Sexual Immersion Therapy
Chapter Thirty-Three
Still not a peep from Julia on Tuesday. The same with Rosita, which really did have me concerned. There had to be some flaw in my hypnotic hold over the woman, even with Ruoya’s rich uncle factored in. I read through all my notes on what I’d put into Rosita, and just couldn’t see any flaw on my part. So, what the hell was going on?
In the late morning, Gina brought some office mail into the inner sanctum, and it included a notice about The Movement Machine’s final performances of the season. The announcement was really like a small poster, and the image on one side of it had a way of warming my groin. On a glossy black background, the Movement Machine’s logo was a circle in the center, and fanning above that circle, somewhat like spokes on a wheel, were a pair of female dancer’s legs stretched taut with pointed toes. The legs changed color as they half-circled from left to right, creating a rainbow effect. The design was gorgeous because the legs were so gorgeous, and the legs were so gorgeous because they were Mira’s legs.
I ed what she’d said one time, that her body sold tickets. Also, her unexpected description of dance as being colored wavelengths that added up to white light. Here in my hand was a designer’s take on that concept—had Mira told them of her idea, and here it was as advertising?
I turned the distraction of multiple Mira legs upside-down on my desk, and managed to behave myself with my clients through the morning. But then Alma Andersen walked in for her appointment, and for better or worse, she sure was looking good.
With all of my exploits of the past week, it had slipped my mind that I had put it into Alma to start working-out vigorously while she continued to lose weight. And, with more of an immediate effect, to fantasize about me when she masturbated.
She was more attractively dressed than usual, in a mid-length skirt and open-toed heels, and a tightly fitting red pullover blouse, with a U-shaped neckline that showed a touch of cleavage. Her hair was looking extremely blonde, and had been pulled into two braids that came down over her collarbones, the ends teasing at the soft flesh of her bosom. There was color in her face, too, which was most likely from the sun. That, or the woman’s emotions were stirred up. Or, a real possibility after what I’d put into her during our last session, the color came from vibrating hormones.
“Here we are again,” she said, catlike in the way she arranged her ass in the clients’ chair in front of me. She had never before spoken first in a session, nor had she moved so sinuously, looking this fucking sexy.
“Alma, you know I like to begin with a general overview of how your week has gone. And this time… Something is very different. Or perhaps many things, beginning with your hair and the way you’re dressed. You look, well, stunning.”
I was not at all prepared for the arms-drawn-in sex-kitten shrug that was her response. Her boobs compressed and she crossed her legs, then she readjusted her posture so she was situated in a more casual way than ever before.
She leaned forward, which emphasized the little bit of cleavage she was showing today, and said, “This place has undergone some changes, too. Like your new secretary out there? Talk about stunning. She’s like a little Amazon!”
She smiled after saying that and I found myself delighting in the way her mouth broadened and her cheeks puffed out. I couldn’t help thinking that hers was a very Swedish face with a very Swedish smile, nature somehow deg her features to chase away anything cold. And maybe, judging from its broadness, that lovely mouth was also designed to swallow something large and warm.
Since we were no longer relating in our accustomed way, I decided to throw in another change-up, completely confident that she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, refuse.
“Alma, if you don’t mind, why don’t we begin with the relaxation technique today? I sense a different kind of tension in you, some sort of nervous energy, or… Over to the couch?”
She nodded and stood, and we made our way there. My cock was at half-mast inside my pants, which she might be able to notice if she looked for it. It didn’t seem like she did as she made a bit of a show of slowly removing her heels and arching her feet. In my estimation her smooth legs might be tied with her plush mouth as her best physical feature, and it looked like she believed the same thing.
She looked like Scandinavian sunshine as she stretched herself out on the couch. She was very quick to go under, and once I had her in the special state, I extracted the information I wanted.
“Alma, have you masturbated in the past week while fantasizing about Michael?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
A few seconds before she answered. “Nine.”
Nine times! I had expected only a fraction of that, because I hadn’t gone at her all that hard the week before.
Or had I? I closed my eyes and thought back. I’d directed her to keep to her diet, and also work-out ferociously. I’d also put in that it would feel like new nerve endings were growing in her clitoris when she got herself off.
That last one was probably giving her the most intense orgasms of her life all by itself, so I shouldn’t be surprised that she wanted repeat performances.
“Alma, do you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror when you masturbate?”
“Yes.”
Just as I’d instructed. “And this is where you fantasize about having sex with Michael?”
“Yes. And in Michael’s waiting room today.”
Well, well. That meant she’d fantasized having sex just a handful of minutes ago.
“Alma, is there a general theme when you fantasize about Michael? What do you do? Do you initiate sex? And where does it happen?”
It wasn’t right that I had asked so many questions all bunched together, but she answered smoothly.
“It’s soon. I’ve been working out so much, and I feel beautiful and sexy. I keep imagining having sex with Michael, and I gather my courage and follow him one evening when he leaves his office. I’m in my car and I tail him like in the movies, and I pretend to run into him by accident. We talk and I flirt, and I know he fancies me, even if he has to pretend he doesn’t. I kiss him and come on strong. I know what I’m doing and I give him head, and he’s amazed at how good I am. We go home to my place and he brings me off with his mouth, and he’s really good too, and what I feel… It’s like heaven.”
I sat back in my chair, not having been aware of how much I’d begun to lean forward as I listened. Her fantasy was straightforward enough, and it produced a ramrod cock. I stood to ease some of the pressure in my pants, and looked down at Alma, studying her features and curves.
I knew she was five-feet ten inches, which would make her the tallest woman I’d ever fucked. I would guess Alma’s breasts to be a D-cup, certainly nothing to sneeze at. I stared at their uplift and the smooth and the few inches of creamy flesh I could see, and the desire to see more was as thick as a swollen cock.
There was a whole lot of natural beauty here, even if she wasn’t quite a finished product. Because of the immersion technique’s power to help her lose weight, the woman had been getting better-looking with every session; it kind of reminded me of my very very first girlfriend, who’d just been coming into her beauty when we’d been dating, and it kept blowing me away how she’d be prettier and sexier every time I saw her.
My gaze kept returning to the lower half of Alma’s face, particularly her mouth. Such a lovely jawline and chin, and it really was a broad mouth. Because of what she’d said, I decided to ask her if she had deep-throated a penis before and she said yes. When I followed up with, “Do you feel like you have a special talent when it comes to sucking cocks?”, she answered that every man she’d ever had sex with—a fairly limited number, I knew—had told her that she gave the best blowjobs they’d ever had.
I could not stop grinning. Even though Alma’s sex life had been relatively quiet for the past several years, there was a version of her in there where she was the blonde and beautiful Scandinavian nurse who could give great head. I was well aware that the reality of being a nurse in a hospital bore no relation to any fetishized version; nurses generally wore scrubs, not uniforms that bore any relation to lingerie, and they worked their asses off, likely coming home most days with a sore back and aching feet.
But fuck it, hadn’t I turned Terri into a blow-job savant almost right before fucking with Alma’s mind? Their mouths were very different—Terri’s lips were more pillowy, and I would guess that if the two women were somehow compared side-by-side, it would be obvious that Alma’s mouth was overall a fair amount broader, or larger. She was a bigger girl overall, so it made sense that she’d have more room in there to swallow a grande portion of hard meat.
It might be easy to completely eliminate her gag reflex like I had with Terri… But better to see how good she was at giving head before I did anything to intervene. She might already be able to deep-throat me just fine.
I had to stifle a desire to laugh, ing that it had been when working with Alma previously that I had silently dubbed myself The Sculptor. Under my direction she was already beginning to sculpt herself, becoming more desirable every day. The beauty was there, and I was going to direct her to embrace her fantasies about me, and bring her talented mouth on.
The only thing I didn’t like about her fantasy was that the timing would be completely unpredictable. And so, taking the clay of her desires and shaping them to better suit me, I made it so she would have a realization right here in the office today that she didn’t need to continue seeing me for therapy. She had come to me seeking to be able to stick to weight-loss goals, and they were so firmly established now that she had even gone beyond them, with her total dedication towards shaping her body with exercise. The only reason she needed her therapist in her life was that she had totally fallen in-lust with him.
How lucky for her, then, that her soon-to-be ex-therapist exuded trustworthiness and kindness, while something about him hinted at secret carnal knowledge. Just fantasizing about Michael was increasing the sensitivity of her clitoris—how much further could that go if she and Michael finally became flesh and blood lovers?
Next, I put it into her that the pathway forward would work like this—she would discover that when she came back to consciousness, she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how badly she wanted to seduce Michael.
She wanted him right now, but she would make herself wait a little while longer. This was partly because she wanted to live out her fantasy of following him and “accidentally” running into him; even more important than that, though, she understood that she wasn’t yet worthy because she wasn’t quite worked-out enough. What every cell in her body wanted was to enhance her beauty and sex-appeal every single day, all for the purpose of being irresistible to Michael. Further shaping her body, improving her muscle-tone and physical stamina… That was how she created a pathway towards being worthy to fuck her former therapist.
Waiting to have sex with Michael would not be easy. Here in this office for the rest of her session, her pussy would literally ache with desire, her clitoris feeling like it wanted to drive her crazy with the need to rub up against some part of Michael. Even after leaving the building these feelings would persist, her desires growing the way some ocean waves grow and grow until they become towering perfect-storm monsters.
There was only way to hold herself together when the longing became that intense, that insistent—she would rededicate herself to becoming more fit and sexy, and after working out she could masturbate with images of having sex with Michael swimming in her head. When she did this after going above and beyond with her exercising, she would climax with stupendous force, like a little preview of how good it would eventually feel to get the real thing.
And then, when she felt sufficiently strong and beautiful, she would call or text Michael, suggesting that he meet her for coffee. If he turned down this coffee date for any reason at all, she would begin tailing his car from his office, even if that meant rearranging her schedule at the hospital. Because she had to fuck Michael; she just had to. She would ambush him just like in her fantasies and suck him off, giving him head in a way he would never forget. After that, she would do absolutely anything else that he wanted in bed.
As for the rest of the session today, none of her extreme sexual urges would be unsurprising because she had come into the office with a flirtatious air, already having fantasized about having sex with Michael. Feeling so horny would have her flirting shamelessly, and talking up her looks, and telling Michael of her plans to look even better. She would experience a rush of elevated lust every time she noticed Michael checking out the little bit of cleavage she was showing. She would feel her breasts yearning to be touched, her nipples hard and tingling, and somewhere along the line she would find a way to divulge that she had a talent for oral sex.
But there was more. Any time that she saw Michael licking his lips, it would feel like the neediness of her pussy and clitoris flared and increased by the second. And if Michael stood, and she saw any kind of bulge in his pants, the need to get herself off would feel like a holy mission from the gods. She would rush straight to her car and masturbate in there like a woman whose pussy had become possessed, coming ten times harder than any orgasm she’d ever experienced before, the blissful sensations lasting ten times as long.
I breathed in deeply, completely happy with the way I’d shaped the next twenty minutes and beyond. I could have left it right there, but decided to add: “Keep recalling Michael’s new receptionist’s physique. You called Michael’s receptionist a ‘little Amazon’ in an iring way, and you know deep down that Michael wants her in his office because he loves her curvy athletic look. You’re confidant that you have the genetics to build yourself up even further, while retaining your curves. You feel so lucky and so motivated, that you can be a taller and thicker Swedish version of Michael’s receptionist, that he will not be able to resist.”
That’s where I stopped before gradually bringing Alma back to consciousness. I retired to my desk as always and watched as she sat up and slipped her feet into her shoes.
Women walk differently when their pussy becomes an emergency zone of building need. When Alma approached my desk, there was seduction in every step, but also a couple of uncertain footfalls, like something was happening under her skirt that brought an element of uncertainty and wonderment.
“You fell asleep again,” I said. “But only for abut a minute.”
“I absolutely love your relaxation technique,” she replied as she poured into the client’s chair. “I think I had a dream, or… I’m not sure it was relaxing, either.”
“What do you mean?”
Either deliberately or by reflex, she licked her lips in an enticing way. “Maybe I’ll tell you later. For now, I guess I should get you caught-up on how my last week has gone. It’s been momentous. Maybe even transformational.”
Here she told me a somewhat sanitized version of much that I had just unearthed. As she learned from stepping onto scales and the fit of her clothes, plus seeing for herself in the mirror, that she had achieved her target weight, and this delighted her and made her feel more vibrant. She was getting complements from all over the place, co-workers and friends and even her mother in Sweden, whom she’d conversed with on Zoom. There were whistles from strangers on the street, which she used to get all the time, but not so many in recent years. This attention had caused what she called the “side-effect” of an increase in her libido.
I could have just kept listening, but I decided to engage at this point. I wanted to know if she would voluntarily talk about masturbation.
“Alma, what exactly does this mean, what you said about an increased libido? More dating, or thoughts in that direction? There was a co-worker hitting on you, right? Anything on that front?”
“He’s nothing; I don’t want to talk about him. It’s more like… Okay, here’s an example. In past summers, I’d be arranging airfare right about now to fly out west, to go hiking and spend some get-reacquainted time with my former boyfriend. But so far this year…”
“You’re no longer interested in that far away relationship?”
“It’s more that I have this craving for new relationships right here,” she responded, glancing around the room. She sat straighter and toyed with the end of her left braid, her hand making with the flesh at the top of her breast. I kept my eyes on her breasts for several seconds, and she noticed that.
“Whew! It’s hot in here today, right?” Inhaling conspicuously, she went on: “I want to start dating, or… No, that’s not quite honest. I’m ready for more sex. I’m, you know, horny these days.”
“Goes with better health,” I said, looking at the mounds of her breasts.
“I want to be really healthy, kind of like your new receptionist must be. I’ve hired a personal trainer, and I have my sights set on a real transformation of my body. She’s emphasized complete consistency for at least eight weeks, and I’ve committed to that. I’ve already experienced how being trimmer and also stronger helps me with my job; ER work can be physically demanding at times. I have specific goals now about becoming even more fit. I want… I want…”
No therapist could ever resist a moment like this. “What is it that you want, Alma? I think that deep inside of you, perhaps bubbling to the surface now, you know.”
It was no coincidence that her eyes lowered right then, aimed exactly where my groin was, although behind the obscuring desk. “Honestly, I want to make myself totally irresistible to any man I desire. Maybe that sounds like an ego trip, but I think of it more as…”
She waved a hand in the air, like trying to summon the correct wording. Her eyes were focused above me now; I thought she might be seeing sex with me on something like a movie screen of the mind.
“What’s needed to get what I want,” she concluded. “It’s not being vain to say that I was really hot in my college years, but then I got overweight. I’ve hated that, as you know; that bout with depression and its effects are what brought me here to begin with. You’ve helped so much and now I feel beautiful again. Not quite beautiful enough, yet…”
“No? I’d bet anything that lots of people would disagree with that assessment.”
She regarded me directly. “But would you say I’m irresistibly beautiful?”
I didn’t respond for a few seconds. Then I eased back in my chair, and licked my lips. “I’m a therapist, not a beauty contestant judge. But I definitely applaud your focus on this. It’s good to have achievable goals.”
Alma’s eyes were wide and she made a sound in her throat that I interpreted as a hanging-in-there grunt. Her legs weren’t keeping still, and her cheeks suddenly looked sunburned. “It’s more than focus!” she declared. “It more like a holy mission, a… Something I feel like I have to have or I’ll…”
Pop? I kept my demeanor as neutral as I could, wondering what those high-cheekbone features might look like when she did pop spectacularly.
Her shoulders moved, gathering herself. “Like I said, I’m sexy again and I feel really sexy. My libido lately has been… It’s a lot more. I feel like that right here, right now…”
I kept it simple, just a little nod. There was so much wet pussy in the air.
“I was so athletic in my late teens and early college,” she went on. “I was the power hitter in softball, and really good at soccer. And I was much more sexually active; it was easy to have lovers. Once again I’m getting close to being me again, the me who could turn heads or break hearts. It’s different now—I’m older and have a job I like, and I know I’m helpful to people, or even to society at large. I work hard and now I’m ready to play hard, too. Maybe, someday, that will be playing sports again, but right now…”
“Yes, that’s it. Speak about right now.”
“I’m determined to be even more beautiful than I was then, as beautiful and strong as I possibly can be. And this time I want to ride that beauty and play really hard, romantically.”
I licked my lips again, very slowly and deliberately. “By ‘romantically’, do you mean sexually?”
“Mmmm! Oh fuck I… Give me a second…” Her breathing changed, her eyes dreamy, and I could see in the set of her shoulders that the intensity was climbing inside her. Then, “Fuck yes, I mean sexually!”
“It sounds like—”
“I’m ready to make changes in my sex life? You bet I am. It isn’t ego or compensation or anything else when I say that I’m really good in bed; it’s just the facts. I’m especially great with my mouth. I always was.”
I nodded my understanding. “Fellatio. You’re saying that you have talents when it comes to…” And here I stopped, licking my lips again.
Alma immediately blew out air. “Fuck! I… Fuck!”
“Alma? Are you okay?” While silently wondering what would happen if I just kept licking my lips nonstop.
“I’m… Oh fuck, listen! I’m not your patient anymore, okay? This is my last session!”
“You’ve never been my patient; that’s the language of your field, not mine. You’ve been my client, and… Alma?”
I licked my lips again and she grunted out more heated breath as she rose up. She was only half in the chair now, a bit like a cat poised to pounce or leap away.
“Michael, I need you to hear me on this! I’m not your client anymore. This is it, our last session! I came to you feeling low and adrift, and you’ve… You’re so kind and trustworthy… But I have this mission now, and I know you’ll approve of it once you, we… I’m going to remake myself, improve myself, and it’s all because of you! You’ve helped me so much that I could kiss you!”
It was only a tiny portion of her ass in the chair now, her scent incredibly strong in the air. “Alma, if you feel like you don’t need any more appointments, or you just want to take a break…”
Her face was red, her eyes wide. She stood suddenly and strode sideways two paces, then pivoted and faced me. Her legs were looking tasty as hell already—what were they going to be like when I saw them next?
“You want to know what I want? Oh God, do you really want me to say what it is that I want?”
I put up a hand, gesturing for her to try to calm down. I licked my lips again and said, “Alma, let me—”
“Oh God!” she cried again, and those two words were drenched in saliva.
“Alma?” I questioned calmly, standing also, which was like raising the massive distortion in my pants as if it were a flag.
“Oh my God!”
I glanced down and pretended to be chagrined at having an erection. I didn’t even know if she noticed my play-acting, because she had already turned her back to me, quick-stepping towards the door. An uninformed person might have thought she was outraged or disgusted at seeing how her therapist had an obscene boner in his pants, but the words she flung my way over a retreating shoulder were the opposite of that.
“What I want is you and that, dammit!”
She was out of my office and then the outer office door, so fast it was like the age of a sudden dust devil. She left my door wide open and I expected papers to be flying everywhere, but there was nothing but calm in the room. As long as you didn’t count the hot throbbing in my pants.
I eased back into my chair, and a few seconds later Gina appeared in the doorway. Her head was tilted, eyebrows raised in the what-the-fuck position.
“I wonder if it was something I said,” I decided to go with. “Don’t bother scheduling Alma for next Tuesday—she made it clear that she won’t be coming back.”
Gina nodded, simultaneously surveying the entire office. Her nose went up; she was sniffing the scene. Alma’s pussy had practically been boiling at the end, and I couldn’t see them but there must be aromatic jet trails that she’d left in her wake.
I looked at the schedule on my desk, and said, “Give me a few extra minutes before you show Mr. Thorne in.”
Gina smiled, perhaps in a knowing way, then nodded and closed the door behind her. I got up and sprayed some air freshener all around the client’s chair and on towards the door, and as I did so I was smiling, too. I pictured Alma Andersen outside in her car, getting herself off with an intensity that might have her car’s tires lifting off the ground.
Just another ordinary day at the office for this runaway sexual immersion practitioner. But “ordinary” was about to be flipped on its head, along with my sense of what my life was all about and where it was going. There were changes of great significance blowing in from the north, and their harbinger called the very next day.