The Rebound Ch. 03

There's this framed photo in the waiting room that looks like something a kindergarten student would do. It depicts two garishly drawn stick figures dressed like pirates on either side of something that looks like a paper boat. Its been hanging there for a minute with a tiny metallic inscription that reads the year 1969 imbedded into the frame. Something about it, the placement on the wall perhaps makes me want to act out in over the top fashion.

The wallpaper surrounding it is light beige, embroidered with microscopic pinstripes of something akin to turquoise stripes running from the ceiling to the floor. I can't tell because of the other furniture in the waiting room. Everything seems smallish and low to the floor as I glance down at what passes for a coffee table finding a few tabloid magazines, some decidedly mainstream publications like Time Magazine and one oddly appropriate child's coloring book on the table. I feel crazy as I check the face of my phone.

I've been waiting almost thirty five minutes past my designated appointment time.

"Hey, you can come on back now." I glance up finding her in the door.

She's kind of leaning against the door frame watching me in sterilized, clinical fashion, her eyes hidden behind some old school shades. I notice her suit jacket is beige colored matching the shit on the wall while her blouse is a rich brown color along with the knee length skirt covering her lower half. Her shoes are brown too and I wonder about my own sanity as I stand up to follow her back to the office. It's my fifth visit and I notice the undeniable curve of hips straining against the material. I can't help but notice the bulging fullness of her ass which is plainly visible despite the dark colored material of her skirt.

I can't help it; I always look whenever I get a chance. It feels like she knows sometimes as she pushes the door open revealing the cramped interior of her office. It's eleven am on a Saturday and the building is almost deserted other than a few adjacent areas used for a number of rehabs. This floor is reserved for shrinks. I feel crazy as I check the face of my phone.

"Have a seat on the couch there; you can lay down if you prefer, darling." It feels kind of weird whenever she refers to me in this manner, but I never say anything about it, and I don't know why.

"We'll start in a minute; how have you been doing?"

"Sticking to the basics I guess; keeping things close to the chest and working." She retrieved a file from cabinet under her desk looking through a manilla folder.

"Nothing wrong with that; are you seeing anyone?"

"Nothing serious, nobody I want to claim." There was a laptop on her desk that she kept typing away at as we conversed.

The office itself was sparsely furnished with a basic desk, file cabinets one large behind her back along with the one under her desk and a table next to the couch which had some sort of kid's Jungle Jim toy on its surface. Sometimes I felt like playing with it but thought it'd make me look crazy.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Coworker at the insurance office where I work; we were messing around for a good two weeks."

"Not anymore?"

"No, I had to let that go because she was getting too familiar."

"Explain."

"I really liked sleeping with her and she was non threatening enough to allow into my home, but she started leaving things there, so she'd have a reason to come back. Don't get me wrong, she's beautiful and built just the way I like, but she's way too immature to have anything serious."

"Good enough to screw, but not have an actual relationship." She was still writing in that folder as I glanced out the window at the street below finding sparse traffic and a few pedestrians.

"She lives with a roommate, a guy named Ermin who's a little over the top-he's gay. That's not the problem before you ask, but he works at the same place we do and uhm, he was getting a little overbearing. Just to put things in perspective, he wanted us to hook up so that he could have some alone time with his boyfriend. Shaila, that's her name; was cramping his style and he steered her in my direction. Well, after we were kind of on the regular, Ermin didn't seem to like it all that much because Shaila was always over my house."

"He also invaded your personal space." She filled in the blank as I unconsciously nodded my head.

"Came over my house with his boyfriend, a couple of other gay dudes and a few girls from the office to quote-unquote see how we were doing. I played along, decided to be the good host ordering up some food and making drinks, but they were kind of trashing my place. No one was really talking to me and whenever I'd talk, one of the girls would stare at me like I wasn't supposed to say anything."

"In what manner did you reassert your dominance?"

"I went to my bedroom silently pissed while Shaila and her clique continued the festivities. There was this selfie stick left behind by my ex-wife. I attached it to my phone and went live on social media walking back out into the living room. I got verbally savage explaining things from my point of view, even going in on Shaila for bringing this nonsense to my home. In the end a lot of people got an impromptu show as the entire group was ejected from my home ala that old Jefferson's show. Shaila was pissed, so she was asked to leave too."

"No reconciliation?"

"She's messing around with some Nigerian dude with a huge penis; Ermin made sure to pass that information along. I just shrugged, but later I called up Nichelle to come over and top me off."

"Still messing around with your ex-wife's best friend, I see."

"Not really, we just have an understanding."

"Explain."

"We don't like each other but we're sexually compatible."

"You don't have a problem using a woman just for her body; exclusively in a sexual manner?"

"No."

"No reservations, whatsoever?"

"I spent too many years in an oppressive relationship getting the short end of the stick until happenstance came along and pissed in my cornflakes. Truth be told, I was suffocating and sexually unfulfilled way before I found out the old lady was cheating."

"Not gonna miss Shaila?"

"Somebody will come along, sooner or later." I glanced out the window watching a disheveled looking woman pushing her children across the street in a beat up double stroller. A few kids equally scruffy and filthy, shadowed her footsteps in single file.

"Interesting."

"Are we going to start the session now, Carry Anne?"

"We're finished."

She closed the folder returning it to the small file cabinet under her desk before swiveling in her chair facing me with an impassive expression I'd come to know over the last few sessions. She always wore those shades whenever we had an appointment. It put me at a disadvantage because I couldn't tell what was going on in her head. I noticed she'd let her blonde hair grow out to her shoulders since the last time I was on her couch. Some married friends suggested her as a therapist after my divorce. They said it would help me decompress.

"That was quick."

"I like to stick to the basics; some therapists bullshit their clients into a veneer of compassion that's unnecessary. I've only recently started up my practice again; you are one of two clients and I'm thinking of reducing that number to a single digit."

"So this is goodbye?"

Carry Anne folded one leg over the other giving me a view of a shapely calf as my eyes followed it down to her brown wedge heel. She leaned forward crossing her wrists over an elevated knee, regarding me for a few seconds. I couldn't deny the sliver of anxiety I felt under her gaze. It seemed like she was intently studying me for a few moments.

"I'm writing another book, so I've been gathering data for it while getting back into the groove as it were. Personally speaking, you seem well adjusted and able to define your boundaries when challenged on a personal level. There's nothing wrong with you that requires any considerable therapy."

"Well then, should we just say goodbye?"

"That depends."

"Depends, on what?" Carry Anne drew the shades away from her eyes, letting the glasses dangle over her knee as she stared at my face. I couldn't deny her mature beauty finding the act of peering into her blue eyes equally daunting.

"I'd have to say that depends on you, darling." Her answer struck me odd as she nibbled on the leg of her glasses watching me intently.

Carry Anne leaned back closing her laptop, placing her shades on top of it before checking her I-phone for a few seconds. She got up walking over to close her office door before slipping out of her jacket hanging it on a hook there. When Carry Anne turned back towards me, the buttons on her blouse were undone revealing a wealth of cleavage and an expensive lace covered brassiere as she unbuttoned her cuffs.

She stripped away the shirt watching me out the corner of her eye as she folded it over her office chair. I swallowed as my heart began thumping loudly in my chest at the sight of her. I was looking at a woman in her early fifties with the hourglass figure of a goddess. She was decidedly bottom heavy in the best possible way with very long legs that closed the distance between us in half a step. Carry Anne turned her back to me giving me a view of her own huge butt that surpassed Shaila's.

"A little assistance, darling." She wanted me to unzip her.

There was a short zipper at the top of her skirt. The tab was hidden under a buttoned flap at the waistband which I unbuttoned with trembling fingers before drawing said zipper down. Carry Anne didn't move, waiting deathly silent. My fingers found a life of their own tugging at that brown skirt hearing a bit of tearing fabric in the process. She didn't seem to mind as I continued tugging and pulling until it cleared the widest point of her hips. Underneath I found a pair of high waisted, embroidered panties functioning as little more than a thong considering the perfectly inverted heart shape of her derriere.

Carry Anne shifted her weight from one foot to the other making each cheek surge and pop in front of my eyes. I took a deep breath quickly relieving her of the underwear as well. I tried to stifle a gasp, but I was sure she'd heard it glancing over her shoulder at me with a self-assured smirk on her face. She knew exactly what she was working with, how to trigger my less than latent proclivities after a number of previous sessions which involved details about my sexual history on more than one occasion. I'd never given it any thought before but looking at the extraordinary derriere before me put missing pieces in place.

Carry Anne had me made in no uncertain terms. She was beautiful, shapely just two shades shy of voluptuous with powerful shapely long legs. This was definitely a trophy wife standing before me. I'd noticed a wedding ring on her finger before but never asked about it. Despite her age, there wasn't an ounce of fat on her body which made the huge inverted heart shape of her butt more or less, a solid mass. Carry Anne deftly released her brassiere dropping it into my lap after turning around.

"I assume we understand each other?" There was a light smattering of blonde hair on her muff.

Instead of answering, I leaned forward burying my face in her sex, deeply inhaling her scent. My hands slid from her cinched waist over the roundness of her hips as Carry Anne planted her foot flat on the cushion beside me. My tongue ran the length of her slit eventually slipping inside in scooping fashion. Her fingers dipped down spreading her flower apart so that I could get at her clit. This woman knew what she wanted subtly directing me where she wanted without a word. She abruptly drew back planting her heel on the carpet.

"We understand one another?" Carry Anne wanted an answer.

"Yeah."

She offered both of her hands and I obliged only to be relieved of the collared t-shirt I was wearing which she tossed on the side of the couch. I got to my feet finding her fingers already unbuckling my belt quickly drawing my zipper down. Her hand invaded my briefs cupping my package rolling and kneading before sliding up the base of my cock as her thumb teased the head. Her other hand drew my briefs outward allowing my endowment to flop out before her eyes. Carry Anne licked her bottom lip allowing her lips to remain parted at the sight of my erection.

She dropped into a squat drawing my pants down past my knees, hungrily taking everything between her lips, deep. There was little to no effort on her part as she began fellating me with single minded purpose. Carry Anne didn't seem to have a gag reflex taking me whole with every bob and dip of her head getting sloppy in the process. Her skill was undeniable as I found myself seated without actually recalling sitting down. It got even more surreal with things getting sloppy and nasty in seconds.

I wasn't in the driver's seat; this was her show all the way as she stood up reaching behind me snatching the cushions off the small couch pushing me down on my back. Carry Anne mounted me reaching down pressing me inside, wasting no time as her butt began bobbing and mashing down onto my crotch with force. It was almost like she was riding a horse as she planted her palms flat on my pecks sawing and driving her pelvis into me. I noticed her intermittently staring over towards the closed door like she was fearful of discovery.

Carry Anne suddenly swung her leg over my lower half tapping the outside of my thigh wanting me to get up as she got on all fours facing the widow with that amazing derriere pointed in my direction. I grabbed her hips driving myself home with the intent of reasserting my dominance, but she had other ideas. This woman knew just how to use everything she had arching her back driving her butt into my thrusts with perfect synchronicity. She was beyond wet and slippery as I thumped against her shuddering cheeks unabated. The sunlight filtered into the office playing across her skin giving it sort of a golden hue.

No matter what position, there was no doubt that Carry Anne was fucking me and not the other way around. One of her arms rested on the back of that small couch as she glanced over her shoulder watching her own twerking progress. The free hand was rubbing her mound alternately diddling herself. She shook out her blonde tresses until I got her meaning grabbing a handful wrapping it around my fist. Her thick butt came crashing backward in a series of powerful claps against my pelvis wetly.

This was too much for me as I molded my body to hers reaching up for her large breasts giving them a hearty squeeze. She didn't react right away drawing one of my hands down to her mound instead. I found her little button getting something of a light breathy gasp for my efforts and nothing more. It seemed I was out of my league with the therapist intent on directing my actions effectively objectifying me into little more than a living sex toy.

Carry Anne began rolling her hips in a wide arc taking my cock on a ride around the world, alternating with the aforementioned twerking motion in all too brief intervals that shook me to the core. I was made to feel like some inexperienced teenager in karmic fashion after my tryst and subsequent hookups with Shaila. Carry Anne was letting me know that I was a big fish in a small pond.

"Alright, stop moving." She said plainly out of nowhere.

"Huh?"

"Don't do anything; don't move." She instructed coldly without a hint of emotion.

Gradually she tightened up around me trapping my cock in a viselike grip which felt incredible. Carry Anne sharply dipped at the hip catching me off guard. I lurched forward almost head first into her back. She caught me again with the same motion as I was righting myself causing the same action to occur second fold.

"FUCKING...!!" Embarrassment and the silent challenge to my manhood fueled the vicious back shots that followed as I tried to push her through the wall only for her to pop her hips a final time causing a powerful burst to explode from my crown as I shot rope after rope into her snapping cunt. Carry Anne purposely loosened up freeing my throbbing erection as a few weak strains of milky essence lightly spurted across her left cheek. It felt like my cock had been in a grinder as I struggled to catch my breath.

Carry Anne was propped up on the couch supporting her weight on her elbows and knees watching me somewhat whimsically. She gradually righted herself sitting down with her arms spread across the back of the couch.

"Session's over."

"Uhm, well...yeah." I was addled finding it hard to look at her face.

"There's a restroom down the hall to the right if you want to clean up a little, but you have to be dressed when you leave this office. There's cameras outside and I really don't feel like dipping into my insurance money for a quickie."

"Okay, is this goodbye?"

"I'll call you, if it isn't." Carry Anne wasn't even looking, preferring to glance out her office window at the traffic below while I dressed. I walked over to the door turning one last time to find her watching. There was a knowing smirk on her face as she winked.

I had every intention of going to the restroom to wash up but once I stepped into the outside corridor, it seemed imperative that I get out of there. For me it felt like I'd lose something by going into the restroom like a good little boy even though I was in my mid-thirties. The corridor outside had dimmed lighting making things seem unfamiliar and odd as I waited for the elevator. My heart was still pounding while my cock felt like it had nearly been ripped off. There was no denying her skill set as the double doors opened revealing some poster for flu shots on the inner wall facing me.

The whole situation had come out of nowhere leaving me confused and addled as I recalled telling her the story of losing my virginity during our second session. The fact that she indicated having only two clients told me I'd been vetted for what had just occurred from the start. It was weird considering her beauty, intelligence and incredible hourglass figure. There was no doubt that I'd just had an encounter with a cougar. On second thought, Carry Anne was more of a she wolf. My cock was stirring to life as I reached the building lobby. Some custodians of the non-English speaking variety were shampooing the carpet.

The first thought upon hitting the street was to find a restroom because I suddenly had to urinate. There was a Subway sandwich shop across the walk, but I didn't want to go there because it was visible from Carry Anne's office window. I ended up walking the opposite direction to an Arby's further out of the way barely making it to the restroom almost pissing myself. My ego had taken a staggering beating after being taken by my therapist.

"I can't believe that happened." I mumbled to myself still shocked by the fifty something who'd finessed me out of my clothing.

The drive home seemed longer than usual. I sat in my parking spot replaying the events over and over again doubting that I'd ever see her again. Resolute, I needed something to take the edge off that experience dialing up Nichelle.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Can you come over; I want you."

"Not tonight; I got nobody to watch my kids, sorry." There was some annoying trap music playing in the background and I could hear kids talking excitedly.

"Shit." There was another deeper voice in the background as well.

"Hey, we might have to cool it; my man got out early." That explained the excited tone of her kids who were happy to have their father back home.

"Sure Nichelle." She hung up quickly returning to her life. There was no way I was ever calling her again after receiving further karma. I was reminded of the sickly, feeling I got after finding out about my wife's cheating.