I'd been coming to her, on and off, for over two years now. Therapy. She was my therapist. I talked and talked and she'd nod her head or make some quiet observation. I'd listen to her and even tried to do some of the things she offered. Tried.
But mostly I kept coming back because I liked the sound of her voice. Musically female. Very female. Motown, with just a touch of Joni Mitchell.
She wouldn't laugh too often (not professional I suspect) but I liked her laugh too.
Ok just who am I trying to kid? I kept coming back because I wanted to fuck her! And I harbored the fantasy that she wanted me as well. Sure, of course she did. Every therapist wants to fuck the guy on the couch just because he wants it so much. Yep that's how it works I'm positive.
So today when she arrived in her short red skirt and black slingback heels I planned to change things.
Have I mentioned that the woman exuded sex appeal? I mean the woman was a walking wet-dream. It didn't matter (to me) what she wore to our sessions or if her hair wasn't perfect. It just really didn't matter. She was sex with a capital S. The bonus points came from the fact that she was aware of this. And no doubt she was very aware of the effect she had on me.
I say it didn't matter how she dressed, and that was true. But over the course of our time together there had been a change. Slowly the skirts became shorter and the heels higher. Her choice of blouse or sweater remained steadfastly conservative. This one bit of fashion seemed to define professional appearance for her. Every button was buttoned. Or if she wore a sweater, it was never too tight or too low cut.
To say she was 'built' was an understatement. She'd paid good money for THEM to look that good. Come Saturday night I'm sure they made their presence fully known. But here in the office they tried to go un-noticed. Fat chance. The cover-up only fueled my thoughts. And on the nights with the air conditioning was left too cool...well you know.
So, as I said, the skirts slowly got shorter. Tonight her skirt was tighter and shorter then it had ever been. A date later perhaps? "Thank you darlin", I thought. Also I'd noticed her crossing her legs more then usual (yes I keep a running count sort of). I wasn't sure but it seemed that with each crossing, more leg was revealed. This is a subtle point I know but often she did not give it a tug after each crossing.
But I may have been hallucinating all of this you know? Who cares? During this session things were going to change.
I had written her a letter.
When she had settled down and was just about to begin I handed it to her. Without a word she unfolded the note and began to read...
This will be direct and to the point.
I want you. From the first minute I saw you, I wanted you. Every minute that I sit here and listen to your voice I want you. Not one second passes in this room that I don't want to take you. To be surrounded but your mouth. Or to be buried 6 inches deep in the warmth of your pussy.
When I get up to leave I can barely contain the hard-on you have produced.
You must know this. You must sense how I feel. You must have noticed my cock swelling in my pants, straining to get to you.
I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you. My whole body aches to touch you.
You. I want you. Three short words.
Her breathing changed as she read. The room was too dark to tell if she turned red with anger or embarrassment or...? I could not take my eyes off of her, looking for some acknowledgement. I felt my face flush red as I sat motionless
She closed her eyes.
I waited.
A ten count came and went until finally she once again opened her eyes. I followed her gaze and noticed we had 45 minutes left in the session. 44 more than I would need but much less then I wanted!
Roxxxane stood up and quickly walked to the door. Was she going to open it and tell me to leave? God she had a great ass I thought even as I feared the worse. Men.
Blood rushed to my cock as I heard the metallic click of the door lock. She flipped the light switch so that only the desk lamp now illuminated the office. As she passed her desk she hesitated, for effect I knew, and took her glasses off, placing them gently next to a stack of papers.
I watched her movements with growing anticipation. She wanted me to look at her. Click, click click and with those three steps crossed the distance between us. Her hand found the top of my head, her fingers curled my hair. Grabbing a tight almost painful hunk of my hair she leaned forward, her breath hot in my ear.
"Once."
I almost came in my pants!
Pulling my head back she looked me straight in the eyes until she was sure I understood. Without another word she let her grasp loosen and become tender. She rustled my hair as she left.
Then she returned to her seat across from mine. This time when she sat down there was no false modesty, her skirt, unadjusted, rose silently up her thighs.
Was it now my turn to switch rolls? To be in charge? Or to collaborate. I wasn't sure which. But I stood up and walked towards her, stopping just one step away. I looked down at her but made no move to come closer. She uncrossed her legs, my eyes followed the movement, I couldn't help myself nor did I try.