1 comments/ 5235 views/ 3 favorites Transfer By: FullyLoadedUK I've never really been one to see the end of a relationship coming. It's always a surprise and often hurts. The story I'm about to tell is about the most clean break I've ever been through. Still didn't see it coming mind you. For the last two years of high school and most of the first year at college, I was dating my red haired pixie fantasy - Dawn. To explain, she had a pixie hair cut, she wore pixie boots and her natural hair colour was red - often however her hair would coordinate with the colour of her boots. She had a Tinkerbell obsession that included her having found a pair of girls panties with Tinkerbell on them that she loved to wear. She had a pair on the night of my eighteenth birthday, she had customized then by stitching in the words "Where dreams come true" on them. The contents of the panties certainly fulfilled some of my dreams that night and they she left them as a souvenir afterwards.. Going back a little, it started with a game of hide and seek weeks after we moved into the neighbourhood. She tripped over her shoelace and cut her knee as we ran to hide. I helped her up, tied her lace and kissed the boo boo better. When I stood up to face her after that, she jump into me and kissed me hard on the lips smearing the blood on my lips onto hers. It stopped suddenly though when we heard the coming, ready or not call. Dawn and I shared the same free period on Mondays and would often meet up at the Student Union lounge. Sometimes, we'd get lucky and the office would be open and we'd use that for some more intimate fun. On this Monday, she was waiting in the doorway of the office when I arrived. Blue was the colour of the day - hair, shoes, jeans and jacket. Accented by a white ruffled blouse that she already had unbuttoned enough to show she had no bra on. As I approached, she just turned and walked in. I closed and locked the door - as I usually do on days like these - then turned towards the sofa. To my surprise, there sat with Dawn was our friend Jennifer. The two were an interesting contrast, Dawn was a waifish girl - a gap toothed Kate Moss type - and Jennifer was the more sporty type - a black haired, bespectacled Jennifer Lawrence type . Not that you could what Jennifer's body was like normally, as she preferred the big baddy hoodies most of the time. But not today, today she had one a black t-shirt that was far too small to properly contain her ample breasts and clearly showed she didn't have a bra on. Her legs where clad in tight white jeans and black leather thigh boots. If I didn't know any better, I would say that Dawn had dressed her for me. Dawn patted the sofa next to her and between the two of them. I did as I was told and sat down, it was a squeeze though as the sofa was only really made for two. So there I am, sitting between two hot young ladies with their hips and thighs pressing into mind. I was a little uncomfortable with the situation because I'd been aroused when I'd saw Dawn in the doorway and that was being heightened now sitting between these two, feeling the warmth from their bodies. "What's going on?" Dawn shushed me, leaned over and looked at Jennifer. They each placed a hand on the inside thigh of the leg nearest them and started to squeeze and rub me. My cock bolted forward like it had just been struck by lightning, straight into the solid material block that contains the zipper on my jeans. It was the case of the immovable object versus the unstoppable force, it was also pain and pleasure rolled into one. I also couldn't figure out the protocol here, should I try to adjust myself? And for that matter, what was going on here? They shifted positions unison, turning to me. Both leaned in and sucked on my earlobe. I bolted upward, well more of a flinch given the girls had me pinned pretty well. They both smiled at the reaction they gotten out of me. They leaned in again and stuck their tongues in my ears - no it was more like they were French kissing my ears. I almost came in my pants and my breathing was rapidly sounding like a marathon runner after the race. I was disappointed when they pulled out. I turned to Dawn and she kissed me, tongues dueling in our mouths frantically while Jennifer moved her hand up and was rubbing the material just above my cock. Dawn pulled away, rested her hand on my jaw and turned my head towards Jennifer. She was waiting for me and dove in kissing me with wreckless abandon. I felt conflicted, there was more passion kissing Jennifer than I'd felt with Dawn - my girlfriend. Dawn for her part had slowly pulled down the zipper on my jeans then fished in my boxers and withdrew her prize, my cock. It was a relief to have it free of it's denim prison. A second hand joined Jennifers on the shaft of my cock and in unison they started to stroke me. Both girls were also now kissing and sucking on my neck - later I would find symmetrically placed hickeys on my neck. Together, they adjusted their positions so their heads were resting on my thighs. Jennifer holding my cock in the air as the two slowly and again in unison licked up my shaft then took turns to suck and lick the head. Jennifer returned to my mouth and kissing me, giving me a taste of myself. Dawn started to bob up and down on my cock with her tongue taking a very active part in proceedings. They switched again, Jennifer took over the sensual assault on my cock. Her ways seems more naive, more tentative than Dawn's but excited me more. Dawn kissed me firmly on the lips, moved her head around to my ear and whispered a single work to me. "Enjoy." She then left the sofa and the room. Jennifer continued to work away on my cock with her lovely mouth and tongue. She seemed more confident with what she was doing, more in control with each bob of her head. "I'm cumming" She stopped bobbing her head but instead used her mouth and tongue while pumping my cock with her hand. My balls tightened, my cock twitched and she sucked down harder as my first volley hit the back her throat. She swallowed each and every load like pro. Her tongue danced over my cock's head before you removed me from her mouth like she was searching for more seed to swallow. We looked into each others eyes, I didn't see a friend anymore. We kissed, a long and breathtaking kiss. "Did you like that? It was my first." She asked proudly. "Mind blowing" "Good". Her smile beamed brighter. "What just happened?" Turns out, Dawn had just broken up with me. Dawn had noticed a very strong mutual attraction between Jennifer and I and had confronted Jennifer about it. She'd admitted she wanted me and so the pair hatched the plan to - in Jennifer's words - transfer my ownership to her. Jennifer and I did date after that and I ended up being her first but over time we drifted apart. Dawn and I remained friends, actually still are to this day. Transfer of Ownership I hate flying. I really and truly hate flying. The turbulence we've hit on this flight is probably the worst I've ever been exposed to. Can turbulence cause a plane to crash? Fuck.........I hope not, or I'm doomed. Well, so are my fellow passengers, but I'm more worried about my own hide than I am about theirs. In a desperate attempt to stop picturing my end in a fiery plane crash, I think back to the events that led up to my trembling hands clutching the armrests of a window seat on a Virgin Airlines transatlantic flight. As far back as I can recall, I have always been the go-getting decision maker. Even when I was a child my brothers and sisters would look to me to pick out or create games for us to play. As an adolescent I worked hard to build the foundation for a successful future for myself and was on my own by the time I turned 17. Now in my adulthood I am a confident, well rounded, successful young woman with a bright professional career ahead of me. I've spent the past 20-something years of my life being boring as hell.... making choices, making money, making decisions, and I see at least another 40-something years left of doing the same. Decisions, responsibility, honor. Blah. Blah. Blah. Boring. Perhaps it was that thought and boredom which started me on this crazy road. I'm well known for coming up with some pretty harebrained schemes, but this one could very possibly be the most outlandish. I needed something different. Something to shake up my boring and predictable life a little bit. Something to challenge and shock me. Late one evening, I joined a website for people involved in alternative lifestyles. I thought as far as 'different' went it's about as different as it gets in my vanilla ice cream sort of life. It's sort of insane what people get up to on the internet. I read some stuff that I'm pretty sure no matter how old I get, I'll never be old enough to read, and some other stuff that no amount of bleach will ever erase from my mind. While wading through all of the crazy, I noticed one man in particular who stood out to me. First I noticed Him for His avatar (a 40-something year old dark haired, good looking gentleman) but before long I was paying more and more attention to each one of His posts. When I say I was 'paying attention' the reality is that I was hanging on His every word. He said things that fascinated me. Things I had never let myself think of before. Things I found secretly titillating. It embarrassed me to feel such a compelling connection to a man on the internet. Especially a man on the internet who had no idea I was alive. After a few weeks of hero worshipping His posts from afar, I worked up the courage to send Him a 'hello' message privately. If joining the forum was a step in the right direction, that message to Him would most likely be considered The Turning Point. Within hours I was sucked into the vortex of psychological sensation that was so intense I wondered if I would ever be the same. All of this was happening online! I felt like I was turning into one of those insane weirdos whose stories I had read about and judged as bonkers. It took me very little time to confess to Him my secret fantasy of ditching my boring, predictable life and live a life in which I had no decision making or choices to worry about. I felt as though He expected this confession, because what He suggested next felt as though it had been ripped from the darkest recesses of my soul; a place that I had no idea existed until He opened my eyes to it. Go live with Him. A stranger? A man I had met on the internet? Live with Him for a period of one year. During this year, He would own me. I would become His property. A glorified slave, really. He would become the truth by which I lived and loved. I would have no decisions to make but those that He laid out in front of me. My choices would be the choices He felt compelled to give me. In the most reckless decision I have ever made in my entire life, I packed up my little apartment, put everything into storage, booked a plane ticket, and here I sit, on a plane speeding into my future. Hurtling toward the next year of my life. I'm excited. I'm afraid. I'm aroused. I'm anxious. So many emotions crammed into one tiny body I feel as thought I'll be suffocated. The plane lands. Sweet Jesus I can't believe I am seriously doing this. I get off the plane and clear customs. Heart pounding, hands shaking, and walking carefully so that I don't trip all over myself and look like a bumbling idiot, I walk through the gate and my eyes land on him. He's beautiful. I hate to use the cheesy 'tall, dark, and handsome' descriptors for Him, but it's all so true. He's tall. He's dark, and He's terribly handsome. He's dressed in the latest style and His clothing is quite obviously costly. I feel under dressed in my sneakers, jeans, and sweater. He smiles down at me and even though I'm still beyond nervous, I feel myself sink into His easygoing companionship. "It's wonderful to meet you" He says with a gorgeous British accent. "Um... thank you. I'm excited to meet you too. Well. Mostly. Sort of not really completely excited because I'm nervous too and tired. Not tired of you. I mean I'm tired from the trip. Well, the flight. I didn't do anything on the flight, but that usually makes me more tire...... um. Never mind". Oh God I am such an imbecile. Awesome first impression. I kind of wish the floor would open up and swallow me. "Sweetheart. Relax." He takes my hand in a reassuring way, and leads me to His Mercedes. The hour long car ride to His home is spent making small talk about the flight, weather, and various other mundane topics that keep my mind occupied. Neither of us mention the reason for my visit. I think I may have made a huge mistake. What normal, sane, educated human being does something like this? Not me, that's for sure. There's nothing normal, sane, or educated about this. I want to ask Him to take me back to the airport. I'm about to open my mouth and make the request when He slows to a stop in a residential neighborhood, and I realize with a sinking sensation that we're at His home. I suppose it will be my home too for the next 365 days. I feel like I'm going to vomit. The house is so neat I'm afraid to touch anything. The house is in stark contrast to my deeply embedded sense of chaos. I barely resist the urge to push a few picture frames out of place. He brings in all of my luggage, and I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. He sits down across the room from me, and is quiet for a few moments. He finally breaks the silence. "I think it is silly that we are dancing around the purpose of your visit here. It's time we got down to business". My heart stops, but I nod stiffly. "This is the first lesson I will teach you darling" He softly comments "When I say something to you, a single nod is not enough. I expect a gentle 'yes, Sir' or 'no, Sir' every time. Do you understand?" I nod. He raises a brow, and I immediately correct my misstep with a hastily mumbled "Yes, Sir". "Also it is important for you to know that from today forward, you no longer own the name you were given at birth. Today will be a rebirth of sorts. I shall call you Princess when I am pleased with you. Should you give me cause to be displeased, I will call you nothing at all. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir" I respond "Good. While you are here, there are rules you must follow. Failure to follow these rules will result in consequences. First we discuss the rules. Instead of just going over them verbally, I have typed them up for you so that you won't forget them. I expect that within the week you will have them memorized and be able to recite them verbatim" He hands me way more paper than I expect to have to deal with. My eyes instantly go to the rules section: RULES You will surrender to me all of your worldly possessions upon arrival, and only earn them back as I see fit. This includes the clothing you are wearing, all luggage, toiletries, passport, cellphone, and anything else you may have traveled with. You will always be physically ready to please me. This includes but is not limited to- Legs, armpits, and bikini area are to be shaved or waxed at all times. Hair should always be neatly styled. Makeup, once earned, should always be carefully applied. "Yes, Sir" and "No, Sir" are the appropriate ways in which you will answer any questions I might ask. You are to speak only when spoken to. You will never begin a conversation with me, or anyone. You will wait patiently until I acknowledge you, and only speak after I have given you permission. When you are allowed to speak, you will speak like a lady unless I have commanded you otherwise. Ladies do not use vulgarities. Similar to the above rule, you are to ask and wait for my permission before performing any action- be it sitting, standing, using the restroom, having a drink, going outside, etc. You are to complete all household chores while I am away from home. You will keep a journal and maintain a faithful record of our time together. You will use this journal to complete writing tasks when I give them to you as well. I expect this journal to be kept neat and be recorded in your best penmanship. You will use paper and a pen, you will not type. My meals are to be prepared carefully and to my exact specifications. They must be ready immediately upon my return home. You will be expected to do many, many tasks for me. "No" is not an option. The only thing that will get you out of doing any of these tasks is a safeword, which will henceforth be the color "Blue". If you need to use the safeword, whatever we are doing will be stopped immediately. It may only be used once, and once used, our agreement is over. I will immediately return to your possession all of your things, and drive you to the airport where you can make travel arrangements to return home. After that point, I will never contact you in any way. So use the word very, very carefully. Wow. He really put some thought into this. "The reality of this situation is that with the rules comes an expectation that you will follow them. However, I am aware that this will not always be the case, therefore I have established a system of punishment should you at any time break my rules or fail to perform a task to my satisfaction. Please turn the page" I turn the page, and wish I hadn't. PUNISHMENTS Tier 1 - These punishments will come about primarily through your own intention to make them happen. I can already tell that you are a complex submissive and as a thoughtful and caring Master I need to create an environment through which you flourish and are happy. In your case this requires there to be boundaries that you can test and for which the punishment is definitely a punishment but not something which is so severe that you are frightened of me or my methods, your spirit is broken, or your feelings are damaged. These punishments will be as frequent as your transgressions. Note that while you may test a boundary I will never let you break it. The same boundaries will always remain in place, unchanged and the punishments for violating one will be consistent. During the period of punishment you are forbidden to partake in any of the Tier 1 rewards(which you will read about later) - in other words this will immediately cancel out any of those. This is a small list of possibilities to give you an idea and should not be seen or looked at as an all inclusive list: The Belt - 3 lashes across your naked rear with sufficient force the marks will remain for 10-30 minutes. Between each lash you will repeat "I love you Master, thank you". Failure to do so immediately after each lashing will discount that lash and add another to the total you will receive Nipple Torture- Nipple clamps and chain will be tightened to make you wince and which you will be led to each of your home duties by for a period not exceeding 1 hour (I will never tell you exactly how long that period will be) Waxing- Hot candle wax will be dripped on to your nipples and clitoris from a height of 15 cm. You will be restrained by both hands and feet during this period. You will thank your Master each time you feel the wax against your skin, and tell me you love me. You will be forbidden from hiding behind the front door when you open it and must always appear completely naked - period of half a day You will watch me fuck my wife, and/or anyone else I decide and you will remain seated for the entire period without movement or comment - at the end you will thank your Master and express your love and devotion. You will also be expected to clean my cock with your mouth. Tier 2 - I doubt you will plan for these to happen. Neither you nor I will find these punishments particularly pleasurable. This will usually take place when you have either refused to follow a command or have failed to follow it adequately. You will also get a Tier 2 punishment if you are seen or caught pleasuring yourself in any way during the day a Tier 1 punishment is handed down. The punishment is any of what I decide from the list below or other similar punishments: Sex with someone you find physically unappealing. 12 lashes with the belt split in two periods of 6 with at least 2 hours between sessions. You will be required to come back to me by yourself and politely beg for the second session. Failure to do so within the allotted time frame resets the punishment and we begin from the beginning. Mild electric shock treatment with a Tens machine on your nipple and clitoris -- Session no more than 5-10 minutes In sub-zero Winter weather you will stand in the garden completely naked for a safe but extremely uncomfortable length of time (depending on temperature) upon returning you will NOT be permitted to warm yourself by the fire but will perform fellatio on your Master followed by being fingered, fisted and then fucked. At the end of this punishment you may warm yourself if you are still cold You will stand naked in the corner of the living room, facing the wall, holding a lamp and may only move to turn it on and off at the request of the household - period 2-3 hours Tier 3 - It will break your Master's heart to have to issue a Tier 3 punishment and it will be an absolute last resort designed to pull the Mastership back from the brink of collapse through a terrible punishment that would reassure your commitment. You will receive this punishment if you continually receive Tier 2 punishments through not following your Master's commandments. You will receive this punishment if you so flagrantly break the rules of our Mastership engagement that you have undermined its entire fabric. You will get one chance to defend yourself but I suspect the chances of success to be very unlikely. This is very serious. If you are issued a Tier 3 punishment we are knocking at the door of never seeing each other again. You will have to search deep inside yourself to decide what you want out of life and whether you can live without me in it. You will not know in advance what the punishment will be, only that it will be severe. You may safeword out of it, but that will mean the end. "As your Master I take very little pleasure in performing anything above the Tier 1 punishments. I know that you will get the devil in you at times and will push against boundaries JUST so you get a punishment as you will like to be reminded, physically, of your place. However I feel certain you will never want a Tier 2 or god forbid Tier 3 punishment due to their severity. Understand that you will always have a safe word you can use to prevent a punishment, if you use it, never forget, you must pack everything you own and leave my Mastership and my life. This is non-negotiable. Before being punished at anything other than Tier 1 you will have the right to speak and defend your actions (or lack of them). I am a caring and loving Master and while I may be firm, I will always be fair. This doesn't mean you will easily talk yourself out of your punishment and I will be the last word on whether you are guilty or not. It's possible it will get commuted to a lower Tier or even acquitted but understand these will be exceptional circumstances." Whoa. Holy shit. Um... Blue?? BLUE! This is insanity. What am I thinking?? And WHY AM I TURNED ON??? I think there is something wrong with me, and I know there is something wrong with Him. This is not the way decent people live their lives. "Do you find these rules and punishments acceptable?" "Well, do I have any say in them?" I fire back. "Of course you do. You may say 'blue' and leave immediately. You don't need to abide by a single one of my rules or endure a single punishment. You may go home." He picked up the keys to his car. "NO!" I cry out automatically "I agree to abide by your rules". He raises his eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "Um.... Sir?" Silence. "I agree to abide by your rules, Sir". He breaks out into a beautiful smile. "My God Princess, you are going to be such a joy to work with". The look He gives me while softly stating this makes my heart sing, but I don't understand why. I don't even know Him. Why do I care so much what He thinks of me? When am I already so much in love with Him? Wait up. Did He say something about a wife??? I'm about to open my mouth to call him out about the whole 'wife' thing when he plows forward. "Flip the page please, and read through the rewards, because along with rules and punishment, there will be rewards. Rewards which are so sweet you will work fervently to earn them and rejoice in fulfilling them" Rewards Rewards will also be done in a tiered structure. Depending on how you have pleased me and how well you have followed your commandments - along with you fulfilling all your duties - will depend on the level of reward. Tier 1 Awards -- You can expect to get these frequently and easily, likely every day depending on your behavior. Typically if you are performing at this level you will get the rewards without any ceremony or discussion - for example when you ask if you can wash your clothes I will simply reply 'yes'. Another example is I may come up to you and passionately and tenderly kiss you. Kissing on the lips, and other forms of physical tenderness. Being permitted to sit in my presence Being allowed to pleasure yourself Being allowed to pleasure me Being allowed to shower, bathe, or use the restroom with the bathroom door closed Being permitted to wash and dry your clothes Tier 2 Awards -- This reward level requires you to have done something above and beyond my level of already high expectation. These are what give you the incentive to do more than the bare minimum. Expect to get these less frequent, perhaps weekly although maybe as infrequent as monthly or frequent as daily - it all depends how I feel and how you act. I choose the reward you get, you get no input. On occasion I may decide you can have two from the list (sleep with me and talk to someone outside of the family unit for example) Sleep with me without anyone else being in the room and bed for one night Get to choose the positions we do during one session of sex Wear clothing in the house for one half of one day Speak to someone outside of our family unit (phone call, internet forum, instant messenger) Receive a massage from a person I pick Be permitted to not have sex during your menstrual period. Tier 3 Awards - these are incredibly rare and damn well almost require an act of congress. If you get one this year you will have done well! The Tier 3 award will include ALL the Tier 1 awards and most of Tier 2 as a base level plus one of the following that YOU will choose A weekend away with just me in a luxury hotel and where you are treated as a Princess and an equal Transfer of Ownership $500 on new clothes with no input from me unless you specifically request it Three days of vacation - you can go and be yourself somewhere. Perhaps visit family Again, this is not a complete list. As we progress, we may add more rules, punishments, and rewards to these lists. Only time will tell. "Do you find all of this to be both reasonable and acceptable?" He asks "Yes Sir" "Excellent, darling. There is no time like the present to get started on this." He unfolds himself from His chair and stands before me. He folds His arms comfortably across His chest. "I believe you are wearing a few things which belong to me". I look down at myself, and back at Him in confusion. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what you're talking about". "First Rule, Princess" I run through my mind and try to figure out what He means. First rule? I just read pages and pages of rules, responsibilities, punishments, and I can't even remember what else. What was the first rule? I'm already getting used to the 'Yes, Sir', 'No, Sir' thing. Worldly possessions. Ohmygod. He's really not kidding. He sees the realization dawn on my face and smiles softly. "Now, Princess." Slowly, I kick my shoes off and remove my socks. I buy myself some time taking my jewelry off. "Darling, I have no fear helping you disrobe, and as you are wearing clothing that belongs to me, I will happily tear each item off of your delectable body without hesitation if you don't move at least twice as fast as you are now". I freeze. He wants me naked. I'm so frightened my hands feel numb. I have the weirdest sensation of being suspended over my body and looking down at myself as the scene plays out. He takes a step forward. I take a frightened step back. In my haste I've forgotten about my luggage strewn across the floor and I fall backward, landing on my rear end. He is on me before I can blink. My shirt and bra are sliced cleanly down the center with a tiny but lethal looking razor I hadn't even realized He was holding. "Must I do the rest for you, or can you manage on your own?" I scramble back to my feet as I shrug the tattered remnants of my clothing from my shoulders and unbutton the fly of my jeans. My breasts are heaving from the rapid intake of oxygen his little razor inspired. I see His gazed fixed on me, and my nipples pull into tight little pebbles underneath the soft caress of His eyes. Denim and cotton tangle with one another as I step hastily out of my jeans and panties. I stumble but am able to stay upright this time. It hits me that I'm naked now. Goosebumps cover my skin. He moves closer. So close I could reach out and touch Him if I weren't trembling so desperately out of both fear and anticipation. One rough finger brushes across an erect coral nipple. I unconsciously catch my breath and sway toward him. He reaches deftly between my thighs and runs his fingertips along my slick pussy lips. "So wet Princess. You were born for this, weren't you? I can smell your musk in the air already". I blush in agony. I can't help but move my hips almost imperceptibly. I need more than the soft touch He's giving me. It's part humiliation at His words, and part an unfurling sense of triumph. I can feel He is pleased with my nudity. And need. So much need. But I need something else. My mind is so clouded by desire I can't think straight. But there's something in my head. I need.... I need.... Something. Something to say. OH GOD! That's it! I never told him. I have to tell Him. If I don't and He finds out, I suspect I will be in a great deal of trouble- and I have no way of hiding this particular secret from Him. He walks around me. Around and around. He inspects my body. He touches me gently, over and over again. His touch ignites fire on my skin every place it lands. "I'm a virgin" I blurt. He freezes behind me, his hardness pressing into the cleft between my butt cheeks. "Excuse me?" "Oh God. I'm a virgin. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you earlier but I was afraid if I did you wouldn't want me to come because I didn't have enough experience and it's just that I grew up religious and was always told not to give up my virginity to anyone but my husband and I know you're not going to be my husband because you're apparently someone else's husband and that's a fact I would really like to discuss with you sometime soon but I know I need to tell you because I read that it.... Uhmm... it hurts. When you lose your virginity it hurts. And so I'm scared because I suspect you're going to want to have sex with me based on the fact that you are touching... um... you're touching my...." "Say it darling" He seems so amused "What am I touching?" "My..... um.... my nipples" "What else, love? What else am I touching" He asks as he slips a finger into my wetness and caresses the sensitized nub of flesh there. "My Pussy. You're touching my pussy.......... Sir" He's silent. I'm dying a million deaths. I'm so embarrassed. How has a woman in this day and age made it through high school and college with her virginity intact? And what self respecting adult can not say the "P" word out loud without blushing? "Have you ever been naked before a man?" "No, Sir" comes my small response. "I am your first?" He pushes. "Yes, Sir" "Lay back on the couch" He firmly commands. I can not deny that voice. I comply immediately. "Spread your thighs" I hesitate, but my hesitation is brief. My fear of His punishments outweigh my fear of Him seeing me this intimately. I close my eyes, and feel His warm tongue dance gently against my clitoris. I gasp in shock. I try to shift away, but He holds me firmly in His hands. I squirm. It feels so exquisite. It's nothing like the way my fingers felt the few times I used them late at night in bed. His tongue is so wet, and the sight of His dark hair between my supple thighs intensifies the sensation. His tongue is inside of me. I can't breathe. I'm so overwhelmed by sensation I have never experienced before. Harder and faster His tongue flicks against my clit. I can feel something tightening inside of me. Something urgent. Something that forces me to rock my hips helplessly against his tongue. I'm close. It can't get any more intense than it is right now. Just a few more flicks of His tongue and I will be lost forever. He stops. I cry out and attempt to direct His head back to the place I need Him so desperately. He pins me with His stare and I stop immediately. The sound of a zipper sliding down snaps me out of my grief at His departure. His cock is in His hand. I have never seen a cock in real life this close before. It's nowhere near as frightening as I had expected. I'm too excited to try something new. "My sweet, innocent little Princess, consider this your first lesson in sex and sensuality. You will learn, during your time with me, to be an amazing cocksucker. I will settle for nothing less than absolute perfection from you in this. Open your mouth". I obey. My need for release is desperate but I wrap my lips clumsily around His cock. He takes my hand in His and shows me how to wrap it around His base as I lick and tongue the salty tip. His other hand is wrapped in my hair, guiding my head, setting the pace with which He enters my mouth. When I hear His breathing become heavier I know I am doing the right combination of movements and I go faster. My heart soars. I am doing well! He is happy with me! His hips thrust forward and His balls slap against me. "Ahh Princess. Fuck. You are a natural. Not every woman is born knowing how to please a man. My God you are amazing. Suck it sweetheart, suck your Masters cock. Taste my cum beautiful girl, savor it, I'm so fucking close to exploding down your throat that I need you to listen closely". He says through labored breaths, "You must be a good girl and take it all. Don't even consider wasting a drop. A good slut would never let a drop of her Masters cum go to waste. Do you want to be a good slut? Do you want to be MY good slut?" He pumps his cock deep into my throat. Sweet Jesus yes. Yes I want to be His slut. I squeeze my thigh muscles together rhythmically as He fucks my face and within moments I feel His cock swell as He forces Himself to the back of my throat and explodes with salty wetness across my tongue and fills my throat. I desperately swallow it all as I take the last mouthful and I tighten my thigh muscles hard enough to push myself over the edge. I shudder. "Clean Princess, don't just swallow it, you have to now lick my cock clean". He needn't tell me twice. I'm not ready to let Him go. I contentedly lick every drop of his pleasure from His shaft. "Do not consider lying to me. Did you make yourself orgasm, Princess?" Shyly I look at the floor and respond "Yes, Sir". I'm afraid I will be punished for this misstep. "Beautiful" his voice is full of pride "Normally I would demand that you never orgasm until I have given you permission to do so, but you are so untried there is no way you would be physically capable of holding off your release. I want you to fall in love with orgasms before I take them away from you. Over the next few weeks, you will become as sensual as a little cat in its first heat. Orgasms will be as important to you as breathing". He adjusts His pants and I hear His zipper slide back up. He gathers my luggage and disappears out of the house with it all. I'm not sure where He takes any of it. I don't care. He returns. I am still kneeling. I smile softly up at Him. Nothing before has ever felt so right. I am Home. Transfer to Jacksonville Dear readers--If you seek DDD tits, 8 1/3 inch dickeys, anal or other cruelty to women you won't find it here. Sorry. Meanwhile I apologize in advance for various errors which may be present--I have worked too long on this story already at the pay of $00.00 per hour so if such things bother you, you might be happier elsewhere. The Transfer I, Donna, am the daughter of a pair of loving parents and the sister of a loving older brother. I grew up without having received any noticeable emotional scars having survived my high school experience with my hymen intact. This in spite of several crushes including one on my older brother. As I graduated High School I had a decent GPA, reasonably good looks, a body which did not embarrass me and a few good friends. I was about 135 pounds. My tits, a measurement which seems to be important to most readers I would call B+ and were quite firm, the plus being the result of muscle and not fat. As I graduated college I again had managed decent grades, decent looks and body, a good degree but without my intact hymen. By that time I had lost the rest of my baby fat and had good eating and exercise habits so had slimmed to about 120. I landed a job with a major American auto maker. Several years later at the age of thirty I was promoted and transferred to Jacksonville Florida. It was a great situation for me. I had been married briefly, I had undergone several brief but intense affairs and was at that point thinking seriously about 'settling down'. My brother Ned was a Navy pilot who thankfully was not a fighter jock doing night carrier landings but flew aerial re-fuelers. He was stationed at NAS Jacksonville. That promised to be a very nice situation, one reason being that I had long had a sexual crush on him. With his help I quickly found a nice home along the Saint Johns River which offered among other things prompt settlement. It also had a dock which would accommodate his 30 foot Cabin Cruiser. This he said would save him a $150 per month docking fee at the marina. Meanwhile we often visited the Officer's Club for dinner or later in the evening for drinks and occasional dancing. At various times I was introduced to his fellow pilots and their wives or dates. I noticed that when introducing me he never mentioned that I was his sister. Later I challenged him on this. "Ever since Pat (A long time girlfriend) and I broke up everyone has been driving me nuts trying to fix me up. Maybe if they think I have found a new girl they'll leave me alone." As I considered this I wondered just how far was this masquerade to go? Some of the situations that a dating couple might run into could end up in intimate situations. What then? As I considered 'what then?' I felt myself tingle 'down there' a bit. It was not at all an unpleasant feeling. Late one night after another evening at the club, we were sitting side by side at my kitchen table when I brought the subject up again. Taking the bull by the horns I asked. "So you want me to pretend to be your new girlfriend? How far does this masquerade go? Am I not to accept other dates?" "Donna, I guess that's up to you. If it starts to get uncomfortable then we'll tell the truth." "How about if the party gets rough some night and everyone starts disappearing into bedrooms?" "See previous answer." He replied. "So if we end up sleeping together it's OK with you?" "If we sleep together, why worry. If we decide to stay awake together then that will be a different story." "Do you want to? Stay awake together? That is." I asked, still surprised at my boldness. As I waited for his reply I was suddenly shy and red faced at my question. But I was also on pins and needles as I wondered what my brother would say. "Love to." Ned finally replied. "It's been a long standing desire." "Oh." I replied. "I wish I had known." "And if you had?" I couldn't really answer my brother's question. Although it had long been a great masturbation fantasy I had never given any serious thought to the idea that it could really happen. "Hard to tell. I never gave any serious thought of you actually wanting, as you guys might say, a piece of me. Have you?" "Serious thought? No, not really. There was a period of several years where I did develop a fantasy of us getting together something like this but twenty more years down the road. We being at that point alone in the world and there no family left to condemn us if we did actually get together. I guess maybe, unconsciously when I heard from you saying that you were moving down here that the fantasy did return. Maybe that's why the pretense." I couldn't seem to come up with the words that would adequately express my feelings. Finally I did find three words to express my current feelings. They were. "Kiss me please." Ned did just that. First it was a gentle touching of lips to lips. Then my tongue with a mind of it's own that was a step or two ahead of mine reached out to brush his lips. "I'm kissing my brother, I'm kissing my own brother, and with my tongue." Those words flashed silently, over and over, through my brain. Meanwhile the kiss was stirring my juices, if you know what I mean. In the first place I had not had sex with a person of either sex in a couple of months. In the second place all my previous fantasies, masturbation and otherwise were suddenly whipping through my brain. I was suddenly as horny as I had ever been, maybe more so. I was ready to scream out and shout. "I wanna get laid." I didn't of course but I did reach and grope this man now sitting beside me. So what if he was my brother, I wanted to make wild sexual love, the fact that it was my brother, the long standing hero of many masturbatory fantasies only make it better. "Come with me." I said, continuing my bold streak. I took Ned by the hand and pulled him toward my bedroom. He stopped me by the kitchen door and worked my blouse and bra off. I was now naked above the waist. I returned the favor then continued toward the bedroom just a few steps away. We stopped my mutual but unspoken agreement. I turned my back so the Ned could unbutton and unzip my skirt. That done he hooked his fingers over the waistband and slid it along with my panties to the floor. I was now wearing my high heels and two necklaces and nothing else. "I love your body. No wonder I was having trouble keeping my penis under control while we danced." "Well. I kept noticing your little, pardon, not so little, problem. Seems like you couldn't decide exactly what to do with it. One minute you were drawing away, the next you were pushing it into my crotch getting me all horny." By then I was unbuckling his belt and downing his zipper trying to get him into the same naked state as I was. By the time we got to my bed we were both naked. Me being a neat-nick took the time to pull down the blanket and upper sheet before we fell upon the bed. Seizing the opportunity to realize one of my favorite fantasy visualizations I urged Ned onto his back and kneeled across his lower body. His penis stood straight and hard as I took it in my hand, urging it toward my wet, slippery hole. Once I felt it's head in the proper place I lowered myself slowly enjoying the feel of it sliding all the way into me. "How about this? It's on of my favorite things to do. OK?" I asked. Ned nodded and thrust his hips upward burying himself even deeper inside of me. I loved it. I bent forward to kiss him and as I spread my legs to do that felt even better. We kissed and moved our bodies around trying to attain the best possible sensation without thrusting. The thrusting gene was not to be denied however. In just another moment we were thrusting, up and down, in and out, round and round. We quickly found that perfect combination which excited every nerve inside my pubic area with heat and desire. In another moment I was well on my way to my first ever orgasm with my own brother. I was squeezing his penis so hard that I could sense his excitement through my own nerve endings. His hands were cupped under my breasts serving to both support my upper body during my now near violent trusting and was also was providing additional stimulation's to those nerves which attached my nipples to my pussy. Then it came, without further warning my whole body was a trembling, quaking mass of orgasming flesh. This was by no stretch of imagination my first orgasm. I had been brought to orgasm by fingers and toys and tongues both male and female. I had been fucked by penis's of various sizes and shapes but no orgasm had ever completely overwhelmed me like this one. As we fell together in post coitial exhaustion I could only assume that Ned's orgasm had been somewhere as satisfying as mine. As we clung together mouthing loving words to each other I was sure that it had been. We fell asleep in each other's arms briefly. I was awakened by a gentle slap on my bare behind and the a suggestion whispered which I had dreamed of since first observing my brother returning from his shower with just a towel protecting his vital parts. "How about a joint shower before we continue this adventure?" I have something to do first, join me in about ten minutes. I'll have it warm and ready." Ned laughed then said back. "I'm sure that it will be warm and ready, but try to get the shower warm and ready too." We laughed together and parted after a quick kiss. Ten minutes later after finding that the hot water had failed we had under the cover of darkness begun to skinny dip in my pool. A couple of quick laps we were wrestling in the middle of the pool copping all the feels that we could and having a fantastic time. After another few minutes we were both becoming chilled. Ned took me into his arms wrapping me tight then whispered to me. "There is a sure cure for the chills and you do know what it is, so let's go." Laughing like idiots we ran back to the bedroom and lay on our sides wrapped in each other's arms. We kissed fervently for a few minutes before giving our hands permission to do some exploring. Minutes later our hands and fingers were busy in and around each other's sexual organs. As Ned's penis hardened I was overcome with a desire to show off my oral skill which have produced numerous sincere compliments over the years. When that thought surfaced I pushed back slightly then began kissing my way down my brothers hard well tanned body. Ned sensing my intentions urged my legs with his head his tongue quickly finding my clit. As the sensations from his effort reached my brain I abandoned my plan to begin by teasing instead taking it deep into my mouth and sucking hard as I licked it's underside. My usual careful and deliberate ministrations were replaced my unbridled enthusiasm to feel my brothers cum blast down my throat. As I felt my own orgasm send it's signals through my body I also felt my brother's cock begin to contract and release. I knew that was the first signal of pending eruption. Erupt it did, spurt after spurt of his delicious seed blasted into my mouth, there to be savored and swallowed with joy. At that very moment my own orgasm blasted through me reducing my body as it receded into a quivering but satisfied mass of flesh. Of course it being only Friday we spent the weekend swimming, eating and screwing, trying all the positions we knew a few we had only heard of and a couple we think we invented. That was eight years ago. My brother is due to be discharged soon. He will ostensibly be living aboard his cruiser tied to my dock. However if you do come to visit and the boat is a-rockin, don't come a-knockin. Transference Two years ago I moved to Seattle to begin working as a therapist. After many years of school, I had finally earned my doctorate in psychology, and I was looking forward to beginning my career. My schooling had taken me all over the country, as I had done several internships before I graduated. It was good experience, but the rootlessness of my existence made it tough socially. It was impossible to keep a steady boyfriend, for one thing, as I was always more committed to my career. After graduating, the job in Seattle was nice, as it finally allowed me to stabilize, start working, and put down some roots, so to speak. It was a new beginning that felt long overdue. The facility at which I work employs about two dozen therapists. Most of our patients are outside referrals from local hospitals. My specialty is dealing with individuals who have anxiety, depression, and other mood disorders. I also deal with people who have family issues or need help with stress management. I enjoy working with people on these issues. For the most part, my patients tend to come and go. I would say the average number of sessions for which someone visits me is usually no more than a dozen or so, either on a weekly or biweekly basis. I try to tailor my methods to meet the individual's needs. Usually the patient improves in a month or two. Although I have fond memories of a few of my patients over the years, usually I tend to forget about them after we have concluded our final sessions. But there was one guy whom I'll never forget. His name was John. At thirty-nine, he was about ten years older than me, and he worked at a large financial institution. He was on medical leave for depression and anxiety, and when he arrived he was a bundle of nerves. Really, he was a mess. He was having trouble getting out of bed in the mornings due to his symptoms, and even attending the therapy sessions were somewhat of a chore. I don't always like the clients with whom I work, but it is my job to help everyone, even if a person is a complete degenerate. But I liked John from the moment that I met him. I could tell immediately that he was courteous, intelligent, and thoughtful. It was going to be a pleasure to work with him. During our first session, we discussed what he felt were the core issues causing or contributing to his problems. After reviewing them with him and learning that he liked to write, I decided to tailor a lot of our program around him writing about his feelings and his past. We would then review and discuss what he wrote in our therapy sessions. By the time we met up for our second session, he came in with what looked like a short novel in which he detailed several key moments in his life that were problematical or that induced trauma. I was completely amazed by the depth of his introspection. He was also a damn fine writer. "It looks like a lot of the problems that you are having are due to women," I said, as he reclined on the black leather couch in my office. "Yeah, Dr. Green, women have been a problem for me since I was a teenager," he said. "Well, let's make that a focal point of our sessions then," I stated. John then went on for the whole hour discussing his past relationships. It was clear that he had problems in this area. He had never been able to find a girlfriend in high school, had trouble keeping a girlfriend in college, and as an adult had gone through two ugly divorces. There were numerous liaisons in between. "Why do you think that your relationships have not worked out?" I asked. "I'm not sure," he replied. "I don't think that women understand me. They like my money, but they never take the time to understand what I am about." "Well, what are you about?" "I'm a dreamer, Dr. Green. I live a conventional existence on the outside, with a good job, a good income, and a nice apartment. But on the inside I harbor a longing that most women never care to understand. In my prior relationships, I felt like a flower that had been prohibited from blossoming." Over the next few weeks, we continued to work through the problematical relationships of his past that had caused him to be depressed and anxious. He also continued to write. His prose was absolutely stunning to read. Even when we were not scheduled to have a session, I would spend my spare time reading what he had written, as it was a pleasure to pour over the construction of his sentences. He would often discuss his sex life, describing specific encounters in such detail that I would be a creamy mess by the time that I finished reading. Sometimes he would reflect on his life in poems that would melt my heart. He was an artist at the keyboard, and I found this to be a very attractive quality. We would always discuss what he had written, and often the words coming out of his mouth were so sensual and engaging that it was though the temperature in the room would rise by several degrees. Before too long, I began to look forward to our therapy sessions. I always dressed nice, but I would try to dress even better on the days on which he would be visiting. I would often wear nice stockings and knee-length skirts that fit snugly. I would also wear better perfumes. Being so close to him on a weekly basis was a very emotionally charged experience to which I looked forward. Therapy, in general, is a very intimate experience, but my sessions with John were reaching a whole different plateau. They were like having mental sex down to his soul, and he seemed to feel that as well. I would come out of the hour that we spent together each week exhausted and aroused. Talking to him gave me the same feeling that one gets when one is edging to porn; it is that prolonged rush of the endorphins that take one to the brink, but without the satisfaction of orgasmic release. The dope was in the build up; it was hanging on every sensual word that came out of his mouth. Although I was simply sitting in a chair, listening to him and taking notes, the hormones running through my head felt as though I was making out with him for an hour. I secretly wondered if he felt the same high. A couple of times after his visits, I would have to lock the door to my office and masturbate to regain my sensibilities after being around him. He was that intoxicating. After about eight weeks, I could see that John's mood was improving, which made me feel good. We were making progress. He was getting out more and feeling much less anxious. He was even thinking about returning to work in a month or two, which was good to hear. I asked him if he anticipated a time by which we would be concluding our therapy sessions. "I don't know, Dr. Green," he said. "I'm still not quite 100%." "What do you mean by that?" I asked. "I feel best on the days that I come to see you. The other days? Not so much," he replied. I didn't say a word. I just looked at him as he lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling. I was curious about what he would say next to break the silence that I had induced. "You see, I get excited from being near you," he confessed. "No one has ever really listened to me before, especially a woman. I like to come here just to look at you and hear your voice." "Those are natural feelings," I said. "Do you want to talk about them now?" We still had a few minutes left. "Sure," he replied, before pausing. "I know this is inappropriate to say, but I fantasize about you all of the time. You seem to care about me. I love that. I also love your short red hair. I love your freckles. I love your smile. I love the contours of your hips. I love that you are almost six feet tall and have a sexy, athletic build. I love your long legs and the shape of your ass. Simply put, I think that I'm in love with you." "Erotic transference is not unusual in client-therapist situations," I said. "It is actually quite common, but often it is the result of longing and childhood needs that resurface as one gets older. It is the result of the need to be received, accepted, and satisfied." "No, this is different," he said. "I think that I really do love you." "So what is it that you fantasize about, and how often do you do it?" I asked, feeling nervous about going into that territory. "I masturbate to you daily, Dr. Green," he confessed. "You have no idea. I think about bending you over your desk, grabbing you by your voluptuous hips, and fucking you slowly for an entire hour, making you come repeatedly. I dream about turning you inside out with ecstasy, and I fantasize about what the expression on your face would look like as it happened." As he said this, I could see that his cock was bulging through his tight jeans. He was aching for release right in front of me. He even casually reached down to rub himself a few times discreetly. Although we were in a therapy session, I almost felt as though I was going to need to refer him to his primary care physician afterwards for a case of blue balls. Needless to say, I was shocked by his comments, but it was important to let him discuss them in a safe environment. "Have you thought that maybe it is not me with whom you are in love, but that your feelings are the result of a narcissistic desire to fuse with someone from your past, such as your mother?" I asked. "Perhaps, I don't know," he said. "You are the expert, Dr. Green. But let me tell you this: you ignite my deepest desires. If I could have you, I would make love to you like no other. If you wanted, I would even make you children." Oh my, this guy is over the top, I thought. I looked up at the clock and our hour was up. "It is good to clear the air about this today, John," I said somewhat shakily. "This is a good start, but we'll have to talk about this more next week." As John got up to leave, he turned to me and asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?" "We'll talk more next week, although maybe not about that subject," I said smiling and laughing nervously, as I took him by the arm and led him toward the door. I then did something that I had never done with a patient before: I gave him a little hug before he left. He smelled wonderful. After I closed the door, I leaned back on it and slid down to the ground, letting out a deep sigh. I was so aroused that I was a slippery mess down below. After dealing with John for two months, we had reached a curious stage in our therapy. He was in love with me or, more accurately, was experiencing feelings that mirrored those of love. Chemically, in the brain, it all feels the same. I had hints that this may have been the case in prior weeks. During some of our prior sessions, he would occasionally ask me personal questions, such as where I went to school, where I lived, or what I liked to do in my spare time. Sometimes I would answer him, but most of the time I would refocus our discourse on him, as my responsibility was to fix his problems, not have a chat about me. I was his therapist, not his personal friend. However, I understood where he was coming from. Although he was paying for it, I was giving him the kind of attention and focus that he had never received in his life, and it filled a deep void in him. At best, I was a therapist who was making him well; at worst, I was a mental prostitute. Either way it felt good to him. That I was the object of his desire only amplified the situation. The bigger problem was that I too had developed feelings for him, essentially from day one, although I had kept them hidden from him. Yes, without question I had to come to terms with the fact that I was experiencing erotic countertransference. I had developed strong feelings for John. I was attracted to virtually everything about him: his mind, his looks, his demeanor. If we were not engaged in a doctor-patient relationship, I would have been dating him in a minute. I so wanted to tear his clothes off and make passionate love to him. It was becoming a strain not to go there. John and I were not scheduled to have another session for a week, so I had some time to think about things. Luckily, I work in an office with two dozen shrinks, so if one needs some therapy, there is always plenty of help nearby. It is ironic, but some of the most psychologically fucked up people I know are therapists. It is not uncommon for therapists to be receiving therapy from other therapists. We tend to help one another out all of the time, whether it is dealing with depression, marital problems, sexual issues, or whatever. The doctor who worked in the office next to me was my good friend Janice. She too was a psychologist, and I asked her if I could come over to chat after she was finished with her visits. She said that would be fine. "So what is up, girlfriend?" she asked. "Erotic transference and erotic countertransference, that's what," I sighed. Janice shook her head. "Oh, shit." Of course, as a doctor, she knew all about the topic. "So who is it and how long has it been going on?" "It is my patient John. I have been treating him for a couple of months. Today he said that he is in love with me and, quite frankly, I'm hot for him too," I confessed. "You haven't done anything inappropriate yet, have you?" she asked. "No." "Good," said Janice. "I know that you are relatively new in your practice, but be ethical." I took a seat on her couch and proceeded to tell her the whole story, including how the emotions had been escalating between John and I over the last few weeks. I emptied out the entirety of my emotional reservoir about the matter to her. She was quite sympathetic. "You should really try to work through this with him," she said. "There are many good reasons for doing so. He might feel betrayed and rejected if you stop treating him, which could make his depression even worse. However, if you absolutely feel that you can't handle him anymore, you can refer him to me. I can deal with him as well as his feelings for you. But there are good reasons for working through this with him. Trust me, this will not be the last time that you encounter this dynamic." I thought about it for a moment, and I appreciated her offer to help. I wanted to do what was best for all parties, and I began to understand that it was my professional responsibility to work with John through our collective issues together. At that time, I decided to keep him under my care. The next week went by slowly, as the only thing about which I could think was seeing John at our next appointment. We were going to continue our discussion about his erotic transference for me, and I was dying to hear about what he was going to say. When the day of our appointment arrived, I decided to wear a nice white blouse with dark slacks that accentuated my hips and ass. I felt that he would like that. When John came in, he looked ruggedly handsome in his black leather jacket and jeans that wrapped tightly around his package. He was very polite, as usual, and we proceeded to discus how he was doing. "I'm okay, Dr. Green" he said. "The anxiety is still prominent, but I'm trying to work through it." "Good," I replied. "But I thought that we would focus on what we left off with last week, which were the feelings that you had developed for me. Did you want to talk about that?" Without saying a word, he reached into his bag and handed me a stack of papers. They were all love poems that he had written for me, some which were highly erotic. I took a minute to read a few of them, and they made my heart melt. He had it bad for me. "As I mentioned last time, it is not unusual for a client to be attracted to his or her therapist," I stated. "And the poems are beautiful, by the way." "That is my soul talking in those poems. I'm in love with you," he blurted. "Do you think that I'm attractive?" I wasn't sure how to respond, but he was being honest with me, so I felt that it was important to be truthful in return. "Yes, John, I do find you attractive." "Would you date a guy like me?" he asked. "John, a person can be attracted to someone but not want to date them," I replied. "I mean, the fantasies that you mentioned last week about me: they were all about sex. Don't you think that objectifies me? Don't you think it is a symptom of something deeper?" "I'm sorry if you felt objectified," he said somewhat remorsefully. "I certainly didn't mean to come off that way." "Don't you realize that your feelings about me are unrealistic?" I asked. "They don't feel unrealistic, Dr. Green," he said flatly. "I don't think that you understand why you have put me on a pedestal; that is, idealized me. Have you thought that it might be because it takes the place of the losses that you have experienced in your life?" He did not answer. I then explained in detail how such feelings were likely a result of events in his childhood, so we began to probe his early life in detail. I learned that he was often misunderstood and ignored by his mother as well as his prior spouses. I tried to explain to him that his feelings for me were likely a response to those factors. I tried to convince him that, by the way that I have treated him in our sessions, in his mind he will be cured if only I reciprocate his affections. He still did not seem to get it, but well, it was likely going to take many more sessions to work though this. Soon our hour was up, and I got up to escort him out the door. As I reached for the doorknob, with my back turned to him, I felt him place his hands on both of my hips, and he gently kissed the nape of my neck. I gasped and nearly jumped out of my skin, yet the feeling was so pleasurable that I couldn't even utter a word. The feeling was electric. I then turned around and, face to face, planted a kiss on his lips. His lips were soft and his breath smelled lovely. We kissed deeply for about a minute, our tongues probing each other's mouths, before I came to my senses and pulled myself away. "We shouldn't have done that," I said. "It wasn't right." He didn't say a word. He just moved his lips toward mine again and resumed kissing me, to which I instinctively responded by kissing him back. I became putty in his hands. He then brought my hand down to his crotch, and he was clearly erect. Feeling his cock through his jeans while I had a mouthful of his tongue was making me highly aroused. I could feel my brain and blood awash with dopamine, which was nature's way of saying that it was almost time to fuck. But I had to pull back from my animalistic cravings and stop. Oh, it was tough, but I had to stop. "You gotta go," I said huffing, feeling randy as hell. "I have another patient coming in thirty minutes, and I have to get ready." He obliged, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving. After he was long gone, I locked the door, went over to my desk, and proceeded to drop my slacks and my dampened panties. Leaning back in my chair, with my legs up on the desk, I jilled off to two quick orgasms while thinking about fucking John in just about every position imaginable. I had not had such strong orgasms in ages. After I cooled down, I felt pangs of guilt. I really should not have kissed him. The next morning, our secretary Nancy called me over to say that there was a gift for me that had been delivered to the front office. It was a beautiful vase holding a dozen roses. There was an envelope attached to it with my name on it. Since I did not have a boyfriend, it was an odd gift to receive. I opened the card attached to the vase and it was from John. It was a brief note that simply said, "With love forever, John," and included his phone number. Attached to the card was a condom. For a guy who recently admitted that he fantasized about impregnating me, attaching a condom was odd, but it was all about the message. I was not surprised. I unattached the condom from the card and beckoned to Nancy.