The Analyst's Couch

I guess that from an early age I had always been brought up to hide my feelings. Being brought up as the eldest son of a Lancashire miner had seen to that. I had only ever seen my father cry once in my entire life and I sensed that he still regretted that as a momentary lapse on his part. Crying was for women. Men should just get on with things and, even if they did hurt inside, never let the outside world see it.

So when my wife left me for another man after over 30 years of marriage I just got on with the task of taking things a day at a time. In many ways I valued my independence and the ability to now be able to do exactly what I wanted to do and when I wanted to. The novelty soon wore off, however, and soon I sensed that spending too much time alone was not good for me.

The physical side of my marriage had not been up to much for many years and so I did not miss that side of things, but coming home to an empty house, devoid of conversation, was starting to get more than I could bear.

I was not used to seeking help in these kinds of things but, eventually, my two grown-up daughters badgered me into going to see the doctor. I had never been one to take prescription medicines where it could be avoided and my medical records clearly indicated this as the doctor made no attempt to prescribe a course of medication and instead asked how I would feel about undergoing some counselling.

I felt a bit taken aback by the suggestion, as unburdening my soul was not something that rested easily on me, especially to a complete stranger. I asked for a little time to think it over, but as things showed no signs of improving on my next appointment I reluctantly agreed to give it a go.

That is what led to my first appointment with Marianna.

It was late afternoon when I walked into her waiting room and, after announcing my arrival to the receptionist, took my seat in one of the comfortable armchairs that were set out around the waiting area.

The minutes seemed to drag until at long last a door before me opened and a lady appeared from the room.

"John Atkins??" she stated looking across at me in a manner that reminded me of one of my old schoolmistresses. In fact there was much about this lady that reminded me of a schoolteacher – her manner – her clothes and her demeanour. I sensed that she was around mid-50s and also that as a younger woman she had, no doubt, been quite a looker, but she dressed in a manner that played down her looks rather than accentuated them. I sensed this was probably done on purpose and that it would be much easier unburdening your soul to someone in that position than to someone you saw as a desirable women.

I stood up and walked over.

"Hi there, I'm Marianna Smith" she said and offered her hand as a greeting. I shook her gentle hand and thought that it was the first time in ages that I had made contact with female flesh. I had forgotten how soft and welcoming it could be. Her soft accent was clearly not a local one and I sensed a hint of the Emerald Isle in there.

I followed Marianna into her consulting room and closed the door behind me. I watched her disappear behind her large desk and admired the way she walked in a way that was both purposeful and feminine and despite the fact that her skirt was quite loose she appeared to have quite a tight backside that many a much younger woman would be proud of.

I took a seat on the other side of the desk and made eye contact with Marianna. She smiled gently at me, no doubt trying to win my confidence for the things that lay ahead and then started to explain her position and the things we were likely to try to explore.

I looked at the name plate on Marianna' desk " Dr Marianna F. Smith – Therapist ). There was something very sensual about the name Marianna and it contrasted so well with the plainness of her surname. My mind started to wander to thoughts of what the "F" stood for. The first name that came into my head was "Fiona" but that did not seem quite right as I had once worked with a Fiona and she and the lady who sat before me seemed as different as chalk and cheese.

I though again "Felicity" – that was another very pretty name and one that somehow oozed class, which seemed to perfectly fit this very classy lady who was about to ask me to start explaining my problems. Until I knew any different "Felicity" it would be "Marianna Felicity Smith" a name that seemed to encompass everything about my new therapist. "Smith" fitted well with her plain but well-dressed exterior, "Felicity" gave indications of a classy female who was used to being treated well, a very feminine name. "Marianna" seemed to contrast and somehow hinted at an inner sexuality, an alter-ego that burned with an inner passion that longed to be set free.

Yes "Marianna Felicity Smith" was so much more than I had imagined and something about her made me want to get to know her better, much better!

I snapped my mind back into the real world and started to explain a bit about my past, my marriage, my children, my work and anything else I thought might be relevant.

Marianna listened intently, in silence, and seemed to be making copious notes as I rambled on in a way I had thought would be difficult but in a way I was actually starting to enjoy. Something told me that Marianna was not a lady to judge my previous actions and I already felt that there was nothing I would feel uncomfortable telling her.

Before long the session was at an end and I felt a mixture of release at having started the unburdening process but also a sadness that the session was over far too quickly. Marianna was anxious to learn if I felt that our meeting had been helpful and smiled warmly at me as I confirmed that it had. We arranged to start with a block of four consultations with the next one to be the same time the following week.

As we said our goodbyes Marianna moved towards me and again took my hand. Her skin felt amazingly soft and smooth and as I looked down at her manicured nails I saw that her wedding finger bore the evidence of both an engagement and wedding ring. I suppose it was only to be expected that such a cultured, intelligent and sexy lady was already spoken for.

I turned and made my exit and was soon in my car and on the way back to the office and yet somehow it was so hard to get Marianna out of my head. I had always found intelligent women a turn-on. There was something about a woman's mind that could be even sexier than her face and figure. Marianna clearly was a very intelligent lady and she also had a kind face with a warm, welcoming smile and eyes that seemed sad and yet still with the sparkle of a much younger woman. As for her figure, this had been quite well hidden from him and yet, on occasions there were indications that she looked after herself and had no intention of growing old gracefully.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as I caught up with telephone calls etc. And soon I was walking to my car with my briefcase that carried some urgent work for later that evening. The radio came on automatically as I turned on the ignition and the soft, sensual tones of the female singer carried my thoughts back to my experience earlier in the afternoon.

Not since my separation had any woman had the effect on me that Dr. Marianna F. Smith was now having. Of course there times when the sight of a young lady in the street started my juices rising, especially a young lady in a short skirt or tight trousers, but this was something more, more than just the lustings of a man who was probably past his best but one who still had plenty to share with the right woman. Not that there was anything wrong with lusting for lusting's sake and as I pulled into the driveway of my house I sensed it would not be long before I felt the need for relief. These days that was not a regular event but something about the lady I had met today had pushed the right buttons and there would be only one face in my fantasy as I brought myself to orgasm.

As I closed the door behind me and found myself alone for the first time since I had met Marianna the needing got the better of me. I put down my briefcase in the hall and was soon on my way upstairs and into my bedroom. The room still wore the image of a woman. I had never ventured to re-decorate since my wife's departure and somehow it now seemed quite appropriate to imagine that I was not there alone. It seemed the ideal setting for a romantic tryst and as I undressed I imagined the door opening and Marianna entering the room.

I imagined us kissing, gently at first and then more passionately, my hands starting to gently explore the curves of her body as she did the same to me. Then slowly starting to undress her, the formal outer clothes giving way to underwear that confirmed my suspicions of a passionate lady. Lots of silk and satin and lace and underwear that clearly had not been cheap, but which made Marianna look good enough to eat – and eating her would be a pleasure for us both!!

By now I was completely naked. So here I am. Sitting on the edge of the bed thinking of a very special lady. I am stroking myself, making my cock think that I am going to let it cum but wanting to make this longing and the excitement last as long as possible. Even now, as I sit here, a drop of precum oozes from its swollen tip. It feels so close to orgasm already bit I show restraint and back off before I get to the point of no return. My cock begs for some female attention. It wants to be caressed by those soft hands that I held earlier, to feel the wetness of her mouth and finally, it wants to feel the overwhelming warmth of her pussy as it slides inside her. My balls ache to release their heavy load deep within her

I squeeze my thighs together, and still another droplet of precum appears. The anticipation itself is a sort of engaging foreplay. The more I want her, the more I want to stroke myself and relieve myself. But I won't do that. Not until the time is just right. So here I sit, continuously teasing myself. I feel so horny as I wrap my fingers around my cock, just a few strokes will have me at full length. Another droplet of precum... I cannot remember being so hard for such a long time. I can feel the heat radiating from my hard cock.

My cock begs for attention, but I can't ignore my balls either. I am imagining Marianna playing with them for me – massaging them. As I squeeze my legs together, the head of my cock gets all shiny. It throbs with anticipation. A part of me just wants to wrap my hands around it and stroke. But no, I won't do that just yet. I will just continue with my tease.

Soon I am stroking myself with one hand and grabbing onto my balls with the other. That feels so good ........ so fucking good!! I'm stroking myself with my left hand (another droplet oozes out), while I play with my nipple with the right, squeezing my thighs to massage my balls at the same time.

Precum makes a great lubricant. I take the droplet to my fingertip and put it underneath the head of my cock. I tickle the underside ever so lightly, while continually stroking with my other fingers. My breath is getting kind of ragged, as I feel myself getting closer. Soon I will have no choice but to go with the flow. I open my legs and grab the full length of my cock. My hand is now gliding up and down and building up speed.

My hand is now moving even more quickly, thinking of Marianna there near to me. I am almost there and so I slow the pace just a bit. I feel my balls tighten, as I know I'm about to explode. I stop. Then again I start. I want to cum so bad.

With that my hand travels back down to my erection and takes a firm hold of it. I begin stroking myself with my left hand. The precum still dribbles from my cock. The feeling is not quite as good as what it is with my right hand, my usual hand, but it feels good just the same. I think of Mariannau lying there, all wet and horny beside me, spread eagled on the bed, running her fingers through her pubic hair. The pink slit of her pussy as it spreads apart ever so slightly. Watching her breasts heave with every breath she takes.

I can hold back no longer as the spasms of pleasure begin and wave after wave of hot cum shoot from my cock and as each one is set free another rushes to take it's place. I cannot remember ever having produced such a volume of semen and as my hand slows and my breathing returns to something like normal I feel a deep satisfaction within.

Something tells me that I am going to look forward to my sessions with Marianna Smith and I think that this will be the first of many occasions when I utilise her imagined prescence in my bed as an aid to self-satisfaction.

As I go to tidy myself up in the shower I imagine that now she will be at home, enjoying the evening with her husband and totally unaware of the fire she has ignited within me.

The shower feels so good as my body slowly returns to its pre-orgasmic state but I think that before the evening is out I may feel the desire, no the need, to re-visit this scenario.