Thursday, June 26, 2008

Getting into his head

Head Doctor
by KM
Part 1

The leather couch is cool against my neck in a very pleasant sort of way. Doctor Richards is so delicious from this angle. Especially on a spring morning like today when the light filters in through the edge of the shade just so to give the angular edge of his jaw a stark outline when I look up at him. His elegant fingers grip the pen just so, the tip making pretty little scratching noises on his white notepad.

Every scratch gives me an erotic tickle that I feel deep in my soft, sensitive places as if he is transcribing directly onto my erogenous zones. The tingling follows his pen across my thighs and spirals around my belly button, scratches little zaps of pleasure onto my ass and curls around my sensitive ankles. Sometimes I have to press my knees together to keep from going crazy. Well, I’m already fucking crazy, but sometimes I have to squeeze away the orgasmic pen strokes.

Does he write down everything? Or does he save his ink for the really hot lines, like, “Yes Doctor, I believe I understand what you’re saying, but could you show me, just to be sure. No, not with your finger, show me with your cock. I’m a very visual person.”

Does he add his own liner notes to my psychotic babbling? My pussy detects scratching beyond my speaking. When I dramatically fling a black satin-gloved arm into the air as I twist on the couch to get more comfortable, my breasts sliding together in perfect cleavage revealage, does he write, “Hot fucking gloves Mrs. D. I can see the wet spot on your dress. You want to touch yourself there while I watch. I know your secrets. Diagnosis: fucking nuts. Now lick mine with your little pink kitty cat tongue and wrap your black satin around my cock. Do it Mrs. D. Do it now. Doctor’s orders.”

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