The Psychologist
written by:
Joshua

I've been a psychologist now for almost twenty-five years. Because I live in a large, southwestern city with a population of more than three million people, I've never had a shortage of clients. I don't really specialize in one area of psychoses or neuroses as other psychologists will. No, instead, clients with a wide variety of issues walk through my door and into my office. I've handled cases where clients suffer from a fear of animals or insects, a fear of heights or fire, and any number of other issues which affect their daily lives. Usually, the client and I are successful at solving their issues, sometimes after just a short period of counseling sessions, sometimes after years. Each client is different and that is how I approach the interesting array of people who come to me for help.

Before I go any further, let me describe myself. My name is Amanda, and I'm a fifty-five year old woman, married with three grown children and two grandchildren. I'm a bit tall, standing almost six feet tall. While I'm no model, I believe I look damn good for my age. Sure, I could stand to lose a few pounds, but at my age, who doesn't? I have long, auburn-colored hair that hangs to the middle of my back, brown eyes, and I always dress professionally when I'm in the office. To maintain a professional appearance, I often wear my hair in a tight bun atop the back of my head. I often wear well-tailored pants suits, sensible heels, and if the weather is cool, a thin sweater. Because my vision has deteriorated over the years, I've become near-sighted and so, wear glasses whenever I have clients sitting across the room from me. Often, while listening to my clients, my silver-framed, retro style glasses hang from my neck by a silver chain. My husband sometimes makes comments about my glasses being behind the times and out of style, but I believe the silver frames that resemble the pointed-corners, gaudy style of the late 1950s fits my personality.

And because I'm a professional counselor, I also must conduct my professional career by a code of ethics that are meant to be followed to the letter. I'm expected to treat each client as an individual with respect and concern and to do my best to get to the root of their issues as professionally and as quickly as possible. I'm expected to keep a distance, of sorts between my clients and myself that prevents any level of emotional or physical contact in order to remain neutral about them and to never treat one client better than another. And most importantly, I'm not allowed to have personal relationships with my clients, unless they are no longer under my care.

But I'm also writing a book about psychological therapies, particularly using deep states of psychological relaxation. I have a theory that we all have inner personalities inside us that may never come to the surface. These personalities range from dreams of being a professional athlete to a famous singer or actor, or anywhere in between. My theory, which I intend to prove, is that I can convince a client to go through daily life in the role of that one personality he or she finds fits them best, then as long as they neither break the law nor injure themselves of anyone else, then they should live that way and lead a happier life. Of course, there would be times when the client would need to step back to reality and readjust to their normal lives, but as a psychologist, I believe temporary psychological vacations from our normal selves is healthy to the mind and the body. And so, while my book centers on only the theory of the psychological use of altered states of consciousness, I have yet to actually use the technique on a client. I know that eventually, for my book to be credible and important to my colleagues, I need to find that one client who is willing to allow me to take them to a deep psychological place where they keep inner feelings, secrets, and desires hidden from everyone they knew. So far, I've had difficulty in determining which of my clients I would ask to be my psychological guinea pig. That is, until I went over each of my files closely. There in the middle of my search for that one person who could prove my theory, I found Ted.

Ted is a twenty-three year old man who suffers from severe confidence issues. Oh, he's very smart, to be sure: He teaches aeronautical engineering at a local college. Ted is tall, at least six feet, two inches in height, has wavy brown hair, a great physique, and the brownest eyes I've ever set my own eyes on. He was well-traveled, and could speak without fear before large crowds, but whenever Ted finds himself near a woman he finds attractive, he is unable to finish a conversation with her, or even ask her out on a date. In the privacy of my office, Ted explained how he often is so frustrated over his inability to connect with a woman that most of his nights end with him alone in his bed with his hand around his cock, jacking himself off while he fantasizes about fucking the most recent woman whom he'd been unable to establish a relationship with. So as I left my office that day, I decided Ted was the perfect candidate to test my theory about leading a happier life by using various psychological procedures to bring out hidden personalities.

There are two things I need to tell you before I go any further, however. The first is that as a psychologist, I'm not supposed to allow myself to reach the point where I allow how attractive a client is to affect my professional judgment. So, to think of Ted in a manner that caused me to become sexually stimulated may, in a sense, have caused me to violate some measure of professional ethics. But too often of late, I've found myself after a session with Ted running the image of him with his cock in his hand to cruise through my mind like a wildfire. Ethically, it was wrong of me to think of my clients in a manner that stimulated me sexually. The second fact is that my husband and I have not had sex in at least two years. I guess we just grew old together, and now, familiarity has crept in and he no longer desires me. So, like Ted, I too use masturbation techniques to quench my still very active, still very hot, sexual desires. My usual method is to lie under the spigot in the bathtub and allow warm water to pound my excited clit while I slide two, three, or even more fingers into my cunt until I reach orgasm. When I stop to think about where I've come in terms of my relationship with Ted, I've come to realize that despite being a professional therapist, It's still my job to find what it is that causes Ted to shy away from women. It's my professional obligation to do everything in my power to help Ted solve his problems and to free him from the psychological chains that are holding him back in life. So, with that in mind, I proceeded on to conducting what would be the most important interview of my professional career. Ted's next appointment was scheduled for the next day, and I arrived home eager for the day to end and the next day to begin.

The next morning, the day of Ted's appointment, I made sure to dress for the upcoming test. Rather than the normal pants suit, I selected a neutral grey jacket and skirt. While most of my skirts extend downward to my knees, I'd specifically purchased this garment because the hem ended three inches above my knees. I liked the way it exposed more of my shapely, well-toned legs than my other skirts. I knew that by wearing a shorter skirt, Ted would have an opportunity to see my legs which were normally covered by pants during our sessions. I decided not to wear a blouse under the low-plunging jacket, instead opting to wear a low cut, white lace, French bra with pushup cups. Wearing this special garment made me feel sexy because of the way the cups pushed my 42d tits upward and creating the effect of my already extensive cleavage being exaggerated and causing my tits to appear larger than they already were. I knew that wearing this bra would allow the tops of my tits to be visible to Ted, and cause his eyes to linger at my chest. From my lingerie drawer, I chose white satin panties that caressed my pussy and always seemed to stimulate my clit. And finally, two very sheer, nude-colored stockings with lace tops covered each leg. To complete the ensemble, I slipped my feet into closed-toe, alligator leather, four-inch stiletto heels, secured to my feet by a thin strap that ran across the back of my ankle. Leaving the jacket on the bed momentarily, I stood before the full-length mirror and admired the older woman staring back at me. What I had decided to do may have been right or wrong, but the woman I saw in the mirror was sexy and confident. I pivoted on the stiletto heels first to the right, then to the left, making sure every garment was just right. When I was sure I'd completed dressing, I slipped into the jacket, splashed several drops of my favorite cologne onto my throbbing skin, and drove to my office. I knew I wouldn't be able to see Ted until the close of the day. Upon my arrival at the office, I asked Josephine, my friend and secretary of twenty years, to phone him and see if he would agree to an extended session that afternoon. I needed extra time to see if my theory would work. Later that morning, while Josephine and I shared a cup of coffee between clients, she informed me that Ted had called and agreed to the extra-long session. That afternoon, at exactly four o'clock, I told Josephine to go home for the day, and that I'd close the office once my session with Ted had come to an end. The sudden quiet enveloping the office was overwhelming, but it also served to bolster my courage as I made the final preparations for Ted's arrival. I slipped into the small bathroom located just off my office and reapplied the lipstick I‘d been wearing all day. A quick glance in the mirror, and I was ready to conduct the most important test of my professional career. I returned to my office and slid the contemporary-styled, platinum metal and leather chair I usually sit in during counseling sessions into a corner. I had no plans to sit across the room from Ted, no, not on this special afternoon. I heard the outside office door open at precisely four-thirty and knew the time had come. Ted, finally, had arrived. Just before the door opened and Ted entered the room, I perched my ass upon the corner of my desk, my left leg crossed over the right, the tips of my four inch stiletto heel swinging slowly but seductively below my knees.

I returned Ted's smile as he entered the small room where I conduct my sessions, and was amused to see him do a double-take when he noticed that I was not dressed in the normal fashion. Everything I would do for the next several hours had already been thought out, well-planned, and would be performed in a very specific sequence. It was if I'd written a play and was acting out each scene one by one. Ted stopped suddenly on his way to the small sofa where my clients sat during counseling sessions: I knew the absence of my chair was the first change he saw, but he also seemed unable to take his eyes from my legs as well. That was probably because I'd made sure to hike the hem of my skirt upward a few inches just before Ted entered the room. I wasn't sure, but I hoped Ted would be able to see at least the edge of the lace stocking tops covering my legs. "Hello, Ted," I said, realizing for the first time just how husky my voice now seemed. I extended my left arm and pointed to the sofa and said, "Go ahead, take your seat." Ted's eyes never left my legs as he made his way to the small loveseat, and when he sat, he seemed unable to avert his eyes. Good, I said to myself: so far, everything was working out well. Still sitting on the corner of my desk, I exchanged small talk with Ted for the next few moments. From time to time I shifted my ass on the desk which caused my skirt to ride higher and higher with each movement. When Ted turned his head at some sound entering the room from the outside window, I quickly glanced downward and saw that the lace stocking tops were indeed exposed, at least by two inches or more. So, I thought to myself: Ted has seen at least that part of me. When I had Ted's attention again, I glanced down at the small notebook I kept client's notes in and returned my attention to the twenty-three year old man now staring wide eyed at my almost completely exposed legs. The time had come to begin the session.

"Ted, if you recall, I gave you an assignment the last time we met," I said. "Can you tell me how that went?" Ted immediately began to fidget in the love seat, and I knew he was feeling a certain level of anxiety at that moment. The assignment I'd given Ted was to accompany his best male friend to a bar or tavern and to do his best to strike up a conversation with a woman he found attractive. Ted was to arrive at this session ready to describe his evening. I could tell by his nervous movements that Ted most likely had been unsuccessful at accomplishing his assigned tasks. He stared at the plush carpet covering the floor before finally lifting his chin to answer my question.

"It went horribly, Amanda," Ted began. While I sat on the corner of the desk, I saw Ted's face immediately turn red with anger. He'd displayed this emotion before, but I knew Ted well enough now to know that his anger came from frustration, and his inability to attract a woman. "The whole evening was one big damn mistake," Ted said before finally slouching back against the sofa cushions. Although he was obviously angry, I also noticed that Ted's eyes returned to the lace stocking tops that were now almost completely exposed at the tops of my legs. It was the moment I was waiting for: as soon as I saw Ted's eyes linger on my legs, I crossed the right leg over the left, the soft rustling sound of silk against silk the only sound in the room. I knew I had Ted's attention, and it was time for me to do two things. First, I was still Ted's therapist, a fact that I quickly reminded myself of. Secondly, I also knew the time had arrived to put into play the next step of my test to determine if my new plan was the answer for young Ted.

The next step involved me sliding my broad ass forward and off the desk where I sat. I knew that if I performed the move slowly enough, the hem of my dress might ride upward an inch or so to reveal more of the stocking top. Just as I predicted, because the desk was higher than my dangling feet, when I extended my legs to reach the floor, the hem of my skirt did, indeed, ride upward and the stocking tops became completely exposed and in full view of Ted's roving eyes. He didn't say a word as my feet touched the floor and the tips of my stiletto heels disappeared into the plush carpet. And he certainly didn't avert his eyes when I used both hands to pull the skirt downward to cover the stocking tops, my legs now spread shoulder-width apart as the skirt moved downward and covered the top portion of my legs. I stood silently, but every nerve in my body was shaking at this point from either anxious anxiety, or elation at having proceeded so well so far. I pretended to scribble a few notes in my notebook before chatting with Ted about why he felt the evening had been such a disaster. Ted responded by stating that he'd found a woman sitting by herself at the bar and after a few moments of conversation, had felt himself relaxing. But just as suddenly as he began to feel that a woman might find him attractive, Dan, the same buddy he'd gone to the bar with suddenly swooped in and convinced the young woman to dance with him and before Ted could say much, she was gone and did not return for the remainder of the evening. "She was beautiful, Amanda, and for a few moments there, I felt normal again." Ted's voice rose a few octaves as he spoke.

I asked Ted what it was that caused him to feel such happiness over being that close to a woman. Ted described how it had actually been quite easy to approach her and how amazed he was that she had responded so quickly to his presence. But when Ted described the actions of his friend, he became bitter and tense, and I could easily see that he needed something to cause him to relax. And I knew just what he needed. "Ted, did you feel comfortable, at ease, sitting that close to a woman you didn't know before you arrived at the bar?" I asked. Ted shook his head to indicate that he had felt quite comfortable while he chatted briefly with the woman but once she was gone, the same familiar frustrations returned and he again doubted his ability to find a woman. And that was not only what I predicted Ted would say, but was exactly the moment I had been waiting for. In three strides, I made my way across the short space between my desk and the sofa where Ted sat and lowered my body down onto the cushions, my right leg now just mere inches from Ted's left thigh. The motion of sitting caused the hem of my skirt to rise again, but not as far as when I was sitting on the desk. But that didn't prevent Ted from staring at my legs again, and after one long stare, he turned his eyes to mine. I realized that sitting here on the small sofa with Ted had placed me closer to him than I'd ever been before. Because of that fact, I suddenly realized just how brown Ted's eyes really were. But I also knew I had to keep the pace of the steps I had planned, and it was time to move on.

"Tell me something, Ted," I said. "How do you feel with me sitting this close to you? Am I intimidating to you? Does it bother you that I'm sitting this close?" Ted shook his head from side to side to indicate that he felt comfortable with me sitting so close to him. Thinking quickly now, I slid my body to the right and covered the short distance that had stretched between Ted's body and mine. Now, my right, silk-stocking clad leg pressed against Ted's left leg so tightly that I could feel the young man's body heat through his trousers and my stocking. Because the love seat was so short, there was nowhere for Ted to escape to. I placed my right hand gently on his left thigh and in a soft voice, said, "Ted, I've been thinking about introducing a new psychological technique, something I believe may help you reach self-confidence sooner than expected." Ted waited patiently and stared at me, although his eyes dropped to look at my hand now resting comfortably on his muscular thigh. When he nodded for me to continue, I said, "I've been thinking about using a new technique, Ted." Ted's eyebrows arched high and wide above his face, but he seemed eager to hear more. I patiently explained that using a procedure where I placed him in a deep, relaxing trance in a psychological or psychiatric setting was safe and that no one planned to make him crow like a chicken or to act in ways that were out of the norm for him. I completed my comments by informing Ted that he would have a "safe word" that he could use anytime and the therapy session would end. Suddenly, Ted's eyes were beaming and a wide, brilliant grin stretched across his face. Ted was eager to begin, and so was I. What Ted didn't seem to realize was the entire time I'd been describing the use of trance mediation, my right hand had not lifted from his left thigh. Or, perhaps he had realized that my hand still rested on his leg but felt comfortable enough to allow me to leave it there.

Just before we began, I asked Ted to describe the young woman he'd felt attracted to at the bar. He described a young woman with long brown hair, blue eyes, and a figure that he said, "could stop traffic." When I asked what he meant by that comment, Ted hesitated before I reminded him that everything he said in my office remained confidential between only himself and I. To reassure Ted, I squeezed his left thigh gently with my hand. For the next several moments, Ted described how he'd been attracted to the woman named Robyn because she was, indeed, beautiful, but, with his face becoming increasingly red from embarrassment, he couldn't avert his eyes from the massive set of tits she possessed and the long line of cleavage she displayed by the thin, transparent tank top she'd worn to the bar. "I'm sorry, Amanda," Ted said as he lowered his eyes away from me, "But I couldn't stop staring at her breasts. I'm only human." I smiled warmly at Ted and once again squeezed his leg to reassure him that we were making excellent progress so far. I suggested we begin the session immediately. Using a series of suggestions to Ted spoken in a soft voice, I was able to suspend him into a deep state of relaxation after only five short moments. We'd pre-established that Ted's "safe word" would be the word "stone," and that he could use it at any time to come out from under the effects of the trance. I noticed that Ted's head didn't droop downward as many clients will do when in a deep trance. Instead, Ted's head remained flat and level and his eyes were wide open. We were ready to begin. Slowly, and by using a series of words that caused Ted to sink deeper into each level of deep trance, after several moments, I was certain that I'd reached an inner level of Ted's psyche that few people, if any, had ever seen before. I asked Ted a few questions about his most secret thoughts and when he answered, I was certain the technique I'd chosen was the right move.

It was at this point that I made a deliberate decision to take Ted, deep in his deep, relaxed state, to an even deeper, more hidden place where my actions and words would cause Ted's most suppressed thoughts and desires to surface. I believed that if I was successful in bringing out those thoughts and hearing them spoken, then I'd be better prepared to treat this unique young man, and cause him to feel less hesitant around women. I slid my hand higher on Ted's thigh, the motion causing him to turn his head sharply in my direction. "Ted, can you see me?" I asked. Ted nodded his head up and down. I took the next few moments to guide Ted through a series of extended relaxation techniques until I felt confident he had passed the initial level of the therapy and was now in that dark, recessed place inside his mind where his most secret thoughts lived. While I guided him, Ted's head returned to facing toward my desk and I could physically feel him relaxing and sinking deeper into the trance. My hand remained on his thigh, and it was then that I noticed just how firm his leg muscles truly were. As I said, it was evident this twenty-three year old man kept himself in excellent physical shape.

"Now, Ted, I want you to look at me again," I said. Ted's eyes now bore into mine, his brown eyes intense with concentration, focus, and something else I wasn't quite sure of. Before I went any further with Ted, however, I needed to discover what it was Ted's brain was telling him. "Ted, who am I? What's my name?" Ted hesitated before answering, as if the question had come from some place far off, from a deeper cavern of his consciousness. But just as suddenly, Ted's face turned serious, as if I'd insulted him.

"You're Robyn, aren't you?" He said, his voice rising a few octaves and tinged with anger. "I mean, that's what you said your name is." Suddenly, a new Ted seemed to have entered the room, and I suddenly realized that this Ted was far different from the meek and frustrated Ted who had been a client of mine for more than a year. I liked this new Ted: I liked him a great deal. Ted stared at me for several long quiet seconds before he suddenly thrust his face so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath. I had no idea the effect his next words would have on me, both as a psychologist, but more so as a woman.

"First, let's establish the fact that I'm in charge here," he said, his voice suddenly deeper in tone than before. I was temporarily confused by Ted's demand, but before I could question him about his comment, he suddenly whispered in a determined voice, "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to push my cock as deeply as possible into your cunt and fuck you against a wall, in the back seat of my car, on my kitchen table," he continued, his eyes now wide with sexual desire, his breathing suddenly becoming more shallow. "I'm going to suck your tits, and finger your pussy. And you're going to suck my cock." The words erupted from Ted's mouth in a steady stream that left nothing to the imagination concerning Ted's intentions with the young woman. While I found myself becoming excited from Ted's language, I knew I still had to proceed slowly. I removed my hand from Ted's thigh and placed it on my right leg, Ted's eyes following every move I made. Now that Ted saw me as Robyn, I knew I needed to play the part of the woman he'd been so sexually attracted to.

"Oh, baby," I cooed in my best come-hither voice, hoping Ted's subconscious was fooled enough that he'd see me as an attractive, twenty-something woman whom he obviously wanted to have sex with. Whether he saw it or not, Ted's eyes remained focused on my hand lying now upon the lace stocking top for several long seconds. The silence in the room was overwhelming, except for the incessant pounding in my chest. Ted slowly raised his left hand and lowered it onto my thigh. Slowly, his hand, fingers wide, slid up my leg until his fingers made contact with my hand. Ted grasped my hand and removed it from the lace stocking top, then returned his hand, open-palmed upon the top of my thigh. My heart was pounding now, first, because I knew that I'd taken Ted to a psychological state which existed only in the deepest caverns of his consciousness. And secondly, my heart was pounding wildly because the sensation of Ted's hand upon my thigh began to send sexual shivers across my leg, and into my pussy. I knew then that I too had entered a place that was dangerous for me as a licensed psychologist, but was stimulating to me as a woman. "What do you want to do now, baby?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, my breathing shallow like Ted's. "Tell me or show me."

Ted's fingers slid slowly under the hem of my skirt, his broad hand lifting the fabric until both stocking tops were in full view. Upward his hand continued, the fabric becoming bunched now at the top of that bare-skinned area just above the stocking tops. Ted had leaned forward somewhat and I inhaled the scent of his cologne for the first time. Finally, the skirt was completely pushed upward, the satin panties now in complete view. Although I was enjoying seeing Ted act in a way where he displayed no fears and certainly no shyness, a small quiet voice in the back of my head cautioned me to stop Ted, to remove his hand and to remove myself from the small love seat. But a louder voice said "hell no" in my brain, and I knew that as a psychologist, I sometimes had to enter dangerous territory with my patients. Ted's eyes now focused on the white silk fabric covering my cunt, and he hesitated. "Tell me what you want me to do, lover," I whispered into his ear. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"I want to see your pussy, Robyn," he said, his fingers already inside the waistband of the silk panties. Three of Ted's fingers slipped inside the panties and I felt as if my skin was on fire. "Lift your ass, bitch," Ted said, his deepest desires now driving him, not caring about what was right or wrong, but focused, instead, on satisfying the obvious and blatant sexual needs that dominated his inner being at that time. Ted began to tug gently on the panties, and despite the chorus of voices competing in my head, I lifted my ass several inches above the sofa and allowed Ted to slide the panties away from my cunt and down my stocking-clad legs, until my bent knees stopped his progress at removing my panties completely from my body. I felt the cool rush of air enter my pussy area and caress my cunt. Looking down quickly, I realized that for the first time in the thirty years I'd been married to my husband, another man now saw my pussy. I had no doubt that the amount of pussy juices coming from my cunt amounted to a small flood.

Ted suddenly stopped tugging on the panties and returned his eyes to me. In an instant, his lips were pressed to mine, his tongue searching, probing, exploring. I returned the kiss, partially because I knew Ted saw me as Robyn, not as Amanda the psychologist, and partially because the sensual tremors flowing across every part of my body at that instant begged me to return the kiss. I lifted my arms and wrapped them loosely around Ted's broad shoulders, and pulled him closer to me. While our tongues wrestled, I felt the front of my jacket opening as Ted's skillful fingers opened one button after another until he spread the jacket lapels apart and my 42d tits lay half-exposed as they remained supported by the French lace, pushup bra. Ted gently placed his lips now upon my cleavage, and using his tongue, he traced a wet path down the break in my tits, over the front-closing clasp, and down my belly until he reached the top of my bunched-up skirt.

But Ted had other intentions than simply kissing my skin. After he completed the task of tongue-bathing my upper torso, Ted returned his attention to the silk panties still situated around my knees. "Lift your fucking legs, Robyn," Ted demanded, his voice stern. I wasn't frightened by Ted's behavior as much as I was stimulated by it. Clearly, Ted was a man now in charge, a confident man, one who knew what he wanted or needed and wasn't afraid to do whatever was necessary to obtain it. "I said to lift your fucking legs, Robyn," Ted repeated. With his assistance, I lifted my legs, the tips of my high-heeled stiletto pumps flashing by his head, and watched in sexual awe as a man other than my husband tugged on my panties until the right foot slid through the legband and the garment hung like a tattered flag around my left ankle. Ted's strong hands held both of my ankles wide, and when he draped each of my high heeled feet over his shoulder and leaned forward, there was no doubt what Ted's next move would be or what he intended to do. With my legs spread wide, and the tips of the thin stiletto heels digging into his back, Ted leaned forward and placed his mouth directly onto my cunt.

I'm a married woman, and a professional counselor. For both of those reasons, I should have stopped everything that had already happened, and prevented everything that I was now certain would happen in the next several moments. But when Ted's tongue slid between my cunt lips and he began to lick and suck on my pussy, there was just no way I could stop what this young, well-built twenty-three year old man was doing to me. But then, everything Ted was doing was so pleasurable I knew I had crossed a line and I didn't want to stop. "Oh, shit, baby," I cooed as Ted began to eat my cunt in earnest. "Eat my pussy, baby, oh yes eat my pussy!" I began to shimmy my ass up and down, the motion causing my hairy cunt to slide up and down across Ted's hungry mouth. He responded by inserting two fingers into my cunt, and between his fingers and that amazing tongue, I knew it might not be very long before I came on his face. But even then, with my legs spread and draped over this young man's back, even then with his tongue attacking my pussy so intently, a voice reminded me that I was not Amanda, but, rather, Robyn, the woman Ted was imagining he was slamming his tongue into. "Yes, my baby, Robyn likes it when she has her pussy eaten," I said. Faster now, Ted's tongue flicked in and out of my hairy pussy, and between Ted's finger insertions and my ass grinding, I neared orgasm faster than I had in the last ten years. Maybe I reached orgasm so quickly because it had been so long since my husband and I had fucked. Maybe I reached orgasm so quickly because my cunt was starving for attention. Or, maybe I reached orgasm so quickly because everything Ted was doing to me was amazing, and the sensations of his wet, hot tongue on my clit and pussy lips was the best thing I'd experienced in many, many years.

So, when I exploded in orgasm on Ted's face and mouth, I was pleased to see that he was capable of maintaining his oral lock on my cunt despite the wild thrashing about I produced as a result of lifting my naked ass high in the air before slamming it back down again against the sofa cushion. Each time my ass rose, my left high heeled foot rose as well, and I was able to see the silk panties still dangling around my ankle and waving in the still office air like a flag of surrender. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I screamed as the orgasm overtook me and for the first time in several years my cunt exploded because a human tongue was assaulting the delicate lips relentlessly. On and on, Ted drove his tongue into my pussy and I felt wave after wave of sexual joy and pleasure, more than I'd experienced in years. I didn't want the orgasm to stop, didn't want the flood of joy washing over me to stop. But eventually, Ted stepped back from my now soaking wet cunt and stared down at me, a smile on his face. It was obvious he was pleased with his work, but I had a suspicion this remarkable twenty-three year old man was not quite finished with me. As he took a step back from me, my legs fell to Ted's side, and it was then he seemed to notice the sensation of pure silk caressing his skin as my legs rubbed against his arms.

"So, what did you think of that, Robyn?" Ted asked, still deep in the altered psychological state I'd placed him in earlier. His eyes seemed wider now, more intense, and his voice seemed to come from someone else. Although my legs were still quivering from the orgasm and my heart was still racing, I was still a psychologist who was in the middle of a treatment session with a client. Sure, it was an unorthodox treatment session, but a session nonetheless. Offering my hand to Ted, I allowed him to assist me in sitting up, and when I was finally erect, less than two inches separated my face from Ted's. He dropped his chin and focused his eyes on my open jacket, the sight of two, huge titties still encased in the French lace bra now demanding his full attention. "Well, what the fuck do we have here, Robyn?" Ted sked as he placed both of his large hands fully over my titties and began to squeeze each tit. I didn't need to look down to realize that my nipples were hard: I could feel the small, thimble-sized button pressing against the delicate fabric of the bra. I guess Ted felt the nipples under his palm because he wasted no time in opening the clasp that held the two cups in place.

This was an afternoon of firsts for me. For the first time in my career, I'd used my skills and knowledge to place a client in a situation that could have proven dangerous for me and for him as well. For the first time since I'd been married, another man had made contact with my pussy. And now, for the first time, another man was staring at my bare tits. I had the feeling that there were other firsts for me this afternoon as well, and I couldn't wait to find out what other "firsts" awaited my client, myself, or both of us. I took the opportunity to look down now, and watched as Ted massaged my huge, bare titties, and I found that the more he rubbed my nipples, the less I thought about the therapy. I discovered I enjoyed Ted's new personality and although I arched my back and sank into the sensual tremors traveling across my body as a result of Ted stroking my tits, that same small, almost silent voice came back to me and reminded me that this was still a therapy session, and that I owed it to Ted to find a way to show him that he could, indeed, be confident around women, even when he wasn't in an altered state of psychological awareness.

Ted lowered his head and placed his wet mouth against my left nipple. More tremors flashed across my chest and throughout my body, and although I arched my back enough to remove my jacket and bra, Ted's mouth and tongue never left the nipple he sucked so eagerly on. It dawned on me then that except for the stockings, heels, and the skirt bunched around my waist, I had reached another first: I was now more naked with a man other than my husband than I'd been since we married. So, for that reason, I gently pushed Ted's mouth away from my tits, leaned forward and in one smooth motion, slid my skirt down my long, stocking-covered legs until the skirt and the panties that had previously hanged from my left ankle fell to the floor in a heap. Just as quickly, I raised my hands behind my head, and with Ted watching in rapt attention, released the clasp that until now had held my auburn-colored hair in a tight bun at the back of my head. I sat on the edge of the love seat, wearing nothing more than the stockings and heels, every nerve in my body on fire, every sense a human is capable of experiencing on high alert. Two 42d tits hung from my chest and the nipples, seemingly with a mind of their own, ached to be sucked again, yearned to be stimulated, especially by the twenty-three year old man who I'd placed into a deep psychological state. Ted stared at me, the expression in his face altering from one expression to another. I asked myself if Ted's consciousness was questioning who I was: did he recognize me as his analyst, or was he still seeing Robyn, the woman whose pussy he'd just eaten.

But in reality, I too had reached a point where my own consciousness had taken control of me. I suddenly didn't care if Ted saw me or if he saw Robyn, the much younger woman he so desperately wanted to fuck. All I wanted at that point was for Ted to continue to touch me, to stimulate me, and most of all, to fuck me. The orgasm Ted had caused to wrack my body was the first I'd experienced from physical contact with a man in more than two years, and now that I so vividly recalled how a series of endless sexual tremors felt as they cruised across my body, I wanted more. And so, more or less now abandoning the therapy I'd been so intent to use on Ted, I leaned forward, placed my hands on his trousers and slowly opened his belt. Ted removed his shirt while I lowered the tab on his trouser's zipper. When the zipper was finally fully opened, I extended my hand inside his trousers and found his cock, hard, rigid, erect, and begging to be freed. Ted moaned softly as my hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock, and although the swollen tube inside my hand was still concealed by his trousers, I could tell that when I finally pulled Ted's cock into view, it would be long, and I just knew I would want every inch of what I needed at that moment. "Oh, Robyn, baby," Ted moaned as my hand jacked his cock inside his trousers. "Baby, you have the best hands." Intrigued now by the sensation of another man's cock in my hand - another first for me - I continued to pump Ted's growing shaft inside his pants until he finally pushed downward on the waistband of his trousers and his lower torso came into view. I hadn't released the grip I had on Ted's cock, and I had continued to stare into his eyes in the unlikely, but possible, event that Ted might come out of the trance he was in and recognize me. But even if he did, I didn't care. The only thing I cared about at that point was getting the huge, hard cock in my hand into my cunt as soon as possible.

Ted, it seems, had exactly the same idea. He placed both of his hands on my bare shoulders and pushed me back onto the love seat, my hand leaving his cock as I fell backward. Next, he grasped my ankles, raised my high-heeled feet to shoulder level, and moved forward. In wide-eyed wonder, I watched as a foreign cock moved slowly forward between my outstretched legs, the tip like a heat-seeking missile homing in on its target. "I'm going to fuck you, Robyn, and I'm going to fuck you now," Ted said, his voice deeper now, tinged with lust, tinged with sexual desire. He looked at me, and when I nodded my head, my auburn hair half-covering my face, I knew Ted was seeing Robyn, the twenty-something young woman at the bar, and not a fifty-five year old woman who wanted his cock as much as he wanted my pussy. Ted wrapped both hands around his cock, arched his back, and it was then I felt the tip of his cock press against my cunt.

And as had been happening all day, another first occurred. For the first time since I'd been married, another cock entered my pussy, the long shaft of Ted's cock sliding easily inward, inch by wonderful inch. But there was more: yes, there was another first that occurred the moment Ted's wonderful cock entered my body. It was the first time I'd allowed a client to touch me the way Ted was there in the quiet of my office. But as I soon learned, that quiet was soon broken, and very much so. Ted began a series of forward thrusts that caused his cock to slide between my cunt lips so forcefully that the motion drove me backward and deeper into the love seat's cushions. My auburn hair flayed about my head so wildly that I was temporarily blinded by the jerking motion of Ted's forward cock thrusts. And as every inch of his twenty-three year old dick slammed into me, I began to wail loudly, to scream, to let Ted know that what he was doing to me was absolutely wonderful.

"Oh, goddamn, baby, goddamn," I moaned as I arched my back to provide Ted with more room to insert his lovely cock into my fifty-five year old cunt. "Give me more, honey," I moaned, "please give me more." On and on and on, Ted slammed his cock so far into my hungry pussy that his ball sack slapped against my naked ass with each forward thrust. He leaned forward over me and placed his wet mouth on the right nipple and began to apply light bites to the thimble-sized protrusion. When he'd determined that he'd sucked and bitten the nipple to his satisfaction, Ted turned his attention to the left nipple, and repeated the process. On and on he drove that pipeline-like cock into my cunt, driving me backward, deeper into the love seat, driving my desire to a place it had not been for several years. "Fuck me, baby, please fuck me," I moaned, now clearly over the edge in sexual bliss, but also still just aware enough to realize that Ted was in a state where his subconscious was in control. And yes, the thought that I was violating the code of ethics I'd sworn to when I became a psychologist crossed my mind, but I didn't care. Between Ted's huge, pounding cock and my hungry cunt sucking in every last millimeter of his meaty shaft, I'd reached the point where all I wanted was to come and to fuck Ted over and over again.

Ted, it seems, had other ideas on his mind. "Come the fuck here," he said brusquely as he placed both hands under my armpits and pulled me to an upright position. Despite moving me, Ted's cock remained buried in my cunt as he continued to pump my pussy madly, as he continued to fill my cunt with hard, stiff dick. I wrapped my silk-covered legs around Ted's strong waist and while he stood in front of the small love seat, he continued to lift my body upward before lowering it downward, never once losing the sexual fusion his cock had formed with my pussy. Each up and down motion caused my massive titties to ride along his chest, and the hair that covered his chest stimulated my nipples, moreso than they already were. All I could think about was how good Ted's cock felt as it filled the space between my slippery wet pussy lips, how the tip of his prick felt as it prodded against the inner walls of my pussy, how it stretched the lips wide with each upward thrust.

"You like being fucked like this, don't you, Robyn?" Ted asked, his voice showing the effects of hard fucking. When I nodded my agreement, Ted slowly lowered me to the sofa, then stepped back to pull his cock from my pussy. There was no mistaking the obvious disappointment on my face as a result of losing the cunt-to-cock- contact, but Ted was quick to react and to try to satisfy me once again. "Stand up, bitch," Ted said, the words he used stimulating me now as much as his cock. When I stood, naked now except for the four-inch alligator leather high heels, the stockings that covered my legs, and the silver-framed glasses hanging suspended from my neck and between my tits, Ted slipped by me and sat on the love seat, his cock pointed directly at the ceiling, the tip purple with sexual rage. A small river of pre-cum oozed from his cock, glistening, leading my vision to where Ted obviously wanted me to go. But again, as he had all afternoon, Ted was in charge, in a way, and he made it clear what he wanted me to do next. "Kneel between my legs, Robyn," he said as he wrapped both hands around the massive shaft of his cock. "And suck my cock." I quickly folded my body between Ted's legs, knelt between his knees, and leaned forward, my hands replacing Ted's around his cock shaft, my mouth open and ready to take every inch of Ted's prick between my lips.

The first sensation to enter my brain was how salty Ted's cock was against my tongue. I felt him place his hand against the back of my head and push downward. As my mouth and tightly-closed lips inched down, down, down toward the base of Ted's cock, the salty taste increased, and it was then that I realized that I was tasting my own cunt juices that coated Ted's dick. More than the taste, which I realized I was enjoying, I found the fact that I was sucking a foreign cock, one that did not belong to my husband, even more stimulating. Ted didn't have to use his hand to force my mouth downward: I was so eager to suck this young, twenty-three year old man to orgasm that I was ready and willing to do it all by myself. I began to fuck Ted's cock with my mouth, faster and deeper with each downward motion, applying more sucking power with each upward motion. Ted began to moan loudly, and as I had done while he ate my pussy, he too began to shimmy his ass up and down, fucking my mouth, driving his dick deeper and deeper with each thrust, deeper and deeper between my teeth. My auburn colored hair must have prevented Ted from clearly seeing his cock disappearing into my mouth: I felt him brush the hair away until he saw every inch of his dick slide in and out of my mouth. "Oh, yes, Robyn," he cooed, "That's how a cock should be sucked." Faster now, Ted drove his cock wildly between my lips, and I sensed he was close to coming when the shaft of his cock swelled and the grip he placed on the back of my head became tighter.

Although I was alternating between continuing on with Ted's therapy and simply giving into sexual desire, I knew that I had to regain control of the situation at some point. For that reason, I allowed Ted's swollen, massive, lengthy cock to slide completely from my mouth. He protested at first, but when he saw me begin to straddle his cock, Ted smiled, knowing what was coming next. He knew we were returning to fucking.

I lifted my left leg and placed the thin tip of the high heeled shoe on the love seat cushion beside Ted's bare leg. The leather caressed his naked skin as he wrapped my ankle in his large hand and began to caress the silk-covered lower leg with his hands. "You like stockings baby?" I asked. Not surprised by his reaction, I eased my body forward until my hungry cunt was positioned just above the tip of Ted's dick. "Okay, baby, here I come," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Now, it's my turn to fuck you." Slowly, intentionally slowly, I bent my knees and lowered my ass until I felt the wide tip of Ted's cock once again press against my cunt lips. Just to tease Ted, I slid my cunt back and forth over the head of his cock, my pussy lips opening just enough to coat the end of Ted's prick with a heavy coat of my cunt juices. Ted extended his arms and wrapped his hands around my naked ass, his fingers digging in deeply on the soft flesh. I could tell by the look on his face that he wanted me to lower myself completely, to slide downward until his cock lay buried once again in my cunt. I decided that wasn't such a bad idea. Leaning forward so that both of my hands rested on Ted's shoulders, I lifted my right leg and rested the high-heeled foot beside Ted's other naked thigh. By now, my massive titties pressed against Ted's face and he eagerly sucked the extended nipples again, taking first the right nipple, then the left into his wet, wet mouth. "Such my tits, Ted," I said in his ear as I lowered my ass until three inches of hard, twenty-three year old cock slid between my cunt lips and after a series of slow, up and down movements, Ted's massive cock lay deeply embedded in my fifty-five year old cunt. Leaning back, but with my hands still resting on Ted's shoulders, I began to rock my body up and down, the length of Ted's cock sliding easily into my pussy. "Yes, yes, yes," I hissed as I inched closer to orgasm, my second of the session. "Fuck me, Ted, fuck me," I moaned as I increased the speed of the up and down fucking motion. When I was moving so fast that my ass began to bounce soundly off Ted's naked upper thighs, I knew there was but little time before I would again explode in orgasm, except this time when I came, a hard, stiff cock would be buried inside my hot cunt. "Pump me, goddamn it," I screamed now, my auburn hair hiding my face as I rolled my head back and lost myself in the best sex I'd had in many, many years. I opened my eyes just enough to see Ted staring at me, his eyes wide with pure lust and sexual need. Faster now, faster, and every sexual nerve in my body responded by craving more of this wonderful cock, needing more of every inch of prick this young man offered me. I knew I was older than Ted, and that fact alone, that I was old enough to be his mother, drove me on, guided me, made me want to come as soon as possible.

"OH, BABY, OH TED!" I screamed as Ted's cock exploded inside my pussy. Ted's prick spewed so much come into my cunt that I actually felt the stream of white hot crème slamming into my pussy walls. Ted arched his back and drove his cock deeper into me, the long shaft disappearing completely as my cunt hairs and the cock hairs at the base of his shaft meshed and created a sexual mat, woven tightly together by the sheer force of our fucking. "GIVE ME THAT FUCKING COCK, TED!" I screamed louder now, my back arched, my tits bouncing wildly, the nipples battering Ted's face as he desperately attempted to snatch one or either of the titty buds in his open mouth. Faster now, and suddenly, my own orgasm erupted, the second of the day. As each sexual tremor traveled at lightning speed through my body, I realized I was experiencing the best orgasm of my entire life as every muscle in my body tightened and I worked to make the orgasm last as long as humanly possible.

"OH, YOU FUCKER!" I cried louder now as I leaned forward and shoved the left nipple into Ted's mouth. His mouth was filled with so much of my fifty-five year old tit that I was certain I heard Ted beginning to gag. And it was because of that sound, the sound that it was me who was in control as the psychologist conducting this very special therapy session that I slammed my cunt down as hard as possible onto Ted's cock. For several long, blissful moments, Ted and I worked together to achieve the maximum effect of this mutual orgasm.

"THAT'S RIGHT, ROBYN," Ted screamed now, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘"RIDE MY COCK, ROBYN, BABY, RIDE MY FUCKING COCK!" Ted's strong hands grasped my ass cheeks tightly, sending small pangs of erotic and enjoyable pain through my ass and over my body. He suddenly released the right ass cheek and roughly grasped my left titty in his hand, squeezing the huge melon tightly and causing me as much pain in my tits as he had caused in my sweat-covered ass. On and on and on, Ted and I fucked like animals, each intent on making sure our orgasms never ended, each covered in intense, sensual joy as Ted's monster cock slid time after time into my cunt. Finally, when neither Ted nor I could take any more, I slumped over the young man's chest, my breathing hard and heavy, my heart, located under the two tits I pressed so tightly against Ted's naked chest. I found his earlobe and began to kiss the tender flesh while Ted's hands continued to cress my ass cheeks. Despite both of us being exhausted from the incredible fucking we'd just enjoyed, Ted decided to probe my asshole with his right index finger. I felt the pressure of the end of his finger, then, after Ted whispered for me to relax, felt him slowly slide his long, slim finger into my ass and begin to stimulate me from another, not very well used sexual opening. I allowed Ted to finger my asshole for several moments, enjoying the presence of a foreign object being pushed into my ass. But I was too exhausted to come again, and after a few more probes by Ted's finger in my ass, he removed the digit and embraced me, a deep wet kiss moistening our lips.

I don't recall how long I slept, bent over Ted's naked chest, our tits and nipples pressed together. But when I awoke, Ted kissed me and assisted me to a standing position. Like a gentleman, Ted helped me dress, and when I finally had all my clothing on except for the tattered panties, I sat on the love seat again with my small notebook in my hand. By this time, Ted had redressed as well, and for several moments, we simply sat and stared at each other. Ted's hand rested on my right thigh, his fingers finding the lace stocking top again. In my mind, I realized that I'd just had perhaps the most incredible sex in my life, and that the cock I so thoroughly enjoyed belonged not to someone near my age but, rather, to a twenty-three year old man who certainly knew how to use his tool.

It was then that some noise entered my office through the outside window and attracted my attention. When I returned my attention to Ted, he was holding my notebook in his hand, staring intently at me. For some reason, he kept repeating the word "stone, stone, stone," as his eyes locked onto mine. "Stone, Amanda, stone," he said again, his words sounding as if they were coming from a well, from some deep place inside me, from somewhere far, far away. "Do you hear me, Amanda?" Ted asked again, his left hand now pressed firmly against the stocking top. I looked down at Ted's hand and suddenly had the feeling that I'd been on a journey to someplace I'd only dreamed of, some place I seemed to have been unable to get to my entire life. Ted lifted his hand from the stocking top and came to rest upon my hand, his skin warm still from the fucking we'd just completed. "Amanda, do you hear me? Stone, Amanda, stone." I turned my eyes to see Ted, suddenly seeing him in a completely different light. Ted continued to say the word "stone" over and over, his hand never leaving mine.

But something was not quite right with the words I heard Ted saying to me. Why was he calling me "Amanda?" Why did he continue to repeat the word "stone" each time he used a name I did not recognize? Suddenly, Ted's face seemed more familiar than it had since I'd started coming to him for the psychological help I needed to curb the anxieties and fears that had consumed my life for so long. I vaguely recalled entering Ted's office earlier that afternoon, but more than that, I began to recall bits and pieces of the most incredible dream I'd had in my entire life. My entire body felt relaxed, calm, satisfied, as if I'd just had the best meal of my life. Looking at Ted now, I saw the same kind, caring, and compassionate man who had worked so hard to teach me how to escape my lack of self-confidence. I saw the same Doctor Ted I once convinced myself I was attracted to, the same young man who was brilliant enough to have obtained his doctorate in psychology before he reached the age of twenty—five. Ted flashed a brilliant smile at me and once again, I felt my heart sink for this man that I believed I loved. I watched as Ted wrote something in the small notebook still in his lap, and although I wasn't sure he noticed, it was clear to me that Ted had failed to close the zipper on his trousers. Incredibly, I saw that Ted had a large bulge in his trousers, in the same location where my ex-husband's cock would rise before he fucked me so many years ago.

"Welcome back, Robyn," Ted said, his voice warm and reassuring. "You did quite well during the session. Quite well indeed." And then, finally, everything came rushing back to me, how I'd decided to dress differently from the normal pants suits I usually wore to my sessions with Ted. I remembered how Ted had called me earlier that morning, explaining how he wanted us to have an extended session that evening. I recalled how, when I arrived, Ted had suggested using the trance therapy to take me to a place where I had no fears, where my anxieties didn't exist. Ted easily interpreted the expression on my face as one full of questions, and he gently laid his hand again on the lace stocking top that seemed to be forever finding its way from under my dress. For the next several moments, Ted explained how the technique he'd used had caused an inner personality to surface, to come forth and force me to act in ways I had only dreamed of before. When I pressed Ted for a description of my actions, Ted explained how, to his surprise, I'd taken on the personality of a therapist, and had treated him as the client. He laughed as he described me kissing him, pressing my body against him, and even removing my clothing. "But nothing happened, Robyn, I assure you," Ted said, his hand still resting upon the lace stocking top.

Finally, Ted announced that our extended session had come to an end. I was saddened to leave, but I'd become accustomed to feeling that way whenever our sessions came to an end. Ted stood and assisted me to a standing position, even wrapping his arms around me in a warm embrace. "We'll continue this next week, Robyn," Ted said. As I turned to the door to leave, I stumbled as the right stiletto heel seemed to snag on the carpet. Ted caught me and prevented me from falling, but as I looked down to make sure the four inch heels didn't snag again, I couldn't help but notice a rag lying at my feet.

Most of all, I couldn't get over how much the tattered piece of cloth resembled the same type of fabric as the white satin panties I'd worn that morning.