She was less nervous this time as she stood on the street and pressed the buzzer to the apartment. She looked around at the pedestrians going by and wondered what they might think if they knew why a young woman in her early twenties was going up to the fifth floor of that building. Surprised? Shocked? Disgusted? She hadn’t told a soul about the treatment she was undergoing. It had been a surprise to her that such therapy even existed. But her psychotherapist had recommended it as the very best option for her sexual addiction and she decided she’d try anything if it could help return her beahvior to what most considered “normal”.
The young female receptionist opened the door with a broad smile and asked her to take a seat in the waiting room. It was nice there was a female her own age that worked as his assistant. Somehow it made it all feel normal and everyday. Like she wasn’t some pervert with an overactive sex-drive, constantly seeking out erotic thrills. Although her shrink prefered to describe it more in Freudian terms. Her id and its need for physical sexual satisfaction, was in control, he said, and neither the stabilizing forces of her ego or super-ego were able to balance out those basic, primitive needs.
Her shrink was also quite certain that she had deep-seated issues with older men that lay behind her increasingly troubling behavior. It had all started innocently enough with tumblr age-gap porn blogs but it soon escalated to the point that she cut off regular social contacts so she could bring herself off to Internet porn. Nothing seemed more erotic or visceral than the sight of a sixty something year old man deep inside the vagina of a girl in her early twenties or reading a story about it. But tumblr porn turned out to be a gateway drug. It was when she started approaching old men in public places and offering them a quick free blowjob that she knew she needed help. Yes, she loved to hear them grunt with pleasure as they looked down at her bobbing head but she also knew things had got out of control. She needed to seek professional help before her health and possibly her life were put in danger.
It took some hours of laying on the couch in his office being psychoanalyzed before her therapist started to probe her relationships with her father and grandfather. He must have gone through a lot of ink as he took notes on that subject. To put it mildly, it was complicated. Then, when he’d heard enough, he proposed a solution she had never dreamed could have existed. He knew of a private therapist, a man in his sixties who had long experience of dealing with such non-standard sexual feelings in women like herself. In a safe, controlled environment she would be able to experience intimacy with a much older man so she could fully act out the sexual experiences that her libido was driving her to seek. She herself could decide the level of intimacy and the length of the sessions but several might to needed to fully explore her innermost issues. The greater surprise was that her private health insurance would cover the costs. It took a moment’s thought before she said ‘yes’ to this idea, although she really wanted to scream out ‘sign me up!’
The receptionist came back to the waiting room and asked if she’d like some wine or maybe some medicinal marijuana to relax her before the session. She opted for the wine and thought about the previous sessions as she sipped some cabernet sauvignon. It was her third visit to the therapist and one she was the most nervous about.
On the first visit they had just talked, without hardly any touching except for a long hug before she left. She remembered how warm and cuddly his body felt in that long hug.
On the second visit he had sat next to her on a sofa and she got accustomed to him holding her hand, putting his arm around her and softly kissing her cheek. He only ever went as far as her comfort level allowed. So far they had been fully clothed but that didn’t diminish the intensity of the experience. By the time the sessions were over, her panties were soaked.
She also had a questionnaire to fill out asking about the level of intimacy she would like. She had done this on the previous visits and had been told it was an essential tool for the therapist to understand her frame of mind before the session. Under the category “Clothing”, she ticked the box “Naked”. It was about time she felt his hands on her whole body. Under the category “Intimacy Level” she ticked the box “Full Penetration without Condom”. She’d had enough of holding hands and kissing. It was time to get what she really craved. This freudian Id thing with its venal needs needed to be silenced. Under “Control Parameter” she ticked the box “Slightly rough”. Being used as an old man’s fucktoy might also help give her Id what it needed. Under “Ejaculate Location” she ticked “Anywhere” and handed back the sheet of paper.
The receptionist took the questionnaire from her and disappeared through a door at the side A few minutes later the therapist himself emerged from the same door with the paper in hand. As on the previous visits, he wore a smart suit with shirt and tie, and she found it easy to imagine he was a sixty-four year old tax consultant rather than a sex therapist. “It’s so nice to see you again and you’re looking so well!” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake it although he were about to advise her on choosing accelerated depreciation. She blushed as she stood, wine glass still in hand, aware that pussy was tingling from filling out the questionnaire. “Would you like to come through, and we’ll get started.” He turned to his receptionist as he went through the door. “No more calls today. This consultation will be an extended one”. The word ‘extended’ sounded ominous in her ears.
His office was much like any mental health professional’s office. It had a pleasant warm atmosphere with colorful paintings on the walls and two comfortable chairs where patient and therapist could sit facing each other. He sat in one with the questionnaire still in one hand and a notebook and pen in the other. She put down her bag, took off her jacket and sat in the other. Behind his head she could see the doorway to the other room that led from the office and behind the half open door under half dimmed lights, she could see a freshly made bed whose sight made her pussy even wetter.
“So,” he began, looking at the questionnaire and scribbling something in his notebook. “How have you been since the last session? Still masturbating a lot?” Inside the safe confines of his office, there was no point in subterfuge. She was here for help. Anything but total honesty was ridiculous. She said that she was masturbating to orgasm about three times a day. Usually at least twice in the evening and if she could find the opportunity, once at work in the restroom. “And still to age-gap porn?” She said that, yes, mostly tumblr porn, although sometimes she went to the video sites and searched using the words “Old Man” to find videos that weren’t on tumblr. “But you haven’t tried approaching any more strangers to act out your fantasies?” She answered in the negative. She said she was starting to see the line between fantasy and reality. “That’s excellent! I think we’re making progress, don’t you? Shall we go into the therapy room?”
They got up together and she followed him into the bedroom she’d seen earlier. She could smell the beautiful musky aftershave he was wearing as she followed him and she could also feel how wet her pussy was and how her breasts tingled. She knew she was going to get well and truly fucked for the next hour or so by an understanding old man and in any way she wanted. Hopefully she wouldn’t be cured any time soon.