HAPPY ENDING
She was cheating on her husband, cheating on her lover, and cheating on her girlfriend. "I just can't help it," she told her shrink, Doctor Dim-witty.
"Is there anyone you wouldn't fuck?" her therapist asked, suddenly becoming interested, his notepad on the table between them next to his glasses and his pen.
"The man down the street we used to call Pus Face," Cassie said. "At least not face to face. I'd let him eat my pussy, but... " She looked up soberly. "And you. That wouldn't be right, would it? Me fucking you. Unless you paid me, like it was a business deal," she said innocently.
"Of course," he said, becoming more attentive. "Did you hate your mother?" He was going to the standard questions, but no longer even writing her answers down on his note pad.
"Oh no," she said. "I loved my mother, usually about once a week," she added.
"And your father? Did you hate your father?" he asked, sticking to the same line of questioning from the book of sex therapist cliches.
"Of course not. He taught me to suck cock," she said casually. "I love my father."
"You seem to be fairly casual about sex," the doctor said, not even pretending any longer to write down what she said.
"Oh, I am not at all casual. I take it very seriously," she said. "It is very important, right? To mankind?"
"Well, yes, sociologically," he said.
"I mean to people," she said soberly.
"Yes, to people," the doctor said. "Are you trying to be helpful to people? Give them something they enjoy?"
"Exactly. I am just trying to do my part to make the world a better place," she said smiling. "More fun."
"So how much?" he asked.
"What?" she said, obviously confused.
"How much would you charge? You said you would not do it with me unless you charged. How much would that be?" he said.
"Oh, not much. You are a friend. I don't know," she said. "Maybe five."
"Five hundred dollars?"
"Five dollars. Is that too much?" she said.
"Oh no, my dear. That is certainly not too much," he said, putting his fingers together forming a steeple like structure with his hands, realizing he was at an advantage. "Maybe we could, ah, arrange a trade, like trading my services for yours," he said, again steepling his fingers.
"A trade?" she said.
"You could come here for no fee," he said. "I would not charge you and you wouldn't have to charge me," he added.
"I see," she said, "like a business deal?"
"Right. A business deal," he repeated. "Off the books, so to speak."
She nodded, thinking what 'off the books' meant. "I could do you, and you could do me, right?"
"Right."
She smiled, nodded and smoothed her dress over her knees. "Okay. You think it will make you happier?" she asked innocently.
"Yes, my dear. I am absolutely sure of it," he said.
The next week she came at the same time, but this time she wore a full, short dress, one that would come off quickly. She wore no panties and no bra. She didn't want to have anything that would get in the way and make it more difficult to have sex with the therapist, although she had a feeling there was something off about fucking her psychologist. She figured she could just lift the dress up or pull it over her head easily and quickly and be ready to go in less than a minute.
Even though he was much older, almost elderly, she still didn't mind because he was pleasant enough to look at and she had no prejudice against older people. They were people too, she reasoned, even though he wouldn't be her first choice. It was a business deal, she told herself. Just a trade for services.
When Dr. Dim-Witty's receptionist told Cassie to go into his office, she stood, straightened her dress, and went in. He went to the door, then locked it, then hit the intercom and told his secretary he was not to be bothered until his time slot with this patient was completed.
"Yes, Doctor," she said, sounding a little apprehensive.
"Okay, my dear, how shall we do this? You want to start, or would you like to talk first?"
Cassie smiled. "Whichever you'd like," she said. "I can do you first. However you'd like."
"I think I'd like to get my part out of the way," he said. "You could make me happy first. Then I will do the session," he said.
"You want me to take this off, or would you like me to just pull it up?" she asked innocently.
"Just pull it up. I like that," he said. "It seems a little naughtier, a bit more lascivious."
"Okay," she said lifting the dress up over her bush.
"Oh, my," he said. "That's lovely."
She asked if he'd like to eat her first or fuck her. "I'd like to fuck you first, and then I'd like to eat out what I put in there," he said with a lecherous grin.
"Okay, you sit on the chair and I'll climb on you," she said, holding up her dress. He sat down and she climbed on the chair, kneeling with one knee on each side of his lap. Cassie raised up over her therapist, then lowered herself down until his feeble old cock was embedded deep within her hungry and very wet pussy. She then began bouncing on the chair, forcing him up inside of her, maintaining a slow and steady rhythm, as if she was worried about going too fast for his heart to hold up.
The old therapist came in more of a whimper than a roar, and he held her against him as he climaxed weakly into her young, wet and very puffy pussy. She stayed over him after he'd come, holding still to let him recover. She was not all that educated, but she knew how to fuck. From years of experience, she knew how to please a man or woman and attended to his needs devotedly, jumping up and down on his elderly penis.
Finally, she raised up off of him and lifted a leg over his lap and stood up in front of the chair. "You want to eat me now?" she asked sweetly.
"Before I do, dear, sit in this chair and just let me look at that lovely young pussy, please. Just let me look at you. I have never seen anything more charming," he said, sounding more like sixty than thirty.
"Sure," she said taking his place in the chair, pulling her knees up and spreading them wide, letting him get a good view. "Look all you want."
