Christy the Sex Therapist

18

When Marcus woke up after his doze, he wasn't feeling quite as happy as when he first closed his eyes. I mean, sure, he was still pretty happy -- he was having the best sex of his life -- but he was also feeling confused.

It's one thing to be having awesome sex, but it's quite another to feel emotionally and psychologically stable. He had the first thing, at least for now, but he wasn't sure if he had the second.

No new text messages arrived from Miss Christy while he slept, and he wasn't sure whether he should reply to the one he received as he drifted off. Marcus missed Miss Christy too, but perhaps it was best just to chill for the rest of the day. He tried to keep his mind off tomorrow morning when he was due back at work for the start of the new week.

He wasn't sure what his feelings were. Had he inadvertently found himself in an intense form of psychotherapy? Was this some kind of uber-CIA bullshit designed to break people's brains? If last night was part of "therapy", it was a form of treatment he hadn't signed up for. The creeping thoughts seeped into the back of his brain -- am I being manipulated here? Is this some kind of scientific experiment? Am I a sexual guinea-pig? What the actual hell is going on? He tried to reassure himself that it was a mere coincidence that he and Miss Christy crossed paths in the supermarket; a mere coincidence that Miss Christy invited him over for dinner; a mere coincidence that he drowned in the beauty of Miss Christy's husband's beautiful penis and swallowed its offering; a mere coincidence that he ate Miss Christy's delicious cunt and drank her juices; and a mere coincidence that he slept the perfect sleep in Miss Christy's spare room.

Would it make any fucking sense at all if he showed up to his next appointment in Miss Christy's office? What would they even talk about? Actually, come to think of it, did he even *have* a next appointment? He wasn't sure if he had one, but he didn't think he did. He actually had no idea where his therapy was headed, and he felt it didn't seem to be leading him toward an answer to his central question.

Marcus ordered in a pizza and got stoned as fuck that night. He watched some porn, jerked off, checked his alarm for the next morning to make sure he wouldn't miss work, and went to sleep.

*

The next morning dawned. His first thought upon waking was 'I wonder what Miss Christy got up to yesterday afternoon'; his next was 'I wonder who she's seeing today at work'. He didn't know that Miss Christy went for a run yesterday afternoon while Alex tended to the gardening. Pretty regular suburban Sunday afternoon stuff. Miss Christy showered after her run and got herself off with the detachable shower nozzle. Marcus couldn't have known this, and even if he did, he couldn't have known what Miss Christy was thinking about when her snatch convulsed; he'd have been shocked to learn she was thinking about him.

*

Marcus entered the chat when he got home after work on Monday evening. 'Hey, Miss Christy, I missed you yesterday too. I hope you're OK. Thank you again for an amazing Saturday night.' He really REALLY wanted to add the eggplant emoji, but sanity prevailed. He couldn't think of Miss Christy anymore without his cock semi-chubbing up.

Miss Christy replied within minutes, almost as if she'd been sitting by her phone, waiting for Marcus to message her. 'Hey, glad to hear from you, quiet boi. Was a little worried. xx'

Marcus's dick moved at the spelling of 'boi'. He'd be her boi any fucking day of the week, but for now, he sidestepped it. 'I'm good, just had a quiet day when I got back home yesterday. Had work today. Work sucks but hey gotta pay rent.'

'Yeah I know', replied Miss Christy. There was a lull. Minutes passed, you know what it's like. Miss Christy was, strangely enough, the thirstier of the two. 'Hey ... so I'd really like to see you again soon. Would you like to go watch a movie or something?'

Marcus ran his hand through his long, sexy, dark hair. His fingers moved on his phone. 'Yeah OK that sounds fun. But what about your husband?' Marcus agonised over whether to refer to Alex as "Alex" or "your husband"; he was sure he made the right choice. It implied a little distance.

There was momentary silence. 'I'll tell him I'm working back late. It's cool. We both work flexible hours. So Wednesday night? xxx'

Marcus's reply was immediate. 'Fuck yeah'.

*

Wednesday night arrived. Marcus had arranged to meet Miss Christy at the movies. Miss Christy had suggested they watch the new James Bond film. Marcus couldn't give a shit what they watched, all he wanted was to sit in a dark room with Miss Christy for two hours. Marcus bought the tickets online the night before and had printed them off in advance. He waited for her. He'd already bought a tub of popcorn, which was nestled under one arm, and a cup of soft drink. He'd smuggled in a small flask of vodka to mix in with the soda.

Miss Christy appeared. She strode toward him. She looked so incredibly fuckable. He wanted to plant his flag right there, in the lobby; he just knew this was gonna be a good night. They hugged, and some of the popcorn spilled out the top of the tub.

They made their way to their cinema where the Bond flick was showing. The dude at the door checked their tickets and waved them in.

The room was sparsely populated ... and dark. They took their seats, in the back row, in the darkness.

"Hey, boi", said Miss Christy, kissing him on the cheek.

*

19

It was towards the end of the movie's run. Most people who wanted to see it had already seen it. There couldn't have been more than a dozen people in attendance.

The screen sprang to life and, as usual, the audience sat through a hundred and thirty-seven commercials and trailers for other movies before their film started. Marcus put the cup of soda in the cup holder at his side and passed the tub of popcorn to Miss Christy. She placed it on the vacant seat beside her. She wasn't hungry -- at least, not for popcorn -- but she loved that Marcus had engaged in the movie-going cliché of buying something from the candy bar for her. That was sweet, she thought.

Marcus, for his part, had just realised what this was. A date. He was on a fucking date. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a date.

"Hey, let's get comfortable, Marcus", whispered Miss Christy.

"What do you mean, Miss Christy? I'm already feeling very comfortable", Marcus responded.

Without another word, Miss Christy's fingers found a small switch on the side of her seat. A motor propelled a footrest out in front of her, and at the same time, her seat reclined. She looked at Marcus as if to say 'you too'. Marcus found the switch on his own seat. His footrest came out and his backrest tilted back. They weren't completely flat, like they would be in a bed; the seats were designed to only go back a certain angle. They were meant to watch a movie in, not to sleep in!

Once their seats were reclined back as far as they'd go, Miss Christy raised the armrest that lay between them. She snuggled into Marcus's chest.

"Comfier now, Marcus?", asked Miss Christy.

"Yes, Miss Christy, I'm feeling very comfortable. I always feel comfortable with you."

They whispered small talk to each other while they ignored capitalism. After what felt like the passing of millennia (seriously, empires rose and fell), the film eventually started. Neither of them were really interested in the movie or the Bond franchise in general. Miss Christy suggested this particular movie as the first thing that popped into her head, whereas Marcus couldn't give a shit about any of it at all. He liked movies, but he was into art cinema that told real stories, not billion-dollar blockbusters where CGI covers up for watery plots and terrible acting. It had been a long time since he'd been to a multiplex to watch a film, which was why he had no idea about how the seats reclined.

Marcus and Miss Christy continued snuggling. He listened to her breathing, and he watched as her chest rose and fell. If she was interested in the movie, then that was fine with him. He'd be happy to lie peacefully like this with her for the rest of the night until the cleaners threw them out.

*

Miss Christy looked away from the screen for a moment and her eyes met Marcus's. She wanted to see Marcus's reaction to the film. Marcus was watching the screen, but he wasn't really paying very much attention to what was happening. He was much more interested in what was happening by his side. As soon as he felt Miss Christy move to glance at him, he looked at her.

Through cinematic darkness, their eyes locked. Neither of them spoke, they just gazed at each other. Miss Christy rolled around so she was facing directly towards Marcus. At this point, the movie had officially gone to hell.

Miss Christy put her mouth to Marcus's ear. "Can you pass me the soda please, Marcus? I'm thirsty", she whispered. Marcus rolled over, retrieved the cup from the holder and passed it to her. She thanked him and inserted the straw in her mouth. She licked the top of the straw before she began, very slowly, while looking directly into Marcus's eyes the whole time, sucking the sweet, carbonated liquid up from the cup. She let the straw fall from her thick lips and handed the cup back to Marcus. Traces of lipstick remained on the end of the straw. "Thank you, Marcus. I needed that. I was so thirsty." Marcus put the cup back into the holder and rolled over to face Miss Christy again. He felt his cock straining against the fly of his pants. They snuggled together again.

Christy knew the effect she had on men. She knew Marcus would've boned up pretty firmly after watching her mini-performance. She subtly moved her hand toward his groin and ... yep, there it was. "I can feel your penis, Marcus. I can feel it through your pants. Is your penis hard ... for me?" She pouted seductively.

Marcus's first instinct was apology. "I'm really sorry, Miss Christy. I know you probably want to watch the rest of the movie."

"Fuck the movie, Marcus. Fuck it", she whispered in his ear. "Besides, there are other things to fuck, you know. Do you ... do you wanna fuck me, Marcus?" She poked her tongue into the corner of her lips, and for a second or two, Marcus stopped breathing.

So many thoughts raced through his head. He'd never had sex in a public place before. Sure, the movie theatre was dark and there weren't many people in the room, but ... what if? What if an usher came up to their row? What if they got busted with his dick out? What if the film stopped for some reason and the lights went on? What if there was a fire? What if Miss Christy made too much noise? FUCK, WHAT IF ALEX FOUND OUT???

He remembered he'd smuggled in a flask of vodka. He'd intended to mix it in with the soda so that he and Miss Christy could at least enjoy a cheap buzz while they watched a terrible film, but circumstances had evolved quickly. He unscrewed the cap and took a deep, long swig. It burned cold on the way down. He offered it to Miss Christy. She chugged a few swigs down without bothering to asking what it was. She exhaled silent fire.

Eventually, Marcus responded, in a whisper Miss Christy could barely even hear. "Miss Christy, you're the hottest woman I've ever met. I can't believe I've actually done any of this with you, but in the past few months I've fucked your mouth, your ass and your hand, but you always said your vagina was off-limits, even though I ate you out a few nights ago. I still can't believe I did that. You always said your vagina was for Alex. You're married. You said I can't, so ... I can't."

Every fibre in his being, and especially every atom in his cock, knew how much of a lie this was. He'd fucked her in just about every sense possible, except he hadn't fucked her cunt. Yet here he was, snuggled with her in a dark movie theatre. She was practically begging for it. He wanted to bury his dick deep in her pussy, and she knew it.

"Fuck marriage, Marcus", she whispered. "Fuck me. Fuck me now. I want you."

The movie continued flickering across the screen.

*

Miss Christy knew this was going to be a very delicate operation, and she'd have to call the shots. She reached down, unzipped Marcus's pants, and extracted his cock. She wasn't surprised to find the tip was already a little wet.

By this point, Marcus was wondering why Miss Christy hadn't suggested watching a porn movie? If they went to an adult theatre instead, they could've fucked all night and nobody would've cared. Eventually it dawned on him: the thought of fucking someone in a regular movie theatre is so much hotter.

The thrill of getting caught.

Miss Christy hitched up her skirt a couple of inches, took Marcus's hand, and led it towards her cunt. They were both still fully clothed. He felt her puss, he ran his fingertips across her lips. She was glisteningly, agonisingly wet. At this point, every movement was at a premium. Neither of them wanted anyone else in the theatre to know what was going on in the back row. Marcus was worried he might not be big enough to make this work, but Miss Christy knew how to handle the situation.

With both of them laying on their sides, facing each other, she guided his dick in. She tilted her hips forward to accommodate Marcus's size. Marcus felt like he'd just drowned his cock inside heaven. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Miss Christy's. The film rolled on.

It was such a struggle for the both of them to remain quiet, but even so, the occasional grunt or moan escaped their lips. Keeping quiet just made the whole thing so much hotter, so much sexier, and so much more meaningful.

Marcus was relieved that Miss Christy came quickly, because he knew he couldn't possibly last very long. When he was younger, he'd had the embarrassing experience of fucking some chick and unloading inside her before she came. She wasn't happy about it, and he never wanted to repeat that experience, especially not with Miss Christy! Even though they fucked in almost silence and almost darkness, there was enough light and sound for Marcus to see Miss Christy's eyes roll back in her head.

He felt her cuntlips contracting around his cock, and that was just about all Marcus could take. His balls spasmed and he fired his bullets into her.

They drowned in each other's eyes. The film was barely halfway through. They cleaned themselves up. Marcus put his wet, spent cock back into his pants, and Miss Christy pulled her skirt back down. They gathered up their things and left.

They walked towards the lobby, each of them inside their own post-orgasm trance.

"I had a great time tonight, Marcus. Thank you for the drink and the popcorn", said Miss Christy. The popcorn was probably still on the adjacent seat, completely untouched and uneaten. "And thank you for the dick."

Marcus couldn't make any sense out of this at all. Her husband had one of the biggest cocks he'd ever seen (and Marcus watched A LOT of porn), but for some reason, Miss Christy wanted Marcus's dick instead?

He kissed his date on the cheek and bade her goodnight, as a gentleman would. That wasn't enough for Miss Christy. She rammed her fat tongue down his throat and moaned into his mouth. She slapped him on the ass, winked at him, and walked away.

Marcus watched Miss Christy's ass sway as she left.

*

20

Marcus made his way home from the movie theatre in a daze. Not only had he just been on his first 'date' in like forever, but he fucked his date, quietly, in a dark and cavernous room, in public.

His date, Miss Christy, was perfect.

Had he died? Was this heaven?

As he sat on the quiet bus home, he wondered what Alex might think if he ever found out what had happened. His pulse quickened, but it calmed down slightly when he remembered that Miss Christy and Alex first met at an orgy. So maybe they had an open relationship? Maybe they both fucked around? He didn't know. But Miss Christy's earlier words of therapy kept ringing in his ears ... 'You don't get my pussy, Marcus. You don't ever get my pussy. My cunt is only ever for my husband. My vagina is off limits. We love each other.' Those words were tattooed on his brain. Did Miss Christy only let people she loved into her beaver? But it was undeniable. He'd just shot rope after rope after rope of his thick cum into her wet cunt.

He remembered her kissing him goodnight afterwards as their eyes adjusted to the brightness outside the movie theatre. He remembered the feeling of their tongues dancing around each other and mashing together just before she walked away to go home to Alex, and his dick thickened again. He looked around the bus and noticed he was the only passenger. He was sitting toward the back of the bus, well away from the driver. It was dark, and it'd easily be ten more minutes before the bus reached his destination.

He unzipped his pants, pulled his dick out, and drooled onto his hand. Even if the driver noticed what Marcus was up to, Marcus thought he probably wouldn't have cared anyway.

Very slowly, and very quietly, he started jerking off. The bus driver kept making the regular stops, but nobody ever got on or off. There were still quite a few stops to go before his own, and he felt like he was riding in his own giant personal taxicab.

Miss Christy's thick lips appeared in his mind's eye. He thought about how seductively she teased the soda out of the cup he gave her, of how they lay next to each other in the cinema, of how she'd expertly guided his cock into her box, and of how she'd silently coaxed a thick batch of sperm out of him. His hand moved rhythmically up and down his shaft.

He studied the back of the seat in front of him and noticed it was covered with graffiti. Someone had drawn a huge cock and balls on the back of the seat with a thick marker. While he wasn't exactly intending to use it as a target, he had to cum somewhere.

Marcus's orgasm built up and he came silently all over the drawing. Thick globs of his cum sprayed onto the back of the seat in front of him and slowly dribbled down towards the floor of the bus. The driver had no idea.

Marcus put his cock back into his pants and the bus continued to move towards his destination. He rang the bell as the bus approached his stop, and a few seconds later, the door opened and he disembarked. He walked the half a block to his building, walked up the stairs, undressed, showered, and climbed into bed.

It'd been a month or so since he last looked at Grindr. There was no need. He wasn't exactly looking for sex; in fact, at the moment, it felt like sex was looking for him. Maybe he should open Grindr again. But no -- not right now -- too tired.

As he plugged his phone in to recharge overnight, it pinged. A text message. From Miss Christy.

'Fuck, you're hot. xxx'

There was an attachment. A picture. He opened the file and found himself staring at a close-up of Miss Christy's perfect pussy. One hand had hitched up her skirt while the fingers of her other hand opened her cuntlips in invitation.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from it. His hand formed a fist, his pelvis lifted off the mattress and he shot his third load of the night within seconds, moaning in ecstasy.

He cleaned himself up and slept. Miss Christy's perfect pussy was the last thing he thought of as sleep took him away for the night.

*

21

Marcus woke up for work the following morning. When he turned his phone back on again, he noticed an unread message from Miss Christy had arrived overnight.

'Did you like the pic I sent you babe? xx'

Marcus remembered last night. He remembered going to the movies with Miss Christy and having sex with her in the back row of the cinema. He remembered being so horny on the bus ride home that he couldn't help masturbating. And he remembered, just as he was about to turn off his light for the night, that Miss Christy had texted him an image of her wide open cunt.