The Cornhole Championship

byCharles Petersunn©

"John," she instructed, "sit up on the couch, facing me."

"Alright," he said, following her instruction but with some apprehension.

"John," she asked, "Do you find me at all attractive?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't be shy, John. Just answer the question as honestly as you can. It's all part of the psychodrama."

An honest answer would be to say that she was incredibly pretty; in fact, beautiful: the big gorgeous grey eyes beneath the large round spectacles, dark lashes, long wavy auburn hair, sweet red lips, delicate, thin nose and lovely, shining smile. "Well, yea, sure. You're a pretty darned attractive woman, Dr. Lowenstein."

"Well, thank you, John. That's very sweet of you to say so." It might not be professional, but she did always like hearing that a patient found her attractive. Counter-transference feelings aren't all bad, are they? "Have you ever thought about having sex with me?"

John could feel the blood flowing into his face. Why do psychotherapists have to be so insightful. He wondered if she even knew that he had already tried masturbating while thinking about her. She probably did. You really can't keep anything hidden from a clinical psychologist. Well, he would at least try. "I, uh, um, no, no, of course not."

It was a pretty pathetic lie. You didn't have to have a Ph.D. to notice that lie. Dr. Lowenstein though smiled patiently. "John," she softly explained, "transferential feelings toward your therapist are really very common in psychotherapy."

He knew going into this that therapy would be difficult, but he hadn't imagined anything like this, and certainly not so soon. He answered quietly, averting his eyes, "Yea, yea, I have, he confessed."

"Well, that's wonderful, John. That will be very helpful. Now, tell me what you have thought about, with me."

Keeping his eyes averted he told her about the fantasy he had after their first session, although it felt more like a confession than simply a recounting. He didn't though tell her all the details. He left out the part where he ate her out. He was a little embarrassed to tell her about that.

"You ate me out, didn't you, John."

"What?!" His face turned beet red. "How did you know?"

"A good therapist is intuitive about these sorts of things, John. And, besides, it's a fairly common fantasy for a male patient."

"It is?"

"Oh yes, yes, of course. It's really only natural. Now, tell me, did you have an ejaculation?"

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head in shame and embarrassment. His face grew even redder as he explained to her that he had lost his erection just when he was about to mount her on the floor.

"That's wonderful, John!"

"What? Why?"

"You experienced your problem with me. It's very common for patients to experience within therapy the problems they are having in their real lives. It's all part of transference. But it can take weeks for the transference to become as strong as it is for you now. And, well, the fact that it has happened so quickly in your case means that we can now further assess, and even begin treating your problem within the context of the therapeutic relationship."

"What?"

"Take out your penis, John."

"What?!"

"Relax, John. This is a very common variation on a well validated phallometric assessment technique. There was in fact an article precisely on this technique published in the latest issue of the Journal of Anal Psychology." It was really the Journal of Analytic Psychology, but the doctor preferred its abbreviated title. "Please, John, take out your penis, just so it's outside of your pants, so I can observe its behavior."

John could feel his heart racing, his hands trembling, his palms getting wet as he did as she instructed. It seemed like an awfully, awfully strange thing to do in therapy. She was a doctor though, and a sex therapist. She probably asks pretty much all of her patients to do this, at least at some point. Thank goodness he didn't have an erection. Wouldn't that be embarrassing. Imagine a doctor telling you to drop your trousers while you have an erection! He would frankly just leave the room rather than have something like that happen.

John unzipped his pants, reached inside, and struggled to get out his penis. He was wearing particularly tight briefs. Frankly, he didn't even use the flap when he had to pee, it was so awkward to get to it. He wondered if clothing designers actually tested their products, discovering how hard it was for guys to get their dicks out through these little flaps.

Dr. Lowenstein waited patiently. She didn't understand why he was having so much difficulty. It was likely another demonstration of unconscious resistance. She considered providing John with some encouragement but she felt that he would be able to do this on his own. He might be resisting but he would eventually have to show her his penis.

When John did finally get it out he was actually a bit disappointed that it wasn't erect. It looked awfully small just flopped out of his pants, lying there limply. A good cock should be thrusting out, sticking out. It was like his just sort of fell out. It was anything but impressive. He was reminded of why he so much preferred male doctors over female doctors.

"Very good, John," Dr. Lowenstein observed. It was actually better for the psychodrama for the young man to be limp. As she got up from her chair John appreciated the doctor's long, shapely legs, stretching out from her short summer skirt. She was wearing a white blouse and a very pretty yellow skirt that was sprinkled throughout by all sorts of gaily colored flowers. She stood before the young man, so strikingly attractive, and leaned down in front of him, the cleavage of her blouse opening up for his eyes, her lovely perfume wafting across his nostrils. John could see down within the doctor's cleavage to notice that she was wearing a yellow brassiere.

"Dr. Lowenstein," John gasped, in panic and arousal, with the panic predominating over his arousal.

"Now, John, place your hands on my breasts."

"Excuse me?"

"Just cup, or hold, whichever you prefer, each one of them in your hands, like you were going to pick out some nice fresh juicy melons."

The doctor's big grey sparkling eyes were now just inches from his, her nose almost kissing his, which was itself being intoxicated by the wondrous scent of her perfume. He reached up and grasped hold of each breast.

"Mmmmmmm," Dr. Lowenstein sighed with pleasure at the touch of the young man's hands on her breasts. An experienced older male would provide a more sensual touch, but there is also something inherently pleasing about the grasp of a very appreciative, inexperienced young man, and especially so when he is one of your patients, for whom you are providing such generously therapeutic help. Susan Lowenstein had always wanted to become a therapist, ever since she was herself an undergraduate in college, and it was at times like this that her commitment to her career, her devotion to her studies, were proven to be so worthwhile. She just loved being a therapist.

And, right now, John loved being her patient. Dr. Lowenstein had quite magnificent breasts. They were not humongous or anything like that, but they were clearly full, soft, squishy, and well rounded, and simply the fact that a beautiful woman such as her was bent over before him simply so that he could grab hold of them, squeeze and fondle them, was so darned wonderful. His dick instantly swelled without him even touching it, and for a moment he did not feel the least bit self-conscious about it.

The moment though was only brief. He did not have a particularly large cock. Plus he wasn't really even fully erect. He was just clearly on the way to getting there. He had no expectations that the doctor would say any of the things he had imagined her saying the other night, in his fantasy. Plus, he was frankly unsure that he was even supposed to get an erection. What if she was offended?

But, she actually didn't seem to take any notice of it. He wasn't too sure if that was good news or bad news. It's not particularly flattering to have a pretty woman be indifferent to your developing erection.

"Now, John, for this exercise I want you to tell me how aroused and excited you feel, on a scale from 1 to 10."

"That's easy," he quickly answered, "a ten."

"No, no," she replied, smiling at his youthful enthusiasm, "leave yourself some wiggle room or, I should say," waving her breasts back and forth in his hands, "swelling room." She suggested, "Let's make that on a scale of 1 to 100, but for this first one you can't give me a score greater than 60. Now, close your eyes and concentrate on how your cock feels right now, as you're holding my bosoms."

He did as she instructed, letting himself bask in how sexy, how arousing, how exciting it was to be grasping hold of the doctor's soft breasts. He could feel his dick swelling further. "Well, okay, this is a 60, " he finally said, "but it's really a lot greater than that."

"Well, we'll just see. Now, that's enough of that." She edged his knees apart, stood up straight and stepped up in between his legs. She reached out for his right hand and brought it right to her crotch, pressing it firmly against her mound.

If she wasn't holding onto his hand so tightly John would have quickly removed it. It just seemed so wrong, so inappropriate, to be grasping a woman's cunt through her skirt. And, this wasn't just any woman, this was a really very attractive one, and the university's psychologist no less. But, that's precisely also what made it so appealing, so exciting, so thrilling.

"Alright then, John, what is the level of your arousal meter now?" Dr. Lowenstein asked, thrusting her cunt hard into the grasp of his hand, encouraging him to get a real firm, intimate grip on her cunt. "Close your eyes and think and feel how your hand is grasping my, um, my..." She hesitated herself in saying it. She had by now worked with many patients, but there was always a bit of self-consciousness in crossing this line with a young undergraduate student. "My cunt."

John could not get as good of a feel of Dr. Lowenstein's cunt as he would like, having to grope it through two layers of clothing. At least though her summer skirt was quite loose. This made it a lot easier than if she had been wearing a tight business skirt. The gaily colored skirt was in fact quite pretty but its prettiness was not what was on his mind now. His mind was on how her soft womanly mound felt through her skirt and panties. He felt he could even feel a bit of her lips and certainly warmth emanating, radiating, from inside her skirt, and feeling his dick as well swell and stiffen even more, perhaps now just about at full strength. "Eighty," he suggested, feeling though that he could have really gone even higher.

"Alright then, you can take your hand away now, John."

He quickly withdrew his hand. "Oh yeah, sorry," he said, embarrassed over the fact that perhaps he should have known that himself, not wanting her to think that he was letting his hand linger there out of any prurient interest of his own. This was all just a doctor's laboratory exam, after all. Still, it was pretty nice gripping the doctor's cunt through her dress.

The doctor smiled at the young man. It was understandable for the patient to take a little extra feel during this procedure. One needed a bit of flexibility in the usual therapeutic rules and mores when conducting sexual psychodrama. And, besides, she did like feeling the young man's hand there herself. There was something that was so enjoyable, so pleasing and fulfilling, in experiencing a youth's enthusiastic interest in your body.

She took hold of both of his hands, stepped even closer to him, the front of her dress, her cunt, just inches now from his face, and brought his hands around her body to place them firmly on the soft, round, cheeks of her butt.

"Oh my goodness!" John instantly exclaimed. It was like an electrical switch had been turned on, a sudden surge of power, arousal, coursing through his body, energizing his very being with a lustful sexual ecstacy. He squeezed and pawed the doctor's wonderfully firm yet pliant derriere, his dick swelling quickly to its fullest capacity, twitching in the air like a divining rod that had discovered buried treasure.

"What's the score now, John?" The doctor inquired, but she knew the answer just by the expression on his face, and the groping of his hands on her butt.

John gasped, "Ninety easily, a hundred really, maybe 110."

It wasn't perhaps the most objective form of phallometric measurement but it was quite revealing. The doctor let the young man's hands linger on her bottom, feeling him explore her curves, squeezing and caressing her cheeks. She felt like pulling his face into her crotch, to rub and caress her there as well, but she knew it was important to maintain a professional demeanor and poise. Crushing the boy's face into her cunt would be going a bit far, at least at this point. She would certainly enjoy it, of course, but as a professional therapist Dr. Lowenstein would always maintain appropriate professional boundaries with a patient. This was especially important in sex therapy.

She did though eventually reach back with her hands to remove the boy's hands. But, she did it so she could step back and observe John's reaction for herself. "John, what a very lovely cock you have. Yes, you will make a girl very happy with this someday, and I suspect probably soon."

It wasn't what he had fantasied her saying the other night, but it was still a plenty darned good compliment, particularly from a doctor. A good prognosis from a doctor is always well appreciated. "Thank you, doctor," he smiled in return.

She then turned around and bent over, presenting her bottom to John, to his hands, and to his face. "There you go, John. You can get a much better appreciation this way."

John felt like he was a boy at Christmas. No girl before had ever presented her butt this way to him. He hadn't even done it from behind. He never thought a girl would like doing it that way. It just seemed so animalistic, so demeaning, for her to get on her hands and knees and stick her butt up like that for him, presenting herself to him like a doe, a dog, in heat. He now realized how so terribly sexy that position would be. The doctor's bottom looked so round and full, like a big pumpkin ready to be carved.

The doctor said, softly, "Lift up my skirt, John, and have a peek."

His eyes widened in shock, and lust. "Really?"

"Oh yes, John. It's very useful in psychodrama to act out, bodily, in treatment, one's anxieties and impulses. You can often work through conflicts and issues through the psychodramatization exercises."

John could feel his heart pounding. He was even feeling a bit lightheaded, a bit faint. He reached for the hem of the doctor's skirt, and slowly pulled it up.

Dr. Lowenstein was wearing white nylons, which accented well her shapely legs and thighs. John soon discovered that they were being held up by a matching white lace garter belt and straps attached to the comparably lacy nylon tops. He then undraped the buried treasure: Dr. Lowenstein's lusciously full round bum, wrapped tightly in her yellow bikini panties that failed to fully cover the rounded, cupped, bottom halves of her cheeks, leaving them to poke out from her panties like scoops of upside down ice cream. Her panties were themselves really quite lovely: yellow with little gaily colored tiny flowers scattered about, matching well her skirt, which John draped over her back, opening entirely up to view the pantied bottom of Dr. Lowenstein.

Dr. Lowenstein bent over even further, wrapping her arms around her partly bent knees to give her bottom an even rounder, tighter, and fuller presentation. A bottom presented in this manner was so provocative, so fetching, so inviting. It looked so big, so curved, so orbed. The shape was even a bit like a heart, much fuller and wider in the curves at the top, and coming to a V right at the pouch of her cunnie, which was itself poking out so invitingly. John's eyes though were fixed on the doctor's round fanny cheeks.

"Pull my panties down, won't you please, John?" She gave him a little wiggle of her bottom for encouragement.

John's mouth went dry as he reached out again, this time for the waistband of the doctor's panties. She was wearing her panties on top of her garter straps and so John could pull them down off her bottom without undoing her garters. It felt to John that his cock was going to stretch right out of its skin as the butt naked skin of the doctor came slowly into view.

It was indeed a heavenly moon, and John recalled his fascination, his enjoyment, with gazing at the moon, even to the point of obtaining an erection. Perhaps the doctor was right, perhaps there was some sort of meaning to his dreams, and perhaps he was staring at it right now.

He let the panties fall to the floor once they reached the doctor's thighs. He could not pull his eyes away from the crack of the doctor's ass. It seemed to have him hypnotized, mesmerized. It was so enticing, so inviting, so suggestive.

The doctor, sensing a potential breakthrough, unclasped her hands and reached back to spread open her cheeks, opening up to the boy's lustful gaping, gawking eyes, her puckered rosebud.

"Roses," John said.

"Excuse me?" Dr. Lowenstein inquired, looking back at the young man as she continued to spread open her butt cheeks.

"Roses are my favorite flower."

"Yes they are, John. I wonder why."

"I think I know," John replied, staring at the doctor's rosebud, his cock feeling like it might ejaculate without him even touching it.

Sometimes it can take days, weeks, or even months for a psychotherapist to guide a patient to an insightful revelation. One typically needs to carefully hint and suggest, but never confront too early, as the patient may only retreat deeper into a safer repressive cocoon. But, few clinicians are as skilled or as innovative as Dr. Lowenstein, who simply had to spread open her butt cheeks and display her asshole to the patient to help him discover his epiphany.

"And, what would the reason be?" She wanted her patient to fully express his insight.

John said quietly, softly, his realizations slowly sinking in, "I think it's that I really like girl's anuses, or at least, I mean, well...I want anal sex."

"Yes, John, I think you're right," the doctor replied with considerable understatement. She could have told him that she knew it all the time, but it was best to have the patient feel that the insight was his own, as he will then own it and more likely keep it. She added, softly, almost whispering as she looked back at him, "Touch it, John, with your finger."

"You're kidding!"

Dr. Lowenstein smiled, "Psychotherapists don't kid, John. Go ahead, touch the doctor's rosebud." She even squeezed her sphincter a few times. "See, it's winking at you, flirting with you, calling for you in her own special way."

John took hold of his cock with his left hand, squeezing it as he cautiously, breathlessly reached out with his right to gently lay the tip of his finger directly onto the doctor's butt hole.

"Mmmmmm," the doctor sighed with pleasure at the feel of the boy's prudent touch, and her anus twitched with the tingly ticklish sensation of his finger.

John recalled his third dream, of the girl, of Nina, as he touched what he thought in his conscious mind was her cunt, which he now realized was her anus: all dry, wrinkled, and puckered. He had never felt anything so mysterious, so alluring, so disturbingly heady. It was comparable to the first time that he had touched a girl's naked breasts, and, surprisingly so, even better than his first touch of a girl's naked cunt. John boldly asked as he gently felt the curves, wrinkles, and ridges of the doctor's pretty anus, "Can I stick my finger in it?"

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byCharles Petersunn© 14 comments/ 173044 views/ 35 favorites

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