Laying in bed one night next to my loving girlfriend, an idea forms in my mind: I've always wanted to see a sex therapist. It stems from a desire to fuck the therapist I had in college. She dressed professionally but provocatively, with her shapely thighs on display most sessions.

As I said, I have a loving girlfriend who I'm more than satisfied with, and she lets me do as I please. She would love it if I could fulfil my fantasies in any way possible, as long as I return to her at the end of the day and tell her all about it.

So, I find myself browsing for hot sex therapists to schedule an appointment with. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but profiles for sex therapists do include pictures. I don't really have a good excuse for setting up my first appointment, so I decide to claim I have trouble with erectile dysfunction. Nowhere in my wildest imagination do I expect to actually fuck my sex therapist. I know that's off-limits. But, I think to myself, I do want to get better at jerking off. No one ever teaches you any new skills there. You can learn from sexual partners, but no one shows you how to pleasure yourself most effectively. I have to believe it's possible to achieve more satisfying orgasms, especially using my own hands. I see guys in porn cumming for what seems like an eternity. If they can do that, why can't I? Maybe a sex therapist can teach me...

I still can't imagine a professional would see me, just given that request, so I resolve to stick with my ED claim. I hope to leverage that into at least an instructional relationship of sorts. If I can't realize my dream of fucking a therapist, I would love to jerk off in front of one. I figure if I claim I can't get it up, maybe that's something a sex therapist will help with. Maybe she would end up teaching me exactly what I want to know.

So, I find you. I find the goddess of a sex therapist that I want to show my cock to. I quickly book an appointment through the website I found you on, thinking to myself that that was easier that I thought it would be. I do find a section where I have to fill out what I want to work on.

Hesitating for a moment, I type:

'I have long suffered from erectile dysfunction and I don't know what to do. My hope is that seeing a sex therapist might offer some relief.'

Half asleep as I lay my laptop down on my nightstand, I mostly forget what I have done. I wake in the morning to a that telltale flashing alert on my phone. I've got a new email. It's not until a couple hours later, after I've eaten and settled into my desk at work, that I get around to checking my email. Along with an incredibly attractive and revealing picture, I find the following note from you:

'Thank you for reaching out. This is a common problem, and nothing to be ashamed of. I'm glad you felt comfortable seeking help. This is certainly something we can explore. I have plenty of experience helping both men and women with sexual dysfunction, and I look forward to assisting you in any way possible.'

It's that last sentence that sets my mind ablaze with anticipation and a fleeting hope that maybe my fantasies will one day be realized. I can't wait for next Thursday evening when I get to meet you...

________________________________________________

Looking for a detailed exchange with a lot of dancing around sexual contact. I want to play things out from the start and eventually have things progress to you instructing me on how to masturbate while you sit there watching and getting more and more turned on. Eventually, displaying mock frustration at my "lack of following direction," you decide to step in an begin real sexual contact.

Even though these are characters, I like the idea of using the words "you" and "me" instead of writing in the third person. Makes it seem more like we're invested in the situation and placing ourselves in the characters' shoes.

Shoot me a message in character or out. We can jump in or discuss and set up a scene first. Either way works for me.