The Therapist's Journey

I woke up early Wednesday. Inspired by my son's compliments, I had decided to go to the gym before work. I was about to put on some baggy shorts and a loose tee shirt when I heard him in the kitchen. He was not usually up this early, but the night before he had mentioned some tightness in his shoulder and that he might go the health club before school to use it's whirlpool.

I guess a word of explanation is required. I have two health club memberships. There is a family membership at one of those big suburban clubs, which is closer to a country club than a gym. It was about a twenty-five minutes from the house. About a year ago, tired of both the drive and the men constantly hitting on me, I also joined Roxey's, a women only facility. It was five minutes from the house and a straight-out gym. No juice bars, no boutiques, just a place to work-out. At first I was not at all sure it was an improvement. The place was known as a lesbian hang out and they were even more brazen about propositioning me then the men at the old place. However the girls were good natured -- no one seemed to get their feelings hurt -- and quickly understood I played for the other team. When a few of them noticed my picture in the newspaper's society column, I became something of a mascot.

When I heard my son in the kitchen I decided to dress-up and continue last night's show. I put away the shorts and tee shirt and slipped on a form hugging red tee and black leggings. When I entered the kitchen he was preparing oatmeal with fresh fruit. I poured myself a cup of coffee.

"Looking good, Mom."

He was getting fairly free about commenting on my appearance. Of course, I was getting fairly free about exhibiting myself.

"I'm going to Roxey's."

"Well, I'm sure the ladies will enjoy the view."

"They're always nice to me there."

"Bet they are. You got time for breakfast."

I said I did and he doled out the food. We briefly related our day's plans. He had a swim practice after school and would be home around 7:00. P.M. I figured I would be done with Theresa about 5:00 and would be home by 5:30. Feeling expansive, I told him I would prepare his favorite meal that evening: steak, potatoes, and okra.

When we got up to leave he opened the door for me, "Ladies first, and it's not just to look at that terrific butt." I stuck my tongue out at him. He opened my car door for me, leaned down, and kissed me good-bye.

At Roxey's my outfit did elicit a few cat-calls. I found myself enjoying the attentions I might have to dress up more often. A few renewed their offers to introduce me to the wild side. I assured them I was still not interested, but if I changed my mind they'd be my first choice. That earned another set of cat-calls. I took a second look; some of these ladies were kinda cute.

I returned home to shower and dress. I wanted to look snazzy for my last session with Theresa and chose a crisp white blouse with a spread collar, mother of pearl buttons, and three-quarter sleeves. The embroidered skirt fell to my knees. I put on a pair of suede boots with a three inch kitten heels and a pointed toe. The boots came to within a few inches of my knees.

The day went well and I found myself increasingly excited about seeing Theresa. However, when I checked my iPhone during the break before her session I was puzzled to find a message from Theresa asking only that I confirm receipt. Upon doing so I received an immediate reply. Theresa indicated that she would call the office to cancel her appointment, that I should tell the staff to charge her the cancellation fee, send them home, and let her know when they left. While re-reading this strange message, my staff buzzed me. Theresa had cancelled.

I went to see what had happened. There had been a computer glitch while Theresa had been on-line with Stanford completing enrollment forms. Today was the deadline and she had to cancel. She had apologized profusely and said we should charge the cancellation fee.

I told the staff to charge her.

"But she's so nice and she has a good excuse. Can't you cut her a break, Dr. Barry. She's never cancelled before."

"She's only been here twice, not exactly a track record." When the looks on their faces told me I had convinced no one, I said, "Okay, I'll think about it. However, there's no reason for everyone to hang around. I'll see you tomorrow."

It took about five minutes for the office to clear-out. After the door closed I sent Theresa a text: "All clear."

I received an instantaneous reply: "Take off your bra and panties and wait for me."

I responded: "Are you nuts?"

"Don't think so. Please!"

I had hoped I would be professional in my last session with Theresa, but it was hopeless. The message was insane, but I knew I'd do it. With shaky fingers I texted her, "Okay," and unbuttoned my blouse and removed my bra. I sat down, took off my boots, and slipped my already wet panties down my legs. I put my boots and shirt back on. I re-fastened only a few of the buttons, exposing enough cleavage to barely keep the ladies inside my shirt. My dark, erect, nipples were clearly visible through the white fabric.

I sat in the outer office fighting the impulse to fondle myself. After five minutes Theresa, wearing elegant black heels and black stirrup pants that molded to her exquisite legs and perfect ass, knocked and entered. In one arm she had a jacket and in the other a gift-wrapped box she held to her chest. She smiled, put the jacket on the counter, and said, " I brought you a present, but no opening it until the end of our session."

She put the box down, exposing her chest for the first time. She was wearing a long sleeve white body suit without a bra. Her magnificent breasts and erect nipples were clearly visible. My mouth filled with saliva and we lunged into each other's arms. Our kisses were hard and desperate. Our tongues swirled back and forth. I explored her full soft lips and the deepest most obscure reaches of her mouth. While our bodies wrestled against each other, Theresa gradually pushed me against the door. Theresa then stepped away and stared at my breasts, which had fallen outside my shirt.

She cupped one in each hand, taking a moment to appreciate their size and weight. Her thumbs teased my hard nipples. She leaned over and kissed me on the neck, throat, and lips.

"Your breasts are so beautiful. I've wanted to do this since we first met."

Bending, she kissed and licked my breasts, leaving no spot unloved. She took one of the nipples in her mouth, lathering it with her tongue. Her teeth then gently caressed the areola while she sucked my nipple. She turned to my other breast, by then throbbing with need, and gave it the same treatment. Pleasure was radiating throughout my body. I loved watching this beautiful woman make love to my breasts. Then she looked up, I smiled, and face beaming, she gently pecked me on the lips. She motioned me to the floor.

There Theresa took off her shoes and leggings. I discarded my blouse. Theresa then knelt before me and slid the boots from my legs. Goose bumps ran up my back in response to her gentle touch. We helped each other up. I was wearing only my skirt, Theresa only her bodysuit. I reached to her wet crotch and unsnapped the bodysuit. I sank my finger into her; she was as wet as I. I removed my soaked finger and licked her juice off.

She gave me a pouty look. "You should share."

She was right; why was I being so selfish: there was more than enough to go around. I inserted a finger into her, withdrew it, and offered her the nectar. She took my finger in her mouth, cleaned it, and said, "I've tried it before. It tastes better when you serve it."

I pulled her face to mine and we shared a long kiss, taking turns exploring each other's mouths. I returned my finger to her groin and started pumping it inside her. When I realized she was trying to pull the bodysuit over her head, I stopped and gave her a hand. She was now naked before me. God, she was beautiful.

She moved closer, our bare breasts touching, our erect nipples caressing each other, and undid the latch of my skirt. It fell to the ground and puddled on the carpet; we were both naked. We locked the door and headed for the couch in my inner office.

Once there I pushed her down. I had noticed her lovely breasts when we first met. It was time we became better acquainted. I took each in a hand, kneading them, enjoying their gentle resilience. I rolled one upwards and brought my face to it's underside. There I began a long deliberate swipe with my tongue, moving towards the center of her chest, and them back across the nipple. She gasped. I repeated. I got the same reaction. She pushed the other breast towards my mouth.

"This one's jealous."

I was not going to refuse such a lovely offer. I immediately took the nipple in my mouth. There would be no teasing here. I licked it hard. Her hands let go of her breast and snaked around my head, pulling me tight against her.

After several minutes Theresa gently tugged my face from her breast, bringing it to her mouth. In the throes of arousal, our kisses were crazy with lust and passion. After ten minutes gnawing at each other, Theresa slid to the corner of the couch and beckoned me to sit between her legs, my back to her chest. I complied. I would, by then, have done anything she asked.

I leaned back into her arms, feeling her breasts against my back. Her left hand cupped one of my breasts; her right hand snaked down the front of my body to explore my sex. It was in no hurry. It roamed around my labia like a curious traveler, moving and then stopping, taking time to explore each turn, crevice, and bump. It occasionally dipped into my vagina, but never stayed long. It toyed with my clitoris, but although it got as close as pulling back the skin that covered it, it never directly manipulated my most sensitive button. Theresa was gauging my reactions, taking the time to understand what my body preferred and enjoyed. It was working: she had me squirming with need.

Finally, she pulled back the hood of my clitoris and with a thumb coated with my own vaginal dew, touched the exposed nub. While she did so she said, "Miles told me about the amazing blow-job you gave him. He says you're a talented cocksucker."

"Oh god," was all I could say, my body shuddering.

She continued to manipulate my clitoris, using my juice as lubricant.

"Have you sucked your son's cock yet? How does his dick compare to my son's? Whose is bigger? Whose is thicker? Whose tastes better?"

Her words were having almost as powerful an effect as her fingers.

"I love your tits. They're so beautiful. Your hands are beautiful too. Play with your tits. I want to watch your lovely hands play with your lovely tits."

I took my breasts in my hands, tenderly manipulating them. It felt good, adding to the inferno between my legs.

Her fingers entered me, twisting inside my snatch. "I've seen your boy's picture in the paper. He's beautiful, that long lean body in those tiny swim trunks. Do you suck him off on the way home from a meet? When you get home do you bother to get out of the car or do you fuck him in the garage? I bet after he fucks you he gets hard again before you get to the bed room. I bet he can fuck for hours, come, and still say hard."

I was humping into Theresa's hand, jamming my pelvis into her fist.

Her thumb returned to my clit. She stroked up and across it until, my breathing ragged, she slowed the motion, placing her thumb on top of my clit and holding it in place. After my breathing flattened out she repeated the process, heating me up again. I leaned my head back and kissed her, but as the pleasure racheted up notch by notch. I found I could not even concentrate enough to kiss. All I could do was wallow in the rapture between my legs. I heard Theresa's voice again, seemingly more distant than a few minutes before.

"I bet he loves fucking his pretty Mama."

Theresa's words echoed in my head. I started to babble: "I want him to fuck me, to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..." And then a powerful orgasm was upon me. I grabbed my breasts hard and briefly lost all sense of the world outside of my own pleasure. Then, while I was still trembling, but starting to drift down from this incredible high, Theresa scooped up some the flow pouring from my sex, and returned her attention to my clitoris. She pressed her wet fingers to my bud, setting off another orgasm. Thank god it was not an intense as the first one. Again, as I came down from this explosion she repeated her action, carrying me over the edge a third time. Then, as I sank into her arms again, she seemed to understand that I was spent. She gave me two of her wet fingers to suck, licked my cum off the other two, and said, "Enough?" Nodding my head and gasping for air, I was able to say, "Enough."

Theresa and I spent the next few minutes in a slow sensual kiss, each holding the other's head. I eventually just leaned into her body, feeling content with her arms wrapped around me. After awhile she asked, "You haven't fucked him yet?"

"No, but I do so want to."

* * * *

A few minutes later we were laying on our backs on the floor of my office, resting comfortably on the thick carpet. Theresa's head was near the couch. My head was on her thigh, my body angled away from hers. I realized that for the first time since I'd met her, I was sexually satiated. Not that I wouldn't be ready for some more soon, but for the moment I was fulfilled.

"Before you distract me again, I do have a professional advice for you and Miles."

"What is it Dr. Barry?"

"Do it as often as you can get away with it."

She laughed. "I'll do my best to follow your advice.

She continued. "I do have a confession to make. I told you that I choose you because you had been recommended to me and had a teenage son. Those were not all the reasons. I had seen your son's pictures in the newspaper. God, in those tiny swim trunks, he's beautiful. I figured that you, living with such a gorgeous young man, might be more empathetic to my situation. When I saw how my story aroused you, I knew that my own desires were, even if inappropriate, not a sign of burgeoning insanity."

"Was I that obvious?" I reached up to hold her hand,

"You know, we girls can tell."

A moment's pause and then. "Why aren't you bedding your boy?"

"We seem close." I related the events of the last few days.

When I finished Theresa said, "So why don't you just crawl into his bed at the end of the evening? He sounds ready to me."

"I'm scared Theresa. I've always been a good girl. I've played by the rules and it's paid off. I've always been proud of my discipline and self-control. All that seems to have deserted me. I make my mind up to do it by the book and ten minutes later I do the complete opposite. Think of all the rules I've broken with you and Miles. I never should have continued to see you after our first session, I've used recordings of our sessions to bring myself off, I've performed oral sex on your son. If anyone had suggested to me at 3:30 today that if I would end up naked on the floor with you by 5:00, I would have told them it was impossible. But here I am; it took only one look at you for my determination to crumble. "

Theresa honed in on the anxiety in my voice. She let go of my hand and stroked my hair and face, relaxing me. "Sweetie, don't be to hard on yourself. If you had acted, as you say, by the book with me, what would have happened?"

"On Monday I would have referred you to an expert in incest. He or she would probably have not been able to schedule you until next week or the week after. You would have spent the first few sessions discussing your relationship with your father." I stopped. "Okay, I see your point."

Theresa's hand fiddled with my hair. "Maybe you should trust your instincts."

I rolled over and pulled myself forward, holding up my head on my hands, elbows on the floor. My breasts pressed against her legs and the carpet.

I was looking right at her twat.

"I never noticed how pretty these things are." I craned my neck to get closer. "Smells good too." I planted a kiss on her vagina and used my tongue to collect a few drops of the liquid nestled in her pubic hairs. "Mighty tasty."

Theresa covered herself with hands. "I promised Miles exclusive use tonight."

"Lucky boy," I responded.

Returning, reluctantly, to the subject, I went on. "It's more than just my professional world. I like my life and it now seems clear I built it by tamping down my sexuality. Now it's all tumbling out of control. It's not that I can't have a lover on the side, half the society women in this city have one of those, or even that my lover can't be my own son. Assuming he co-operated it would be easy to keep that a secret. The real problem is that I'm afraid I won't stop there. I've evaluated my son's girlfriend as a potential lover and contemplated bringing his swim team home with me. I flirted with the girls at the gym this morning and I was more than half-serious. I've had sex with two clients. Yesterday, if your son had brought three guys off the street to fuck me, I would have happily volunteered. Once I cross the taboo with my son, I don't know whether or where I'll be able to stop.

"I'm thirty-seven; five days ago I had had only two lovers in my life. Now I've added two more. Both patients, whom I'm not supposed to touch, one a boy half my age and the other a woman. Hell, I didn't even know I was attracted to woman six days ago."

"If it makes you feel any better, neither did I."

I smiled. "I love Robert and I love my place in society. I love the good we can do. I'm a poor girl who made it big. I'm proud of myself and what I've achieved. I can keep all that with a lover; I cannot keep that if I try to take on my son's swim team or any random stranger who strikes my fancy. Word will get out."

"Well, if you can't deny or control your sexuality, who can?"

I don't know whether it was the comfort I took in Theresa's presence, or whether, for the first time in days, the buzz between my legs was not distracting me, or whether Theresa's questions led me to the answer, or some of these, or all of these, or something else, but the pieces suddenly fell into place.

Why had I assumed the issue between Theresa and her son was control when there was a far simpler explanation: her son was a teen-age boy trying to hide his fears and insecurities with a show of well-rehearsed bravado? How could I conclude that a woman as smart and savvy as Theresa had been dragged into a sexual relationship she did not want? How could I think that her son, who clearly adored her, would hurt her? If Theresa simply wanted some sex on the side, she could find it. I was the one turned-on by the idea of control. I was the one who listened to the recording and brought myself to orgasm when Miles asserted ownership of her.

I turned my mind to my ongoing tete-a-tete with my son and realized I had made a rookie mistake. I had projected my own desires onto Theresa and her son. Afraid of my own burgeoning sexuality, I wanted, needed, someone to take control. There was no one in the world whom I loved, trusted, and found as sexy as my son. I also knew I could rely on him.

I had concluded that Miles wanted to control Theresa because I was projecting onto him my longing for my son to take control of my sexuality. He would not only be a tireless live-in lover, but, if I turned myself over to him, maybe he could keep me from doing something dangerous while I learned to control myself. Over the last few days I had repeatedly presented myself to him sexually. His response was interested, but cautious. He had dressed me up, flirted with me, and violated my personal space, but had gone no further. Like Miles, he was a teenager, feeling his way into unknown territory; worrying that if he was wrong he would be headed for an ego-deflating rejection and catastrophic damage to our relationship. I was not going to wait any longer. I would no longer hide from what I needed and what I was becoming.