relaxed and available, made my cock throb. My eyes meandered down to her linen pants, and I found myself wondering if she was wet, the erotic thought of my patient torturing my patience.
I took a deep breath and moved my fingers down off her breasts toward her stomach and I felt her hips rock, ever so slightly.
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
I fanned out to her hips, carefully avoiding her sex. I had to. I just didn’t trust myself right now.
As I trailed my fingers down her thighs, I felt them clench.
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
I abandoned her legs and moved her arms together in front of her. Her sleeves were short and I noticed a large scar on the underside of her left arm. It was silvery and faded, but quite a gash, nonetheless. I ran my finger along the edge of the mark and she tensed.
“Bad?” I asked.
Her eyes tightened and she shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”
“What’s the scar from?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I caressed the insides of her arms, sliding my thumbs down to her wrists. It really was a rather large scar, and it looked old, which made me curious.
A small smile broke on her lips. “Long story. Let’s just say curling irons and I don’t get along.”
I chuckled. “Okay. Good. Go ahead and open your eyes.”
She slowly peeled one eye open, and then the other. “Already?” she asked groggily, slowly sitting up and buttoning her shirt. I watched with sadness as those spectacular breasts were once again hidden from view. “Well, what’s the verdict? Can you cure me?”
I smiled inwardly at her forthrightness. She sure was one determined woman, that much was evident. Seems that getting her to slow down was going to be the hard part.
“Natalie,” I started gently, “It’s not about curing you. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She looked at me quizzically.
“Medically, you are fine. You don’t have any glaring issues with physical contact. What we are going to focus on is the full picture of intimacy. First, it’s about building trust, because that’s the first step toward intimacy. That’s what today was about. We need to trust each other.”
She squinted at me. Was she thinking about the library? Our conversation in the bathroom? I tried to play it off.
“Don’t worry, it went really well today, so I think we can move on to the mechanics of sex sooner rather than later.” She looked at me, her brows pinched together. “I know we talked before about how this is going to work.” She nodded. “But I want you to think about our time together as a class. Each day, we’ll do some work, but I don’t want you to leave the experience here. I want you to take it home with you, think about what we do. Masturbate. Get to know your body outside of my office.”
Oh, there she goes again, she’s blushing. She’s so cute when she blushes.
“What we do together will just be lessons. And practice is what makes perfect, right?”
I caught a small glint in her eye, and it told me that what I’d said resonated with her.
“Right. Got it.” She nodded as her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me.
“Okay. Good. That’s enough for today then. We have another meeting scheduled for Friday,” I said, standing up. She followed suit and I walked us both to the door.
“Thanks, err, uh, Ryan? Do I call you Ryan? Or Mr. Andrews? You never did answer me.” She asked, slipping her purse onto her shoulder. I noticed one of her middle buttons was still undone and her breasts were testing the limit of the thin fabric.
“Button.”
“Button?” she asked, bewildered.
“Button,” I said, pointing at her shirt.
“Oh,” she gasped, and shifted her purse so she could use both hands to button her blouse. I shifted too, trying to calm what was now a semi in my pants. “Thank you.”
“Of course. And yes, please call me Ryan,” I said opening the door to the street.
She blushed for the thousandth time that afternoon. It was so cute.
I took a deep breath and moved my fingers down off her breasts toward her stomach and I felt her hips rock, ever so slightly.
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
I fanned out to her hips, carefully avoiding her sex. I had to. I just didn’t trust myself right now.
As I trailed my fingers down her thighs, I felt them clench.
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
I abandoned her legs and moved her arms together in front of her. Her sleeves were short and I noticed a large scar on the underside of her left arm. It was silvery and faded, but quite a gash, nonetheless. I ran my finger along the edge of the mark and she tensed.
“Bad?” I asked.
Her eyes tightened and she shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”
“What’s the scar from?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I caressed the insides of her arms, sliding my thumbs down to her wrists. It really was a rather large scar, and it looked old, which made me curious.
A small smile broke on her lips. “Long story. Let’s just say curling irons and I don’t get along.”
I chuckled. “Okay. Good. Go ahead and open your eyes.”
She slowly peeled one eye open, and then the other. “Already?” she asked groggily, slowly sitting up and buttoning her shirt. I watched with sadness as those spectacular breasts were once again hidden from view. “Well, what’s the verdict? Can you cure me?”
I smiled inwardly at her forthrightness. She sure was one determined woman, that much was evident. Seems that getting her to slow down was going to be the hard part.
“Natalie,” I started gently, “It’s not about curing you. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She looked at me quizzically.
“Medically, you are fine. You don’t have any glaring issues with physical contact. What we are going to focus on is the full picture of intimacy. First, it’s about building trust, because that’s the first step toward intimacy. That’s what today was about. We need to trust each other.”
She squinted at me. Was she thinking about the library? Our conversation in the bathroom? I tried to play it off.
“Don’t worry, it went really well today, so I think we can move on to the mechanics of sex sooner rather than later.” She looked at me, her brows pinched together. “I know we talked before about how this is going to work.” She nodded. “But I want you to think about our time together as a class. Each day, we’ll do some work, but I don’t want you to leave the experience here. I want you to take it home with you, think about what we do. Masturbate. Get to know your body outside of my office.”
Oh, there she goes again, she’s blushing. She’s so cute when she blushes.
“What we do together will just be lessons. And practice is what makes perfect, right?”
I caught a small glint in her eye, and it told me that what I’d said resonated with her.
“Right. Got it.” She nodded as her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me.
“Okay. Good. That’s enough for today then. We have another meeting scheduled for Friday,” I said, standing up. She followed suit and I walked us both to the door.
“Thanks, err, uh, Ryan? Do I call you Ryan? Or Mr. Andrews? You never did answer me.” She asked, slipping her purse onto her shoulder. I noticed one of her middle buttons was still undone and her breasts were testing the limit of the thin fabric.
“Button.”
“Button?” she asked, bewildered.
“Button,” I said, pointing at her shirt.
“Oh,” she gasped, and shifted her purse so she could use both hands to button her blouse. I shifted too, trying to calm what was now a semi in my pants. “Thank you.”
“Of course. And yes, please call me Ryan,” I said opening the door to the street.
She blushed for the thousandth time that afternoon. It was so cute.
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