“Door’s open! Come in.”

Matthew eased himself into the office. No sign of her, other than the jacket hanging on her desk chair. “Hi…”

“Take a seat.” Her voice came from the little bathroom. “I’ll be with you in a moment...”

“Okay.” He perched himself on the couch, aware of his accelerated heartbeat. She’d closed the blinds, shutting out the late-afternoon sunshine and casting the room into cool shade. The air was sweet even in her absence–jasmine and vanilla, and creamy body lotion.

He absorbed the room’s sparse décor, gaze resting on one notable addition–an abstract full-body portrait of diverting eroticism. The woman in it was clearly nude, her near-transparent form shimmering in a marine sunset. His attention was gripped by the painting’s fiery aesthetic, and its context within Dr Martinez’ office made his cock engorge spontaneously.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

He flinched on finding her present with him, voice honeyed like her skin, gaze fixed as his had been on the picture. “Yes. Yes, she’s…”

“I think we both know what she is,” the therapist said, and she smiled wide, even teeth framed between exquisitely glossed lips and a smirking glint in her hazel eyes. “It’s good to see you again, Matthew.” The way she breathed his name made him shudder. “I knew you’d be back.” She lowered herself into the armchair side-on to the couch and crossed her silkily bare legs. Even while focusing on her face, he was aware of how tightly her blouse stretched against her breasts, likewise her skirt against her thigh, and of the anklet glinting above one heeled shoe. “Water?”

“Ehhh… yes, thanks.” He reached to the low table between them, excruciatingly aware of fabric stretching against his cock, and poured himself a glass.

“Thirsty boy,” she remarked, as he gulped it down.

“It’s a hot day.”

“Indeed. So…” She drew her streaked-blonde hair back behind her ear. “What do you want to talk about?”

Matthew set down the glass. “Well, Dr…”

“Andrea, please.”

“Andrea…” He smiled, heart palpitating slightly. “Okay. So, regarding my work-life balance…”

“We’ve done that. Go again.”

“Right.” He fought to rerail his train of thought. “I’ve tried some of those stress-relieving exercises…”

“Do they work?”

“Yes…”

“Good. What else?”

“I…”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Matthew. Why are you in therapy? With me?”

His breath caught. First time had been prompted by his wife’s admission of attending counselling sessions–it had struck him as a good idea–and by Andrea’s name topping the list when he googled Therapists near me. This time, however… “It’s… I…”

“Let me help you out.” She wet those perfectly formed lips. “What topic did you broach, right before our last session ran out?”

“My…”

“Say it. You didn’t come here to be shy.”

“My sex life.”

“There it is.” Her eyes glinted with gratification. “Take off your shoes.”

“Sorry?”

“And lie back. Old-school. Get comfy.”

“Okay.” It felt beyond luxurious to slip the loafers from his feet and succumb to the couch’s velvet plush.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Now… take long, slow breaths in and out.”

Her voice guided him, each exhalation freeing him of tension–all but the kind mounting in his groin.

“Now tell me, Matthew. About that sex life of yours.”

“Right. My wife and I… we’ve been married six years now. Together for almost eight.”

“Your wife’s name is…”

“Shannon.”

“Good. Go on.”

“Recently we’ve been… well…” The trickle turned to a stream in spate. He told it all, in broad terms. The rush of horny romance, initially enhanced by matrimony, then sapped by the proximity of pandemic lockdown, corroded by life’s petty irritations, and dulled by domesticity’s demands. “To say it’s not what it was…”

“When did you and your wife last have sex?” Andrea inquired.

“Ehhh… Sunday morning just past.”

“Right. And when did you last fuck her?”

The bluntness shocked him silent.

“It’s a necessary distinction. Forget dutiful marital coupling, Matthew, and let’s get real. I’m talking about your bloated, swinging bollocks slapping against her thighs every time you bury that visibly rigid cock of yours to the balls inside her spasming cunt. When did you last do Shannon like that?”

He stared across at her, eyes wide, heart racing.

“Call it verbal shock therapy,” she said. “It’s what you need. Now answer me. When?”

Matthew sank back onto the couch. “I can’t remember.”

“Your big dick stretching her till her juice was dripping from your balls, and she was a whimpering, fucked-out wreck?”

“Oh God,” he moaned.

“Manhandling and shafting her till she’d stopped being your wife, till your lovely Shannon was just a piece of shuddering, squirting fuckmeat?”

“Christ…”

“A place to ram your needy fucking cock?”

“Oh God, it’s been forever…”

“On vacation, maybe?” Her voice softened as she changed tack. “Look back at the painting.” He peered up at the glistening, naked woman in the portrait. “Remind you of the good times?”

It did, instantaneously. “Sardinia. Two summers ago.”

“Ah. Tell me about Sardinia.”

“It was… It was…” His hand hovered over his crotch, fingers flexing.

“Touch your cock. This is a safe space.”

“God… Thank you.” He gripped his bulging self firmly though his trousers and gave himself up to the memory. “It was fabulous. Shannon got relaxed, properly so. Food and wine and balmy, Mediterranean air. Two days in and she turned… holiday horny, you know?”

“Oh I know. But describe it to me.”

“She… just wanted to get naked and fuck all the time. Not have sex. Fuck.”

“Good. So she should have done. And did you fuck her, Matthew?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Hard?”

“Hard. On the beach and in our bed and on the balcony…”

“People watching you?”

“Maybe, yes. Fuck… Probably.”

“Sexy little bikini bitches staring as you fucked your wife like an animal? Thinking ‘Lucky slut, I wish it was me?’”

His hand sped up. “God, I hope so.”

“I hope so too. Tell me what you did to her. Tell me how you used your wife.”

The confession flowed easily now, a hot showreel playing out in his mind. “I put her on her knees successive mornings and fed her my cock for an early breakfast. Taught her how to swallow it. Gripped her blonde head and rammed every inch down her throat till she learned how not to gag. I can still remember the squelch.”

“It shows. Tell me more.”

“I… grabbed her ankles and split her legs in a massive V and slammed into her pussy fit to bust it. Pushed her knees either side of her tits and shafted the fuck out of her sopping, greedy hole. Pounded down into her while she whimpered like a slut.”

“This is good. This is what I want. Keep going…”

“Put her on all fours and fucked into her like a bastard from behind, with my fist in her hair and her big ass rippling.”

“Did you spank it? Make it ripple more?”

“Damn right I did. Over and over. Whacked her till she was fucking branded, pumping in and out of her all the while. Right till I was ready to blow. And then…”

“And then what? Tell me.”

“I pulled out and buried it to the hilt in her ass and just let go.”

“Pumped your cum right up her ass?”

“Yes…”

“Shot her rear tunnel full of your hot, nasty spunk?”

“Nnghnnng…”

“Emptied those balls deep inside Shannon’s shitter?”

“Fuck yesss…”

“I’ll bet that shocked her…”

“Fucking right. She’d fantasised about it but didn’t think I’d ever do it.”

“But you did, didn’t you? Because Matthew Lloyd’s a filthy, fucking bastard first and a husband second.”

“Christ…”

“Don’t you even think of cumming.”

His hand froze, moulded to the thick, pulsing dimensions beneath.

“Not yet, and not in your trousers. Take it out.”

He stared at her, stupefied. “Seriously?”

Her voice was calm and firm. “Take it out and grip it hard. We’re not fucking around here.”

Within seconds he’d liberated himself and wrapped his palm around the shaft.

“Good. Very nice. You know what you’ve got in your hand?”

“What?” he panted, massaging himself.

“The big, hard fucking dick that’s going to pound Shannon’s cunt sore between now and our next session. Just like it did in Sardinia.”

“Oh good God…”

“You’re the same stud, Matthew, and she’s the same filthy fucking slut she was on that vacation. She just needs reminding.”

“Jesus…”

“Slow down. I’m not done.”

His fist eased in its motion, as he waited for what was next.

“Next time you fuck her, you’ll hear my voice, won’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Because you want to fuck me, don’t you?”

“Yesss…”

“But you’re going to fuck her instead, Matthew. You’re going to plough her hot hole while thinking of me. But not just me, because this isn’t about me. It’s about you and that thick slab of throbbing meat you’re slapping. So–who else do you want to fuck?”

“Ehhh…”

“Tell me.”

“There’s… There’s this Sky News weathergirl who…”

“Not off the TV. Real life. Give me three. Don’t overthink it. Who makes your cock fucking bulge?”

“Nnnnnnggg… Dental nurse at my local practice. Sweet, smiley, South Asian–Indian, I think. Nice tits. Nose stud.”

“And you’d like her riding that big, rigid fuck-pole?”

“Yes…”

“Good. Another.”

“Janey, my ex.”

“Good memories?”

“Dirtiest fuck I ever had.”

“Great. We can explore that next time. Still in touch with her?”

“Kind of. Not really. Still on my Facebook.”

“Excellent. Message her. Be flirty. Stir up those dirty memories.”

“Christ–is that wise?”

“Fuck ‘wise’. You need some danger. Final choice.”

“Uhhhh…” he groaned, agonised by the horny truth. “Oh God…”

“Say it, Matthew. Whoever it is.”

“Kate. I want to fuck Kate.”

“And she is…?”

“My sister-in-law.”

“Now we’re talking. Tell me about her.”

“Blonde, like Shannon. Tan. Early twenties. Works at a day spa. Saw her in a swimsuit once–slender, athletic, big, bouncy, gorgeous fucking jugs.”

“And what would you like to do to her? Say it, Matthew.”

“Jesus…”

“Say it.”

“I’d like to shaft the fucking shit out of her.”

“Till she screams?”

“Till she fucking hollers and squirts all over my cock.”

“Good! Then do it. Next time you fuck your wife, Matthew, fuck her. Fuck me. Fuck us all. Fuck us like the filthy, self-serving bastard you are.”

“Yes! God, I’m going to…”

“No, you’re damn well not. Let it go.”

Her change in tone acted like a slap. “What?” He hovered on the edge, hand stalled. “You’re joking…”

“Serious as sin. Put that fucker back in your trousers now.”

“But…”

“Session over. You’ve got homework to do.”

“Which… Which is?”

“Go home, fuck your wife, and plaster her face beyond recognition. Tell me about it next time. Yes?”

He fixed her with a level stare. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said, uncrossing her legs. “Productive session. Quite the breakthrough. Oh, don’t leak precum onto my couch. I leave tissues on the table for a reason.”

~~~~ 

Andrea remained impassive in her seat until her client had exited the premises. It was hope or instinct that prompted her to check her voicemails. Either way, the action was rewarded.

“Hi,” said the familiar, hesitant voice on the recording. “Dr Martinez–Shannon Lloyd here, remember? I’d like to–to arrange another session, maybe talk over some of those–um more personal issues we touched on last time. Do you have any windows in your schedule this week? Let me know. Thanks, bye.”

“Sweet serendipity.” The therapist smiled as she retreated to the bathroom for some vigorous post-session follow-up. “Damn–I love my job.”