Page 21 of Doctor Stuff

I’ve gone a week without masturbating before, but not since I started therapy with Dr. John. Sure, I could lie to him. I could get myself off and then tell him I did no such thing.

But I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that he’ll know.

And then he won’t fuck me.

Why I want my therapist to fuck me so badly, I can’t explain. If someone asked me, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. All I know is that I do. I crave his cock inside me like I’ve never craved anything else before.

My pussy is throbbing as I walk into his office. His focus on the computer makes me want to scream, but I go and sit down on the couch like a good girl. Today I’m wearing another dress. This one has a stretchy top that’s easy to pull down and a tight skirt that I have to tug on to keep from rolling up to my hips when I sit down.

Okay, so it’s more like clubwear than a daytime dress, but I don’t care.

After a moment, he looks up from the computer and nods, grabbing his clipboard. His suit today is a dark charcoal-gray with a silver-and-light-gray tie that matches the silver threads in his hair. I stare at him.

“Good afternoon, Traci,” he says, his dark eyes boring into me as he gets up from his seat and moves to the armchair across from me. “Did you masturbate this past week?”

“No, Dr. John.” I shake my head, unable to hide my eagerness. Even though I know he’s not going to fuck me right away. First, I have to get through my session with him.

A slight glimmer of a smile curves his lips. “Good girl.”

I squirm in place, pressing my thighs together. It’s crazy how those two words can make my entire body feel like it’s on fire with need. Especially right now when I’ve gone a whole week without masturbating. Though I did have an orgasm – once – because I had a dream about Dr. John fucking me and I got so turned on that I came in my sleep. I woke up in the middle of it, but I didn’t touch myself even then.

“Now stand up and take off your dress.”

The order doesn’t surprise me at all and I jump back to my feet, eager to obey. Eager to show him my body. Hoping it means the talking will end sooner, so we can get to the part of the session that I want.

“Come here.” He crooks his finger at me, putting the clipboard to the side. “Straddle my lap and put your hands behind your head.”

I almost whimper as I obey, my knees going on either side of his thighs, feeling the scrape of the fabric of his pants against the sensitive inner skin of my legs. My pussy no longer has any pressure on it, because my legs are spread too wide, and it’s making me crazy.

Dr. John leans back against the chair as I thread my fingers together against the back of my head, like he’s taking in the view of me atop him with my tits thrust out. His hands come to rest on my stomach and slide up to my breasts, and I moan, arching my back and pushing them against his palms. His thumbs sweep over my hard nipples, sending a shock of electricity through my whole body.

“Now then,” he says as he gives my tits a casual squeeze, hard enough to make me gasp. “Let’s pick up where we left off last week.”

As if I can remember, especially when he’s got his hands on my tits and I’m straddling him but without the pleasure of having him inside me.

He leads me through his questions as I pant and moan, whimpering as he pinches my nipples and twists them. When he sits up to suck one pert nub into his mouth, I almost explode in orgasm right then and there. It’s like a haze of lust descends over me while he torments me, now using both his mouth and his hands.

I would do anything for him right now, if only he’ll let me come.

But what he wants me to do is talk.

I’m spilling everything to him now. Secrets. Things I’ve never told anyone else before. Feelings that I never wanted to acknowledge, even to myself. The whole time, he keeps playing with my tits and I wouldn’t even know that he’s listening except that whenever I stop, he asks me another question. Somehow, he is paying attention. Better attention than I am, that’s for sure.

When he finally stops playing with my tits, I’m dizzy with need.

“Good girl. Get up, Traci, and bend over my desk.”

I almost fall off of him, my legs struggling to work, my knees barely able to keep me up. If he’s bothered by my awkwardness, it doesn’t show on his face or in his demeanor.

I get myself into position, bent over his desk, my elbows braced against the hard wood, tits hanging down beneath me. The tips of my nipples brush against the cool, hard surface of his desk, extra sensitive after all the attention he paid them.

He moves around behind me and opens a drawer, pulling something out. I turn to see what he’s doing, but he’s moved too quickly. I do hear the rip of plastic opening and then something stiff and cool presses against my overheated pussy.

“Next week I’m going to fuck your ass,” he says, as if he’s letting me know it will be sunny next week. “Has your ass ever been fucked before?”

“What? No!” I’m aghast, and at the same time, horribly turned on.

I’ve never even let anyone put a finger or anything else there.