Note: none of this story is real except the fact that I am a therapist and these situations easily could occur. These are the things I try to keep out of my mind when I work with my clients.
Fawn wanted to have an appointment with me and I was nervous about it. More specifically I was nervous about her breasts. I had worked with her a couple times at the college-counseling center when I was doing academic/emotional advising. I knew there was a lot of emotional turbulence, her boyfriend had tried killing himself and she was the one to find him, but she did not want to talk about it. She told me rather bluntly that she did not want to open up and then have to try to go to a class when she was upset and when she was feeling good she did not want to come to my office and ruin her mood. None the less I always made it a point to check in with her when I would see her on the quad and just reassure her that I had not forgotten about her and that I still cared when we talked about more mundane things like class selection and finding internships.
So I should have been happy when Fawn wanted to meet with me in my private practice office. Now that I had stopped working for Powell University there was no conflict of interest in me seeing former students as clients and a number of the students on my caseload had been talking about making visits. The tiny office I rented from another therapist was close to campus and I charged less than the average therapist, especially for people I already knew. Fawn in particular was a case that I had always felt I should have done more for. I knew she was hurting, I knew she needed to talk but I needed to respect that people have to decide for themselves when they are ready. Now it sounded like she was, but was I? Fawn would be a challenge no matter what, she had a sarcastic edge to her and was always fencing with me verbally, but behind that there was a definite electric charge of instability, always making me wonder what this girl was capable of. But that was not what scared me, it was those breasts that had the gravitational pull of a black hole.
I should describe Fawn. She is about 5'10" I would guess about 120 pounds of athletic volleyball player body. Long brown hair with blond highlights. Her eyes are a gray-green that can shift colors depending on her environment (I like to think depending on her mood).
Her face is pleasant but not gorgeous, she has a large wide mouth with perfectly straight teeth (thanks to several years of braces) and her features fit her but you can tell that when she was younger it took her time to grow into them. Fawn is a classic case of the girl who was not attractive in middle school who blossomed and now she was happy to show off her attributes. Fawn did not dress like a slut but she was fond of form revealing tops with spaghetti straps that would put her ample cleavage on display. Since I have never shopped for a bra I can only estimate at cup size but she was somewhere between a large C and a D cup. Her breasts (I never think of hers as tits, that seems, in her case some how disrespectful to these glorious orbs) were that perfect size where you knew they were real because they were large but not obnoxious large, the skin of her chest had no blemishes or markings of any sort, not even a freckle.
When she was in my office, when I saw her in the hallways of the building or on the quad I had to force myself to focus "LOOK IN HER EYES OR LOOK AT THE WALL." My brain would scream at me. But I know my eyes dipped. They had to. I mean millions of years of evolution could not be undone by force of will alone. I was programmed to be attracted to these things but, as I always told myself that did not mean that I had to touch them, or even think about it!
If Fawn new that I was checking her out (involuntarily), that her breasts were burning their way onto my memory, that the shape of her ass was something I could described in perfect detail to a police sketch artist who was deaf, in the dark, and I would be sure to be 100% accurate, she gave no indication of it. I would guess she was used to it. If she knew that her face and her body would flicker through my mind as I made love to my wife or as I pleasured myself, maybe that would not have bothered her. She was flirtatious by nature, and I think many girls like having this impact on men.
I should note that I am not a breast man in general. I love a tight full ass. My wife (Lisa) is the total opposite of Fawn. She is a tiny, dark skinned, Filipino and her tits, are probably smaller than mine. She has long dark nipples and I love fucking my Lisa doggy style except for the constant tease of wanting to shove my cock up her ass, but that is a story for another time. Normally Lisa is more my type, but we all hunger for variety don't we?
So now I had Fawn and I had e-mailed back and forth and she was coming to my office on Tuesday night at 7 PM. Giacomo, the therapist who I rented space from and who had the adjoining office, might be there or he might not. I had to have all of my private practice clients in the evening as I had found another day job at a different school doing nothing but the emotional counseling I found to be me more interesting. If Giacomo was not there it would be just the four of us in that office. Fawn, me, and her fabulous breasts.
When Tuesday night came I got to the office a little early. It seemed like Giacomo was still in his office next door but he might be finishing up with his last client of the night.
When Fawn arrived and sat Indian style on the black leather couch I knew I was going to have my work cut out for me. She was wearing a tight fitting white tank top which exposed her soft flat belly. While she was an athlete she was not hard and cut as much as she had the soft curves of a woman, a very fit woman, Her little boy shorts exposed her long legs that ended in flip flops. It was a warm September evening and while she had dressed appropriately for the outside I knew she would soon be cold in the air conditioned office. Her hair was pulled up and her long white neck was exposed.
I have a thing for the clavicle. I think it is the most underrated part of the female anatomy. When a shapely neck comes down revealing the contours of the clavicle it drives me crazy. Claire Forlani in Meet Joe Black gives the perfect example. Fawn's clavicles shoulders and arms all exposed her tan skin which revealed a summer spent in the sun at the beach no doubt. And as the I shuffled through my intake forms the nanosecond it took for my eyes to cover the distance between her throat and the tight pressed line of her cleavage seemed like an hour.
Then for just a second between returning the smile I saw at her mouth and searching in my bag for my stapler I gave in and for probably three tenths of a second I let myself look at her breasts. "You dirty fucking pig" I thought to myself, and then I thought "it was worth it" I hope she doesn't think I'm a creep but with those things in front of her she is probably used to I, besides she probably did not even notice.
We exchanged small talk, and we began my series of questions "How has your sleep been, how has your appetite been..." all the usual stuff. Her hands flitted around and I watched their motion. He left hand lazily scratched her inner thigh, near the inside edge of her shorts. My mind got away from me as my eyes followed her finger. "man she must shave down there or trim really well, these shorts don't cover a lot. DAMN IT, FOCUS!" But it was too late an erection started growing under my khaki's. I crossed my leg and made sure my clip board obscured my swollen lap as I continued to write.
When I looked up I noticed that the air conditioning had done its work and goose flesh covered her body. Her hands rubbed over her arms to warm them and her forearms brushed past her hard nipples that were poking through her bra. Again if she noticed this she made no mention of it.
My cock grew painfully hard.
We concluded the educational history, the drug and alcohol use and abuse history and I swallowed hard as it came time for the sexual history. "age of your first sexual contact?"
"What does that mean"
"Well what does it mean to you?"
"that is such a therapist question."
"Yep"
"Well I mean do you want to know when I sucked my first dick or got fucked, or when I started playing with myself...?"
"The purpose of the question is to find out if you were sexually abused or sexualized too early, if someone touched you inappropriately, if an older person took advantage of you..."
