tagIncest/TabooCarla Rodgers, Sex Therapist

Carla Rodgers, Sex Therapist


This is a Valentine's Day Story. I hope you will vote. Your feedback is more than welcome.

This is an incest story so the usual caution for those readers who don't like them.


It was toward the end of my 3rd hour with Ms. Carla Rodgers, my sex therapist. The first two were get-acquainted sessions, with a lot of questions about school, about me and a little bit about my history, and whether I was generally happy or not, about home life. Things like that. That was the first hour. The second hour she asked me about my sex life, girlfriends, sex habits and my general attitude about sex. All very general questions. She knew why I was there but said she wanted to find out if I was a good candidate for the type of therapy she practiced. She didn't want to waste my time or hers or my mom's money if she didn't think she could help.

I should explain. I have been fucking my mother for the last several weeks but stopped recently and my mom doesn't understand why. It's driving us both crazy. I told her I still wanted to but I felt like I shouldn't. And when I tried I wasn't able to get it up.

"Alan, what the hell happened? Did I do something?"

"No, no, it isn't you. I don't know, mom."

So she decided to send me to a sex therapist. She is a lawyer and had heard about Carla from other lawyers who use these therapists for their practices, referring clients to them, and they get feedback. She said this kind of therapist was a lot better than the traditional kind that believes in the usual deep-type psychological approach. Mom said she read recently that a lot of conventional psychologists are dropping talk therapy altogether in favor of prescribing drugs. She said it reminded her of an old joke that lobotomies were really good for psychologists who didn't like to talk to people. Mom has a quirky sense of humor. I'm in college, my second year, and I also work part time in mom's law office doing legal research for her. Prep work for my own career as I plan to study law, too.

"I think it's time we got much more explicit with each other, Alan," Carla said. Mom had explained the situation to her and I had given her my version so she knew about the "problem," and her response was that this was normal, just another sexual situation to be solved. She didn't make any judgements or seem to be shocked at all.

"It's time for some real therapy, the kind I specialize in, sex therapy, but we will save that for next time. For the next couple of days I want you to be especially nice to your mom. Don't feel pressured to make advances but I want you to treat her really well. Take a step back and just look at her. As if you had never seen her before. See how that works, to see her as someone you don't know as well as you think you do. Talk to her and listen to what she says. More than you usually do. Get used to her again as a person and not the woman you have been having sex with. And do you know what holiday it is getting close to? I mean, this is getting close to an ideal occasion to get you two back on track.

"What day is that?"

She looked at me. "Valentine's Day, of course. It's already the 7th and it's coming up on the 14th.

"It's not a holiday."

"OK. It's an occasion, not a holiday, but it still ranks right up there with the big holidays, at least in terms of money spent. It's the best excuse for you to get romantic with her and get that cock back in action and where it belongs. We're under some time pressure. We have to get this resolved. "


"In her pussy, Alan, where do you think? We don't have much time. I mean, this is a day you cannot afford to overlook. She will see it as a sign. Good if you do something, bad if you don't. So you can't afford not to do something."

"OK. But do you think you can cure me by then?"

"Well...cure...such a loaded word. But you don't have a disease. Just a temporary condition. A blockage of some kind. A blockage of desire, but it's there, just backed up. I mean, have you ever heard of Chakras?"


"Well, neither have I much. I think it has to do with regions of the body that control different types of energy. Something like that. Connected with eastern thought, I think. You're blocked up in the basal or root chakra that has to do with sexual function. A quick jolt should get you back to normal. Something I can provide. So we'll see, Alan, but your problem seems like something I think I can get you over in short intense sessions. This is just a glitch, a sticking point. You're like a boat that went off course and got stuck on a sandbar, and when we get you off that sandbar you two should be fine, but we have to hurry. We'll see how it goes." She closed her notebook and stood up. "Do you think this has been helpful, the preliminaries we've gone through so far?"


"Good, then I'll see you this Friday," she said as she walked me to the door. "Next time, Alan, We're going to re-float your boat."

I went home and started dinner. Mom said she would be home at seven and it was already a little past five.

She got home a little before seven. "What a day!" she said as she came in the door. "So good to be home, Alan." She put her arms around me and kissed me. "I need to change and take a shower. I'll be right down."

She went upstairs and I got busy with the spaghetti, salad and wine. Mom came downstairs in a few minutes in her pajamas, robe and slippers and we sat at the table for our meal. She told me about a particularly bitter divorce she is working on. She is representing the husband but has more sympathy for the wife and finds herself having to fight someone who stands to get only half of what mom thinks she is entitled to. She thinks the husband is a first-class bastard but he's rich and she will get a handsome fee for saving as much of his assets for him as she can.

After dinner we did the dishes together then sat down to watch some TV. I had my arm around her and she was snuggled against my side. After a couple of hours watching and a glass of wine or two for both of us, she asked for a foot massage which I was happy to provide.

"How's the therapy going, darling?"

"OK, so far." I was working the bottoms of her feet, alternating between them, and then started working up to her calves.

"She's pretty, isn't she. Can't be over her mid-30's I would guess and she already has a terrific reputation. Do you like her?"

Just the contact with mom got me upset because I thought I felt something and started to get hard but then just as suddenly it went back down. I couldn't respond. I didn't understand it.

"Yes, she's fine, But, like right now, you know, when I should be wanting it, when you look so good, and nothing is happening."

"It's OK, honey, give it time. No rush."

"Yeah, but I know I want to. I can't figure it out."

"That's why I hired Carla, honey. Cooperate with her. She will help you work it out. And if you think I can help just please let me know how. I'm here for you."

"Thanks," I said. "It's just frustrating for me. Like there has been some big disconnect that happened just like that and I can't figure it out."

"I know, honey. This is so new and so different. It would be odd if you didn't have to make some adjustments. I can think of a few to try on you but maybe it would be better to leave it up to a professional. Just trust her, Alan, and do what she says."

"OK. I will."

Shortly after that we shut everything off and went up to our bedrooms. By my door I turned to kiss her and she put her arms around my neck and pressed herself to me. I was feeling her breasts and rubbing her bottom but still nothing. It was so discouraging for me, as if I had lost contact with myself.

"Sorry, mom."

"It's OK, honey. Get some sleep. And if something clears up during the night, well, you know where to find me." She kissed me again. "Good night, baby."

"Goodnight, mom" and I went into my room, got undressed and under the covers and fell asleep almost immediately.

In a couple of days I was back in Carla's office. Mom was right about Carla being pretty. Black hair. Slim, athletic body. Nice ass. Pretty face. Nice mouth. Big tits. Everything firm and toned. A quick and intense manner about her. She seemed so sure of herself, like she was on a mission.

"Alan," Carla said, sitting down and getting comfortable in her soft sofa chair. The office had a chair like that for her and one for me. We were sitting across from each other, a coffee table holding a pitcher of water, a couple of glasses and a box of Kleenex, in between. There were windows on one side wall and a cloth-upholstered couch with a hinged end quarter that could be raised, like a hospital bed, on the other. She was wearing a short lime-green skirt and matching blouse. She crossed her legs, her hose making a nice swishing sound as she did. I could see about three quarters of the way up her thigh. Her blouse relaxed around her bra, outlining her tits nicely. She settled back, smiling at me. "I need you to tell me about your first time with her."

So I settled back and started talking.

"The first time happened one night when we both had had some wine. It was my 19th birthday. On December 19th." I looked at Carla. "Whew! I just made it into Sagittarius. I'm glad I'm not some dull-ass Capricorn."

"Skip the astrology, Alan, and Elvis was a Capricorn," Carla said.

"Yeah, OK. Anyway, It's just the two of us at home as dad left with his younger secretary about six months ago and they didn't come back, except recently to pick up his stuff that mom had had boxed and waiting for him on the ground at the side of the garage, covered in a blue plastic kind of tarp. She left a couple of his best suits on top. They got soaked. Probably ruined."

Carla laughed at that.

"That had been a from-nowhere kind of disaster for her and she was devastated. I tried to be a good son and do things for her but she was very unhappy. It bothered me a lot."

Carla shifted in her chair and crossed her legs the other way, the pantyhose making that sound again. "Your compassion sounds genuine, Alan. Go on..."

"I can't figure my dad. Why would he leave her? Maybe it was something mysterious I'm too young to understand. Not enough experience. Do men get tired of a woman, any woman, after a period of time?

"A lot of them do, Alan."

"Does Brad Pitt still get hard at the thought of Angelina, or has fucking her turned into a chore, something he does out of duty, and they still have to put in the appearance of being in love for the movie magazines? Is he a little creeped out by the fans who think he must live in a sexual heaven just because of all the hype? And Angelina, with those collagen-stuffed lips that make it look like she can't feel anything with them, and her i-know-you're thinking-about-fucking-me look. That image stuff. I wonder if he thinks, after having seen her at her worst, or hung over, or in a bad mood, if they only knew?"

"I've wondered about that, too."

"I don't know, of course. Mom and dad seemed to get along fine and mom is a very good looking woman. I mean, very good looking."

"I know. I've met her. But tell me how she looks to you."

"She has a pretty face and a very good body with great tits." I glanced over at Carla. She had a small smile on her face. "Big, soft tits. And a tight pussy. And she loves to fuck. Loves it. Can't get enough. She's maybe 5'7". I'm not sure about weight but womanly curves, very womanly curves and no fat ass or anything like that. Mega-MILF material." Another glance at Carla. The same steady smile. I can't shock her, I realized. "And she likes men. No wonder she does so well as a lawyer. She's good in court. Good with juries. Doesn't dress like a slut but legal-sexy. Verging on sluttiness but just on the professional side of that so it impresses the men and allows them to look but not ogle like she was a stripper, and gives the women something to shoot for in the way of dress tips. She's smart too with a quick wit, and that's a little intimidating for guys who want to jump to conclusions about her. The kind of guys who think they are god's gift and that women are pushovers."

"Nothing more irritating than that to a lot of women, Alan."

"They watch how they act around her but they still like her because it is clear that she likes them. So long as they're not overbearing and don't come on with a lot of macho stuff she makes them feel good. Laughs at their jokes, even when they aren't especially funny. She makes sure not to embarrass them. There's something very considerate, even tender about that that I find very very attractive."

"I can see why you admire her."

I had my hand almost over my eyes, concentrating on the scene in my head. "So it's my birthday, and she bought some wine for the occasion but first she took us out to dinner. What a night!"

"You sound like you were excited about it."

"I was. I was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs when she was coming down from dressing. She wore a short black dress. It was cut low so I could see her cleavage, and a strand of pearls. She looked terrific.

"Sounds hot."

"It was. I was staring. She dropped her head a little but was looking at me with a shy smile, her legs not quite as together as they might have been normally, I imagined, and I thought I could see her sort of projecting her pussy out at me, but that might have been my imagination, as if she was presenting herself to me. Like a girlfriend might do. We had always been open and sort of flirty with each other from the time I was 16 or so. Dad was around so I never thought of her sexually other than just in an abstract way. Well, maybe not so abstract. You know, I would think of her when I was jacking myself. But I thought that was OK. Anyway, I knew she was hot and enjoyed staring at her but all I was doing was just getting used to looking at women. She was safe, I thought, being my mother, so looking didn't do any harm and she didn't seem to mind. "

"Sounds perfectly normal to me so far, Alan."

"As a matter of fact she seemed to welcome the attention and talked to me more and more as an adult. Commenting on my girlfriends, reserving the word "cute" for the ones with great figures. No coarse language. Just the gentle play of words and glances, body language. Sex play. It seemed important to her. So there I was, at the landing as she stepped down toward me, like a prom date, like she had dressed specially for me, to make herself attractive to me, like she was signaling, I hoped, a change, an evening that would be a ceremonial transformation in our relationship."

Carla recrossed her legs again. Same swish sound. "You're getting a bit abstract there, Alan. Please stick to the facts."

I glanced over. Same level look. No smile this time. "We had a very good dinner. We even danced. I couldn't believe I was holding her this close. She moved her body into me, relaxing and molding it against me and I could feel her breasts against my chest and her breath on my neck. I had my hand on her back, pulling her to me. I was amazed at how well we moved together, as if we had rehearsed. I couldn't help getting hard but decided to ignore it and even pressed it against her. She pressed back. "Mmm my fine young man," she said. "My handsome son."

"My beautiful mom," I said to her. "My hot, hot mom."

She pulled her head back, smiled at me, then kissed me on my cheek before bringing her lips back to my neck. She whispered to me, "Your body feels so good, Alan."

I said to her, "Mom, yours does to. I know you can feel that I'm hard but I can't help it. I hope you don't mind. But suppose someone sees."

"That was bold of you, Alan. Mentioning your erection to her. I like it."

I glanced over at Carla. The smile was back.

"Mom put her arm more tightly around my neck and moved even closer to me, pressing against my hard on. She said, `Suppose they do.' and we kept on dancing."

Carla said, "Let's stop right here for now, Alan. You can finish telling me about the rest of the evening later. For now I want to check some things out. Are you game?"

"Mom says to trust you so OK."

"She's right. Now stand up, Alan."

I stood up. Carla stepped toward me and began unbuttoning my shirt. "As you know, this is sex therapy, sooo, time to see you, Alan. I want to look at your body and check your responses."

I could feel my cock twitch but it didn't rise up the way I thought it would, the way it always does when I am around a woman who turns me on.

She squatted down. "Lift your foot, Alan." I did and she took off the shoe and sock and did the same for the other. She straightened up. "Now your pants." She unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly and pushed my pants and shorts down around my ankles. I stepped out of them. She took off my shirt and I helped take off my undershirt. I was standing naked in front of her.

"You have a nice body, Alan," she said. She glanced down. "Nice cock, too." I'm not real big hard. A little over 6 but it's thick and really only gets down to about half that when I'm soft so it looks pretty good all the time. It shows promise, I guess.

"I like circumcised men," she said. "Looks cleaner. More outgoing. Sort of has a face to it. Has a cute kind of turtleneck collar."

"Turn around." She put her hands on my shoulders and turned me so my back was to her. She took a step back, appraising me. "Nice back, straight and strong, well muscled, tapered, well muscled and shapely legs, and your tush, Alan," She patted my buttocks. "Very nice indeed."

"We're getting close to the end of this session, Alan, but we have a little more time. Turn around."

She was unbuttoning her blouse. "Last time you told me about your girlfriend. The one you have been seeing the most of. Cindy, I think you said. Tell me about her."

The blouse was off and she reached around for her bra clasp, unclipped it. She moved her shoulders a little and it fell to the floor. Her full breasts swayed a little as she reached around to the side of her skirt and unbuttoned and unzipped it.

"Yeah, Cindy."

"Have you fucked her?"

The skirt was off and she was bending over to push down her panties. She kicked them off. There she was, as naked as I was, except for the thigh-high hose. I was gazing at her nipples that jutted out hard, then down to her belly and down to her pussy, hidden behind a neatly trimmed black V patch.

"A couple of times but she says she would rather suck me off. She likes to do that."

"You go down on her?"

"Yeah, a couple of times."

"Did you like that?"

"Sure but it's not the same with her as it is with mom."

I couldn't believe I wasn't hard. I mean, I should be standing straight up. I also couldn't believe I wasn't embarrassed. The cards were on the table, my weakness exposed. I needed Carla's help.

"Come on, Alan, let's lie down." And she led me over to her padded couch. She raised the end leaf so it was at about a 30 degree angle and lay down, patting the space beside her.

I got on couch and stretched out, facing her.

"You are free to touch me, Alan, wherever you like. Of course I'm free to do the same with you as well." She reached out to my cock, fondling it, lifting my balls, lightly stroking the shaft.

"Tell me more about Cindy."

I stretched down into the couch some more and moved closer to her. I reached out for her shoulder and then touched her forehead and cheek and neck and shoulder and then her breast, cupping it, then down her side to her hip and then her pussy.

"Mmmm feels good Alan. You have a nice touch."

"About Cindy... I couldn't tell her, or explain anything. I couldn't even get it up for her. The last time she wanted to suck it and looked at me as if I was crazy when I said I didn't want her to do that anymore. I could just see her if I told her I was feeling bad about fucking my mother, and watching the blood drain from her face, as if I had pulled a plug."

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