The Therapist

I went to see my therapist. I'm working on some meditation techniques. Anyway, the therapist asked about my day and for some reason I mentioned your email. We discussed your story (briefly, no details other than you occasionally stripped naked when at the doctor's office). She said it was ok if I wanted to strip down for my meditation sessions.

Ok! Her office is a quiet space with a comfortable sofa, large leather chair, candles, and pair of yoga mats on the floor. There is also a desk and bookshelves as a therapist office is likely to have, but those feel more like wall paper or decorations that mean little to nothing when in meditation.

I stripped down, putting my clothes on the back of the sofa. When I turned around, the therapist was holding out a blanket to me, "Here, put this on the sofa when you lie down."

"Oh, Ok. I can lay down on the yoga mat if you'd prefer."

"It's up to you," she said looking down at the mats. "I don't want you to be cold on the floor."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." I laid down flat on my back, legs straight, feet slightly apart, hands with fingers interlocked above my lower ribs. I focused on my breathing.

In a normal session, I lay out on the sofa, soft music plays in the background, while the therapist talks me through breathing and images from the leather chair. I hear her words, but I don't really pay attention to the location of her voice.

Today started much the same way, except I was on the floor, eyes shut, and naked. She asked me to focus on my breathing, then walked me through focusing on each aspect of my body, starting with the hair on my head. Again, I normally don't pay much attention to the music, but today I realized she has speakers in all four corners of the room and the music was rotating around in the speakers. It gave me the effect of spinning (which was really cool).

As her words focused on my chest, then hands, paying attention to the feeling of my fingers interlaced, and the slow rising and falling of my chest in rhythm with my breathing. Her voice was rotating around the room as well, only in the opposite direction of the music. Rather than give me the sense of spinning, which might have happened if they were both moving in the same direction, it gave me a sense of floating. I felt as if I was raising up off the floor.

She had turned on an area heater. I felt the warm air lightly caressing my skin.

The words of the therapist moved my focus to my legs, thighs, then calves, then feet. After the feet she had me push my sensations out the bottom of my feet, extend my awareness to the room. As I reached out through my feet, she asked me to unlace my fingers and reach my arms out to the side. Same as with the feet, the therapist asked me to extend my awareness out the tips of fingers to feel the room around me.

Normally, I don't talk, but after a few minutes of this, she asked me to describe the room. I spoke about the warm arm and the swirling colors, rather than the furniture. She asked, "Is there anything in the room with you?"

"No, your voice, and soft colors, blues and golds slowing floating over me."

"Just on you top?"

I thought for a moment, "No, all over, front, back, along my arms and legs, through my hair."

"Good. You say my voice is with you?"

"Yes."

"What does it look like?"

Initially, I pictured her face, but then she melted into a soft figure of a woman with skin of blue and gold. I tried to describe this to my therapist. As I did, I realized the woman was naked as I was and I felt my cock begin to grow. Slowly the room returned to the therapist's office with her sitting naked (albeit blue and gold) in her leather chair.

The awareness of my cock, slowly pulled my attention out of meditation. My therapist caught my loss of focus and pulled me back into the moment. "Listen to my voice. Focus on my voice. Let the colors, the music, and my voice float around you."

The room returned to swirls of color, her body floated about me. As she spoke I felt her voice touch my chest, my legs, my arms, my hair. Each place she mentions, the imaginary woman touched. Thinking back on it, she moved too quickly from one part to another for the imaginary woman to actually touch each part, and yet, she didn't seem to be moving fast. It was all very calm.

Eventually, my therapist moved her voice to discussing my cock. As her voice described my erection, I could feel the hands of the imaginary woman caressing it. She continued to speak, focusing my thoughts on the aroused state of my penis. The imaginary woman began sucking on my cock. Even though my breathing remain slow and even, I could feel myself building to an erection.

The therapist must have known I was about to cum. Her voice grew faster and more insistent with her descriptions. She asked, "Is the woman still there?"

"Yes."

"What is the woman doing?"

"She is straddling my hips and slowly sliding my cock between the folds of her vulva."

"What does that feel like?"

"Warm, soft, wet. I can feel her sliding up and down slowly. Oh!" I exclaim.

"Yes?"

"She just slid me into her. Oh, I... am... " and then I began ejaculating all over my stomach and chest. I could feel my stomach clinch and my hips buck as I slid deeper into the imaginary woman. Reflexively, I opened my eyes slightly to look up at the therapist standing with one foot on either side of my head, One hand holding her skirt up, while the other was finger her cunt. Seeing this made me cum even harder.

Her voice responded. "Good, you're cumming. Keep cumming. Cum for me." Her finger wiggling rapidly over her clit. I heard her muffle a squeak and then clinch her fingers at her bush. Even though it was fairly dark up her skirt, I could see she trimmed the hair on her vulva, but leaves a patch overtop.

She continued speaking for a while, bringing me back to calm meditation, as I closed my eyes again reveling in a massive orgasm.

At the end, she said, "Keep breathing in, then out, in, then out. Slowly bring your hands back and clasp them over your chest."

I could feel a stream of cum slide under my fingers as my hands returned to their starting position.

"Slowly open your eyes."

As I did, I realized she was no longer standing over me, but sitting in her chair. I looked over at her face and smiled.

"How was that?"

"Well," I said trying to add a modicum of embarrassment, "I never expected that to happen."

"Yes, well," she said grinning as she looked down at my now flaccid penis, "I don't very often get patients to orgasm during meditation, but it is relaxing."

"Yes, very!" I smiled back. I thought of her standing over me and could feel my cock give a slight twitch.

"During meditation, you mentioned a woman. Do you know her?"

"Yes and no. Initially she had your face and hair, but given it was your voice, that's understandable. But her skin was blue and gold."

"Body paint?"

"No, her skin was actually swirls of color."

"Interesting."

"And body type, like mine, or someone else you know?"

I closed my eyes to try and rekindled the image. "I think she has your shoulders and the same breasts, maybe slightly larger. I can't be sure. She was naked and I've only seen you with blouses on. Her hips her wide, much wider than yours."

"You have mentioned liking women with large hips. Go on."

"Her hands, her fingers were really long and soft, longer than normal hands, but it didn't feel freakish."

"What was she doing that made you orgasm?"

"Initially, she was sliding her vulva up and down my cock." I could feel my cock growing again. "But just before I came, she slid my cock inside her. The sensation was too much. That's when I came."

"Could you feel her, feel being inside her?"

"I could. She was warm and wet, very much like your cunt was when I looked up and saw you standing over me."

"What?" she somewhat exclaimed. I opened my eyes to see her staring at my face.

"It's ok." I slid a hand down my belly gathering some cum as I went and wrapped my fingers around my cock. I started to slide it down then back up, "The vision of you fingering yourself over me made me cum all the much harder. Just thinking about it is making me hard again. See?"

She looked down at my hand stoking my cock and squirmed in her seat. "I am sorry. That was unprofessional of me."

"I don't mind," I said, still stroking myself.

"No, I knew when you started to get an erection, you were likely to orgasm during meditation, but I know better than to let myself go."

"You came too." I could feel another orgasm building.

"Yes," she hesitated, still watching me masturbate.

After a moment of silence I asked, "Would you like to see me cum again?"

"Yes," this time with no hesitation. It a flash moment, I could sense her soaking her leather chair, aching to spread her legs and finger herself again. But then, the next moment, she stood up and turned away. "No, I'm sorry. I do, but I really shouldn't. If you want, if you need to, please go ahead, but I'll leave. Give you a moment."

"Oh, but..." I grunted about ready to cum. "I want to watch, too."

"No, I shouldn't." She stepped to the door and opened it. After she stepped out, she turned to close the door giving my hand, my cock one last look. That was enough for me and I started to cum again, much less explosive this time. Rather than streams up along my chest, this just oozed over my thumb onto my stomach.

She paused just long enough to see two spasms and then a long exhale. The door closed.

A few minutes later she returned with a dozen warm, wet paper towels. She handed them to me, "Here, so you can clean up before you get dressed."

I was slow getting dressed, letting the sensation of being naked in her office linger.

Once dressed I said, I'm not available for the next couple of weeks, but toward the end of February, we could have another session.

"Yes," she said sounding flustered. "Talk to the receptionist and set an appointment."

Before I opened the door, "Will I be able to continue to do sessions in the nude?"

She turned to look at me. "Yes, I should be able to maintain composer next time."

"Or not, it's fine with me." I smiled. "And remember, it's ok. Forgive yourself. You are allowed to be who you are," spouting one of the phrases she often says to me as I leave.

She smiled back.