LOGINShare
STORY 48 - RIDING THE UBER DRIVER (III)
publish date:
2026-05-22 04:24:02
Latest chapter
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 64 – FUCKING MY FAVOURITE CAM FAN (I)
The green light blinks on, and fourteen hundred people watch me slide my hand between my legs.They trickle in – the notification sound pinging in my earpiece as usernames populate the chat and the viewer count climbs in the corner of my screen. I settle into the ring light's glow and let the camera find me. I'm wearing what I always wear for the Thursday night stream, a black lace set that costs more than my electricity bill and stays on for about eleven minutes before the tips reach the threshold I've set and I start peeling.The chat moves fast. Hey, gorgeous. Missed you. Been waiting all week. And the usual cascade of eggplant emojis from men who have apparently never encountered a more sophisticated way to announce their erections. I smile at the camera because the smile is part of the product, and the product is me. The business model is simple – I turn myself on in front of a lens, and strangers pay to watch.I started six months ago because I needed rent money and had exhauste
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 63 – MY FUCKING THERAPIST (V)
I let go.My pussy grips his cock in waves so intense that I can feel my pulse in every wall that's touching him, and I scream into the leather of his couch with tears running down my face, but I'm laughing between them because my body has picked every exit at once and is currently using all of them.He drives deep and holds and I feel him swell inside me and then the pulse, and then his thick and hot cum is filling me while his hand presses flat against my lower belly from behind as if he's trying to feel himself from the outside, and the groan he makes belongs to a man who held a professional boundary for six months and just watched it come apart around his cock inside a woman he was never supposed to touch.He stays inside me while we both breathe with his forehead resting between my shoulder blades and his hands on my hips. His cum leaks down my thighs and drips onto the carpet where his patients' feet rest during session, but neither of us moves to clean it up, because the eviden
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 63 – MY FUCKING THERAPIST (IV)
He lowers himself over me and the leather creaks under our weight, then his body finally covers mine and the warmth of his skin against every inch of me is grounding and electrifying at once, and I want to sit with that contradiction except his cock is pressing against my entrance and my brain has left the building."Tell me," he says, positioned at my opening but not pushing in, with his forehead against mine and ours breath mixing together. "Use your words.""I want you to fuck me. I want the cock that's been hiding behind that notepad inside me. I want you to talk to me while you do it because your voice is the reason I'm here and–"He pushes in.The stretch of him fills me all at once because he enters me without hesitation and he arrives at the depth of me in one continuous motion that leaves no room for ambiguity. My back arches off the leather and my mouth opens around a moan as his hands brace on either side of my head.His eyes are on mine and he holds still, buried, letting
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 63 – MY FUCKING THERAPIST (III)
He says it in the same tone he used when he said tell me about your childhood. It is the same measured calm, except his pupils are blown wide and his breath is coming faster and his hands are gripping my waist hard enough that I can feel each individual finger through my skin.I unbutton them and he pulls them down my legs along with my underwear in one motion and throws them on the floor beside the couch. Then he kneels on the carpet between my legs and pushes my thighs apart, and I'm lying on the leather couch where I have processed my entire emotional life, spread open for the man who processed it with me.He doesn't go in immediately. He looks. Studies me the way he studies everything, with attention and patience, his hands on my inner thighs holding me open, and the professional quality of his gaze makes the exposure ten times more intense because I'm being examined by a man whose profession is examination."I want you to describe what you're feeling," he says, looking up at me f
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 63 – MY FUCKING THERAPIST (II)
My heartbeat relocates into my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, and whatever was holding his expression in its professional architecture has let go, and the man looking at me now is not my therapist. He's a forty-one-year-old man who has been sitting four feet from a woman who describes her sex dreams to him weekly and his restraint has finally met the limit of what his ethics can hold.I get up from the couch, walk to the door, and turn the lock. The click of it fills the room, and when I turn around he's standing, and he's taller than I estimated from his sitting height, and his shirt is fitted enough that I can see his chest and his stomach and the way his body tapers into his belt, as the distance between us turns to five feet and closing."I need you to understand something," he says. He hasn't moved toward me. He's giving me the choice, the agency that his training has built every session around. "If this happens, I'm referring you to a colleague tomorrow. I can't be your
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 63 – MY FUCKING THERAPIST (I)
Dr. Vaughn’s office smells like sandalwood with the hint of leather and the calm that two hundred dollars an hour buys. I’ve been coming here every Tuesday at four for six months, lying on a couch that costs more than my first car, telling a man I am not sleeping with more intimate things than I have ever told any man I was sleeping with, and today I am going to tell him about the dream I had last night where he bent me over the arm of this exact couch and fucked me until I forgot my ex-husband’s name.I haven’t decided that yet. I’m still in the waiting room, sitting in the grey chair by the window, pretending to look at my phone while my pulse does something it has no business doing in a medical building. His door is closed. His four o’clock before me – a man in a nice suit who always leaves looking slightly less compressed than when he arrived – is still in there. I have three minutes.I have three minutes to decide whether I tell Dr. Vaughn the truth today or continue the performa
You May Also Like
Craving The Wrong Brother
Elysian Sparrow600.8K viewsHired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire
Kayla Sango975.4K viewsThe Heartbreak Prescription
Glazed Snow1.4M viewsPursuing My Ex-Wife Isn't Easy
Inked Snow3.3M viewsWhat He Never Let Go Of
Cyella103 viewsDivorce Me, Mr. Billionaire
Betty✍️64 viewsAFTER DIVORCE
Petee Lisa100 viewsThe Mafia King's Untouchable Rose
Sage_Ryuuzen63 views
