Thanks to SexyKitty_B for editing.
My name is Christie, and I am a sex therapist. Why did I choose that profession? Not because of my altruistic nature or because I am fascinated by the human body. No, my reason was much more down-to-earth and much simpler. I was -- and still am -- a dirty, opportunistic slut.
By the end of my freshman year in college, I had taken 27 cocks up my twat and 9 up my ass, given out 35 blowjobs and 79 handjobs. Yes, I kept tabs -- judge me if you like -- it made me feel even more of a slut. Anyway, needless to say that by the time I graduated, I was as experienced as a forty-year old street whore.
Once I had my own practice -- thanks to daddy's financial support -- word spread quickly. Most of my customers were high-society married couples who had lost the spark and were looking for tips and tricks to spice up their love life.
Usually, the husbands were rich and influential and I would let them have their way with me in one-on-one sessions, while their wives were reading a magazine in the waiting room. Of course, sometimes it was the other way around and I would pleasure the wife, while hubby was less than thirty feet away.
I was down for pretty much anything, and let my clients use me to act out all of their twisted and depraved fantasies, which greatly improved their overall happiness -- and thus also their married life -- and caused them to recommend me to their friends.
Word spread and my business boomed. Pretty soon, I was doing more fucking, sucking and licking than listening and talking. I was nothing more than a whore with a fancy degree!
As I was getting all the dick, cum and pussy I could possibly want during office hours, I didn't really feel the need for any kind of relationship, unless you count sucking off the pizza guy twice a week. You wouldn't believe how much I saved on tips.
On occasion, I would take on other cases as well, just to keep myself from getting bored. As was the case with Isabelle and her son Jason. Their case was referred to me by a fellow therapist who I had 'helped' several months before. However, unbothered by any moral center, I rarely actually helped, but instead preferred to use my influence and expertise to fuck my patients up even more.
"Isabelle Durant?" I asked, standing in the door opening of my practice, looking into the waiting room, reading her name for my clipboard.
"Hello doctor," she said as she got up and followed me.
"Good morning Isabelle," I said, "How are you today?"
"I am fine," she replied as we sat down in opposite couches, "It's my son, Jason."
"Is he the young man in the waiting room?" I asked redundantly, "What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, I uh... I've uh... been finding sperm around the house lately," she said, shyly.
"I see, are you sure it was sperm?"
"Positive."
"Ok, and did you confront Jason with it?"
"I didn't at first... it was just in his room and on his bed sheets, so I didn't say anything about it..."
"I see, but what changed?"
"Last week, I found cum in the shower drain," she blurted out.
"Did you say something about it?"
"No, his college classes start really early, he's usually out the door before I get up... and since I didn't want to wait until that evening to say anything about it, I left him a note on the fridge."
"And what was on that note, Isabelle?"
"Found sperm in the shower, it's disgusting... don't let it happen again!"
"I take it that didn't solve the problem?"
"No, the next morning I found an even bigger glob in the drain," she said.
"So, what did you do?"
"I wrote him another note. It read: found sperm in the shower AGAIN... it's not funny and still disgusting, stop masturbating in the shower!"
"But that still didn't solve the problem."
"No."
"And here you are," I smiled, thinking of how perfect of a victim she was.
"Here I am," she returned the smile, thinking I was just being polite.
"Well, Isabelle, your son is becoming a man, and while it's perfectly normal for him to masturbate and dump his cum wherever he wants, he has to respect your wishes and stay away from the shower..." I said, knowing perfectly well that wasn't what she meant.
"I... uh... that's uh..." she stammered, not knowing how to tell me she didn't fully agree with me. Taking advantage of her stammering, I said, "Look, we'll take care of it Isabelle... don't discuss the issue with Jason anymore, if you find any more cum, just ignore it for now, I'll have a talk with him."
"Oh, okay," she said, getting up as I did also, eager to get her out of the room.
"Jason?" I said, inviting him in. Reluctantly, the young man got up and walked into my office, but not before glancing me and up and down a couple of times.
Without waiting for an invitation, he slumped down on one of the couches, clearly conveying his unwillingness at being there.
"Well Jason, your mother tells me you've been masturbating quite a lot these last few days."
"Yeah so what, I've been jerking off since like forever... what's the big deal?"
"It's not a big deal Jason, quite the contrary: it's very healthy for a young man like yourself to masturbate frequently; tell me, how often do you jerk off?"
"Usually twice a day, more in the weekend," he said, pretending not to be embarrassed.
"And what do you with your... load?" I asked bluntly.
"Look doc, I know I should clean up after myself and I should respect my mom's wishes. I get..."
"No, Jason," I replied.
"No? No to what?" he replied curiously.
"No, you don't have to clean up after yourself, and no, you don't have to respect your mom's wishes!"
"Excuse me?" Jason said, showing real interest in our conversation for the first time.
"You don't really wanna clean up after yourself, do you? You want your mom to find the cum you've worked so hard for, pumping it out of your fat prick, don't you?"
"Hey look doc, I don't know where you're going with this, but this is getting a little weird for my taste!"
"It's not getting weird, your cock is getting hard and fat, that's all," I replied, looking down at the bulge in his pants, "But you know how to take care of that, don't you?"
He just gawked at me for a moment, not knowing what to say or do.
"Why don't you whip it out and pump it? You'll feel better," I smiled, as I started unbuttoning my blouse, "Here, I'll even give you something to look at."
He didn't move and just watched me take off my blouse. Then, as I unclasped my bra and took it off, he finally reached for his pants and took out his ridiculously big cock.
"Jeez, what kind of a doctor are you?" he said, as he started jacking off, gawking at my big, fat tits.
Ignoring his question, I smiled and said, "I want you to cum all over this coffee table! Can you do that, Jason?"
He nodded fiercely as he kept wanking furiously, gawking at my tits. I just sat there, smiling at him, letting him use me as inspiration to climax. He pumped his fat dick for minutes on end. Suddenly, he jumped up and leaned over the coffee table, spurting a colossal amount of sperm all over it.
Satisfied, he slumped back on the couch.
"There, don't you feel better now?" I asked as I started putting my bra on again.
As I put my blouse back on as well, I continued, "Well Jason, I think we're going to need to get together several times a week to help you through this. Meanwhile, keep doing what you're doing and cum wherever you want around the house. I've squared things with your mom. She won't give you a hard time anymore. Don't discuss any of this with her, okay?"
