Microtherapy With Dr. Marilyn free porn video

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With her foot up on the chair for leverage, Marilyn reached up and down her left leg, smoothing her black silky nylon. She pulled her skirt up slightly to readjust her garter and then straightened up. She was ready for her next patient.

The leggy raven-haired beauty took pride in her professional appearance. Her hair was braided and rolled into a tight, matronly bun. Her suit, while very tight on her willowy body, did not reveal any of the lushness underneath. Although Marilyn was tall and thin, her body with its 34Ds and rounded ass was nothing short of amazing. She ran 3 miles daily and practiced gymnastics twice a week for flexibility. At work, she also wore thick-rimmed glasses that highlighted her bright blue eyes and lent her an air of professionalism. From her experience, people do judge a book by its cover.

Stuart walked in with a thick file folder. Olivia Meyers was scheduled for 3 pm, and Marilyn needed to do one last review of the file before the appointment. Stuart set the file down and came around the desk. He gripped Marilyn's tense shoulders with strong hands and began deeply massaging her knots. Leaning in toward her neck, Stuart inhaled her smell of sweet citrus with a little spice.

Stuart might prefer big burly men, but he often made an exception in the last five years for Marilyn. She has a way of setting his loins on fire. Marilyn reached up and squeezed Stuarts hands, silently thanking him for the massage and asking for him to leave. He was very adept at reading Marilyn without her having to say much. With one final shoulder squeeze, Stuart walked out of the office, promising to ring her when Ms. Meyers arrived.

Marilyn opened the folder and stared at the face of her new 23-year-old patient. Marilyn was shocked when she first read the girl's file. Olivia had a young, innocent face in the pictures but her file told a different story. Sometimes intimate friend and fellow therapist, Dr. Michael Hammond passed Olivia on as a “lost cause.” Marilyn got the tough cases, the patients that other therapists can't or won't help. She only took a few patients on at a time and focused on intense microtherapy to treat and resolve deep, subconscious issues.

Marilyn flipped the first few pages, coming to a stop on a computer printout from a porn website. The innocent girl was nowhere to be found. In a series of thumbnails, Olivia posed naked on a large round bed with 10-15 guys surrounding her. Her arms and legs were tied to the bed in a star shape and dicks filled every one of her holes. Thick cocks, black cocks, bent cocks, she seemed to be loving it all. It was obvious that Olivia did not have any qualms about being the center of attention at a massive orgy.

Marilyn felt a familiar fire building between her legs. Sexually-driven microtherapy was her favorite. The wilder the client, the better. And therein lay the guilt – the more she enjoyed these kinky cases, the more Marilyn questioned her personal vs. professional motivations. Stuart buzzed in and announced that Ms. Meyers had arrived. Oh well, she thought. An ethical debate for another day. The one thing Marilyn knew for certain is that she has always been very successful at helping all of her clients. Her track record was flawless.

Olivia walked in, very surprised to see that her new sex therapists was a smoking hot librarian-type with legs for miles. She still didn't understand why her parents insist on therapy. Olivia was not troubled, like her parents say. She was just plain horny. All the time. Her pussy was permanently wet. In her mind, she thought she might as well put that to good use. Olivia sat down in front of Marilyn and lasciviously inspected Marilyn from head to toe.

Marilyn stared at the girl, whose eyes were on fire, as she felt Olivia undress her with her eyes. No wonder Dr. Hammond sent her over. He wouldn't have been able to withstand her sex-filled eyes for very long. Good thing her forward nature was to Marilyn's advantage in microtherapy. She was going to thoroughly enjoy taming this wild red head.

Marilyn walked around the desk and sat on the edge, her black pencil skirt riding up as she spread her legs a little. Olivia gripped the arms of the chair tightly, her knees coming together and her ass wiggling on the cushion.

“Look but don't touch,” was the first thing Marilyn said to the girl. Although Marilyn knew that Olivia was more experienced than a breeding mare, she played the part of young and inexperienced well. Except for her eyes. Olivia's eyes zoomed in on Marilyn's crotch the minute she spread her legs, and they remained there with a hungry expression, unmoving.

Using one manicured nail, Marilyn reached over to Olivia's face and ran her finger down her cheek to her chin. The girl's eyes never left the doctor's legs. Slowly, Marilyn lifted Olivia's face to look her in the eyes. Olivia did not resist exactly, but she struggled to keep looking down. The therapist in Marilyn knew that testing the girl this early in therapy could backfire, but Olivia was seriously addicted to sex. It was obvious and somewhat painful to watch. If this continued, Olivia would wind up as someone's sex slave or worse. Her parents were right to worry.

Marilyn held the girl's face up by her chin with just one finger. Olivia was a submissive. She wasn't going to fight her. Slowly, Marilyn got off the desk and slid down on her back, legs spread open, until she was at eye level with Olivia. Olivia's vivid green eyes fought to look down at Marilyn's crotch, now spread eagle, but her faced remained perched on the doctor's finger.

Olivia was in agony. One command and she was immobile. No one had ever held her in this state of heightened arousal and control. Olivia was accustomed to being the one in control, the one willingly giving up control when it suited her. This was different. The wetness between her legs began pooling on the leather chair and making her bare skin slippery under her miniskirt. For some reason, she had expected to be the one making her therapist squirm, like with Dr. Hammond. Man, was that guy gorgeous or what? Two sessions in and Dr. Married Man called Ms. Sexy Doctor and asked her to take over Olivia's case. He couldn't handle the miniskirts.

With her free hand, Marilyn reached into her bare pussy. She was soaking wet too and her fingers slipped easily into her cunt. With three fingers, Marilyn scooped up her own pussy juice and brought it up to Olivia's nose. The girl was now grinding on the chair, the puddle of juice visible between her legs.

Marilyn held her glistening fingers for Olivia to smell and heard the girl groan. Olivia never moved, but she did licked her lips as the juices began to run down her legs onto the floor. Marilyn smiled. She had subdued Olivia in less than 10 mins.

Straightening her skirt, Marilyn stood up and walked around her desk to the appointment book. Olivia sat there frozen and dripping pussy juice onto the carpet. Marilyn scanned her schedule and asked Olivia if tomorrow worked for their next appointment. The girl nodded a silent yes and stood up.

Marilyn walked up to Olivia and shoved her hand up the girl's miniskirt. Olivia's pussy was bare with puffy, swollen lips. With the same, single finger, Marilyn parted the girl's wet lips and forcefully thrust her finger into her hot opening. Olivia's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned a loud, “Yes!” Just as suddenly, Marilyn pulled her finger out and slid it into Olivia's mouth.

“If you promise not to have sex or masturbate until I tell you, your next therapy session will beTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.

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A couple or maybe three hours later from the ridge above George-town we could see the dark river, some glowing lamps and a few lighted windows. It must have been after midnight, and Billy had given me the job of counting people and finding Jim Griffith and Mike Ware. We huddled together to keep warm and smoked, chewed some food and stomped our feet. The wind had died down, but it was still very cold. We all breathed out clouds of steam like a herd of beeves. I found the men he wanted and...

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Beckwith was putting together a bunch to go down to the bridge and waved to me, "Caleb, he said, "Gus Yore hain't quite thawed yet. Why don't you go with these men and take charge of that bridge." I hated to do it, but I pulled on my coat and wool hat and picked up my rifle. We went out and found our beasts, folded their blankets back over their rumps and clattered down to the creek without seeing a soul along the streets except for our own people. Seemed like the town was empty or...

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Then things started happening pretty fast. Mr. Wainright said goodbye to the Swede; then I nodded a farewell to her and durn if she didn't get up on her toes and brush her soft lips against my stubbled cheek. Whooee. I went and called in the bridge guards, and they brought those four extra muskets with them. Somebody fetched the Foster women in their fancy pleasure carriage with the hickory-sprung seats, only one like it in town. Mrs. Foster was wearing a pelisse, plus a red hood with a...

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Billy went out into the cold as a couple of farmers came in. Stud explained what was going on to them as people moved around, and the Foster women took up a sheltered position in the high-backed settle near the fire. The cat joined them, purring, and perched on the girl's lap, paws folded inward. Didn't anybody look like they was going to cause trouble so after a bit I asked Annie if she was interested in a quick one while we waited, and she elbowed me in the ribs hard enough to crack one...

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The sun was setting behind some pink and gray clouds when we reached Mr. Peter's sturdy brick house. The first floor windows all showed candle light as Beall tied his horse to a weight and set it on the curbstone. "You plan to sit out here and wait?" he asked me. I couldn't figure if he wanted me to say yes so I said no, I'd rather get out of the cold. We went up to the door together and Beall knocked. A well-dressed, old black man answered and said, very polite, that Mr. Peter was at...

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"Damn," Billy Beckwith cursed. He jumped up, grabbed Jimmy by the arm and hustled him outside. Some men rushed to the windows and a couple hurried out the back door, but most just stood talking to each other and waiting. In a minute Beckwith stuck his head back inside and yelled, "Caleb!" I went out as Judge Peter said, "Let's have a short recess" and stood up. "Be upstanding," I heard Alex Beall say as the door closed behind me. Griffith had ridden in from the Bladensburg road and...

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The front door banged open again, and somebody stuck his head in and yelled, "Billy, they're here!" There was a loud scramble of men grabbing weapons and hurrying out the door while buttoning their coats one handed. Judge Peter said, "Let's take another brief recess. Mr. Morrison, a word, please" before Alex Beall could say anything about standing up. "I would appreciate it very much," Judge Peter said, standing at his desk with his feet planted wide apart and his hands clasped...

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"Gentlemen," said Judge Peter. "Enough. I think we will take a short recess here." "All stand," Beall cried too late as there was a mad scramble for the doors. Soon every tree, clump of shrubs and back house in the neighborhood had a crowd of men near it. I helped Judge Peter, robe and all, to the front of the line at the tavern's two-holed jakes, and he emerged gasping. "Haven't been in one that bad in years," he said when he got his breath back. When court resumed, a keg of ale...

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Zoe held Alison as she continued to sob quietly. The girl was so upset that her father could read in her thoughts that she would be incapable of following his instructions anytime soon. His connection to Zoe also informed him that she had no interest in him, in fact that was an understatement. His ghostly spirit departed, returning to his body which was lying on the sofa in the family room downstairs. Zoe comforted Alison, continuing to question her softly as to how her little body seemed to...

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The light was very dim inside, the only illumination coming from the streetlight that seemed miles away down the street. The older, decrepit building had indeed been an apartment at some point, although since then had fallen into great disrepair. The front door inside was off it's hinges and lay against the wall at an angle, the wood of it long since rotted through by termites and was dotted in what appeared to be bullet holes. Heading towards the shaky looking stairs, I noticed the graffiti...

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