Fatima Pt. 02: Hermione

'How did you respond?'

'I told her that it was quite normal for patients to become attracted to their psychiatrists.'

'Did she buy that?'

'Not for a minute. She said she knew I liked women, knew I had been fantasising about having sex with her. But I felt very much in control, staying calm and professional and moving the focus of the session onto something else. I was in my office, it was my domain, I felt no threat from her there. My receptionist was outside, people were in the waiting room. We continued to meet for several months before she thanked me and told me she felt she had gone as far with me as she could for the moment. "For the moment." I always remembered that, so that when she called me and told me she was suffering an anxiety attack, those words came back to me. I knew she wanted me in her own flat, in her own bedroom, so she could go further with me. I went to her place like a lamb to the slaughter.'

'She locked the door. What happened next?' asked Fatima, her finger tracing gentle circles on Hermione's clitoris.

'She told me she wanted me to get into bed beside her. I started to draw the duvet back when she laughed and asked me if I normally got into bed fully dressed. I said I hadn't brought a nightie and she said she didn't wear one either. To prove it, she loosened the cord on her little robe and let it fall open. As I had known all along, she was wearing nothing beneath it. She slipped it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She asked me if I liked what I saw. I told her she looked after herself well and she laughed. She told me to take off my clothes. I told her I would keep my underwear on. She laughed again and said I could suit myself. She stood watching me as I took off my blouse and my skirt. She told me I looked as good as she had imagined. I didn't say anything but took refuge under the covers. The sheets were fresh and smelt of conditioner. '

'She got in beside me and turned out the lights. I turned my back on her and she laughed again. She lifted my hair and kissed the back of my neck. I tried so hard not to respond but I let out a gasp. She found my bra hooks and undid them before I had a chance to turn or say anything. I placed my hands over my boobs but she just lifted them up and removed the bra. I waited for her to try to pull down my panties and I didn't have to wait long. I pressed my thighs tightly together but this didn't prove much of an obstacle for her. Down they went and now I was completely naked. And very turned on.'

"Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you?" she said.

'I had already surrendered but I decided to put up a fight. Maybe I thought it would turn her on more. I knew it was turning me on. I told her I was okay with sleeping with her to keep her company but that sex was out of the question. Even as I used the word "sex", I felt a tremendous ache in my loins. I could feel how wet I was getting. I was convinced she must be able to smell my arousal.'

'Of course, she laughed again - for the last time. She eased her fingers between my legs and entered me. I remember feeling embarrassed at how wet I was. I also remember giving up the fight. I turned to face her, there in the dark, only able to make out her vague shape, and we kissed. She was a very good kisser, receiving as well as giving. I remember thinking she needed sex (or was it intimacy?) to make her whole, to heal her. Then I realised that it wasn't so very different for me. Then I stopped thinking and we made love - passionately, sometimes almost violently, for hours. Dawn was breaking when we finally fell asleep. I only just remembered in time to set the alarm for a reasonable hour so I could be home at the normal sort of time after an all-nighter.'

'I never saw her again, although we kept in touch for a while. She went off to a university in Scandinavia somewhere. She sent me a note thanking me for helping her deal with her depression. I've still got it somewhere.'

'I want you to make love to me like you made love to her,' said Fatima, removing her finger from Hermione's clitoris. 'Start by undressing me and telling me what you like about my body.'

Hermione slipped the knot on the belt of Fatima's cover-up and couldn't suppress a murmur of surprise as the silver bra and panties were revealed.

'I'm glad I chose this,' Fatima said softly. 'I was pretty sure you loved sluts.'

Rather than answering her, the psychiatrist pushed Fatima's long hair to the side and tugged at the strings that served as straps and then those that served as side wings.

'Wow!' she said with obvious ingenuousness. 'Great boobs!'

She wasted no time removing the obscenely tiny panties in similar manner.

'God!' she gasped. 'What a jewel!'

'Fuck me like you fucked that psycho!' Fatima told the shrink.

'I might turn dangerous if you don't,' she added.

Hermione weighed up her options for a few moments before proceeding. There was so much she wanted to do with this woman, with all her surprises and contradictions. She even thought of opening the young woman's clutch bag and taking out what she knew was a strap-on from the penis-shape bulge. But no, they could fight over that later.

'Actually,' she thought, 'what I most want to do is to kiss the girl, just like I wanted to kiss her the first time I saw her in the restaurant.'

So they kissed - still standing there beside the bed. Hermione had no cause to regret her decision, as the Pakistani girl was a good kisser. This time, though, when Fatima's hands began to wander, the doctor held them tight and then, freeing one of her own hands, gave her bottom a playful slap.

Fatima was more than happy for the older woman to be taking control. She wanted to be the recipient and beneficiary of all the experience she had picked up over the years. She'd try to be a good girl.

Having released Fatima's hands, Hermione ran her hands over her body almost as if she was checking for lumps.

'You can take the doctor out of the clinic, but you can't take the clinic out of the doctor,' thought Fatima.

She was being a bit dramatic, since the only lumps Hermione really wanted to focus on were her full breasts. No longer kissing her, she stood back a half-step and cupped them for a good ten seconds. She nodded her approval, then moved in to use her tongue on them, making straight for the nipples. She didn't do a lot more than just lick them, as if she were a cat languidly drinking milk from a saucer. The nipples didn't seem to mind - Fatima powerless to do anything about it as they swelled swiftly.

'How wet are you, Fatima?' the psychiatrist asked, sensing how aroused the girl was becoming.

'Why don't you find out for yourself?' Fatima responded, knowing for her own part what she was doing to the older woman's equilibrium.

'Get on the bed, facing me,' Hermione told Fatima, who instinctively knew what exactly she meant by 'facing me.'

Happy enough to comply, the dusky beauty thrust her ass at Hermione, drawing apart her cheeks so that the older woman was caught in two minds whether to focus on her puckered asshole or her slit, from which her lips dangled like an aircraft's undercarriage.

'Touch yourself!' she told her. 'A finger on each hole.'

Fatima went one better, pushing one slender finger into her anus, while another dropped easily into her pussy, which appeared to swallow it up. Finding the performance immensely erotic, Hermione knelt on the bed and watched.

'Bring yourself off!' she told the younger girl, remembering how she herself had reached a stupefying orgasm in the bathroom frigging to images of a naked Fatima.

Fatima seemed only too happy to oblige, jamming another finger inside her tight, yet slippery hole. Hermione took her skirt and panties off in a flash, then took advantage of the Pakistani girl's euphoric state to steal across the room and get the dildo, which she deftly harnessed into its strap. Putting it on with similar ease, she waited until the girl had orgasmed, then flipped her over onto her back and set to work on her pussy - with her tongue. For starters.

'No need to rush things,' she thought. 'We have all night...'

Fatima hadn't planned things this way, but was in no position to put up a fight. Basically, if the mountain wouldn't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain. She could live with that. More than live with it, she thought, as Hermione's soft tongue landed on her pussy lips, giving her ultra receptive skin little kisses and generally familiarising itself with the terrain.

Stretching her arm out, she offered her hand to Fatima, who happily took a couple of fingers in her mouth, coating them with her saliva. Knowing what Fatima hoped she would do with them, Hermione was in no mood to disappoint her, inserting first one finger, then the other into the place where her own fingers had recently brought her so much pleasure. Tweaking her plans slightly, she moved her mouth to Fatima's breasts, watching in awe as her nipples first doubled, then trebled in size before her eyes, while continuing to work her fingers smoothly and without any urgency in and out of the girl's pussy.

It took only a minute or so before Fatima's breathing began to come with difficulty and she stood on the brink of orgasm. Experienced campaigner that she was, Hermione knew she needed to do nothing more, that the climax would happen in its own good time. She toyed with the idea of hastening it but resisted the temptation - such as it was. Actually, the lovemaking was so sensual and so relaxed that Hermione felt that she was surfing on the crest of a wave - a very long wave, one that never seemed to break. She could feel Fatima going through the gears until finally she hit the wall. What a contrast her tumultuous orgasm made with the languor of the build-up!

12

While she made love to Fatima, Hermione had been mindful of the dildo that was banging against the younger woman's thighs. That awareness, she realised, as Fatima toppled over the edge, needed to be translated into something concrete, otherwise the Pakistani girl might be left in a state of frustration. Furthermore, any failure to act on her part might lead to an attempt by Fatima to wrest back the initiative.

Hermione told her to get on all fours and marvelled again at that incredibly cute asshole, just waiting to be cherished and adored. She shimmied forward on the bed and began to feast on the gossamer-like texture, delighting in the taste of salted caramel. Her taste buds screaming at her for something more - something different - she moved the short distance to her gorgeous cunt and began to lick her out once more, this time with an impatience born of the desire to fill her two wondrous orifices with that unsleeping cock.

Fatima knew what was coming but was powerless to do anything about it. From the moment she entered Hermione's room with her strap-on in her bag and had caught her off guard, whipped off her bra and started licking her full tits, she had felt unassailable. Looking at the state she had now been reduced to, she had to wonder where it had all gone wrong and how she had come to be so thoroughly under the older woman's thumb. The thought that she was about to be invaded by her own strap-on was the icing on the cake. Then she remembered the incredible feelings she had experienced when Hunter had taken her in the ass for the first time on that momentous night nearly a year ago when she had first met him. Suddenly, any resistance she might have felt to being ass-fucked by this married mother-of-two melted away.

For her part, Hermione, though ostensibly pleased to be drinking Fatima's freely flowing love juices, was afflicted by a sense of dissatisfaction, by a longing for something that remained forever outside of her grasp. Like a person who wants any of the gifts at a Secret Santa apart from the one they have been given, she craved the Pakistani girl's tongue on her folds. She craved a lot else besides, which she didn't want to think about, in the childish belief that, if she thought about it, it wouldn't be a surprise and wouldn't bring her the same delight.

The upshot of her inner turmoil and confusion was that she told Fatima she going to punish her for showing a blatant lack of respect for her. Of course, she didn't explain in what way she had managed to do that. Secretly, she also wanted to punish her for being a bad Moslem, even though she was herself an atheist; more than that, a member of Humanists UK and a vocal supporter of the Brights movement. But this wasn't about being rational, about being a good scientist. This was all about obtaining the most pleasure she could from this chance meeting, about squeezing out every last drop of enjoyment from the opportunity that had fallen into her lap.

Accordingly, she lined the merciless glass dildo up against Fatima's pussy, turned on beyond measure by the idea that it had been the girl's intention to use the weapon on her. She had no intention of beating about the bush. Rather than introduce it incrementally, she pushed it into Fatima's tight young cunt, not stopping until it had embedded itself completely inside her.

'Aaargh!' the Moslem girl groaned.

Hermione couldn't be sure if it was an expression of pain or one of desire, but frankly she couldn't care. At this moment, the Hippocratic Oath meant absolutely nothing to her. She retracted the monster and was driven even more mad with desire by the sight of the moisture that glistened back at her in the well-lit room.

'I'll start with a gentle tempo and then build up the pace until she can take no more,' she told herself, her mind already racing ahead to the pounding she was going to give her asshole.

She had to admit that the girl was game, as she was making a huge effort to stifle the moans that were begging for release from her mouth. However, as soon as Hermione pressed the accelerator, the muffler came off.

'Oh, fuck! Oh my god!' she cried. 'Please, I don't think I can take this.'

Hermione was of half a mind to tell the girl of her plans for her back passage, but didn't want to scare her off. Instead, she told her she'd be fine - the cock was a perfect fit for her pussy.

'Perhaps you've had plenty of practice with that attentive husband of yours,' she said with a smile.

The smile would have been a lot wider if she knew just how big that husband was. As it was, she got back to work, increasing the tempo sharply, as if she were giving a performance of Ravel's Bolero. Just as in Ravel's masterpiece, there is near the end a sudden key change from C major to E major, so on that bed on that evening at around midnight Hermione suddenly switched from the role of actor to that of patient. She realised she was on the verge of coming almost after the orgasm hit her. Crying out, she was powerless to prevent herself from driving the appendage deeper into Fatima's vagina.

'I'm coming!' she screamed, like a man who is shooting his load, even though she had actually come a few seconds before.

Just as Ravel's piece goes back into C after only a few bars, so did the focus of attention turn back to Fatima, as she yelled out under the impact of the climax which had been building up for so long.

Neither woman seemed to want a break; they understood that the sensations which they had already experienced were likely to be as nothing compared to what awaited them. The main issue that needed to be decided was who would assume control of the encounter at this point. And that became moot, when Hermione, still brandishing the fearsome dildo, brushed off Fatima's attempt to kiss her when she returned from the bathroom and ordered her to get on all fours again.

'I'm going to fuck you in the ass like a dog', she told her.

Fatima thought of standing up to her but the thought of that expertly wielded cock entering her where Hunter had pioneered a trail was just too much for her. Notwithstanding all that, she couldn't stop herself from reflecting on the doctor's complete lack of empathy. Notwithstanding the story she had told her, she reckoned she must be the sort of shrink that if a patient told her she was thinking of committing suicide would tell her to go ahead and jump!

'Talk about being prepared!' Fatima thought, as Hermione calmly informed her that she would just lube her up.

'It's just as if she were prepping me before an operation,' she said to herself.

'Okay,' the doctor said in her best attempt at a bedside manner. 'I'm going in now.'

Fatima wasn't sure what would be entering her, and was gratified when she discovered it was nothing more than her finger. She made a conscious effort to show no response (especially, no positive reaction) as the woman's finger plumbed the depths of her anus. But it was a damn close run thing, especially when her thoughts turned to the imminent invasion of her ass by the huge cock. However hard Fatima might have been trying to hide her emotions, Hermione knew full well the pleasure she was giving her. She grinned as she started to lube up the glass giant, looking forward to the explosion that would rack Fatima's body when the unyielding column entered her.

When the tip of the bulbous head made contact with the sensitive surrounds of its target, Fatima's muscles, rather than tightening, relaxed to receive her gift. Within a matter of seconds, the tool was inside her, edging its way forward, eliciting moans and gurgles of undisguised ecstasy.

'Am I bigger than your husband?' Hermione asked, rhetorically, since no man, as she thought, could match this weapon.

'Fuck, yes!' replied Fatima, more worried about upsetting Hermione than about strict veracity.

Along her receptive passage moved the dildo, like a train on its inexorable way to journey's end.

'Aw, fuck!' cried Fatima, almost at the limits of her powers of endurance.

Hermione placed her hands on the girl's hips and pushed with her pelvis until her mission had been accomplished. But there was to be no letting up, as she barely paused before she began pumping the girl with an alacrity born of her rising levels of desire.

'I don't think I can take it!' Fatima said, speaking as evenly as she could, worried that Hermione might not look upon a more dramatic or heartfelt appeal with favour.

'You'll be fine,' Hermione assured her. 'You must remember that I'm a professional.'

She managed to hold this conversation without breaking stride, though whether that was a measure of her professionalism or not I'll have to let the reader decide. Fatima, almost beyond the realm of rational thought, made the decision whether consciously or subconsciously that she would not put up a fight. It could only make things worse, she concluded. It was a wise move. A minute or two later, she was concerned about nothing except the orgasm which was stealing up upon her, and which she wanted simultaneously both to hasten and delay.

'Yeah! Don't stop!' she told Hermione, not caring whether this would adversely affect the woman or not.

Smiling broadly, the shrink drove the dildo home with long, even strokes. This time, she knew that she herself wouldn't come, but she was cool with that. She was more than confident in the Pakistani girl's ability to bring her off in due course.

Fatima clenched her teeth, drove her fingernails into the mattress and enjoyed the same kind of orgasm that Hunter had provided her with all those months before. All that was missing was the feeling of the wad of hot jism being released inside her glory hole.

Fatima had scarcely recovered from her orgasm when Hermione suddenly announced that that was it for the night: she had an early morning session and needed to get some sleep. She took off the strap-on and handed it back to Fatima; perhaps in the circumstances not the smartest thing to do.

When she saw the younger woman put it on, Hermione made her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She took the opportunity to brush her teeth and prepare herself for bed, putting on a robe that was hanging on the back of the door. She re-entered the room and saw no trace of either Fatima or her clothes. She went to check her phone, which she'd left on the table beside the bed, and was in the middle of sending a message to her husband when she was grabbed from behind.