6
Marcus made his way into the city for his next sex therapy appointment. His earbuds were destroying his eardrums with Ministry's 'Psalm 69'. At this rate, he'd be deaf next week.
As he approached the building, he saw Christy in the square outside. She had a takeaway coffee in her hand. Marcus assumed she was finishing her lunch break, and that Marcus would be her first appointment of the afternoon. He noticed her wardrobe, and it was pretty much as he imagined the night before, except for the topless part (obviously). Christy was wearing a tight black top under an unbuttoned denim jacket. He immediately wondered what it'd be like to fuck her huge tits and to leave thick stains on the fabric.
Chicks wearing denim got him *so* fucking hot. He stared.
Christy caught him staring.
She winked.
Marcus's jaw dropped.
He went into the building, caught the elevator to the 10th, and waited. A few minutes later, he heard the elevator 'ding', and Christy appeared. She walked over to Marcus and gave him a cute peck on the cheek. She left a light smudge of lipstick on his cheek.
Marcus had no idea what was in store for him over the next hour, but he couldn't wait to find out.
Christy was wearing glasses today. He hadn't known there was anything wrong with her eyesight. He was curious. "Hello, Christy. It's great to see you again. I noticed you're wearing glasses today? I didn't know you wore them."
Christy didn't immediately respond to the question. She raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Marcus. Very nice to see you again too. Do you remember what we agreed at the end of our last session?"
Marcus tried hard to remember. The imagery of Christy emptying his sperm out of a condom into her mouth was his first recollection. As long as he lived, that memory would be tattooed onto his brain. "I can't remember what you might be referring to." He worried he was failing some kind of memory recall test.
Christy looked stern. "We agreed that from now on, you will refer to me as Miss Christy. Do you remember now?"
Marcus remembered. "Yes, Miss Christy. I remember."
"OK then. I'm glad we've got that sorted out." Christy continued. She shifted in her seat. Marcus noticed, but his mind was preoccupied on the present conversation. "So what were you asking me again?"
Marcus rephrased his question with the correct salutation. "I was wondering, Miss Christy, about your glasses. I don't remember you ever wearing them before."
Christy's explanation was simple. "You definitely haven't seen me wearing glasses before, Marcus, your memory isn't defective." Marcus wasn't sure whether this was a reference to his memory lapse from a moment earlier. "I usually wear contacts, but I felt like giving my eyeballs a bit of a break today."
Marcus fished for a compliment. "They suit you, Miss Christy. They make you look intelligent. Like, um, a sexy librarian." (Marcus probably watched too much unimaginative porn.)
"Thank you very much, Marcus," said Christy. "That's sweet of you to say. But I don't think I'm especially sexy."
MARCUS BEGGED TO FUCKING DIFFER.
Marcus gulped. "I think you are, Miss Christy. And you're clearly very intelligent. I noticed your diploma on the wall on my first visit." He looked up at the wall, and there it was -- a graduate diploma in sexual therapy. He wondered what types of things students would learn on a course like that.
"Thank you again, Marcus. That's nice to hear." Christy shifted again in her position on the couch.
Christy asked what Marcus's sex life had been like since they last met. Marcus didn't think he had any interesting tales to tell. Sure, he'd hooked up and gotten off, but there wasn't anything especially juicy.
Christy wanted something to work with. "You don't have anything you want to share with me? You know, Marcus, you only get out of therapy what you're prepared to put in, and the same applies to sex therapy." Marcus already knew what he wanted to put in, and he knew where he wanted to put it, but he also knew this wasn't the thrust of Christy's statement.
"OK so I met up with a guy who was into massage. I think he was a professional masseur, or was studying to become one. In any event, he really seemed to love his job, because after we got talking for a while, he said he takes every opportunity to practice his skill and hone his technique, and he suggested that since we were both horny, maybe he could give me a massage. I offered to give him a massage in return, but I told him I had almost no idea what I was doing. He responded with something like 'hahaha ok dude whatevs give me your address', and we set up a time and place for him to come over. It didn't seem to matter at all to him that I was completely incompetent, but whatever."
Christy took her glasses off. She was lost in thought. She put one of the temple tips into her mouth and gently sucked on it. She shifted in her seat again. Marcus was starting to worry. Christy seemed to be shifting from sitting to the right, to sitting to the left, and back again.
Marcus kept going. "Imagine my surprise when he shows up at my apartment building, at the agreed time, with a fucking massage table under his arm and with a sports bag slung over one shoulder. We greeted each other, but to be honest I was staggered that he seemed to have brought half of his home-office with him. He obviously wasn't kidding about getting some practice in. I took the sports bag off his shoulder, we managed to get the massage table in the lift, and I opened the door to my apartment. We introduced ourselves. He was a bear of a man. Stocky build, beautiful beard, thick ass thighs, sexy as fuck. He was pretty eager to get started. We moved my dining table out of the way and we set the massage table up in its place. I asked him what was in his sports bag and he opened it. I'd never seen so many different bottles of massage oils and lubricants in my life."
Christy kept listening but she continued shifting in her seat. Marcus wondered if she was feeling at ease. She took notes.
