My Therapist My Love

I started going to therapy when our two kids were getting to be teenagers and I was having trouble with them. I also had a huge mid-life crisis when I hit 40. I got a referral from my family physician to a good therapist. His name was Larry. You get very close to a therapist or counselor, it's really fun and fascinating to find out about yourself, although it can be difficult and painful at times. A good one can be a tremendous help though.

After going to see Larry for about six months, we were making very good progress, but I realized I was starting to have feelings for him. He was so handsome and perceptive, a younger man, with curly brown hair, blue intelligent, friendly eyes, and a slender, tall body.

I told him in one session that I was starting to feel for him and he said that's fairly normal and common but we won't act on those feelings. I left it at that, but continued to fantasize and think about him more and more.

I started to dress more enticingly for our weekly sessions. One day I deliberately wore a tight pink blouse, miniskirt and heels and left the top three buttons on my blouse open.

I could feel I was arousing him from my outfit, and during the session, left to go to the bathroom. I slipped off my panties in the ladies room and came back in. When I came back, I gave him a discreet but clear view of between my legs as I sat back down in the chair. He didn't mention it, but I could see his erection in his khaki pants.

I started to hug him goodbye when we left, and our hugs began to get longer. One day I kissed him. I kissed him more passionately the next week and when I came back the following week he said we need to talk about something.

He mentioned my sexual behavior toward him and he said it would have to stop or he would have to end our therapy sessions and refer me to another therapist. I started to cry and told him everything, how I thought about him so often, and frequently fantasized about him, how upset I would be if our sessions were to stop, and how I wanted to be with him.

He finally admitted he felt the same way but was strictly prohibited as a professional from acting on those feelings. He thought it would be best, given the way we both felt about each other, that he refer me to another therapist immediately.

He referred me to a much older, not very attractive man, and he gave him all the details about my case. While my new therapist is professional and also very helpful, I missed Larry so much!

I waited a few weeks after I changed therapists, and finally got up the nerve to call Larry. I simply couldn't help myself. I called him one afternoon when my husband was out of town on a business trip. He often traveled for business and I was missing Larry more and more.

Larry said he didn't see patients socially, but I pointed out that I was not a patient any longer. I asked him please just let me take him to lunch as a way of thanking for helping me so much.

He reluctantly agreed to have lunch with me, and I decided to pull out all the stops. I dressed very attractively, had my hair and nails done, and we went to an elegant new restaurant downtown. We had some wine with lunch, and I could tell he was finally starting to relax and act a little less serious. I knew he was divorced, but didn't dare ask much more about his personal life.

I don't know where I got the nerve, but I took his hand after dessert and coffee and said, "Larry, come home with me."

He blushed and simply said O.K.

We got into our separate cars and told him how to get to my house, I didn't live that far away. When we got to my place, no one else was home, the kids were busy with their after school activities, and my husband was out of town. I got us some brandy and then started to kiss him very gently. He finally reciprocated. His kiss was warm and loving and everything I dreamed it would be. I stood up, looked deeply into his eyes, and then took his hand and led him up to the bedroom. I could sense his arousal, though he was very quiet.

When we got to the bedroom, I put on some soft music and he laid down on the bed. I slowly took off my things, without a word. He took a sharp intake of breath when I was completely naked before him. Finally I was completely exposed in front of him, the man that knew me better and more intimately than perhaps anyone else on earth. It was a profoundly erotic and powerful moment.

I went over to him, kissed him again, more urgently this time, and we began to touch. He touched me tenderly, yet with a passionate intensity. He took off his clothes and I started to suck him eagerly. He had a large, long, beautiful cock. God, I had waited so long for this moment!

After I had sucked him deeply and passionately for a long time, I laid down on the bed next to him. He looked at me lovingly and then delicately touched my breasts. He slowly touched between my legs. I was very wet and ready for him. Then he gently got on top of me, and started to enter me. I was open, yet his cock was so large it hurt a little at first, but soon my body accommodated him and we had an emotional, passionate encounter. It lasted a long, very pleasurable time. He started slowly and built up to a shattering intensity. We both had intense orgasms, one right after the other. Afterwards we fell into a deep, restful sleep together, holding each other closely.

He left soon afterwards, I could tell he was starting to feel guilty. I kept thinking of him though, despite my efforts not to, and called him again a few weeks later.

It would always be the same way. He would come to my house when no one was around. We would have a drink or scotch, talk a bit, and then make the most wonderful, pleasurable love imaginable, and then he would leave soon afterwards. I never told a soul about him. My husband would be furious if he found out, and I knew one day I would have to break it off.

It went on for a surprisingly long time, every few weeks he would come over. He knew me so well, we could talk so easily. He asked about how my progress with my new therapist was going. I said well, and admitted I hadn't mentioned our relationship. I knew we would both get in big trouble if anyone found out. Our lovemaking was so pleasurable and intense, and we really cared about each other. I tried not to feel too terrible about it, after all, I'm not the first wife to stray.

One week, after many months of this, he didn't return my calls. I knew it was over, and cried for awhile. I felt so alone, I couldn't tell anyone, and that hurt so much. I knew it was for the best though, and resolved to try to move on as best I could.

I finally got over it, if you ever can get over these things. Though I still think about him often, it's been a few years now. I seem to be doing fine and haven't seen anyone else.

A few months ago, he was giving a talk at a local college. I signed up to go, and went to hear him speak. He was still so handsome, a wonderful speaker. Apparently his career was doing quite well. I didn't speak to him, I was afraid to stir up those old feelings I had tried so hard to bury. I keep track of his career though, he is doing very well and has a book coming out soon. Our time together will always be some of the sweetest, most poignant and erotic days of my life.