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Sex Story



*

She sat in her chair discreetly checking out the rest of the afternoon's appointments. She wasn't surprised to see the same old, same old. She had two more sessions for the afternoon; the Andersons (still in need of some serious work) and the Ellis' (almost ready to stop seeing her). "Oh, good," she thought to herself. "Maybe I can get home early!" She was beyond exhausted and looked up to realize that she hadn't been paying attention to her clients.

"John. Marie. I'm sorry, but we're out of time. I think you've made great progress today and we'll pick up where we left off next week."

Her name was Lola. And, no, she was not a showgirl. Of course, she'd heard the jokes since reaching puberty, but it had never ceased to be tiresome. She supposed the jokes were a result of her looks. Even objectively, Lola knew she was a knockout. With long, curling, shimmering brown hair, chocolate brown eyes and a Marilyn Monroe figure, she was every man's wet dream. Lola's large, high, tight breasts always drew stares. The cat calls as she walked away seemed to indicate that the view from behind was just as good.

Lola worked as a sex therapist. In her line of work, her figure was more often a hindrance than a help. She seemed to distract the husbands and piss off the wives. And Lola had tried everything. Baggy pants and sweaters, oversize jackets, granny dresses. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing could hide that great an hourglass figure. Still, she was an amazing therapist and once she set the ground rules, her couples seemed to do alright. That was, when they stayed past the first session. First impressions were everything.

At a knock on the door, Lola looked up from her calendar. Glancing at the clock she cursed softly to herself. It was time for the Andersons' appointment, but why hadn't her secretary buzzed her? Opening her office door she smiled at the waiting couple.

"Hey, guys! Come on in. I've just got to check a file and I'll be right in."

Closing the door behind her, Lola looked around the outer office. Where was her secretary?! Erin was usually so responsible. It wasn't like her to leave her post without letting Lola know. That's when she saw the note.

Dr. Wright, You were in with the Pruitt's and I didn't want to interrupt. I just got off the phone with my son's school. He's really sick and I have to go pick him up. I'm so sorry! I should be back tomorrow. I'll call if I won't be. Also, there was a call and I scheduled an appointment with a new client after the Ellis'. His name is Jimmy Dean and he just wants a preliminary session. Thanks! Erin

Jimmy Dean? Seriously?!?! Lola hated it when new clients used fake names. She understood the embarrassment that came with needing to see a sex therapist, but come on! Jimmy Dean?!? The sausage maker? She almost had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Oh, well. The Andersons' were waiting.

After two very intense sessions Lola was fed up. What was wrong with people? She understood that everyone had a hang-up or two about sex. Yet there were times that she got so sick and tired of the varied complaints and levels of ridiculousness.

"His dick is too big!" [Are you shitting me?] "She says George Clooney's name when we're having sex!" [Be happy she's having sex with your ugly ass at all!!!] "He only wants to have sex with me from behind!" [Well I wouldn't want to look at your face either!] "She always complains when I cum first and want to go to sleep!" [Who wouldn't!?!?]

Unfortunately, Lola was never allowed to voice any of the retorts that ran through her mind. It would be disruptive, destructive and unprofessional. Granted, she had a great client base, but it wouldn't help anything to alienate her current patients. Saying goodbye to the Ellis', Lola closed the door and checked the time. 25 minutes before Mr. Dean showed up. Normally, she loved her job. On most days, she felt like she was providing a valuable service to her clients. But for some reason, today had been awful. She was so sick of people complaining. People she thought should be happy. People with significant others or spouses; people who were getting sex, any sex, on a regular basis. Lola hadn't had sex in over a year. It was a huge dry spell for her and she was getting tired of it. She was fast approaching 30 and nothing seemed to indicate that there would be any rain storms, let alone monsoons, in the near future. But with her work the only people she met were in relationships, troubled though they might be, and she had ethics.

Although, she admitted to herself, ethics only go so far, as she poured herself a drink. True, it was a small one, but it was a drink nonetheless. She fervently wished for ice as she sipped at the vodka. Lola knew it was unprofessional, but she needed a little extra boost today. Plus, her next session should be a short one. Just enough to get some history and feel him out. And get an actual last name.

A tingle swept through her as the vodka worked its way into her system. A small warmth spread down her limbs as the synapses fired in her brain. Jimmy Dean....Why does that sound so familiar? It almost felt like an inside joke she should be in on but, God knows, Lola couldn't place it. Then again, it was seeming less and less important as she began to relax. Kicking her pumps off, she propped her heels up on the desk, taking just a second to unwind.

Lola opened her eyes to the sound of a throat being cleared. She bolted upright in her seat and spun away from the door. Shit!!!, she thought. In the few minutes she'd had her eyes closed, Lola had managed to doze off and her next appointment had arrived! Apparently the booze had lured her to sleep. Scrambling to locate her errant shoes, she crawled around the side of her desk to find herself facing a pair of large men's shoes.

Okay, composure. You are a professional. You have composure. Use it!!!

"Mr. Dean. Hi, sorry about that! Have a...seat."

Oh. My. God. Don't stare! Don't stare!!!

Before her stood the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. Lola tried desperately to keep her eyes and tongue in her head as she sized him up. She guesstimated that he was 6'1 or 6'2, a nice complement to her 5'8 stature. He was breath taking. His dark hair, straight nose and broad lips made him look like what she'd always imagined the real cupid must have looked like. Someone capable of making you wet and wanting with just a glance. And she was. But all of this was nothing compared to his eyes. They were sexy and soulful and the most amazing color. Brown, but more so; hiding flecks of gold and amber. They reminded her of really good scotch, when you hold it up to the light. They made her want to drink him up.

"Lo? Are you alright?", he asked.

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah! I'm fine. Sorry. Please, have a seat."

Finally locating the other shoe, Lola shoved her foot into it and turned to find a starter file. Something about him was nagging at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away in an effort to regain her composure.

"So sorry about that. Really. I must have lost track of time. Just give me a second to find a starter file and a pen. A pen. A pen. A pen...Oh!"

Lola had felt his presence before she'd seen his hand. It had startled her. She turned around quickly, already knowing her was there, to see her newest patient right behind her, leaning his left hand onto the desk. They were so close that if she thought hard enough their bodies would touch.

"I...um...", she stammered.

"I could see the pen from where I was sitting.", he said in a low voice. "It was hiding underneath that pad of paper. You just overlooked it...but it was right in front of you."

The sly smirk on his face let her know that he hadn't missed the double entendre. He'd meant it. The problem was she hadn't overlooked him at all. She knew very well that he was right in front of her. That all she needed to do was lean in. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

"Thanks!", she said, brightening her voice purposefully. "Now, please, have a seat on the couch and we'll get started."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

She took a deep breath to settle herself as he walked to the couch. But it didn't help. In fact, it just made things worse. She could smell his cologne lingering around her. And watching him as he walked to the couch? Bad idea! Boy, could that man ever fill out a pair of jeans.

Stop! Get ahold of yourself. He's only a man! Get this over with, go home and grab your dildo!

"So," she said, settling into her chair. "Why don't we start with your real name?"

He laughed at that and the sound rumbled through her.

"I'm Laird. Laird McCabe."

"Ah, how very Scottish of you." He grinned at her in response. "Well, I won't get all of your information right now. I'll give you the forms to fill out. If you'd like to continue on with me after this session, you'll need to bring them back to my secretary Erin. So tell me, what brings you to see me today?"

"A woman."

"Okay...", Lola checked the straight box on the form in her lap. "Tell me about her. What about this woman brought you to me?"

"Well, she was beautiful, sexy. Intelligent, driven, funny, accomplished, down-to-earth, impetuous, arousing...She was everything I ever wanted."

Laird paused and looked at her intently.

"And she left me."

She must have been a moron, Lola thought.

"When was the break-up?" Lola asked in her most professional voice.

"Six years ago."

She felt a tinge of guilt. Lola had lost what she now realized was the most significant relationship of her adult life six years ago. And it had been all her fault. She quickly pushed these thoughts away and refocused on her client.

"And how has this break-up affected you? What about it has you seeing me?"

"I can't be with another woman. No!" Laird stopped, seeing the knowing look on her face. "It's not that I can't; everything works just fine! It's just that I don't have the desire to be with other women. They leave me cold. Every time I try to start something I just shut off. No one can measure up to her and I'm not sure I want them to."

Wow. "So, this is more a commitment and baggage issue than one related to sexual dysfunction?"

"Well, I don't know. I have this recurring fantasy and no other woman satisfies me. If that's not sexual dysfunction for a man, I don't know what is."

Lola laughed, but quickly stopped. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just, that's definitely the least sexually dysfunctional thing I've heard in a long time. But it's obviously concerning you, so let's talk about it. Sometimes working through fantasies helps us to understand and loose ourselves from it. So why don't you tell me about the fantasy?"

Laird looked at her and sat in silence for a moment. His gaze made her uncomfortable. Heat seemed to radiate out of her body and all she wanted to do was squirm. Lola kept still, but it was a struggle.

"I come home late," he begins. "And she's in the shower. There's music playing and candles lit. I lean against the door jamb of the bathroom and watch her. She's singing and shimmying to the music and I can't take my eyes off of her. She's so sexy silhouetted against the curtain and I start thinking about all the things I want to do to her."

He pauses, licking his lips.

"I leave my clothes in the hall and pull back the curtain. She gives a little gasp but then smiles when she sees it's me. I step into the shower as she holds her arms out to me. I kiss her and pull her soft body tighter against me. I feel her breasts and hips mold to me and the way I'm kissing her causes her to moan into my mouth. She starts squirming and it excites me even more. I'm so hard and all I can think about is burying myself inside her, but I want to make her scream first."

Lola is starting to breathe more heavily and, without realizing it, her hand has moved to her throat. She can feel herself starting to get wet and wonders whether she should stop him. But something in her lets him keep talking.

"I start kissing her neck, massaging her breasts as I move my way down her body. I kneel in front of her and start licking along the line of her pubic hair. My fingers play with the lips of her pussy and she moans for me again. I grip her ripe ass in both hands and let my tongue start to play with her puffy clit. She gasps and moans as I run my finger along the crack of her ass and bury another one in her slick hole. She starts to push herself along my finger, straining to get it deeper, but I pull out slightly, teasing her lips again and sucking lightly on her clit. She's dripping now and she tastes like pungent honey. I can't get enough and I lose my head. I bury three fingers deep inside her and flick her clit back and forth until she's gasping out my name. She cums all over my tongue and I lick it up, savoring her sweetness."

Lola is gasping a bit herself now, but is trying to keep her head. This is sounding exactly like her biggest fantasy. Right down to some of the phrases she had used in describing it. The fantasy she's only ever told one person. But she knows that can't have anything to do with her new patient. That person doesn't know anything about who she really is or where she is now. Besides, there's no way Laird's fantasy can end the way she's always imagined it.

Laird continues. "She's really moaning now and pulls away from me, urging me to stand up. Just as I gain my feet, she goes to her knees. She starts stroking my shaft, one hand playing with my balls. I'm beginning to moan myself. She runs her tongue up and down my shaft and around the head. She licks up the precum and looks straight up at me 'Yummy'. I feel my balls clench and I'm almost ready to cum right then."

His voice is working magic on her and Lola can feel her panties becoming more and more damp as he keeps talking.

"Looking down at your deep brown eyes and gorgeous, shining brown hair plastered to your back, I feel something more than just the lust that's coursing through me. I want you on such a deep level that parts of me ache. I want to bury myself inside you."

Lola opens her eyes at that. She hadn't realized that they were closed, but they snapped open at his sudden change of nouns. You? And that's when the synapses started firing again.

"You meant 'her' just now, right? Not 'you'?"

Laird just looked at her with the most amazing bedroom eyes she'd ever seen. And her mind finally clicked into place.

"You called me 'Lo' when you first came in, didn't you?"

"It was on your business card."

"No." she replied. "It wasn't. All my cards say is L. Wright. Where did you get the 'Lo' from? How did you know that name?"

The sat in silence for another moment.

"You always said that your name was Lori. Maybe you were still scared and trying to protect yourself somehow. Though I thought we had gotten past that. But I always called you Lo. You said I could. I figured out that your name was really Lola. But I didn't think that my being allowed to call you Lo would have changed."

"No. No. This isn't...No. Who are you? Is this a joke?"

He chuckled again. "Does this look like a joke?" he asked, gesturing to the now very visible bulge in his jeans.

"Don't you know yet, love? Haven't you figured it out? Do I have to finish the fantasy for you to realize who I am? Who you are to me? How much I want to grab you and bury my cock deep inside you right now?"

Lola was really gasping now. She couldn't catch her breath. Could it really be him? After six years, could it really be the man she had never met, but somehow loved? The man who made her feel alive, made her feel sexy, made her wetter than she'd ever been in her life; could he really be sitting here in her office? Offering her everything she had ever really wanted. Could it be scotlaird99?

Lola, while doing work on sexual deviance for her doctorate, had worked on an online portion. She had trolled the chat rooms looking for those people with the most aggressive behavior. She had never been the first to message someone. She'd received, responded and cataloged her experiences. She had never instigated an encounter.

Except once.

There had been a screen name that drew her attention. She had a friend who had just returned from Scotland and she was thinking of planning a trip of her own. She had messaged the person out of sheer curiosity. And instead of getting the usual response of aggressive sexuality she had met the man she called 'L'. She had met the man who would change her life. Who she would share everything with, her deepest fears and fantasies, and grow to care for. Things had gone well; progressing to emails and phone calls. Phone calls that got more and more personal. Phone calls that culminated in passionate, imaginative phone sex; phone sex that made her cum like never before and wetter than she could believe. Finally, the impossible happened. He said the words she both longed for and dreaded. He loved her. And even more impossibly, she loved him back.

Being a broke student, Lola didn't have the funds to visit him. He was just starting his career and couldn't afford the time or money either. They told each other that they could wait. That things would work out in the end.

But Lola's ambition got the best of her. She was offered a prestigious fellowship at the same time that 'L' could finally arrange time to visit. She chose work over him. And to make things easier, she didn't tell him anything about it. Didn't tell him why she was breaking off contact. She just did it and didn't look back.

And now he had found her. He had come to find her and finish what they'd started. What should she do now?