[MF] Is it bad when you and your therapist take turns making each other cum? (Part 3)

*You can read Part 1* [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12jiag2/mf_is_it_bad_when_you_want_to_fuck_your_therapist/) *and Part 2* [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12l60tq/mf_is_it_bad_to_tell_your_therapist_that_you_want/).

Lydia and Thomas were both nervous as 2 o’clock neared.

After last Friday’s events, Thomas had left Lydia’s office with a smile on his face — so, too, had Lydia. He had insisted on paying for the session, not because he felt he needed to pay for her affection and sexuality, but because he, too, had wanted things to seem above-board should anybody look closely. And a therapist not charging patients was a red flag.

In the week since, Lydia had thought often about what had transpired. She had touched herself to it — her memory was incredibly vivid of that afternoon’s events — but she had made an effort to resist cumming. An effort which she hoped would pay off the next time she saw Thomas, not that she would force anything. Deep down, Lydia was afraid of scaring Thomas off, stirring up guilt that he wouldn’t be able to overlook and would cause him to drop her as his therapist. If he mentioned what had happened, she’d be out of a job. Lydia knew that she was afraid of much more than that, though. She genuinely found Thomas to be intriguing and interesting — she liked listening to him talk and discovering the way he thought.

​

Truth be told, she had felt awfully lonely the last six months.

After her parents died, only a few months apart from one another, her and her fiancé had hit a rough patch. Daniel was a lawyer — your typical Type A personality — and despite the fact that they had been together since university, he hadn’t shown much in the way of empathy and compassion as Lydia grieved. He had gone through the motions, really, but hadn’t offered Lydia the type of emotional support she needed. It took more than a year, but eventually, she realized that they had grown apart — they barely saw each other anymore, didn’t really have sex or show much physical affection to one another — and when she told him that she thought they should break things off, he didn’t put up much of a fight. The downside of having been together so long was that their group of friends was largely the same and most of them had more in common with Daniel than Lydia, starting with white collar jobs. Lydia also felt that most of her friends were walking on eggshells around her since her parents had died — it was something that, fortunately, none of her other friends had experienced yet. She still spoke to her closest friends regularly, but she saw them increasingly sparingly. The gulf between them was growing ever larger with each passing week.

She had been thinking about that as she ate her lunch in her own kitchen, scrolling through Instagram and seeing pictures of double dates and couples’ vacations, women she had gone to high school with posing with their infants. She wondered how many of them were truly happy. She glanced at the time — it was 1:30. She finished her salad and made her way upstairs. She wanted to change before Thomas’ appointment. She felt silly going to such great lengths, but she also acknowledged that she had probably been putting in a little more thought to her choices over the last few Friday. This week was just taking it to a new level. She stripped out of the chunky black sweater she had been wearing and removed her bra, too. Instead, she pulled on a white silk shirt, leaving three buttons undone, exposing the the tips of her collarbones and the gold pendant necklace she wore. She kept her black jeans on, but undid them to tuck in her shirt, partly; as she did so, she caught a glimpse of the black panties she had picked out that morning. She imagined that, come this evening, they’d have a creamy white patch right in the middle, where her lips rested. She refastened the button fly on her jeans and pulled out a pair of black leather boots with a rugged, utilitarian sole — hiking boots for the urban, upper-middle-class woman, signed Prada, no less.

She looked at herself in the mirror. It was undeniably different than her usual work attire, but she felt comfortable in it, like she was allowing Thomas to glimpse the real her. She was also pretty sure he’d be able to glimpse her nipples poking against the cool, light fabric of her shirt. She smiled, devilishly, at this thought, before making her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs. It was a quarter to 2 — she wanted to be sure that she was in her office when he arrived, and she had a bit of paperwork to sign before his session started, anyways.

Thomas’ usual pre-session stroll involved more reflection than usual. Last week had been exhilarating for him. Despite the fact that he had emptied himself in Lydia’s office, he had stroked himself to completion a second time when he showered that evening. His thoughts had focused on Lydia — the way she touched herself, the way her wetness glistened, the sound it made, the sounds that she made, the way they had looked each other in the eyes and the way they had cum together. That was what sent him over the edge in the shower, his cum hitting the dark tiles before he washed it away. It was what sent him over the edge the next day, and the next and the one after that, too.

As he rounded the last corner on his usual route, he thought back to his Wednesday evening. He had made a nice supper for Christine — a whole fish with beurre blanc and braised leeks — and picked up a nice bottle of wine. For the first time in months, he had taken the initiative and made love to her. Part of him had felt guilty about what had happened with Lydia, but he had also felt a pang of longing for how things had once been with his girlfriend. Above all else, though, he wanted to see whether having sex would dull his desire for Lydia.

He was quite early, even by his punctual standards, where being on time was what others would consider five minutes early. He rang the bell and waited, taking in his reflection in the door’s window — his hair was exceptionally wavy and unkempt today, thanks to the stiff breeze that was blowing, he had tidied up his beard that morning and it accentuated his jawline, he wore his usual small, round, black glasses, with a dark blue chore coat over a striped blue shirt that was unbuttoned and layered over a white T-shirt, with a pair of well-worn white jeans. He waited for the door to unlock, but it didn’t. He rang the bell again. Perhaps Lydia had another patient before him today.

Suddenly the neighbouring door opened. Thomas turned his head to the left, slightly startled, and was surprised to see Lydia emerging.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, seeing Thomas standing a few feet away, “I, uh,” she stammered a little bit, “have you been waiting long?”

Thomas smiled. Try as he might, he couldn’t refrain from letting his eyes take in the sight of Lydia in a white silk blouse and tight jeans. Even though he had seen her naked, the fact that she was less reserved than usual was of great interest to Thomas.

“Well hello,” he said, forgetting almost immediately about his vow to try and stifle his desire. “Maybe a minute? I’m a little bit early, I know.” He nodded towards the door from which Lydia had just emerged, while taking a small step back, to give her room to get to the office door. “I didn’t realize that the office was the entire building, that’s neat.”

Lydia stepped between Thomas and the door, bringing the key to the lock and sliding it in. She could almost feel the notches hitting each cotter pin and spring. Part of her wanted to reach back, grab Thomas’ hand and pull him into the building; another part of her wanted to tell him that she lived next door, and that they should do the session there — ideally in her bedroom — instead of in her office; and another part of her wanted to lie to him, to protect part of her private life, to try to make things normal.

She twisted the key left, unlocking the door and pushed it open, crossing the threshold before Thomas. They were standing in a small vestibule, with a coat rack on the left, the stairs a few feet in front of the door and the waiting room off to the right. She turned around and faced him. She wasn’t sure whether it was the thirty seconds of cool spring breeze or the fact that she had come face to face with him so soon, but she could feel her hardened nipples pressing against the silk of her shirt. She caught Thomas’ gaze lingering on her chest for a second before he looked her in the eyes as he stepped foot inside the vestibule, closing the door behind him.

“It’s not part of the office, actually, it’s my house.” She said it matter of factly, then flashed him a smile and, before he had time to answer she stretched her arm out to her left, guiding him towards the waiting room. “Give me five minutes and I’ll come and get you.” With that, she turned on her heels and climbed the stairs.

Thomas watched as she took the steps at pace, with a spring in her step. Her ass looked phenomenal in those jeans, the pockets accentuating the natural curve of her behind. He noticed her boots, too, and immediately made out that they were Prada — he hadn’t pegged Lydia for the type, but he was intrigued. He was also a little bit taken aback. He slid his arms out of his chore coat and hung it up before taking a seat in the waiting room. He took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on Do Not Disturb, as he always did. His mind was racing as he sat there. For one, about the fact that Lydia lived next to her office, which also meant that she lived relatively close to Thomas and Christine; and, yet, he had never seen her in the neighbourhood, not at the little farmers’ market, nor any of the cafés or restaurants, nor just walking around on the weekend. He was also doing some quick mental blueprinting. By the looks of the building, the residential portion took up a little more than half of its footprint. That would be quite a sizeable living space for a single person — was Lydia married? He had never seen a ring on her finger, but he imagined that most therapists removed things like that. Maybe she was like Thomas and had a longterm boyfriend-turned-life partner. Finally, he began thinking about how blasé Lydia had seemed — were they going to acknowledge what had happened last Friday? Or would it be uncouth for him to say something? To compliment her? Could he be honest with her the same way he was last week, or did she want to avoid that.

He was uneasy and distracted. So much so that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming from above his head, nor the sound of Lydia coming down the stairs. Instead, he was snapped back to reality when he heard Lydia’s voice. “Okay,” she said, softly, “I’m ready for you, Thomas.” He turned his head towards, smiled back at her and stood up.

Today, she waited for him before starting up the stairs, his face mere inches from her behind. He could smell her perfume — the same as last week — wafting in her wake as he climbed the stairs. He wanted to grab her by the waist and guide her into the office, pushing her onto the couch. Instead, he simply followed her into the office.

Lydia closed the door behind them and sat down in the armchair she occupied each session — the same one that she had cum in last week. Thomas took his seat on the couch. He couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the table that sat between them — the one that some of his cum had landed on — cum that he had cleaned up with his fingers and fed to Lydia. He felt a rush of blood to his nether region. He looked up at Lydia, who was smiling gently at him.

“So,” she said, crossing her right leg over the left, “how are you coming in today?”

So, Thomas wondered, are we really not going to address what happened last week? Or was she waiting for him to say something? He didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“Good,” he said, finally. He was able to look Lydia in the eye today, for what felt like forever. She didn’t say anything, she waited, staring him in the eyes, their gazes locked together. Finally, Thomas cracked. “Well,” he started, his voice getting a bit softer, more whisper-like, “I guess conflicted actually.”

Lydia cocked an eyebrow and uncrossed her legs, before crossing the left over the right. Had he made her uncomfortable, Thomas wondered? In reality, Lydia was simply trying to find a position that was comfortable for her but still let her feel her legs pressing together on either side of her slit. From the second that she had climbed the stairs, feeling Thomas’ eyes on her ass, she had started to get wet. She wanted him, desperately, but she didn’t want to show it. With her left leg crossed over the right, her crotch was obscured from his view — unbeknownst to him, she was clenching and unclenching her thigh muscles and core, teasing herself ever so slightly, building up tension and anticipation, the same way she had as she edged herself over the past week.

Again, she waited, curious to see if Thomas would clarify or add anything without her intervention. Much to her surprise, he kept talking after a few seconds of silence. She was encouraged by the fact that he wasn’t averting his gaze today. She felt as though they were looking into each other’s mind.

“Oh, come on,” he said, smiling at her cocked eyebrow, “there’s definitely some guilt that took root this week.” Thomas took a deep inhalation and let it out, slowly. “I fucked Christine, though, so I guess that’s good, right?”

Lydia did her best to hide her surprise — her shock, even — but she couldn’t. She felt a wave of jealously and sadness wash over her.

“You did?” She asked this quickly, with an urgency that she had never shown before. Thomas found this amusing.

“Does that make you jealous?”

Lydia didn’t answer, she stared at him, so he kept talking. “I hope it does.” He paused, again. “On Wednesday, I felt guilty. The first few days, I didn’t, I’ll admit — I masturbated to you over and over, honestly, I played it back in my head dozens of times.” He saw a look in Lydia’s eyes that seemed to say “I know, I did, too.” But she said nothing of the sort. Instead she waited. “Wednesday night,” he continued, “I was, like, fuck this, let’s try to have sex and see where it goes. I guess I felt I owed it to her after what happened.”

Lydia wanted to prod him a bit, but she couldn’t, she was blinded by her jealousy and this alarmed her. She didn’t think that she cared that much, after all, she knew that he had a girlfriend. She had convinced herself that their bedroom was so dead that it couldn’t be revived. She was wrong.

Neither spoke, until she finally broke the silence. “And? How was it?”

Thomas laughed. “Less fun than last Friday, honestly. Boring, vanilla.” He tilted his head downwards a bit before looking up at her, playfully. “Honestly, I had to picture you to cum.”

Lydia smiled. Inside she was ecstatic, but on the outside it was the same smile she had flashed Thomas and countless other patients thousands of times. She wanted to say that was good, but she resisted. She was still somewhat upset that he had had sex with Christine — but with what right? They hadn’t even had sex, and Christine was his partner, after all.

As she considered this, Thomas spoke again. “Plus, there was a part of me that thought that if I was having sex semi-regularly at home, then maybe I’d be able to contain my desires here.”

Lydia didn’t want that, though. But she understood that Thomas was concerned about having over-stepped the boundaries — which would normally have been the case, many times over. Lydia felt her heart beating in her chest. She was afraid of what Thomas was going to say next, but she couldn’t resist her curiosity.

“And is that the case?” She said it with such cool and poise that she was afraid she sounded mad. She could see Thomas recoil a little bit as she spoke, surprised with her tone.

“Actually,” he said, sitting up again and tossing his head back, letting out a sigh, “not at all, I still want to fuck you, probably more than last week.” He smiled at Lydia, but she didn’t smile back. “And definitely more than I want to fuck her.” He said that last word slowly, with emphasis and an intonation that almost bordered on disdain, this despite the fact that Thomas did love Christine. He felt ashamed to be saying the words, but he couldn’t help himself, he was being honest, not just with Lydia but with himself, about what he was feeling.

Lydia placed her hands on the armrests of the chair. She pondered what Thomas had said for a few seconds. She was happy, really. But she also felt that jealousy still present. Even though she had encouraged Thomas to be honest with her, she felt as though, by telling her that he had fucked Christine, he had wanted to show her that he didn’t need her, only to turn around a few seconds later and assure her that he still longed for her. She felt a rush coursing through her.

“Prove it,” she said, her face unflinching in its expression.

Thomas laughed, surprised. “Excuse me?” He smiled, the right side of his mouth tilting upwards a little bit more, with genuine amusement.

“Show me that you still want to fuck me,” Lydia said slowly, her voice coming from somewhere deep within her. Thomas thought that when people use the word sultry to describe a voice, this is what they must be referring to. It was the first time in his life that he had heard someone speak with that emotion in their voice.

“Show me that you want to fuck me more than you want to fuck her.” Lydia said it the same way that Thomas had a few seconds earlier, with a disdain that was, she was increasingly realizing, genuine. She wanted Thomas all to herself, even if she knew this was impossible. But at least she was able to admit to herself where she stood, emotionally.

Thomas looked at Lydia blankly. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. He found himself at a loss for words for one of the first times in his life. He also found himself to be oddly aroused. The was something about Lydia, in her silk blouse, her nipples rippling the fabric, those tight jeans and those boots — those fucking boots! — telling him that he had to earn her, that was making him long for her even more. He felt overcome with desire for her, a deep, primal yearning that made him want to leap across the little table and smother her with his body, lay his lips on hers and feel the inside of her mouth with tongue, feel her own tongue, feel her teeth, her gums, the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat. He wanted to be intertwined with her. He thought about making a move for it — about lunging across the small distance — taking a swing and hoping that she wouldn’t mind.

Instead he found himself rooted to the couch.

“How,” he managed to say, finally, “I’ll do anything. I’ve tried to convince myself I wouldn’t, but I’ve been thinking about it constantly. Tell me what I need to do.”

This was enough to eke a smile out of Lydia. She bit her lip and uncrossed her legs, spreading her knees a little bit.

“Anything?” She asked, playfully, her voice trailing off a little bit.

Thomas nodded.

“Stand up, then.”

Thomas obliged.

Lydia giggled. Thomas smiled. He felt a bulge forming in his jeans and he strained to make it even more visible for Lydia. He wanted her to see how much she turned him on.

Lydia brought her hand to her cheek and rested her head in her palm. “Why don’t you take off that shirt and let me see you?” Thomas was more than happy to oblige. Quickly, he slid his arms out of the shirt and let it fall behind him, on the couch. He reached down and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. The air was cool in the room and his nipples quickly became hard, framed by his dark chest hair. He could feel Lydia’s eyes wandering from his face to his chest to his toned stomach — he thought he detected them lingering a little bit on his belly button, where a trail of dark hair began and let into his jeans. The waistband of his boxers was slightly visible above his belt.

Lydia was pleased with what she saw and she smiled as she drank in Thomas, standing there, topless. As her eyes wandered downwards, she couldn’t help but notice the bulge in Thomas’ jeans, straining against the fabric. She liked that.

“It looks like you’re enjoying this,” she said, speaking slowly, drawing out each syllable, as she brought her gaze back to his.

“I am,” Thomas replied, “and I hope you are, too.”

Lydia feigned consideration, as if weighing something in her mind. “I suppose so,” she said, a smile growing on her lips, “but I think you can do better.” She raised an eyebrow and then looked at Thomas’ crotch. Without saying a word, Thomas knew what she was referring to. He undid his belt, slowly, at first, before pulling it out by the buckle. He held it there, dangling the tail just above the floor.

“Is this what you want?”

Lydia looked him in the eyes again for a brief second. “Yes, Thomas, I want you to show me how hard you are right now. I want to see just how badly you want me.” She said these last words rhythmically, as if reading a poem, before directing her eyes back below Thomas’ waist.

The fact that Lydia’s gaze was seemingly fixed on his body was a huge turn on for Thomas — more than he would have guessed. He thought that he liked the way Lydia stared into his eyes, but he loved the way she stared at him. He let his belt fall to the ground, the silver buckle clattering against the hardwood floor. Slowly, he started to undo the buttons of his jeans. The first revealed the waistband of his boxers, dark blue that looked black in the shadow of his torso. The second uncovered a small wet spot, barely visible, but slowly growing, at the tip of an increasingly large bulge. The third brought about a more complete picture of the bulge in Thomas’ boxers. As he undid the fourth button, he gripped the denim and pushed it down his thighs to his knees, before raising each leg in turn and stepping out of his jeans, kicking off his shoes at the same time. In the matter of a few minutes, he had gone from sitting on the couch, relatively innocently and intent on keeping his urges in check, to standing at attention in nothing but his boxers and socks, with his urges very visible to Lydia.

Lydia bit her lower lip and proceeded to lick it ever so slightly. She looked up at Thomas. “Good boy,” she said, slowly. She saw Thomas’ eyes flicker a bit, as if they were twitching. She looked down and saw his bulge throbbing ever so slightly in his boxers. “Is that a new one for you,” she asked, gently, standing up and walking around the table, slowly.

Thomas nodded. As those first two words had come out of her lips, he had felt a shiver go down his spine, then something warm in his stomach. There was something about the confidence that Lydia was showing right now, it wasn’t just comforting — it was fucking hot. But he also felt like he had to prove himself worthy of her now. That last week had been but a taste of what they could enjoy together — but he had to earn it. And he wanted to, desperately.

Lydia was next to him now. She could smell his nakedness, the mixture of his cologne and the natural odour of his body — of his flesh, the most private parts of him. She stood on her tippy toes to bring her lips next to his ear and whispered to him. “You like it, don’t you?”

Thomas shook his head.

Lydia was surprised. Suddenly, she was nervous. This was new to her, she was doing what felt right in the moment. She was terribly afraid that Thomas saw this as some power play. But she was comforted when she heard him speak.

“I love it, actually,” he said.

Lydia was relieved. She reached her hand down and pressed her palm against the bulge in Thomas’ boxers. It was the first time that the two were touching in more than a fleeting, accidental manner. Feeling him in the palm of her hand — literally and figuratively — was thrilling for her. She knew he was real, of course, but being able to actually touch him made him even more real — and it made this, what it was, impossible to deny. For Thomas, too, feeling Lydia’s hand on his bulge and feeling her breath tickling his ear was intoxicating to the point of almost being painful. He felt that warmth coursing through his veins, growing from his stomach into his throat but also into his crotch and his legs. His whole body felt possessed by desire — like it had gone soft, even though he was very much hard, much to his and Lydia’s pleasure. Thomas swallowed hard and let out a soft moan as he felt Lydia’s hand moving over his bulge, along his shaft until she cupped his balls through his boxers.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, “it seems like you do love it and you weren’t lying that you want me.” She kept moving her hand up and down Thomas’ bulge, her pink manicured nails sticking out against the navy blue backdrop of his boxers. She felt powerful, but also, in a way, naked, despite the fact that she was the one who was the most clothed of the two. She liked feeling Thomas’ bulge in her hand, feeling the proof that he was aroused by her — that he found her, as he had said last week, hot.

She let out a playful little laugh as Thomas moaned and groaned. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he crossed them behind his back. He wanted to rip her clothes off, but he judged it best to let her enjoy this little dynamic as much as she wanted to before he could indulge his fantasies — plus, he was enjoying this thoroughly.

Lydia leaned in to his ear again. “Let’s see just how good that cock of yours feels in my hand instead of in yours,” she whispered into his ear, before bringing her lips to the bit of flesh where his ear lobe met his jaw bone, her tongue tingling his skin and his beard prickling her upper lip. The warmth and wetness of her mouth made Thomas weak — made him let out a primal groan — but he kept his hands behind his back. Much to his delight, Lydia didn’t wait long before she slid her hand into his boxers, grabbing his shaft and stroking it from bottom to top, albeit just the once, before withdrawing her hand and teasing him with a playful laugh. She enjoyed feeling his shaft in her hand. It was warm and a bit moist — which she chalked up to being confined to such tight boxers. She decided that was torturous for both of them and tugged at his waistband, freeing his erect shaft and swollen tip.

Thomas closed his eyes. He was afraid that if he looked down and saw Lydia’s hand wrapped around his cock, feeling her so close to him — so close that he could hear each breath she took — that he would explode right then and there. Lydia could feel his manhood throbbing. She ran her hand over the tip of his cock, feeling the sticky warmth of his precum on her fingers. She brought let go of his shaft and brought her hand to her mouth, licking it and spitting on it. She wanted to taste him, but she also wanted to give him a taste of what she was capable of. She wrapped her left hand around the base of his shaft and slowly stroked it upwards.

“You’re so fucking big,” she said, with awe and she meant it, genuinely. Truth be told, he had only ever been with Daniel and two other men, before the two of them were dating. Thomas felt comfortably bigger than both. Thomas moaned as she stroked his shaft, slowly. He opened his eyes and looked down at her holding his shaft. She began stroking it faster. “She doesn’t make you feel this good, does she?”

Thomas shook his head energetically. “Not even close,” he whined. He uncrossed his hands from behind his back and reached right across his body, feeling the cold silk of Lydia’s shirt. He pulled it out of her jeans and Lydia allowed him to, moving her body to make it easier, encouraging him. “I want to feel your body,” he said, between grunts as she alternated the pace of her stroking.

“Of course you do,” she said, before she brought her lips to his torso, pressing her lips to his collarbone and running her tongue along just underneath it, finishing with her teeth against his flesh. She kept stroking him as he used one hand to slowly unbutton her shirt, with the left grabbing her ass through her jeans. Lydia, in turn, let out a moan, feeling his hands on her body, as if he were molding clay, massaging it to his will. Despite the current dynamic, she would gladly let herself be massaged to his will — but right now, all she wanted, was to feel his manhood throb and twitch with pleasure. Thomas resisted the urge to rip her blouse open, slowly unbuttoning it. Thankfully, she had left the top three undone, which made his job a third less long. Finally, he undid the last button, pushing her shirt aside and pressing his hand to her breasts with an animalistic hunger and excitement. Lydia moaned and bit her lip as she felt Thomas’ hand on her flesh for the first time. His skin on her skin. His fingers running over her nipples made her shudder and she felt an increasingly warm puddle spreading in her panties. She released his cock so as to remove her shirt and, as she did, Thomas took advantage to reach for her waist, trying to unbutton her jeans.

Lydia stepped back and shook her head, playfully. “Nope,” she said, “not yet, you have to be patient.”

Thomas responded with a low groan, exaggerating his frustration. The sight of Lydia topless, in her tight jeans and those leather boots, was enough to drive him mad. As she wrapped her hand around his shaft again, he shuddered and closed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he let out, opening his eyes again and looking into hers, with a desire that was unlike anything Lydia had ever seen. His hands were on her waist, then her stomach, then her breasts. She could feel his fingers digging into her flesh, running over her nipples, spreading his index and middle finger either side of her pink nub and then pinching it as he massaged her breast with his hands. She stroked his cock faster. He stooped down and she craned her neck towards him, bringing their lips together. For the first time, their tongues touched, tangling together, their spit mixing. Lydia had been right, Thomas kissed her like he was trying to reach into the depths of her soul and suck it out — and she fucking loved it. She moaned as he kissed her and he could feel the vibrations in his mouth and throat. He pulled away, biting her lower lip as he pinched her nipple between his fingers, tugging on it and twisting it.

“Fuck, yes, I love that,” she said, softly, closing her eyes. Thomas was encouraged, he did the same with her other breast, drawing another moan from her lips. “I think you could make me cum like that,” Lydia said into his ear. As she did, she started stroking his manhood faster, gripping it tighter.

Thomas eyes widened as she did. Without noticing, he tugged on her nipple more firmly. Lydia whimpered. She slowed her stroke and loosened her grip for a few seconds and, then, without warning, dropped to her haunches, wrapping her hands on Thomas’s hips, centering herself in front of him. In the matter of a second, not more, she had her lips parted and her mouth ready to welcome the tip of his erect cock. Thomas looked down, surprised. He felt bad — he wanted to please her — but as he watched the swollen, reddish tip of his cock disappear inside Lydia’s mouth, as he felt the warm, wetness of her tongue and her lips envelop his member, he didn’t feel bad. He had forgotten how good it felt to get a blowjob. Lydia swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock and then slowly pressed her head forwards, taking it deeper in her mouth, until she couldn’t push it any further. She slowly pulled her head back, making sure to keep it wrapped tightly between her lips and, as she pulled her mouth away, she stuck her tongue out, a long, thin strand of spit bridging the gap between his shaft and her mouth.

She giggled. Thomas moaned.

She pushed the tip of his manhood back into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth slowly, but with an increasingly quick tempo. Thomas reached down and but his hands on the sides of her head, brushing her long dark hair out of the way and clutching it with one hand behind her head. Lydia looked up at him and grinned — or at least, to the extent that she could with his cock in her mouth. As they made eye contact, she began moving her head back and forth more quickly, making an effort to leave more spit on his hardened shaft, the sound of her throat welcoming his cock filling the small office, with Thomas’ pleasured moans punctuating the rhythm of her cranial thrusts. Thomas opened his mouth and stared at Lydia.

“I’m,” he struggled to get the words out, “I’m going to cum,” he managed to mumble, “if you keep going.”

Lydia pulled her head back for a second. She licked her lips. There was saliva on her chin. She smiled at Thomas. “Good, I want you to cum for me,” she said, before she swallowed his cock again. Thomas was overcome with pleasure — the tip of his cock was incredibly sensitive — but it was the idea and the sight of Lydia pleasuring him, milking his cock with her tongue and her mouth that pushed him to the brink. He couldn’t look away, even if the waves of pleasure would normally have him close his eyes and tilt his head back as he was overcome with an orgasm. Instead he watched as Lydia bobbed her head back and forth, welcoming every inch of his manhood — savouring it.

“I’m going to fucking cum,” he groaned. Lydia nodded, but kept sucking, faster, tighter, wetter. “Fuck, I’m going to,” Thomas repeated. His groans and the feeling of his muscular thighs tightening against her hands as he neared climax served as all the encouragement Lydia needed to push his cock further into her mouth, into her throat, pushing through her gag reflex, melting it away.

As she did, she felt Thomas’ second grip the back of her head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled. She could feel his cock twitching in her mouth. She pulled her head back a little bit. She wanted to swallow it, but she wanted to taste it on her tongue — she wanted to feel his warm, tangy cum in her mouth before she swallowed it down her throat.

She looked up at him as his cock twitched. He was overcome with pleasure. He felt the blood rush out of his head and he felt his legs tingle as Lydia swirled her tongue over his tip. It felt like wave after wave after wave of cum came from deep inside him, through his shaft into Lydia’s waiting mouth — as if by not seeing it, his body felt the need to produce more — to fulfill its purpose. As Thomas’ ropes of cum filled her mouth, Lydia felt a profound satisfaction. The fact that he kept cumming turned her on incredibly — that she was able to create so much pleasure, wave after wave.

Thomas collapsed back into the couch.

“Holy fucking shit,” he said, breathlessly. He closed his eyes for a second and tilted his head backwards, before opening his eyes and looking at Lydia, who had a smile on her lips. She opened her mouth and revealed a pool of white on her tongue. She closed her lips and swallowed, then proceeded to lick her lips with satisfaction.

“Good fucking boy,” she said, standing up and undoing her jeans, revealing the black panties she had so carefully picked out that morning, “now it’s your turn to enjoy my body.” She tugged her jeans off, kicking off her boots and pulling her panties down around her ankles. She climbed onto Thomas and stood up on the couch. She looked down at him, taking another step forwards, until his head was directly underneath her. Thomas tilted his head backwards, resting the back of his neck on the top of the cushion. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Slowly, Lydia lowered herself onto his face, smothering his mouth with her wetness. Thomas’ tongue was warm and agile and Lydia’s wetness was sweet and thick — it was, for both of them, well worth the wait. Thomas hooked arms over Lydia’s legs and gripped her thighs with his hands, digging his fingers into her flesh. She, in turn, grabbed a tuft of his hair. Thomas flexed his tongue into a stiff tip, using it to part Lydia’s lips and then swirling it around her swollen, sensitive clit. He could hear her moaning despite her her thighs sandwiching his head.

“Yeah, just like that,” she said, letting out a prolonged, guttural moan of pleasure.

Thomas moved his tongue faster, pressing it closer to her slit. “You taste so good,” he tried to say, but his voice was muffled by her mound. He said it with his voice deep in his throat and Lydia felt the vibrations in her clit. It drove her mad. She started bucking her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy into Thomas’ mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she shouted in quick succession, barely breathing. She was moving quickly now, but Thomas didn’t seem to mind, using his hands, he pulled her closer to him, until he could poke his tongue between her lips and inside her. He coated her clit with his saliva and pressed his tongue on it, sucking on it gently.

Lydia squeezed her thighs together as she felt her insides clenching and tightening, overcome with pleasure — all the pent up pleasure that she had resisted since last Friday.

“I’m going to fucking cum, Thomas,” she squealed, looking down at him. Like Thomas, it was the sight of him under hear, his mouth busy lapping up her juices and focused exclusively on her pleasure that pushed Lydia to the edge. As Thomas felt Lydia’s thighs clenching his head, he let go of them, extending his hands upwards and resting them on her breasts, taking her nipples between his fingers as he continued to lick her clit, with increasing pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” Lydia moaned, as she arched her back. Thomas’ hands on her breasts sent her over the edge — she had always had sensitive nipples. She let herself loose, pressing her pussy into Thomas’ face, feeling all of her weight seemingly resting in the point where her clit met the tip of his tongue. As she shuddered, Thomas tugged on her nipples. “Don’t fucking stop,” she managed. And Thomas didn’t — he wouldn’t dare. He kept swirling his tongue around her mound, side to side and up and down, along her lips, across her clit. He could feel her wetness soaking into his beard. He could taste her. He wanted to be able to taste her for days afterwards. He wanted to hear her moan. He wanted to feel her shudder. She, too, wanted to feel him pleasuring her — doing everything to tease an orgasm out of her — on a daily basis.

As she came — was it a second orgasm, or just an extension of the first one? She didn’t care — she collapsed towards and slid down his body, until they were face to face, both spent and breathing heavily. Lydia smiled at him. She could smell herself on his beard. Thomas kissed her and she could taste herself on his tongue and his lips. She loved that.

Neither said anything — but they didn’t have to.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12px0qq/mf_is_it_bad_when_you_and_your_therapist_take