Filling Heathers Slot

"So, Heather, what would you like to talk about today?" Mr. Northam asked, folding his hands in front of him and leveling his best 'I'm here to listen' gaze upon her.

This was Heather's first session with a therapist. She'd heard others talk about how well it had worked for them, and that along with the fact that her health insurance completely covered these sessions was enough for her to give it a try.

Mr. Northam was a good-looking man probably in his early fifties. His eyes were a gentle blue and his face was etched with lines of wisdom, but his build under his suit spoke of an active lifestyle. He stared patiently at Heather, somehow appearing only attentive rather than patronizing. Her auburn hair cascaded down over her shoulders and she met his gaze with her own steel-gray eyes. She, all of 22, was decidedly walking a thin line when it came to her chosen outfit: her crisp, white button-down shirt wasn't buttoned all the way up, revealing a bounty of cleavage that clearly didn't need that much help from the bra that was peaking through. Her pleated red-flannel skirt might have been considered "professional" if it were three-to-six inches longer, but only in the most carefree of office spaces.

Mr. Northam didn't quite approve, but his professional training required he overlook it, at least for now. It wasn't his place to judge.

"We have patient confidentiality, right?" Heather asked.

Mr. Northam nodded reassuringly, "As your licensed therapist, anything you say to me in these sessions is strictly confidential. I won't be relaying any information to your family, and unless you expressed intent to commit some kind of violent crime, I can't speak to the police, either. This is a judgment-free space. I want you to feel comfortable telling me anything."

Heather nodded her understanding and took a breath. "Well, I just feel like... I need more, I guess. More in my life."

"I see. Do you think you're bored? Perhaps you're stuck in a routine?" Mr. Northam offered.

"No, I'm not bored. I love my routine. I just want... more, somehow. I feel unfulfilled."

Mr. Northam made a thoughtful face, and then said, "Why don't you tell me about your routine."

"My whole routine?" Heather asked.

"Only what you think is relevant," Mr. Northam replied.

"And I can be completely honest?" Heather asked once more.

Mr. Northam wasn't sure what he was about to get into, but how controversial could someone's daily routine really be? "Please do," he smiled warmly.

Heather seemed to think carefully for a moment and then finally make a decision. "Ok, well, um... So every day starts out the same. I get up around 7 when I hear my step-brother come back from the gym. He says he gets the hardest after a workout, and that makes for better deep-throat practice."

Mr. Northam's demeanor faltered. "I'm sorry, I, ah... I think I misheard you."

"I give my step-brother a blowjob after his shower every morning," Heather confirmed. "I can now take him all the way down my throat and hold him there for several seconds."

Mr. Northam could feel his face flush. "I see..." he said, slowly. "And how did you come by this arrangement?"

"Oh, we just kinda fell into it. I'd always been curious about boys, but when my mom married John and he and Mark moved in, my curiosity skyrocketed. After five years, we just couldn't help it anymore. But I never let him cum down my throat, because of Mrs. Langford."

"Mrs..." Mr. Northam faltered, trying to remain professional. "Because what? Who is Mrs. Langford?"

"She's my neighbor. She likes cum almost more than I do, so I take Mark's over to her house and let her lick it off me before we scissor."

"Jesus Christ," Mr. Northam said, crossing his legs and shifting in his chair, nervously chuckling. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"

"What, that she likes cum, or that we scissor?"

Mr. Northam couldn't come up with an answer, so he asked another question. "You're not messing with me?"

Heather shook her head matter-of-factly. "Mark has the most cum of anyone I know, so when he cums he fills my whole mouth and it inevitably spills down my chin and onto my tits. That's why I don't bother putting a shirt on in the mornings, and unless it's super cold, there's not really much point in wearing anything at all, so I just run over next door as quick as I can so I don't drip any off of me. Lately Mrs. Langford has been wanting to suck his cum from my mouth, so I've been trying to hold as much of it in without swallowing the whole way."

"So you're just..." Mr. Northam said, his eyes unfocused as he imagined it, "You're just running between the houses, naked, and covered in sperm?"

"Oh, no, not between them. The fence is too high. I just run around front. The other neighbors don't seem to mind, or at least they haven't said anything."

Mr. Northam clenched and unclenched his jaw. "And Mr. Langford..."

"Oh, he's usually gone off to work by 7:30, unless it's a weekend. On those days he mostly just watches us, but sometimes I blow him too."

"And, these sexual encounters with your neighbor are... daily?" Mr. Northam asked.

Heather nodded. "They're really great. They have these awesome parties sometimes where I get to be a serving platter for their guests."

"Ah. Right."

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you know what that means?" Heather asked when she noticed her therapist seemed a little confused.

"Do I want to know?" He asked.

"It means I lie on a table, counter, or sometimes just the floor, covered only in hors d'oeuvres. Afterward I can go around and sit on laps and get touched if I want."

Mr. Northam bit his lip, processing this information. Then he prompted, "Let's get back to your daily routine. So you... finish... with your neighbor, and then..."

"Then I go to work."

"Ah. And where do you work?"

"Portman Lewis and Portman. It's a law firm. My boss is a partner, the second Portman, really stressful stuff." Heather cocked her head and smiled in a 'you know how those lawyers are' sort of way.

"Do you like your job?" Mr. Northam asked.

Heather thought for a moment. "I like certain parts of it. Most of it is pretty boring though."

"Like what?"

"The boring parts? Oh, like getting coffee, making copies, mailing, scheduling, rolling calls. That kind of stuff." Heather shrugged.

"That sounds like regular assistant work. What are the parts you like?" asked Mr. Northam.

"Oh, well after I bring my boss his coffee, I bend over his desk so he can shove his cock in me. He's usually on some important call with judges or lawyers or whoever so I have to be quiet. He puts it on mute eventually though and lets me scream a little. It's kinda embarrassing as the whole floor can hear me, but I guess that also kinda turns me on too."

Mr. Northam cleared his throat. "Heather, if your boss is forcing you to give him sexual favors in exchange for-"

"Oh, no," Heather clarified. "It's nothing like that! Like I said, it's a stressful job. When I first started, Mr. Portman was so depressed and anxious. One morning I brought him his coffee and he just looked so defeated, so I just bent over his desk and lifted my skirt. Well, it was more nuanced than that, of course, I had to be a little more seductive, but effectively yeah, it was my idea that he start fucking me. After just nine months, he's become one of the winningest attorneys in town."

"I see," was all Mr. Northam could think to say. He was more focused on controlling his regrettably growing erection. It was so unprofessional.

"After that is when I usually have to go make copies, which like I said, is so boring, so while I'm waiting I let some of the guys from the bullpen take turns titty-fucking me against the side of the copier. It's nice and warm. Mr Portman told them "you can only fuck her pretty little mouth (he really said that! Called it my 'pretty little mouth') if your filing is done", which I think was really smart because it ensures the filing never falls behind and it means I basically never have filing to do myself, freeing me up to help Mr. Portman more.

"One time, though, Shane did bend me over the machine and it made 40 copies of my tits while he fucked my thighs. I hear one of the copies is still hanging up in the men's room. It's so embarrassing!" Heather giggled, and the effect reverberated inside her bra. "But none of them are high enough in rank though, so I'm not supposed to let them do much else. That way I'm ready for Mr. Portman's afternoon cock-warming."

"C-cock... warming?" Mr. Northam asked.

"Yeah!" Heather said brightly, smiling at the memories. "I sit under Mr. Portman's desk while he takes in-person meetings with clients. They don't know I'm down there, as I'm not doing a lot. I just have to hold Mr. Portman's hard cock in my mouth for a couple hours. It keeps him hard the whole time, which means he's better with the clients. When he's ready he'll pat me on the cheek and then I only have to throat him a couple of times and he cums right away.

"After, though, I'm so fucking horny. I've had cocks on and in me everywhere except for where I want it, which is absolutely on fire by that point. It'll have been like five or six hours since Mr. Portman last fucked me. And this is where my problem starts."

Mr. Northam sighed, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. He shook his head, apparently trying to clear his thoughts. "Okay, so... So you're all... worked up after your day in the office. How do you unwind? What's the last part of your day like?"

"Oh, it varies. Sometimes dinner with friends. It's great because we usually go to the same handful of restaurants, and there's several servers and even a cook who all comp my whole bill every time, all I have to do is meet them in the alley afterward. But that's like, 8 or 9 o'clock, and it's mostly about the check. However, since my mom died a few years ago John's been sad, so I always come back home to him. He says I remind him of her so much. I let him call me by her name when he fucks me, and he's the only one I let fuck my ass. It's really sweet because after an hour or so we both start to get tired and just spoon-fuck until he falls asleep, still inside me. I can't really fall asleep now without it. Both of us are pretty solid sleepers, and with as big as his dick is, it's not until I get out of bed in the morning that he pulls all the way out of me."

Mr. Northam uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, rubbing his face in his hands. "So let me get this straight: in the morning, you go straight from having your step-father's dick inside of your ass to having your step-brother's dick in your mouth in a span of about 30 seconds?"

Heather nodded. "Yeah, same thing every day. The cum dripping down my thighs can make for a slippery trip on the sidewalk to the Langford's sometimes, but I love it."

Mr. Northam reminded himself it was not his place to judge. "Ok, so it sounds like you're pretty fulfilled, you certainly have more sex on a daily basis than I've ever heard of. So what brings you here to me?"

"Well, like I said," Heather stood, licking her lips, "I'm all worked up after the office and won't get any dick for at least two more hours. I have dinner at seven, but a time slot between then and six..."

Mr. Northam looked up from his hands. As Heather advanced towards him, fingers unfastening buttons, he could see the clock read 6:15.

"Are you busy then?" Heather asked, plopping down in his lap, straddling him.