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From: tweedled.dee@gmail.com
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Subject: {ASSM} } A Psychotherapeutic Encounter (concluded) (mf, nc)
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Date: Mon, 26 Sep 2005 02:10:08 -0400
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This story is copyright the author, sexual content is contained herein,
non-consensual situations are presented as a fantasy.  In no way does
the
author condone or encourage such behavior in real life.  If you like it
and
want to see others like it or continuations of it, email the author.
Or email the author simply if you have comments on the content.  The
author is unsure about how he feels about the whole non-consensual
aspects.  On the other hand, he can't deny its erotic power.

This is the conclusion of the story.  I posted shorter versions
previously.  Rather than do it in parts, I think it's short enough to
simply repost each time.  But this is the final part of this episode.

Toodles.

   Tweedle

      I had decided to go into therapy for a number of reasons.
Trouble at work, depression at home and general aimlessness were
making me feel a little desperate and a lot lost.  I didn't have
a lot of money because temping paid jack.  I had a college
degree but I was working in construction.  Easy money, and I
liked physical work.  I knew I could achieve more, but for
whatever reason I couldn't bring myself to do the work to get
there.  Blah blah blah, whatever.  I needed help, and an old
teacher of mine had recommended this psychiatrist to me, a lady.
Dr. Gilbert.
      I drove up to the office ten minutes early.  She had been
curt and businesslike on the phone, wasting no time in
pleasantries, just telling me a time and giving directions.  She
gave the impression of someone in control.  The office complex
was in a residential district, nestled between sets of condos.
Very beige and nondescript, well landscaped, it barely looked
like an office complex.  Walking up, the only thing giving it
away were the names on the windows.  I came to her office and
walked in.
      The waiting room was simple and small.  Dimly lit, a
plastic plant stood in a corner, a few chairs, and a table with
magazines laid out neatly, all current.  The curtain was open,
although the view out was largely blocked by bushes and trees.
It was fall, and the leaves were just beginning to turn.
      I sat and picked up a magazine.  I could hear muffled
voices inside.  I assumed the office was soundproofed, but I
could vaguely hear through the air-conditioning ducts.  I
couldn't make out the words, but I could hear a man yelling,
interrupted by a woman speaking loudly but calmly.  Things
escalated quickly, and in a few minutes I heard a door slam open
and the man's voice became distinct.
      "...fucking bullshit.  She's not going to tell me what to do
and you're not either, you little cunt.  Fucking cunt conspiracy
is what it is."
      The door to the waiting room opened and a surprisingly
short man stormed out, opened the second door, and rushed away.
Dr. Gilbert came right after.
      "Mr. Reid!"
      He ignored her and I watched his silhouette disappear
behind the trees.  Dr. Gilbert stood at the door looking after
him.  She was about 5'6, thin, and strikingly attractive, at
least in profile.  She had light brunette hair and delicate,
pretty features.  She was lightly made up, and her clothes were
stylish but conservative-skirt, blouse and jacket.  Her clothes
didn't emphasize her figure, but she was clearly well
proportioned.  She looked to be about thirty.  She didn't
emphasize her looks, but she couldn't hide them, either.
      She stood for a moment watching after him, her look
intense, focused, and then turned to me.  "I'll be with you in a
minute," she said, and went back in the office.
      I was a little surprised by the whole thing, and a little
amused as well.  She stayed in the office maybe a minute, and
then came back out, smiling.  She reached out her hand abruptly.
"Mr. Connors?  I'm Dr. Gilbert."
      I stood up and took her hand - soft, fleshy, feminine, a
firm grip but not challenging.  "Pleased to meet you," I said,
and followed her in the office.
      The office was subtly lit, with a desk at one end and two
chairs facing each other at the other end.  She motioned me to
sit in one chair, which I did.  She sat in the other, facing me,
crossed her legs, and placed a pad of legal paper on her lap.  I
couldn't help glancing at the bottom part of her shins exposed
by her skirt.
      "How can I help you?" she asked.
      "I, uh..." I was trying to look her in the eye, and she was
looking at me frankly, directly.  I could feel her breasts
pulling my gaze like a magnet, but I tried to resist, keep her
gaze.  I knew my eyes flicked down, couldn't help it.  They
always betray me.  "What was going on with that guy?"
      For the first time I saw a crack in her armor.  A slight
pause, maybe a flush in her skin.  "You mean the patient before
you?"
      "Yeah, the guy talking about the cunt conspiracy."
      "Is that something you think about?"
      I laughed.  Now she was really blowing it.  What kind of 25
cent psychiatry was that?  Always answering a question with a
question.  "No," I said.  "But what was he so upset about?"
      Now she smiled, a little bit calmer.  "I can't discuss
other patients, I'm afraid.  That's confidential."  Back on safe
ground.
      "Do you always get your patients so upset?"
      She smiled again, but this one was nervous.  It was so
interesting to watch her vacillate like this.  "Sometimes people
need to get upset.  Sometimes that's part of the process."
      Looks like you're a little bit upset yourself, I thought.
"That sounds like something they tell you in school.  It could
be that sometimes psychiatrists screw up, too.  Do you think
he's coming back?"
      She paused a moment, considering my question.  Or, I
thought, considering how to answer my question.  She already
knew what she thought.  "I don't know," she finally said, with a
shrug.
      Ah, wrong answer, I thought.  Honest, but now I saw she
wasn't as sure of herself as she appeared.  Two minutes into our
first meeting and some doubt was showing.  She should have lied
to me.  God but her legs looked beautiful.  Shapely, young,
creamy, smooth.  I was noticing their outlines continue under
her skirt.
      "Everything about this experience has been unprofessional,"
I said.  "First this guy comes out yelling like that.  Now,
you're telling me confidential information.  You shouldn't be
telling me whether you think he's coming back or not.  Are you
going to talk about how you feel about me with other patients?"
      "Is that something you're afraid of?"
      I couldn't help myself, I literally rolled my eyes.
"Jesus, lady, get real, would you?  These are legitimate
questions I'm asking.  This is like amateur psychiatry.  I don't
know what my friend was thinking when they recommended you."  I
got up and grabbed my coat to go.  Looking down at her, I
continued.  "And those clothes.  Who in God's name told you to
dress like that?  A skirt that short.  Is that how you deal with
your patients?  Dress up in a short skirt to impress them with
your professionalism?"  She just looked up at me, not saying
anything.  I turned to leave.
      "Would you like to see what's underneath it?"
      Whoa.  I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand on the
doorknob.
      "Why don't you tell my why you came to see me, Mr.
Connors?"
      I turned around, looked at her.  She had her stone face on
again.  What game was she playing?.
      "I'm here cause I can't fuck a woman without tying her up
first, and it's screwed up all my relationships.  I'm trying to
figure out who's fucked up, me or my girlfriends.  I'm trying to
figure out if I should try to fix this in me or if I just need
to find the right woman."
      "And trying to figure that out is what you're already
doing.  We both know that my skirt is perfectly appropriate and
professional.  But you can't help but looking at it.  Now you're
attacking me not because I'm wearing a skirt, but because of
what's underneath the skirt, isn't that right, Mr. Connors?  The
relationship you're already building with me is typical of the
way you relate to all women."
      I walked back to the chair and sat down, crossed my legs,
leaned back, held my hand to my chin, and just stared at her.
Not blinking, locking my gaze with hers.  She didn't say
anything back to me, kept her neutral shrink gaze.  She was well
trained.  Five minutes we must have sat like that.  She didn't
flinch, but I didn't either.  I felt totally calm.
      "You're right, I would like to see what's underneath that
skirt.  Take it off."
      I was hoping for a response, another chink in her armor,
but I wasn't getting anything.  "If you really want to deal with
this issue, Mr. Connors, this needs to be a safe and neutral
place to do it," she said, cool as a popsicle, didn't miss a
beat.  "Just replicating the patterns isn't going to help you
resolve them.  I'm not one of your girlfriends and I'm not going
to become one.  I am a psychoanalyst and I can help you talk
them through."
      As she was saying all this I let my gaze clearly drift down
to her breasts.  Not looking her in the eyes, but staring at her
breasts, I said, "Take your skirt off, Dr. Gilbert."
      "I'm not going to do that."
      "Did you notice that your nipples are hard?" I let my eyes
go back to her face.  She couldn't deny it, her nipples were
pushing out against her blouse.  Whatever cool exterior she was
showing, I was getting to her.  And now her face was flushing.
She wasn't sure how to handle this.  There was a long moment of
silence, but it was like an awkward moment at a cocktail party.
She wasn't sure what to say.
      All of which was great for me.  I stood up and stepped
close to her, she had to tilt her head back to look up at me.
She was trying to stay professional but I could see there was a
hint of fear.
      "Please sit down Mr. Conormmmph!"
      Her phrase was interrupted by the index and middle finger
of my right hand being authoritatively thrust into her mouth.
Her eyes went wide with shock and she immediately grabbed my arm
with both her hands, trying to push it away from her mouth.  She
started to shake her head violently back and forth, and I let
her succeed in pushing my arm away only so that I could twist my
hand around and grab both of her petite wrists.  I pinned her
hands quickly in her lap and grabbed her chin with my left hand,
holding both fingers at her lips.  She shut her mouth.
      "Open your mouth Dr. Gilbert."  She kept it tightly shut
and shook her head, looking at me in terror and fury.  "What do
you think your governing board is going to say when I go to them
and tell them you asked me if you'd like to see what's under
your skirt?  Do you remember you said that to me, Dr. Gilbert?
Regardless of whether its length is appropriate, do you think
that's a very professional question to ask one of your patients?
I will ruin your career, I swear to God.  I will find every
professional journal I can find, I will complain about you to
every organization that exists.  Now open your goddamned mouth
right now!"
      She hesitated, doubt and fear flickering over her eyes.  My
threat was total bullshit, of course.  What kind of organization
is going to listen to a crackpot patient with no evidence who'd
only known this doctor for two minutes?  But she just needed an
excuse.  I could tell.  I felt like I got this woman.  I had no
doubt at all, and I was pounding that into her, building her
doubt with my certainty.  I pushed my fingers against her mouth,
and she didn't quite open up, but now I could push my fingers
roughly between her teeth., deep into her mouth.  She made a
gagging sound.  I pulled my fingers back and pushed them in
again, I started fucking her mouth with my fingers, holding her
hands hard against her lips, pushing down against her clenched
thighs
      "Suck," I said.  She looked at me with real terror now, her
eyes wide.  "Suck or I am going to hurt you." I emphasized the
last two words by bending my palm down as I thrust into her
mouth, whacking her jaw hard with the heel of my palm.  She
grunted in pain, but got the idea.  She closed her eyes, tilted
her head back, and using her tongue on my fingers.  Really
sucking them, slurping them.  The sound was obscene.
      I did that until my fingers started to get sore from the
friction rubbing them along the roof of her mouth and her teeth.
I pulled my fingers out, grabbed her by the hair behind her
head, and lifted her up out of her chair.
      "You know what I'm going to do to you?" I said, arching her
head back.
      "No," she gasped.
      "Guess."
      Her eyes were wet as she looked at me, tears starting to
pool.  She weakly tried twisting her wrists out of my hand.  I
shook her by the head to make her stop. "Please don't."
      "I'll make a deal with you, doctor.  I'll reach under your
skirt right now, and if you're dry, I'll let you go, I'll never
see you again.  But if you're wet, you're mine, every hole you
have, every fuck-hole in your body."
      "No." Tears were flowing freely now.
      "I'm not giving you a choice.  Spread your legs."
      "No, please."
      She knew she was lost.  I could feel the heat coming from
under her skirt.  It was like the heat from a furnace.  She must
be soaking.
      "For the last time, spread your legs."
      "No."
      I let go of her arms and gave her a swift, hard slap in the
face and quickly shoved her to the center of the room.  She
stumbled forward, almost falling over, but kept her balance and
stood with her back to me, slightly hunched over, her arms held
out for balance.
      "Take your skirt off," I said.
      She didn't turn around.  She didn't change her posture,
just stood there with her arms held out like that.  I could see
her hands trembling.  I was wondering if she was really sobbing
now, but I couldn't tell.  Her back wasn't shuddering.  She was
standing so still.
      "I don't want to," she finally said.
      "I'll give you a second and final chance.  Take your skirt
off."
      "No," she said, still not moving, standing hunched over,
like she was waiting for someone to hit her.  I grabbed her by
her hair and swung her back towards the chair.  She grabbed my
arm with her hands, trying to relieve the pressure.  I pushed
her down over the arm of the chair, so her hips were balanced on
the arm, with her torso splayed over the seat and her legs
extended back for balance.  I pushed my foot against the back of
her knees and pushed forward on her head, forcing her to lean
all her weight on her hips.  She held onto the other arm of the
chair.  I kept my left hand pushing her head down, and with my
right hand I started spanking her.  I kept her skirt on.  It
wasn't going to be me taking it off.  I spanked her through her
skirt, hard and long, letting my hand occasionally slip between
her legs on a spank.  Every spank she grunted or squealed.  But
she didn't scream.  And she had stopped crying.
      I don't know how many times I spanked her.  Thirty?  Fifty?
My hand was sore by the time I was finished.  I slipped my hands
under her arm pits, lifted her on her feet, and moved her to the
center of the room.  I turned her to face the chairs and then
walked in front of her.  For the first time since I'd first
pulled her out of her chair, I saw her face.  She had been
crying a little, but not hard.  Her breathing was heavy, her
face flushed, and her nipples were still poking out from beneath
her blouse.  The look on her face I couldn't quite describe.
Not frightened, not angry.  Stunned, I would say.
      "Now take your skirt off."
      She held my gaze for a long moment.  I considered pointing
out to her how much of a role she was playing in this.  I
considered telling her that all she needed to do to stop this
was scream.  There were people in offices all around the
building.  But I didn't.  She needed to feel like she was being
forced.  She needed to feel like she had no choices to go into
this, even if on some level she knew there was a choice.  She
wasn't ready to face the fact that she was a willing
participant.
      Without a word, she reached behind her back, undid a clasp,
and pulled down a zipper.  She pushed down on her skirt and it
fell easily to her feet.  Her blouse still gave her some
modesty, covered her hips.  But God, her legs.  Amazing,
luscious, firm, healthy.  When I looked back up at her face, I
could see she had been watching me the entire time.
      "Now your blouse."
      Still looking at me, she deliberately undid the buttons on
her blouse and held her arms behind her back to let it slip to
the ground.  Her firm breasts were held by an unadorned green
bra.  Her panties were white and entirely unremarkable.
      "Now your panties."
      I could see her breathing deepen.  "Don't do this," she
said.
      "Don't test me again, bitch.  If you thought it hurt the
last time, you ain't seen nothing yet."
      She put her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and
pushed them down.  She had to bend over to push them all the way
down.  When she straightened, she held her hands clasped in
front of her crotch, and looked at the ground.  Her lips were
trembling.  I went and stood behind her and placed my foot
between hers, and pushed her legs apart.  Then I reached around,
took her hands from in front of her, and guided them behind her
head.  I ran my hand down her back and held her ass, which was
bright red and very warm.  I slid my hand down the inside of her
thighs.  She was shuddering, trembling, wearing only her bra.  I
was leaning down now, moving around her side, moving back in
front of her as I ran my hands all the way down her thigh, and
then back up between her legs, to her open crotch.  I ran one
hand through her bush, up to her stomach, and then down again,
between her legs.  Her pussy, not surprisingly, was drenched,
her lips swollen and parted.   I looked up at her and slid my
index finger along the folds of her lubricated flesh up and over
her clit.  She gasped, jerked her hips, and instinctively
reached out for balance, putting her hands on my shoulders.
      I stood up and grabbed her by her hair with my left hand
and arched her head back.  "You moved your hands," I said,
keeping  my right hand between her legs.
      "I'm sorry,ah!" She gasped as I pushed a finger inside her
pussy.
      "Take your bra off."  She looked at me uncertainly.  Now?
It was an awkward position she was in, arched backwards, holding
onto me for support.  If she let go of my shoulders, the only
thing supporting her would be my hand grasping her crotch, my
finger up her cunt.  "Don't look at me without permission.  Look
down or keep your eyes closed."
      She looked away from me.  "If I let go of you I'll fall
over," she said.  She closed here eyes.  I let her straighten
slightly but kept her quite off balance.
      "Try it and see what happens."
      She gingerly let go of my shoulders.  I felt her weight on
my hand between her legs and I had to really hold her up now.  I
pushed two fingers inside of her for leverage.  She exhaled
sharply but was reaching behind her back to undo her bra clasp.
She succeeded and let the bra fall to the floor.
      Her breasts were fucking unbelievable.  This lady was in
her thirties but her breasts looked like she was 18.  Natural,
pert, just the right size.  She must work out like a maniac.
      "Hold your elbows behind your back," I told her.  She
glanced up at me, questioningly, making eye contact.  That
pissed me off.  "Don't fucking look at me unless I tell you to!"
I barked at her, jerking her hair for emphasis.  She let out a
little pained "Ah!" at each jerk and she was struggling to keep
her balance.  She quickly folded her arms behind her back,
holding onto her elbows.  She got the idea.
      And she kept her eyes closed.  Now we were getting
somewhere.
      Meanwhile, I had two fingers up her sopping cunt the entire
time.  Now I pushed her up to a standing position, let go of her
hair, and started pumping my fingers in and out.  She kept her
eyes, closed but turned her head away from me, like she was
embarrassed.  She was breathing heavily now, biting her lip, and
she couldn't keep her hips from rocking slightly to meet the
thrusts of my fingers.  I leaned my head down to her perfect
breasts and started to lick her nipples.  She  audibly sucked in
her breath.  I could feel her pussy tightening around my
fingers.  I bet her nipple gently and she gasped.  Then I bit it
hard.
      "Ow," she said  I bit harder.  "Ow ow ow ow, that hurts,
that hurts."  I stopped and looked up at her face.  She was
looking at me.
      "I know it hurts," I said.  "That was a test to see if
you'd keep your hands behind your back.  Which you passed.
Unfortunately, you chose to look at me, so that you failed."
      She immediately looked at the ground.  "I'm sorry."  Her
face, already flush, was turning beet red, and most amazingly,
her pussy wetly clenched hard around my fingers.  Being caught
embarrassed her, ashamed her, and really turned her on.
      I pulled my fingers out of her cunt and rubbed my fingers
up and down her pussy, but focusing on the top, her clit.  "That
was a test," I told her.  I started to rub two fingers around
her clit.  She was looking down, but now she closed her eyes and
lifted her head back.  She was already so turned on, I'm sure
she wasn't far from the edge.  "And this is punishment."  This
time I grabbed her nipples between my fingers, pinched, and
twisted, hard.
      "Oh, God, ow, ah, ow."  Her eyes were furrowed in a focused
kind of pain, my hand was rubbing her clit hard, and I was
really laying into her nipple.
      "If you want to cum, you'd better ask permission, you
hear?"  I gave another hard twist to her nipple for emphasis.
      Immediately, she said, "Can I cum, can I cum?  Oh God, can
I cum?"  Her head was back, her hips pushing as best they could
against my fingers, her knees were bent, her face twisted on the
conflicting pleasure in her pussy and pain in her tit.  I
stopped rubbing her clit and started finger fucking her pussy
again.
      "Not yet," I said
      "I'm...so...close..." each word punctuated by her rocking hips,
her shortness of breath.
      "Not without permission.  Don't you dare."  I took my
fingers out of her pussy and started on her clit again, rubbing
in hard circles at the top of her pussy.
      "Oh, but, oh God, but you can't, I can't, ah, ah, ah, I
can't stop."  She had to bend her knees into a slight crouch to
keep her balance as her hips thrust more and more against my
fingers.  "Oh God please, please, can I cum, oh God..."
      "No you may not," I said, rubbing faster, harder against
her bucking hips.
      "Oh God, oh God, ah-ha!  God!"  Now she came in a last,
violent thrust that sent her off her balance.  Her arms shot
towards me and she grabbed onto my shoulders for balance as she
lost control of her spasming pelvis and hips.  Her face was
contorted in a look of painful ecstasy - she thrust her whole
body against mine, buried her head in my neck as pushed her
breasts against my chest and kept pushing her clit and pussy
against my hand.
      Her body slowly came down.  I kept hold of her pussy, her
body relaxed, and as she let her breath out, she started do cry.
Quietly, gasping against my shoulder, I could feel the wetness
of her tears against my neck.
      "You came without permission," I said.
      "I'm sorry," she said into my neck.
      "You moved your arms from behind your back without
permission."
      She seemed to cry harder.  She didn't say anything, but
instead kissed me gently on my neck and rested her forhead
against my jaw.  Trying to get control of the crying?  I
couldn't tell.  She kissed me on my cheek and then tried to kiss
me on my lips, but I pulled my head back.
      "Without permission?" I asked.  She opened her eyes and
looked at me, shocked, hurt, tears welling over.  She took her
arms from around my neck and wrapped them behind her back.  She
looked down and stood before me, head bowed, legs together,
naked, exposed and crying.  I went to her and lifter her chin
up.  To her great credit, she didn't open her eyes.  I kissed
her, full and hard, our lips parted and our tongues thrust
together.  She pushed her body into mine and I wrapped my arms
around her, one hand pulling her torso into me, the other hand
clenching her ass.  She spread her legs as she pushed her hips
into me, searching for and finding my hardness.  We kissed like
that for a few minutes, passionately, my cock throbbing so hard
I thought I might have a hard time keeping my own orgasm in
check.
      And through all this she didn't unfold her arms from behind
her back or open her eyes.  And she made it very clear she
wanted me to fuck her.  And I was going to.  Just not the way
she expected.
      "Do you have any hand lotion?" I asked.
      "On my desk," she said.
      "Go get it."
      She went to her desk, got a small, plastic bottle from it,
and came back to me.  She stood in front of me, her head bowed,
holding the bottle in front of her stomach.  I took it from her.
      "Go bend over your desk."
      She waited a moment - I could feel her wanting to look up
at me, but instead she went over to her desk, and bent down over
her desk, placing her palms and elbows on the surface.  Her legs
were clamped together.  I went behind them and gently kicked at
her ankles, like kicking at the tires of a car, or the hind of a
horse.  She spread her legs a shoulder width apart for me.  I
opened the bottle, turned it upside down over her ass, and
squirted a long stream along her ass cheeks and into the crack
of her ass.  I rubbed it in with one hand, first over her
cheeks, and then slipping into her ass, searching for her anus.
When my index finger reached it, I could feel how tightly
clenched it was.
      "Relax," I said.  She made an effort and I could feel her
ass loosen.  I started to insinuate my finger up in there.
      "Mr. Connors, I've never..."
      "Sir to you," I said.
      "Sir, nobody's ever done this to me before."
      "And I should care why?"
      She gasped as I pushed my finger into her up to my knuckle.
      "I don't know if I'm ready," she said, breathing heavily.
      "Why don't you touch yourself where you are ready?"
      "Sir?" she asked.  I took one arm from the desk and guided
it between her legs.  She got the idea and started to stroke
herself, leaning down on her shoulder, the other arm holding her
up.  I slowly pushed my finger further in.
      "Don't cum without permission," I told her.
      "Yes, sir," she said, and I knew that she'd have an easier
time complying now that she was touching herself.  And I knew
also that she would comply.  She was the most obedient woman I'd
ever tied up (though I hadn't even gotten that far with her
yet).
      My finger was fully pressed into her ass now, and I took my
middle finger and started to wriggle it next to its companion.
She was gasping openly now, her muscles clenching so tightly
around my finger.
      "Do you think you're ready for my cock?" I asked her.
      "I don't know, sir," she said still stroking herself.
      "Do you want it?"
      "Oh, yes sir," she said, rocking her hips against her hand,
against my fingers.  I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock,
rock hard, the circumcised head purple.  It wouldn't take me
long to cum.  I dripped lotion onto it and stroked it with my
hand, and then moved behind it, placing it at her now gaping ass
cheeks.  I pulled my fingers out and put it at her now slightly
open anus.  She had both her arms on the desk now, bracing for
my entrance.  I started to push in.  It wasn't letting me.
      "Sir, it's too big, I can't..."
      I slapped her hard on the ass.  "Don't tell me about can't.
You will, you understand?  Relax your ass.  Take it in."
      She breathed deeply let her head fall down, concentrating,
trying to focus.  I felt her muscles unclench slightly and I
pushed harder, finally getting the head of my cock to pop
inside.  She cried out.
      "Sir, it hurts," she said, her voice tight and high.
      "Shut up!" I yelled, slapping her hard on the ass.   I
pushed myself harder into her.  She cried out in pain.  "I know
it hurts, you stupid bitch.  The more you fight it, the more it
hurts.  Stop fighting."
      She was breathing heavily now, like she'd just run a race,
and was gasping.  I roughly grabbed her hand and pushed it back
between her legs.  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," I told
her.  "Your pain isn't so big.  Stop fighting it.  Just feel
it."
      I was about halfway in now.  She was really trying to relax
herself, I could tell.  I started to stroke gently now, pulling
out a little and pushing in a little, fucking her very slightly.
I dripped more cream on my cock as I pulled out, trying to keep
her lubricated.  Every time I pushed in, I could feel her let me
in slightly more.  And she was slowly starting to heat herself
up again with her hand between her legs.
      Gradually, my strokes became longer and deeper.  I was
going slow a little for her but mostly for me.  I didn't want to
cum til I got all the way in, and I was really close.  She was
so tight and so fucking hot.  I don't know how I avoided it.
Just going really slow, I guess.  But after a little while I was
finally able to go all the way in, and she was stroking herself
hard, her forehead resting against the deck, her body tensed.
      "Can I cum?" she asked.
      "Only when I cum," I told her.  "And I'm close.  Can you
feel how big I am?"
      "Yes, sir," she gasped.
      "Can you feel how close I am?"
      "Oh, yes, sir, please cum in me sir, cum inside me..."
      I started to ram her hard when she said that, and her ass
took me smooth and easy, totally open to me now, tight, yes,
much tighter than any pussy I'd ever fucked, but open.  She was
stroking herself as furiously as I was stroking her, and it
didn't take me more than a few moments before I groaned loudly
and slammed myself one final time into her.  She cried out and
started to cum right when she heard me groan, and oh man, oh
fuck, what a fucking feeling, to be squirting and spasming
inside of her at the same time that her ass was squeezing
rhythmically around me.  I could feel her orgasm so much more
distinctly in her ass than I ever did in any woman's pussy.  It
was amazing, and judging by how long her ass milked me, it was
pretty fucking incredible for her too.
      I collapsed onto her back, and she collapsed her weight on
her desk.  We lay like that a while, with my cock slowly
softening inside of her.
      Finally, I got up from her, pulled my cock out.  Lotion and
cum dripped out of her ass.  I slipped my cock back in my pants
and zipped up.
      "Don't get up, doctor.  I think our time is just about up,
but I think this might work out.  I'll see you at the same time
next week, if you can squeeze me in."
      She didn't say anything and didn't turn around.  She just
lay on the desk, spent, exhausted, humiliated.
      "I'll see you then," I said.  "Wear something appropriate."
      I turned around and walked out the door.  In the waiting
room, another woman, in her fifties, was waiting.  The doctor's
next patient.  For a moment, I thought about saying that the
doctor said to go right in, but I didn't want her fired.  This
psychotherapy thing might turn out to be quite interesting after
all.
       
Fin.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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