Hot session with my therapist

Rachel doesn’t come for help. She comes for him. Her therapist is tall, dark-skinned, and built like a promise. The moment the door shuts she’s on her knees, mouth open, lips stretching around the thick length she’s paid to taste. She works him slow, savoring every inch, tongue dragging along the underside until he groans and pushes deeper. He doesn’t talk much. He lets his hands speak, fingers threading through her dark hair, guiding her head in a steady rhythm. Spit glistens on her chin. Her blouse hangs open, breasts bare, nipples tight from the chill and the heat building between her thighs. When he lifts her onto the desk, she spreads without hesitation. He slides in deep, filling her in one smooth thrust, skin meeting skin with a wet sound that echoes off the quiet walls. Rachel clutches at his shoulders, legs locked around his waist, breath catching every time he drives in harder. They move like they’ve done this before. Like they both know exactly what she came for. He fucks her until her voice breaks, until her body shudders around him, until he spills inside with a low growl that vibrates through her chest. Session over. She’ll be back next week.