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...

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...

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 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 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...

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...

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...

The doorbell rang. I was waiting for this and knew it was the psychologist who had been recommended by my friend Suzanne to treat women's anxiety. Anxiety was code for sexual frustration, in my case brought on by my husband's lack of a kinky bone in his body, with our sex being quite boring for me. Suzanne said the doctor might be able to find a way to give me sexual satisfaction when my husband could not, and he'd be wor...

The doorbell rang just when I expected it. I knew it was the psychologist my friend Suzanne had recommended, who had given her his “clinical” therapy for anxious women. Anxious was code for sexually frustrated, and he knew from his practice that many women were not satisfied with their sex lives, leaving them wanting. His therapy was based on what the doctors did in the old days, which involved giving these women hand sti...

When the bell rang, I knew who was at the door. It was the psychologist my friend Suzanne had told me about, whose house calls were for women who were experiencing frustration with their sex life. That was me, alright. I'm Rose, and my husband just wasn't into much more than the missionary position about once a month, and it just wasn't enough. I wanted wilder, kinkier sex. Suzanne told me the doctor treated women like me...

I heard the doorbell while in the bathroom, so he'd just have to wait a minute. I knew it would be the psychologist my friends Suzanne and Kathy told me about, who did as the doctors did in the past to help women with “anxiety,” which was code for sexual frustration, by giving them hand stimulation to reach an orgasm. With a husband who would rather sit in his man cave with the guys, or even alone, than be with me, this s...

The doorbell rang right on time, as Pam waited for the doctor to arrive. She had heard about this therapist from a couple of her friends, who both recommended him if she wanted to have a unique sexual experience safely. She quickly called him and made an appointment. Answering the door, she let him in, and they exchanged pleasantries. He looked nice in his sport shirt and slacks, and maybe about fifty years old or so. She...