A [F]inal therapy session brings [M]e more than I bargained for. [Cheating/taboo]

Warning: this story involves cheating. If that’s not your thing and you are reading it just to tell me how much of a scumbag I am, I am sure there are plenty of other stories to read that will be more satisfying to you. This story also involves some “taboo” sex between a therapist and a client. Yes, I know it’s wrong and illegal. I also realize that if I were reading this, I would probably be the first to call bullshit, because this kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen. I can assure you that it does happen. It’s a memory I’ll carry with me.

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One of the biggest reasons I became a therapist is because the job is never boring. This is a story about one of those times that things became more than just not boring – they became downright exciting. Part of me wishes this had never happened, since I’d be a lot less anxious and guilty, but it wouldn’t be completely honest if I didn’t admit there’s another part of me that thinks about it every single day since and smiles a bit.

A bit about myself: I’m a 40-something year old guy with a pretty boring life. I’m happily married with a family. I am just shy of six feet tall and have a pleasant, athletic build that mostly comes from good genes and a well-balanced diet. I don’t have what I consider to be a “dad-bod” (not being much of a drinker means I’ve avoided the beer belly that most of my friends have) but I am also not toned and muscular like someone half my age. Salt-and-pepper hair tops my head. Had some run-ins with other women over the years, but nothing that amounted to much more than exchanging a few naughty pictures or videos. By the time this happened, I kind of accepted that life was just going to be this way. A decent sex life with the woman I would spend the rest of my life with was what I thought life had in store for me.

Then Jess walked in my office and everything changed.

Right from the start I could see that Jess was something different than most clients. Jess was in her early 20s and in her last semester in college. She was set to graduate in a few weeks and would probably move back home once she was done with school. She said she didn’t have time for a boyfriend, but she never seemed to lack for time to have sex with some of the guys she went to school with or would meet at the gym or on her job. She struggled to meet the demands of school, but with a little assistance from me, she hoped to graduate with passing grades. I’ve worked with plenty of people Jess’s age, and most do well once you help them see that life’s supposed to be uncertain at this point, but if they can hold on a little longer, they’ll be okay in the long run. Jess wasn’t much different than most in that regard. The ways that Jess stood apart were in the looks department. Blessed with a nice mane of thick, dark, shoulder-length hair that looked incredible no matter how she wore it, Jess could stop traffic on the basis of her hair alone. Her eyes were piercing and could melt your heart when filled with tears, which my role as her therapist allowed me to see many times. She had lips that my generation used to refer to as “DSLs”. Dick sucking lips. They weren’t puffed up like a botox-filled set of balloons; they were perfectly shaped and this was the feature that constantly drew my eyes as Jess and I talked about life during her sessions. Her body was other-worldly. Due to the many hours she spent in the gym, she had a toned, shapely figure that featured small, but noticeable breasts and a behind that was sculpted by the hands of Michelangelo himself. Words don’t do it justice.

Jess was also different because of how she generally related to me. She didn’t hide her attraction to me. We had discussed her transference on many occasions, but she seemed to keep it in check and I stupidly assumed that it wouldn’t be much of an issue in her treatment. We worked together for several months, working on her anxiety and continuing to push her toward her goal of graduating.

I knew that her treatment was coming to an end and I kind of dreaded the day, because I had grown quite attached to Jess myself. I was going to miss her, but this wasn’t an uncommon feeling. I would miss her for a bit and move on with life, satisfied that I had helped Jess accomplish some of her goals at a critical time in her life. Or so I thought.

Jess arrived a few minutes early for her final appointment and sat quietly in the waiting area. I opened my creaky office door and invited her in, just like I had dozens of times before. She looked nervous, which was somewhat unusual for her. Jess’s anxiety was typically present in academic settings and big social gatherings, and never around a man. She wore a set of tight, black leggings and a loose, grey sweatshirt that kind of fell off her shoulder to reveal what I assumed to be some sort of peach sports bra or top. She was probably headed to the gym after our appointment.

The beginning of the session went like most others, a bit of small-talk about the past week, a check in on her emotional health. We moved into the discharge planning portion of the session, discussing how she intended to maintain her stability once she was through with the therapy, her plans if her symptoms worsened, and her plans for the immediate future upon returning home. Then we arrived at that part of the session that both clients and therapists dread: the end of the final session.

I spoke up first.

“Well, Jess, I think it is time that you move on to the next phase of your life. I have very much enjoyed working with you.”

Jess was silent and I watched as tears pooled in her eyes. The same tears I had seen many times before, but this time different somehow.

“I owe you my life,” Jess said, wiping the tears on her sleeve, not bothering with a tissue.

“I think you had a lot to do with that too, Jess,” I interjected, hoping she recognized how hard she had worked.

“So nice. Always so fucking nice…”, Jess muttered under her breath. I saw a slight smile start to form across her lips. Those magnificent lips.

Jess’s hands dropped down to the bottom of her sweatshirt, and I watched as she lifted it over her head and tossed it on the ground at her feet. “It’s so hot in here,” Jess said as she dropped her head backwards onto the sofa’s armrest. Jess stretched out prone, allowing me admire her figure in the tight pants and that lovely peach sports top. At the time, I remember not thinking too much about this. It wasn’t all that unusual for clients to take off top garments while they were in session. I’d even had another female client come to session straight from the pool in a bikini top and one of those semi-transparent cover-ups (I’m just now recognizing how ironic that name is for that particular piece of apparel). So when Jess took off her sweatshirt, I just assumed it was because she was actually warm. “I want you to know how grateful I am to you,” she said in a dream-like voice.

I wanted to say *that’s not necessary*, but the words wouldn’t come out. I said nothing. I sat and stared at her. She turned her head for a moment and looked at me, probably to gauge my reaction, and then turned her eyes back to the ceiling before closing them. She drew in a long, deep breath, before slowly pushing her right hand beneath the waistband of her tight pants.

*I’m supposed to stop her. I need to stop her.* But I couldn’t. I was frozen in an unknown mixture of fear and arousal. I felt the adrenaline start to course through my system. I must have been shaking in my chair. Instinctively, my hand went to my mouth to cover it, in order to stop it from saying anything that might prevent this train from continuing down the track it was on.

I sat in silence for what seemed an eternity and watched as this young, beautiful woman masturbated 6 feet away from me. Her eyes remained closed while her hand danced around her womanhood. What began as slow, timid movements began to quicken into frantic rhythms as her head rolled forward slightly.

I don’t know if it was 10 seconds or 5 minutes. After taking in this amazing sight and seeing Jess become more and more caught up in the moment, my fears about what I was doing started to retreat from my mind and became replaced with pure lust. I began to be aware of the pressure beginning to build in my khakis. My hand began to massage my growing member through my pants.

Jess opened her eyes and looked at me and I watched the smile return to the corners of her mouth. In one swift motion, I saw her sit up enough to peel her top off and drop it on top of the sweatshirt on the floor. Just as quickly, she reclined back to her original position and her hand returned to her pants. Here in my office was a topless, brown-haired college co-ed pleasuring herself as I watched.

I took a deep breath and stood to my feet, unclasping the belt holding my pants in place, unbuttoning the button, unzipping the zipper and dropping the khakis in a pile around my ankles. I sat back down quickly, so I wasn’t tempted to pull off my boxer briefs. My heart was thundering in my chest as I pulled at my cock while moving my gaze from Jess’s perky tits down to her vibrating hand. *This is not happening. This can’t be happening.*

As I pondered my grasp on reality, the unthinkable happened: Jess raised up on her heels just enough to pull her leggings off of her body. My eyes must have looked like two big moons as I watched her sit up and pull the pants over her feet and drop them into the growing pile of clothes that sat in the floor beneath her. Jess was now completely naked and lying back to resume her self-pleasuring. Her pussy was shaved completely bare and was visibly glistening. I saw tiny trails of slick moisture fall off her fingers as she started to twirl them around her hole. I remember thinking how attractive her pussy was to me: she had this slightly pronounced clit and inner lips that I find really fascinating and beautiful. My cock felt like a baseball bat in my hands through the fabric of my shorts. She turned momentarily to watch me watching her.

There was a split-second where I thought about what I was doing and felt what was guilt? fear? something else? You know what… it doesn’t matter. I was past the point of no return. I was playing with my dick while a client was naked on my office sofa playing with her pussy. Jess’s eyes trailed down to watch my hand pulling on myself. Almost without thinking, I shifted my cock around into the leg of my shorts, so that the head would occasionally peek out the bottom. She bit her bottom lip and that was that.

I stood up and pulled my briefs off and sat back down in my chair, this time with my legs spread open and my left hand tugging on my balls as I stroked myself. I thought I would pass out from the excitement, but Jess spoke:

“Can I suck your cock?”

I didn’t dare answer. If I had spoken up, I might say no. And I was not going to say no to this offer. I just nodded my head and gave a slight “come here” signal with my fingers.

Jess stood up off the sofa and took the handful of steps across the room toward me. I took my hands off myself as I watched her gracefully kneel between my legs while putting her hands on my thighs. Her brown hair fell around her and into my lap. She put her face 3 inches from my dick and breathed her hot breath on my shaft and balls. My cock twitched. While keeping her hands planted firmly on my legs, Jess somehow coaxed the head of my dick into her mouth using only her tongue, lips and suction. This was the first woman other than my wife and my doctor to touch my dick in two decades. The lips that I had been admiring from a safe distance for months were now solidly wrapped around my cock. How is it that a great blowjob can feel warm and cool at the same time?

Oh man, this was going to be over too soon. I didn’t want this to end. I didn’t want to disappoint this magnificent creature that was giving me the gift of pleasure, but I was helpless. I watched in awe as her head bobbed up and down on my member, trying to remember every millisecond, knowing this would never happen again in my whole life. I wanted to remember the feeling of her tongue on the underside of my head. I did everything I could to paint this picture in my mind for all time, but it seemed like every mental brushstroke I used just erased a moment before it.

Suddenly Jess stopped. She took her right hand off my legs and gently pressed two fingers between my lips. I realized these were the fingers that she had plunged into herself and were still damp from her own juices. I sucked on her fingers and watched as she, almost in slow motion, slowly bent her head back down. Just before her lips reached my throbbing dick one last time, she said, “I want your cum.”

As my head went farther into a woman’s mouth than it had ever been, and I felt her tongue dance on my shaft and head, I exploded. I emptied every last drop of my cum deep into Jess’s mouth. I have never felt anything like it before or since. I sucked on her hand like it was my last dinner and tasted her delicious pussy. Jess caught her breath for a single second and then as I watched, she swallowed my cum.

She placed her chin on my thigh, smiled, and said, “I got something of yours to remember you by.” I caressed her head as I breathed in the feeling of what had just happened. I pushed back the guilt that started to come in around the edges. *No, I won’t allow that to happen. This will be a lasting good memory and I won’t let my guilt ruin the moment.*

The only word I could utter was a breathless, “Wow.” Jess smiled and stood to her feet. She bent down slightly and kissed me on the cheek and touched my face. Turning, she walked back to the pile of her clothes on the floor in front of my sofa and bent over to retrieve her yoga pants first. As I watched in silence, she allowed me one last view of the space between her legs and the faintest glimpse of her puckered asshole before pulling her pants up, followed quickly by that peach top and finally the sweatshirt. My dick twitched one last time. It probably took her less than 15 seconds to go from naked to fully clothed.

Without saying a word, I watched as Jess turned the knob on my office door, stepped out into the hallway, and closed the door behind her.

To this day, I have no idea what shoes she wore.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/dm6kyi/a_final_therapy_session_brings_me_more_than_i