The Psychologist


“Good afternoon, please ma’am, sit down. Take it easy. Put your feet on the sofa and tell me what’s wrong. ”

The psychologist pulls a leather armchair closer and puts a notepad on his lap. With his pen poised, he looks at me kindly.

I melt away under the approving look in his eyes. Confused and rubicund I start to stutter. Oh dear, how can I talk myself out of here now. I really do not want to tell him what is bothering me. However, my GP thought it was best I would bring a visit to a psychologist to organize my thoughts. Since I couldn’t blame him, I plucked up courage and here I am. On the sofa with the psychologist. If it had been an old unattractive guy I could have managed to squeeze me through, but this psychologist is a piece of art. The girls among us probably know what I mean. Just a hunk, the kind where you might want to bite a piece of. Where you, with great pleasure, might want to put your hands on his buttocks and have a nice squeeze. Having fun, hmmm.

And so I have a major problem. Because how can you tell such a good looking piece that you get spontaneously a soaking wet cunt when seeing this kind of fine specimen. So much so that it would be better to wear panty liners to prevent the visibility of snails tracks. I close my eyes and try to avoid a wet spot on the sofa.

I try to banish all thoughts of him and think of crazy, ugly and scary things. I look around and see a prickly cactus on his desk. It is an ugly thing, and the spines should not induce erotic thoughts, but if I take a good look at the form of the cactus, I can suddenly vividly imagine how that thing goes up and down inside me. Ohhh I feel my juices all flow. Oh no, I shake my head to banish those thoughts and focus on something else.

Behind the desk on the wall are frames with the usual qualifications, but also one in which the psychologist proudly stands with a huge carp in his hands. I hate fish, but when I see the careless way the rod leans against him, I realize that you can make a delicious whip with a swishing tip. Ohhh my juices now flow much faster and I squeeze my legs tight together. Come on girl, think of something else. I swallow with difficulty and try to think about something else.

I look at the psychologist and see a hideous tie loosely knotted around his neck and suddenly imagine how it is draped around my eyes and knotted behind my head so I can’t see. I realize that it might not be such a bad idea because everywhere I look, I see something that makes me horny. I slowly start panting and really do my best to find somewhere else to think about. Suddenly I hear background music: a piece by Bach and spontaneously my clit starts pulsate to the beat. Neehee, I close my eyes and try to make my thoughts empty.

I turn my head and see the horrible brown shoes with shoelaces of the psychologist. In my mind I see those shoelaces grow until they become long ropes and that I love being tied up in a seductive position. Oh, what did I do today. I can think about nothing else. I get startled when I feel a hand on my arm.

“Little Miss, are you okay? Your time is up. Shall we make a new appointment for next week? Same time, same place? ”

I give him a radiant smile and I am glad I got through this session unscathed.

Of course good looking hunk, I think, of course I come back next week.

I’m struck

I notice that something is not quite right as my normal
heart rate increases from 68 to 110 beats per minute. I
start to sweat a little. I lie on my back with my knees on
either side of my head and my butt in the air. The fireman
is trying to push a large fire hose in my bowels. When he
succeeds he puts me up on my feet and stands behind me. He
firmly grabs my breasts and when he squeezes, my mouth
automatically goes wide open. There comes a big jet of
water out. The harder he squeezes, the more powerful the
beam. If he squeezes my left breast, my head goes to the
left and when he squeezes my right breast, my head is
turning to the right. The fireman has not yet realized that
the harder he squeezes the higher the fire flares up. My
heart is now in the frantic pace of 180 beats per minute.
Then my subconscious comes suddenly to life and I realize
the water is freezing. An icy cry escapes my lips and I cry
Bathed in sweat I wake up. I lie stretched out in my bed,
my love is on his side and rubs gently over my naked belly.
“Nightmare darling?” He asks friendly.
“Ahhhhhhh.” More words don’t come past my vocal cords, and
a moment later when the shivers come down my spine, I know
I’m struck by the first wave of the flue.