Christy, the Sex Therapist Pt. 01

Very carefully and methodically, Christy removed the condom from Marcus's dick. His pants were still around his ankles as he flopped back down onto the couch, completely spent. "Look at this mess, Marcus", Christy scolded. She held the spent rubber up in front of Marcus and he could see the huge load of semen she'd coaxed out of him. "What a mess you've made. It's a good thing I put this thing on you, or you would've cum all in my mouth or on my face. You would've ruined my makeup and lipstick for the rest of the day and that would've been completely unacceptable. I'm not sure what my next client might've thought if I opened the door with your sticky jizz all over my face."

Marcus's mind was such a complete blur, he couldn't tell whether Christy was serious or not. His doubts were erased when Christy upended the contents of the condom onto her fat tongue. She savoured the taste and then swallowed, with a very satisfied 'ahhh!'. "You taste good", she said.

Marcus was still catching his breath and waiting for the synapses in his brain to rearrange themselves. "I'm loving these sessions so fucking much, Christy. I'm so glad I started seeing you." He vaguely remembered that he first came to Christy to talk about how difficult he found it to fuck people he loved, but with his dick still echoing faint spasms after what was probably the best blowjob of his life, he quite literally couldn't give a fuck.

Christy stood back up and looked Marcus directly in the eye. She could still taste his cum. Marcus could smell it on her breath. "From now on, it's Miss Christy."

Marcus gulped and nodded. "Yes, Miss Christy."

Marcus had no idea how he'd last four infinitely long weeks before his next appointment. He'd never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life.

*

5

Marcus could barely sleep the night before his next appointment with Christy. Are you fucking surprised? He jerked off pretty hard before he went to sleep, but he was still a nervous bundle of sexual energy. He lay awake in bed, trying to piece together those four or five minutes last month when Christy put his penis in her mouth and made him cum. He had no idea that this was part of 'sex therapy'. He remembered, through a thick fog of post-cum bliss how she squeezed his semen out of the rubber, swirled it around her mouth, and swallowed it. It was probably the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. He knew the only way he was going to be able to get some sleep was to masturbate again.

His laptop was resting on the floor next to his bed, but he didn't need porn tonight. All he needed right now was the electricity of anticipation that was already coursing through his blood. He touched his cock. He started wondering what Christy might be wearing tomorrow. He imagined a wide variety of long sexy boots, short skirts and tight tops, but when he imagined her showing up to their session topless, his dick fired ropes of cum all over his chest and all over his bed sheet. He cleaned himself up with the box of tissues on his bedside table. His bed linen soaked up the remainder.

He slept for about an hour and a half, but it was a restless sleep. He woke up with a massive erection that demanded immediate attention. He thought of Christy again, and precum oozed out of his cock. He remembered his last appointment when Christy got up off her knees after swallowing his seed from the condom, and he remembered her telling Marcus that from now on, she was MISS Christy. He lost his shit again. Ropes of cum drenched his torso and crotch. The box of tissues was called into action again. His bedroom probably reeked of cum, but he didn't care.

He'd cum three times in a matter of hours. He was pretty sure he could cum again, but he had no idea what tomorrow had in store. He wanted to make sure his balls weren't completely empty. Just in case.

He drifted off to a shallowly anxious sleep, remembering that Christy had said she was happily married and that she had a fulfilling sex life. Marcus knew he wasn't ugly, but he knew he wasn't top of the manpile either. 'Sounds like she's got good dick on tap, so why did she suck *my* dick?' It was a question with no immediate obvious answer.