My Therapist Is A Futanari の小説・ストーリー

She spit out her gummy bear on her lap. "Like that crazy talented sex therapist?" I nodded and she gasped. "Holy crap, you lucky son of a bitch. Reid Romano was voted number one sex therapist in the world. He's like also the richest, Oh and don't forget super fucking attractive." she went on and on telling me Reid’s biography. "Susan, he's also the sex therapist that Dan hired" I said and there goes another gummy bear. "Ehhhh, Is he trying to lose his wife?" she said laughing and we continued to get drunk.

“Yes. And make it fast because security is right outside waiting to escort you out and your grandmother is at parking waiting for you.” Trepidation passed her dirty face. “You called her?” “Before I even got to you. A video of what happened here will be sent to the sex therapist she would be consulting today upon my recommendation in case you try to come for me again for your fix. If that happens, you do know you’ll be coming out of rehab after a very, very long time.” “You can’t do that,” she said. “I know the therapist. Not my friend. He’s an asshole and way too smart and prejudiced for you to fool, Charis. But he would like to have you. And you already know how things like this turn out.”

And then I was coming, screaming my release as my pussy clamped down hard around his cock. Adriano followed me over a moment later, burying himself deep and spilling his cum inside me once more. We both collapsed forward onto the desk, spent and panting. "That was... incredible," I breathed, still hazy with pleasure. He chuckled and nipped my earlobe playfully. "I thought therapists weren't supposed to fraternize with their clients." I swatted his chest half-heartedly. "Well, that was a bit of an exception. You're just irresistible."

"You like that, you filthy slut? Being used by your therapist?" "Yes," I hissed, my pussy clenching around his thick cock. "Fuck me. Make me your dirty toy." He chuckled darkly, his fingers moving down to rub my clit in hard circles. "You want to cum on your therapist's cock, don't you? Be a good little slut and beg for it." I was panting now, my hips bucking back to meet his thrusts. "Please," I whimpered. "Please let me cum on your big cock. Fill me up with your hot seed."

But she stepped back, opening her legs to show me the glittering fold that I wanted to be between. “I want you,” she mewled, her fingers parting her folds, letting me see the throbbing pink heaven that has become my addiction. “Mr. Reul, is someone there with you?” the therapist's voice rang out over the phone. Neven grabbed the phone from my hand, putting it on loudspeaker as she placed it on the table, her hand on my thighs as she slowly sank her as down. My tip pressed against her folds, sinking into her hot channel.

I cursed, glaring wide-eyed at him, but he responded with a smirk, grinning widely, his eyes pinned against my already soaked cunt. “Wet for me?...already?” He asked. The blade had nipped off of flesh of my clit. Causing me to shudder from fear?...... Arousal?...wanting more?. I needed therapy; it made me realise how sick I really had been. I was a freak; I agreed; I knew I was sexualy fantasizing, always about depraved, immoral, and ugly things one could barely imagine from a young age. But now, being in this situation turned me the fuck on,

"Oh, Goddess, Tor- I didn't even think of how much this all affected you. Are you doing okay?" "Yeah, I mean war is part of the job. Being the Beta's daughter is never easy," she said, though I got the sense she was brushing me off. "You know, I'm your therapist too. You can vent if you need to." I hoisted another board to the window, holding it steady for her. "Joint therapists?" She laughed, securing the board I held in place, "That's gotta be some sort of violation of the Therapy Code. Is that a thing?"

About ten minutes later we were in bed making love. It took me about a week to find a therapist that was black and willing to have me watch the massage. He was in his 40s and not in great shape but he was male and black. I didn't want to lose the momentum or the fun we were having so I arranged for him to come to our home one evening.

I leaned back in the deep leather chair of my private office, the late afternoon light filtering through half-drawn blinds and casting long shadows across the Persian rug. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen, a deliberate choice to help clients feel both grounded and safe. My name is Dr. Adrian Hale. For the last six years I have practiced a form of sex therapy that most traditional therapists would never dare. I do not simply talk about intimacy. I create it. I guide my clients through their blocks, fears, and inhibitions by sharing physical connection with them, always with clear consent, strict boundaries, and their complete agency. The body remembers what words alone o