Fake it (On hold)

First Quarter: Part Two

This chapter contains mature content and depicts scenes about anxiety.

Ace

I watch closely as the hands from clock on the wall tick over. Another second closer to escaping this room. It's not the drab, hard eighties green decor that's doing my head in, it's the court ordered psychologist behind the small rustic desk that's the problem.

I'm pretty sure she is coming on to me. And I'm considering fucking her just to make the time go faster.

I haven't seen her before and the second I walked in, she was eye fucking the shit out of me. I knew things were going to be different this session.

As she stands and slowly slinks her way around to perch on the front of the desk, legs crossing and then un crossing, I get a very purposeful glimpse up her tigh ass skirt and happen to notice she is sans underwear.

Yep. Definitely coming on to me.

Fucking perfect.

She is not my regular doctor. He does not accept any of my bullshit and despite all my best efforts to avoid him; I have to admit that talking with him has started to help.

A little.

I hate myself only most of the day, every day now. Instead of all day.

See, progress.

A long pink nail scrapes down my shoulder and my attention is directed back to her and to the point of the stiletto that has found a temporary home at the apex of my crotch.

I look up to find the doctor wearing a coy smile, her tongue darts out to wet her overly plumped up lips and her claw like nails scratch their way down my arm, circling on my bicep before she scoots closer to me, legs open, placing a hand on each of my shoulders.
She is overdone for my taste but this seeing a shrink business is not my choice and if she has a better way to treat my issues, something other than all the pointless talking, then I'm all ears. Or balls.

This session just became a fuck load more fun that's for sure. Yes, it's completely unprofessional but shit, she is the instigator here and I would take sex over therapy any old day.

Plus, she has a sexy secretary look going for her. Dirty doctor. Why would I say no? Ill let her take the lead. If she starts it, it's her word against mine later if things go south.

" Talking about your PTSD doesn't seem to be working Ace, maybe we can try something a little more, physical." She purrs as she steps around me on the chair and moves to lock the door. As she makes her way back around the desk, ass swaying as she goes, she pulls out her phone and puts on some random music, before placing her phone back on the desk and stalking towards me.

One by one, she flicks open the buttons on her tight shirt and I'm pleasantly surprised when she shakes it off to reveal two very sweet, round assets.

I catch her watching me take her in and her smile broadens, matching my smug grin as she shimmies out of her skin tight skirt and slides it down her legs, stepping out to reveal that I was correct.

Dirty doctor is commando.

I try to make my mind think of all the reasons why fucking the substitute psychologist is not the best idea, but when she straddles me and begins to undo my pants, those thoughts seem to disappear like a few other things, for instance my morals. And common sense.

Fuck it. I'll add them to the list and unpack those two issues with my normal doctor next week.

As she takes hold of me, pumping my length once, twice before completely freeing me from my boxers, I lose all hope of ending this in any other way except all over her large fake breasts.