A white-faced clock ticked as the black hands jerked with the moments, the seemingly gray waiting room containing only three fidgeting people: one woman behind the desk with her red spectacles resting on the edge of her nose as she stared at the screen of her computer, a man in the corner wearing a brown suit flecked with spots of black thread, and a woman clad in a yellow tank top and acid-washed denim jeans.
The woman in yellow was slumped in her shoulders as her chin rested in her palm, the arm supported by the rest of the chair’s steel side. Her blonde hair was teased in the back as the rest of the tendrils were straightened to fall about her face; her pink lips pouting in a frown whenever a sigh was not falling from them. As she sat in her chair in silent boredom, her hazel eyes traveled from one focal point to another, first gazing at the fish tank near the room’s entrance, then falling onto the cracks of the green plastic border on the bottom of the walls.
“Ms. Michaellago,” called the secretary, her spectacles pushed up her bridge with a manicured French tip. “The doctor is ready to see you now, miss,” the secretary smiled when Michaellago turned her attention to the desk.
Michaellago forced a smile and stood from her seat, walking to the door next to the desk and twisting the knob before walking down the narrow hallway coated with the same gray as the waiting room. At the end of the small hall, she twisted the shimmering knob and stepped into what seemed to be an office, the sign on the door reading “Mr. Green, Ph. D” as she entered.
Inside the room, pale green plastic molded against the carpet, a desk situated between two chairs: one chair black and fitted with gentle leather while the other seat, the one placed in front of the desk, was a simple like the ones in the waiting room. In the corner of the room stood a man with peppered hair, his press shirt a light green and his pants as dark as fresh-brewed coffee.
She cleared her throat and shut the door behind her, the sounds capturing Mr. Green’s attention and forcing him to turn around. “Hello,” he smiled, the skin around his mouth layering around the corners of his mouth. “You must me Arianna Michaellago, I presume.” He positioned the book in the stuffed shelf before him and made his way to the more comfortable chair. “My secretary spoke to you over the—please sit down, it’d be my pleasure Miss—well you didn’t mention the addiction you had over the phone. I was just wondering if you could tell me what you wanted me to help you overcome.”
Arianna bowed her head with a smirk on her lips and walked to her vacant chair. Green sat down and looked up at Arianna, her hands gently holding the back of her chair. “Well, I’m a whore that doesn’t really enjoy sex. I just thought that you’d help me out with this whole cognitive dissonance thing I’ve got going on.”
Green blinked as his smile became frozen, taken aback at his patient’s predicament. “I’m not a sex counselor, but I don’t believe that you have a common situation,” he told her with his elbows coming to rest on his desk. “I’m sure I could help you with it, though.”
Arianna offered a small smile to the doctor and let her fingers drum against the back of her chair. Seeing that she wasn’t willing to offer any information, he cleared his throat and suggested to her, “Maybe a recount of one of your encounters could help me.” She nodded and set her bag on the seat.
“I guess my sexventure from last night…well, this morning, is the most recent.”
“Tell me about what happened—from when you first met him, to be exact,” Green added as he gave a nervous chuckle to what he could have heard if she didn’t start at that point.
She rolled her eyes at the correction he made and turned her back to him, walking to the bookshelf. “Well,” she began with a bored tone, “I got dressed like usual. Went out on my own—guys don’t like it when girls are surrounded by other women, it makes them feel conscious about what her friends are going to say or think about him—and I made sure to have my legs showing. Anyways, the guy came up to me and starting chatting me up—you know: drinks, laughter, running his hand up my thigh and all that. He took me to the dance floor, grinding on me like usual and then he went and kissed my neck, his hands rolling up my sides like glaciers in reverse, trying to get to my chest. I didn’t really want him to and I didn’t want to let his sweaty-ass palms touching me, but he expected it so I let him.” She turned to look at her counselor and gave a dry laugh, “Apparently, not wanting a guy to touch you isn’t a good enough reason for them not to touch you? They’ll just keep asking ‘Why not?’ with that stupid little smile on their face and keep doing whatever they want—drunk or not.” His patient turned her attention back to the volumes and let the pad of her index roll down the spine.
“So you do these things because you think you’re supposed to?” he queried to her, encouraging her to continue talking.
Michaellago nodded, her hair bouncing with her head. Green’s eyes followed the lively strands, his gaze falling too low and catching the sight of her lower back. Seeing her flesh, a bit of skin that was spotted with sweat only that morning, enticed him to look lower at the curve of her ass stretching the material of her jeans. He could clearly see a shadow beneath the mounds of her ass and he felt the wetness of his tongue sliding across his lips, wanting to see how firm her ass really was. His gaze shot back to her locks when her voice continued.
“It’s not an outside force though; it’s an internal want. I have to do it—I have to feel like I can control it—to prove that I can to myself, to him, to everyone: I just feel like I need to do it.”
Arianna turned and sauntered to his desk, her swaying hips more pronounced, but Green wasn’t sure if her hips were so animated because of his mind’s excitement or of her own will. She perched on the corner of his desk, her right ankle over her left as she stood within a foot of the seated Mr. Green. “Is that so?” he asked nonchalantly of her, his head falling back to look up at her.
She laid her palms on the top of his desk and gently lifted herself off the ground, her pert cheeks flattening against the blonde wood of Green’s desk, the acid wash fabric of her jeans stuffed with her flesh. “Yup,” she said with a small sigh, her gaze peaking from beneath her black lashes. Arianna’s legs began to swing back and forth, her slim calves softly brushing against Mr. Green’s black pants.
“What’s your first name?” she asked curiously, her pink lips wrapping into a smile.
In the next second, Arianna rested her legs on John’s thigh, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “What do you think about that John?”
Green looked down at the smooth skin laid in his lap, her slip on wedges hanging on her toes. He wanted to push her jeans up to feel the taut flesh of her legs and he could feel the stirring in his stomach become more violent the further up her leg he imagined himself. “I think I’ll disclose what I think about that at a later date,” he finally said to her, his chin going to rest on his fist. Arianna took a moment to remove her feet from her counselor’s lap, adjusting her body to face him directly as her legs draped apart, giving him a clear view to the apex of her thighs. “I do think it has something to do with you wanting to control someone or something, though,” he added as an afterthought.
“Oh, I see,” cooed the woman as her head fell to the side, her hazel eyes shimmering with hidden thoughts. “And what do you think of that? Do you think it’s interesting when a woman takes control?”
The sound of her voice seemed to take a new tone, her words becoming sultry and smooth, her tongue licking her lips slowly, almost seductively. John was beginning to become uncomfortable with her legs splayed open before him. Arianna didn’t wait for him to answer her: she already knew it.
“What’s your favorite part when she does?” she asked him, leaning forward until her shirt hung so loose that John could see the complete curve of her breasts spilling from her laced bra. “That’s why you became a counselor isn’t it?—You wanted to be in charge of other people, or at least make yourself believe that you were in control of their thoughts and emotions by having them spill their hearts out to you.” Her arms stretched out to grab onto the arm rests of his chair to pull him close enough that her breath was dancing over his neck.
Her hands slid from the arm rests to his knees and inched up his thighs as she whispered, “I know you like the illusion of having control. I know you can’t get enough of it.”
Having her breath tickle his skin as she teased him, and knowing that she wasn’t opposed to fucking around, John was unable to keep to himself. He leaned forward and let his tongue sink into her mouth, his hands going up to her tits. His broad hands squeezed her chest and massaged the mounds as his tongue darted in and out of her mouth.
With their tongues tied together, John stood up and pushed her onto her back, his hands firmly mauling and playing with her breasts as he did so. Arianna could feel his calloused fingers yanking her tank top off her body before pulling down the cups of her bra to expose her breasts. His hands went back to squeezing her tits as his teeth pulled on her lower lip.
“Take your pants off,” he ordered her in a husky voice, pulling away from her mouth for only a moment to communicate it to her. Arianna complied, pushing her pants down her legs to reveal the tiny, yellow thong that hid her shaved pussy. The jeans fell to the carpet and she pulled him closer by wrapping her legs about his waist, her hips lurching forward towards his pelvis.
His body pried his hand from her tit to unzip his pants. Letting his trousers pool at his ankles, his boxers falling with them, John’s hard cock sprang free and rubbed against Arianna’s cloth-covered clit. Arianna let out a moan as she felt his tip massage her blood-engorged clit, her pussy slick with juices. “Give it to me,” she moaned breathlessly as her hardened nipples scraped against his palms and dress shirt.
“You want it you little bitch?” he hissed as his thick cock rubbed against the outside of the cloth, small strings of pre-cum streaking the fabric. The scent of her sex filled the air as her petals became wet with her honey, some of her liquid dripping so far down her slit that her tight asshole was glimmering with her juices.
She nodded helpless as her hips thrust forwards, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh yes. Give it to me, baby,” she mewled as her nails attempted to rip through his shirt and dig into his back. Her body shook as his hands let go of her breasts, one hand going to his cock and the other going to the triangle over her pussy. The hand between her thighs shoved the cloth to the side to expose her shining pussy lips, her heat so pent up that he could feel her warmth on the end of his cock. John’s hips lurched forward once more, animalistically sinking into her depths in one smooth motion as her tits jiggled at the sudden entry.
“Fuck yes,” Arianna purred with a smile of satisfaction gracing her painted face, her slim legs tightening around his waist and making his full length fill her feminine groove. “Take control of me John,” she sighed as her hips gyrated against his form, her inner muscles massaging his sensitive length. John’s eyes rolled to the back of his sockets as his meat was swallowed by her hungry flower, her core attempting to pull him further into her being as his cock began to piston in and out of her tunnel.
As John’s pelvis glided back and forth, fully enveloping himself inside his patient, Arianna began to unbutton his shirt and slide it over his shoulders, his pale skin striking against her tanned hands. The dome of his dick kissed the entrance of her womb with each powerful thrust into her core, his skin clapping against hers as his balls slammed into her ass with each swing of his hips. Each thrust of his hips brought a new excited whimper from her full, pouted lips. John could feel her walls tightening around his fleshy pole with each whimper he forced from her mouth.
“You gonna come you fucking slut? Huh?” he spat at her as he pinned her to the desk by her wrists. His thrusts became faster as her cunt began to tighten its vice-like grip, urging him to erupt with his cum—begging his body to release his cum-filled balls with just the tunnel of her slippery cunt. “Is this what you wanted you cunt? Did you want me to pound this pussy and prove your point?” he asked as he pounded away at her open pussy, his grunts ascending in pitch, battling the whimpers and moans of his patient.
John let go of her left wrist and laid his hand over her open mouth to muffle her passionate moans. “Shut the hell up bitch,” he told her as he throbbed inside of her, her walls throbbing and writhing around his cock.
Arianna’s eyes fluttered shut, the whites of her eyes the only thing he could see before her eyes finally rested at a close, biting her bottom lip in attempt to follow her doctor’s order. He took his hand off her mouth and stared at her teeth sinking into the pink petal of her mouth, blood rushing to his genitals as he felt his load surge to his tip. “Fill me with your cum,” blurted out the whore as her walls squeezed and milked him with earnest, Arianna fully aware that her womb was about to be soaked with his seed.
Ropes of hot cum began to pour from his cock as her walls gripped tighter and tighter on him, spasming as each wave of seed was renewed. Arianna’s body rocked and shook as her orgasm swept over her being, feeling his cum fill her core as the warmth of his cream sent chills up and down her spine.
The ropes soon vanished as his load completely emptied in her cunt and John pulled out of her velvet-like core; his cock began to deflate after retreating from her depths. Doctor and patient panted in the afterglow of their climaxes, sweat sparcely spotting their temples. Arianna gulped and looked up at her doctor with half-lidded eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Green,” she gasped through her fight for air, “who was in control of that?”
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