Back in the early nineteen sixties, Bob's parents took a vacation to northern Wisconsin each summer. Most years, they spent the time at his grandfather's house, but this year, they rented a cabin at a lake. Joining seventeen-year-old Bob and his parents were his sixteen-year-old sister Carolyn, his aunt Peggy, and her daughter Susan, something of a spoiled girl, who was also sixteen. They came every year, but this was the...

The ring came at the door and I was ready. I knew this would be the psychologist my friend Suzanne told me about, who came by to satisfy her “anxiety”, or sexual frustration, the way the doctors used to do with hands-on stimulation. She told me that he would be open to whatever fantasy or method of satisfying me that I wanted, so I called, discussed my situation, and made an appointment. When I answered the door, we excha...

They say our dreams reveal our real desires. I wonder if that's true after the dream I just had because I didn't think I'd be into what happened in my dream. But still, I wanted to share it with you. It went something like this: I was a princess, living in a fabulous bedroom chamber in the turret of a castle. The king and queen, my parents, lived in a different turret, so I had nothing but privacy. Daytime, I did all the...

I heard the doorbell and was startled a bit as I daydreamed about the appointment I booked, and now the doctor was here. I'm Debra, divorced and in my late thirties with no kids. It all started for me when my friend Suzanne told me about her great experience with a psychologist who treats women with anxiety, that being code for sexual frustration. That's me alright. No sex since my divorce over two years ago, and I was fe...

I’m a grad student at a small university. One good thing about being a university student is the cheap health care that comes with it, and I take advantage whenever I need to. Anyway, to help flesh everything out, I’m a short-ish guy, 5’7″ and about 130 pounds, so more on the slender side. This might be a bit disgusting, but one morning, sitting on the toilet, wiping, I noticed a red spot on the toilet paper, so as soon a...

The doorbell rang just as I was expecting. I knew who it was, and I had been waiting for him. It would be the psychologist my friend Suzanne recommended, who had given her his 'clinical' therapy for anxious women. Anxious was code for sexually frustrated, and it was based on his knowledge from his practice that many women were not sexually satisfied at home, leaving them wanting. His therapy, based on what the doctors did...

Jill was happy. She'd just come from her lawyer, who was ready to serve her soon-to-be ex-husband his divorce papers. She'd had enough of his neglect, and finding out he'd been cheating all along was the final straw. But now it was about to be over, and she was thrilled. Leaving the lawyer's office, she headed to the old van she had to drive since her husband had taken the 'Beemer' that day. But she smiled to herself as s...

I was reading my women's adult novel when the knock came on the front door. I knew who it was, and I was expecting him, but I was reading to give my mind another place to focus while I waited, since I was a little apprehensive about this visit. At the door would be the psychologist my friend Suzanne told me about, and she said she was sure he could help with my sexual frustration. I'm Ann; just turned fifty, and lately, i...

The doorbell rang right on time. I knew it was the psychologist my friend Suzanne had told me about, who had given her his “clinical” therapy for frustrated women. It was based on his knowledge from his practice that many women were not sexually satisfied at home, leaving them stressed and frustrated. His therapy, based on what the doctors of old did, involved giving these women hand stimulation leading to an orgasm and r...

I heard the doorbell as I was waiting for the psychologist to arrive, so I answered and let him in. The doctor was maybe in his fifties or maybe low sixties, older than I expected, but he looked very professional. He was recommended by my friend Suzanne to help me with a particular sexual frustration I had. I'm Donna, in my late forties. My husband died in a car accident just over a year ago, and since then, I've had no s...

I heard the doorbell. I knew who it was. I'd made the appointment a week ago and wondered how I'd respond when the time came. And now the time was here. I'm Suzanne, an empty-nester in my forties, and I had to share my story. It all started when I saw an advertisement for a clinical way to relieve a woman's sexual anxiety. Given that my husband's idea of sex was to lube me up and screw without foreplay, finishing in minut...