The Therapist (The Therapist #1)

by Ws Greer

  The meal was fantastic, as is every meal Becky cooks for us, and looking at her sitting across from me, I feel like the stage is set for the show I've been planning to put on. Our bellies are full, it’s been a few days since we last had sex, and there's nothing in our way now.

  “Well, I’m stuffed,” Becky says as she sits back in her chair and lets her hair down. Her brown locks fall behind her back and she uses her fingers as a comb to straighten them out. She looks amazing, reminding me of how lucky I am to have her.

  Some would say Becky is out of my league. I know her level of sex appeal is far beyond mine, and there's tons of guys who walk past us and stare at her as if I’m not even standing there. But, no matter what anybody may think about her being on my arm, Becky chose me. She could've chosen Dr. Bishop a long time ago, or any other guy walking the halls of Bayhealth. She didn't choose them, though. She chose me, and it'd be a crime if I took that for granted just because we’ve been together a while now. I know that’s common in relationships, but I can't let us fall victim to complacency.

  “That was amazing, babe,” I compliment, making sure to look Becky in her beautiful brown eyes.

  She smiles, still playing with her hair. “Thank you. I needed that after today. My feet still hurt from those heels. I shouldn't have worn them. They're too high.”

  I scoot my chair closer to Becky’s and lift one of her feet into my lap. She’s barefoot now, and I take the opportunity to massage her feet. As my fingers rub the outside of her foot and then between her toes, Becky’s head falls to the side as her eyes close. She sinks beneath the pleasure of the massage and lets out a sensual moan that lifts the corner of my mouth into a smirk.

  “Mmm. That feels so good, honey,” she mumbles between exhales. “Thank you.”

  I keep rubbing, making sure I don't miss a single spot on her foot. “You're welcome. You deserve it, baby.”

  My hand slowly starts to make its way up her ankle, before sneaking up to her calf. I squeeze with the tips of my fingers, inching my way under her dress and up the back of Becky’s leg until her eyes open as she realizes where I’m leading her. She locks her eyes on mine, silently agreeing to engage in what I'm offering, and I know it’s about to happen now.

  My hand keeps walking up the inside of her leg, squeezing her gently at first, before growing in aggression when I reach the inside of her thigh. Becky moans as I let my fingers find the outside of her panties, where I can feel the warmth emanating off of her. I rub the lace separating me from her wetness until I feel that wetness start to soak through to my side. Becky moves her body in a grinding motion, begging me to remove the layer between us, and when I do, I’m shocked at how soaked she is. The knowledge of how much she wants me makes me incredibly hard, and I feel primed to deliver on the promise I made to myself the moment I left Dr. Colson’s office.

  I continue to rub Becky’s wet clit, running perfect circles over it as she grinds against me with her eyes closed. I watch her, enjoying the view from my seat as she relishes my touch. I want to kiss her, but I take Dr. Colson’s advice and just watch her, making sure to keep doing what I know feels good to her.

  Becky continues to moan, and I keep rubbing, wondering if doing this will bring her to orgasm. I know how important the clitoris is, so I’m anxious to see if doing this can get her to the edge, as Dr. Colson put it. After a few minutes, I realize this isn't the thing that’s going to make Becky orgasm. I don't mind, either. While I want to make her come, this isn't the way I intended, and I’m much too eager to let go of the plan I had in mind. So, while still rubbing Becky’s clit, I lean forward and kiss her.

  Our mouths are glued together as our tongues dance against one another. Both of us let out sensual moans as our hands start to roam each other’s bodies. The fingers on my free hand find themselves all the way under Becky’s dress, while her hands make their way to my pants and start to push their way beneath the fabric, searching for my erection. When she finds it, both of us let out excited groans. I’m rock hard, she’s soaking wet. It’s time for both of us to find our way to heaven.

  “I want you, Sean,” Becky groans into my mouth. “I want it now. Right fucking now.”

  My heart thuds like it has an amplifier hooked up to it, as the two of us stand up together, our mouths still kissing and sucking. We walk towards the living room with our hands still groping beneath the clothes of the other person until we find the couch. My leg bumps up against it, before we turn simultaneously and I fall backwards onto my butt. The second I’m down, Becky climbs on top of me, straddling me like I’m a horse and she’s ready to ride.

  My erection presses against her, still separated by thin fabric, and I feel like we’re both about to explode as we pull clothes off. My shirt comes off first, then Becky’s dress is lifted over her head, followed by the absurd struggle of trying to slip out of my pants while our bodies are entwined. Eventually, all obstacles are removed, and there's nothing left between us but heat and passion.

  11

  ~ Sean ~

  There's nothing slow about it tonight. Nothing gentle or romantic. Tonight, Becky wants to be fucked. She wants to be torn apart, and to tear me apart. She craves being handled roughly and for it all to end with an earth-shattering orgasm that rumbles the street our house is on. I can tell from how fast she jumps on top of me the second our clothes are off. In two seconds flat, Becky is back on me with a leg on each side of my waist, sliding my rigid cock into her with a rush. She lets out a gasp once I’m fully inserted, but the length of the gasp is all the time it takes for Becky to start grinding on top of me.

  The force of her hips rocks the couch beneath us, but we don’t care. My concern isn't the furniture. I’d gladly sit atop this couch as the legs snap out from underneath us, as long as Becky has the orgasm I’ve been thinking about for so long. So, I grab onto the couch and hold on as Becky rides me. She rides with an aggression that borders on rage, clutching the top of the couch behind me and yanking it, using it as leverage as she charges forward. Both of us let out groans like we’re being tortured for information as it goes on.

  “Yes!” Becky screams as she rides me. All I can do is bite my lip as she takes what she wants, my cock stiff inside of her, savoring every move she makes.

  “Yeah, baby. Fuck me,” I hear myself say, although it sounds foreign to me. I’m so into this, I feel like I barely recognize myself, but instead of fighting it, I embrace it.

  My hands release their grip on the couch and move to Becky’s hips. I grab on and squeeze, following her hip movement and mirroring it with my own. It seems to be the right move, because Becky perks up a bit, biting her lip as she squeezes her eyes shut.

  “Yes, baby,” she barks, but she never looks at me. I know she’s into it, but I don't think I’ve ever seen her keep her eyes closed the entire time before. Nonetheless, I’m just as into it as she is, and I won't stop.

  I look up at Becky, struggling to find her as her hair dangles over my eyes, but I see her and make sure to pay attention. My mind rushes back to Dr. Colson’s office, and I can hear him telling me to keep pushing once I’ve got her on the edge. I can hear the conviction in his voice, and I remember how I felt in the moment, as I realized this man wasn't telling me what to do without knowing it for himself. Dr. Colson gave me advice based on experience, and I’m envious of that.

  I want to know what it’s like to be so good at sex that I can counsel people I’ve never met before, and give them sound advice that actually works. I want to know exactly what to do to Becky that gets her this horny for me every night, while also wrecking her body with orgasms. I want it more than I can explain. So, when Becky’s breathing becomes rhythmic and she stops talking, I really pay attention.

  I see how she keeps up the same movement over and over again with her eyes pinched shut. The couch squeals in protest in a quick-paced cadence, and I know Becky is building up to it. She has everything exactly how she wants it, and she’s being pushed to the edge right here on top
of me. All I have to do is keep pushing, just like Dr. Colson said.

  I look up, watching Becky as she grinds passionately on top of me, her tits swaying back and forth with her movements. I hear her breathing, I see her beautiful face and how her brow is furrowed in concentration. I smell her sexy perfume and let my hands reach around and squeeze her ass. Everything looks and feels so good, I don't even notice the orgasm sneak up on me. Before I realize what has happened, everything I was working for comes collapsing around me.

  “Oh shit!” I blurt out, completely caught off guard. “Oh, I’m gonna come! Oh!”

  Becky slows her movements down, but it’s too late. I’ve already crossed over whatever threshold there is inside the human body that keeps you from pushing an orgasm back down to where it came from, and my body flexes all of its muscles at once. I have an orgasm that feels like I hit a brick wall while riding a bike, and when I come down from it, Becky has stopped moving altogether. She’s sitting still on top of me, breathing hard, and glaring at me as if I’ve just given her the biggest disappointment of her life. When I lock eyes with her, I feel like a child who just brought home a bad report card.

  “Oh fuck,” I whisper, still trying to collect myself. “No, no, don't stop. I can keep going.”

  Becky doesn't look amused. “Sean.”

  “No, baby, please don't stop,” I plead, because I want to finish this more than I can get Becky to understand. “I can keep going, I swear. I don't care how long it takes, I want you to come, Becky.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to come. I don't know how it overtook me like that, but I want you to come. Don't stop until you come.” I grip Becky’s hips and start to force her to grind on top of me again.

  “It’s okay, Sean,” she says with dissatisfaction dripping from every word. What she doesn't say is, I’m used to it, but I know it’s hidden behind her words. It’s back there, lurking beneath the surface.

  “No, it’s not okay,” I snip, feeling frustrated. “And I’m not stopping until you come. Now come on. Fuck me, Becky.”

  I keep pushing, forcing Becky to grind on me. She releases a disenchanted sigh before I feel her start to move on her own. I have to grip her tighter, because after having just orgasmed myself, everything is more sensitive now. My dick is screaming to stop, but I can’t. I grip Becky’s skin so tight I’m sure it’ll leave a bruise on her hips, but I don't dare let go.

  The two of us keep going until I hear the rhythmic breathing again. When I look up, I see Becky with her eyes shut, and I find myself wondering what it is she sees in the darkness. What movie is playing behind her eyelids that seems to help her get to the edge? I didn't think about it before, but now that I can see Becky is on the verge again, I find myself curious. Even as Becky starts to take in long gasps that build up higher in pitch, before letting out a soft moan and dropping her body down onto mine with her hair covering my face entirely. Even while I struggle to breathe through her hair, my mind wonders about the unknown.

  Becky climbs off of me without taking any time to recover, before getting up and walking out of the room. I hear her walk towards the stairs and ascend them before going into the bedroom and closing the bathroom door, presumably to get cleaned up.

  Thoughts ignite inside my head as I sit on the couch, still catching my breath from it all. I’m shrouded in confusion, and I’m not sure I’m fully aware of what just happened. Did Becky actually have an orgasm? It bothers me that I couldn't really tell—and if she did, why did she have to squeeze her eyes closed in order to get there? What was she imagining? The questions swirl around my head like a thick fog, coating all my senses and keeping me immobile.

  Then, there’s the question that’ll haunt me the rest of the night, and for who knows how long after. I feel it running up to me like a thief in the night, and I want to push it away. I want to block it out but it comes too fast and forceful. The question hits me, and I feel myself start to break beneath the weight of it. It’s the question I’m most afraid of.

  While Becky was riding me, working up the strength and sensation she needed to come with her eyes pinched shut, was she thinking about Dr. Bishop?

  The Golden Rule

  12

  ~ Malcolm ~

  “Good morning, Dr. Colson,” my receptionist, Keisha, calls out to me as I walk past her and push through the door to my office. I close the door behind me and walk over the hardwood to the desk, where I sit down and grab my notes on my next patient, Sean Tillman. I had a productive session with Sean last week, and I expect today will be a positive one as well. Sean is a good patient who's willing to learn and try new things—the perfect client. I have about ten minutes until Sean is due to arrive, so I try to use the time to go over what I expect next from him. However, this morning, I find myself distracted by thoughts of my own life.

  My relationship with Ava feels like it’s turning. While I love nothing more than fucking her—feeling the crack of my flogger as it whips across her supple flesh, followed by the sensuous moans that escape her open mouth, there's a new feeling forming. I’m not sure the new feeling is one I can ignore.

  Ava has a history. When we met, she told me things that frightened me, to be honest. Seeing as I’m a therapist and I’ve heard some alarming truths from the mouths of my patients, I was shocked by how Ava’s words made me feel. Nonetheless, I couldn't get past her beauty. It’s cliche, I know, but Ava is a gorgeous, seductive woman, and I’m a man who can't shake the image of a woman giving herself to me once the image is born in my head. The thought of Ava granting me control of her body, trusting me with it, knowing I’d take care of it better than anyone else could, weighed on me like a thick blanket, and I couldn't shake it off. I knew I needed to fight my urge harder, but I couldn't. I didn't, and we haven’t kept our hands off each other since. But even after two months, I haven’t come close to forgetting the affect her words had on me when we met.

  “Dr. Colson?” Keisha’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

  “Yes?” I reply.

  “Your nine o’clock has arrived.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  I push thoughts of Ava to the back of my mind as I get up and make my way over to the door, carrying the notes on Sean Tillman with me. My issues with Ava will have to be addressed after my session with Sean. When I open the door, I see Sean in the reception area with his hands clasped together in his lap. He’s dressed more casually today, with a plain red t-shirt and black pants. His hair is messier than before, and he doesn't look to be in a good mood. Even after hearing the door open beside him, he doesn't look up. Sean just stares at a black and white painting on the wall behind Keisha as if it’s hypnotizing him.

  I clear my throat and call to Sean to break the trance. “Mr. Tillman. Good morning. You ready?”

  Sean snaps out of it, blinking his eyes as if awakening from a vivid dream. “Oh. Yes, hi Dr. Colson. I’m ready.”

  The two of us smile at each other, although Sean’s seems more forced than mine, and we walk into the office. Sean heads straight for the couch as I aim for my chair, within ten seconds of being in the room, Sean is already talking.

  “I think I might be losing her,” he says, looking down at the floor instead of up at me. “I think things might be worse than I initially thought. Maybe I came here too late. Becky seems to be already moving onto something else.”

  Before I speak, I scribble “Paranoia?” onto my legal pad. “What makes you think that?”

  “I caught her texting a guy a couple of days ago. It’s a doctor from Bayhealth who I know she’s attracted to. His name’s Dr. Bishop, and even though she said some crap about them conversing about a cabinet the first time I caught her texting him, they’re texting every day now. I don't have any confirmation that it’s him, besides the first day when she admitted it, but I know it’s him. Our sex life took another hit, too, and I know she wants him now. I know it, Dr. Colson.”

  “Are you sure? Because it doesn't sound like you are.”
I place my notepad in my lap and reposition myself to get more comfortable. “Is it possible your paranoia about Becky’s relationship with this doctor is being triggered by insecurity about your sex life?”

  Sean doesn't answer. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor, so I go on, trying to bring him out of it. Therapy doesn't work if the only person talking is the therapist.

  “You said your sex life took another hit. What happened?”

  Sean lets out a sigh and shakes his head. I can tell the memory of this event disappoints him.

  “I’d been planning on giving Becky the best sex ever since the moment you and I had our first session,” Sean states.

  I write in my notepad—Why would you think you're prepared to give the best sex ever?

  “I had this whole thing planned out and I’d imagined it a hundred different times,” Sean goes on. “So, I came home from my shift and she was in the kitchen texting Dr. Bishop, which only made me more determined. Everything starts off great: we have dinner, I rub her feet, slowly making my way up her leg, and we start kissing and touching each other, before moving it over to the couch, where she climbs on top of me. I tried to do what you said, making sure not to change anything when I realize she’s getting close. But as my luck would have it, the sight of her grinding on top of me, breathing hard with sweat gliding down her breasts, sent me over the edge. I ended up coming before she did, and when I looked up at her, she looked like I’d just insulted her mother. She was actually livid, and I could see the disappointment in her beautiful brown eyes as she glared down at me.”

  I have to take a second to swallow down the increasing pride I feel in my chest, because some of us are really lucky we don't have the problems other people have. If I couldn't control myself, my private life would be so much harder. I’m one of the lucky ones, which is a big part of why I became a relationship and sex therapist—to help the people who can't do what I can do.