Sara & Laura Ch. 02

Sara once again found herself seated in the leather wingback chair of her therapist's waiting room. Only a week had passed since she had snuck out through the back exit, box of gifted sex toys in hand, quite confident that she wouldn't be returning. She had returned, though, and her second visit to the quiet, comfortable waiting room had her feeling more relaxed, yet more self-conscious than before. She felt like this week, she would be more comfortable discussing her sex-related hangups with Laura. She also knew she had become infinitely more aware of her body since the week prior, and it made her nervous. Before her introduction to Laura, Sara couldn't remember the last time she had masturbated with her penis. In the last four days, however, she had done so three times.

The first time must have broken some kind of seal, she had reasoned, a semi-erotic dream about Laura almost compelling her to act. Of course, Laura had the impeccable timing of calling Sara immediately afterwards, reigniting her desire. Sara did her best to ignore her returned-to-life erection, and it went away on its own in what seemed like an interminable amount of time. The second time was the very next day in the shower, her knees buckling at climax and sending her headfirst into the hard tile wall. She still had a large, tender goose-egg on her head, and wore her hair up in the hopes of hiding it.

The third time was this morning. More out of utility and practical planning than raw, unignorable desire, she had masturbated in the shower again, this time seated on the floor so as to avoid another incident. She had been trying to mentally brace herself for another uncomfortable sex conversation with Laura, which turned into thoughts of Laura, which turned into thoughts about Laura. Sara wanted to level the playing field a little, and reduce her chance of fatal embarrassment by erection.

She didn't have to wait long before the redheaded receptionist told her Laura was ready to see her. She felt a little more familiar with this place, a little more prepared, and walked more confidently across the softly carpeted waiting room, firmly gripping the handle, and pushing the door open, without knocking. She was caught off-guard, however, by the almost overpowering scent of Laura's perfume. That light, inoffensive spring-flower bouquet assailed her as she entered the inviting private office space. The combined effect of the delectable scent and actually seeing Laura, this time wearing a plain white blouse and snugly-fitted black khakis that hugged and accepted her ample curves, was the resurrection of her dream. The dream she had thought back on often in the last few days, of Laura approaching her in bed, ready to perform some ill-defined sexual favour.

Sara became acutely aware of the blood that was rushing to her face, and even more aware of the stirrings down below. Restrained in tight panties, her cock twitched of its own accord at the memory. She quickly planted herself on the couch next to the door and crossed her legs, hoping to cover her embarrassment. Laura stood up from behind her desk and rolled her chair out in front, sitting down across from Sara. Pen and writing pad in hand, she stared at Sara for what felt like minutes, but was surely only a few seconds. She smiled.

"Hi Sara," she said softly, soothingly, "I'm glad to see you back here again." There was something in her tone, in that low, mature voice that put Sara a little more at ease.

"Thanks for having me back again," she said rather dumbly. She mentally kicked herself. Of course Laura had her back, she was a therapist, it was her job.

Laura didn't waste any time getting down to business, "I see you came here empty-handed today, does that mean you've done your homework?"

"Umm, sort of..." Sara said quietly. Laura raised an delicate eyebrow at this. "What I mean is, I didn't use any of the toys in the box, but I did, uh," she paused, trying not to stammer. Laura tilted her head forward ever so slightly, imploring her. "Masturbate." Sara finished simply.

"That's good, Sara," she said, sounding sincerely pleased, "I'm glad to hear that. Once?"

"Uh, th-three times actually." Sara felt the blood rush back to her face. She could still hardly believe she was sharing any of this.

"How did it feel?"

Sara was struck by the brazen simplicity of the question. She opened her mouth but couldn't find the right words.

"That's not what I meant," Laura continued, the hint of a laugh on the periphery of her voice, "what I mean is, how did it feel to be sexual with yourself? Emotionally, psychologically, any thoughts?"

"Oh, uh, well kind of a little embarrassing, I guess," she said meekly. Laura wrote something down on her pad at that, and Sara's eyes were suddenly drawn to her therapist's blouse. Specifically, that the top three buttons were left open, splaying the collar wide and revealing Laura's plunging cleavage. She became aware of how large Laura's breasts were, and how they pushed together, nearly spilling out of her top. The blouse was perhaps a size too small, and the first fastened button seemed hard-pressed to restrain her enticing curves. Sara wondered for a moment how it would feel to hold those breasts in her hands, and maybe press her face into them, or if she were to slide her-

Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the realization that Laura was staring directly at her, as she stared at Laura's cleavage. Sara felt her face turn beet-red, and unfortunately felt her cock slip out of her panties, still soft but growing. She squeezed her knees together to restrain herself before she began to tent her skirt, and she thought she might cry from the embarrassment and shame, but no tears came. She stared down at the carpet.

"Sara?" Laura said after a moment. Sara said nothing, trying to keep herself from throwing up from the humiliation. She had known this whole endeavour was a bad idea, that there was no point in trying to get over this hang-up. She heard the chair wheel softly across the carpet. Laura's long, toned legs came into view.

"Sara, it's okay," she said, placing a hand gently on Sara's shoulder, squeezing it slightly, "it's really fine."

Sara just stared at the floor.

"Look at me, Sara," Laura said in a tone that reminded Sara too much of her own mother to ignore. She looked up slowly. Laura had a smile on her lips, and concern in her eyes. "I'm not upset. You're allowed to look. You're allowed to feel." Sara wasn't quite sure what she meant by that. "This is what you're here for, right?"

"Yeah." Sara said in the most quiet, mouse-like voice she could squeak out. Her throat felt tight and she could barely breathe.

Laura reached across to the table next to the sofa and passed a box of tissues to her. She took it. She still felt like crying, but wasn't sure if it was going to happen.

"I'm not mad at you, and you shouldn't be mad at yourself. This is normal." The more Laura spoke, the more Sara began to believe it actually was okay. Laura wheeled a step further back in her chair and grabbed her pen and pad off the desk behind her, writing a quick note then laying it on her lap. "Let's talk about something else right now. Can we talk about your physical condition?"

Sara absentmindedly squeezed the tissue box, crumpling a corner and bending the pristine cardboard. "I guess." she said, a little louder than before.

"Okay," Laura said pleasantly, "so if I understand correctly, you were born with two sets of genitals?"

"Yeah, uh, both. A vagina and a penis," she said, hitching a little on penis.

"And both function correctly, right?"

"Yup, yes," she said. She had had regular periods most of her life, so that was working properly. Her penis she was less sure of, but on the outside seemed to function as it was intended.

"What did your parents think about this?" Laura asked, pressing pen to paper, but holding steady.

Sara had to think about this for a moment. Her parents had both died what felt like ages ago. "Um, I don't think we talked about it much. My mom said that if I wanted to, I could have surgery, when I was old enough. But they died when I was pretty young, so that didn't happen."

Laura wrote as she spoke. "And you were adopted? Did your adoptive family know about it?"

"No," Sara replied, "they didn't know and I didn't tell them. I was lucky to have people who were willing to look after me, I didn't want them to think of me differently."

Laura looked a little sad at that. "So you hid it," she said, her voice soft.

"Yeah."

Laura nodded slowly. Sara felt the older woman's gaze pass through her, focusing on something far away. She spoke after a moment, "Does anyone in your personal life know?"

"No."

"That's a lot for one person to carry. I'm sorry you've had to struggle with this alone for so long."

Sara was sorry too. She said nothing.

"So why now? Why has this become more of an issue for you lately?" Laura asked, wheeling her chair a little closer.

"I don't know, I just..." Sara paused, "I don't have that many friends. I get lonely a lot. I want to be loved. But then I'll go out on a couple of dates with a guy, and it looks like it's going to get physical, and I get scared. I guess."

"That's understandable," Laura said, wheeling closer still. Sara could smell her perfume drifting the distance between them and it made her head spin. She was awake, and her body was back in her dreams, reacting to the delicate scent. She felt hot. Her cock was slowly coming to life again under Laura's influence. She pressed her knees together tighter, holding it down. Laura stood, and before Sara could speak or move away, was seated next to her on the couch. The large leather sofa sank towards Laura, and Sara was suddenly leaning into her. Sara felt positively diminutive under such close comparison. She had thought Laura was mostly legs, but even seated she was nearly a full head taller than Sara. She felt the heat rising still, now radiating from where Laura pressed up against her at her hips and shoulder.

"I know it doesn't really help just to hear it, but you don't have to be scared, Sara," she said softly, "no matter who you are, there are people out there who will love you, and people out there who won't. It's about finding the ones who will."

That's probably true, Sara thought somewhat sullenly. Truthfully, she hadn't really gone out of her way to make a lot of friends or meet people. Just people she had chit-chatted with at work, and the odd anticlimactic Tinder date.

"Maybe I should just go join a sex club or something," she said, turning a little redder in the face. Laura leaned back and laughed, a high lilting giggle that made Sara flinch with the sudden activity.

"Well you don't have to go that far if you don't want to, but I know you'd find people there who would absolutely love you," Laura said smiling broadly.

Wait, is that a real thing? Sara wondered idly but was interrupted before she could ask.

"All I'm saying is that a good first step would be to learn to love yourself. Not that that's a simple task, certainly, but it's important."

"Love myself," Sara murmured, "like with the toys you gave me?" She turned beet red. She didn't know why she said that. Something about the interaction of Laura's perfume and her physical contact made Sara feel giddy and drunk. Her breathing was shallow, and all she could focus on was the electric connection where she and Laura touched. She could tell she was fully hard, her erect cock pushing up against the underside of her legs. A voice from a very small, very far away place was telling her she needed to relieve this pressure she felt immediately, but common sense and embarrassment still had the reins, thankfully.

"Oh, you're just full of jokes today, aren't you?" Laura said and laughed again. It was musical, joyous and free. Sara longed to feel that freedom. "That's good," she continued, "you should be comfortable here."

Sara nodded. She did feel comfortable here. It was only her second time, but she already felt like she was home. Or maybe that was just Laura's influence on her. Laura laid on delicate hand on Sara's knee, and a cold bolt of lightning raced from the point of contact to her spine, riding a nerve impulse and covering her whole body in the icy tingle of adrenaline. She was so close. Laura gripped her knee lightly.

"The first part of loving yourself comes with not being scared of yourself, Sara," Laura said. Sara felt dizzy. The smell of Laura's perfume was so strong, overpowering her senses. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she did her level best not to shake from the nerves. "If you're comfortable here, you should try to relax and be yourself. There's no one here to pretend for." Laura's words buzzed in her ear, taking on a quality like hypnotist's patter. Her dizziness had changed from fast, sharp circles to slow, looping waves, borne on the ocean of Laura's voice.

Gently, almost imperceptibly, Laura applied the smallest amount of pressure to Sara's knee, imploring it to relax its magnetic attraction to its partner and seperate. At a glacial pace, it uneasily agreed, and Sara could only watch as the distance between her legs widened, a millimetre, a centimetre, two. She held her breath, unable to think straight. A very large part of her shouted that she should stop this, should turn and run out of the office and never come back. A small and quiet part told her that she wanted to get better, no matter how scared she was. For whatever reason, the smaller, quieter part won out, allowing her legs to part, feeling the pressure below rising ever higher. Her cock slid upwards, searching of its own will for freedom. It brushed against her inner thighs, hot as a blast furnace and just as hard.

The gap widened more, and more. Sara felt it before she saw it happen, her legs parted far enough to free her companion. Her cock swung upwards excitedly, waggling cartoonishly at the apex of its release before drawing still, finally in relative freedom, tenting her skirt above-level with the top of her thighs. All 11.5 inches of her fully-erect cock, dark fabric draped over its length, for Laura to see. Sara sat in a stunned silence, staring at her member. Laura stared too, saying nothing. Then Sara felt Laura shift, and an arm lay across her back, gripping her outside shoulder, pulling her in gently.

"You see?" Laura said softly, not wanting to violate the awkward peace of the moment, "Nothing bad happened. You're here with someone, being yourself, and nothing bad happened, Sara. There's nothing to be scared of now."

The tears finally came. Unashamedly, and uncontrollable, first in glittering drops that fell softly onto her skirt, then in streams running down her cheeks, soaking the front of her t-shirt. Sara could hardly breathe, her throat tightening, gasping and heaving for air. She let out a soft moan of sadness and frustration, unable to restrain the sudden onslaught of feelings. Laura stroked Sara's hair, cooing sweet nothings of support and platitudes. She pulled her in for a sideways hug, pressing Sara's head into her chest. Through the sobbing and delirious storm of emotion, she felt Laura's warm, soft breast beneath her cheek, and the smell of her perfume, so strong and irresistible. It was all Sara could do to stay upright, wrapping her arms around Laura's waist and holding on tight.

After a few minutes, the deluge began to slow, allowing Sara something resembling composure. Rivers of tears settled into tiny, occasionally refreshed rivulets, and her breathing slowed enough to be caught. She relaxed her grip on Laura and sat upright, reaching for the tissue box that had fallen to the floor in the commotion. As she wiped her eyes and blew her now-stuffed nose, she felt something new. She felt empty inside, hollow in a good way. She was a pot full of her own fear and self-doubt, only she hadn't known she was full up until Laura tipped her over and spilled it out in front of her. It was still in there, the anxiety, the self-loathing, the sadness, but she could feel that there was a little more room for happiness, and love. She didn't know how she was going to find it, but there was potential now.

"I'm sorry," Sara said as she blew her nose in a loud honk, then giggled, despite the tears that still crept up upon her, "I don't know what happened. I'm sorry."

Laura removed her arm from Sara's shoulder and placed it on her knee. "It's okay, Sara, there's been so much for you to deal with, sometimes you have to face it head-on. You're allowed to cry, it's good for you."

The last point felt particularly salient. She did feel better. Catharsis, she thought it was called.

"I know. Thank you." she said quietly.

Laura squeezed her knee twice, "It's my pleasure," she said warmly, then removed her hand, folding them together. "We're about out of time, unfortunately, but if you'd like to come back next week I'd be happy to see you again."

The tears had finally stopped entirely. Sara nodded, "I'd like to come back again. If it's okay." She felt like she had to ask for permission somehow, even though she'd already been invited. Laura made her feel so timid and almost desperate for approval. She surreptitiously adjusted her panties through her skirt, tucking her once-again soft cock into her panties.

"Of course, dear," Laura said, smiling broadly.

Sara stood up on shaky legs and walked across the office to what she thought was the private exit. She turned the knob and pushed the door open slightly. Beyond the door was darkness, and cool air rushed out to meet her. Suddenly, Laura was behind her, her hand over Sara's, pulling the door shut.

"It's the other door, Sara," she said, soft but firm.

Sara looked to her right. Of course, she mentally chastised herself, it's the one on the right. Dumbass.

"Sorry, sorry!" she said, scurrying to the correct door. She quickly opened it and found the fluorescent-lit bare cement hallway she had expected. She took one step out when a rogue thought flitted across her consciousness. She turned around to find Laura leaning up against her desk, watching her go.

"Yes Sara?"

"Oh, uh, I just thought I should ask, uh," she stammered, "what's the name of the perfume you're wearing? It smells so lovely, I thought I might get some for myself. If you don't mind." she added quickly.

Laura cocked her head ever so slightly to one side and furrowed her brow, the tint of confusion on her beautiful face.

"I don't wear any perfume, dear."

Sara felt herself flush.

"Oh, my mistake, sorry!" she called back as she zipped through the doorway, pulling the door shut behind her.

Okay so she just smells like that then? Fucking hell, she thought as she hurried down the hall to the emergency staircase, throwing her whole body against the door at the bottom, rushing out into a surprise summer rain. On the street, people were running for cover, apparently also caught unaware. As the door slammed shut behind her, Sara stepped out beneath an awning right into the rain, savouring the cool droplets against her overly-heated skin. She decided that the rain either wouldn't or couldn't dampen her mood right now. She felt good, but more importantly she felt alive, and connected to her life in a way she hadn't for quite a long time. It wasn't a long walk around the block, and she was determined to enjoy the sudden downpour.

By the time she found her car, her shirt and hair both clung tightly to her. She flopped down into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirror to get a good look at herself. She shrieked, her small scream morphing into a case of the giggles as she surveyed her reflection. Her hair was soaked through, and plastered against her skull like paper mache, her t-shirt and skirt were practically cling-wrap, and what little mascara she had put on this morning had thoroughly run, leaving dark smears beneath her eyes.