Fear Of Women

I’m a practicing psychologist in a large profession
office of psychologists, counselors, psychiatrists,
Internal medicine specialist Holistic practitioners,
massage therapists, and hypno-therapists. We have
inexpensive evening and weekend classes on yoga,
meditation, and other exotic therapies, we even have
a priest, a minister, and a rabbi that we can refer
people too. We seem to have all bases covered. But
every year we usually add one or two more therapists.

We pride ourselves on the fact that we are open minded
in the attempt to cure or at least comfort patients
going through difficult mental ordeals. Often my role
in taking care of patients seems to be triage. That is,
I talk to them, analyze them and then decide which type
treatment would benefit them the most. They may see me
several times in a long course of treatment here. I
don’t have much time to do therapy. But I do some
treatment on a weekly basis, just not as much as when I
had in my private practice downtown.

One after noon I was greeted by a patient named
Peaches. I sat in my office analyzing her statements.
What I concluded was that since she had several rounds
of drug therapy over the last 2 years for depression
and alienation, she might benefit from touch therapy,
modeling therapy, and perhaps hypnosis.

She also had counseling. So I decided to pair her with
a roll model for “Modeling therapy”. That is, she would
spend up to 3 hours a day 2x a week with an adult
counselor, usually a college student or a psychology
intern, both in and out of our facility. We needed to
reconfigure her negative thinking and show her how to
do things in a confident way, out in the real world of
shopping, doing chores around home, interaction with
potential friends. Peaches said this sounded
intriguing. For touch therapy I recommended therapeutic
massage twice a week (with aroma therapy).

This comprised a large part of touch therapy. But the
best was yet to come, and she didn’t even know it.

I asked her to wait while I ran to the Xerox room to
make copies of her report. I heard strange noises
coming out of the tiny 8′ x 8′ room. I pushed on the
slightly ajar door, and saw Ron and Tia necking. Her
skirt was hiked up, and I could see she wore no
panties, just stocking and a garter belt. He was
feeling up the globes of her ass.

Then he turned her that she was sprawled over the Xerox
machine. She was whining and mewling eager to be
serviced. I watched as his finger and played with her
bodily orifices and clit. I heard him unzip his slacks,
he turned sideways listening for footsteps, and it was
then I saw his massive prick, it was not only long, but
very, very thick. I much prefer a fat penis to an
overly long one.

I began to get wet and twitchy between the legs as he
turned to Tia — bent over the Xerox — and asked, “You
want it now baby?”

“Yes now Ron! Hurry before we get caught. I’m dying for
it, I cant wait any longer!”

He obliged her. His hand grabbed his cock and guided it
into her pussy opening while the other hand was playing
with her clit, and pinching nipples. She wiggled,
seeking an orgasm. “Ron hurry,” she implored, “someone
might walk in, the door doesn’t lock!”

Suddenly the beast was all the way inside her and
stroking in and out like an animal in heat. He had both
hands on her hips to help spear her even deeper.
In just a few moments they came in unison, panting, and
gasping for breath.

Tia pushed him off her and pulled down her skirt and
smoothed it. Ron put his penis back in his pants and
tucked his shirt in and they stood holding each other
for a moment, trying to control their breathing and
basking in the afterglow. This is when I took off.

I don’t like to get involved in the private business of
our staffers. Especially funny business.

I went up to floor 2 and made my copies.

Returning to Peaches, I suggested we try some hypnosis
this afternoon to plant suggestions in her subconscious
that might help her. Some call this, suggestion
therapy.

Peaches was a college freshman – 18 and not a virgin,
according to my questionnaire. She had volunteered that
she’d had intercourse only once with a boy in her
English class. He had even used a rubber without her
even having to nag him.

She said that they still have lunch sometimes, but
neither of them ever brought up trying it again.
Peaches said there were so many nice boys in her class,
she wanted to be “united as one” with each and every
one of them, life was so exciting she wanted to
experience them all. I of course told her it might not
be such a good idea and actually dangerous, then said.
“Don’t you have any female friends? You just named 5
male friends. What about other girls?”

Peaches replied, “Well, just my roommate Lollie we’re
pretty good friends, and then there’s the girl across
the hall. Some say she is bisexual, but I don’t believe
that. I only see mostly boys going in to her room. The
only girls I see go in there are the ones who ask her
to help with assignments.”

She made some nasty remarks about her mother and women
in general.

So finally I said, “You really don’t like women do
you?”

“No. I guess I don�t.”

I thought this might explain her urge toward
promiscuity. She needed to compliment her circle of
friends by having some female friends to balance things
out. I thought about what be best. Then I remembered an
exotic treatment that hadn’t been mentioned much in the
literature. It was nebulous as to legality, but if it
cured my patient, it was worth it.

I called the massage therapist and asked if she had any
openings. She did.

So the next session we had I said, “Peaches, I want you
to go down the hall to room 16 for a massage.”

She looked a bit uncomfortable, so I asked her what the
matter was.

“C-can I leave my socks and panties on? I’m shy.”

To which I replied, “I doubt it, but ask the therapist.
Her name is Jean. I’m going to give you a hypnosis
session afterwards and I want you to be completely
relaxed.”

Well, an hour went by, and sure enough, Jean did have
Peaches remove everything so she was completely nude.
But Peaches loved the massage and the beautiful scented
oils, and that made up for it.

Out went Jean, and in came me.

“How do you feel? I want you to look at that shiny
place on the ceiling and the sound of my voice will
make you feel even more relaxed than ever before. I did
a guided visualization, and told her subconscious:
women are nice, they care for you. Your mother cares
for you. And other positive things. Women are allies,
that sort of thing.

Now came the new therapy I wanted to try on her. I
pulled her down to the end of the massage bed and
removed the sheet from her lower half. With my fingers
I rubbed her tummy in big circles. Then I rubbed her
mound very gently, my finger delicately stroked her
clitoris and went all the way in her vagina. I parted
her legs and pulled back the labia and delicately went
down on her. Her little clit was straining out.

Giving her an orgasm would not be easy I know, but she
moaned and whimpered her satisfaction and approval,
still under hypnosis. I asked, “Does that feel good? Do
you like how you feel?

She eagerly nodded her head, eyes still closed, a smile
on her face.

I slowly turned her on her side and began working my
oily-slickened finger into her rectum, massaging her
internally behind the uterus, while flicking my tongue
over her throbbing clitoris until at last her body
stiffened and she writhed in orgasm. She softly cried
out her release.

My point in going down on her was to plant the
suggestion in her mind that women are nice and can make
you feel good and can take care of you and they aren’t
at all frightening, so you shouldn’t fear women. This
seemed to be one of her big hang-ups.

Letting her rest a bit, I covered her and then I called
her out of the trance. Jean came back to get Peaches up
and help her get dressed. I went back to my office and
charted worked on my file notes.

I have to admit that I was so horny from all I had seen
and done that day that I locked my door and rubbed
myself until I came, I had to be careful not to groan
out loud when my climax hit. Thinking about Peaches’
young tight body and how she’d gasped when I’d given
her orgasm, made mine all that much better.

It was just what I needed. I lay there for along time
savoring the feeling and the relaxation it brought
before I could get up. Then I heard a knock at the door
and knew Peaches was standing on the other side,
waiting for the rest of her therapy session.