My Favorite Client

“You’re so messed up,” Kat scolded me when I told her that I had fooled around with Nate. “That is not what the therapist’s couch is for. But of course, you’ve decided not to be his therapist any more, right?”

I started to twirl a lock of hair around my finger, a nervous habit that she spotted off the bat. “Oh god, you’re still his therapist.”

“It’s not that easy to leave. It would be like dumping him, which could set his therapy back by months. This is actually working.”

“In what universe?” 

So I proceeded to tell her about the events of the day before, starting with what happened after my blouse inexplicably dropped to the floor.

I had to admit that I half-way expected Nate to be rather mediocre in bed. Yes, he’s amazingly attractive, but I couldn’t simply forget the fact that he was seeking therapy because his wife wouldn’t have sex with him. Call me naive, but I just thought that if you’re married to someone and the sex is good, then you would jump them every moment you’re alone.

I soon learned that the lack of sex going on in Nate’s home had nothing to do with his prowess. And so I continued to lie to myself -- willing myself to believe that these depraved acts with my client were giving me insight into his problems. Sexually proficient. Check. Yay me, I could now successfully cross that one off my list of questions.

At first his moves were tentative, but that only added to my desire. His touch wasn’t demanding like Adam’s; it was soft and slow, making me hot beyond my wildest dreams and craving that we take our relationship to a decidedly more personal level.

“Tell me how you like to be touched,” he whispered in my ear as he ran his hand along the inside of my thigh, touching the front of my panties and then daring to move the thin, lacy fabric aside when he felt me getting wet. He teased me by skimming his hand lightly over my pussy. God how I wanted him to move his hand inside me. 

My breath was rapid, but he was totally in control of himself. His mouth delivered light kisses down my neck as his hand moved gently over me with feather-like touches. This was going on too long. I asked him, rather I begged him to touch me there because I couldn’t stand it any longer.  

And when he obliged my request, he did so with deft expertise, moving his finger slowly inside me and then crooking the tip of it so that it massaged my g-spot making me cum immediately. 

“Oh my. I totally didn’t expect that,” I said breathlessly afterwards.

“You didn’t think I was capable?”

“That’s not what I meant. It just happened so fast.”

He kissed me sweetly. “Wait ‘til I’m inside you. You’ll be happy to know that I don’t suffer from that affliction.” 

Is there any doubt that he’s my favorite client?