SEX THERAPY «d.s.»

Chapter Two

I feel my pants tighten at the thought of this man naked and I try to avert my thoughts.

"It's just that I've never truly been comfortable with my own sexuality I guess." I reply. "I mean, as in the actual act of sex."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Dr. Simmons says, writing down a few notes then looking up at me. "So, we won't start during this first session, but I think we'll go through a few sessions just talking about things that you might be interested in, just growing to understand yourself sexually as much as we can without you actually engaging in any sexual activity. Then, we'll go from there."

"Okay." I say, noticing that this happened faster than I thought it was going to. "When should I come back?"

Dr. Simmons looks at presumably a calendar for a moment. "Is next Tuesday at 10 A.M. alright with you?"

I nod my head, because honestly any time is fine with me. Especially f I get to see more of him.

Dr. Simmons stands, smiling at me, making my knees feel weak again as I stand and shake his hand. His hand is soft yet firm at the same time, and I wonder briefly what it would feel like grabbing my ass, wrapped around my throat—

"Okay." I say, smiling back and trying to pretend like I wasn't just thinking about him screwing me on his desk. "Next Tuesday."

"See Marvin, the receptionist, on your way out to schedule your next appointment." Dr. Simmons says, turning and walking me to the door.

"Thank you, Dr. Simmons." I say.

"Please," he says, "call me Diggy."

«•»

"Oh, daddy! Fuck me harder! Please! Oh I love it, daddy! More, more, more! Ahhhhhhh!"

I stare intently at my computer screen, the small bottom being pounded by the ripped topped. I don't know if it was the terrible porn dialogue, or if the top was really giving it to him, but either was I was completely turned on.

My mind kept wandering to the events of the day. I kept seeing Diggy, even with my eyes open, standing there smiling at me, muscles evident beneath the fabric of his tailored Armani suit. Slowly, I begin to remove every article of clothing that covers his body, and before long, he's naked in front of me save for his right boxers, which leave nothing to the imagination.

"Simon," he says softly, his voice dripping with lust, his eyes staring at my own naked body perched in my bed, my hard length throbbing in my hand, a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues sitting next to me. "You don't have to do that. Let me take care of you."

The crappy porn is the last thing on my mind as imaginary Diggy climbs into bed with me, his strong body hovering above my own, his eyes staring down at me. My breath uneven. I can smell him, and it's intoxicating.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" His voice asks.

I nod my head, unable to find the words to tell him yes, to tell him how bad I need him.

Imaginary Diggy's lips are against the skin of my neck, and I feel my body melting, his hand takes my hard length and he slowly starts to pump his fist around me.