Therapy Sessions

By Jezza Deep

Copyright ©2025

Lena draped her legs over Dr. Thomas's lap, just as she had the week before, though he'd told her she was too old to be held that way.

"You're nineteen, and I'm your therapist," he said in that soft, melodic voice of his. "This isn't the proper way for me to comfort you."

Yet he hadn't resisted, and when she moved to join him in the chair on this particular Thursday evening, he merely sighed. "I'm supposed to be providing you with guidance."

They were in his office, and the building was quiet around them. With only the lamp on his desk dimly illuminating, Lena felt hidden away and emboldened.

"You have counseled me," she said, her gaze drifting to the clock on the wall. "For forty-five minutes. Now it's time to comfort me again."

He let her settle on his lap and lean against him, her back pressed to his front. She liked the way he wrapped a strand of her long, red hair around his finger. Breathing in, she recognized the clean scent of aftershave that still clung to him this late in the day.

"If you were to tell anyone about this—" he began.

"I won't." She turned her head so she could look up at him. His hair was dark, neatly cut, and had only begun to have a salty look. His eyes were a light green, and his lips were the most gorgeous she'd ever seen on a man. Countless times, she'd fantasized about kissing them. "I would never hurt you," she went on.

When he appeared satisfied with her response, she turned around again. Her skirt was sinfully short, almost revealing her black lace panties. Did he ever imagine lifting it just an inch higher? Did he ache to slip his hand beneath it and caress her core?

Those illicit thoughts excited her. Her breath quickened, and she started moving on his lap. Her hips rolled in a circular motion until he rested a hand on her bare thigh in a futile attempt to stop her.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice strained.

"Just getting more comfortable." Her purposeful motions caused the skirt to ride up her thighs. He gasped, letting her know he had glimpsed her panties just as she had wanted.

He didn't struggle when she took his right hand and slowly, teasingly, guided it between her legs. They both moaned at that initial contact, deliciously forbidden. Still rocking against him, she could feel his erection coming to life through his pants.

"Have you ever done this before?" he whispered.

She didn't answer. Let him believe she was a virgin if he wanted.

She didn't need to guide his other hand under her red top. Biting her lip, she subdued another moan, her eyelids fluttering closed. Now, his fingers worked their way into her bra, pinching and fondling her erect nipple, his other hand snaking between her legs into her panties.

His breath came faster, sounding labored, as she kept working her body against him, and when he homed in, gliding his fingers across her clitoris, she swallowed a cry. She felt those beautiful lips on her hair while his fingers drew currents of hot arousal from her core.

Teasingly, he caressed her entrance. She thrust her hips forward, lewdly grinding her hot, wet sex against his hand, but when he eased two fingers into her, she let out a whine.

"Am I hurting you?" he murmured.

Lena swallowed hard. "No." It took effort to hide just how much she enjoyed those fingers thrusting in and out of her. "Don't stop."

"You're so tight." He squeezed her nipple, his grip almost painful.

She sensed him struggling, his need growing as intense as hers. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, but before he had a chance to deny her, she shifted in his lap, giving him room to lower his pants if he chose to do so.

A second ticked by. She froze, her body tense with anticipation. When the doctor hurried to unbuckle his belt, she hid behind her hair to conceal a smile.

It took a bit of jostling, even in the spacious chair, but she was soon positioned right above his erect cock. With her feet planted on the floor, she pulled the crotch of her panties to the side. The air in the office was soothingly cool as it wafted over her hot, sleek skin.

He made a throaty sound the moment she sank upon him; he whispered, "God forgive me."

Her back still to him, she couldn't see his face, but she heard the helpless moan that emerged from his throat. Drawing in a sharp breath, she trembled beneath his hands.

"Go slowly," he coaxed.

Forcing out another moan, she made sure her movements appeared deceptively hesitant.

Already, she wanted to ride him, but a good girl wouldn't be so eager. Despite her caution, she couldn't keep the instinctual rhythm from her hips. Their intimacy was quieter than she'd imagined possible, punctuated by pleasured sighs and half-suppressed moans. She let him pull up her top, lifting her breasts out of her bra. The sensation of him teasing her hard nipples caused her to move even faster.

"I'm too close!" he rasped, but continually punished her with his devious torment of her nipple and clit.

In desperation, she lifted her legs and braced her feet on the arms of the chair. For a moment, he slipped out of her, but she was quick to guide him back in, allowing him to easily thrust upward, and despite his warning that he was on edge, he took her hard and fast while his arm left the sweet torture of her nipple and circled her waist. As his other hand relentlessly crucified her clit.

Her orgasm made her shudder in his grasp, and his intense piercing only prolonged her rapture. "Yes!" she choked out between spasms.

"We have to stop!" He sounded almost panicked.

"No! Don't stop!" she begged. "I want you to cum inside me."

Losing all control, his thrusts grew more punishing. Once her climax ebbed, she was almost limp in his hands, forcing him to hold her even more firmly.

"Gonna come!" he grunted, as if she would see reason and order him to let her go.

Her awareness tunneled, narrowing to the single point where their bodies connected. His cock penetrated her wet, tender flesh at a fervid pace, delivering both exquisite pleasure and a twinge of pain.

When he surrendered to his release, his guttural cry fluctuated into a groan of submissive relief. She could feel his cock twitching within her. When she constricted her muscles around him, he swore under his breath. Did he think she was greedy to want every drop of his seed? It seemed her body was constantly revealing both her need and lust.

All too soon, it was over. She waited, fearing the repercussions of what they'd just done. Would she be punished for such wickedness? Or worse, would he never wish to see her again?

Wordlessly, he coaxed her upward until his cock slipped free of her. Once her panties again covered her, he gave the crotch of her undergarment a gentle rub, as if to soothe any lingering pain. It was a sweet, unexpected gesture that made her want him even more.

She lingered there in that awkward position between sitting and standing, giving him time to put away his cock and straighten himself. Pleasure coiled like a snake in her belly when he drew her to him again.

With his fingers under her chin, he turned her face toward him. Lowering his mouth to hers, he then fulfilled a simpler fantasy. Curtly, she opened her eyes to find his closed; he seemed lost in their first kiss, while she wanted to remember every vivid detail.

As she nestled up against him, he broke the kiss and said, "We've done wrong."

Quiet and still, she could feel her heartbeat between her thighs. Finally, she replied, "I'm sorry I tempted you."

"We're both to blame, Lena."

Taking his hand, she replied, "I should stop coming to see you."

"No." The word was vehement on his lips. In a gentler tone, he added, "I want us to continue meeting here each week. I won't allow my lust to control me next time."

She solemnly nodded, though she fought to hide another smile. Next week, she was certain, he would welcome her back onto his lap to give her comfort. And in taking it, she would allow him to again take her.

Lena sat on the train with her cheek pressed to the window, the scenery a blur of light and movement. She should have felt guilt. Shame. Something. Instead, satisfaction thrummed through her veins. She had won.

Her therapist, the man who had spent months prying into the trauma of her past, had finally cracked. And she'd made him do it. A shiver traced down her spine.

At home, her apartment was quiet, her mother working late as always. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her bed. Her fingers skimmed her lips. She could still feel his kiss. They’d done wrong, he had said. But she knew better.

They would do it again.

And next time, he wouldn’t resist at all.

About Jezza Deep:

Jezza Deep is a published poet and author whose work blends emotional depth with explorations of the human experience. Her writing has appeared in The International Library of Poetry, Last Girls Club, and Cosmic Daffodil, with forthcoming features in The Brussels Review and Ink’d Magazine. She holds degrees in both business and the arts and continues to expand her body of work through novels, short fiction, and collaborative projects.