Bridey and Bridey

"It's time to close your eyes again, Bridey, and go back, back into your mother's arms."

She didn't go under right away. She continued to masturbate herself and I couldn't not look. But, after a knowing smile and wink, just like that she was out, asleep and snoring lightly.

Once I was sure she was completely down, I stood up, crept over and with the utmost gentle touch, pulled her panties back over her vulva. The smell wafting up from her genitals just about turned me into one huge erection. I was barely able to pull her dress back down before I stumbled out into the outer office, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest, light headed from hyperventilating, and unable to walk upright, my cock was so huge inside my slacks. I teetered into the bathroom and pulled it out and within a few strokes I'd emptied my sperm sack into the sink, and inside my fevered brain, into the wet, willing, wanton woman asleep in the other room.

I no longer felt like a clinical psychologist. I was a lust addled pervert. I could lose my license.

What was I to do? Bridey was making huge steps toward overcoming her disorder. I was curing her. But it would be at the cost of my license. Or sanity.

She haunted my every waking moment, and lying in bed at night I just stroked and stroked my erection, even after ejaculation, with no other stimulation than the images of her lying back on the recliner, fondling her flesh. Her sweet, pretty face. Pale skin and wild red hair. Proud and prominent breasts. And those eyes. Mischievous, naughty, challenging, knowing, looking right inside me, tempting, tantalizing...what was I to do?

The next appointment came too soon. I wasn't ready to sink into that morass of...unprofessional behavior. But there she was, looking even better than last time, in many ways. She was lively, with a spring in her step, glow in her cheek, even somewhat talkative, and the tight vest, peasant shirt and ruffled dress brought out her stunning Irish beauty.

"I slept last night, Doctor," she volunteered. "I don't know how long, but I slept."

"That's wonderful, Bridey," I exclaimed, and hoped it signaled the beginning of the end of our association. Maybe I could stop the train wreck my career, and life, was heading for. "What has made the difference?"

"Dreams," she said. She still wouldn't really make eye contact for more than a few brief seconds. She was wandering around the office, looking at things. "I have such...nice dreams."

"Would you like to tell me about them?"

"They are kind of silly, really," she laughed. "I seem to be in water a lot. Swimming in a river on a hot day. Diving into a lake. That kind of thing. In one dream my bed was under water and the moon was shining down on me."

I congratulated her on her progress and we moved into the inner office. She sat down promptly and reclined the chair. I barely got through the beginning sentence and she was under. I decided to see if I could just deal with Bridey this time, not the other personality.

"Bridey," I said, "I want you to just go back a few weeks in your mind, to the time just before you and I began these sessions."

"Why would I want to do that, Dr. Tom?"

I looked up from my clipboard. Bridey was staring at me with those wild Irish eyes, lying sideways in the chair facing me.

"I think you like me, Doctor," she said, smiling, the brogue made her voice even more alluring.

"Bridey Cleary," I said, firmly, calmly, "I need to speak to the other Bridey."

"She's a bit timid."

"Does she know about you?"

"No," she laughed, "I think I'd scare her. Certainly I'd shock her. I only come out with you."

"How would you shock her?"

She slowly lifted her dress, a gradual exposure of her legs, all the while watching me.

"Bridey Cleary," I said, struggling to keep my aplomb, "You must control yourself."

"I'd rather you controlled me, Dr. Tom," she said, softly. And she lifted the dress all the way up to her panties. She spread her legs and put her hands on either side of her inner thighs. "Would you like a little taste of me pudding?" she whispered.

"I could lose my license."

"You could lose that fever burning you up at night, too." She began to caress herself, softly stroking her labials and clit.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I'm horny. Didn't you say it was perfectly normal, Dr. Tom?"

"Who is Dr. Tom?"

"You, silly man," she chuckled, "You've been the village doctor since your father gave you his job."

"Of, of, Ballyvalley?"

"Yes, Ballyvadlea," she said, cocking her head at me. "Why are you asking such a silly question? Of course. We've known each other since childhood. And," she pulled her panties aside and I couldn't help but stare at the perfect white flower of skin and flesh, so soft, so delicate, the center of it beginning to seep, "I'd be a fool of a woman not to want to bed the good doctor."

"Why?"

"You're a good man, Tom," she said, and there was a sincerity in her voice that cut through the sexual tension for a moment.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Dr. Smith," she said, returning to that wicked smile, "fuck me. Show me that fat sausage of man flesh trying to rip out of your pants."

"I want you to close your eyes, Bridey."

"No."

"Close your eyes, now."

"Just a little taste, now, you know you want to. It can be our little secret. Just put your tongue into me cunny and taste me."

"Bridey..."

"She will never know. You can cum on my legs so there's no trace of you when she wakes."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's exactly what she needs. Do you know why she's sleeping at night now?"

"Why?"

"She uses her brush handle and whispers your name. And," she dipped her fingers inside herself and began stroking herself in earnest now, "you set her up to it. You know you did."

I sighed.

"And you are a good man and a wonderful doctor for it. Now, please, come over here and show me your cock. Please!?"

I was caught. The subject would not comply with my suggestions. She had full control of the situation, including having put me in a state of extreme arousal. I couldn't walk away and leave Bridey Cleary in the recliner. Worse, I couldn't not look at the mouth watering display of her open and slightly damp genitals just a few feet away.

I stood up and walked over to stand in front of her recliner. She lowered the foot rest and scooted her hips forward so that they were lined up with my crotch. The smell seized up my brain.

"Heal thyself, Doctor," she whispered.

And so, I threw away my credential, my career, my office, colleagues, income, respect, sanity. And I lowered my pants.

She gasped, with delight. Out sprung the fully tumescent length of my poor underused member. And it was pointed directly at the engorged lips and gaping slit of her vagina. She reached down and grabbed it.

"Thank you," she said, simply, and pulled it to her wetness. As I hunched my hips forward and slowly slid my penis head into the first soggy few inches of her channel, she grabbed hold of her legs to spread them farther and lay back in the chair. She was breathing hard. "Fuck it, Tom, fuck me cunny until I cum. It's what we need."

And I did just that. I was no longer a doctor, a specialist, clinical. I was a man. Sinking my inappropriately hard, irresponsibly nasty cock into the sopping wet clutch of her cunt, rocking back and forth with increased speed and determination, feeling the lust and power surge through me. She opened her vest and shirt and began mauling her own tits, pinching the nipples and squeezing those magnificent mounds, her breathing becoming raspy and uneven. Her hips were squirming.

I grabbed her ass and hefted her into me, using my hold on her firm round ass cheeks to really begin pounding myself into her. She came, a swooning, whining, sweet, beautiful, blushing orgasm, wetness surging around her stretched pussy lips, whispering my name over and over, "Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, oh Tom."

I was amazed I didn't cum at the same time, but it was part of the power I felt, the raw, animal strength that seized me, gave me a sense of being in control again, giving this woman the final and most important treatment I could give her. I wanted to fuck her till she passed out.

"Roll over, Bridey."

She did, and because the recliner is electric and stayed reclined her legs hung down, and I pulled up her dress to expose her ass, two full moons, which rose up to accommodate my angle of attack. She propped her torso up on her elbows.

"Put a hand under yourself and stroke your clit while I fuck you, Bridey. And cum again, and again, and again."

It was a suggestion. But she was, at that very moment, very suggestible.

Finally, after seeing her go through a series of twitchy orgasms, becoming more and more convulsive, grunting and panting, I let myself cum. I pulled out and stroked my rigid and swollen penis, launching a geyser of cum splotches onto her back and ass and then sort of collapsing onto her back.

"You are a good man, Tom," she managed to groan, the brogue very thick. "A very good man." She was breathing too hard to continue. When she was finally able to speak again, she said, "Now go in the other room, get a wet washcloth, warm water please. Wash the cum off me back. Then I'll smooth my rumpled clothes, lay back and you can put me to sleep again in me mother's arms. She'll wake up some time later very relaxed and happy and wonder why she feels so good."

And that's what happened. Five hours later, Bridey awoke and she was fairly radiant, glowing with red cheeks and a sort of flushed, relaxed and soft kind of joy about her. She thanked me for another session, still unable to make eye contact, and was out the door.

I was completely devastated by my behavior. I lost all faith in myself, and respect. I'd have to quit. I left early, closed the office and went home. I was unable to do anything. I just sat in my front room staring out the window. The moon rose over the bay. It was beautiful. She never left my thoughts.

The next day I began packing my office things into boxes, left early and went out on my surfboard, but I didn't catch any waves, I just rode the swells until it turned dark.

I had canceled all my appointments. Except one. And she showed up right on time the next morning. I was intending to reveal what had taken place, what I had done to her, and apologize.

Bridey was very quiet. She looked rested, confident, but there was a noticeable determination in her step. She wouldn't let me begin talking.

"I can no longer be your patient, Doctor Smith," she said. And with that she walked into the inner office. I waited a moment, dreading the confrontation awaiting me in there. I finally lifted myself out of my chair and walked slowly in to take my medicine.

"Bridey, I..." I stopped.

She was in the recliner, laying back in full recline mode. That surprised me. But when she lifted her legs and set her feet on the foot rest, my heart stopped beating for a moment. She was looking directly at me and she slowly, gradually, shyly even, spread her legs and pulled her skirt up.

"I met Bridey last night, Doctor, Bridey Cleary," she said, her voice full and womanly and direct. She was wearing no panties.