Course Of Treatment free porn video

A few months ago, I would not have dreamed that I would be in this situation. Not that the situation is necessarily bad, but the utterly blatant ethical breaches that I have committed sometimes weigh heavily on my conscience. Were they to ever be revealed to the licensing board, my career as a clinical psychologist would come to an abrupt end.

I had settled into middle age cruise control. At fifty-four, I had been married nearly twenty-five years and practiced my profession from a small, suburban office with the utmost concern for my patients. The majority of problems my patients brought to me were eating or sleeping disorders, alcohol problems, marital discord, and "why isn't my kid normal?" syndrome. In most of those cases, the kids were normal; the problems rested with the parents.

I had concluded that the intimate side of my life was to continue to decline. I don't feel as old as I am. In fact, most people say I don't look nearly as old as I am. My wife, on the other hand, seems old. Her interest in intimate encounters diminished immensely after she had our first child. It has continued to decline in the past two decades. We have sex, but it is the same routine over and over again.

When I found myself losing my erection in the middle of the joyous act or, on rare occasions, failing to get erect at all, I diagnosed myself as simply bored with the repetition. My doctor agreed and prescribed the magic blue pills for me with unusual candor. He explained that many of his erectile dysfunction patients feel the same way. The pills work fine. We are able to satisfy each other. But there was not much more excitement than before; until six months ago when Lori Telson became my patient.

Since many of my patients work during the day, I routinely have appointments in the early evening. My receptionist schedules the appointments, but leaves the office at five. My calendar indicated that Ms. Telson wished to consult me about a personal matter that she would reveal "only to Dr. Gray." That wasn't out of the ordinary at all. Various patients are embarrassed to tell a woman over the phone that they have emotional or mental problems. Not that any of my patients are crazy - just disturbed.

Finishing up with a patient whom I'm helping get over the fact that his wife cheated on him, I ushered him into the reception area and saw Ms. Telson. As my patient exited, she turned her head at an almost impossible angle attempting to hide her face from him. Once he was gone, she turned toward me.

She did not look like a super model, porn star, or cover girl. She looked like a wholesome, attractive young lady whom you might see modeling sportswear in a department store advertising insert in the Sunday paper. He complexion was flawless. Her blonde hair shimmered. Her figure was not in any way voluptuous, but would turn the head of any man alive.

"Ms. Telson?" I asked, noticing for the first time her bright green eyes.

"Yes. Are you Dr. Gray?" she asked in a voice that could have come from a twelve year old schoolgirl. In fact, she looked like she could be anywhere from fifteen to twenty-two years old.

"I am. Good afternoon. Have you completed the medical history questionnaire?"

I assumed she had, since the clipboard was resting in her lap on her skirt. She extended her hand holding the questionnaire. Her fingers were slender and delicate. Her nails were perfectly manicured and painted white at the tips.

I opened the door to my inner office and, with a flowing arm gesture, invited her in. As she arose, I admired the tailored fit of her blouse; not overly revealing, but certainly enhancing her pert breasts and small waist. As she walked past me I caught the sweet scent of her young body. I didn't detect a perfume or cologne. It was more like a sweet, fresh powdery aroma. I motioned to the chair opposite my desk and she sat, crossing her legs in a very lady-like motion. The calf that extended below the hem of her skirt was shapely and smooth.

In reviewing her questionnaire, I learned that she was twenty, unmarried, had no family history of mental illness, and that her contact person was Robert Telson. I recognized him as the CEO of Telson Industries, one of the largest employers in the area. Telson was reputed to be the richest man in the state, having started a shipping palette factory years ago, and branching out into virtually every facet of shipping container manufacture.

I looked up at her, and she was pink. Not red or flushed, as if she were frightened or embarrassed, but pink. Her skin was glowing. She was indeed very pretty, but in an innocent, childlike way.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes." She paused and looked intently at me. "Dr. Gray, I have come to the conclusion that I have a problem and I need help." Her lower lip, adorned with a lipstick just a few shades pinker than the rest of her skin, was trembling slightly.

"I'll do what I can to help you." I thought perhaps she might begin to cry, which is not uncommon with first time patients. "Tell me about the problem you believe you have."

Her tongue slipped between her lips to wet them, and she swallowed hard. "What we say to each other is private?" Her head was slightly tilted to one side, making her question more of a plea than an inquiry.

"Everything we say is confidential. Only under extreme circumstances may I divulge information about our sessions."

"What extreme circumstances?" Her eyes had widened, and her breath rate appeared to increase.

"For instance, if you tell me you intend to murder someone. In our state, my obligation to society supersedes my obligation of confidentiality to you. Or, if it is my opinion that you need commitment to an institution, I will necessarily need to divulge confidential information about your case. Otherwise, I cannot reveal anything from our conversations, even if I'm subpoenaed to testify in court, unless you instruct me to do so."

She licked her lips again. She squinted at me, as if trying to fully understand. "You mean I could be committed?"

"I seriously doubt that. You appear to be a very levelheaded young lady. Commitment is recommended only in unusual cases."

"What happens in commitment?"

"Well, there is a court hearing where information about the patient is presented to a judge. If the judge decides that commitment is necessary, the patient is sent to an institution for treatment."

"For how long?"

"That depends on the severity of the patient's problem."

She was apparently considering my assurances for a few seconds. "Thank you,' she said, fidgeting in her seat.”I don't want anyone to know what we talk about. I don't even want anyone to know that I'm here," she declared, her voice still sounding girlish, but with an edge of desperation. "If I need to come and see you again, I will want to schedule my appointments so that no one else is in your office. I don't want to be seen or recognized." The depth of the expression on her face accentuated her beauty, making her look almost as old as her true age.

"I can assure you, I will reveal nothing about your sessions to anyone. I can arrange your appointments, if more are necessary, so that you will not encounter anyone in the reception area."

She seemed to consider my guarantee for a few seconds. She pressed her lips together tightly, exhaled from the bottom of her lungs, and uncrossed her legs. She scooted to the edge of the seat of her chair, and leaned toward me.

"I'm a slut," she stated, the corners of her lips turned down in a frown. "I have sex with every man I'm alone with. I can't control it. I crave it," she admitted, emphasizing the word 'crave' as if she were an addict describing her longing for her drug.

The immediate thought that raced into my mind was that she was alone with me in my office. The second was that, from her conservative appearance, she would be one of the last young women I would expect to be promiscuous. In fact, she was the epitome of the pure, intelligent, American coed.

"At first it didn't bother me because I enjoyed it so much. But now, I know it's wrong. I had myself tested for diseases and, thankfully, I'm completely clean. I want to stay that way. I don't want to be a slut anymore."

"How long have you felt this way?" I asked, using the usual routine of questions; never saying anything in early sessions that a patient might consider judgmental.

She sighed, apparently reluctant that she must tell me her story. "For about six months. My mother died when I was very young, and my father was very overprotective of me. I was tutored at home and rarely left our house." As she spoke, her head tilted down, and she focused her eyes on the carpet in front of her. "The only man who ever touched me when I was growing up was my father, and his touch was not very loving. I felt like he loved me, but all he did was try to protect me. I suppose he was afraid of losing me like he did my mother."

"Do you still live with your father?"

"No. That's really when this all started. When I turned nineteen, I thought had to be out in the world, on my own. I wanted to have friends. I wanted to be with people other than my father, my tutors, and the servants. He objected, of course, and we fought about it for months. I threatened to leave and refuse to tell him where I was going. But, finally I got my way." She continued to stare blankly at the floor.

"What are you doing now?"

She glanced up at me with an inquisitive look. "Doing?" She looked pensive as her mind developed a way to illustrate her answer. "I go shopping, I read, I go to museums, I eat out, just... live." She turned a palm up and tossed it to her side as if I should have known the answer. "You see, my father is a very rich man. I've never not gotten anything I wanted. When I left home, he reluctantly set up a monthly allowance for me. If you wanted to know if I had a job, no. I don't need one."

"Do you associate what you're feeling now with leaving home?" As soon as I finished speaking, her eyes went to the floor again.

"I got an apartment for myself. The first day I was there, I met another tenant in the entrance. He smiled at me so nicely that it made me feel warm inside. I thought maybe he would be the first friend I made in the real world. I agreed to go out with him that night. I didn't know how old he was. I still don't. He took me to a nice restaurant for dinner, then invited me to his apartment."

As she told the story, the pace of her words increased. Between sentences, she would lick her lips and flutter her eyelashes. Her brilliant green eyes seemed to glaze over.

"When we got there, we sat on a couch, and he just started kissing me immediately. It was the first time I had ever kissed anyone but my father or mother. It was, um, it was like a switch inside me turned on something I had never felt before. It's difficult to describe. My body wasn't my own. As we kissed, he took my clothes off and touched me everywhere. I wanted to be touched. I wanted to feel everything I could feel with him."

She slowly raised her head to look into my eyes. It may have been my imagination, but she appeared to be even pinker than before. Her breath rate once again increasing.

"Once his clothes were off, he moved between my legs. I didn't know what to do. I, I," she stammered, a bewildered look on her face, "wanted him. When he put himself inside me, I felt pressure, a little pain, and then, when he was all the way in, I had the most intense, unique, wonderful feeling I had ever had." Her expression was one of utmost honesty. "I realized that I had an orgasm almost immediately; just seconds after losing my virginity" Her eyes were glistening as she recalled the pleasure she had received. "I never, ever, ever imagined that something could feel so good. I think I had three or four orgasms that night. I stayed with him in his apartment that night and most of the next day doing nothing but begging him to make me feel that way again." I watched as her eyes wandered. It was as if she were just first noticing the details of my office.

"Are you still seeing this man?"

"No," she said, suddenly fixing her eyes on the carpet again. "He gave me to one of his friends."

"Gave you?" I inquired, feeling my face grimace with anger at the thought of treating this lovely girl so wretchedly.

"Well, I went to his apartment everyday for a couple weeks to have sex with him. Then, eventually, he wouldn't answer his door, or even answer my calls. For three days I didn't see him. I was going out of my mind wondering why he wouldn't want me. I needed him to make me feel..." her voice trailed off. "I saw him when the elevator door opened one day, and he tried to walk away like I wasn't even there. I pressed him for an explanation. He told me he had a girlfriend!" The look on her face showed that she was reliving a horribly life shattering event. "I didn't know what I would do. I needed someone to make me feel the way he did. I guess I thought I was in love with him. That was pretty stupid of me. He said he knew what I needed, and that he would have one of his friends call me."

If what she was telling me was true, it was clear that she was suffering, if you could call it that, from hyper sexuality: essentially sexual addiction. She was a classic case of what had historically been referred to as nymphomania. However, unlike common thought, nymphomaniacs do achieve orgasm. That is usually what drives them to continually seek sexual gratification. I had never before had a patient who, in my opinion, actually had such a condition.

"I waited for his friend to call me. I couldn't stand the waiting. I thought about just going out and finding a man to bring home for sex. Finally, his friend called, and I invited him to my apartment the very same night. From there it just spiraled as more and more men would call me once they heard about me from other men. I had sex almost every day for six months; sometimes with two or three men a day."

"Tell me about your feelings toward these men."

"Feelings?" she asked, her eyes widening. "Like love? They were men. I can't seem to help it. Every man who asks me out, every man who happens to be with me, I can't help it. I need them inside me. That's the only feeling I have.

"They didn't know me. I didn't need to have them know me anymore than I wanted to know them. Some of them... I didn't even know their names," she said with a look of shear embarrassment on her face. "But, about a week ago, I realized how they felt about me."

"Something important happened?"

"A guy I'd been with a few times invited me to his house. He had seemed like a nice guy and I had very good sex with him. When I arrived, he had four of his friends with him. At first, I thought that we would wait until they left to have sex. But, he just took my hand and we started off to the bedroom as he said something about giving the little girl what she needs. I was shocked that the other men would know what I was going to do with him."

"That shock is what made you decide to come to me?" She hesitated a few seconds before responding.

"Partly. He made me come a couple of times, and I thought I would be satisfied for the night when he had finished. But, he opened the door and called for the other men to come into the bedroom. He asked them, 'O.K, whose next?' Before I could comprehend what was happening, another man was inside me," she confessed, her lovely brow furrowed. "I was addicted. I had sex with all of them one after another; one twice. I had a dozen orgasms," she sighed. "At the time, I didn't comprehend how lascivious I was acting until I noticed one of the men holding a video camera. He was filming me having sex with several men!" The anger in her voice was evident. Her lower lip and jaw were trembling. "But, I didn't stop even then. I was enjoying it so much."

"But, in reflecting on that experience, you view it differently?"

"Oh, yes. When they were finished, I begged the guy to give me the video tape, but he just said, 'Fuck you, slut,'" she spat out the words in an attempt to imitate his tone of voice. "I realized, I am a slut. I realized it right then!" She squeezed her lips together tightly before continuing. "He said he would probably be able to sell the tape for lots of money. I finally paid him five thousand dollars for the tape. If my father ever knew about what I have done, I would have nothing. He would stop my money." Her expression revealed that the worst possible thing that could happen to her, other than going without sex, would be the loss of her father's fortune.

"The first step in changing your life is to realize that change is needed," I consoled.

"I've done that. I haven't been with a man in over a week. I can't stand it, but I haven't. I had my phone number changed so that they can't call me." She was turning pink again. She stared at me intently, with lust in her eyes. "Dr. Gray," she paused and swallowed, Dr. Gray, it's been... well, it's been a very difficult week," she admitted in a hoarse tone of voice.

I sympathized with her. From what she had told me of her immediate past, it must have been difficult indeed to totally refrain from sexual activity. As I looked at her, I could see a definite, evolving change in her physical demeanor. She shifted in her chair and struck a sexy, provocative pose. She crossed her legs and allowed her skirt to rise higher on her well-formed legs.

"Dr. Gray,’ she said in a soft whisper, “right now I want you to fuck me so much...I'm wet and I need a man inside me."

I had made a great effort to maintain a clinical attitude during her story. But, having such a lovely creature, obviously in a state of sexual arousal, come on to me like that was having quite an effect. My right hand, I noticed, had begun to tremble ever so slightly. I also felt a stirring between my legs.

"I have realized that I just can't stop 'cold turkey.' I need a man inside me. I need someone I can trust," she said, her voice lowering to a throaty, inviting murmur.

"I'm sure that is not the best course of therapy, Ms. Telson. Have you tried pleasuring yourself to ease the withdrawal?"

"Oh, yes," she lamented dejectedly. "I bought every vibrator and dildo on the market. I've poked and massaged myself until I was sore. Nothing works. For some reason I can't make myself come. I need a man's touch. I need a man's mouth on me or a man's cock in me to be satisfied. It's the only way. But, I need some sort of self-control. I don't want to be a slut, Dr. Gray." As she spoke her slender hands went to the buttons on her blouse. Staring longingly at me, she began to undo them slowly.

"Ms. Telson..."

"Call me Lori," she interrupted.

"Alright. Lori," I said, my mind stumbling for a professional comment to defuse the situation, "the relationship between a therapist and a patient must be based upon, ah, mutual trust. That trust is easily broken if a, ah, if any sort of physical relationship develops," I stammered, pleased that I could sound clinical even though I was becoming more and more aroused. She had the buttons released and was taking off her blouse. "I believe you should put your blouse back on for the rest of our session."

She extended her lower lip in a sort of pout, tilted her head slightly, and looked at me from under long, fluttering eyelashes. "But, I trust you. I've told you about myself so that you can help me. I want you to help me," she pleaded, slipping the blouse off her arms and reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. "You trust me, don't you? You trust me to change and get some self control, don't you, Doctor?" With that the bra was released and she removed it with a sensual flair.

Her breasts were somewhat small and attractively round; obviously natural, with small, upturned nipples that were deep pink. I needed no little blue pill to come to a full erection at the sight of her half nude body. I again tried to formulate an appropriate statement with which to respond, but couldn't take my eyes off of her as she stood and began to unzip her skirt.

"Lori, I do trust that you want to change, and I'm glad that you trust me. But, as your therapist, I cannot allow you to continue."

"You can't allow me to, but you want me too, don't you?" she slid the skirt down over her narrow, smooth hips to reveal silky, low cut, white panties. She was indeed wet, as she had confessed. The small cotton patch at the crotch was dark from her lubrication. "I need you, Dr. Gray. I need you to help me." She slowly lowered the panties down her flawless legs. "If I don't get your help, I'll probably fall back into the same routine I've lived in for the last several months. Please don't make me do that," she whimpered, revealing why she had probably always gotten what she wanted from her father.

She was beautiful. Standing naked just on the other side of my desk. Her pretty face and young, petite body looked virginal, although I knew she had probably more sexual experience than I had had in more than twice her years.

I couldn't think straight. The blood flow through my penis felt like it was straining the surrounding skin. I knew this should not be happening, but could not concentrate on anything but the youthful beauty who wanted me. Sure, she was at a disadvantage because I knew of her addiction. But, there was no methadone that could be prescribed to alleviate her symptoms of withdrawal. Suddenly, I had a professional, rather than carnal, idea slip into my head.

"Lori," I began as she started to move gracefully around my desk, "before this goes any further, I think I should refer you to a female therapist. In fact, I'm surprised you didn't choose one to begin with."

She gracefully floated around my desk, knelt on her knees next to my chair, took one of its arms in her hand, and tried to swivel it so that I was facing her. In my mind, I was trying to keep the chair from turning, but physically I put up no restraint.

"But," she paused, looking at my crotch, briefly noticing my erection before turning her brilliant green eyes to mine, "do you know how hard it was to tell you why I need help? I've already told you. I don't want to tell someone else." she said, turning the chair slowly. "Another woman wouldn't understand. Other women don't have the cravings I have for sex." She had turned my chair and was beginning to stroke my calves through the fabric of my slacks. "A woman would just think I'm a slut. I don't think I could trust a woman to truly help me."

I gave in. I know I shouldn't have. I know I put my professional and personal life in incredible jeopardy, but I gave in. Thoughts flashed through my head as she began to run her small, soft hands up my thighs. She wanted self-control. But, I knew I needed to be in control of this situation as much as possible for my own protection. I wanted to help her, and figured that I could, while taking advantage of a once in a lifetime opportunity: a beautiful, young, incredibly rich girl who wanted my professional and sexual services.

"Lori, I will help you if you agree to explicitly follow my instructions on a course of treatment," I said with as much conviction as possible in my voice. She was staring at the bulge in my pants as she placed her hands gently on my erection, then raised her beautiful eyes toward my face. "You must agree to do everything I tell you to do."

"I will," she half whispered in a sexy voice. "You're going to help me."

"I will. But, you must agree that you will not tell anyone about your therapy here." She had grasped the zipper of my pants and started to lower it slowly.

"I told you, I don't want anyone to even know I'm seeing a shrink."

"You must do exactly as I instruct you to have any success. Exactly," I said as firmly as I could.

The zipper was all the way down, and she started to reach into my shorts to withdraw what she wanted so dearly. "Please don't have me committed to an insane asylum, Dr. Gray."

With that comment, I knew that I had her where I needed her to protect myself. Her fear of disclosure of her past to her father was probably greater than the thought of being institutionalized. As long as she had the fear of possible exposure, I could probably keep her under control.

"I'll do everything I can to prevent that, Lori," I said as sincerely as possible. "Your course of treatment may take several months to be sure that you achieve your goal."

I involuntarily raised my hips as her warm fingers gently pulled my organ through the fly of my pants. It was as hard as I could remember. Having subjectively satisfied my concerns about possibly wrecking my entire life, I could turn my attention to the pink nymph between my legs. Her hands were so small and delicate. Her tiny wrists were about the diameter of my erection. She gazed at it hungrily and her eyes widened in anticipation.

"Do you understand, Lori?"

She looked up at me and licked her lips. "Whatever it takes." She looked back between my legs, then into my eyes again. "You have a very big cock, Dr. Gray. It's beautiful. Thank you for letting me have it."

I considered her comment a compliment, having seen any other erect penises since my adolescence. Her fragile face was inches from my cock. She leaned closer, licked her lips again until they were slick with her saliva, and opened her mouth. She began stroking my scrotum with her hands.

"Stop," I said. I reached down and held her face tenderly in my hands. I obviously wanted what she was offering, but not until I had tasted the sweetness of her lips. Prompting her to rise higher on her knees, I leaned toward her. She kissed me with more passion than I have ever received from a woman. Her lips were softer than I could imagine. Her tongue darted into my mouth like a hungry snake searching for its prey.

We continued to kiss as she fondled my balls. I lowered my hands to feel her breasts. I was surprised to find her nipples rock hard and extending well over half an inch from her areolas. She moaned in her twelve-year-old girl sounding voice as I teased the nipples with my fingers.

She withdrew her lips from mine, stared into my eyes, and whispered, "I can't wait much longer, Dr. Gray."

She lowered her head and kissed the very tip of my cock. It flexed involuntarily in reaction. Still looking straight into my eyes, she lowered her head even more, stuck out her pink tongue, and licked from the middle of my scrotum up the underside of my cock. It was heavenly. Still gazing at me with her eyes wide open, she plunged her warm mouth down and began bobbing her head in quick movements.

I couldn't remember when I had enjoyed such enthusiastic oral treatment. I was reaching a high state of arousal when she began to moan with each downward stroke of her incredibly soft mouth. If she wanted me inside her, I needed to end this luscious activity right away before I reached the point of no return.

Grasping her soft face again, I said, "Lori, that is fantastic, but if you keep doing that, you'll make me come very quickly."

She slowly raised her mouth from me, a strand of saliva trailed from her lower lip to the head of my erection. She stood, and I pulled her to me for another passionate kiss. With quick movements, she tended to my belt and the snap of my trousers. Once they were open, she dropped to her knees once more and removed my shoes and socks. I lifted myself from the chair, and she pulled the clothes from my body. I hadn't had a woman undress me in more years than I could remember.

She stood again, and I arose from my chair. She pulled at my tie as she placed her mouth on my neck; licking and kissing it with her warm, wet tongue. She continued to moan through her nose as she released the tie and deftly began unbuttoning my shirt.

"I need you Dr. Gray. Please?" she pleaded against the skin of my neck, "Please, give me what I need."

As the buttons were released she kissed down my neck to my chest, I took the opportunity to undo the buttons at my cuffs just as she completed her task. She threw open my shirt and pulled it off of me. We were both naked, and she pulled me against her warm tight body.

I was mesmerized by the feeling of her petite, feminine form pressed against me. My wife's body had long ago lost the smooth firmness that I felt in my arms at that moment. Since she was more than a foot shorter than I am, my cock was pressed against the silky smooth skin of her flat stomach.

"Now, Dr. Gray," she purred, separating herself from me and sitting on the edge of my desk. "Please, I need you inside me," she begged, a longing look of desire on her face. "And, don't worry, I'm on the pill."

"Nothing to worry about, at all," I replied. "I've had a vasectomy."

She reclined onto her elbows and spread her beautiful legs, inviting me into her. I moved between her legs, and she grasped my cock with her left hand. She guided it toward her open labia. I glanced down and saw them for the first time. The lips were deep pink and glistening with lubrication. There was a small wisp of fine, blonde hair above them.

"All the way in, please? Very slowly," she instructed me.

I moved forward and arched my hips as I did what she requested. The sensations of her warmth and tightness were exhilarating. As I slid completely into her in a slow fluid motion her lips formed into a small circle and she cooed softly. Then, she began to move her hips in slow, small circles.

"Oh, yes," she moaned. That's it! Ohhhhhh, yes!"

As she moaned for the next several seconds, I suspected that she had had an immediate orgasm. She grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to her open mouth, kissing me passionately. When she broke the kiss, she lay out fully on my desk, my cock still buried and motionless inside her, raised her legs and placed her feet on the edge of my desk.

"The first one is always so satisfying," she commented. The dreamy haze of afterglow in her eyes reinforced my suspicion that she had climaxed. "You did just what I wanted. Fuck me, Dr. Gray. Keep making me come," she hissed through her teeth as she began to rock her hips.

I stood between her legs, her body perpendicular to mine, partially withdrew from her wet passageway, then entered her fully again. I tried to go slowly, knowing that the magnificent excitement I was feeling in copulating with this stunning girl would cause me to reach my peak much sooner than I was accustomed with my wife.

I repeated the short thrusts several times and a long moan, which seemed to originate deep in her lungs, escaped her mouth. She lifted her buttocks up off the desk, and bucked her hips up and down.

"Yes, yes, yeeeeeesssssss," she cried as she threw her arms back above her head. "God, yes, that's good!"

Her second orgasm seemed to be deeper and longer than her first. I was in paradise, having pleasured this young vixen twice within one minute of coupling with her. She looked so gorgeous writhing against me in orgasmic abandon. I began to thrust harder and faster, pulling my cock nearly all the way out before plunging again.

"Thank you, Doctor. You fill me up so completely," she cooed, "Your cock is sooooo nice and big."

Through the fantastic sensual pleasure filling my mind I wondered what revelations I might obtain about her sexual addiction from this intimate act. I found another reason to extend our unison as long as possible to study her reactions.

She reached her pinnacle two more times, each seemingly stronger than the first. It dawned on me that she was experiencing purely vaginal orgasms, with virtually no stimulation of her clitoris. I knew that, statistically, fewer than thirty percent of women surveyed by medical researchers responded that they could achieve orgasm without clitoral stimulation. I had an idea that I wanted to experiment with, and, from a personal standpoint, an experience I wanted have.

I leaned down and took one of her nipples in my mouth. It was stiff and long. I kissed down her chest, across her stomach, and, slowly removing my erection from her, kissed her abdomen.

"Oh, don't take it out yet, please," she implored me. "You haven't come yet, Doctor."

I lowered myself to my knees, held the insides of her thighs, and placed a soft kiss on her clitoris. In response, she grasped her legs behind her knees and pulled her legs up until they were vertical. Although I hadn't serviced a woman in this way in sometime, my wife developing an aversion to it many years ago, I did my best to suckle and lick what is reputed to be the most sensitive feminine body part.

"Oh, God, Doctor," she shouted. "I love that. Yes, you do that so well." She released her grip on her legs, wrapped them around my back, and ran her fingers through my hair as she continued to urge me on. "That's so good. Oh, that's good. Just like that. Just like, ohhhhhhhhhhh yeeeeeeessssssssssss!' she squealed as yet another orgasm swept through her body.

I had confirmed that she was capable of experiencing sexual climax from both forms of stimulation. It was difficult to tell whether her response was stronger either way.

Just as her crescendo ebbed, she yelled, "Put your cock back in me!"

I stood again, and drove it deep inside her. After several thrusts, she was grunting unintelligibly, forcing her hips forward to match my rhythm. I was fucking her faster and harder than I had my wife in decades.

I felt my orgasm building. Rising from my thighs and descending from my abdomen. Lori must have realized I was close. She peered into my eyes, her nostrils flaring and her mouth agape.

"Come with me this time. I want to feel you come inside me. Yes, Doctor, I want it," she coaxed in a half whisper.

The sensations met in my groin, and I knew the muscles around my prostate would soon be clenching spasmodically. Lori began to moan, and raised herself up on her hands to bring her face closer to mine.

"Now, oh God yes, now!" she screamed. I could feel the hot sweetness of her breath on my lips from her telltale moans of orgasmic fulfillment. This climax felt and sounded deeper, more intense, than the others.

As she began to quiet down, streams of semen darted through my duct in blissful discharge. It was glorious. It was like the happiest ending to a fairy tale. A dream girl comes to my office, and within an hour I am ejaculating into her slim body with the greatest sexual release I could remember.

I was panting when I opened my eyes and looked at Lori. She had a satisfied grin on her face, a face that was pinker than I had remembered. She took my upper lip in her mouth and played on it with her tongue.

"That was great, Doctor," she whispered. "Thank you. You made me feel wonderful."

"I felt wonderful as well," I admitted, still breathing heavily and somewhat shaking in my knees.

I moved back a step, withdrawing from her warm clutch, and Lori slithered her way off the desk and smoothly pushed me into my chair. She dropped to her knees and, in one fluid motion, slipped her mouth over my withering erection.

I find that my penis is extremely sensitive after ejaculating, and jumped when she wrapped her lips around it. I let her suck it for half a minute, but it was more painful than stimulating. I lightly grasped her head to pull her off my cock.

She looked up at me with a frown. "I want to make you hard again so that we can do some more."

"Lori," I said, "I'm afraid that is about it for me this evening. I'm not so young anymore," I admitted, caressing her cheek as I gazed down on her loveliness.

"Okay," she said, getting up and moving to where her clothes lay on the floor. She snatched some tissues from the box at the corner of my desk and placed them between her legs to catch the semen flowing out of her.

Not only did she not anticipate any non-sexual foreplay, diving straight for my cock without so much as a kiss or hug, she did not seem interested in any after-play. I assumed that she had been conditioned by her encounters with who knows how many men to merely satisfy herself and her partner in sexual abandon without any other showing of intimacy.

"Lori," I said softly, causing her to turn and face me.

"Change your mind?" she asked with an excited gleam in her eyes. "Want me to try to get you hard again?"

"No," I replied. "I want to express my gratitude for what we experienced together."

"Great. It was really great for me, too," she said, arching her eyebrows and reaching down for her clothes.

"Come here," I implored. She stepped to me and I embraced her tenderly, kissing her on the cheek. "Do you still trust me, Lori?" I asked softly, holding her in my arms.

"Yes, Dr. Gray. I want your help," she responded. She slowly raised her arms and placed them around my neck.

"Then, there are some things I will ask you to do."

Although she had been as eager as a siren to couple with me, it seemed that she was uncomfortable with physical contact now that her needs had been fulfilled. I paused before giving her instructions to allow her to become accustomed to cuddling with me.

"First, I want you to stop taking the birth control pills when the next cycle ends. The hormones in the pills could be hindering your overall mental wellbeing."

She pulled away slightly and looked up at me, horrified. "But, what if I...?"

"You won't," I interrupted. "You won't because you will follow all of my instructions, correct?" I could see the fear in her eyes evaporate.

"Yes," she said laying her charming head against my shoulder.

"Next, you have shown your willpower in avoiding contact with men for a week prior to this session. Therefore, you will avoid all physical contact, and especially sexual contact with men, until our next session."

"But when will that be?" she asked anxiously.

"Can you wait another week?"

"I, I," she stuttered; then went quiet for a few seconds. "It was a really difficult week, Doctor. I almost didn't make it. Could we start with shorter times? Then see how I do?"

My heart raced. I was already contemplating our next session, looking forward to more of what I had just experienced with her. Part of my responsibility is to relieve or minimize the mental suffering and anguish of my patients. I could imagine what it must have been like for her in the days leading up to her appointment. Besides, I didn't know if I could wait another week to be with her.

"How about Thursday? That would be three days," she said in a vibrant, wishful tone of voice.

"Let me check my calendar," I said, reaching with my right hand to tickle the keyboard of my computer. Checking my schedule, I replied, "Thursday at six o'clock. My last patient that day will be leaving at five forty-five."

"Alright. I'll be here,' she said with concern in her voice. With that, she kissed me on the cheek and headed for her clothes.

I watched her dress, still not comprehending the extent of pleasure I had just experienced. We dressed without any further conversation until she was prepared to leave. Once again, in her conservative outfit, she looked as fresh and sophisticated, certainly not like a self-proclaimed slut.

"Well, Doctor, I trust you to help me. I hope I'm doing the right thing."

"Just remember my instructions, Lori," I told her with a reassuring smile.

When she left I finished dressing. As I did so, I began to tremble with guilt and fear. I wondered if I was actually making her mental condition worse by taking advantage of her. I began to feel more concern for her than the fear I had felt for my future. I owed her the professional obligation of diligently attempting to resolve a condition that was obviously causing her great anguish. At the same time, deep within me, I was already looking forward to her next appointment; looking forward to the feeling of her vagina contracting around my cock as she exploded in orgasm.




Over the next two days, I spent every free moment researching sexual addiction; looking for its cause and acceptable treatments. Of course, I did not find one case study in which having carnal relations with the patient was condoned or even suggested. But I gained an abundance of knowledge on the subject. Because our session had advanced so quickly to physical contact, I realized that I actually knew very little about her background that could lead to a foundation for traditional treatment. However, I formulated a plan to hopefully draw out her feelings and thoughts about the root cause of her condition.

I didn't have sex with my wife for the next three days. She didn't come on to me, which is typical, and I didn't approach her. When Thursday rolled around, I found it difficult to concentrate on my patients during their sessions. I nodded knowingly as I listened to their confessions, but my mind was on my last patient of the day.

Around five, I made a drastic decision. I knew I wouldn't need it to enjoy the pleasures of her body but, wondering if the experience would be enhanced as it often is with my wife, I took one of the pills I had received from my doctor. By five-thirty, I was feeling flushed, knowing that the drug had already begun to affect me.

Just after six I heard to door to the outer office open. I arose and went through the door to encounter Lori. She was wearing a pink sweater blouse, virtually the same color as her impeccable skin, which extended about two inches below the waist of a black skirt that was cut about an inch above her knees. Black open-toe pumps with heels about two inches high accentuated her shapely calves. Her nails were pink this time, matching her sweater. Pink pearl earrings, the only jewelry she wore, dangled from her ears.

"Hello, Lori," I greeted her.

"Hello, Dr. Gray," she said. The look on her face was a mixture of anxiety and relief. "I'm really glad I'm finally here again." A small grin appeared as she fluttered her eyelashes at me.

She came closer, lifted herself on her toes, and kissed me; not passionately, but certainly more enticing than a friendly greeting. I motioned toward my inner office and followed her in. She took her seat and I positioned myself in my chair behind the desk. Her appearance, her kiss, and the anticipation of what might follow, combined with the effect of the medicine, caused my penis to enlarge immediately.

"How have you been since we last met?"

"I've been on edge, to tell you the truth. I didn't think I'd make it." Her lower lip was trembling ever so slightly. "I almost," she paused and looked at the floor for a moment, "called you yesterday to see if I could see you sooner. Now that I'm here, I guess I'm relieved." She raised her eyes toward me. I could see the hunger in them. Her expression showed the lust she must have been feeling.

"Have you followed my instructions?"

"Yes. I've kept myself busy. I've stayed away from men."

"Congratulations! That's a great start."

"I'm trying."

"Lori, you had mentioned that your mother had passed away. How old were you?"

"Six. I remember her, but as I grow older those memories become vaguer."

"What do you remember?"

"I remember sitting on her lap. I remember her reading to me while we cuddled in my bed. Just things like that."

"Do you feel that you have gotten over her death?"

"Well," she paused to consider her answer, glancing again at the floor. "I assume so. I mean, I don't really think about her at all anymore."

"So, you feel you have dealt with your loss?"

"Yes," she said, looking at me again with desire in her gleaming green eyes.

"And, you mentioned that you know that your father loves you. Could you explain that to me?"

She looked at the floor and sighed deeply, crossing her left leg over her right. My erection stirred when I saw more of the smooth, pink, legs that I hoped would soon be wrapped around my waist.

"He must love me. All fathers love their children."

"You believe that to be true?"

"It is, isn't it?" she asked, tilting her head to one side as if questioning her opinion. "And, all children love their parents."

She was a beautiful young woman in so many ways. But, I was beginning to realize, she was an innocent, naïve child in many others. As I looked at her my erection was throbbing.

"Dr. Gray," she blurted, louder than necessary. "You cuddled with me like my mother did after we..." she allowed her voice to trail off.

"After we what?"

"After you fucked me," she replied. The sound of her voice had become breathy and provocative. Her flawless complexion began to turn even pinker.

"Didn't the other men you've been with cuddle with you?"

"A few, I guess. Most of them just..." her voice trailed off again, and she looked down at the floor. "I'm pretty sure many of them had wives or girl friends. They'd tell me how great I was and ask about when we could get together again, but..."

"How did cuddling with me make you feel?"

She looked up at me, and licked her lips. She had a sultry, wanton look on her face. "Dr. Gray, I need you now. Please?" she pleaded. "I don't want to wait any longer."

"But, Lori, you haven't answered my question." It took will power to continue our dialogue when I wanted her certainly as much as she wanted me.

"Cuddling?"

"Yes."

"It made me feel safe. It made me feel," she paused, "content, I guess."

It felt as if my cock had never before in my life been so solid and large. My face must have betrayed my endeavor to continue our verbal interchange. She arose from her chair and moved slowly around my desk. This time, I didn't wait for her to try to move my chair. I swung it around and stood to meet her.

She threw her arms around my neck as I pulled her diminutive body to mine. My cock twitched when I felt her sweet, wet lips and her tongue enter my mouth. I closed my eyes and reveled in the warmth of her tight, lean figure. I ran my hands over her back and buttocks.

She withdrew from our kiss and said, "You like to kiss before we start, right?"

"I'd kiss you anytime," I said, pulling her toward me again to taste her succulent mouth.

"I want you, Doctor. Please want me," she declared once our lips were parted. "I need you to want me."

She knelt before me and swiftly unhooked my belt. I gazed down at her, anticipating her next move. As she attended to my zipper, it dawned on me what she had just said was quite an admission. She needed to be wanted; whether by me or some man who was only interested in an occasional quickie. Everyone needs to be wanted on some level. For Lori, that level was sexual. It may have been the only way in her mind that she could be wanted. Coupled with her uncanny ability to take pleasure in multiple orgasms, it was reasonable to assume that she could become hooked on sex as a means of satisfying that basic human requirement.

My analysis of her mental state was interrupted when she lowered my pants and shorts to the floor. My cock, appearing huge even to me, hovered just in front of her striking face. She gazed at it like someone who had been lost in the desert for days and just found a tall glass of ice water.

"Dr. Gray," she moaned, "your cock is so long and thick." She looked up at me with her eyes wide. "Last time, it filled me so nicely. I love the way your cock feels inside me."

She wasted no more time. She flicked her tongue around the head of my cock while her hands cupped my scrotum. She lowered her head and, placing both hands around my shaft, one above the other, licked my balls in slow, wet strokes. She peered up at me and extended her thin, little pink tongue about as far as it would go. Stroking me with both hands, she teased my balls with its tip, never taking her eyes off mine.

She slowly pulled her head back, allowing a thin string of saliva to extend from her lips to my scrotum until it snapped. "Your cock seems even bigger and harder than last time," she said just before tickling me again with her tongue. "I want your big cock inside me. Please tell me you'll put it inside me and make me cum," she appealed in that sexy, twelve-year-old girl voice.

"Oh, I'll do just that," I replied, never taking my eyes of the vision of her youthful loveliness stimulating me.

Still peering at me, she rose up and licked the head of my cock with lavish strokes. It was as if the head was a scoop of ice cream, the shaft a cone, and she was lapping the melting confection to keep it from dripping onto her hand. She cupped one of my balls in each hand and placed her mouth just above my straining erection. Opening her lips, she allowed about a teaspoonful of saliva to dribble onto me.

"Do you like it really wet?" she asked in a near whisper.

"Yes, Lori," I groaned, "I like it anyway you want to do it."

Closing her eyes she slid her pink lips down my shaft. The feeling of her hot mouth was as glorious as I had remembered. She began pumping her head up and down. The sound of the sloshing liquid between her lips and my flesh filled the room.

Whoever might have coached her in giving oral pleasure to men had done an award-winning job. She kept going lower and lower, taking me deeper into her mouth until it seemed an anatomical impossibility. With her left hand squeezing tightly at the base of my cock, she held my scrotum in the palm of her right while her fingers, slippery with saliva, kneaded my perineum.

Soft gagging sounds came from her throat as she slowly lowered her head until I felt the crown of my cock slip into her throat. She continued until her lips reached my pubic hair, nearly reaching my pelvic mound. She stayed there for a few seconds, and it felt like she was swallowing, or attempting to do so, while breathing heavily through her nose. Ever so slowly again she raised her head pulling her lips off of me.

"My God, Lori, that is amazing," I commented with a smile.

Thick streams of saliva dripped from her lips to my cock. Pausing briefly to look up at me with a beguiling expression, she quickly began bobbing her head up and down on me, still manipulating my balls and perineum with her hands and fingers. The stimulation was indescribable.

"Lori, if you keep doing that..." I commented, too overwhelmed with excitement to finish my sentence. "Lori!" I cried, placing my hands at either side of her head to stop her momentum.

She released me and paused with her lips just touching the underside of the tip of my cock. Seeing her small face there, it indeed seemed inconceivable that she could get my entire length into her mouth and throat.

"Do you want me to make you come this way?" she asked, the movements of her lips nuzzling my cock as she spoke.

I considered quickly whether it would be the proper thing to do. If I let her continue and I was unable to achieve another erection, she would be denied one of the things she had obviously counted on me to provide. I wondered how that would affect her. Would she return again for more treatment? But, with the medicine causing blood to fill my penis so efficiently, and the thought of the pure joy of feeling myself inside her again, I was selfishly willing to risk the consequences.

"I'd love that," I said, hoping I wouldn't regret my decision.

"You'll still fuck me, won't you?" she asked with a fleeting glare of desperation.

"I'll do my best."

With a gleam in her eye, she plunged her mouth down on me again, sliding her lips up and down in long, quick strokes. She continued to massage me with her hands, adding to the immense rush of pleasure. I could feel the tingle begin in my groin, when she slid her right hand back and I felt one of her wet fingers against my anus.

She played with my sphincter for a minute or so, then inserted her slender finger. An inch or so inside me I felt her deftly pressing against my prostate, moving her finger in small arcs. Her tongue was swirling against my sensitive skin. The vibration of her high pitched squeals added even more sensation.

The combination of stimuli brought me over the edge. A wave of orgasmic pleasure pervaded my body, and I felt powerful pulses of semen shoot through my cock. It was as if time stood still. Lori continued to suck me with long, deep strokes. Her finger continued to deftly massage my throbbing prostate. I could count the squirts as they spewed into her mouth. It was by far the longest and strongest climax I had ever had.

I realized suddenly that I had been grunting uncontrollably during my ejaculation. I was puffing for breath and my legs felt weak. I awkwardly sat back down in my chair, trying to regain my composure.

Lori gradually slowed her pace, and kept me in her mouth as I sat in rapture. She moaned in satisfaction and moved her tongue against me with slight pressure. She removed her finger, and toyed gently with my balls.

I looked down at her. Her sweet face had a glow of accomplishment. She gazed up at me as if I were a God and she had gained my favor by pleasing me so thoroughly. The analytical portion of my mind, which had been noticeably absent for about the last fifteen minutes, considered that she had performed so adeptly in an effort to make me want her. She wanted the only form of affection she had ever known - a man's cock inside her to make her have orgasms.

But, I wondered, was that the only response she wanted? If so, why? It would seem that her life would be hollow if the only thing she sought was sexual gratification. Surely, on some emotional level she must want, and need, more than that.

She moved her mouth off of me and snuggled her head against my naked thigh. "I think you liked that," she commented with a smirk. "Is there a bathroom in your office?"

I motioned toward the door behind her. "There are wash clothes and towels in the cabinet below the sink."

She jumped to her feet and ran on her tiptoes to the door. I heard water running for nearly a minute until she returned. She came to me with a warm, moist towel. She washed my face with it, and then knelt before me again. With soothing swipes of the towel, she cleansed my entire pubic area, including my ass.

"Feel good?" she asked.

"Ummmmmm," is all I could get out in response. I watched her contentedly, and noticed that my erection had not subsided nearly as much as I thought it would have. I also noticed how silly I looked with my shoes still on and my pants around my ankles.

"Shall I wash these out and hang them on the towel rack?"

"Sure," I said.

Scampering hurriedly back from the bathroom, she stood next to me, leaning against my desk. She stroked my hair with one hand and began unbuttoning her sweater with the other.

"Wait," I said, "may I do that for you?"

"If you want to. Making you come in my mouth has made me wet, Dr. Gray," she said in a sultry half whisper. "Will you....?" She paused and gazed at me.

"Will I what?"

"Will you lick my pussy before you fuck me; the way you did the last time? I, um, well, I really liked that." She again sounded like a twelve-year-old.

"I'd be glad to." I broke eye contact to begin removing my shoes.

"I'll do that," she demanded. With a graceful motion she was once again kneeling before me. With nimble fingers she had my shoes off my feet and my pants off my legs within a minute. Pushing them aside on the floor, she raised her right hand and traced the length of my half-erect penis with her fingernails in a gesture of reverence. It involuntarily twitched in response. "You are going to put this inside me, aren't you, Doctor?" Her voice had a pleading inflection.

I grinned. Notwithstanding her innocent appearance, she was incredibly sexy in voicing her desires. I wondered why none of her previous encounters had resulted in a long-term affair. Perhaps, I thought, she was entirely too easy. Her forthright willingness may have ruined other men’s’ desire for the hunt.

"I told you. I'll give it my best try," I answered, growing more confident that I would, indeed, be physically capable of performing as she wished.

I stood and removed my shirt. Laying it over the back of my chair, I took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Placing one arm under her shoulder, I bent and lifted her with the other. She responded by kissing me passionately as I carried her toward the sofa near the wall of the office opposite my desk. Her body was lithe and light. She couldn't have weighed more than one hundred pounds.

"Oooo, you swept me away, Dr. Gray." She said as I dropped her to her feet in front of the sofa. I began the process of undoing the buttons on her sweater. The material felt luxurious against her breasts and abdomen. Once completed, I slid the sweater off her shoulders and down her slender arms. I couldn't resist kissing and licking the tender cleft where her collarbone met her neck.

I began to fidget with the clasp of her bra when I heard the sound of a zipper. She was apparently so overly anxious for my attention that she removed her own skirt. I felt it against my leg as she kicked it away, then felt the softness of her panties as she danced awkwardly to step out of them. That done, she reached behind her and easily mastered the bra closure that had me flustered.

Naked, she pulled away and reclined on the sofa, pushing her butt to the edge and spreading her lovely legs wide apart. She reached for me with both arms outstretched, inviting me to her yielding body. Beholding the beautiful young woman lying in submission, waiting for my attention, longing for me to give her pleasure, my cock grew harder by the second. When I fell to my knees between her legs, she clutched my head in her hands and began to guide it toward her vulva.
I resisted and instead raised myself over her, kissing her forehead tenderly. I moved my mouth down her nose and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Moving slowly, I nuzzled over her chin, down her neck, and approached her chest.

"You really like to kiss, don't you, Doctor?"

I raised my head to look at her. "I like to kiss you, Lori," I said with assurance, looking up at her lust filled eyes. "Do you like to kiss?" I asked, running my fingers over her breasts with a feather-like touch.

Her mouth opened and she slipped her tongue between her pink lips to moisten them. "I...I guess I'm beginning to like it more. It was just something I thought guys wanted to do to get ready for..."

My analytical mind was kicking in again. She was, indeed, addicted. Not to intimacy, but solely to the physical act; an act that could give her the sexual release she had come to long for in the past months. Gazing down at her adorable, pink, youthful body, I realized the extent of control I had gained over her. Granted, I used control over other patients to modify their behaviors, but Lori had successfully resisted any attempt to copulate with another man based upon my advice. I wondered if she relied upon that advice from a professional standpoint, or from the unspoken promise that if she succeeded, she would be rewarded at this appointment with satisfaction of her desire.

I ran my hands lightly over her stomach toward her abdomen. I wanted to continue our dialogue while providing her with stimulation. She seemed so vulnerable, so open, when she was aroused.

"What do you feel when you kiss me?"

"It feels so good, your warm mouth and tongue..."

"No," I interrupted, "what do you feel emotionally?" I asked, running my hands ever so much closer to her wet opening. My question washed the look of passion off her face. It was replaced by a quizzical smirk.

"Emotionally?" she pondered. She sucked air into her lungs with a barely audible hiss when my thumb brushed across her wet, engorged clitoris. "When I kiss you? When I kiss you I feel like you really care about me."

I moved both thumbs to her swollen button and massaged it softly. "What did you feel, emotionally again, when you kissed the men before me?"

"Doctor," she said, her hips beginning to writhe involuntarily, "that feels so good. I've waited so long. Can we talk about this later?"

"I won't make you wait much longer," I assured her, my cock throbbing with every beat of my heart.

"With Dan, the first guy I met, I felt about the same way. I thought he cared about me. I wanted to kiss him to show that I cared about him." Her eyelids were only half-open as she rushed to higher arousal. "With most of the other men, I sometimes didn't care at all. It was something I just...did. It was something I thought I should do, even though with some of them, I didn't...Oh, God, Doctor Gray, that feels soooooo good."

"You didn't what?" I asked, probing for a more elaborate response.

"I didn't really want to kiss them," she replied, panting between words.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"Oh, yes. I like kissing you. I like to be kissed by you, too."

Her answer was satisfying on two levels. From a professional approach, she felt an emotional tie between sensual touching and the person touching her. From a personal approach, she cared about me. This beautiful young girl wanted me for more than she had wanted most of the other sex partners she had had.

I lowered my head and kissed her belly as I continued to massage her. I trailed my tongue down her abdomen, over her soft tress of pubic hair. Moving my hands outward to the insides of her thighs, I kissed her love bud gently. It seemed much larger and harder than I remembered from those few days ago. I spread my lips farther apart to surround the erogenous area and licked her swollen knob.

"Oh, God! You do that so well," she cried, placing a hand at the back of my head.

I looked up to see her skin tone becoming even pinker again. She had closed her eyes. Her narrow lips slowly opened until I could see all of her sparkling, white teeth. Then, suddenly, as if operated by a switch, she opened her eyes wide