I was having panic attacks daily when a friend told me to see her therapist. I’d been in a relationship that was going south. We were fighting all the time and, as a result, not having sex. Things were awful.
I made an appointment with a therapist who was a much older, very attractive woman. She had large breasts and long, tan legs. I was in my 30s. She was in her late 60s, but so beautiful it almost didn’t matter. Her skin was smooth, she was wealthy and wealthy looking.
After a few sessions, I already started to feel better. I knew this would help. Then, I started having dreams with my therapist. Sex dreams.
I wanted to share the dreams with her, but I was afraid she’d tell me this was crossing the line between doctor and patient and she would refer me to a man. So, I went weeks without mentioning the dirty dreams.
Finally, at the end of our session one week, I told her I’d been having dreams. With her. And I was hesitant to share them because I didn’t want her to cut me loose.
“Oh, no, no. It’s very important I hear them,” she said. “Next week. You’ll tell me. And spare no detail.”
A week later, I returned to her office.
“So,” she said. “These dreams?”
I was amazed! Usually, we’d end the session with plans of what to speak about the following week, but neither of us could ever remember. But this week, she remembered. She wanted to know.
Was I reading into this too much? Or was she a horny old widow? I’d Googled her and learned that her husband had passed years ago and she never remarried. So, the ring she wore must have been from her dead husband.
Now, I started to get excited.
“Okay …” I said, blushing a bit.
“You know,” she said. “I almost exclusively work as a sex therapist, helping couples rekindle their romance. You needn’t be embarrassed. I’ve literally heard it all, from a man with a urine fetish to a lesbian couple who used strap on dildos. You can relax. And tell me …”
“Well,” I said. “In the dream, your house is one of those Malibu beach style homes. And it’s got a perfect green lawn. I walk around to the side and find your office. The door is open, but I’m early. I … I tell you I can wait in the waiting room, but you spread your legs. You’re not wearing any panties. And you put your hand, uh, between your … legs … and …”
“Masturbate? Do I masturbate?”
“Yes,”
“Ah,” she said, smiling quickly before returning to her serious gaze.
“And you say, ‘You don’t need to wait. I’m sure we can think of something to do with these ten minutes.”
“And then what happened?” The therapist asked.
“I walked over to you and kissed you. And you leaned back on the sofa and … I got on top of you and we started to kiss.”
“Mmm,” she said.
I wasn’t sure if that mmm was, like, ‘okay, please continue’ or if it was like, ‘I’m getting turned on.’ Regardless, I continued.
“I pulled your top down and, uh …”
“Saw my breasts?”
“More than saw.”
“Sucked at them?”
“Yeah, sure. And I undid my pants and … put myself … you know, in. You.”
“So we were having intercourse.”
“Yes.”
“And then what happened?”
“It gets … very … pornographic.”
I looked at her. She was wearing a short pencil skirt and had opened her legs slightly. I wasn’t sure if I was misreading things or not, so I continued.
“Well, I … I turned you around and we had sex … from, like, in doggy style.”
“Okay.”
“And I pulled your hair. Hard. And you moaned and you called out my name.”
“Mmm,” she said.
“And then, I did something …else.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, I’d rather not say, it’s awkward.”
“It’s okay. You can tell me. You don’t have to be embarrassed. There’s nothing at all to be embarr–”
“I spat on your asshole and fingered it.”
“Oh,” she said. Her eyes grew wide. “You did, did you?”
“Uh-huh. And you liked it. And you told me to … finish.”
“You know, in psychology, a dream with a therapist is a good thing. Sex is freeing. You see me as a person who will free you. You feel uninhibited around me. Free. You feel like I will help you get free. Perhaps the stuff in the dream is a metaphor for the wild sex you wish you were having and I’m in the dream because you see me as the person who will help free you from this bad relationship you’re in.”
“Ah,” I said.
“Anyway, was that it? I assume in the dream you … ejaculate inside of me?”
“No,” I said. “No, it wasn’t the end of the dream and no, I didn’t finish inside of you. You asked me to … finish … on your, uh … f-face.”
“Oh. Well. That’s … interesting.”
“Yeah. So … that was the dream.”
“It’s very erotic. Is your sex life like that?”
“No, not at all.”
“But you wish it were?”
“Oh, yeah. Totally. I mean, not with you. But. I mean, I don’t mean. I don’t mean that. I think you’re very beautiful, actually. But … I didn’t.”
“So you want to fuck me?” She asked.
“I … guess?”
“Do you want to make your dream come true?”
“I … guess?”
She stood up. I’d never seen her stand before other than to welcome me into her office. She spread her legs and dropped her panties to the floor. They were lacy, surprisingly sexy for an older woman.
She got on her knees.
“Come over here. Fuck my mouth.”
I unzipped my pants and pushed my rock hard cock into her throat. She began to masturbate and hum as she sucked me. Drool ran down her chin. I wiped it away.
“Hold open my mouth,” she said.
I slipped my fingers into the sides of her mouth and held it open. I took the cue to fuck her mouth as hard and as fast as I could, treating it like a pussy. She gagged and spat and coughed and kept masturbating until she had an orgasm.
Soon, she was doggy style on the sofa. I looked at her pussy. It was beautiful, tight. So was her asshole. Not a wrinkle on her. I pushed myself into her dripping wet pussy and fucked, harder and harder.
“Fuck me,” she shouted. “Make me cum!”
I pumped, harder and harder.
“I love young cock,” she said as she masturbated. I pumped away, slapping her ass as I fucked.
“Do it,” she said. “Like in the dream.”
I spat on her asshole and slipped a finger inside. She moaned with delight.
“Dammit you’re a dirty boy. Now fuck me until you cum!”
I pumped, stretching out her asshole more and more as I fucked away. Soon, she was on her knees and I was jacking off over her face. She clutched her exposed breast in one hand and rubbed her clit with the other.
“Come on, baby. Drench me!”
She took my cock into her mouth and sucked me all the way down and then spat on my cock. I resumed jacking off until I nodded.
She leaned in, like a pro, and opened her mouth. I start cumming, one string, two strings, three strings of jizz shot across her face and into her hair.
“OH!” She yelled as she brought herself to orgasm.
More cum was shooting from my cock, soaking her face, dripping onto her blouse and skirt. She was properly cum soaked by the time I was done.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a cummer,” she said. She removed a mirror from her desk drawer and looked at herself.
“Damn,” she said, nodding in approval. “Good work.”
“Thanks,” I said as I pulled my pants back up.
She sat down, leaving her panties on the floor, and tucked her exposed breast back into her top. She was gasping for breath as she calmed down from her orgasms.
“So,” she said, keeping the lines of jizz on her face, “Where were we?”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/78ydb2/the_therapist_m_f_oral_mast_cum_cheat