Therapy: Second Session

Therapy: Second Session

by Miles Naismith

Despite my feeling that writing this narrative wasn't helping me to resolve my mental conflicts, Sydney insists that I have not given it a fair chance. At her urging, nagging really, I have again picked up my figurative pen to continue my story.

After the morning blowjob at the Jefferson, I kissed Koji thoroughly. If I had to taste that stuff, then so should he. I threw on a robe while he peed.

When he came out, I had opened the curtains, and was looking at the view out over the city. He walked over behind me, and grabbed my breasts.

After tweaking my nipples a couple of times, he pulled open the robe, flashing my naked body in front of the window. I tried to pull the robe back together, but he pulled it down and off before I could get a good hold on it.

I snapped, "Stop it."

He just turned me and pushed me over the chair he used to spank me the night before. His erection was slick with something used as a lube as he pushed, ending up cradled between my nether lips like a hot dog in a bun.

As he maneuvered for better position, I bent further, reached under the chair back, and squeezed his balls moderately hard.

"Shit, that hurts," he said, as he jumped back out of range. "Why'd you do that?"

"Why did you try to rape me?"

"What rape? I was just trying please my wife. Weren't you trying to tell me last night that you wanted to be taken, not asked."

As I looked at him, I saw, over his shoulder, movement in one of the windows of the wing of the hotel that jutted out on my right. I realized we were standing nude, in broad daylight, putting on a show for anyone who cared to look. I ran into the bathroom.

"Aw c'mon, Pele, don't run off. I'm sorry." Pele is the Hawaiian goddess of fire and volcanoes. A mean bitch. He calls me that when he thinks I am unjustly angry with him.

"Don't Pele me. I didn't run off. Unlike you, Mr. Porn Star, I don't get off on flaunting my white bits to the other guests, much less the kind of show you had in mind. I'll come out after you throw me the robe."

He did, and then went to the niche that serves as a closet in hotels, and found the other robe the hotel supplied. It hit his thighs about where my skirt hit mine last night. I giggled.

"Hey toots," I said to him, "Any shorter and your pride and joy would be hanging out like my ass was last night."

He looked down and grinned sheepishly.

He sat down with me at the little table.

"You okay, Pua?" Now I was his flower.

"Yes, sweet Kojidai. Last night was a special occasion. I don't want that as a steady diet. I want you to keep being the kind and gentle man I married. But who knows, maybe someday I'll want Rhett back again. Now tell me, how did you pull it off? I never saw you pull your camera out during the party."

"No need, Pua. I had the names, numbers and pictures within five minutes of my arrival. Before you got there."

"How did you do that. I mean, I know you are a big handsome guy, and charming when you try, but you're not that good. Hell, Casanova is not that good. Mass hypnosis, maybe?"

"Simpler than that. The three of them were in a little group, talking, and I just walked up and asked for their help. I let them read the letter, and they all giggled and signed on. They thought your idea was sexy and cute. Mary said she wished her husband would just take her sometimes, and that maybe she would steal your idea."

"And I'll bet she was twirling her hair and pushing her chest out at you when she said it. She wanted you, stud."

He blushed and said, "No way. She was married. She just wanted to help me win your little challenge."

"I'm glad you're so oblivious sometimes, Sweetie. All you needed to do was crook your finger at her, and she'd have raced you to the bed."

"Well, I don't think so. But we know who would have been happy to carry you off in my place, don't we? And I sure wouldn't call you Ho'opono when he had his hands on your ass..."

"I don't know Ho'opono."

"Means 'Faithful', Pua, although you did match one syllable."

"I am only your Ho, Pono," I said demurely.

"Oh, I no pono, Sistah. I no righteous kane. A righteous man, who had his Rhett Butler card punched before you even arrived, would have given you the sign much sooner. As a backslider, I thought it was hoot, watching you toy with those other guys."

"And the flirting and slow dances with those babes you were with had nothing to do with taking your time?"

"Absolutely. I just thought I'd let you have a little fun before I ravaged you."

"Yeah, right. Did Neil really make a bet with you about getting in my pants?"

"Naw. He's a gentleman. He let me know in no uncertain terms that he wanted you, after I pointed you out and made some comment about you looking hot, but he wouldn't have made that bet. Don't open your phone messages in front of your friends without looking privately first."

Surprising myself, I felt let down. I was pleased my husband had not sent my nude picture off to a stranger, especially without my permission, but I was also disappointed. Since it was suitably anonymous, it couldn't have been traced back to me, and besides, Neil didn't even know my name.

I had felt a little wicked, thinking that he had seen me naked, especially since I didn't have a say in it, at the time. And there would probably never be another confluence of circumstances to make it happen so perfectly again.

"Just so you know, husband mine, you cheated. You were supposed to show me some moves to get those numbers and names."

"I didn't cheat. Your note was clear. You wanted to see moves, but the threshold contingency was getting the info. I just got the info first, then showed you my moves. You just commented on them."

"But the ladies knew you were harmless after reading the note, so you didn't have to work to chat them up. Getting the numbers would have been much harder if they thought you were on the prowl and you cheated."

He just grinned and said, "You made the rules. I followed them. Be more careful the next time."

"So you think there will be a next time?"

"God, I hope so. You were so sexy, and it was exciting as hell that you initiated it. I'll always want you, but damn it was fun to do something so different."

"Be a good little boy, Kojidai, and when you least expect it, maybe the good fairy will grant your wish. But not right now. I'm hungry. Let's get breakfast."

Koji took me shopping after breakfast. He had reserved the room for two nights, and I needed a second outfit, and some underwear.

It was a strange feeling, walking around in that short skirt with no panties until I could buy some. At least my outfit didn't scream "walk of shame."

We had a great day together, followed by a cozy dinner. Koji took me to some club the younger crowd in his office favored to dance, but we left after only a short while.

The kids there all had to be over 21, but they all looked as young as Mary had looked to me when she twirled her hair. And whatever they were playing didn't sound much like music to me.

I guess I am getting old. My Dad used to tell me that his generation reached the peak of music with the Beatles, the Stones, Dylan and the rest of the Sixties icons, and that the music I liked was just trying, less than successfully, to imitate his generation's.

I thought this was a sure sign of his senility approaching, since I just knew how cool my music was. But now, here I was, feeling the same about the songs in the club.

But my premature aging was arrested a little when one of the more handsome denizens of the club scene made a pass at me while Koji was buying us drinks. What he lacked in polish, he made up for in youth and prettiness.

"Grrrrrrrrrrr," said Mrs. Cougar.

That night, we were still feeling the erotic after effects of our adventure, and we were both restless. We talked, and settled on a game of chance. I would flip a coin, and he would call it in the air. If he was right, he got to pick a scene from a movie we had seen together for us to reenact, otherwise I got to pick.

Fortunately for the game, Koji, having come straight from work to the party the night before, had his notebook computer with him. He pulled it from the safe in the room, and tapped into the hotel network.

To be eligible, the movie scene had to be available to be seen on the internet. Each of us had ten minutes to find our scene. When we had each bookmarked our videos, we would play them for each other before I flipped the coin, so we would have time to think about what we were risking.

I was not worried about Koji's choice. We had never watched hardcore porn together, so the most bizarre and outré scenes were almost certainly excluded.

I was sure his would involve sex, but I was up for that. I was sure we had an unspoken understanding between us that no third party would be involved, and I knew he wasn't into anything resembling torture.

I had a quick flash of fear during his ten minutes when I remembered that we had seen Last Tango in Paris together, but he knew I refused anal, butter slicked or not.

But he was in for a surprise, when I won, as my feminine intuition assured me I would. I had found the clip of the scene from Exit to Eden where Paul Mercutio, as Dana Delany's slave, was forced to bathe, shave, and generally pamper her before she stood him up with outstretched arms bound to the ceiling, and spanked his butt. With a hairbrush.

Turnabout was fair play, wasn't it? The scene ended with Mercutio required to sleep on the floor beside Delany's bed. I hadn't decided whether I'd give in to my own desire, or teach him a lesson. The former, I guessed.

We played my clip first. Koji did not seem too upset, even when I teased him about having to go out to get some bubble bath to make the reenactment more precise.

I almost chickened out when I saw his clip.

"Had to choose some forgettable dog of a movie I had almost forgotten we'd seen to find a suitably perverse scene, eh? Well so did I," he sneered.

It was not Last Tango. It was worse. The movie itself was beyond awful, a doleful confirmation of Hollywood's First Commandment: No good sex shall go unpunished.

The movie was called Zebra Lounge, starring one of the lesser known Baldwin boys in a wife swap morphing into a murderous stalker bomb.

The scene he choose was the only sexy one in it, as long as one was only watching, not reenacting. In it, the Baldwin character strips the other guy's wife in front of a huge window that looks out over the city, then fucks her standing up, from behind, while pushing her bare breasts up against the window pane.

And fuck was the operative word. Affection, love, caring: nowhere to be seen.

A window that was qualitatively, if not quantitatively, just like the one in the movie loomed before me in our room. One which would attract the eye of other occupants of hotel rooms on the wing to the right, when no curtains shaded its interior lights. I quickly turned to look at those other windows, and in one I saw clearly a woman in her bra and panties, brushing her hair.

I saw the curtainless lit windows of several other rooms, though not their occupants. But I knew the occupants were there. And who knows who might be looking out from the dark ones. Maybe even Neil.

"What big eyes you have, Grandma. Not scared are you? What'll you offer for me to let you off the hook? A week of wake up blowjobs like the one this morning?"

I almost went for this offer. If I lost, it would probably take a week for my skin to go from fire engine red to my normal color, assuming I didn't actually die of embarrassment in the first instance.

My body is not bad, as evidenced by the attentions of the Tarleton twins and their mates at the party the night before, but the Playboy talent scouts would look right through me. Even for a Milfs of Virginia issue, assuming they have a milf issue.

I have enough mammary tissue to make a nice circle of moderate diameter if flattened against the window, but it still might take both of mine the fill one bra cup of some of those girly mag models.

I looked again. The bottom sill would come just below my crotch. I'd not only be flashing the girls, but kitty as well. Well, I thought, in for a penny, in for a pound.

This whole thing was supposed to get us - me - out of our comfort zone. To spice things up. I swallowed and said, with false bravado, "Why aren't you drawing my bath, big boy? Hand me that coin."

Score one for feminine intuition. I luxuriated in the bubble bath while Koji gently washed my body. My breasts and my mound must have been filthy, judging by the amount of time he spent on them.

As in the movie, I let him shave my legs. And, for the first time ever, my mons. I was bare as a prepubescent when he was done, and I could see he liked it. I hoped it wouldn't itch when it grew back in. If I let it grow in again...

After he had gently dried me, I put on the hotel robe, but kept him nude. There were no eyebolts in the ceiling of the hotel, so we had to make do. We used his rope to tie his hands to curtain rod brackets on each end of the picture window. He could have easily torn down those fixtures if he chose to. I'd just have to count on his cooperation for what was to come. So to speak, heh, heh.

When he was trussed up, I blindfolded him. I hoped he now felt helpless. I went to my purse for the small bottle of KY lube I had stashed there in preparation for this adventure. While I was pretty sure he wouldn't "take me" anally, I felt had I better be prepared, just in case.

I greased up his penis, and stroked him hard. I dropped the robe around its belt, and rubbed my bare bosom on his back, as in the movie, but reached around to stroke as the scene would have been played if not for Hollywood censorship.

When he was pulsing-with-each-heart-beat hard, I stepped back and slapped his butt. He jerked forward, but luckily restrained himself from pulling out the brackets. After the first one, he took its successors with hardly a flinch.

Even when I switched to the hairbrush. He must have even liked it, because he stayed hard. Of course, some judicious jacking between spanks might have had something to do with that.

Finally, I concentrated on giving him a glorious handjob. As I stroked him with my left hand, my right alternated between a reach around the other way to fondle his balls from behind and sliding up between his ass cheeks, lingering occasionally to circle his anus. That always caused a flinch.

I periodically replenished the KY on both hands, so as he showed the precursors of ejaculation, I was ready. As the first spurt of white shot out, my slippery finger pushed into his ass.

The next contraction shot cum out like a cannon as he tried to pull away from my finger. I really thought we were going to have pay to replace the brackets with that convulsion, but the hotel must have used the industrial strength model, because they held up. I sawed my finger in and out as he continued to spurt, and his cock stayed hard.

I knelt before him and took him in my mouth. He groaned with the sensation. He groaned again when I let his cock pop out.

I stood and untied one wrist. Then a devilish idea came to me. As he finished freeing his other hand, I opened the curtains. When he took off his blindfold, he looked shocked. Then he looked mad. He reached out and grabbed me as I began to draw the curtains closed. He spun my back to him, and then ripped the robe down and off my body.

I shouted, "No!" but he said to shut up and slapped my ass hard. Quickly he pushed me up against the window glass, and I felt his cock pushed between my ass cheeks.

I thought he was going to take my ass, but he squatted a little, and slid into my pussy in one stroke, still slicked by the KY. He put the palm of one hand against my back, pressing my chest against the window, while the other held my hip.

He pumped, and my chest slid up and down the window with each thrust and withdrawal. It was all too quick for me to get a good handle on it, but my body knew what to do. I came.

As I came down, he kept pumping. My thoughts became more organized, and I realized that I was living the scene he had picked, my nips and breasts making concentric circles on the glass for anyone who looked to see. I began to panic and tried to get away, but he held me there, and continued to thrust.

When I realized that I was on display whether I wanted to be or not, at least until he finished, I felt a thrill. Anyone could be watching from those other windows.

They would see my breasts. They would see my face grimace as Koji pumped. And I couldn't stop it.

And, after a minute, they saw my orgasm face, with a big "O" of a mouth as I squealed my release. I honestly couldn't tell you whether I wanted someone to have seen or not.

In a couple of more strokes, Koji came in me, and stepped back. I dropped to the floor in an effort to get out of the line of sight, below the sill, but he marched proudly nude to draw the curtain closed.

I looked up from my crouch, "I didn't open the curtain until both of your hands were untied. I just wanted to mess with your mind..."

"You succeeded. When I saw I had put on a sex show for all and sundry, I decided you could too. Looks like we both won that coin flip."

I felt like I should be angry, but I wasn't. I had kinda brought it on myself, and, truth be told, I was kinda glad. Maybe Neil would never see my picture, but who knew who had seen me tonight. I hadn't seen anyone looking, but then I was busy. I felt a shivery sense of shame, naughtiness, and excitement.

"Maybe so," I replied, "But I have my rings on. You are not free to share me while I'm wearing them, bozo."

"Yeah, well, I thought you had changed the rules by sharing me, without asking. And, I might add, while I was wearing mine."

"If you had rushed into the bathroom like I expected, I would have told and had my little laugh at your expense. Guess the joke was on me, this time."

"Forgiven?" he asked.

"Yes suh, Massah suh. Please don' punish yo' girlie no mo', Massah."

He laughed and pointed at his growing erection. "Service me, slave."

"In your dreams, Kojidai. My jaw is still sore from this morning."

"Then I shall seek aid and comfort elsewhere." He turned the TV on, and soon had selected one of the pay-per-view porn channels.

"What are you doing?"

"Research, Pua. Offer that movie scene game again and you might be surprised..."

"Not if I don't watch," I said, turning my head away. But curiosity got the better of me, and soon I was watching a group of "wives" swapping husbands.

The dialog that established that much represented the end of plot and character development. From there on, it was just sex. I learned a couple of things, but mostly the closeups that were all too common were not that erotic. I liked it better when I could see faces, artificial grimaces and all.

I was idly sliding my hand up and down Koji's penis when one of the men left his partner and tapped another guy on the shoulder, like he was cutting in on the dance floor. I guess he was.

The first walked away, and the new guy stepped between the girl's legs. The guy who left walked to a couple where the woman was riding cowboy, pushed her shoulders down, and stuck his penis in her ass, without so much as a by your leave.

I was strangely excited, watching this. I didn't really want two men, did I, and I damn sure didn't want someone to cram his cock in my rear, but the casual use of the women by the men was exciting, somehow.

When Koji reached down to grab my hand, I realized I had been squeezing him hard. Poor guy. Well, maybe I'd sooth him in the morning the way I did earlier today. But I needed sleep.

Before I drifted off, I decided I would deliver myself into his hands again, at least temporarily, the next time we had a couple of days to ourselves. I decided that I got off on the idea of giving another control, but I was pretty sure he did not.