. At home she'd be a distraction to her badly hung over husband, who'd want to spend the day watching football. The thrill of showing her wares at a mall where she was unlikely to run into anyone she knew was not a reason to go, but, she thought, it would be fun. 

That night the Hays and Stone homes had certain commonalities and certain differences. Both houses had throughly inebriated husbands, both of whom were wholly unaware of what was happening around them. Both also had very horny moms and sons. At the Hayes' house, Jenny, with the day's events playing in her mind, was repeatedly bringing herself off with her fingers. She imagined, accurately, that her son was in his bedroom doing the same with a clenched fist. At the Stones', Lauren had left her husband's side and crawled into bed with her son, where they were fucking each other into complete insensibility.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 14



Jenny was the first out of bed the next morning. She took a long hot luxuriant shower where she shaved her legs and trimmed her pussy. When done she put on a short robe and noticed Roger, her husband, stirring. She kissed him on the forehead and let him know there'd be coffee in the kitchen. He mumbled his thanks.

On her way downstairs she stuck her head in her son's room to wake and remind him of their shopping trip. She was pleasantly surprised to find him up and in the shower; he was as eager to go as she. What was the last time that had happened?

When her husband appeared she handed him a cup of coffee, black. Still suffering from the ill-effects of last night's poker game and it's concomitant scotch and cigars, he mumbled his thanks. Jenny smiled: although he no longer did much for her in the sack, she did love him.

"Too much last night?" she asked.

"Yeah." There was no doubt in his voice.

"Well, how does having the house to yourself most of the day sound? Jimmy and I were talking about going to the mall in Baton Rouge to shop."

There was some, albeit dim, radiance in his eyes. "Not that I don't love you honey, but that sounds great."

She kissed his grizzled cheek. "I'm going upstairs to change. When Jimmy gets down let him know we'll be leaving in," she glanced at the clock on the stove, "thirty minutes."

He grunted his assent.

She initially tried on tight jeans and a tank top, both of which emphasized her toned body. However, she thought about all those boys, including her son, admiring her legs the day before. They were still good enough to attract attention. Why not show them off? She put on a silk green dress which ended just above her knees, three inch open toe sandals, and small silver earrings. Then, thinking about how much she had enjoyed the peep show she had put on the day before, she sat on the bed and removed her panties. She stood before the mirror and stsarted to imagine how the silk would feel on her breasts. She removed her bra. She studied herself in the mirror with a critical eye; no one would be able to tell. 

She got back downstairs to find her husband staring at the iPad, checking sports scores. He looked up briefly, not really noticing her, and said "Jimmy's in the garage." When she opened the door she saw Jimmy folding up the SUV's rear seats.

"How much do you expect to buy?" she quipped.

Jimmy's smile showed he'd heard the joke. "Just making sure I'm ready," he answered. 

Jimmy met her at the bottom of the stairs and gave her an obvious up and down look. "I do have me a fine looking sister," reminding her of the guise he had suggested for their shopping trip. Jenny tried frowning, but a smile peeked out anyway, letting him know she enjoyed the compliment. Jimmy escorted her to the passenger door, holding it open for her. 

As they headed down the highway Jenny wondered, despite Scott's assurances yesterday and Jimmy's obvious appreciation this morning, if her son was still checking her out. She crossed her legs, letting the dress ride to the top of her thighs. He tried to be subtle, but even with his sunglasses on she could detect Jimmy's covert glances. Turned on by the attention, Jenny continued the show all the way to the mall.

It was Sunday morning; the crowd at the mall was minimal. Nonetheless, Jimmy drove the car up three empty floors of the parking deck and pulled into a spot on the deserted roof. Even then, he parked a good distance from the elevator. When Jenny pointed this out, Jimmy said he needed the exercise. The statement, in light of his lean muscular body, was patently untrue, but Jenny saw no reason to argue. Whatever he was up to was probably harmless. Before they got out of the car Jenny fished some large indoor sunglasses from her purse. Although they were unlikely to run into anyone they knew, if she was going to play her son's older sister - something she had still not agreed to do - she wanted to obscure, as best she could, her identity and the difference in their ages.

Shopping, it turned out, was a ball. She loved dressing Jimmy up in different clothes and was pleased when Jimmy actually listened to her advice. After they had finished shopping for him, he overrode her half-hearted protests and insisted she try on a few sexy outfits. After visiting several shops he led her to Ann Taylor to try on some heels, insisting she accent her fine legs and backside.

At Ann Taylor they were met by an attractive young man. College kid, Jenny thought. He, on the other hand, thought that while Jimmy was a bit young for the lady, she was quite a looker. He'd hang around with her too. He also noticed their interlocked hands and her wedding ring.

"My name is Al Johnson. How can I help you?"

"We were looking for some dressy heels, dark blue, maybe black, in color," Jimmy said, suppressing a giggle as he played grown-up.

"This way, sir."

Jenny sat down and tried on several pairs of shoes, holding her leg straight out to evaluate them. When she did her dress rode up her thigh. Jimmy noticed his Mom's killer gams. He also noticed the salesperson noticing, which made sense, he thought. If you're a leg man, what better job than selling women's shoes. Jenny noticed both of them noticing. 

Jenny rejected several pairs of shoes before selecting a classy set of navy blue pumps. As she walked across the store she put an extra strut in her stride. Jimmy openly stared at his Mom's sexy ass. The salesman was more subtle, but no less impressed. It was a splendid ass. Noting Jimmy's open appreciation he also saw an opportunity for a sale.

"Your wife looks quite nice in those sir. Would you like to try something a bit more daring?"

Jimmy may not have been a genius, but he wasn't stupid. "Yeah, let's do that."

Al returned with a pair of open-toe four inch heels with a one inch platform and a little ankle accent. As he knelt before her to change her shoes he said, "Your husband thought you might like to try these on."

Jenny glanced at Jimmy, an eyebrow raised. Jimmy was prepared. He ran his hand up Jenny's thigh, pushing the hem of her dress up a couple of inches. "I like showing off my sexy wife."

Jenny placed her hand on her son's, holding it in place, but not removing it. 

"Now dear, behave, we're in public." She took hold of her son's hand and moved it to his thigh, squeezing and gently running her thumb over it. Jenny found she enjoyed flirting in public, something her staid husband never did. She decided to continue the game.

"You'll have to excuse my husband, you know how it is, newlyweds." 

Straightening her leg and foot, she leaned back and scooted her ass forward on the chair. This allowed the salesman to more easily replace her shoe. It also moved the hem of her dress several more inches up her leg. She let her legs drift apart. Al, manfully, did his best not to look, but still his eyes occasionally flickered over to view the show.

Jimmy, who was acutely sensitive to any action that would confirm Dr. Stone's assertion that his mother was an exhibitionist, saw what was going on. He placed his hand on Jenny's knee, ostensibly to balance himself while looking at the shoes, but placing subtle outward pressure on her leg. Jenny's legs spread even further. It had, she thought, been ages since she had flashed someone. 

Jimmy kissed his mother on the cheek and said, "Honey, I'm going to stand across the store. I want to see how you look in those things as you walk towards me." As he stood he dragged his hand up her leg, brushing the hem of her dress up another inch. Al's gaze followed Jimmy's hand. Then he saw it, there were no panties. He gulped; he was staring directly into Jenny's neatly-trimmed crotch.

Jimmy, who was walking across the room, watched the scene in one of the shop's innumerable full length mirrors. His view was not as good as Al's, but it sure looked like his Mom was not wearing any panties . 

Al regained his composure and glanced up only to see the red-head's erect nipples outlined in her dress. He quickly returned his attention to her feet and finished putting on the shoes. Jenny stood, straightened her dress, and walked towards her smiling son. Jimmy's surmise about the state of her libido was confirmed by the distended nipples outlined in her dress. When she reached him she took his waiting hands in hers. Jimmy leaned into her and kissed her on the mouth, pressing his chest against her breasts. Jenny knew they were going too far, but her son - she thought inadvertently - had just helped her flash a stranger. She had forgotten what a turn on that was and she was at the mercy of her burning cunt. Thus, she put an extra wiggle in her walk when she walked back to Al, catching her son's appreciative eyes on her ass in another of the mirrors dotting the walls.

When she reached Al, who was sitting on a chair with the shoe boxes on his lap to obscure his erection, she said, "We'll take these."

While waiting in line to buy the shoes Jenny slipped Jimmy the credit card bearing his father's name; there was no reason to end the charade. Jimmy, standing next to his mother, pulled her tight and ran his hand down her back and across her ass, bringing a short ineffectual, "Not in here," from her. His hand confirmed his suspicions. She was wearing neither bra nor panties. 

After they left the store Jimmy pulled her tight and kissed her on the lips. Jenny, who had started to have second thoughts about her display in the store, said, "Not so fast, buster," but did not pull her hand from his. Two things were becoming clear to Jimmy. Dr. Stone was certainly right, his mother was an exhibitionist. Second, while Jenny might object to what he did, she'd let him have his way. Jimmy, his hand locked in hers, turned left, "There is one more store I want to visit."

* * * *

At age 21 Emily Rutkowski was the youngest manager of the mall's Nasty Girl outlet, which was why she was opening on Sunday morning. Business was slow, but Emily had no objection; last night had been busy and she looked forward to the opportunity to relax. Nonetheless, her interest was piqued by the couple holding hands heading towards the shop. She had gone to work at the shop at age 16 and served more than her share of sluts, proto-sluts, faux sluts, and giggling teen-age slut-wanna-be's. Customers who did not fit this mold were always more interesting. This couple looked very interesting.

While these paragraphs will take several minutes to read, Emily engaged in the analysis described in them in a few seconds. First she noted that they were two good looking people. The woman, especially, was striking. Her thick red hair practically glowed in the mall's banal color scheme and her dress highlighted a pair of killer legs. Her firm body showed she took care of herself. 

There was a clear difference in their ages. He was 20 or so; she was more difficult to place. It was always hard for a woman this pretty; she could be anywhere in her thirties, possibly even forty. That was too big an age difference for them to be just friends. She could be a cougar with her young boyfriend, but Emily rejected that possibility. He was clearly in control, leading her to the store. A cougar with such a young lover would be the boss. These two people also had long known each other; there was an effortless physical intimacy between them; they were perfectly comfortable standing in each other's space and moved harmoniously. 

As they got closer they started talking - too low to be overheard. Their pace slowed. The man openly checked out the lady. Her face was flush, her breathing slightly labored, her eyes a tad glazed. This woman was aroused. If they were lovers, she thought, they'd already be heading out the door to find a place to screw. 

A good looking couple, significantly different in age, comfortable with each other, and very turned-on but not yet having sex. Emily studied their features; the resemblance was striking. They were relatives, most likely struggling with the taboo. They could be sister and brother or aunt and nephew, but were far more likely mother and son. The son was working on his mother, trying to seduce her and, to Emily's eyes, making a lot of progress. Dressing her up in something sexy from Nasty Girl was likely part of the plan. Emily was perfectly happy to help. 

If asked Emily would have admitted there was a lot of guesswork in her analysis, but she had confidence in her intuition; she had long ago developed a sixth-sense for such things. After all, it had been three-plus years since Emily, on the night of her eighteenth birthday, crawled into her father's bed and made him her lover.

As the couple reached the store Emily stuck out her hand. "My name is Emily. How may I help you?"

* * * *

Jenny, in her present pitch of high-arousal, would have been amenable to almost any suggestion her son made, but when she noticed they were heading to Nasty Girl, she slowed down. Did he want her dressing like a teen-aged slut? She'd look ridiculous. "Honey, what are you doing?" 

Jimmy, feeling emboldened after her display at Ann Taylor, gave her a patient blatant up-and-down look, and said, "Dressing up my sexy Mom."

"Honey," she replied in a tone of voice meant not to be overheard, "that's a place for..." This is when she noticed Emily and her outstretched hand. Emily grasped Jenny's hand and introduced herself. Before Jenny could reply, Jimmy piped in, "We're looking to show off this sexy lady."

Jenny interjected nervously, "I'm sorry, I was trying to tell my...," she stopped, not sure how to describe Jimmy, and then redirected the sentence, "that these clothes are meant for teenagers."

Emily took her time to examine Jenny, her gaze positive and approving. "Well, I'm no teenager and I'm wearing them. And you certainly have a body worth showing off." Her voice, re-assuring and understanding, Emily continued, "Why don't we try a few things on and see how you look. You don't need to buy. As you can see, we're not busy. You can leave your bags behind the counter."

Leaving no time for Jenny to object, Jimmy headed for the counter with their bags. Jenny took off her sunglasses and turned back to the girl, paying close attention to her for the first time. She was some sexy: thin, maybe 5 feet, 7 inches tall, with a dark complexion, thick sexy lips, brown eyes, brown hair that reached below her shoulder blades, and, considering her slender build, a preternaturally large set of round full breasts that sat high on her chest. Emily was right, Jenny thought, this girl would have no trouble wearing this or any shop's wares. Noting how Jenny was checking her out, Emily smiled, her look warm and friendly, but exuding a pouty sex appeal. Jenny noticed and looked Emily up and down again, thinking it might be impossible for her not to exude a pouty sex appeal. 

Jenny's objections wavered. There was no one else in the shop, the mall was not crowded, and she liked this girl. What was the harm in showing herself off in some sexy young girl clothes?

Jenny nodded her agreement and followed Emily into the store. She first tried on a long slip dress with an exposed back, but on Emily and Jimmy's urging agreed to move on to something a bit more risque. In the dressing room she slipped into what the store called a Truth or Dare dress. When she emerged Emily, her touch gentle and knowing, helped fit it to Jenny's body. Jenny admired herself in the mirror. The dress clung to her body, ended high on her thigh, and exposed her back. "I can still wear one of these things," Jenny thought to herself. She re-entered the store to show Jimmy, whose wide grin told her that he thought so too.

Jimmy, however, had a suggestion. Pointing to a store display, he said, "I want to see you in that." His voice had the air of command and although Jenny knew she should say no, dressing up like a sweet young tramp at her son's insistence was intoxicating. She turned to Emily, who stared back, her dark brown eyes alight with a sexy intensity. "I think he's right, I'd like to see you in it too."

This time Emily followed Jenny into the dressing room. Jenny was struck by how comfortable Emily was around her. Emily was interested in Jenny's firm physique, asking several questions about her work-out routine. After Emily helped Jenny peel off the tiny dress she had been wearing, Emily took in, without embarrassment, Jenny's near naked form, saying simply. "No underwear?"

Not sure how to respond, Jenny nodded in the affirmative and added, in a slightly uncertain voice, "Yes."

Emily slowly raised the hem of her short dress, exposing a completely shaven, hairless, pussy. Jenny emitted a short stab of breath and unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips. 

"I know what you mean," Emily said, "there is something so sexy about going without." 

Emily helped Jenny put on a tiny pair of cut off shorts and a grey loose-fitting tank top that exposed a generous amount of cleavage and featured an open back that would let the world know she was braless. Emily finished by fetching some ankle leather boots and then, her hands confident, helped straighten the outfit. Jenny liked the young girl's touch and her complete lack of embarrassment. She also liked the way Emily looked at her. There was more in Emily's eyes than a younger woman impressed by an older lady who had stayed in shape. Was there a touch of desire there? She found she enjoyed, as she had the day before from the boys on litter patrol, the stare of this beautiful young woman. I still have it, she thought.

When Jenny emerged from the dressing room it was to the eager approval of her son. She also saw that another couple had entered the store. Emily went to greet them and when the woman focused on Emily, the man took the opportunity to give Jenny a long healthy stare. Jenny smiled back. Jimmy noticed the interaction. Good, he thought, she's digging the attention.

Jenny returned her focus to Jimmy, who was fulsome in his praise. He insisted that she buy the outfit. Jenny studied herself in the mirror. She thought she looked surprisingly good dressed as a hard-bodied teen-age tramp, but still, the wrinkles around her eyes showed. Did she look ridiculous? Showing off her body in this outfit would be a thrill and she was unlikely to run into anyone she knew, but still, she didn't want to look like a desperate middle-aged woman trying to pass as a teen-ager.

Emily, her new customers lodged in a dressing room, reappeared and stepped behind Jenny, laying her soft hands on Jenny's shoulders. Emily, deep in thought, gazed at Jenny's reflected image and said, "It needs a little something." Then, her face lighting up, she added, "I've got it." Emily scurried off, returning with a funky pair of round sunglasses and set them on Jenny's face. Jenny turned back to the mirror. She liked what she saw. The glasses obscured the lines around her eyes and gave her a hipper younger look. 

Emily turned to Jimmy, "Why don't you take this fox for a spin around the mall. She how it plays. You can leave your stuff here."

With that Jimmy locked Jenny's arm in his and headed for the door. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, in this outfit, with these glasses, and with this handsome young man on her arm, I can pull this off. 

For the next forty-five minutes Jenny, her hand intertwined with Jimmy's, wandered the mall, mostly window shopping. Over time his hands became braver, touching her back, fixing her hair, brushing against her butt. Aided by the sunglasses and the reflections in the windows, Jenny scanned the people around them. She was pulling this teen-age tart thing off. No one wrinkled their noses and plenty of eyes wandered her way, lingering on her form. Her son pointed out several groups of guys giving her multiple glances. She had been turned on when they started; the attention was adding fuel to the fire. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 14



After a tour of the mall they arrived at the food court. Gesturing towards an empty table, Jimmy asked Jenny to sit down while he grabbed something to eat. Jenny, her chair pulled away from the table, ostentatiously crossed her legs and applied make-up. Through her sunglasses she spied on a group of teenagers, about her son's age, staring at her. 

So engrossed, in fact, was she in surreptitiously observing the teen-agers gawking at her that at first she did not notice that Jimmy had returned. He was holding two soft vanilla ice cream cones. He handed her one.

Jenny looked at her son. "Could you have been a little less obvious?" she said, holding the phallic symbol in front of her face.

Feigning innocence, he said, "I don't know what you mean." And then in a husky, commanding voice, he said, "Lick it, I want you to lick it up the side."

Jenny initially hesitated. Was she going to far? She rolled her eyes to the left, wondering if the knot of teen-aged boys she had seen a minute ago were still out there. They were; they had taken a seat on a bench in the middle of the mall and were looking at her while doing a horrible job of pretending not to. Inspired by their attention, she licked the cone, slowly, sensuously, from bottom to top, and then, with a gob of the thick sweet white cream sitting on the end of her tongue, pulled it into her mouth, and swallowed. Her audience was transfixed. She looked back at her son. He was staring at her. 

Confident she would comply, he said, "Very sexy. Do it again."

Without thinking, lost in the moment and safe in her anonymity, Jenny, bent her tongue and ran its flat surface up the smooth, sweet, creamy surface of the ice cream. He instructed her to do so twice more and she, her eyes growing hazy with desire, repeated the performance. Recalling Lauren's advice, Jimmy decided to push the edge: "You've licked enough off the side. Can you get the rest into your mouth?"

Jenny locked her eyes on her son. Well aware of how it would appear, she opened her mouth wide and settled it over the tip of the ice cream, slowly pushing it inside her mouth. She was not entirely successful and some of the cream rolled onto her lips. Although it would be invisible to the world, she swirled her tongue over the crown of the cone before driving it into the center of the ice cream. She reached over with her foot and stroked Jimmy's leg. When done she ran her tongue across her lips, capturing the ice cream that had coated them. Her loose shirt hid her erect nipples and although her cunt was moist, even sans underwear it had not yet stained the short's dark denim fabric.

She squeezed her legs together, sending a shiver up her spine. Her voice husky, she said to her son, "How'd I do?"

Jimmy was not sure what he'd expected, but he'd not expected anything so overtly sexual. His dick was hard and throbbing in his pants. As she had taken the cone in her mouth he had felt a moment of panic. Where would he go from here? Then as she asked her question, ice cream still smeared on her lips, he had an epiphany. 

"Excellent, quite," pausing for effect, "excellent. Those boys," gesturing subtly with his head at the knot of teenagers who had been staring at her, "will be dreaming about you tonight. You missed some ice cream. Let me help." He took a napkin from the dispenser on the table, leaned towards her, and dabbed her lips. His other hand drifted down to rest on her knee, squeezing gently. "No good, it's dried, it won't come off. Let me get it." 

He slid forward on his chair, licked the corner of her mouth, wetting the ice cream, and then ran his tongue across her lips. Her mouth, seemingly on its own volition, parted, and she let his tongue invade her mouth. Her own tongue, at first tentatively, but quickly with a need and ferocity which surprised her, played with his until she was kissing her teenaged son with all a teenager's passion. When he finally pulled away she was breathing heavily and trembling. She thought of all the people watching them, outraged, or maybe bemused, by the horny teens unable to keep their hands off each other in public. What if they knew the truth, that her son had just frenched her?

Jimmy stood. Jenny took his proffered hand and joined him. He put his arm around her back, resting it on the far hip, and kissed her cheek. "Let's check out the video arcade before we leave." Video games would not have been her first choice, but Jenny dutifully walked with her son, finishing her ice cream cone and wondering what he had planned for her next.

When they entered the arcade the first thing Jenny noticed was the constant, and annoying, pinging of an array of games wholly unknown to her. She turned to her son, having to raise her voice to be heard, "Whatever happened to Pac-Man?" The next thing she noticed was the dim light. She took off her sunglasses. The darkness, she realized, would hide the small indications - a wrinkle here, a sag there - that she had not been a teenager in decades. Here she could openly play the role of her son's girlfriend in front of an audience without fear of discovery. The thought was immediately confirmed by comments directed at her from boys lost in the darkness, where their anonymity promoted a lack of civility: "Hey baby, you can do better than that," "Why don't you come sit on my lap," and "I lost my number, can I have yours?" The crude comments both thrilled and made her uncomfortable and she pressed against her son. He wrapped a protective arm around her and drew her close to him. That set off another round of catcalls: "Damn, if my girl looked like that I'd be squeezing her real tight."

They moved towards the back of the arcade, heading for a game Jimmy often played at home. He fished some change from his pocket and started to play. Jenny wrapped her arms his waist and noticing other couples taking advantage of the darkness to nestle against each other, slid her body tight against Jimmy.

Jimmy, however, was good at the game and as it dragged on Jenny found herself getting bored - Jimmy's mastery of this game might mean they'd be there for hours. Inspired by another girl - who she suspected was equally bored - who was distracting her boyfriend with some well-placed kisses, Jenny pressed herself against him, feeling her braless breasts flatten against his back, and ran the flat of her tongue over his ear. Jimmy shuddered and turned his head towards her. The player on the screen suffered a mortal wound.

Adopting the tone of an innocent girl, Jenny said, "Did I do that?"

Other than smile, Jimmy did not respond. Instead he turned back to the game. Emboldened by her success, she placed her hands on the inside of his legs and ran her hands hard up his inner thighs while pushing her hips into his ass. Jimmy, his concentration destroyed, his cock jumping, watched as his last man died a video game death. 

He turned in her arms until he was facing her, held the back of her neck and without a word pulled her face to his, sinking his tongue in her mouth. There was nothing polite about this kiss; Jimmy's tongue was aggressive. And Jenny, thrilled to be making out with her son in a room full of strangers, responded in kind. She imagined that everyone there thought that she belonged to this young man; that she fucked him whenever he wanted; that she was a wanton crazy reckless lover; and that they both came and came. None would have guessed that she was his mother.

When he pulled his mouth from hers Jenny leaned forward, searching for his lips. But he had moved to the left and his mouth was next to her ear. "Two can play this game." Jimmy took her hand in his and led her deeper into the arcade. Her temporary confusion ended when she saw Ms. Pac-Man. She knew this one. Jimmy moved her in front of the game and inserted a quarter, standing behind her.

Jimmy let her work through the first maze before slipping a finger in her shorts and running his hand around her waist while licking her ear. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him. Ms. Pac-Man suffered a fatal injury. Her next player died when he ran his hands down her back and cupped and squeezed her ass. During the third round he leaned her forward, his erection pressing against the crevice of her ass. With her shirt hanging loosely over the front of her body, he slipped his hands inside, stroking the bottom of her breasts before a finger, taking its time, teased her hard nipples.

She had stopped watching the game, instead looking at the reflection in the screen. Her shirt was loose enough so that his hands were invisible, but still none of the people watching them could doubt what was going on. She looked at the reflection of the room behind her, seeing the faces staring at them. Her nipples, already hard, erupted into full erection.

As Ms. Pac-Man expired she turned into her son's arms and ran her hand along the outlines of his cock so everyone could see. "I need you to fuck me," she said, not caring who heard.

Jimmy took hold of her hand and led her from the arcade. She glanced at some of the faces as they left. No one could doubt their intention. How many of these young men would be fucking their girlfriends that night thinking of them? How many boys would be in their bedrooms pulling on their dicks, wishing they had a woman as hot and cock-hungry as she? 

Jenny would not remember the crowd in the mall as her son led her by the hand. She just wanted to be alone with Jimmy. When they made it to the parking garage elevator Jimmy pushed her against the door, pressing his body against her and rammed his tongue into her accommodating hungry mouth. His hands roughly fondled her breasts through her shirt. When she felt the elevator stop and the doors slide open on her back she noticed a small black camera mounted on the elevator's ceiling. Had mall security been watching?

Jenny saw a few other cars parked on the roof. Impatient to get him alone, Jenny was perturbed when he seemed to be taking an indirect route to their SUV, swerving by a green Volvo sedan.

"Look inside," he said.

When she did she saw an attractive man, his eyes closed and face shining with pleasure, as a head, unseen except for long blonde hair, bobbed up and down on his cock. Jenny couldn't tear her eyes away as her son said, "This is a local make-out spot. When business is slow mall security will leave you alone if you're discreet." And then tugging her hand, he said. "It's okay to look, but not to stare."

She followed her son, her eyes still locked on the Volvo. When she stumbled over a joint in the parking deck, she looked forward to see that Jimmy was making another curve on the way to their car. They slowed as they passed another vehicle. The passenger seat had been lowered to horizontal where a powerfully built black man lay on top of a dark haired white women, their pants pulled down to their ankles, fucking away. Again, she had to be dragged away by her son.

Jenny did not stop looking over her shoulder until her son stopped. He was unlocking the back of their SUV. He helped her inside and then crawled in behind her. As the back door shut she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, their mouths locked together in a rapacious kiss.

Jimmy pulled up her shirt, exposing her braless breasts, and sucked one and then the other, lashing the nipples with his tongue with hurricane-like fury. Jenny reached down for his belt. Her need was so intense that she had trouble with the normally simple operation and fumbled with it several times before she got the buckle loosened. After several more tries she pulled the zipper down and jammed her hand inside his jeans. When she had watched him jerk off the night before she had thought he was large. That impression had been reinforced when she felt it pressed against her in the video arcade. Now she was sure; her son was hung. "You're so big, so fucking big," she repeated, fondling the length of her son's impressive cock. 

Jimmy sat back, pulled off her shorts, and squirmed out of his jeans. Jenny's eyes flicked from Jimmy's face to his erection, which was hard and huge and hot, shaking with need, and dripping pre-cum. There was no hesitation in her mind or her voice.

"Damn it, fuck me now. Fuck me hard!"

Jimmy leaned forward, holding himself above her, and started running his cock along her slit. In too high a state of arousal for fine motor skills, he moaned in frustration; he couldn't seem to find the entrance to her cunt. Jenny, equally frustrated but more experienced, grabbed her son's dick and slipped the head into her cunt. Roughly, without hesitation or grace, he rammed his thick hard cock into her as deep as it would go.

"Ahhh!" Jenny moaned loudly, as her son entered her cunt in one powerful movement. There was no hesitation, no getting used to each other. Jimmy slammed into her; she worked her hips up and down, meeting his thrusts. The two of them got louder and louder. "Shit! Fuck me Jimmy! That's it! Keep working it in and out. Faster baby! Fuck me faster! Fuck me, fuck me." Jimmy did as he was told and she only moaned louder. Jenny wrapped her arms around her son's neck and placed her ankles on top of his, pulling him tighter against her.

Jimmy was living a dream. He had always thought his mother was hot, but he'd never imagined that he would actually have her. Now not only was he fucking her, but she was wild with need and desire. She was completely consumed by her craving for him. His Mom was a fantastic fuck, the best he'd ever had. As she writhed under him it was clear that Dad was not giving this hot bitch the fucking she needed. In that moment, with his cum burning in his balls, her wholly uninhibited passion gave him hope that from now on she'd get it from him.

Jenny was lifting herself into him, pushing her hips several inches from the floor to meet his downward jabs. When he pushed her hips back to the floor he rocked forward, dragging his stiff cock over her g-spot and pubic bone over her clit. Jenny, aware of the delight her son must feel in having turned his mother into a cock-hungry bitch, spurred him on. She buried her face in his shoulder, moaning her delight in his ear, "Fuck me stud, fuck my hot pussy, fuck my tight cunt, make me your slut, make me a dick addict," before, turned on her by her own base language, she let out a loud growl and her head fell back to the floor. She wrapped her legs around her son's waist and ass.

The sex became even more violent. Jenny's body was pinned to the floor by her son's powerful thrusts. The van's shaking and Jenny's screaming sobs of desire also attracted attention, and people wandered over to the vehicle. Few of them had witnessed a fuck this intense and savage, and despite the rules, lingered and stared at the gorgeous couple rutting on the floor of the SUV. When the pounding of their bodies dislodged Jenny's sunglasses she opened her eyes and saw these people watching her fuck her son. 

All her life she had longed to push the edge of the envelope, to break the rules, but she'd never imagined that she would become this kind of depraved whore. She was fucking in public; she had an audience; she was fucking her own son. She was a son-fucker. Spurred on, she wrapped her legs around her son, pulling his hips into her with as much force as she could muster and dug her fingernails into his back. After flashing Al, showing Emily her bare cunt, parading around the mall like a teen-age slut, and playing her son's horny girlfriend in the arcade, now she was fucking him to an audience. She shut her eyes - afraid if she stared back some people might feel uncomfortable and leave - and simply imagined their eyes on her. She howled her delight. 

"God, I've never been this hot, fuck me. Fuck your Mommy. FUCK ME. I love your fat cock, you motherfucker, fill my Mommy twat with your hot creamy cum you sweet motherfucker. FUCK ME LIKE A SLUT! FUCK ME LIKE YOUR SLUT!!""

There was nothing in her universe but her cunt, the cock that had merged with it, and the eyes of appreciative strangers. Jenny growled and begged and screamed for her son to fuck her more and more, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. Her pussy swelled and juiced as his perfect dick slammed hard into her. They both grunted in concert with the power of his thrusts; they were both in heaven. Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, her gut seemed to rip open and an orgasm subsumed her entire being; her clit and cunt grew until they stretched from her fingers to her toes; sheets of color flooded her brain. She heard her own cries of feral pleasure as if they came from a distant place and then, on top of it all, her son's deep animalistic grunt joined hers as he flooded her hungry cunt with his cum. 

She grabbed him hard, pulling his body to hers, and heard herself babbling her devotion as her son filled her with his seed. At some point she let go and she lay there, unable to move. A kaleidoscope painted the sky behind her closed eyes. Her breath was ragged and she gasped for air. The sensations from her orgasm filled her body, her cunt was still burning and a sublime numbness lingered in her fingers and toes. The weight of her son's body on her gave her comfort and she gently ran her hands over him, marveling at his strong perfect physique. 

Jimmy, however, was not done. Although he had cum - she distinctly remembered the sensation when he filled her womb with his cum - his dick was still hard and he continued fucking her, slowing the pace, moving in harmony with the pulsations of her body, drawing out, deepening, lengthening her orgasm. Then, when he knew she was ready, he increased the frequency and power of his thrusts, driving himself, and her, back up the mountain. With her hands on his shoulders she pulled him into her, looking over his shoulders with half-closed eyes; it seemed there were new faces watching them through the car's windows. 

"You fuck your Mommy so good baby. Fuck her hot pussy, fuck the pussy you came from. Fill her with your seed. You can fuck her whenever you want, fuck her when your Dad's in the next room, fuck her in your daddy's bed. You fuck me so good, fuck me so much better than your daddy. Make me your slut you bastard, you mother-fucker! Fuck your Mommy, fuck her. Feed my hungry pussy your cum baby."

The transformation of his mother to a licentious cock-hungry whore, to his licentious cock-hungry whore, was driving Jimmy wild. Another load of cum was boiling in his balls. His movements became jerky and his grunts bestial, emanating from deep within his gut. Jenny locked her legs around him. Her cunt had never been this sensitive; her clittie had never been this alive. She was close, so close; all she needed was for him to fire his seed into her. 

"Give my your jism, baby. Cum inside your Mommy. Fill my belly with your seed." 

"FUCK," Jimmy shouted. His body shuddered and he shot a second load of cum into her cunt. "OHMIGOD," Jenny bayed as she was run over by an orgasm exceeding even the first in its mind-blowing power. They clutched each other tight, the warmth of the other's body intensifying the power of their mutual cums. 

Eventually, Jenny was not sure how long, Jimmy rolled off of her. He draped a leg over hers. She reached for his now-softening cock, fiddling with it, enjoying it. A fine sheen of sweat covered Jimmy's body. She looked at the windows. The spectators had departed, but it didn't matter. She felt wonderful. 

Jimmy's eyes were closed and his breath shallow. His semi-erect cock twitched as his mother's hand twiddled with it. He listened to her soft barely audible breathing. He thought about her warm body, firm tits, soft hands, and tight cunt. He had made his Mom his lover. She was his. Now he had to keep her. When her hand on his cock relaxed a chill ran through him. Was she having second thoughts? He glanced at her; her eyes were closed; she was naked beside him, sleeping peacefully on her back. He thought of Lauren Stone's advice. His Mom was an exhibitionist. So far playing to that aspect of her personality had worked perfectly; there was no reason to stop now.



The Therapist's Journey Ch. 15



Thirty minutes later Jimmy was driving the SUV home; Jenny, still dressed like a teen-aged tramp, sat beside him, gently stroking his thigh. When they passed their first truck, Jimmy thought he saw the driver check out his Mom. He slowed down when they passed the next truck and his suspicions were confirmed; the driver was definitely taking a gander at Jenny. When the driver grabbed his radio Jimmy wondered whether he was telling his fellows about the hot scantily-clad chick in the SUV.

As they approached another eighteen wheeler Jimmy thought of Dr. Stone's advice. So far she had been dead on: the more his Mom exposed herself, the crazier, the hotter she became. It was time to stretch the envelope. "Mom, put your big sunglasses on." 

Jenny looked at him. "Why?"

"You'll see. Just do it."

Jenny put on the sunglasses just as Jimmy pulled astride the driver. "Hey Mom, that trucker's checkin' you out. Why don't you blow him a kiss."

Jenny looked to her right. There was a fat face, stubbly with beard, staring at her. She turned to her son. Surely he wasn't serious. But Jimmy's face was calm; it brooked no dissent. As she realized she was going to follow her son's instructions Jenny felt a warm pang between her legs; this spur of the moment direction to flirt with a stranger was turning her on. The last twenty-four hours had left little of the good girl mask she'd been spent the past decade wearing. Jimmy was right. There could be no harm in one little kiss and the thought of doing it stoked the heat in her groin. She looked at the trucker, smiled, and threw him a kiss. He tooted his horn in appreciation.

Jenny's quick compliance bolstered Jimmy's confidence. He looked in the rear view mirror. There was no one behind them. Keeping the SUV abreast of the truck, he said, "Mom, let's give this hard-workin' boy a show. Flash 'im." 

Jenny's weak meandering protest, "Honey, I don't know, I mean, you don't know anything about this guy, I mean, he could be anyone, be reasonable, he could be a crazy druggie, anything...," was undercut by her uncertain tone of voice. She wasn't putting up much resistance, inviting her son to override her.

Jimmy laughed. "Mom, don't worry about him, we can get away any time we want and you've got your sunglasses on. So sit back and show the guy what he wants. Heck, I'll enjoy it too."

Jenny glanced in the side mirror. The sunglasses, she thought, should keep her identity a secret. Slightly reassured, and more than a little bit aroused by the prospect of flashing a stranger, Jenny pulled down one side of her blouse, exposing a breast. Her nipple was hard and erect. The trucker's face showed a broad grin. She closed her eyes and leaned back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her flesh.

Jimmy grinned triumphantly. Lauren Stone was right. His mother an exhibitionist. A fact, he was learning, he could definitely take advantage of.

"Lift that shirt up. Show him both your fine tits and pull the seatbelt down so it doesn't cut between them." Jenny again looked at her son. Had she lost the ability to say no? She lifted the shirt, baring her braless tits. Despite her concerns, she was increasingly turned on; both nipples were at full attention.

"Now touch them." Jenny reached over to her son's crotch. He was erect; he was responding to her display. She imagined that the truck driver's cock was nice and hard. She imagined him picking up a lot lizard that night and thinking about her tits while the whore sucked him off. Jenny cupped her breasts, making a show of teasing and pulling on her nipples.

Jimmy noticed another truck fast approaching from behind. He allowed his speed to drift down and the first truck pulled ahead. Jimmy stuck his arm out the window and waved; the driver gave an appreciative toot of his horn.

When the next truck pulled astride them Jenny, without instruction, waved at the driver, her breasts still exposed. He whooped and sounded his air horn. Her hesitation of a few minutes ago seemed ancient history; she was fully immersed in the moment. 

"Mom, me and these guys really love your tits and nipples." 

Jenny turned back to her son and flashed a sexy smile before giving her breasts a quick squeeze and again waving at the driver.

"Mom, pull down your shorts." 

Although part of her wanted to object, Jenny, hands shaking, unbuttoned her shorts and pushed them down until they sat at her ankles. As her son knew, she was not wearing any underwear; her wet pussy glistened in the sunlight.

Matching his speed to that of the truck, Jimmy said, "Spread your legs as wide as you can."

Goose-pimples erupting over her skin, Jenny spread her legs. The distracted trucker swerved, nearly hitting the SUV, as he stared at the beautiful all-but-naked red-head. Jenny, thrilled at the attention, ran her hand across her son's thighs and the outline of his hard dick. Jimmy opened his pants and Jenny pulled his cock free, softly caressing his erection. With her other hand she pulled a breast to her mouth and licked the nipple. 

Jimmy suppressed a broad smile as he contemplated his mother's transformation. When he noticed the trucker check his rear view mirror Jimmy did the same and saw another truck pulling up behind. Apparently the act the crazy red-haired chick was putting on was being passed around among the drivers. Could he up the ante? It was, Jimmy decided, worth a try. He slowed down, drifting back to the truck behind them. Jenny, fully focused on sucking her own tits, didn't initially notice. When she was alerted by a toot of the horn of the truck that was pulling away in front, she turned to her son in confusion. He gestured out the window as another truck pulled up beside them.

The driver was, unexpectedly, a woman, with short black hair. Her face featured several tattoos and piercings.

"Hey, she's cute. Let's give her a show. Mom, put your fingers between your legs." 

Jenny hesitated. She had dug performing for the men, but there were limits.

"Just do it," he said firmly.

Jenny, secretly thrilled by her son's new commanding attitude, ran her right hand up her leg and slipped a finger into her wet cunt. The SUV continued to pace the heavy truck as Jenny moved this finger, and then several, in and out of her pussy. The truck driver was visibly delighted. Jenny couldn't believe it. She felt her cunt get wetter and wetter. 

"That's great Mom. Now lick those sticky fingers." Jenny sucked the juice from her fingers. The trucker stared open-mouthed. Jenny imagined the driver, sinking her fingers into her lover's pussy later that night and licking off the cream. She jammed her right hand back between her legs while continuing to fondle her son's cock with her left. Her cunt was on-fire; she needed to cum; she started working on her clit. She looked at the truck driver and ran her tongue over her lips, wondering what her cunt tasted like. And then the woman started drifting away. Jimmy was slowing down. Jenny frantically turned to Jimmy. What was going on; she was not done. The SUV veered to the left and Jenny noted the scenery behind her son. They were pulling off the highway; they were home; this was their exit.

When they reached the bottom of the exit Jimmy looked at his Mom. She was sprawled across her seat, exhibiting her wares to anyone who cared to look. 

"You better cover up Mom."

Jenny, her tone distracted, her mind focused on the steaming swamp between her legs, said, "Yes son." However, as they drove through their home town, windows down, waving to friends and neighbors, Jenny's hand continued to frig her son's enormous erection.

* * * *

As the garage door closed behind them Jenny knew one thing; she needed to be fucked, fucked soon, and her husband was definitely not in the running. After she got out of the SUV another thought intruded. She couldn't possibly let her husband she her dressed like this. That's when she realized that they had not reclaimed her clothes or the day's shopping from Nasty Girl.

"Baby, we left our shopping behind."

Jimmy had realized it, but the last thing he wanted to do when he hurried his horny mother to the family car for their first fuck was to detour back to Nasty Girl.

"Don't worry, I'll call the store." Then, as if he had been doing it for years, he placed a hand on her ass and kissed her, unashamedly slipping his tongue into her mouth. As they continued their long lingering sexy french kiss she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. After several minutes of hot necking Jenny broke the kiss and said, "We better get inside. Your dad's going to start wondering what we're doing out here." 

As Jimmy went to call the store, Jenny stopped to pull one of her son's tee-shirts from the dryer. She put it on. It covered the shirt and cut-offs. It was Sunday and that meant hubby was watching football. She found him in the den in his recliner. The beer cans stacked on the table showed he was well on his way to a happy drunk. She stood behind their high-back couch, which was positioned to the side of and behind his chair, and they exchanged pleasantries. She heard her son approaching, whistling a happy tune. 

Both mother and son were wondering if the other would be as brazen at home as they had been out of it. The answer came almost immediately. Jimmy stood behind his Mom and rubbed his rock hard erection against her ass while sliding his hands underneath the tee shirt to fondle her tits. Jenny moaned, pushing her ass back against him while pretending to pay attention to something her husband was saying. One of Jimmy's hands moved across her stomach, pushed inside her shorts, and cupped her naked wet cunt, slipping a finger inside and rocking her back against his hard dick. She placed both hands on the top of the couch and shimmied her ass against his erection. Jenny then leaned forward and slipped her hand between them, tracing the outline of his prick. He loved the touch of her fingers on his cock while his father sat a few feet away. As if she could read his mind she slipped her hand inside his shorts and closed her fingers around the stiff shaft. She began stroking him gently.

His father spoke, "Instead of standing there why don't you two sit down and watch the game."

Jenny replied, her tone positive and friendly as she worked her son's penis. "Actually I got a few things I need Jim to move upstairs. I'll need him to squeeze into some tight places. After that I'm going to take a shower and lay down, I'm a bit tired. Jim, you don't mind helping your Mom, do you?"

No ma'am," he replied. "I'm kinda bushed too. I may take a nap myself."

"Thank you honey," Jenny said while rotating her hand on the head of her son's meat. Then she said to her husband, "We'll join you for the next game, dear."

"Sure," Roger replied, half-listening. He thought, in passing, that Jimmy was abnormally happy to help his Mom, he usually ran from chores, but Roger was soon fully absorbed in the game. Jenny, seeing that her husband has stopped paying attention, said good-bye, knelt behind the couch, undid her son's jeans, and recalling the ice cream cone at the mall, took hold of his cock and slowly licked it from base to tip, applying as much pressure as she could manage with her tongue. She then kissed each of his heavy testicles. 

Jimmy loved it, but wanted more. Taking her head in his hands, he lowered it over his erection. When it bumped the back of his mouth he shifted the angle until his prick lodged at the opening of her throat. When his mother offered no resistance, he held her steady and moved his hips into her face. After a moment he felt a pop as his cock entered her throat. He let go of her head and moved her hair to the side so he could watch her beautiful face descend over his tool. Jenny worked her lips and tongue on the shaft while she bobbed her head up and down, taking as much of his cock into her face as she could manage. She rolled his testicles with her fingertips and looked up at her son, locking her eyes on his. 

That's when the commercials started. His eyes on the screen, Roger said, "I thought you were gonna help your Mom."

Despite an attempt to control his voice, Jimmy's "Sure Dad," exhibited an unnatural excitement.

Roger looked at his son, noting his flushed face. Something odd was happening. "You okay? You two have fun shopping?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm sure we'll want to do it again."

That his son enjoyed shopping with his mother was odd, but the commercial ended. He grumbled, "Better you than me," and turned his attention back to the game as the conversation faded from his mind. Jenny took the opportunity to slip away. Jimmy fetched his Dad another beer and headed upstairs.

He heard the shower running in his parents' bedroom. He stopped, taking a moment to study his mother's sublime form through the shower's glass door. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. He stripped and stepped inside. Jenny was naked; soap and water dripped from her body. She took his erect cock in her hand, soaping it up as they exchanged spirited kisses. Jenny then sat on the shower's chair and let her son wash her hair, after which they scrubbed each others bodies. When done, Jenny, thinking of Emily's bald pussy, asked Jimmy, her voice coy, if he wouldn't mind helping her shave her pubes. Jimmy agreed although in the end Jenny did the shaving. Jimmy's hands were shaking in lust and Jen thought it best to keep him away from a razor. When done Jimmy turned her around, directed the shower nozzle to spray on his Mom's pussy, and fucked her from behind while she whimpered and begged in delight.

They piled out of the shower, dried each other off, and Jimmy helped blow dry and comb Jenny's hair. As they dressed - Jimmy in loose fitting gym shorts and a tee-shirt, Jenny in a short blue skirt and a baggy blouse - both sans underwear, Jimmy's phone beeped.

He picked it up. "It's from Emily. When I called the store they said she was gone, but that she'd mentioned a customer had left some bags behind. She was taking them home for safe-keeping. If the customer called she asked the manager to give him her phone number. I sent her a text. This is her reply. She said she's out of pocket now, but will get back to us later about returning our stuff. My battery's about to die so I texted her the home phone number."

"What did you think of Emily?' Jenny asked.

"She seemed very nice," Jimmy responded cautiously.

Jenny understood the reason for Jimmy's circumspection. "Well, I thought she was drop dead gorgeous," Jenny said. "She also showed me her pussy. It was completely bald. It's what inspired me to shave mine."

Jimmy grinned. Jealously was not going to be an issue.

Holding hands the incestuous mother and son headed downstairs. When they entered the den Roger, his voice slurred, said "Do you guys mind grabbing me another beer?" They headed for the kitchen, where Jimmy pushed his mother against the refrigerator and kissed her passionately while pawing her braless breasts through her blouse. They didn't hear the phone ring. Roger's stumbling gait alerted them only a moment before he stepped into the kitchen. They had time to break their kiss, but their arms were still wrapped around each other. 

Too drunk to notice how quickly Jen and Jimmy jumped apart or their bright red faces, Roger said, a happy grin on his face, "You two are sure getting along. There's a woman on the phone for you son, named Emmy I think. New girlfriend? She sounded pretty."

"Thanks Dad. I'll take it in the study and catch up with you guys in the den."

Emily told Jimmy she had their stuff. While Jimmy offered to pick it up, Emily said she and her Dad were driving their way the following weekend and could drop it off. Perhaps Jimmy and his Mom could join them for dinner? Jimmy thanked her and said that wouldn't be a problem; in fact he'd like to treat as a way to say thanks.

Distracted by the close call with his father and his throbbing dick, it would not be until the following morning that Jimmy realized that Emily had not only known that Jenny was his mother, but that he had acknowledged that fact.

Jimmy hung up the phone, grabbed a blanket from the hall closet, and headed for the den. His Mom was sitting on the couch; his Dad in his chair. Jimmy sat next to Jenny, covered both of them with the blanket, and joined in his parents' conversation. When the game came back on Jenny felt a hand on her bare thigh. Still spooked by the close call in the kitchen she whispered "Not now," and pushed Jimmy's hand away. Jimmy moved her hand aside and put his back on her thigh. When she pushed it away again, he did the same. She gave him her best stern parental look, but he was looking at the game. She continued pushing his hand away, but her son was simply too strong and determined. 

A commercial interrupted the game and Roger, noticing his wife squirming on the couch, said "You okay babe?"

She placed both hands on top of the blanket and smiled at her husband, thinking as well as I can be with your son fondling my leg. She didn't say that. She said, "Yes honey, I'm fine. Just a little cramp or something, that's all." 

Jimmy, taking advantage of the interruption, slowly, almost teasingly, slid his hand up her smooth sleek thigh. Jenny kept her hands on her lap as her husband continued the conversation. She wanted to tell Jimmy to stop, but interrupting Roger would only raise suspicion. When Jimmy's hand was within inches of her pussy she clamped her legs tightly, put on her best smile and continued talking to her husband. Jimmy tried to push his fingers closer to her pussy which was juicing up in response to her son's insolent disregard for his father's presence. Jimmy, when it became apparent he could not force his hand between his mother's thighs, suddenly changed course and ran his hand up the outside of her thigh under her skirt. 

Jenny looked at her son. He smiled, outwardly calm. Her eyes flared, trying to warn him, but he settled his fingers above her pussy. Jenny shivered in involuntary delight as he explored the newly shaven zone, but still crossed her legs denying him further access. He kept his hand resting on the top of her bare thigh under her dress, gently stroking her as they watched the game. 

They continued this way for several minutes. During the next commercial Roger said, "Need me another beer," and tried standing, but fell back into his chair. He turned to Jenny, "I guess I've had a lot, but another won't kill me. Honey, would you mind?"

Jenny jumped at the opportunity to escape Jimmy's hand. Roger, happy to have a wife so wonderful that she didn't mind if he spent the day watching football and didn't carp while he worked his way though a refrigerator full of Budweiser, said, "Thanks dear." 

When she returned Jimmy was telling his father about their shopping trip. She handed Roger the beer and sat down, making sure Jimmy excised the carnal details. Distracted, she realized she had not crossed her legs until she felt her son's hand racing up her thigh. He was fast and before she could react his hand was resting on her crotch, his fingers pressing against her pussy. She crossed her legs, trapping his hand. That left them at a stand-off: he couldn't do anything because Jen's legs had closed on his hand; she couldn't release her grip for fear of what he'd do to her pussy, which was growing hotter by the moment.

It was quite a pickle; she was sitting in a room next to her husband with her son's hand pressed against her naked sex. She had to keep Jimmy from getting inside her while trying to suppress her burgeoning arousal. Thank god for football and beer, she thought, which at the moment were consuming Roger's attention. She recalled her concern when they got home: that Jimmy would not be aggressive enough. Be careful what you wish for, she thought; this would be funny if it had been someone else. 




The Therapist's Journey Ch. 15



Distracted by these thoughts, Jenny relaxed her iron grip. Jimmy tool immediate advantage and pushed his thumb towards her clit. Her attempt to shift her position to block him failed. He started to thumb her clit; he was not gentle; it felt so damn good. She shuddered; juice dripped from her twat; she exhaled heavily. Her legs still held his hand tightly, but other than wrestling Jimmy's hand out of her lap there was nothing she could do. So she sat, watching the game while her son played with her clittie. 

It was a losing battle. Under Jimmy's expert manipulation Jenny further relaxed. As her initial panic receded, she found the fact that her son was enjoying her cunt only feet from her husband thrilling. The pleasure flowed through her and it became impossible to do anything other than smile. Her husband's occasional comment about the game only mildly distracted her. Finally, she stopped tensing her legs altogether. Jimmy, well aware of the effect he was having, took advantage. A finger sank deep into her ready wet pussy. Jenny groaned.

Roger, his voice heavily slurred, said, "You okay honey?"

Even Jimmy, afraid of being caught, froze. Jenny was non-plussed. "Uh-huh. I guess I fell asleep, I was dreaming." She smiled at her husband.

"Yeah, I'm getting sleepy too. Too much beer."

Jimmy, now knowing his Mom would not blow his cover, began forcefully finger fucking her, adding a second finger, then a third, and finally all four. Jenny bit her bottom lip, stifled a moan, and surrendered, opening her legs and slouching, giving Jimmy unimpeded access to her pussy. He didn't waste the chance and continued sliding his fingers in and out while working her clit with his thumb.

She heard her husband say something, she couldn't make out what, and Jimmy responded, "Yeah Dad." Good, she thought, let Jimmy distract her husband, all I want to do is think about my cunt. Jenny surrendered completely, marveling at what was happening: her son was finger fucking her while her husband, his father, sat a few feet away. She loved it. She felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. They turned into a flock of birds. It was wonderful; she knew she was soon going to explode like an overheated pressure cooker. She didn't want Jimmy to stop, not when she was so close and the intense forbidden pleasure felt so good, but still she worried, would she be able to stifle the bestial orgasmic howl building up in her gut?

That's when fate intervened. Her husband started to snore. She moaned, long and low. He didn't move. She let out a strong passionate moan, he didn't budge. Jimmy's fingers continued to pump rapidly in and out and the birds in her belly turned into screaming eagles. It was coming. Everything seemed to slow down and she needed it to hurry up. She was so damn close! 

She grabbed her tits through her blouse and pushed her cunt into the fingers plowing her love hole. She slumped forward, licked her lips, and told Jimmy in a low sexy growl, "You're a very bad boy," as she came. Her body shook and she buried her face in her son's shoulder, partially muffling her voice while she moaned, "Uhhhhhhhhh fuck yes," before melting down into a series of incoherent groans. While she wanted to scream, but there was no way she would get away with it, and she pressed her mouth into Jimmy, groaning in ecstatic exhilaration. For several long moments all she knew was her orgasm, it was her universe. 

Finally, she slumped against her son. He wrapped an arm around her, occasionally kissing her. When she was able to stand they woke Roger and helped him upstairs, where they undressed and pulled a blanket over him. He was soon snoring away. Jenny placed her hand on the back of her son's neck, pulling his face to hers, and at the same time forcing her hand past the band of his gym shorts to fondle his hard cock. 

She ended the kiss and placed her hands on his chest. "Honey, wait for me in your bedroom, I'll be there in a minute." And then, before he bolted from the room, "Oh, one thing. You need to learn something about girls, when we fuck," Jenny noticed, with appreciation, how the crude word sent a shudder of desire through her son, "we like the place to be neat and clean. I know I've been saying this to you for years, but from now on keep your room spic and span and the sheets washed several times a week."

Jimmy perceived the implied promise; today was not a one time thing, there'd be plenty of Mommy-pussy in the future. He replied, with a broad horny grin, "Yes Mom," and headed for his bedroom. Jenny opened her lingerie drawer, rejecting several items before settling on a sheer red baby doll. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her breasts and erect nipples, swollen with need, as well as her newly shaven cunt, were clearly visible. She ran her hands down her sides and cupped her full tits. At the risk of being immodest, she thought, she still had it - the years of careful dieting and hours in the gym had paid off. She was done with tamping down her sex drive to please her husband. And with young men like her son and Scottie available, why should she? 

Still, she thought, Jimmy might need some education about making love to a woman. Fucking him in a car in a parking garage was great and she looked forward to doing it again, but a girl did like to prolong it sometimes. She grabbed some massage oil from the bathroom and headed down the hall. When she arrived she was pleased to see her naked son making the bed. The piles of junk in his bedroom were gone. He couldn't have put them away that fast - they must be stashed in his closet - but it was a start.

Jimmy turned when he heard her enter the room. He was happily startled by the sight of his mother in the baby doll, his glance racing up and down her body, as if he couldn't quite accept the notion that his sexy mother would dress this way for him. Jenny's gaze was more focused, drifting from his eyes to his erection. She considered pushing him backward and mounting him, but stuck to her resolve to ensure to make more patient love-making part of their repertoire. She helped her son make the bed and tossed him the massage oil.

"It's time for my back rub, stud," she announced, as she lay face first on the bed.

Jimmy whistled as he observed his mother's perfect form. He wanted to lift her ass up and shove his dick in her cunt, taking her doggy style. If he'd not already dumped three loads in her twat that day he probably would have done just that. However, he had enough wisdom to understand that his mother was offering him not just a day of sex, but regular access to her cunt. The better, and wiser, side of his nature won out. Best to give her what she wanted.

Jimmy did just that, running his strong hands inside her baby doll to work her back, neck, shoulders, arms, and leg. Jill, his girlfriend, loved a back rub and his experience showed as his mother purred in contentment. Forty minutes later, coating his hands with the oil, he focused on her ass. He located her gluteus and kneaded the muscle, beginning gently and gradually building up pressure. He used the base of his palms and his fingers to work out the few knots he found. His mother was completely relaxed. It was time.

He lightly kissed the small of her back before leaving a series of teasing kisses across her ass cheeks. His Mom's subdued coos let him know he was on the right track. He delighted her sweet ass with a line of barely perceptible diaphanous bites. Jenny gasped and when Jimmy slipped his hand between her legs and into her cunt there was no resistance. His Mom was soaking wet. 

He spread her cheeks. Her light brown anus was clearly visible. He blew air on it and ran his tongue up the length of the crevice, licking her anus several times before forcing the tip of his tongue inside.

Jenny let out a sharp short groan, "Uuunnnhhh." Her husband never paid this kind of attention to her butt. She loved her husband, but any notion of fidelity had died when she pulled Scottie's cock into her pussy the evening before. She loved her son's cock and wanted more, a lot more. She was no longer going to deny herself the joy of sex. And not the kind of sex her husband prescribed, late at night, in the bedroom, lights off (although, she mused, there was nothing wrong with keeping that in the mix), but impulsive sex, public sex, crazy sex. She would return to a time where she exposed her sexual self to the world and took advantage of whatever resulted.

But first there was Jimmy. Not only was he a magnificent fuck, but his cock was right down the hall. She did not want exclusive rights, but she did want to make sure it'd be there when she wanted it. At the moment he was more than eager, but would the novelty of fucking his mother wear off? After all, she was twice his age. Then something else crossed her mind. Jimmy's animal energy in the car and now evident skills in the bedroom confirmed what she had long suspected, he was no virgin; Jimmy and Jill were doing it. She thought about Jill. She was not only brilliant and sweet, but tall, graceful, and lithesome with light blonde hair that hung down to her sweet round, slightly soft, ass. Who wouldn't be fucking that? But still, maybe she could offer Jimmy something Jill didn't.

Jenny reached back and spread her ass cheeks. Jimmy forced his tongue into her asshole and, when it grew tired, licked hard around the brown puckered opening. Jenny responded with enthusiasm, groaning, and when he pushed his tongue inside her, bleating in pleasure. 

"Oh baby, ohh baby, keep it up. That feels so good."

Jimmy, coating a finger in her copiously flowing pussy, played with the opening of her asshole as he continued kissing and taking soft bites on her ass cheeks. His Mom was gasping and wiggling. Jimmy thought it was time to see how far she'd go. He re-coated the finger with her pussy juice and inserted it, up to the first digit, in her asshole. Jenny, eager for the invader, pushed her ass back and the finger sank all the way in. Her sharp response, "UMMMMM OH YEAH!" relieved Jimmy's momentary fear that he had gone too far.

Jimmy wiggled his finger in his mother's tight anus while taking short sharp nibbles on her ass. Inspired by his mother's feral mewls, he rammed three fingers into her cunt. 

"OH YEAH JIMMY, THAT'S THE WAY."

Jenny raised herself to her knees, allowing her to move her ass freely in time with Jimmy's fingers. Then, the pitch of her voice rising, asked, "Does Jill let you fuck her up the ass?"

In normal times Jimmy's response to any parental question about his sex life would be to dissemble. These were not normal times. He was focused on his mother's asshole and the way she cooed and sighed as he made love to it. He had never ass-fucked a girl before, but his mother's reaction had given birth to the hope this would be the first time. Thus, Jimmy simply said, "No."

"Oh baby, then can I be the first? I used to love being fucked up the ass, but its been years. Your dad won't do it. How 'bout it baby, wanna fuck your mommy's ass. Wanna ream out her tush?"

"Shit, yeah!!"

He coated his penis with the oil, dripped some down the crevice of her ass, lay his dick between her ass cheeks, and slid it up and down, still wondering if his Mom might back out.

She did not. "Oh baby, your cock feels so good, it's so fricking big. It's time. You've taken your Mommy's pussy, now take her asshole. Cornhole your horny, crazy, sluttly mother." And then stifling a laugh she added, "I wonder what the word is, you're already a mother-fucker, now you can be a mother-cornholer."

Images of some of his favorite internet porn flicked through Jimmy's mind; he wanted to see how far his Mom's ass would stretch. He pushed her down to the bed and straddled her, holding himself up on one arm. He pushed the tip of his cock into her asshole, loving how the brown color at the entrance yielded to the pink inside. He leaned slightly back, using his cock as a lever to open her up. He then leaned forward, again leveraging her open. That's when he lost his balance. Her sphincter popped open and the head, followed by four inches of his cock, entered her. 

Jimmy had not intended to plunge into her like this. He had intended to enter her nice and slow. But, before he could regain his balance he had shoved half his dick into her.

Jenny's body jerked. It felt like an iron girder, without warning, had been rammed up her ass. She bellowed and arched her back, pushing her stomach and ass into the mattress in a pointless attempt to escape. She glanced in the mirror trying to figure out what the hell her son was doing, but the trepidation on his face showed he was scared; it had been an accident. Jenny, recalled how she had long ago learned to love the pleasure-pain of a good ass fuck, and decided, what the hell, I might as well get it over with. She pushed her ass up, filling herself with the rest of his masterful dick. "Uuuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhh!!"

Concerned about the look on Jimmy's face she decided to let him know it was okay. Her voice a gumbo of lust, pain, and desire, she half-said, half-groaned, "Oh baby, you have a wonderful cock, beautiful cock. Fuck me, fuck my asshole with it, make me yours, show me who I belong to." The Jenny reached behind her, took hold of Jimmy's neck and pulled his head close to hers. She wanted the moment to be intimate, but also wanted to make sure he understood her fervid need. "I want your seed, I want it in my ass. Fuck me hard. Tell me when you're going to cum. I want to know."

Jimmy, inspired, began plunging into her without regard to her comfort. He was amazed, he was practically raping his mother's asshole and she was begging for more. She was offering herself to him, letting him know that this was not a one time thing, that from now on he was the man of the house, that his mother's body was his. Words came tumbling from him, "God yes, that's it, you sexy bitch, my little slave, my slut, my dirty little slut - so hungry for me, my fat dick in you ass..."

Catalyzed by the lingering discomfort, Jenny gasped as mini-orgasms swept through her. She struggled to hold on, trying to tamp down the massive orgasm she felt simmering inside. She wanted the tension to build; she wanted to wait until the moment Jimmy dumped his load into her. She was becoming more and more aroused as long-forgotten nerve endings in her asshole were resurrected and natural lubricants mixed with those her son had used. She loved it. She loved the way her son's fat hard dick probed each and every crevice of her tight asshole, the way her newly confident son asserted his dominance over her. Jenny panted as she felt the pressure continue to build within her.

"OHH BABY! I NEED THIS! OH I NEED SO BADLY TO BE FUCKED! OH YES! FUCK ME HONEY! OH YEAH FUCK ME! UMMMMM OH YEAH! YOU'RE SO BIG AND THICK! FUCK I LOVE YOUR COCK! UMMMM! OH! I LOVE IT! FUCK ME! I NEED YOUR CUM, FILL ME UP WITH YOUR CUM!!"

Jimmy needed no more hint that his Mom was ready. With a growl he started pounding her, devoid of a sympathy, feeling nothing other than the friction of the tightest hottest place he imagined his cock would ever be. 

"TAKE MY CUM BITCH, TAKE MY CUM UP YOUR ASS!!"

Jenny knew how sore her asshole would be in the morning. She didn't care. What was important was the aggressive way her son was taking her. Whatever trepidation he had felt about fucking his mother had been forgotten. She wanted her son as her lover and as he pounded her asshole with complete abandon, she was sure he'd be back for more. She had no objection to her husband's polite gentlemanly love-making, but the joy of being fucked without reference to the rules, for the sheer joy of it, like dogs in heat, came pouring back to her. This was what she wanted. This is what her son was giving her now and what Scottie had given her yesterday. She looked in the mirror. There was no longer doubt in her son's face; it was a mask of crazed single-minded lust. She looked at herself; she liked what she saw; a beautiful woman who loved being fucked and was being fucked so damn well.

The sensations in Jenny's asshole merged with her cunt's carnal cravings. Her swollen clit emerged from its hood and she dragged it across a hard fold in the bed spread. Her son's massive cock, as it repeatedly rammed in and out, worked her g-spot through the thin wall of flesh separating her cunt and rectum. It was un-fucking-believable. She needed Jimmy to fuck her intensely, hard, almost brutally. Her voice was strained with passion and desperation when she cried, "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, REAM ME OUT YOU FUCKING STUD." For a brief second her mind's eye drifted to her husband, snoozing down the hall, and then the image was supplanted by a blinding, almost painful, explosion of light as an orgasm ripped through her. Jenny let out a ear-piercing scream, more animal than human, as the orgasm whipped-sawed through her body with a physical intensity that relegated the clitoral and vaginal orgasms she had limited herself for years to a lesser universe.

Jimmy had known his mother was beautiful and in the past twenty-four hours had learned of her sexual side, but the writhing slut underneath him, squirming and begging for more while he jack-hammered his cock in and out of her ass, was something beyond his imagination. He had discovered the mother-lode. A cock-hungry bitch ready to try anything and available most any time of the night or day. And she was his mother; the sexiest hottest woman he knew. 

When his mother screamed as she was swept away by the tsunami of her orgasm, her anus twitched, convulsed, and contracted, clamping down on his cock; it was beyond tight. His balls churned and another bucket of cum shot the length of his cock, coating the inside of her anus. Jimmy's body shook and shivered, thrashing on top of his mother's convulsing form.

They lay together, their sweaty spent bodies slumped against each other. It was Jenny, re-claiming in part the mother's role, who spoke first.

"Two rules stud. First, and most important, you and I are going to fuck. We are going to fuck a lot. And if you have any fantasies, bring them on, it's time to live them. You are certainly going to live mine. Second, while I expect discretion, we are free to have other lovers. I don't expect you to give up Jill and from the look on Lauren's face last night, I suspect she's open to a lot more."

How did she know about Lauren? Jimmy picked his head from the bed and looked at his mother. He was about to ask, but stopped, it was a question best left for later.

When it was clear that Jimmy was not going to respond, Jenny said, "Agreed?"

"Agreed." 

About thirty minutes later Jenny struggled to her feet and headed to the door. Jimmy's eyes greedily followed her and then, as she was about to leave, he said, "Mom, run a finger up your ass." 

When she did she felt his sticky seed and smiled. "Now who's cum is this?" she asked, before sucking a dab of it from the tip of her finger and winking. "Good night stud. As I said, get ready to fuck me often and hard."