Whorishly Professional

Taking a seat in the lobby of his psychiatrist's office, Avery crossed his legs and picked up an issue of Vogue off the end table beside him. He never understood fashion's do's and don'ts but the people around him always complimented him on his innate sense of style.

He wasn't attracted to the models in this magazine; there was no basis for attraction. Their billowing garments, intricately patterned and sharp coloured made it difficult for him to perceive the natural beauty they undoubtedly possessed.

What Avery yearned for was some ass-in-them-leggings, and nowadays, due to the pant's extreme comfort and association with fitness, many girls regularly had their lower bodies enveloped by these new-aged tights, leaving no crevice for the mind to envisage.

"Avery," called a voice coming from the corner of the lobby. It was his therapist, Becky, beckoning him to hurry his ass up and get into her office.

The contrast between the formless models and Becky's skin-hugging outfit jump-started his arousal.

"What's with the rush?" Avery grinned as they continued past the door that separated the lobby from a corridor leading to her office.

"You know why you're here."

"Do I, now? Because I really do forget at times. I came here begging for your help and now it seems that you can't do without mine."

They walked into her office. She shut the door and turned on the white-noise machine atop the end table by the chaise longue.

Avery reclined back on the sofa, letting his gaze rest on the blankness of the ceiling. Becky sat in a swivel chair to the right of the sofa.

He clasped his hands over his stomach and started, "You know, I feel used after I exit this room."

Becky stood up.

Her heels accentuated her legs and her leggings compounded that. She wore a tight black top overlayed with a cropped black blazer. Her dark brown hair took the form of a shore line, flat before curling inward at the ends.

Becky placed a knee to the right of Avery's head then swung her other knee over him so that and arch formed above his head.

The white ceiling above him, yellow-tinged by a desk lamp was replaced by blackness. The air above him had suddenly become moist.

Avery reached his hand out in front of him, cupping her crotch.

"Your pussy's wet already?" he said.

"Did you expect me to be dry? When have I ever been dry around you?"

"You're like Pavlov's dog."

"The moment you walk into my office, honey."

Becky bent over and wagged her ass above Avery. The more she wiggled it, the higher the tent pitched below his waist became.

"I see you like when I shake it like that, huh?"

"I can't hold back—you're a smoke. That fat, tan ass; the way you throw it around; that whoreshly professional outfit."

"Aw, thank you baby."

"But I could still use some actual counseling from time to time."

"We'll get back to that, I promise. But as for right now—"

She peeled back her leggings so her exposed ass hovered above him with all its glory. Her wet pussy, equally as plump, glistened in the dim, soothing light.

"Is this part of my treatment—"

Becky dropped the entirety of her ass upon his face. She wriggled around, smothering his face with her pussy before arching it back over again.

"—plan?" Avery finished.

"Yes. This is part of your treatment plan."

"Is there a term for this specific treatment?"

"Face sitting—it's common practice where I'm from," she giggled.

Becky smiled then squatted back down and continued to smother. After about 5 minutes of riding his face, Avery took her thighs in his hands and lifted.

"What's your favorite number?" he asked.

"69!"

He folded her over so that her head dropped over his crotch.

She proceeded to peel back his sweatpants. His cock bounced upright like a buoy.

"Doesn't seem like you're against this," she said cocking his cock back and releasing, making it catapult back up."

"Next time I'm gonna bust three nuts before I come in."

"You wouldn't dare," she gasped, gripping and squeezing his cock threateningly.

"Bad terapeuta," Avery said as he slapped her asscheek.

"Yes. Tell me what to do Papi," she said with her hand still clasped around his cock.

"Listen," Avery remarked with an air of seriousness now in his voice.

"Tell me what to do with my mouth," she said ignoring his remark.

"Swallow my issues."

She began to suck fervently. After a couple of minutes, Avery gripped her waist with both hands and threw her lower half off the sofa. She landed in the gap between the wall and the sofa.

"Maybe you're the one who really needs help!" he said, standing fully erect on the other side of her. His turbulence frightened her.

Avery stretched his arm out and gripped her hair, pulling a handful of ruffled strands downward until her head was level with his waist.

She pant quietly and rolled her eyes upward to meet his threatening gaze. "Give it to me," she boldly asserted, opening her mouth wide.

Avery drove his cock down her throat making it disappear completely. Pinning her lips to his public area, he held his hand behind her head for a long thirty seconds. Once he let up and removed it, she choked hysterically. Thick strings of saliva hung from her lips like melting icicles.

Avery stretched out on the sofa again, folding his arms behind his head. Becky joined him, belly down, her head raised above his cock.

He had so much to tell her. debilitating thoughts that lingered, getting more severe with each passing day. He came to her for consolation, that's what her degree was in, but as the appointments grew more personal and Avery began introducing his vicious, fiendish, and fiery past relationships, Becky became intrigued. He was the embodiment of all she yearned for.

Within a few months of him becoming a patient, introspection shifted into extrospection; instead of digging through his mind, she began to dig through his pants.

"Becky, I really need to tell you what's been going through my mind."

She spit and thoroughly rubbed her saliva on his pole making it gleam like tan leather in the dim light.

"Tell me baby—that's what I'm here for."

"That's kind of hard while I'm—oh fuckkk"

She swirled her tongue around the neck of his glans.

"Hard?" she giggled, finishing his sentence.

"I don't think we should keep doing this. Well, we could still do this but I'm going to try to get help somewhere else."

Avery pushed her off and stood up, his cock pulsing at the same magnitude of a beating heart.

She began to jerk it vigorously.

"Baby, you know we can't do this anywhere else but here. I've got my husband at home and you're still living with mom and dad."

"Don't remind me."

She continued to jerk, increasing the strokes per second.

"Oh fuckkk," Avery dropped his head back and sighed. "I'm about to nut."

"Give it to me," she commanded.

Globs of thick, healthy seaman began to accumulate on her face. As the stream had ceased, just before his cock would retreat into limpness, she took him in her mouth again. At that instant Avery caved his chest in and stumbled backwards. His body crashed into her desk lamp, which was forced off the edge, shattering on the floor.

Avery laid across her desk, panting, staring up at the ceiling no longer coloured yellow by light, but dark now, his body enveloped by a pleasant numbness.

In the darkness he thought, failing to recall the exact 'issues' he wanted to bring to light during their session.

An alarm rang.

"See you next Wednesday," she said.

"See you then."