Addison's New Friendbyeroslit©
"What are you going to do this summer, Addison?" Michelle asked.
"Hopefully, fuck every guy in town."
"I don't believe that's a realistic goal for an eighteen year old," the psychiatrist said calmly.
"If I only get half of them, is that considered a success or failure? C'mon, Michelle. What do your books tell you? Would my cunt be half full or half empty?"
"Why do you feel it's necessary to talk like that, Addison?"
"Using so much profanity," Michelle said.
Addison looked at her with surprise. "Excuse me. Let me start over. I'm going to have sex with every guy in town. And would fifty percent mean my vagina is half full or half empty?"
Michelle stared at her.
Addison continued, "That changes the meaning completely, doesn't it? Puts it into a whole new light. Shit."
Michelle typed a few notes on her laptop and looked up at her patient. She had been seeing Addison for almost a year. She was just one of many teenage girls Michelle treated, or tried to treat. Why was it that the prettiest ones were the most distressed, Michelle wondered?
And Addison was beyond pretty. She was easily the most attractive eighteen year old Michelle had ever laid her eyes on. Long blonde hair, green eyes, luscious lips and a body to die for should never be allowed in one package—but Addison had it.
Now, finally, after a half dozen visits, Michelle felt like she was getting closer to the solution of the Addison puzzle. The suppressed anger in the teenager's voice was always a sign that Michelle was touching a nerve. Too rarely in their visits had Addison ever expressed anger.
"When was the last time somebody told you what to do, Addison?"
The girl slouched in her favorite chair; the one closest to the door, with the huge, padded arms that Michelle let Addison fling her leg over. "Yesterday. My fucking Mom wanted me to clean my room. Again! Like I've ever done that. She practically screamed at me this time. It was kind of funny."
Michelle typed away. "Did it make you mad?"
"Did you do it?"
"I'll clean it when it needs cleaned."
More notes. "Why do you hate men, Addison?"
Michelle hadn't used this method of questioning in a long time, but the time seemed right to try it on somebody who repelled every other attempt to get inside her head. After Addison's initial gaze of confusion, she said, "They all think they're so fuckin' smart. They think they can say something nice to me, or offer me a drink, and I'm going to fuck them. Assholes. I'll decide who, and when, and how."
She sat upright in the chair, a tension radiating from her body that Michelle felt clear across the room.
"They should BEG me. But most of them put a hand on my ass or take a swipe at my tits and think I'll roll over for them. Nobody tells me what to do!"
'Bingo!', Michelle typed.
Ten years in psychiatry with young people taught Michelle to pause. Normally, no question she could ask brought a better response from the patient than a pause after an outburst. Michelle took the extra time to admire, once again, the girl in her chair.
The long, tan legs that extended out of Addison's obscenely short shorts were unblemished. The gentle curve of the calves and nearly-mature thighs could have belonged to a model. Addison's sleeveless top rode up her body as she slumped, exposing a few inches of firm abs. Her breasts threatened to fall out of the loose shirt.
Addison rolled the end of her blonde hair around a finger and stared out the window. There was no indication she was going to break the silence.
"Who's your closest friend right now, Addison?"
The girl's eyes swung back to Michelle. She looked depressed again, or tired, or bored. "My dog."
Michelle fought the urge to laugh. In fact, she was better at repressing her emotions than most of her patients who were being treated for just that condition. Oftentimes, it leaked into her life away from the office and she had to consciously let it out.
"Is that by your choice?"
"Not totally. He had something to do with it, too."
"You've told me before that you dated. You don't consider any of those guys friends?"
Addison laughed. "Fuck no."
Michelle typed for a few seconds, stalling to properly phrase the next statement in her mind.
"I want you to try something, Addison. Before we meet again, I'd like you to make one new friend. It can be somebody you already know or somebody you meet," Michelle said. "Are you willing to do that?"
Michelle closed the lid of her laptop and looked at Addison.
The girl nodded, her mouth curling into a frown of resignation. "I guess."
Michelle flopped onto the family room couch and sighed out loud. She turned on the TV and tossed the remote aside, not really caring what channel came on. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair.
She loved these evenings when her police officer husband was on duty and she had the house to herself. She could lie unmolested in her t-shirt and panties, attempting to wipe all the day's sessions out of her mind.
But evenings after she'd seen Addison proved to be the hardest. The teenager was an intriguing case, first of all. The thirty-five year old psychiatrist was used to dealing with younger patients, but almost always she could figure out what was going on inside their brain. It wasn't so easy with Addison, although progress might have been made today.
There was another problem when it came to Addison, however.
Michelle rolled onto her back and settled her head onto a plush pillow. Then, as she always did on post-Addison evenings, she ran her hand up the inside of her thigh and brought the bottom of her t-shirt with it. She raised her ass off the couch and bunched the t-shirt around her waist. With her tiny panties now uncovered, Michelle slid her hand inside.
She touched her clit one time and felt the all too familiar tingle in her pussy. She would not return to that most sensitive spot for a few minutes, knowing that only the slightest provocation with Addison on her mind would start her down the steep cliff toward an orgasm. Instead, she would tease herself with the payoff being a more intense climax.
Michelle's panties stretched out as her petite hand probed the moist area around her hole. She gathered moisture on her fingertips and separated the flaps of skin to allow access to her vagina. Her hand slid up and down, the fingers finding the opening, but not entering.
Just as she was about to slip a finger inside her body, her cell phone buzzed.
She pulled her hand out and reached behind her head for the phone. On the second ring she found it and looked at the screen. There was no ID of the caller, but it was a local number. Very few people had the unlisted number and she rarely got crank calls. Being the professional that she was, she answered the call after the third ring in case it was an emergency.
"Hey. This is Addison."
Michelle thought she was ready for anything when she answered the phone. She wasn't prepared for this.
"Addison? How'd you get this number?"
"It's amazing what you can get when you promise to have sex with a dude that works at the phone company," Addison said.
"That's illegal, Addison."
"Having sex with a guy from the phone company is illegal?"
"Stealing unlisted phone numbers."
The scent of her sex wafted from her fingers as Michelle held the phone. That, and the sound of Addison' voice, only made her wetter.
"Sorry. Didn't know it was unlisted. Anyway, I wanted to talk."
Michelle didn't believe her pleading of ignorance, but she knew better than to refuse to talk to her.
"About what, Addison?"
"Me? Why me?" Michelle asked.
"I've decided you're going to be my new friend. I'm really excited."
Michelle's heart raced. "I'm glad you're excited, Addison. But we can't be friends."
"I can't objectively help you if we have a close friendship. We can be friendly to each other, Addison. But we can't be friends."
"That sucks," Addison sighed. "Because I think you really like me."
"Of course I like you."
"Michelle, I see the way you look at me when we're together. I know that look. Men give it to me all the time. You look at me that way, Michelle."
The pause that followed could never have been long enough for Michelle to formulate a sensible response. She said, "What are you suggesting, Addison?"
"Damn it, Michelle. Quit being the psychiatrist for just five minutes. Can you do that for me? And how does that sound to YOU, anyway?"
The familiar sudden anger shouldn't have surprised Michelle, but it did. She tried desperately to escape the role of analyst, but she also didn't want to lose the ground made up earlier in the day.
"I don't look at you in sexual terms, Addison."
"You're lying. And I can prove it," the teenager said with a confident voice.
Michelle regretted asking the question as soon as it left her mouth.
"What are you wearing right now?"
"A t-shirt and panties."
"Are you alone?" Addison asked.
"Michelle, I want you to reach inside your t-shirt."
Michelle felt her breathing become heavy. She thought about appropriate responses; all the things she learned in school; possible directions to take with this girl.
"OK," was all she could say.
A sigh came across the phone. "Michelle, this isn't going to work if you don't listen to me. Now put your hand inside your shirt."
This time Michelle obeyed. Her hand slid under the shirt, resting just above her navel.
"Do you have a bra on, Michelle?"
"Good. Never wear a bra when you know I'm going to call."
Michelle didn't ask the obvious question, allowing the teenager to stay in control.
"Do you want to know what I'm wearing?" Addison asked.
"Tell me," Michelle said without any emotion.
"Nothing, Michelle. I'm in bed naked."
Michelle felt herself losing control over her nerves. Shivers flowed through her body in waves. Somehow she had to hide it all from Addison. She needed to know where Addison was taking this, but at some point it had to be stopped.
Addison said in a very soft tone, "How often have you wanted to see me naked, Michelle? Every time I visit you?"
Michelle would not answer.
"Reach up and touch your breast."
Michelle's hand stopped at the bottom of her breast.
"Pull the shirt up, Michelle. Over your breasts."
When her nipples were exposed, Michelle laid the shirt down.
"Now wrap your fingers around one of your breasts, Michelle."
She followed the orders exactly.
"Squeeze it. Feel the soft skin, Michelle. Close your eyes and imagine it's me you're holding. You're reaching out and fondling my tit like you've wanted to since the first time you saw me."
"Addison, that isn't..."
"Shhhhhhh. Just listen to me, Michelle. Now take hold of your nipple and roll it between your fingers. Pinch it, Michelle. Harder."
How did she know? How could her patient know that nothing aroused her more?
"Pull on it. Can you feel it clear down to your pussy? Play with your tit, Michelle, until you can feel the quivers inside your stomach."
Michelle felt those quivers several minutes ago, but the renewed attention to her nipples caused a flood of pleasurable feelings to stream through her.
"I want you to tell me if your panties are wet. Touch them."
Michelle didn't have to. But she did.
"Yes, what?" Addison insisted.
"So am I, Michelle. You make me wet. I love your tits and the hard nipples. I wish I could suck on them right now."
Michelle winced and her eyes closed so tightly it almost hurt.
"Now rub the top of your panties. Press your panties into your pussy, Michelle."
She glided her hand back and forth across the thin material. She spread her legs a little farther apart and rubbed some more.
"That's it. Now find your clit. Rub your clit through your panties and tell me how good that feels."
Michelle rubbed, but she did not speak.
"Tell me, Michelle."
Still, no response.
"I can hear you breathing, Michelle. Tell me how it feels."
"It feels good, Addison."
"It feels good to rub my clit."
"Tell me about it."
Michelle wanted to scream. She couldn't be letting this happen. A teenager—a depressed teenager—was making her describe her masturbation over the phone. Her hand moved back and forth.
"I can feel the panties rubbing my skin. And my clit is hard. Every time I touch it..."
Michelle's brain finally caught up and let her understand what she was saying.
"What, Michelle? Tell me."
Addison's voice once again put Michelle's brain on hold. "Every time I touch it, I want more."
"God. You're going to make me cum. Hearing you say that is so cool. I'm rubbing my clit, Michelle. I feel it, too."
There was a long pause, with nothing but the sound of their breathing on the phone. Finally, Addison said, "Take off your panties."
Michelle put the phone down. She quickly pushed her panties down, lifted her legs, and pulled the underwear off. She tossed the panties onto the floor next to her.
"Are you naked?" Addison asked.
"Now play with your clit some more. Rub it harder until you think you're going to cum. But don't cum, Michelle."
Without the last command, Michelle wasn't sure she could follow these instructions. But the simple fact she wasn't going to cum almost made it alright. She'd play Addison's game a little longer.
Michelle masturbated silently, allowing her heavy breathing to send its own message to the teenager on the other end of the line.
"Think of me sitting in your chair naked. I'm holding my tit in one hand, the other hand between my legs playing with my clit. I have a leg hanging over the arm of the chair, Michelle. You can see every inch of my pussy."
The young voice seemed to Michelle to be shaking, or at least rough and unsure of itself. Michelle had the image Addison described in her mind. She was, in fact, looking between the teenager's legs.
Suddenly, she was on the verge of an orgasm.
"Oh God!" Michelle exclaimed. "I have to, I'm stopping, Addison. Oh my God."
"That's alright, Michelle," Addison said soothingly. "That's alright. Rest for a few seconds."
"No. Addison. We can't...," Michelle panted.
"Shhhh. Rest for a second."
Michelle lie spread-eagle on the couch, one hand holding the phone and the other covering her eyes. Tears tried to escape, but she composed herself, took several deep breaths, and tried to relax.
A moment later, Addison's voice was back. "You OK?"
"Now...tell me how wet you are."
"I can't, Addison. This has to stop."
"You're my patient and..."
"Bullshit. Why can't you touch your pussy and tell me how wet you are?"
The silence lasted fifteen seconds. "Because I'll cum."
Addison smiled without a sound. "Touch it, Michelle. Touch your pussy."
Michelle put a hand between her legs and spread the lips apart. She searched out her hole and immediately her finger was covered with juices.
"Tell me how wet you are."
"I'm very wet. My finger is soaked."
"Now put it in."
Addison heaved an audible sigh. "Put it in."
Michelle curved her fingers over the top of her pussy and let the tip of a single finger slide inside.
"All the way, Michelle."
The middle finger slid in until the knuckles wouldn't let it go any farther.
"Slide it in and out."
Michelle began to masturbate.
"That's my tongue, Michelle. My tongue is sliding in and out of your wet cunt. I can taste your sweetness. I can feel the inside of your pussy on the tip of my tongue."
Michelle was nearly frantic in her motions.
"Tell me what you want, Michelle?"
After a long delay, she said, "Lick me."
"Oh God, Addison. Stick your tongue in me and lick me. Lick my clit."
"Do you want me to suck on your clit, Michelle?"
"Yes. Yes! Please!"
"Touch it. Now."
Michelle's hand flew up to her clit and began to rub it frenetically. Any thought of NOT cumming had totally left her mind. She was now on the sole quest of releasing the pressure Addison' had built up in her. And it wouldn't take long.
Without further instruction from Addison, Michelle masturbated to the very edge.
"God! Addison! I'm...I'm...going to..."
Michelle let the phone fall to the couch beside her. With a series of loud moans, the psychiatrist started to cum. Mutual attention to her clit and nipples prolonged the climax and allowed new ones to start as soon as one was finished.
On the other end of the line, Addison listened to it all. Eventually, her own body succumbed and she came, unbeknownst to Michelle.
A couple minutes later Michelle was able to pick up the phone, two tears winding their way down her cheeks.
"Michelle, are you there?"
The psychiatrist felt an odd security in hearing the voice again.
"Wow! That was awesome! The best ever!"
Michelle would never, in a million years, let the teenager know how right she was.
"You should go now, Addison."
Ten minutes before Addison was due to arrive, Michelle was in the ladies room, brushing her wavy brown hair and fixing her makeup. She could count on one hand the number of times she ever did that before, each time for a young man.
Michelle returned to her office and waited. When the knock on the door finally came and Michelle walked over to open it, a myriad of possibilities awaited her.
Addison had a wide smile on her face as she stepped in. Once Michelle closed the door, Addison kissed her cheek—a first for the doctor and patient. The cheerfulness of Addison's voice when they welcomed each other, and the beam on Addison's face, sent positive signals to Michelle that something was up.
"How have you been, Addison?"
Addison wore a short, summery skirt that revealed plenty when Addison pulled her legs under her on the chair. She had a blouse on that was unbuttoned down to her cleavage.
Michelle opened her laptop.
"I have a new friend," Addison said with pride.
"Don't you want to know about him?"
Michelle looked across the room. "Him?"
"Yep. He's twenty. Goes to the same school I'm going to attend in the fall. Lives near me. He's kind of cool."
"You've gone out?" Michelle asked.
"Have you had sex with him?"
Addison studied the psychiatrist closely. Was that a look of contempt? Concern? "Of course not."
"Because I have a new lover, too," Addison said.
This time Michelle stared at her carefully. Addison stared back. Neither blinked.
"Tell me about it," Michelle finally had to say.
"Well, since we can't be friends, due to some oath you took or something, then it seemed only appropriate that I label it what it really is."
Michelle tapped away on her laptop. "Do you think what we did constitutes love?"
"No. That was phone sex. Good phone sex, by the way. But the fact is, Michelle, you love me," Addison said. "And I think it's very, very cool."
The gleam in her gorgeous eyes would have pleased her doctor under any other circumstances.
"Have you ever really loved anyone, Addison?"
"I do now."
"You realize, don't you, that love involves a lot of give and take. Sometimes you have to tell the person you love what to do and sometimes that person has to tell you what to do. How do you feel about that?"
Addison extended one leg out from under her and let it hang over the front of the chair. The sandal on her foot hung precariously from her big toe and she gently swung it back and forth.
"I feel like you'll need to do a better job telling me what to do. I did all the talking on the phone and you just took orders. I think the next time I'd like you to be in control."