"This is the continuation of the first part of Therapy, where Philip, in session with Stella, reveals in secret fantasizing about other women except his girlfriend, and Stella was one of them.
Certain elements of his confessions even leads Stella to question her own memories.
Her unexpected reaction, drives them both all closer to the unthinkable.
Furthermore, it awakens Stella's curiosity about her role in his fantasies.
She wants to know more, all of it."
* * *
The air was dense and Philip could hardly breath. Or was it because how close she was standing, leaning over him, her breath against him, her soft voice, his hand....
This wasn't the Stella he knew, or thought he knew. She was his counselor, and this was completely unthinkable. Wildly Inappropriate. Forbidden.
Not that he hadn't been fantasizing about it, about her. He had even confessed to her. Was that why she had become all turned on like this? Was she actually going to do it? Was he? This was dangerously close to a line he had never crossed. The choice, if there even was a choice, was tormenting him. Was he going to give in to his urges? Just let him self go and fuck her, fuck her hard, fill her with all of him, fuck Her brains out. A huge part of him really wanted that, even though it meant cheating on his girlfriend. Did she have to know?
Would he be able to keep such a secret?
"Who would you tell?" Stella's breath was warm, she was so close to him now that her lips almost touched his neck, so close he could feel her scent, her warm, womanly scent. He couldn't make out if she was wearing any perfume, her smell was so natural, it fitted her perfectly.
"Would you tell your girlfriend?" She was almost whispering now.
This was certainly a side of her he hadn't seen before. Her strict professionalism, where did she keep it when she didn't need it?
"Will you tell her about touching my pussy today?"
She whispered, letting her lips touch his ear.
Philip got most abruptly reminded of his hand under her skirt, her warm panties, wet all through the thin layer of fabric, the only barrier between his hand and her bare pussy. For a split second he was thinking of retracting his arm, pulling his hand out of there, being mature enough to resist the urge to slip a finger inside, two maybe.
He imagined her moaning right against his ear, with his fingers going in and out of her.
Indeed Stella Was moaning, and he realized he had been moving his fingers.
She had been enjoying it, making it impossible for him to stop.
Suddenly she rose up. She put her hand against his thigh to help herself up and softly let it slide over the aching bulge in his pants.
She looked at him with a lecturing grin, and tick-tacked her finger at him as her grin turned into a playful smile.
She stepped back and sat herself down on a couch at the other end of the room, and put one leg over the other. Philip watched her. His raging boner really ached and pounded in his trousers now. Was she calling it off? Perhaps this was for the best. It was the mature thing to do. To control themselves, not giving in to their urges. He faked massaging his cheek bones and the back of his nose, in secret to sense the smell of her on his fingers. Her scent was clearly noticeable. He enjoyed it, it aroused him even further, the smell of her pussy.
He saw that she was observing him, and he realized that he had been caught in the act. It embarrassed him. Did he really think he was going to get away with it? That she wouldn't notice? She was a grownup woman, of course she was going to see. She knew all about men's fascination with the smell of pussy, her pussy. She didn't mind it at all, in fact, she liked it when a man enjoyed her scent, and the way that Philip naively had tried to do it in secret had been cute.
"Is it as you imagined?" Her interruption made him wince. He knew what she was asking him. She wanted to hear him say it, how much he enjoyed the smell of her.
"I love it." he said, inhaling the scent again, more obvious this time.
"I love the smell of your..." he paused.
"My?" Indeed she wanted to hear him say it.
"I love the smell of your pussy, Stella." He looked directly at her as he said it, and his words had gone straight in between her legs and up through her stomach.
She resisted the urge to throw herself at him, pressing herself against his mouth, to sit on top of him, grind and pleasure herself against his eager lips and tongue, making him eat her.
"Tell me about your fantasies." she said, as she leaned against the backrest.
"What do you want to know?" he couldn't keep his eyes from the edge of her skirt as it had now slid up over her thighs.
"Everything." she said.
Philip had to think. Was there an "everything" to it, really? His fantasies mostly consisted of loose fragments, horny pieces of wet, throbbing, close up imagery of her wide open pussy, his tongue swirling inside of her, her mouth around his cock, his cock pounding her... holes.
"Well?" she urged him.
"I have often been fantasizing about-" he started.
"No, no, no." she corrected him. "Tell me your fantasies. Tell me what's in them."
She gave him a couple of seconds before she continued.
"I already know you have fantasies about me, now walk me through them."
"Tell me what you fantasize about doing to me."
He tried to imagine her in front of him.
"I..." he started. "You are lying before me." he closed his eyes. "I spread your legs apart..."
"You have panties on, they are all wet from excitement."
