I'm a board-certified Clinical Psychologist. And I desperately want to fuck one of my clients. More than I've ever wanted to fuck anyone in my life.
I'm 34 years old, 5'4" and about 160lbs. I'd describe myself as cute, soft, a bit quirky, and a little introverted, with long mousey brown hair, and C-cup breasts. I'm also very happily married, and have been for 6 years.
Tom (22M) is a client of mine. I met him 3 years ago when he came to see me at 19, and he is a perfect specimen of humanity. He's 6'2", from Montana originally. Muscular and toned, jaw square and broad shoulders. He speaks in a measured way, his voice deep, and is comfortable with silence.
For the past three years, I was seeing him almost every fortnight, and as I got to know him on a deeper and deeper level, my attraction grew. I fonud myself looking forwards to the days I knew I was going to see him, and going to extra efforts to make myself look nice. I'm not sure if my husband noticed a pattern, but I suspect he did. I don't think I'd ever wanted someone to be inside me with every fiber of my being like I did him.
His increasing vulnerability during our sessions with me just made him hotter and me want him more.
A few months ago, I found myself fantasizing about him whilst I was making love to my husband. That's something I've never done before. A deep, enveloping fantasy where I imagine him picking me up with his strong arms and throwing me over my desk, tearing my panties off, and fucking me hard from behind with his massive young cock. I came so hard on my husband's cock fantasizing about him that I think I squirted a little, something that's never happened before (my poor husband was so proud of himself, bless him). I found myself entertaining the fantasy more and more when we fucked.
This just drove the attraction deeper. I started leaving the sessions after Tom's free, so I could sit on the couch he'd just sat rub one out. I've started keeping a small bullet vibrator in my bag just for this purpose - my husband doesn't know I have it, let alone why I have it.
A few months ago, things escalated: We were having a very emotionally heavy session, with Tom pouring his heart out about some of the schemas we've been exploring. Sitting behind my desk, I absentmindedly started stroking my pussy gently through the soft cloth of my linen skirt and panties. I pulled my panties to one side, and gently slid two fingers in, making it look like I was rearranging myself on the seat. I spent the entire rest of the session, sliding my fingers gently in and out, secretly hoping he'll pick up on the signals I was putting down and take matters into his own hands. The whole sessions I was muttering single word responses to the important things he had to say.
I did not provide good therapy that day.
As he left, he must surely have been able to smell the sex emenating from my every pore. After he left and the door was safely locked, I pulled my soaking panties off, laid back on the sofa, spread my legs, and proceeded to have the most intense orgasm of my life, squirting all over the throw rug I keep on there.
It would devastate my husband if he knew any of this, and I know nothing more could ever come it. Sadly, it's as close as I can ever get to fulfilling this fanstasy. But a part of me desperately wants to fuck his brains out like never before, and go home full of his cum, and risk everything in my life that I've built.
And I know sex with my husband will never be the same again
