The therapy lesson week#1

This therapy lesson was a little unorthodox

It was late afternoon sun glinted off the windshield as Sweety's b.f. drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for **Sweety**. He smirked at the thought of her walking into that therapist’s office, all prim and proper in her white linen dress, her ass barely covered by the flimsy fabric. The dress hugged her curves just enough to tease, the spaghetti straps doing little to hide the way her tits pressed against the thin material. As he adjusted himself in his seat, he was already imagining the show she’d put on.

Sweety had a habit of walking into situations that always ended the same way—her getting her tight little body used to the wrong kind of attention. And today? Oh, today was going to be no different.

He didn’t have to wait long. The office door swung open, and there she was, strutting toward the car with that familiar sway in her hips. Marcus rolled down the window. "How’d it go, baby?"

Sweety’s lips curled into a smirk as she slid into the passenger seat, her dress riding up just enough to flash him a glimpse of her bare thighs. "Oh, you know," she purred, buckling her seatbelt. "Just another day of getting exactly what I need." Her summer dress was a soaked sticky semen smelling mess. It stuck to her tanned body and was almost translucent. Her sexy legs were glazed like a donut

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What’s that?"

She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "A good, hard fucking." Cum leaked between her firm runners legs pooling in the leather seat.

B.f. groaned, gripping the wheel tighter. "You’re a fucking mess, Sweety."

She giggled, but the sound was cut short as he floored it, peeling out of the parking lot with a laugh.

Inside the therapist’s office, things had taken a turn.

Sweety had barely had time to sit down before her therapist—some smug bastard with a god complex—blindfolded her and pressed her against the wall. "Today’s session is going to be different," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "No talking. Just feeling."

Before she could protest, her wrists were yanked above her head, leather straps biting into her skin as she was left dangling, her toes barely touching the floor. She wriggled, but the straps held her firm. "W-what the fuck—?"

A hand clamped over her mouth. "Shhh," a deep voice growled from behind her. "You’ll like this."

And then she smelled it—cologne, musky and intoxicating. More hands gripped her, pulling her dress up over her hips, exposing her bare ass. A tongue dragged up her slit, making her gasp against the hand over her mouth. Another set of fingers teased her asshole, circling, probing.

Sweety moaned, her body betraying her as wetness pooled between her thighs. She was already dripping, her pussy aching for more.

"Fuck, look at her," a new voice rasped. "Such a desperate little slut."

Hands grabbed her thighs, spreading her wider as a mouth latched onto her clit, sucking hard. She cried out, her body jerking against the restraints as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. The tongue worked her faster, lapping at her folds before dipping inside her, fucking her with slow, deliberate strokes.

"P-please—" she whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily.

A thick finger pushed into her ass, stretching her open just enough to make her whimper. The tongue on her pussy never stopped, driving her wild as she came with a shuddering cry, her juices gushing over the face buried between her thighs.

"Fuck yeah," someone groaned. "She’s soaking wet."

Before she could catch her breath, she was untied, spun around, and bent over the couch. A cock pressed against her entrance, thick and hot, and then—*fuck*—she was being split open, stretched around something massive.

"Oh god—!" she gasped, her fingers clawing at the couch cushions.

The first thrust sent her sprawling forward, her tits bouncing against the leather. A hand gripped her hair, yanking her head back as another cock pressed against her lips. She opened her mouth, taking it deep, gagging around the thickness as another cock teased her ass.

She was being used—no, *worshipped*—by at least ten men, each taking turns to fuck her mouth, her pussy, her ass. They didn’t hold back, slamming into her with rough, punishing strokes that left her breathless.

"Fuck, she’s taking it so good," one groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he pounded into her from behind.

Sweety could only moan around the cock in her mouth, her body a mess of sweat and cum. Her dress was ruined, plastered to her skin, her tits heavy and aching as two different mouths sucked and nipped at her nipples.

A cock pressed against her throat, and she gagged, tears streaming down her face as she took it as deep as she could. Pre-cum dripped onto her chest, painting her in thick, sticky ropes as another cock pressed against her lips.

"Such a good little cum dumpster," a voice sneered, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a red mark.

She loved it.

She *needed* it.

When the last man came, he didn’t hold back—he buried himself to the hilt and unloaded inside her with a groan, his cum gushing out of her pussy in thick, white rivulets.

Sweety collapsed onto the couch, her body trembling, her mind blissfully empty.

The therapist cleared his throat. "Same time next week?"

Sweety pushed herself up on shaky arms, her dress clinging to her cum-slicked skin. She smirked at him, her lips swollen, her hair a mess. "Oh, absolutely."

And with that, she walked out, her hips swaying just a little extra, knowing damn well she’d be back for more