Incest/Taboo The Therapist's Journey

Theresa looked at me looking at her breasts. "Sally, I don't know. She touched her breasts through her tee shirt. "I can't tell whether this nipple is stiff due to my memory of his hand in my cunt or my memory of stripping before the window. Can you?" She took my right hand in hers and placed it on her breast.

It may have been a joke, but we both jumped. I felt the warmth of her exquisite breast through the tee shirt. I could also feel her erect nipple, which had intrigued me since she described it in our first session. I stroked it.

"Oooh, that felt good. Slide to the end of the couch."

I did until my back was against the end and both legs on the couch. Theresa settled between my leg, which ran along side hers. Her back rested on my chest. She was a slender woman and I enjoyed the pressure of her body. She placed my hands on her breasts. "If you don't mind. It feels nice and comforting." I raised no objection. I traced the outline of her areolas and nipples with a finger and then, spreading my thumb and index finger I fitted them to the areolas of her breasts. That had the circumference about right. They were as wide as she had described. With both hands I then gently squeezed, bringing a low moan from her. Her tee shirt was not so tight that I couldn't slip my hands under her breasts. They were good-sized, my hands did not completely cover their undersides. I also felt their weight and firmness. For the first time I understood why guys so liked these things.

She had noticeably relaxed in the short time I had been enjoying her breasts. Nonetheless, it seemed a therapeutic technique I should not generally introduce to my clients.

"Where were we?"

"You had just told your son to sodomize you," I replied.

"Oh yeah, that," she giggled.

She continued "I laid across my husband's table, my ass sticking over the edge and my legs dangling to the floor, luxuriating in the fine soft leather table top. Taking the part of the eager partner, I pulled my ass cheeks apart, offering my backside to my son. My son's hands quickly replaced my own. He pulled my rump farther apart and licked my butthole. I felt a pleasant tingle, a sensation that continued when he blew a steady stream of air onto my now moist anus. He followed this my forcing his tongue inside. He spent the next few minutes alternating between licking and tongue-fucking my asshole. I was rubbing by clitoris against the leather table top in time with his tongue. I could feel the heat building up inside me and the juice flowing from my vagina onto my husband's table. If his goal was to stimulate me until I was ready to affirm my desire to let him enter me anally, he had succeeded. I told him to stop teasing me and put something inside.

"'C'mon baby, its time to fuck Mommy's asshole. Mommy's a virgin back there. Please baby, take my cherry. Take my cherry baby.' I found myself enjoying playing the naughty girl.

"His mouth left my butt. I felt a lubricated finger enter me from behind. He moved it slowly in, then out, then repeated. As he did he twisted and rotated the finger, increasing the sensations inside me. That finger was then joined by a second, and a third. I had never had anything bigger than one of his thumb's back there. I felt stretched and while the stimulation aroused me, it was joined by discomfort. I tried to compensate by rubbing my pussy even harder against the desk top. Before I chickened out, I turned my head to my son and let him know, 'It's time, time to put it inside me.'

"I watched as he coated his tool with lubricant and stepped between my legs. Even in the dim light of the office it glistened."

She paused. "He later told me that he had been carrying the lubricant with him for weeks hoping for this moment."

Theresa took a second, leaning against my body, and continued. "He patiently increased the pressure pushing the head of his thing into me. When the ring finally popped open, I felt a sharp pain. After he gave me a few seconds to adjust, he entered me slowly and steadily, an inch or two at a time, but even with the lubricant it hurt. When he fucked me the old-fashioned way I always thought his cock a tree trunk. When he entered my butt it was definitely a redwood. My breathing became rapid and deep to deal with the pain. He could tell I was uncomfortable and asked me if I wanted to continue. I told him yes, but that he needed to give Mommy a chance to adjust.

"He did just that. While we both were still he told me how long he had waited for this, how my butt was even tighter and hotter than he imagined, and how amazing it was to look down and see his thing buried inside me. Then he gestured to the window and announced that every man out there, no matter how successful, would beg to trade places with him.

"Of course, I had to tell him later that the idea of every guy at the party butt fucking me was not exactly a turn-on.

"Instead, I looked back at him. 'Son, that's not really the point. The point is that only you get to do it. No one else ever has, no one else ever will.' Sally, he seemed reassured. I am not sure he understood until that moment how committed I was to our affair.

"Over the next few minutes I started to accommodate to the monster inside me. I still felt stuffed, but it had shifted from the painful to the uncomfortable. He started to use the muscles in his groin to make his cock jump inside me. The movement was slight, but it was finding the sensitive places inside me that my son and I had spent the last few months exploring. It started to tingle back there. I lay still on the table, letting my mind focus on the burgeoning stimuli. I was starting to enjoy it. I told him to continue.

"Gently and carefully he started to fuck my ass. I don't think he fully understood the effect he was having on me until I let out a long slow moan. I took advantage of the moisture once again seeping from me to start rocking my hips, sliding my clit across the table top. My boy started matching my movement, his thrusts inside me limited to the two or three inches. It was really starting to get to me. The two of us had spent enough time in bed that he could easily discern the level of my arousal from the sounds I was making and the thin sheen of sweat covering my body. At the exact moment I was ready for it I felt his hands on my hips. He used them to control my movements, as he steadily increased the length of his thrusts. Soon he was fucking the full length of his cock into my butt. The head of his cock was sliding from my anus to deep within my bowels, but he was always smooth and slow. He continued his deliberate movement. I continued to slide my cunt across the table, soon finding myself lost in the sensations.

"Sally, I had not thought it could happen when we started, but it dawned on me that I was on the way to an orgasm. I had not thought anal intercourse could bring me to an orgasm, but I suddenly found one growing inside me. I let the excitement wash over me. I heard my son's breathing deepen. I looked back and could see he was completely lost in the sex; there was nothing in the world for him but what my rectum was doing to his penis. He was close to exploding. I needed more time.

"I cautioned him. 'Mommy loves being ass fucked, baby. Mommy's gonna cum baby, but she needs more time. You don't mind slowing down so Mommy can come? Do you baby? Mommy wants to cum on your magnificent cock.'"

"Boys do like to be praised, don't they," I observed.

Theresa laid her head back on my shoulder and kissed my cheek. "That they do."

"With that he pushed all the way into me, and started a rolling motion, mashing my clitoris into the table and increasing the stimulation. The intensity of what I was feeling had me on the edge. Then I heard some voices in the hall. The perfection of the circumstance struck me: my rump was being penetrated for the first time, it was happening on my husband's desk in my husband's office, we were surrounded by hundreds of his friends and colleagues, two of whom were less then thirty feet away separated from us by only a wall, and it was my son's cock inside me. I came. It felt like a coiled spring, compressed to its tightest point, and then pressed down a little farther. Then, bam, all that tension released and I was flying and at the apex of my arc, hovering for an impossibly long moment.

"Sally, I am usually not a screamer, but I was about to roar. Afraid that the people in the hallway would hear me, with whatever rationality I could muster I buried my mouth in my forearm to stifle my scream. Waves of bliss radiated out from where my son had entered me. As my body jerked and spasmed, I heard my son's low guttural grunt as he filled me with his cum. I slumped forward, he pulled out and staggered backwards.

Theresa placed his hands over mine, holding them still against her breasts.

"If you don't stop, I just might attack you."

I had, almost without thought, become increasingly aggressive with her breasts during the course of her story. A picture of me with her nipples in my mouth flashed through my mind.

She sat up, moving away from me, her back now against the couch. "Should I finish?"

I nodded yes.

"My son slumped back into one of the office chairs. I crawled onto the desk. After taking a few minutes to recover I rolled onto my side, propping my head on my hand, elbow on the table. We chatted for a few minutes, mostly about the rest of the day. Then I noted the time and told my son we needed to pack up. The table was stained in several places with what had flowed from my vagina and drops of his cum dripping from my backside. My son wanted to leave them as a souvenir. I insisted we clean it up. His half-hearted protest fell when I pointed out that any investigation into the source of the stains would show we had used our security card to enter the building and that we were the only ones likely to have a key to my husband's office. Did he really want us to be suspects?

"We left the building, found my drunk husband, and drove home. My husband was ready to crawl into bed, but we kept him up til his normal bed-time and fed him a few more whiskeys. By the time his head hit the pillow he was out cold. For the first time while my husband was in the house I crawled into my son's bed. We made sweet love and fell asleep. I had set the alarm for 3:00 A.M., when I woke up and returned to my husband's side."

She seemed finished. I was far too aroused to do any analysis, but I knew there was important information in this account. I would have to listen to the recording carefully. I did have a few questions.

"Theresa, has he been different since that day?"

"Actually, yes. Up until that time he had displayed a lot of the bravado you talked about, claiming he owned me, wanting me to tell him that I belonged to him, things like that. He doesn't do that anymore. He seems much more comfortable."

"Is anal intercourse still part of your sexual activity?" She nodded yes.

"Excuse me if this sounds a bit silly, but do you enjoy it more, less, or the same as the first time."

She thought for a moment. "The first time was very special, but if you are talking about pure physical pleasure, its better now. I'm less apprehensive and I have been stretched a little back there." She gestured to her backside. "Although I still need several days to recover." She paused and then asked, "So, what do you think?"

"There is a lot here, but I need to take some time to let it coalesce."

Should I continue to treat her and her son? My objectivity was hopelessly compromised. However, while I was presently far too addled to put it all together, the nagging feeling that what I had heard today was important wouldn't leave me. I thought I could help.

"I would like to see your son," I told Theresa. I went to buzz the staff, but no one responded. The appointment had rolled past 5:00 P.M. It was 5:30. "Let's go look at the appointment book."

We entered the outer office. I found a note affixed to the book showing my 4:00 P.M. for Wednesday had cancelled and asking whether I wanted to charge her. I have a 72 hour cancellation rule. If you do not cancel 72 hours in advance, you are charged for the session. Since this was her third cancellation, I checked the box instructing my staff to send her a bill. I opened the book and surveyed the available times. I told Theresa that Miles could have the Wednesday time slot. She said she would check with her son to see if he was available.

I reached into a draw at the desk in the front and retrieved the form all new patients are required to sign and two waivers of client confidentiality.

"What are those?" she asked.

"One is the same agreement you signed before your first appointment. The other two are waivers of confidentiality. All communications between you and I have been private. I am not allowed to discuss them with anyone. If I am going to see you and your son I will need to disclose to each of you information provided by the other. These forms give me permission to do so. In regular couples counseling permission to do so is presumed and can be provided verbally, but I don't think you two are a traditional couple; you two are pretty much your own category."

"Can I call tonight after I check his schedule?" she asked.

"There will no one here to talk to." I never provide my clients with my cell phone number. I want to maintain proper boundaries with my clients and do not want them calling me at 3:00 A.M. to discuss the import of a dream in which their mother was riding a unicorn. However, my boundaries with Theresa were already hopelessly compromised and I didn't see her as a threat for a middle of the night call. "I will give you my cell phone number, but please treat it confidentially." She thanked me. We walked to the door, holding hands. She turned to face me, slipping two fingers inside my belt.

"I can't thank you enough for what you are doing." Then she leaned forward and kissed me. Our lips played against each other for a few seconds. "My husband is out playing poker with his buddies tonight. I promised Miles he would have the winning hand. And again, thank you so much. You're the best." I told her I was happy I could help. She turned and headed for the elevators.

After she got on I looked at the clock. It was 5:40. I would need only five, maybe ten, minutes to close-up and get to the restaurant, another five to touch-up my make up, which should leave me enough time for this. I used my fingers to bring myself off and at least temporarily quiet the burning between my legs.
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* * * *​

I was ten minutes late meeting Robert. As I entered the restaurant he stood up and walked over to me, taking my hand and kissing me on the cheek. He pulled out my chair and returned to his seat. A bottle of my favorite wine was ready. As he filled my wine glass I apologized for running late.

"I had assumed you were working late with one of your clients."

"I was. She is new and presents issues I have never dealt with before. She gave me a lot of information today. I have this nagging feeling that once I let it settle my brain, we will be on the road to a resolution."

For the next hour I relaxed and enjoyed the pleasure of Robert's company. After briefly discussing the dinner party we were attending Saturday night, I sat back and enjoyed the conversation of the most charming, wittiest, and smartest man I'd ever known. By the time he finished his story about the latest snafu with the hospital's insurer, most of the wait staff and half the restaurant's patrons were doubled over in laughter.

He checked his watch and reminded me it was time to get on the road if I wanted to make my son's meet. He asked the waiter to prepare a doggie bag for me and then to prepare the bill while he walked his "lovely lady" to her car. There I kissed him with a bit more passion than usual and told him how much I loved him. He seemed a little taken aback by my sudden display of ardor, but told me he loved me too and kissed me on the cheek. I did love Robert. I was afraid of how the strange events of the last few days would affect us; I did not want to lose him.

I had turned my cell phone off when in the restaurant. When I powered it back up, I saw Theresa had called. I called back and reached a very happy voice struggling to catch its breath.

"Theresa, it's Sally. Did I call you at a bad time?"

Her voice was languid. "No, ten minutes ago would have been a bad time. Right now is just right."

There was no question about what they had been doing.

"Did you talk to your son?"

It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts. "I did. He is taking Stanford's mandatory introductory on-line course from 3:30 to 4:30 P.M. each day this week. Could he come at 5:00 P.M.?" Then she laughed. "I also told him how beautiful you are and what killer legs you have. He wants to know if you will wear garters and a leather dress."

I could hear her embarrassed son in the background, "Mom, you were not supposed to tell her that...."

When I said no to the clothes, Theresa was not fazed, "C'mon Sally it would be fun." I repeated my objection, she asked again. I started to object when I realized the pointlessness of arguing with a love-struck woman in a post-orgasmic haze. I also thought of a mid-calf leather dress I had not worn in awhile. I did look great in it.

"Okay." but thinking of how Miles had required Theresa to display her garters on their first date, I figured two could play this game. "He has to agree that he can't see the garters, he will have to take my word." I heard her explain my condition to her son and his quick assent. His tone of voice indicated he was happy just to be out of this conversation.

The after-hours appointment was contrary to policy. But I had checked my week's schedule and the 4:00 P.M. Wednesday and 3:00 P.M. Thursday were the only open spots. I didn't want to wait until next week, which was equally crowded, to deal with these two people. I could have the staff try to rearrange some existing appointments, but it was never a good idea to cancel sessions; my clients needed to know they are important to me, not fillers for time slots to be shuffled for my convenience.

"Tell him to come at 5:30 tomorrow." That would be after my staff had left. There was no reason to let them know I was breaking the rules.

I clicked off the cell phone. Because the meet was about fifteen minutes away I started to play the recording of that day's session, stopping it occasionally to dictate notes into my hand held recorder.
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* * * *​

When I arrived at the pool I saw Katie waving and sat beside her. She hugged me, "Hey, Dr. B." I looked Katie over. An attractive girl, she had a round face with big brown eyes, a wide mouth and full lips, and a pleasing sweet disposition. Her thick light brown hair reached her shoulders. She was a bit out-of-shape, she could lose ten pounds. Some of that extra weight was, however, was parked in a nice set of big round boobs. She also worshiped my son. I had long ago concluded they were sexually involved. As I looked at her now she struck me as a compliant, but not too innovative, lover. I thought about my son. He was probably the aggressive one. Did he take full advantage of Katie's submissive nature?

The itch between my legs, which had been reignited by listening to the recording, intensified as contemplated my son's sex life and watched the hunky young men competing in the meet. None was as handsome as my boy, but they were handsome. They must have girlfriends happy to put out, I thought.

Katie and I cheered when my son won his first race of the day. Since he was not competing in the next two races I turned my mind to my promise to wear garters. I didn't own any, so if I was to wear them I would need to stop at a lingerie store. There was a nice shop near the pool, but I put the thought out of mind. This was ridiculous, I wasn't going to wear any. The lingerie shop, however, still intrigued me. Would something sexy spice up my love life with Robert? In my present state I needed a little more fire from that man. Since we lived about half an hour from the pool, it would be convenient to pick something up tonight. I decided a quick visit to the shop made sense.

My son won his second race and his team the meet. He came over to Kate and I. She plugged a big kiss on his mouth. I found myself leaning over to do the same until a cautionary voice in my head diverted me to his cheek.

Normally after a meet one of the other parents took the boys to a local dive for pizza and some dancing, dropping them all back at the school to be picked up. As Katie and my son walked me to my car they told me that while she could bring them there tonight, she would be unable to pick them up. My son asked me if I could pick Katie and him up when the party broke at 10:30.

I did some quick calculations. If I visited the lingerie store and ran back by the house to drop off the doggie bag – I was already stretching the length of time it could remain unrefrigerated – I couldn't possibly pick then up before 10:45. He told me he could live with this small weekday curfew violation. I said I could if Katie's parents didn't mind. I didn't know her parents particularly well. He was a lawyer. A balding slightly nerdy guy, he had always been polite to me. She had been a physical therapist, but now worked part-time as a masseuse. It was clear she has once been an attractive women, but she had let herself go and could lose thirty pounds. She did feature an enormous pair of breasts, dwarfing even her daughter's. It was clear where Katie got her build. Katie checked with them and reported all was okay.

When we got to my car my son said, "By the time you pick us up all my leering friends will be gone. Why don't take off that suit and put on a sexy dress. You can join Katie and I for some dancing."

I should have said no; it was a school night and I should not be out dancing with teenagers, but it did sound like fun. I equivocated, "You don't want to see this bag of old bones on the dance floor." But in the face of my son's assurance that he was not familiar with any old bag of old bones and Katie's enthusiastic endorsement, I conceded the point. "Sure, honey, if that's what you want."

On he way home I stopped at the lingerie shop. I enjoyed the sexy clothes, picking out a bustier with matching panties, stockings, and garters for Robert. I also saw another set I liked, this a garter belt, panties, garters and stockings. It would fit well with that leather dress and I had promised Theresa's son. On impulse, I added these to my purchase.

I listened to my session with Theresa on the way home. When I arrived I pulled off my business suit and looked through some old dancing clothes. My favorite black dress was not so far out of style. It was short; it didn't make it quite half way to my knees. The bottom was layered and I remembered how it flared out saucer-like when I twirled around. I repeated my old move. It still did. The top was essentially a halter, with the shoulder straps coming together about two-thirds of the way down my bosom, displaying a healthy amount of cleavage and making it impossible to wear a bra. Were my breasts still firm enough for this outfit? I took them in my hand and felt their weight and heft. My thumb stroked my nipple – ooh, that felt good – and decided the girls were ready for the job. I added a skimpy pair of panties and five inch platform wedges. I knew I needed to take five minutes to extinguish the fire between my legs, but I was already running late. I had lingered in the lingerie shop longer than expected. I decided to leave.

On the way to the restaurant, which by this time of night was mostly a dance hall, I finished listening to the recording of Theresa's session. I had had some useful insights, but thought I needed one more review to confirm the ideas germinating in my head. I decided I would hit the gym in the morning, but instead of doing one hour of weights and one of cardiovascular, I would spend two hours on the treadmill and exercise bicycle listening to the recording, hoping that the exercise would distract my body and let my mind focus. With images of Theresa being ass-fucked by her son, the hunky young swimmers in their tight suits, and my posing in the new underwear for Robert swirling through my head, the burning between my legs had a mind of its own. The skimpy panties I had put on were already soaking wet.

I surrendered to the need, pushing my fingers inside my panties to bring myself to an orgasm. I was close to an explosion when I noticed the restaurant. I decided to pull around the back which, I hoped, would be empty and where I could finish the job. When I got there, however, I saw two people making out with full youthful passion and energy. Then I noticed who they were: Katie and my son, mouths locked together and hands roving freely. I flipped off my turn signal and continued to the end of the block. There, stopped at a red light, I shook as my orgasm hit me. I wasn't brought back to reality until the car behind honked, the light having turned green. I drove another block and turned left to double back to the restaurant. First, however, I pulled to the side of the road and sent by son a text indicating I was getting close.

When I entered the restaurant's parking lot they were no longer there. They were easy to spot on the dance floor. The waved me over and I joined in, dancing with both of them. After the song ended each of them looked me up and down. My son was his understated self, "Looking good Mom." Katie was more animated. "Dr. B, you are some hot." Katie insisted that I take the next couple of dances with my son. I sat down for the next number when a young man approached me. A handsome brunette, he asked me to join him on the dance floor. I looked over to my son, who nodded his approval. After that song ended, the proprietor announced that the next song was for girl's only. Katie dragged me onto the dance floor with her. My son joined the two of us for the next song. After that, reclaiming my role as a responsible adult, I told then it was time to get home.

Katie and my son piled into the back seat. Katie's house, except for the porch light, was dark. My son got out of the car to walk her to the door. After he had taken a few steps, he turned back to the car and motioned me to lower the window. When I did he leaned forward and said, "No peeking."

I peeked. After Katie unlocked the front door she turned to kiss my son good night. He initially did not respond, so she strained upwards to reach his mouth, stretching her neck and standing on her toes. My son lowered his head to hers, and kissed her. At the same time he took her hands in his, held them up, and backed her against the front of the house. He used his body to keep her spreadeagled form immobile against the wall. It took little imagination to envision his erection pressed against her sex. He held her like that for a minute or two, and then stepped away. She was practically panting, her face a mask of lust. She looked over at the car, but I knew she couldn't see me in its darkened interior. She started to reach for his crotch, but his hand stopped her. She went into the house.

My son returned to the car and opened my door. I noted his obvious erection.

"Do you mind, I would like to drive home."

I stepped out of the car. "No, of course not honey."

He walked with me to the passenger's door and opened it. I got in.

On the way home he asked me if I had peeked.

"I did. I guess I was a bad girl. Are you going to punish me when we get home?"

He seemed to consider seriously what I had offered as a joke. "Not this time, but the next time you're a bad girl, you'll get a double punishment. Do you think that is fair?"

Enjoying the game, I replied, "Yes. I will try very hard to be a good little girl."

When we got home we hugged. I was disappointed; his erection had disappeared. I retired to my bedroom, undressed, and slipped into my bed. There I put on my headphones and turned on the recording of that day's session with Theresa. I had no clinical intentions at all as I brought myself to another orgasm.
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