Page 15 of Doctor Stuff

Chapter 3

Today’s dress is shorter than last week’s.

Did I go and buy it specifically for today? Yes. Yes I did. Because there’s something wrong with me and I’m pretty sure therapy is only making it worse.

Yes, I talked to Dr. John more than I meant to. Yes, I told him things that I would much rather keep bottled up. But I’m pretty sure he’s not supposed to be having me masturbate while I do that. He’s sure as hell not supposed to tell me that he’ll let me blow him if I have another good session.

I should report him to the board.

But I’m not going to do that.

Because for some reason, I crave what he’s doing to me.

Or else I wouldn’t keep going back. And the dress I bought for today wouldn’t be so short. Or strapless. No bra again. I am wearing underwear, but only because I’m a little afraid of leaking arousal down my legs if I don’t.

Just driving to my appointment turns me on, because I can’t stop imagining how things might go. What he might do.

He might actually touch me this week. If I’m blowing him, he’ll pretty much have to, right? I want him to touch me. Which is humiliating. He’s at least twice my age even if he is a total Zaddy. And he’s my therapist. It’s so fucked up, and that just makes me want it more.

Have I fantasized about blowing him?

Yeah, I have.

I don’t even like giving blowjobs, but it doesn’t matter.

It’s not about that.

What is it about?

I’m not entirely sure. I just know that I want it. Crave it. I want Dr. John’s dick in my mouth. And not just in my mouth, but that’s where I can at least start.

Just like my last two sessions, Dr. John is sitting behind his desk when I come in. He’s not looking up at me. I wonder if I walked in buck-ass naked he would look up. Maybe not, unless he can see me out of the corner of his eye. Besides, I doubt I would get past the receptionist.

Unfortunately.

Just once, it would be nice to get under his skin.

“Good afternoon, Traci, you can go ahead and have a seat.” He gestures at the couch without looking up. I don’t huff this time, I just walk over to the couch and sit down. I’m a little nervous, if I’m being totally honest. Do I want to suck his dick?

Yes.

Am I also freaking out at the idea?

Also yes.

I still want it. Just looking at him now, my tongue moves around inside my mouth, wondering how he’ll taste. How big he’ll be. I press my legs together as my whole body tingles while I stare at him and he finishes writing whatever he’s working on. It’s not that he’s ignoring me exactly, it’s that he’s so focused on what he’s doing that there’s none of his attention left for me… until he looks up and I become the singular point of his focus.

My breath freezes in my lungs as his gaze moves over my body, taking in the strapless top of my dress and the shortness of my skirt. There’s something about him that makes my brain stutter.

He gets to his feet, picking up his clipboard, and moves to his usual seat, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. There’s a smoothness to the way that he moves that’s almost predatory, and even though there’s still a low coffee table between us, it’s not the same as when he was behind his desk. The desk was much more of a barrier between us.

“Pull your top down.” The casual way he gives the order, expecting me to do as he says, makes my cheeks flame.

For a brief moment I consider balking, but if I do, maybe I won’t get to suck his dick. If I’m going to see how far he’ll go with this, I have to play the game.

I tug the strapless top of my dress down over my breasts, revealing them to him. Not that they’re anything new. He’s seen them two weeks in a row now. Dr. John doesn’t even look at them, his gaze focused on me, watching my face as I expose myself to him for the third week. It feels like my cheeks are on fire from blushing.

“Pull up your skirt to your waist.”