A Different Kind of Therapy Ch. 10A Different Kind of Therapy Ch. 10


[My thanks to estragon for his editing of my tangled prose.

Postings will slow down now, I’m afraid. I caught up with what I had written before I started posting. And life has gotten busy. So, please be patient with me, dear readers. One more is almost ready, then, I don’t know how long it’ll be.

This is a little mellower than the previous chapters. I hope you still like it.


Session X: An Amazing Afternoon

Tuesday dawned as one of those days of late March that promised Spring. When the alarm went off, there was light peeking through the windows in a way we hadn’t seen in a while. The weather report said it would be warm, so I dug a lightweight dress out of my closet. I’d worn my only thong yesterday, and I thought I might just skip my panties today, but I settled on something skimpy and cotton. Last night I’d surfed over to Victoria’s Secret and ordered myself five new thongs to wear. Of course, they wouldn’t come for a couple of days.

I wasn’t the only one who was dressing for Spring. I had to send Alison back to pick something else to wear to school. She couldn’t go looking like that. She’d tried to go without a bra, for God’s sake. Of course, it only made me wish I could get away without one. Ah, to be that young again.

But, truthfully, I felt younger than I had in years. And I was wondering what the day would bring for me. It had certainly been one surprise after another for the last two weeks.

When I got to the college, I found myself noticing the students — the girls anyway — in a way I’d never really done before. The ladies of the campus were all dressed for this Spring-like day in short skirts or shorts and any number of them were bra-less. For the first time in my life, I found myself wondering if any had left their panties at home as well as their bras. I found myself thinking about kneeling in front of them like I’d knelt in front of Dr. Gupta or having them ride my face like Jennifer had done on Sunday.

It was hard to concentrate. Even the simple act of slipping into the bathroom to pee had, since my experience with Natalie Flanders, become erotic for me. I surprised myself by imagining watching another woman pee like she had watched me. Would I be as affected by it as she seemed to be?

My pussy was damp with excitement all morning long. I tried to throw myself into my work — trying to spec out a new server for the Library — but my mind kept wandering.

I leapt for my phone when I heard it ring just before noon. I signed into the Therapy App quickly and eagerly read the name: “Cheryl Rusk,” it informed me, but instead of the Rectory, it listed “St. Agnes’ Woods.” I told my co-workers I was out for lunch and got into my car and headed to where I’d been directed.

St. Agnes’ Woods were ten mostly undeveloped acres owned by the Parish on the edge of town. A dirt road led off the bumpy paved road into the trees and eventually came to a clearing far from most signs of civilization. In the clearing there was a building that used provide some income to the church as a retreat center. It wasn’t used much anymore, but I’d been to the site for a couple of church events over the years. When I emerged from the wooded road and into the clearing, there was one car parked in front of the two-story wooden structure. I pulled up next to it and got out of my car.

I started toward the door when I heard a call from behind me. “Pamela, over here,” Reverend Rusk’s voice carried across the clearing. I turned and saw her. She was standing on the other side of the dirt and mud parking area by the covered pavilion that was mostly used for church picnics.

I walked across the squishy lot toward her, wishing I’d worn some kind of shoes that didn’t have heels. But I wasn’t expecting to be out in the mud, had I? As I walked Cheryl’s eyes were on me, looking me over from head to toe. I returned the favor. She was wearing what I thought of as her normal attire: a dark-gray, knee-length wool skirt and a black blouse, with a white clerical collar at her neck. Unlike her normal dress, though, she had sneakers on her feet.

She smiled when I got over to her: we stood on the brown grass at the edge of the cement floor of the pavilion. “Pamela, listen to me,” she said immediately. “I want you to take off your clothes and put them on the table there.”

I looked at her for a moment, then undid my dress’s buttons that went from collar to waist and pulled it off over my head. I folded it neatly and put it on a reasonably clean spot of the table. I stepped out of my heels onto the cement floor, immediately feeling the cold through the almost non-existent protection of my pantyhose. I picked up my shoes and put them onto the table, then took off my slip, bra, hose and finally panties. I arranged these all on top of my dress, turning my bursa escort shoes over on top of the pile in case we got a gust of wind.

I turned around back to Cheryl feeling chilled. The warm Spring day wasn’t so warm when you were naked and outside. I don’t think I have to say anything about the state of my nipples.

There’s a huge power differential when you are naked and someone else is not. I felt the Reverend’s gaze slip over my exposed body. I was cataloging my faults as I followed her eyes. Saggy breasts, need to lose weight around my middle, untrimmed pubes, cellulite on my hips. She walked around behind me, continuing her inspection. A thought passed through my mind and I couldn’t contain a snort of laughter.

“Is something funny, Pamela?”


“No, what made you laugh?”

“I couldn’t help thinking: ‘Does this forest make my ass look big?'”

She laughed an easy laugh. “Why yes it does, I’m afraid, Pamela. Your ass is big and very spankable. Put your hands on the post there and lean against it.” I did as I was told and without further ado my bottom was treated to a series of slaps. Not too many, just enough to put me into the right state of mind and send warm tendrils of excitement from my ass to my brain and right back down between my thighs. Before I’d been damp there. Now I was definitely wet.

“Stand up now, Pam,” the Reverend said with kindness in her voice. “Walk with me.” She took a step then waited for me to move to her side. We began to walk around the clearing. “How are you feeling right now?” she asked.

“Right now?” I laughed. “Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and about to lose my balance.”

“Am I so scary, Pamela?”

“No, not you. I’m afraid someone will drive up and see me like this.”

“Like how?”

“Naked. Probably with a red butt. Exposed.”

“And you’re worried what they will think?”

“Of course,” I said. We were walking on the edge of the woods. I kept my gaze down to watch where my feet fell. I didn’t want to step on anything sharp. “Like I was worrying about what you thought when you inspected me.”

“Did you think I was judging you, Pamela?”

“Um. Yeah. Weren’t you?”

“In a way,” she said gently. “But not the way you think. I wasn’t looking for your faults, not like we all do in the mirror in the morning.”

“Then what were you seeing?”

“A beautiful woman.” I stopped and looked at her, incredulous. “A courageous one. Someone who’s come a long way in a short time.” She took my elbow and pulled me back to walking. “Tell me, how do you feel about your therapy so far?”

“It’s been like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Strange. I never would have thought I’d have done some of these things.”

“And are you happy with it?”

“I think so. I don’t know.”

“Do you know what a labyrinth is, Pam?”

“A maze, right?”

“Not quite. In a maze you have lots of choices and can easily get lost. A labyrinth is a winding path where you don’t know where you’re going, but you have to just walk and trust.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“It’s hard to, until you walk it. We have a labyrinth here.” She stopped and I looked up. In the short grass in this part of the clearing was a thick white line of chalk, sort of like the boundary or yard lines on a ball field. But this wasn’t straight. It wound around in a circle, twisting toward the center and then out again. It was hard to follow the pattern while you looked at it. It made me a little dizzy looking at it.

“It’s an ancient meditation technique,” Reverend Rusk continued. “You walk the path, letting your mind think whatever your mind thinks. Some people pray. Some people think. Some people just let their mind go blank and follow the path.”

“Am I going to walk the labyrinth?”

“Of course. Why else would I have brought you here and told you about it?”

“Are you going to walk it too?”

“No. I will wait for you on the other side.”

“How do I start?”

“Just take the first step.” I looked down at the chalk path and considered for a moment. I felt Cheryl move away from me, circling wide around the outside of the twisting line.

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the line, then began to walk.

Immediately I was struck with the idea of just how strange this was. I was naked, in the middle of a field, where literally anyone could drive in and see me. I felt the touch of the Spring sun down on me, which was nice. But I was all too aware of all of the faults and extra padding of my body. If someone saw, say, Giselle naked walking in the field, it would be beautiful. Me, I wasn’t Giselle.

I kept my eyes down on the white line as it curved gently then tightly turned back on itself, twisting its way more-or-less toward the bursa escort bayan center of the circle. I was vaguely aware, at first, of Cheryl standing opposite the entrance to the labyrinth, watching me. Then, I turned away. Around another curve, I saw her spreading a blanket or something on the ground.

But then the sinuous footpath absorbed all of my attention and Reverend Rusk disappeared from my consciousness. Then the woods faded from thought. Then the sun. Soon I was just a naked woman following a line, my mind peacefully at rest and blissfully oblivious.

After meandering my way around toward and away from the center, winding all the way around the circle, I eventually reached the center. The path from there was straight and led out of the labyrinth. Realizing that I was near the end, I looked up and straight ahead to where I’d last seen Cheryl.

I think I gasped when I saw her again. She was still in the same spot where I’d last noticed her, but she was no longer standing. Instead she was seated on a bamboo yoga mat, naked and bent into a lotus position, calmly breathing and watching me.

I was pretty amazed that I had zoned out enough that I hadn’t noticed her disrobing. How could I have missed that? But I didn’t really have much time to think about it. It was just a moment before I reached the far end of the white line.

“Sit,” Cheryl said, indicating a second bamboo mat between us.

I lowered myself to the mat, facing her. I crossed my legs and started to lift one foot onto my knee to mimic her position. I winced.

“Don’t try the lotus if you’re not used to it. Just sit like that.”

I was all too aware at how the position left my pussy open and exposed. And then I realized I was looking at Cheryl’s open and uncovered sex. I jerked my eyes up to her face.

“It’s okay. You can look at me,” she said gently.

My gaze travelled back down past her small breasts, only slightly drooping without a bra, past her belly marred with a caesarian scar, to her exposed sex. Unlike my hairy groin, hers was well groomed, partly shaved to leave only a salt-and-pepper “landing strip” above her opening. Her labia were parted like mine were, but hers were much more prominent for being shaved. Her clitoris was swollen and larger than any I’d ever seen, though admittedly I hadn’t seen all that many aroused clits.

“Did you enjoy the labyrinth? How do you feel?” Cheryl asked quietly.

“It’s very calming. That’s how I feel: calm.”

“And turned on? Your nipples are engorged. Your pussy is wet.”

“Yes,” I blushed. “Very turned on.”

“And can you see how turned on I am?” She could see my gaze was still between her thighs.

“Yes, I can.” My tongue, uncontrolled, licked my upper lip. I bit my lip to try to control myself.

“What would you like to do how you feel?”

“Can I…” I couldn’t believe I was about to say this, “Can I lick you?”

She laughed, pure joy. “A wonderful thought, Pamela, let’s talk about that, shall we?”

“Is talking about it part of my therapy?”

“Of course.” She reached up and started slowly moving her fingertips on her nipples. “Do this with me, Pam,” she ordered. I shivered as soon as I touched my own nipples. “Are you so much into licking pussy now, Pamela? You told me about Dr. Gupta. And you were dreaming about Odessa Adamms. Did you get back together with her?”


“No, so you have only licked Dr Gupta?”

“No,” I blushed. “Sunday. After church. I was with Jennifer Edelmann.”

“Do this,” she licked her right middle finger, leaving a slippery coating of saliva on it and then moved it back to her nipple, touching it to the tip and slowly moving it around. I mirrored her. “Tell me about Dr. Gupta, was it in her office? Were you kneeling for her?”

“Yes, in her office. After she spanked me, she took off her skirt and had me kneel in front of her chair and I….”

“Yes, she’s very fond of that position. She had me there once myself, but I prefer her in lying on her back in bed.” I stopped moving in a little shock. I wasn’t sure why I should be shocked, but I was. This was my priest. And the picture of her in my mind with Dr. Gupta was a bit much. “Just keep doing what I do, Pam,” Cheryl said, bringing me back to the here and now.

She let her left hand drop to the ground, but her right hand moved between her legs and her middle finger traced her labia.

“What did she taste like?” Cheryl asked.

“Do you have to talk about this?”

“Do you still want to lick me?”

“Damn it, yes,” I whimpered.

“Then we need to talk about this. What did she taste like?”

“Spice. Musk. Pepper and coffee and cream.”

“Mmmm, that sounds about right. What about Jennifer? What did she bursa sınırsız escort taste like?”

“Honey. Wild honey with musk.”

Cheryl pushed two fingers inside her sex and then drew them back out and up to her mouth. I followed her lead, tasting myself as she tasted herself. “What do you taste like, Pamela?”

“Tangy, like an orange, but not orangey. The flavor’s more like vanilla,” I giggled a little, “but with musk. I guess we’re all musky.”

“Not everyone, but most,” she said as she dipped her fingers again. “Mmm, yes, I’m musky too. It’s like rosemary, I guess, but a strong coffee taste. Too much coffee maybe?” I wanted to taste her myself. Cheryl levered her legs out of the lotus. “Come here, Pamela.”

I got up, slower than I wanted to, but I wasn’t as lithe as I used to be. I crawled the two feet between us as Cheryl shifted to her side. She put a hand behind my head and pulled me in for a kiss.

I kissed her eagerly, fervently, and hungrily. Our mouths were open from the first and our tongues slid around each other. She was hungry too.

She broke the kiss and bent to my breasts. The nipple from one breast disappeared into her mouth and she suckled for a moment. I closed my eyes and moaned in pleasure. I remembered that we were outside and the excitement of that doubled the feeling. My pussy was dripping.

Her right hand found its way between my legs and began to explore me. My left hand mimicked her, gliding around her smooth pussy lips, dipping slightly into her wetness. This was the first pussy I’ve felt with my fingers, besides my own, I thought, even though I’ve now licked two. It felt wonderful, a new territory to explore. Similar to my own, yet so different, not in the least because of the size of her clit. I was intrigued so much by that and was rewarded by her expressions of pleasure. As first those moans were muffled by my breasts as she sucked on one, then the other. But then her head tipped back and her moans were joined by whispers of “Yes, there,” or “Damn, that’s good.”

And she was making me squirm and moan too. “Fuck me, Cheryl, fuck me,” I said. “Finger me, oh God!”

We writhed and moaned together as we both built to climaxes. She came first, but I was so close behind that it was hard to tell. She just started shaking and making the sound of “oh, oh, oh” repeatedly. My fingers were on her clit and I struggled to hold them there as she thrashed. Her fingers were inside of me and she didn’t move them as my pussy convulsed through my come.

When we both past our crests and began to settle, she looked me straight in my eyes and said, “Again, Pam, again.” Our fingers began to move again, mine sliding inside of her, hers moving out to my clit. “Oh yes,” I moaned, “rub my fucking clit. Rub it.” Our next orgasms weren’t as coordinated; instead we traded off, first mine, then hers, then mine again, then hers again.

After three each we both just lay there, hands between each other’s thighs, basking in the pleasure and the contact, catching our breaths.

Eventually, she raised her hand to her mouth, sucking the slippery fluid off her fingers. “Mmm, you’re right,” she said. “Vanilla. Yummy.”

I laughed and moved my hand so I could taste her. “Not too much coffee,” I said. We both giggled. Then I remembered something. “Um, sorry about the ‘fucks’, Reverend. I kind of um….”

“We’ll give you some penance next time,” she smiled. “Another spanking perhaps.”

“I still want to lick you,” I said.

“We’ll save that for next time too, sweet child,” she said and kissed me gently. “But now, we need to go. You’re late for being back to work. And I’ve got a meeting I can’t miss.”

I still had my watch on my wrist and I glanced at it. “Oh shit,” I blurted then looked at Cheryl. “I’m sorry, again.”

She waved her hand at me, “Not like I haven’t heard it before.” The she pushed herself up. “Go on, get moving, you need to get dressed.”

As I levered myself up, Cheryl reached behind her and grabbed her bra, hooking the clasp in front of her, before turning it around and slipping it over her shoulders.

I was self conscious again as I crossed the clearing back to the pavilion where my clothes were. I found myself looking at the road back through the woods again and again, once more worried about being seen. I dressed in a hurry and finished adjusting my pantyhose while Cheryl stood next to me.

When I stood up, she leaned in and kissed me again. “I enjoyed that very much, Pamela,” she said.

“Me too,” I smiled back at her.

“Now go,” she said sternly, slapping me gently on my bottom. “You’re late.”

I drove back to work in a bit of a daze. I kept raising my left hand to my face to inhale Cheryl’s scent. I remembered that way back when I was dating Bob, he once told me that he did that while he was driving home after dates where he’d fingered me. It was strange to think about how I was doing the same thing now.

I made up an excuse about why I was late when I got back to work, but no one really cared. The day was slow and I kept zoning out for the rest of the day, remembering what happened at lunch.

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