And this isn’t even the worst I have to admit to! At last I manage to open my eyes again.
Dr. Turner is merely nodding calmly as her pen flies across the page. Rather than scorn or censure she even has the faintest satisfied smirk on that authoritative visage. At last she finishes jotting down her reaction. Tucking that classy pen behind an ear she holds out a hand.
“Very good. Excellent, even. I will see the report of this ‘unprecedentedly perverse’ dream of yours now.”
Still flushed with acute embarrassment, I hold forth a sheaf of cheap printer paper. Dr. Turner plucks it from me with that faint smirk still acutely stirring my shame and my ever-mounting arousal and anxiety. Leaving me to lie there below her in craven craving, she sits back and begins to read. After the number of time
