Jobs

Act 6 – The s*x Therapist

It’s my job to help you find your clít, especially when your husband mistakes your uvula for it.

~ Selena Lopez

Yet another case of unwanted pregnancy, from the girl who sat in a chair across my table inside my private clinic, at the hospital where Baby Baker, wife to this city’s mayor, gave birth to twins, a horny baby boy and a slutty baby girl. How raunchy.

However, this wasn’t about Baby and her horny twins. This was about my client who’s a sniveling teenager, telling me that she wasn’t ready for teen pregnancy and that she wanted her boyfriend’s sperm extracted out of her. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. Her boyfriend’s superman sperm had probably fermented right about now.

She’s dressed in what this generation dubbed as ‘hobo chic’, which are basically random, loose-fitting clothes draped around the body to give a woman’s figure the illusion of a form. Though this young lady wore the ensemble quite well, I’ll give her that much. She looked like the drugged Olsen twin, not sure which one though because I don’t hear much about those girls anymore. It’s like they vanished into thin air. Or probably just got way too thin and had become invisible. Who was I to mock them? I did drugs, too.

She was also sporting a very pale look, which told me that her parents would probably give her a good ass whooping if they found out that a bun was baking in her oven, which would rise like a fúckcake in a few months, “You should have come early,” I lectured as I took my fountain pen to her records, noting her vitals and her wild mating habits, “Have you been living under a rock? Haven’t heard of a condom, or birth control shots, aka contraceptive injections?” She looked so dejected, like I told her that Justin Beiber was gay and preferred fúcking díck instead of cúnt.

Her shoulders sagged as she breathed low, “Actually yeah, my boyfriend is Fred Flintstone,” she stated like what she said was normal. I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth, muttering some obscene profanity in my head as I wrote Fred Flintstone on her file to remind me that I had a client who was cuckoo and brain dead, a few weaves short from being a basket case, “I’m serious,” her tone suddenly grew, “I live with him in his family’s old basement and like we don’t like have access to condoms and like all that stuff.”

She was suffering from the ‘like’ syndrome, which I didn’t have anything against because I too went through that phase when I was younger. I would always substitute my words with ‘like’ if the proper word didn’t come to me. I used it as some sort of filler for an absence of thought.

Okay, another thing, using ‘old’ to describe one’s basement should be an understatement. In my opinion, all basements are old. Second, how the hell were they living together and not think of using a condom which, in my opinion, is a must-have for everyone at the age of eighteen, though sadly I recommend carrying it as early as fifteen because more and more girls are getting prego like it’s a trend. What’s with all the kids these days? They’re all horny and itchy and scratchy.

But hell, who was I to judge? I was making a living out of their misery, “Tammy, really? No access to condoms? Like…” I used ‘like’ to mimic her, because the way to get through to these teenagers was by using their language, “…like no rubber at all? Can’t you guys like ask your friends for some money and buy a box of like those werewolf Trojans which is the “in-thing” right now what with all the Teen Wolf and shít??”

She pouted and it was all the answer I needed. She was already in her first trimester so no amount of scolding would do her any good, “I’m sorry. I don’t even like know Teen Wolf and like…” she started crying, “…we don’t even have basic cable. s*x is the only fun thing that poor people can afford,” Oh Lord have mercy on this poor child’s horny soul. But she had a point. s*x is the only thing that poor people can afford. God, even at one point I was poor and it was all I did. But I was smart enough to stroke a rubber down all those men whose hard dícks I fúcked.

I scribbled some powerful medication on paper to help her melt the spawn inside her womb. I also wrote my recommendation to an address should the meds fail to work and the only option was to abort. I knew that a chunk of my soul chipped away whenever I did this, but it was the only answer to her pressing problem, especially this far off into her pregnancy. The fetus was basically a Sigourney Weaver Alien right now, taking root within her like a boa constrictor. Well, good luck to her. Her boyfriend, who jerked into a cup to get money to pay for this checkup, had very strong swimmers. As a s*x therapist I consider all aspects, and I was gob smacked when I checked to see the state of her boyfriend’s tadpoles. His sperm were very potent, and could swim much faster than Michael Phelps.

“Tell your boyfriend to keep jerking in cups so he can get the money to buy all that crap. Or you could have him sign up onto one of those porn sites. I hear they pay good money videotaping boys who are willing to get a good wank,” I told her, straight-up. No use whacking moles around the bushes. No use sugarcoating either because it causes diabetes. What I’d learned in my years of practice was that sometimes a direct approach was far more conclusive than spouting some virginal crap that nobody really believes in. Telling people it’s going to be okay was bullshít when it’s clear that life only gets worse before we die.

“Run along now,” I shooed her, not making her pay anymore for the checkup. It was the least I could do. And besides, I felt guilty about writing down a prescription as strong as the Bubonic Plague. Just a few doses and she’ll be shitting her fetus in no time, “Go on. Time is wasting.”

“Don’t I like pay for anything?” she fiddled with her hair, twirling and winding it with her index finger. I told her that it was on the house, “Thank you doc … like um …” she ran her fingers through her lustrous, blonde hair and what I wanted to do was shave her bald like Britney Spears.

“Just go and do what I asked you to do. Next time we meet, I’m writing you a big fat bill,” I winked and she giggled before scuttling off, disappearing behind the door to leave me with my fruitless attempts to finish a level of Candy Crush on my iPad, which I believe wasn’t a strategy game because it had an element of luck. I finger the candies and they explode and that’s it. Plants vs. Zombies was still the shít in my opinion. At least that game makes you think long and hard.

There was knocking on my door. I wasn’t expecting a client, but what the hell, “Come in,” I called and the door swung open to one of my favorite girls, “Tealia, how are you?” I rose and leaned over my desk to give her a peck on each cheek, realizing that she had an effervescent glow about her, which I believe wasn’t makeup, but the workings of a man named Jace Thompson, “You are positively glowing. What brings you here?” I admired how beautiful Tealia was. Modesty aside, I was too. But we were polar opposites of each other, save for the color of our hair which was a dark ebony. My complexion was savory brown compared to her pinkish alabaster skin. I had a cat-eye squint while she had those cute doe-eyes. And she wore blood red lips, while mine was something a little more muted.

“You owe the pleasure of my visit not to me, but to a friend of mine who needs your help … desperately,” she started saying, all the while fixing the lines of her frumpy dress which actually looked good on her. It was another one of her Oxblood dresses, and in spite of its design being old-fashioned, it still looked young and vibrant because she was wearing it, “She complains a lot about her husband, telling me that her man doesn’t know where to find her clít. I asked if her husband was gay and she told me he’s straight as a pole, so I don’t know what’s up with that.”

I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes to the side as I pulled my notepad, “So I’m guessing you want me to do a house call and show them how to find the goods, hmm?” I confirmed, and was a little miffed because I didn’t like personal visits. But there was good money to be made with house calls. The money I’d make would be thrice as much and I could use it to buy a set of Christian Louboutins, which was this generation’s Manolo Blahniks, “Fine. Give me the details.”

She cleared her throat, smiling because she knew that her friend would be in good hands, “A fairly new couple in their mid-twenties. Just got married and are ready to get their sexy on. Both are hot but are very strong Christians, so they are basically frothing around the mouth in need after starving themselves for years. They are now ready to explore. Only problem is the husband doesn’t know what to do with his wife, and this is where s*x ends and frustration begins. I would’ve helped, but I love you too much to take business away from you,” she tilted her head and pulled a mischievous smile.

“Smart girl, that’s what keeps us close,” I appreciated Tealia because she was the kind of friend who keeps the lines of communication open. I’ve only known her for a year but our friendship felt like a good decade to me, “Are you also here to get your shots?” I asked, knowing her ovulation calendar and its cycles.

“That too,” she answered, “I’ve been mating with one of my students. Jace Thompson, the one I told you about. I’m helping him graduate this year so he can finally get a job or go to college, depending on where his passions would take him,” she told her story of how fond she was of her boytoy while I prepared the shots.

She startled when her phone vibrated with a message which I knew was Jace’s. She bit her lip when the ringtone ascended. It was a slow, erotic ballad, begging her to take the young man’s call. She didn’t need privacy because whatever conversation they have in my presence I was open about. Her cheekbones lifted to a blush as she answered the call, “Hey,” she giggled which made me giggle too, “Oh really. Stop it,” she was rubbing her thigh and giggling throughout the call.

Hmm … was Tealia Buecher in love? After all the years of playing hide the salami with students, was she finally letting her hair down and responding to the beck and call of her heart’s true desire. I was happy for her. Love was hard to find, especially the kind of love that would last.

She turned to look at me with a smile on her face, “Jace has a boner. In geometry class,” she said, and I could hear Jace muttering from the earpiece, “We’ve been sexting and he doesn’t know how to make soft what is hard.”

“Put him on speaker phone,” I instructed, and that she did, “Jace. This is Doctor Lopez. Ever wondered what Pavarotti sounds like when having s*x? Imagine how loud he can get when he moans,” I heard the young man laugh.

“Holy shít,” he responded, “I think I’m good now. That’s some freaky shít doc! My boner just died.”

“Glad to be of service,” I answered and Tealia resumed to speak with her man. I sauntered to where she was sat and hiked up her dress, revealing her bare hip which was waiting for the shot. I pushed the needle in and felt myself grow warm at the sight of a teacher falling head over heels in love.

I was looking at a typical American couple, hand in hand when they opened the door. The blond, beefy guy towered at six foot three and the girl at a good five foot eleven. As for me, I was five foot seven, “Jeremy, Stacy,” I nodded, “I’m friends with Tealia. She says you guys need help with something?” The couple looked at each other and gave one another a reassuring smile.

They wore bathrobes as I instructed. I could feel the strain in their relationship just by looking at them. They reminded me of a perfect couple but were fighting an internal struggle to get intimate, like all the puzzle pieces were laid before them but they didn’t know how to form the picture, much less line the frame. I balled my hand over their adjoined fists, “I’m here to help. Just show me where the bedroom is and we’ll get started. I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” I reassured with a genial smile.

We all walked upstairs and into their bedroom. They had a nice home, and I could tell that they were both responsible in maintaining the place, seeing that they had all the necessities that a young couple needed, “Doctor Lopez we uh…” Jeremy started saying and I planted my index finger over his hot, full lips.

“I’ll make sure you get your money’s worth, Jer. This is not about talking. Learning what feels good is about action. Watch, and I’ll show you how you can make Stacy into a woman. Now, bathrobes off,” I instructed.

I needed a chair and surely there was one. I pushed it to face the bed and pulled Jeremy by the chin to sit him down. How empowering to have two people who were taller than me obey my every whim and command.

I flattened my palms over Jeremy’s bare chest, pushing him down the velvety chair to relax as I tell his wife to sit by the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, “Take your panties off,” I ordered her and she looked to her husband with a disapproving frown which Jeremy returned with an approving nod, “Don’t be afraid now,” I curved a hand over her shoulder, squeezing to relieve some of the tension, “Jeremy needs to see what’s inside you and how your body reacts. Then we’ll have him do bad things to you to make you feel good,” I was wearing a flimsy silvery dress to allow my body mobility as I climbed the bed and kneeled behind Stacy, leaning my chin over her shoulder as I turned my face to smell the glorious scent of her lush hair. I breathed low in her ear as I glided my hands down her arms, “You need my help taking your panties off?” I whispered and she nodded, “Did you hear that, Jeremy? She wants me to take her panties off.”

Jeremy swallowed hard and watched as I snaked my fingers into Stacy’s panties. I swept my bare hands down to meet her pudenda and she arched her back in response. Jeremy’s eyes locked with mine as I closed my mouth around Stacy’s neck, sucking at her flushed skin near the pulse. Her shallow breaths communicated the growth of her arousal, building inside her even more as I rubbed the pads of my fingertips against the face of her wet pudenda, “Stacy…” I murmured while nipping her earlobe, her heart sped and I could feel it, “…your breasts feel heavy, don’t they?” I whispered and she nodded, “You need someone to touch them, right?” Her neck curved as I deepened my love bite.

Her breathing was low and hard as I motioned with a crooked finger for Jeremy to join us, “Jer, I want you to pull her panties down slowly, away from each foot. Then I want you to kiss her instep while massaging the sole, and then suck on each toe, hard,” he nodded and did what he was told as I pulled my hands away from where I was palming Stacy, making her groan in frustration.

I glided my hands up her waist to cradle the fullness of her breasts, sweeping my fingers over the smoothness of her areolas that slowly hardened, “Stacy … does it feel good if I do this,” I rolled the buds between the base of my middle and ring finger, my fingertips squeezing her breasts for maximum pleasure. Stacy begged to be taken as I palmed her breasts with my possessive grip, appreciating the hardened texture of her nubs which I toyed and elongated from base to tip.

“Stacy. Bring your knees up. Rest your feet on the edge of the bed,” I commanded through a breathy murmur, “Whatever happens, don’t move. Even if you feel like exploding, don’t move. You are not allowed to move. Jeremy will move for you, and I will help him,” I felt her head nod in affirmation against my cheek, “That’s a good girl,” I shifted to cradle her body against mine in order to support her weight. I stretched my legs on either side of her and gently pulled her elbows back, “I want you to wrap your arms around my legs. It’s like you’re about to give birth and my legs are the only things you can hold on to, to keep you from falling … yes … that’s a good girl. You look so hot right now and Jer wants to be inside you. Look at his eyes. Do you see? He wants to make you happy. Pretend that I’m not even here. It’s just the two of you.”

I bit my lower lip and lifted my chin up, “Jer, I need you to get something in my bag. It’s a small, clear bottle,” I whispered and he turned to take the bag I left by the side of the chair, “Pour the liquid onto your palms,” I saw a glimpse of Jeremy’s erection poking through his briefs and I could tell that it was straining with an ache that could only be relieved with friction and heat, “Pour some onto my hands as well,” I pushed my arms through Stacy’s curved elbows, welcoming the oil as I clenched my fists for the coating to spread. It’s velvety to the touch and could pass as lube.

I started making slow, sweeping circles over and around Stacy’s breasts, focusing my handiwork into making her come with just the teasing of her n*****s, “Now, now, Jer, you don’t want Stacy to come without fúcking her, right? You don’t want your díck outshined by my hands now would you?” I challenged.

“No. I don’t want that,” he grunted in a hoarse voice as I squeezed Stacy’s n*****s harder between the pads of my thumb and index fingers. She was practically convulsing, her legs barely holding her up as she moaned like how a woman was supposed to at the touch of lubricated hands.

I too found it hard to suppress my arousal as I watched Jeremy lift his tongue to sweep the left and right cheek of Stacy’s pudenda using a lazy, upward motion. I could only imagine the sensation of being licked by Jeremy’s pointed tongue, flicking to open her folds, wetting her v****a.

“That’s it Jer … you’re doing great,” I coached while pulling hard at Stacy’s n*****s, rolling and twisting them between my fingers which made her moan, “Jer … I want you to flatten your tongue against her. I want her to feel your heat. Then push your tongue inside her. Taste her slowly. Enjoy how salty she is like your favorite oyster. Go ahead. Do it now. Tongue-f**k her,” Oh God. I was wetting from where I was sat. I felt omnipotent as I watched these two lose themselves in the carnality of their actions, all sense of awkwardness washing away from their bodies as they realize that lovemaking is about what feels good.

I sucked on Stacy’s neck as Jeremy ate her p***y, pushing his nose deep to part the folds of her v****a. I could only imagine the sharp tingles that Stacy was feeling right now as Jeremy buried his hot, wet tongue inside her, licking in places that I knew were her pleasure spots as I watched her toes curl against the edge of the bed, “Don’t fight it, Stacy. Feel it. Surrender,” she was struggling against me as Jeremy ravaged her cúnt like a meal.

I was writhing in need as well as I swept my buttocks in slow circles to acquire a bit of friction. I thumbed Stacy’s n*****s repeatedly like I was strumming a guitar. Her moans piled as she cried incoherently, the pressure growing outside of her, threatening to leave her body the more I flicked her n*****s with the slick touch of my lubricated fingertips, “Jer, she’s not gonna last much longer. Do you see that swollen nub hanging tight inside of her?” I asked and he nodded, “Good. Push your díck against that and start moving. Don’t stop until you make her come.”

“But, but won’t that get her pregnant?” he asked, concerned.

“Stacy, you wanna have a baby?” I whispered in her ear and she cried her yes, “You hear that, Jer? She wants to have a baby with you. What are you waiting for? f**k her now!” I ordered.

I held Stacy in place, pulling her knees up as Jeremy entered. I saw a glimpse of his tool and was impressed how thick it was. I bit my lower lip for I felt close to coming too. I was squeezing my inner thighs as I strummed Stacy’s n*****s like how I would my own, helping her build orgasm.

I then realized that I was a witness to this couple’s first ever mating session. And in that glory I felt important, realizing that my job transcended my profession and that I wasn’t just some horny therapist but an ally, a s****l aid to those who needed support.

And that was exactly what I was doing now, supporting Stacy’s weight as Jeremy fúcked her like a brawling adolescent, experiencing for the first time what it’s like to be inside a woman, wrapping around him, tightening, squeezing for more friction.

“Doctor Lopez…” I heard Stacy cry and it made me laugh a little because she wasn’t crying Jeremy’s name but mine, “I’m coming,” she curved her neck over my shoulder and I bit into her neck, making her detonate into a powerful wail which was soon followed by a harsh bellow from Jeremy who jerked uncontrollably against her with his hands gripping my legs. He wasn’t even aware that he was holding my legs instead of Stacy’s. They both came with Jeremy slamming against her repeatedly, stretching his orgasm as he grunted and hissed the sexiest profanities.

“Did Jeremy find your clít, Stacy?” I asked and she nodded, “Well then. My job here is done. It was nice working with the two of you. If you guys ever feel like having a three-way. You know who to call,” Jeremy looked to me with a twinkle in his eyes as I kissed Stacy’s temple, cradling her in my arms as her body melted and sagged post-orgasm.

“Charlie!” I called as I stepped into the foyer. He appeared from the kitchen wearing an apron and wielding a spatula as he walked towards me, “Where is everybody?” I kissed him on the cheek.

“They’re playing in the living room. I’m telling you Selena, buying them an Xbox and Playstation was a bad idea. Where did you even get that idea from?” he asked and I stifled a laugh.

“From Laura Sawyer, a friend. And don’t you pull that face on me. You play just as much video games as the kids do,” I scolded him as I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Oh Charlie. Do you still find me attractive after all these years?” I cooed softly.

He rewarded me with a smile, “Of course, hun. Of course,” I kissed my husband, realizing that I wasn’t just a s*x therapist. I was also a proud mother of three, and a wife to Washington’s top OB.

“How did it go with your house call?” he asked and I giggled in his chest, “Come on. Don’t tell me you got freaky with them,” I looked up biting my lip, “Oh ho ho ho, Selena. You’re so dirty.”

I knew he was cooking something good, “What you making??”

“Baked oysters with melted cheese, your favorite,” he crooned.

I smiled at my husband, licking my lips to savor the aftertaste of Jeremy’s cúm in my mouth after I showed Stacy how it was to give good head, “Let’s eat.”