Therapy

It was just another day at the office for me. One appointment ran into another and, considering my line of work, was a fairly normal day for me. Of course when your specialty is sexual dysfunction, neuroses and surrogacy "normal" is a very relative term.

My first appointment for the day was a woman with intimacy issues. Heather, who should have had no problem getting a man and keeping him interested in her, just couldn't seem to keep any boyfriend for long. She was definitely my type if I could only interest her in some woman to woman loving.

As this was Heather's first appointment I spent most of my time putting her at ease and trying to convince her to open up to me (preferably those gorgeous, toned, long black legs I wanted to dive between). Eventually, right before the end of our session as it turned out, she was able to tell me of how she hated her frigidity but how she seemed destined to remain that way. It seems, according to her, that it ran in the family.

Session one with Heather over I made my notes, got organized and ready for my next session. For everything that Heather was, Mr. Lawrence Glasscock was not. She was tall, for a woman, but a shrimp next to his 6' 6" frame. He was browned from tanning, her tan was definitely all natural, his accent was pure upper crust British and hers was down home Southern Alabama redneck. They were the equal but opposites of each other—one's yin to the other's yang. Oh, and one last thing, whereas she was frigid his problem was satyriasis. But they were perfect for the plan already percolating in the back of my kinky mind.

What could possibly be better than putting these two together to see if she manages to tone his desires down or if he turned her into a nymphomanical slut? The idea began percolating in my mind as to how to accomplish the goal I had in mind. I assure you; I had no plans to change him.

During the next session with each of my clients I worked slowly on learning more about their desires, their needs, their issues and their dating/marriage statuses. In this case Mr. Glasscock's appointment turned out to be first as he had to arrange his appointment before he left for an extended business trip.

"Well, Mr. Glasscock," I began.

"Please, Larry, Lawrence if you must, but not Mr. Glasscock—that is my father, not me," he corrected me.

"Ok, Larry, please tell me exactly what type of impact your 'condition' has had on you," I inquired.

His story was typical. As a small boy he'd had the usual fascination with his body parts, as he grew into a young man he masturbated rather frequently albeit in some unusual locations and at irregular or improper times, when he entered the dating scene he was drawn to women of split personalities, so to speak, as he liked women who were prim and proper on the outside, slutty, whorish and kinky on the inside. The cycle kept growing at an ever increasing rate until he finally came to me for help after finding himself covered in wet and drying cum, naked with his pants around his ankles and a vibrating anal plug in his ass, passed out in a video booth at the local adult bookstore.

Like I said, it was a typical story, the typical downward spiral of sex and degradation in the life of a male with satyriasis. Now, for those who have never heard of it, satyriasis is the male equivalent of nymphomania in a woman. And, no, it is not a redundancy. The condition, something most people have never heard of, is one that is as tough or tougher to kick than most addictions—but then who truly is healthy and doesn't like sex in some way?

His description of the first time he backed his ass up to a glory hold and was rammed savagely by a large cocked black man was so thorough it even made me blush a bit. When he told me of how, even though he is straight, he has sucked cocks as well as been fucked by them just to satisfy his urges—if even only for a few moments—I knew he was a serious case.

Now I must admit I am a bit unorthodox in my approach to sex therapy. My Glasscock about fainted when the first thing I asked him to do at one session was to remove his clothes! Let's face it this is not exactly "normal" procedures, but I did it for two main reasons: 1) To see if his reaction was normal or abnormal to a sexually charged situation and 2) Simply to get a better idea if he had the right equipment to pleasure a man or woman (though I was praying I'd get a chance to have him pleasure me after seeing his rapidly hardening cock).

To his credit, not to mention my pleasure, he stripped down to nothing in no time flat. This simple act told me a lot about him. For example, it told me that he wasn't modest, that he possibly had an exhibitionistic streak in him, that he sunbathed nude and that he was my favorite type of male—very well hung!!

Admittedly it was tough to sit there and act professionally when what I really wanted to do was put on my leash and collar, hand them to him and go to my knees awaiting his every command. I put on my most professional face however and did my job. Each question I asked him I had my own built-in lie detector that I used to see what he was really turned on by.

"What was the lie detector," you may ask. Why his turgid member of course. You see even though he may have been casual about removing his clothes there was not going to be anything casual about the questions I was going to ask him. I started by asking him questions I used as a baseline to determine what was true and false. Is Lawrence Glasscock your name? Have you ever swum at the North Pole? I make them say yes to both questions—noone actually does both so it is an automatic lie on one of them. All the while I am asking the questions I am watching his cock to see how it moves in response to them. As large as he is it is tough to miss his responses. Making him lie though causes his cock to bounce—perhaps I should make him have to lie often.

"Well, Mr., ummmm, Larry," I started, "let's start with some simple questions."

"Ok," he replied.

"How often do you dream of sex," I began.

"Do you mean while I am asleep or awake," he answered.

"So then all the time would be an appropriate answer," I queried.

"Most definitely,' his sheepish reply.

"And what do you dream about exactly," I inquired, "and please be as specific as possible."

"Well," he stated, "let me use last week's session as an example."

I nodded.

"You were wearing a nice conservative length skirt, a brilliant white top with black choker that covered you well, nice shoes with a modest heel to them and you know what I thought?" I knew what was coming but answered negatively anyway.

"I thought about how I'd like to see you in something with d-rings instead of that choker," he said.

"Continue," I said, "Tell me why d-rings. What was I doing in your fantasy/daydream?"

"You were on your knees, dressed in rather sparse leather bondage attire sucking my cock," he said confidently as if he knew it was what I wanted. And he wasn't wrong! I could feel the blood pulsing as my pussy engorged at the thought of it.

He was behind me without me even realizing he'd moved. Damn, I was daydreaming myself. I will have to be more careful in the future.

"You like that idea don't you," he said, "You don't need to answer that I can tell by the flush of your cheeks, by the way you fidgeting and moving uncomfortably, by the mere smell of your arousal wafting through the air that you do dear."

He was too damn good. I could almost hear him in my thoughts. It was as if he was reading my mind—though no one can actually do that.

"Why don't you come here and show me how good a little slut you really are and get on your knees. You can give me that sloppy blowjob you've been dying to give me slut!"

Kneeling somehow wanted to come automatically but I forced myself not to respond by doing just that. I said, "As much fun as that would be, until your therapy is over I can not do that." His expression was priceless when he realized that he had indeed hit upon my weakness—I love to be controlled by very forceful men and women, to submit, to be humiliated and debased for others pleasure. My therapist, yes therapists are required to have therapists of their own, knows this and somehow he doesn't judge me harshly.

Larry had definitely gotten my attention, when his therapy is over I am going to fuck and suck him to heaven, but first I had to get him involved in my plans for Ms. Prissy, Heather. Somehow I thought this just became easier. Alas, I was only partially right.

As our appointment ended I said to Larry, "Larry, as you leave you will see a lovely lady in the waiting room. Without letting her know look at her carefully, I think you may be able to help her more than I can."

"How," he answered quickly.

"Through you expertise in areas she has next to none in," I said. "Just go to the bathroom on the way out, wait until you hear two doors close. One will be my secretary running a sudden errand; the second will be my patient going into my office as I come out. I will then come get you and explain what you can do."

Perplexed, Larry left my office but I obviously intrigued him enough for him to do as I said. I showed up in the bathroom and explained what I needed. Thankfully he did not pass out when I told him I wanted him to make her more like him. Just before I let him out the door I stroked his member through his pants to let him know how serious I was, I could lost my license for telling about one patient to another. He now had me over a barrel for that and sexual misconduct for stroking his cock if I was wrong.

Purposely I strode back into my office and began my session with Heather. Amazingly she opened up easier today. At first we spoke of how she grew up, how strict her Bible belt parents were, how she didn't even date until she was 17. Sex, it seemed, was something never even discussed in her house except as something that directly led to the fires of Hell itself.

It is no surprise under those circumstances that Heather was a sexually stunted, sexually frustrated girl with no outlet for expression. Her friends must have seemed quite different to her, quite free sexually and, perhaps, morally. With her family stifling her and her friends encouraging her, it is no shock that she was tempted to rebel, but, alas, to her detriment family won out in this case and her repression turned into frigidity. Her frigidity, her desire not to have sex except to have kids once she was married, effectively killed numerous relationships.

Two people as opposite as can be were Heather and Larry, yet they both seemed to be the best way to cure each other. I could not wait to introduce them somehow to each other. The real question was how to do it. For obvious reasons I could not do it here, the least of which was I wanted to join them.

Session after session past with me learning more and more until I came upon a way to get them together. Why I didn't think of it earlier I don't know but it is definitely time to put my plan into action.

After learning that both had a love of pool, billiards, and a desire to either learn or were very skilled at it I set up to take lessons with one and invited the other to join me. When we, Larry and I, showed up at Heather's house together to start our lessons I could practically feel the wetness between her legs as she saw him.

Heather had obviously seen him in my office before and judging by her reaction to him being there, was indeed in lust with him. Very surreptitiously I watched as her eyes seemed to acquire that dreamy, satisfied look that people refer to as "bedroom eyes," though somehow I think, if she knew she could, he probably would barely make it past the front door.

"So, Heather, are you going to let us in or just fuck my companion with your eyes?"

"Huh," she stammered as she blushed deeply red.

"My dear I've been talking for several minutes now but I don't think you've heard a single word," I stated.

"Oh," she said, "by all means please come in."

Why did I think she actually meant, "Please cum in ME"?

As Larry and I entered the house the heat, though already 100 degrees out today, seemed to rise even more. Heather's gazing again at Larry continued unabated until he began to feel uncomfortable, imagine that, a satyr uncomfortable with a look of lust, with it and started squirming like a worm on a hook.

"Heather," I started, "why don't you two just get down to business and get naked!"

Both of their jaws dropped open in unison.

"Don't act so surprised Heather," I said, "You've practically started dripping your cum on the floor since we walked in the door. Hell, both he and I would have to be dead to miss the divine scent of your arousal."

He grinned.

"What are you grinning at Larry?" I chided him. "You've had a major erection since I mentioned who the pool teacher would be. It has been a major challenge to not jump your bones or, at the very least, jack you off while we drove here."

His grin widened as she outright leered at him as well as I.

"Ok," I intoned, "now that you I did not get you together to play pool I may as well tell you the rest. And, just so you know, I can get in big trouble for doing this. I decided to get the two of you together for a few reasons. 1) Medically speaking you are as near exact opposites as two people can get. Heather's frigid Larry, Larry is affected with satyriasis, male nymphomania Heather. I figured if I put the two of you together that perhaps you could help cure each other. My intention is that Larry can help you Heather by teaching you to enjoy sex. And Heather, you can teach Larry that moderation can be better than having it all the time.

As Larry reached for Heather they closed the gap between them as if they were magnetized. He pulled her deep into his strong arms and kissed her passionately, deeply, fervently without hesitation. His tall, lanky frame loomed over hers by about a foot but, luckily for both of them; it put her closer to where she wanted to be in the first place—face to face with his hard cock.

It seemed it only took the right man to inflame her lusts buried deep in her loins as she went to her knees mindless of the fact that I was still there in the room with them, nor did she even flinch as I began to massage her extremely large breasts from behind her. Or perhaps it only took the right set of people to inflame those passions, for, before you knew it, she was naked sucking Larry's already hard member and working to bring him off in her mouth while sitting over me as I ate her out.

The wait to see Larry's completely naked body took too long but was definitely worth it because by then there were three naked, temporarily sexually satisfied people who had cum at least 10 times between us. Together the three of us fell asleep in each other's arms with our heads on Larry, who was in the center, and his fingers buried in our dripping wet pussies.

After he finally awoke, to the double blowjob that Heather and I were giving him, we asked, in unison, "So, do you think this therapy should continue with more in-depth probing?"

He simply smiled broadly.