A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing; When Predator Becomes Prey. (Quix & Xana)

Mr Quixotic · Nov 27, 2016

High School Teacher sentenced to sixty year's jail in sordid Schoolgirl sex case.

A High-School teacher who had repeated sexual relations with a student, has cried in the dock after being sentenced to sixty year's imprisonment.

Warren Trudeau, 37, had pleaded guilty to twelve counts of sexual penetration of a 16-year-old under his care, and not guilty to one count each of rape and deprivation of liberty, after having sex with the teenage girl on numerous occasions. A jury of his peers found him guilty on all counts.

Judge Peter Kidd, when handing down the sentence, said that it needed to be significant enough to deter others, particularly teachers, from engaging in such crimes.

"As the victim's teacher, you occupied a significant position of authority and trust in the community with respect to your students," Judge Kidd said. "The community is entitled to have confidence in the very significant trust placed in our teachers with our children."

Trudeau had given her his mobile phone number, telling her she could call him 24 hours a day, and they began text messaging each other. They began an emotional relationship, and later had sex at his marital home, hotels or his car on at least twelve occasions. He had picked up the teenager in his car, waited for her to change out of her school uniform and took her to his home, high-end hotels or restaurants.

Defence barrister Ian Hill, previously told the court Trudeau had been going through marital problems when he offended, and thought he was in love with her. The teacher had a "deluded fantasy" that he could maintain the relationship with the student. The Prosecution argued, that, when she attempted to end the relationship, he snapped, and, brutally raped her at knifepoint in his home, telling the victim, "If I can't have you, no-one else will", before she managed to escape, and call authorities.

The sixteen year old victim, whom the Judge praised as a "brave, decent, and honest young woman" for her testimony, will be provided with ongoing trauma counseling, paid for by the exclusive private school of which she remains a student. The school claimed to have had no knowledge of the incident.

Doctor Ellis McHugh threw the copy of The Times onto his desk, and sighed. A thirty-seven year old man, one year younger than he, and a sixteen year old girl? It was morally wrong by societal standards, but as a Psychologist, and a male, he could smypathise with the attraction to youth and beauty. But rape? What kind of psychosis and delusional mind would lead a man who, by all accounts was well-liked by his students, and had no prior history of violence, sexual assault, or criminal record, not even a parking ticket, to rape a teenager?

He guessed he'd never know, as that was now the concern of the prison system, and he was more worried about the damage being taken advantage of and sexually brutalised by a man employed to teach and protect her, had done to a sixteen year old girl. A brave young woman indeed, able to remain strong in the face of the Defence Attorney's attempt to shift the blame to her - it was that, when he'd read the court transcripts, which had sickened him above all else -, but was she strong enough not to allow it to ruin the rest of her life. Even with his professional help.

Emily Harris, her name was, although it had been suppressed at the trial, and she was his next client, hence McHugh's access to the details. As the son-in-law of a prominent supreme-court judge, Ellis was at the top of the list for court-ordered referrals. When the intercom buzzed in the plush office attached to his palatial home, the six-foot, one-inch tall Doctor, smoothed down a mop of sandy-brown hair, adjusted his spectacles, and slipped the newspaper article into the top drawer of his desk. "Send her in."

After he released the intercom button, McHugh relaxed his lanky frame in the leather chair, planted a benign expression on his friendly, open face, and raised a pair of blue eyes to watch the colourful fish swim around in the glass-walled aquarium that separated his counseling suite from reception, allowing for patient privacy. Uncertain of what to expect in regards to Emily's emotional state, or willingness to talk of the trauma she'd endured, he wanted to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Xanaphia · Nov 30, 2016

Emily Harris killed some time in the waiting room, pulling out her compact to reapply her lip gloss. The face that stared back could have been in a magazine. High cheekbones, pouty lips, big blue eyes. A similar one had been seen in magazines about 25 years back, when her mother had been a successful model. Before she aged out of the profession at 30. Before she found a new occupation as a trophy wife to a successful hedge fund manager. Both were very happy, as they got exactly what they wanted. He got the companionship of a beautiful younger woman, and she got to live a life of wealth and comfort. What could possibly be a better model for successful romantic relationships than that?

“He’ll see you now,” The receptionist affirmed with a friendly, almost plastic smile. Pity, Emily decided. Pity for the poor teen-aged girl who had to see a shrink. But she had to be here, especially after her father threatened to sue the school into bankruptcy for what they let happen to his little girl. Much of the same fight he would have put up if a valet dinged his Porche. She was an extension of him, and she had been damaged, so someone was sure as hell going to pay. A lifetime of counseling with the most renowned psychiatrist in the state was a small price to pay.

Standing, she smoothed the skirt of her uniform. Even though met the strict dress code of her private school, at 5’9”, it seemed scandalously short, her long, lean legs seeming to go on forever. Her white button up top was tucked in, emphasizing that tiny waist. She had come straight from school, but she could have come from a porn shoot, the modest uniform sexualizing her beyond expectations. She nodded to the receptionist, flashing a mimicry of that faked smile, before entering.

Dr. McHugh’s office was much like she would have expected, given her frame of reference of movie and tv shows. A room filled with books and a large wooden desk. Rosewood, she surmised, comparing it to the fine dining table her father owned. A leather swivel chair was parked before it, and a large leather couch sat opposite from that. It was rather monotonous in its predictable understated elegance.

What was interesting was Dr. McHugh. Tall and lean, and even a bit handsome, for an older guy. Already she was imagining him standing over her as she was bent over his desk, pounding her. Oh yes, she would have him. A far more interesting challenge than a well liked English teacher. And from the way he looked at her, she already had an angle in mind. Poor little broken girl, who just wants to be put back together. Who just needs the strong touch of an older, wiser, (rich) man. He seemed like the sort of guy who could be arrogant enough to believe his cock possessed the power to heal her broken psyche.

“So, I’ve never done this before. Should I lie down on my back, or is it better like this?” She asked, the words so familiar as they spilled from her lips. She decided up sitting erect across from him, legs crossed and her hands resting on her bare knees. The subtle pose had her arms squeezing her breasts together. Leaning forward ever so slighty, she gave the appearance of looking up at him, biting at her lower lip before asking “Where should I start?”

Mr Quixotic · Dec 4, 2016

Would the young woman be shy and demure, hesitant to approach him, and scared to talk openly about what she'd endured? Ellis had poured over the trial transcripts relating her evidence against the accused, but they'd been dry, unemotional words on a page, and given no hint of Emily's tone or demeanour. If anything, Ellis guessed, she'd be scared and uncertain, particularly in conversing with a man the same age as her abuser. Which is why the man's eyes widened in surprise when they followed her entrance into his office. Shy, demure, or lacking in confidence wasn't his instinctive first impression.

"Emily Harris, I presume, I'm Dr McHugh." Ellis immediately recognised what Warren Trudea must have seen in her, and the effects she could have on an older man. Emily's features were youthful and fresh, those of a model, and the body visible under a School Uniform shorter and tighter than expected to be standard issue for a prestigious, and expensive, Private School, curved to perfection in all the right places. She walked in, every inch the male fantasy so regularly offered up in porn movies, but much more attractive. And, at sixteen years old, the real deal.

Pushing those thoughts aside, McHugh shrugged nonchalantly at her question. "Wherever you're most comfortable." The request as if to whether she should lay on her back, and the implications associated with it, hadn't gone unnoticed, but Ellis deliberately didn't react. She'd been in his company less than a minute, and the Doctor already had a strange feeling about her, which was only exacerbated when she sat in the seat across. Thankfully close enough so that he couldn't peer over the edge, and be distracted by the silky thighs he'd already gained a glimpse of, due to the brevity of her skirt. The way she pressed her breasts together provided potential distraction enough. Purposely?

Oh, yes, definitely purposely. Ellis lowered his gaze to her cleavage, deciding to play back. After allowing his eyes to linger for a few seconds, he pursed his lips, and returned his attention to the young woman's face. Emily Harris radiated sexuality, and her demeanour was a little off, as if she was attempting to bait him. But, then, that wouldn't be completely out of the ordinary after what had happened with Trudea, where she'd been subject to the man's perverted desires, and treated as a sexual object.

She'd likely come to think of herself that way, or had learned to use it as a shield to hide her true emotions. What sixteen year old girl wouldn't be embarrassed about what had happened, even if it wasn't her fault, and subsequently, once it was over, possibly be led into misguided attempts to appear more mature, and in control? Ellis was confident that, with his experience, though not so much with the teenage female mind, he could break down her defences.

The psychologist continued to appraise his client for a little longer, as he poured Emily a glass of water, speaking after he placed it in front of her. "At the beginning, with how it all began, if you like. Or we can work back from the end. Maybe that's the place to start?" Eliis arched a brow. "I presume you must possess feelings of guilt for the role you played in having a man who you likely at one time had strong emotions for, jailed for sixty years? Do you, Emily, or are you glad the predator is locked away, where he'll never be able to hurt you again? Or do you think it was somehow all your fault, that you led him on, and deserved it, even the rape?

Raising an eyebrow before glancing at her cleavage again, Ellis shot Emily a cheery smile when he looked back up. "To be able to help you, I need to know where your mind is at, so I'm sorry if that's blunt, but I am not one for moddycoddling, and intend to treat you as an adult. In return, I expect the same, and for you to be honest. No games, no pretences. It almost means you can cease with the juvenile display of your tits. Warren Trudeau may have taught you that's how you should act, but I'm not interested. There's a reason he's in jail."

Having exerted his control, and clearly laid out the ground rules to his client, Ellis relaxed in his chair, and nodded for her to speak. "Everything you say is confidential, and won't be relayed to a soul, not even your parents, so go right ahead. You're here to talk, I'm here to listen"

Xanaphia · Dec 20, 2016

Session 1

He saw through her act. Well, what was a psychiatrist but an expert in human behavior? Dr McHugh would be a far greater challenge. And all the more satisfying for it. For him to see what was happening, and still fall head first into her web. For him to be powerless to his base urges, despite his intellect.

Still, this meant she had to switch gears. Teen aged sexpot wasn’t going to work with him. Time to try the broken girl. “Guilty? For getting him arrested, and sent to jail?” Emily started, brushing a few strands behind her ear, “Should I feel guilty? Everyone liked him, and I ruined his life…” She wiped her eyes, not at any risk of actually watering up, but it sold the narrative she wanted. She could summon tears, if needed, but now wasn’t the time. Not yet.

Instead she moved to detailing how the torrid affair, “It started off with tutoring. Working on my essay skills for the advanced placement exam. We spent hours together after school, with him going over my writing with a fine toothed comb. Finding every last place I could improve. When our sessions stretched until 5, 6, 7 o’clock at night, it only made sense to get dinner. Together. He made me dinner at his home, once, when his wife was out of town. Coq au Vin. Then we were talking, and laughing, and it didn’t feel like I was his student. It didn’t feel like there was more than 20 years between us.

“We were discussing poetry, and it was absolutely a scene out of a romance movie. Staring into each others eyes, he leaned forward, and I leaned forward, and then we were kissing. I thought he would stop, would pull back, would tell me it wasn’t appropriate. Instead his hand went under my shirt, cupping my breast.

“From there it all happened so quickly. I was a virgin, with rather limited experience with boys my own age. It all felt so good, even though I knew it was wrong. He was married, he was an adult, he was my teacher. But, he pulled my shirt over my head, and kissed his way down my neck, and shoulders. Then my bra was off and his lips were on my nipples. I should have said no, or stop, or something, but I just… I let him. “ She shifted on the couch, demonstrating her discomfort.

“We had sex on the couch. Didn’t even move to the bed. He just fucked me into the cushions, pumping in and out in and out. No words, just moans and sighs. One moment He was cumming inside me, and the next he was letting me use his shower, before driving me home. We didn’t talk about it. I thought it was over and done with. But it became so much more. I liked it. I liked the way it felt, I liked the way he felt inside me, and the way he made me feel. Like I was so mature, so special.”

Mr Quixotic · Dec 27, 2016

After making it abundantly clear who controlled the sessions, McHugh relaxed back in his seat, and awaited the young woman's reaction to his curtness. Or, he appeared to relax, for truth be told, from the moment she'd stepped into his office with her youthful model looks, attired in the school uniform, the Psychiatrist sensed he might be out of his depth.

Not a sex-therapist, child psychologist or a trained rape counselor, Ellis was accustomed to treating adults, mostly the rich, with diagnosed medical disorders and first-world problems. Occasionally it'd be single mothers, social security recipients, and drug dependents, referred from the courts, however the majority of those didn't require treatment as such, but simply had to attend a certain number of sessions to avoid jail time. He'd never counselled a teenager, but when the call came through, he'd accepted without pause. How hard could it be?

With the image of Emily's perky breasts straining the fabric of her top, he realised he was about to find out, and attempted to swipe away a flash of sympathy for Warren Trudeau. After all, men were attracted to youth and beauty, both of which his client possessed in spades, and a thirty-seven year old man and sixteen year old girl sleeping together was perfectly legal in many countries across the globe. Being sexually aroused by a young woman in the bloom of her late adolescence was a biological fact of life, and completely normal, for males of all ages.

In fact, so much so, that Ephebophilia, or the sexual attraction to girls aged fifteen to nineteen, unlike it's perverted cousins, wasn't considered an illness or disorder, and, as such, wasn't not listed in the DSM-5; the bible of psychiatric and mental health conditions. It was why 'Teen porn' forever remained amongst the top most searched terms on Google, and why even a well-respected Doctor like Ellis McHugh had no compunction in regularly visiting the recommended websites returned by that search query, for self-gratification.

Those thoughts flowed unbidden through, however, when she responded to his invitation to talk, he reminded himself that, although he viewed nothing inherently wrong with a man being sexually aroused by a sixteen year old girl in theory, using the advantage of position, and coercion, was certainly immoral. Not to mention rape, which no woman should ever be subjected to. As Emily further revealed the details of what had occurred, the man remained silent, simply nodding now and then in empathy at the all too familiar story.

Simultaneously, without Ellis being consciously aware, his gaze followed the path of the hands of the man who'd abused her, drifting over Emily's top when she mentioned it, eyes lingering momentarily on each button, then lower, to what of the skirt he could see from his side of the desk, as she continued. Only when he became cognisant that he'd been about to ask if she'd been wearing the exact same school uniform then, as she was now, did he cough to clear his throat, and jerk his head back up. Just in time to watch her lips move and hear how Trudea had pumped Emily on the sofa, and cum inside her.

Shit. McHugh's stomach dropped due to a brief fit of guilt-induced nausea, as the recognition of his subconscious actions and thoughts conflicted against the recollection of the brief glimpse of tears in Emily's eyes from moments before, and her current demeanour, which only served to remind him of her true age, and pain she'd endured. "It's okay, Emily." Soothing his dry throat with a sip of his water, the Doctor slipped back into his professional, calming, monotone voice, and maintained focus on her face. "It's all over now. What he did, is called grooming. Predators are expert at it; they select a vulnerable target, and seduce and draw them in, make them believe that it's all real, that their victim is special, and no-one else could understand them, as they do. Sexual pleasure is used as a weapon."

Strange for a man of his maturity, amid a concerted effort to treat the sixteen-year old as just another patient requiring his expert help, that he'd averted his gaze when speaking of sexual pleasure; a vision having come to him of Emily Harris, shirt unbuttoned, and perky tits hanging free, bent over his desk, crying out in ecstasy as, with her school skirt hiked over her waist, he rammed her tight, teen pussy from behind. Remorse, this time, came accompanied by a slight sense of shame, as he quickly glanced up at the clock, wondering how long the session had to go, and if he could pass this particular client onto a colleague, before he dared look at her again, "What about personal guilt; are you haunted about what you could have done differently, or how you should have stopped it?"

Changing the subject to safer ground, McHugh raised a brow. "Don't be. What I'd like to get clear in your mind is that, whilst what occurred was wrong, you did nothing wrong. It was your teacher, a man twice your age. His acts should not be your burden to bear. Unfortunately, as attractive as you are, there'll likely always be men of his ilk hovering around, so you have to become confident with that fact that you don't need to make yourself sexually available to be deserving of love and attention, or to be special. At the same time, I don't you want to believe that there's anything shameful about sex, and the acts he manipulated you into performing. Life is a learning experience, and it's why we have the laws we do. First, to try to ensure this doesn't happen to vulnerable young women, and if that fails, which I'm sorry to say it did in this case, to punish men like Warren Trudeau."

Xanaphia · Jan 18, 2017

He was nervous. Uncomfortable. Why? Because her words had awoken something in him? Awoken a sympathy for poor Warren Trudeau, lured into deviant wild sex with a teen? He didn’t want to look at her, needed distractions. Perhaps this was working. She was conscious of her expression, careful not to smile as Dr. Ellis McHugh proved himself very much a man. At least he had the decency to be ashamed for leering at her. Trying so hard not to.

“Grooming?” She murmured, as if it were the first time she had heard the concept. The idea of testing your victim, of subtly pushing boundaries and limits until the target opens and lay forth their vulnerabilities. She let him talk, let him explain. Placating his ego. Older men loved to explain things to women. Young women especially. They were so worldly and wise, and the just adored sharing that wisdom. And she was just a teen aged girl, too dumb to know any better.

“I’ll admit, it does comfort me to hear you say that, doctor. I thought…I thought there was something wrong with me. Because, I enjoyed it. Enjoyed him. Enjoyed the things he did to me. I wanted it, wanted him to do those things to me. How could I want those things, when it was wrong? How could I enjoy it, when it was rape? But now I hear you say it was a weapon. It was a weapon. A weapon against my better sense, against my conscience, against my morals. How could something that felt good, be so bad? But emptiness followed each time we had sex, and there was only one thing that could fill my emptiness.”

There were the hints of tears again. A dumb teen aged girl, who let herself get used. She didn’t sob. It wasn’t time yet. She sniffled, and wiped her face, putting on a brave smile. An avalanche of pent up emotion under the surface, just waiting to escape. Just waiting for the right person, a special person, who could get her to open up. Who could fix her broken soul. Doctor were supposed to fix their patients, weren’t they? So she let him speak, let him fill in the quiet. Let him assure that she had no fault in this. Let him assuage the guilt she wasn’t capable of possessing. Thank God for that.

“A learning experience? What should I learn from this, Dr McHugh? That men will only ever see me as an object of lust. That men will project their fantasy on to me, as if that was my purpose? As if I had no inner life of my own? Am I just a collection of holes to be fucked, until I’ve aged out of my sexual prime?” She brushed blonde hair out of her face, meeting his eyes now. Forcing him to look at her, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“Do you really think it is possible for me to own my sexuality, after this? For me to have a healthy relationship with desire and passion? To learn to live with what I did, and what was done to me?”

There it was, a place for him to assure her that it would be okay. That she would heal, and all wounds healed with time. Plant the seeds that she would need help mending those wounds, the psychic injury left in her by Trudeau’s violation. Let them grow, bloom into something he could not deny as she continued to visit him, as she became dependent on his insight.

Mr Quixotic · Jan 23, 2017

Uncertainty lurked in Psychiatrist's consciousness, even when he returned to the safe ground of his profession, and attempted to pretend Emily was no more than another patient requiring his expert assistance. Imagining her as a sexual object, whilst simultaneously attempting to do that, was a mental conflict that wouldn't end well. However, despite his best efforts at assuming control, and trying to demonstrate the benefits of his greater knowledge, maturity and life-experience, an unbidden image of Emily, bent over, mouth open in pleasure, and firm, young tits bouncing as he ravaged her, continued to sear the backs of his eyeballs.

The occasion with Trudeau on the sofa had been her first time, and by the sounds of it, relatively gentle, but where else had they had sex, and what else had they done, and where? Had the man fucked her roughly, and owned her tight teen, cunt, was that what her words inferred, and what she'd enjoyed? Was that the cause of the tears in her eyes; the dichotomy between the pleasure that she'd received, and the knowledge that she'd been fooled by a predator?

When Emily uttered the word rape, McHugh shook his head, and almost found himself objecting that it hadn't been really, that were was a vast difference between statutory rape, and the real thing. However, he quickly clamped his jaw shut when he remembered that Emily had also been truly raped by force. He couldn't allow any sign to show of the belief that, in his own moral universe, the man couldn't be held fully accountable for any consensual acts that took place between them, and that it took two to tango. To do so would have been perfectly acceptable if Trudeau was his client, however, he wasn't. Emily Harris was.

Leaning forward in his seat, and placing his hands on the desk, McHugh cracked his knuckles, and absently picked up a pen, tapping it between his fingers, and forced his gaze to remain locked on her face. As she spoke in a tone that pierced his heart with its expression of pain, and tears glistened in her eyes, Ellis' sense of guilt increased. As did his discomfort at being locked, alone, in his office - the nearest person, his secretary, two rooms away, and under orders to never disturb him during consultations -, with a beautiful, sixteen year-old girl, attired in the uniform of every adult male's fantasy, discussing sex. All all he could think about was how the man had fucked her. "I'm sorry, Emily."

For what, he didn't explain, dropping the pen when she'd finished speaking, to open up his desk drawer, and pull out a box of tissues. "If you need to cry, go ahead." Pushing them over to her, the guilt elicited by his sexually fueled thoughts, combined with his sympathy for Emily, and he knew he'd admonish himself for the former once she'd departed. However, he didn't have time to worry about that now, for what she required at this moment was reassurance and guidance. "You need to learn, that whilst others may view you as a sexual object, you are more than that, and be able to identify those who don't have your best intentions at heart, or are only looking to take advantage of your youth and beauty."

The inherent contradiction between that statement, and how he'd been thinking of her, made the words stick in his throat, like cloth, before he managed to force them out. Exacerbated by the fact that the coarse manner in which she'd spoken of having her holes used had, with Ellis' gaze locked on her sweet, young mouth, pink of her tongue visible as it open and closed, caused the Doctor's thighs to remain pressed together under the desk. Scared she'd be able to read his mind, McHugh averted his gaze, reached for his water glass, and took a sip, along with a moment to compose himself. When he placed the glass back down, and dared meet his client's eyes again, the Doctor's hand trembled slightly, but his voice was strong. "Emily, you're attractive and intelligent, and regardless of what he did to you, your sexuality is your own. A bad experience, it was, but not because of the sex. You say you enjoyed it?"

Ellis raised a brow, and continued with a second rhetorical question. "Then, that enjoyment was you being in control of your sexuality, was it not? You're sixteen years old, growing into a woman, and it's only natural to be curious and want to experiment. Which means that with the right man." Eliis waved his hand in the hair. "Not the boys at school, because they will all just be after the same thing as Trudeau, but a man that you can connect with emotionally, and who is honest in his intentions, you'll be able to fully express your sexuality without abandon, and with every ounce of desire and passion you possess. You see, it's not the fucking that's at the root of your problems, and pain, but the lies, deceit and betrayal that led to it happening with the wrong man.

It didn't strike Mchugh that he continually referred to men in regards to sixteen-year-old girl, or that at some point, what he had to say next, she'd likely heard similar sentiments from Warren Trudeau. "The wounds are still fresh, but, in time, you'll regain your ability to trust. I promise, out there is a man who'll love you and cherish Emily Harris for who she is, who truly does understand and care for her." Ellis smiled. "When you find him, and you will, this entire episode with Warren Trudeau will be forgotten, a moment in history. I'm here to help you help you through that healing process, Emily, as long as it takes. I'm on your side."

Xanaphia · Feb 3, 2017

Dr. McHugh’s words were not lost on Emily, presenting an opening she could abuse. The right man. The right man with whom she could explore and experiment with her sexuality. With her desire, and her delight. Did he think it was him? Was he already imagining himself in that position, imagining himself in numerous positions with her, teaching her about passion and pleasure?

“I do hope you are right, Doctor. I hope…” She met his gaze now, eyes wide in practiced vulnerability, “I hope I can learn to let another man inside. I hope I can learn to trust again, to share my body and my bliss once more. I am sure if anyone can help me, it’s you.” She managed a smile now, shy and unsure, brushing back thick, luxurious strands of blonde hair. The naïve and eager waif of most men’s dreams.

“I look forward to doing this again.”

End of Session 1

As chief of staff for the mayor of San Fransisco, Beth McHugh often came home exhausted, and tonight was no exception. She could hardly put her phone down before it buzzed, another email from work. Another proposal that needed reviewing, another photo op for the Mayor to attend, another fundraiser to organize. She sighed as she slipped out of her heels, placing them neatly in the hall closet, before turning back to pick up her phone. Another email, another crisis averted, another silent victory.

She took her phone with her as she made her way into the kitchen, knowing she was never truly off duty. “Dinner smells just delightful, Yvette,” She called to the 50 year old Dominican domestic servant, as she poured a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

“Just five more minutes, missus Beth,” she explained, in her thick accent. She had worked for the couple nearly eight years, and by now her enunciation rarely got in the way of understanding.

“Good, just enough time for me to finish one more email, then. Is Ellis still in his office?”

“Oh yes. I haven’t seen Dr McHugh since lunch.”

Beth breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing that he was still working made her feel less guilty. It was why she and Ellis worked so well together. They were both dedicated to their careers, devoted to pursuit of greatness in their fields. It was how he had become the more prominent psychiatrist in the county. He lived in the limelight, much like her father, but she took a step back. She was the supportive wife, the back bone of the mayor’s office. The invisible woman, working around the clock to make sure everything went exactly to plan.

When Ellis joined her, she was already on the couch with a glass of wine. She managed a weary smile, always cautious of how much strain she projected towards him. After all, with all the things he heard and had to counsel patients through? He didn’t need her troubles and problems on top of that. “Yvette is just finishing dinner, braised steak with asparagus. How was work today, hun?”

Mr Quixotic · Feb 8, 2017

Throughout the afternoon sessions - thankfully only two remained after Emily Harris, - the image of the girl lingered. He could still vividly envisage her model features, the manner in which her perky young breasts strained the fabric of her shirt, her luscious blonde hair, smile, youth. and, oh god, that ass. The perfect, tight buttocks that flexed under the thin fabric of her uniform, and which his gaze never left until the office door had closed behind her.

When it had, Dr McHugh no longer attempted to stop the physical reaction Emily's presence elicited, but embraced it. With the teenager out of sight, he could, without guilt, push aside the memories of her anguished voice, and tear-filled eyes, and allow himself to fantasise. The Doctor moaned softly when he closed his eyes and gripped his erection, however, was swiftly forced to pull his hand away, and, with forced composure, respond to the buzz of the intercom that signaled the arrival of his next patient.

"Send him through."

Although McHugh's erection had abated by the time he'd completed the final afternoon session, a level of mental arousal remained, and he rushed into the house, hoping to gain a few minutes in his study alone in the company of TeenSweethearts.com. That intent was scuppered when he noticed Beth on the sofa, eliciting a sense of disappointment and brief flare of anger.

Not that he didn't love his wife, disliked her company, or that they weren't good for each other. They were, and she suited him perfectly; supportive, and career-orientated, just as he was. Without Beth, Ellis wouldn't have been able to achieve what he had, and the family connections he'd married into, had also granted him the societal status he'd always craved. However, after so many years, the marriage felt routine and stale, and Beth had never been the most adventurous sexually to begin with, which Ellis became more resentful of as time passed.

Their love life now down to nothing more exciting than perfunctory once-a-week missionary in bed, it was no wonder he found jacking off to websites more gratifying than making love to his life partner. What man wouldn't when you could witness eager teenagers more than willing to take it up the ass, or listen to them cheerfully encourage a man on to coat her face with his load. To his wife, Ellis wouldn't dare suggest either, and imagine the scene if he arrived home with a school-girl uniform for her to model for his benefit.

"Dinner will be served in five minutes, Mr McHugh."

Amid the throbbing of his cock telling him that it wasn't fair the he should have to wait for sexual release until his spouse had retired for the night, Ellis jumped at the sound of Yvette's voice, and swiveled his head. "You can leave now, we'll serve ourselves."

"But, Mr McHugh."

"Leave." Ellis's stern tone caused the woman's cheerful expression to fade, before she meekly acquiesced with a nod, and turned on her heels.

He didn't witness the latter, and barely heard the door close a moment later, for he'd locked his attention on Beth, Approaching his wife, she somehow appeared younger than usual, more attractive, alluring. Like when they'd first met. "Hey baby." Ellis un-knotted his tie as he dropped into the seat next to Beth, and threw an arm over her shoulder. "Tedious. A bunch of privileged assholes suffering first world afflictions; a mother addicted to sleeping pills, and a paranoid schizophrenic, hearing the voice of God instructing him to peep into the next door neighbours window. Sometimes I wonder why I bother." No mention of his teenage client.

McHugh smiled, and his palm drifted from Beth's shoulder to cup her breast, whilst he simultaneously leaned in to press his lips to her neck, and kissed up to her ear. He was married, he was an adult, he was my teacher. But, he pulled my shirt over my head, and kissed his way down my neck, and shoulders. Nibbling her lobe, Ellis slipped his fingers under her top, and glided his touch upwards. "I've sent the maid home, so it's just us. Why don't we forget about work, about dinner." Soon hefting one of his wife's tits in his palm, Then my bra was off and his lips were on my nipples, McHugh pinched the nipple through fabric, then reached around her back to locate the metal clasp of Beth's bra.

Fumbling to undo it, he continued to issue bites and nibbles to his wife's neck, and caught her eye. He just fucked me into the cushions, pumping in and out in and out. No words, just moans and sighs. One moment, he was cumming inside me, and the next he was letting me use his shower. "Because I'm in the mood to screw your brains out, right here, right now, on this sofa."

If Beth possessed any doubt about that, all she'd need do was glance at her husband's crotch, for, as Emily Harris' words reverberated in his thoughts, the good Doctor's raging hard-on threatened to burst the seams of his pants.

Xanaphia · Feb 16, 2017

Beth leaned into her husband’s embrace, appreciating that affection. A relaxing cuddle on the couch was just the perfect way to unwind from her long day, with no demands being placed on her, no expectations to live up to. Though, that hope was dashed as Ellis groped her, his hand on her breast and his lips against her ear and neck. Clearly he wanted something, wanted her. Even clearer as he made his proposal to her, to skip dinner and fuck on the couch. She was exhausted, and hungry, and all she wanted was to eat and sink into a long, hot bath. But her husband was feeling spontaneous, demonstrative, and how could she rightly turn him down?

“Really, here on the couch?” She teased, trying to get herself in the right state of mind to enjoy her husband. Pushing back against the stress of her day, the constant demands, even more demands as she came home. “Seems like a waste of our king sized bed and silken sheets.” She moved to return her husband’s kisses, hoping to get caught up in the lust he was feeling, hoping it would rub off on her. Maybe if she did this for him, she could convince him to run her a bath afterwards.

She unbuttoned her top as they kissed, his lips hungry on hers, a passion she just couldn’t reach right now. Oh, but she tried, tried to push everything from her mind by Ellis’ hands on her body, and his carnal demands. Each button seemed to take forever, the delicate blouse too nice to risk ruining. Finally her top was open, her husband’s hands already on her breasts, cupping and molding them with feral passion. “What has gotten into you?” She gasped, hardly able to recognize the man pawing at her. He was like a teenager, or at least, what she could only assume he must have been like as a teenager. She hadn’t known him then, hadn’t met him until her senior year of college.

On the coffee table, her phone buzzed. Who was calling now? No, now wasn’t the time to answer it. She was off duty! She was allowed to have a life outside the office! Still, she tensed as it vibrated, every fiber of her being wanting to answer it. She kissed her husband back, forcing herself to enjoy it, to block out the dull hum, to ignore the query it put upon her. Her fingers worked at his shirt now, trying to open it, trying and failing, too distracted by the phone and the concern and the way Ellis’ hand wouldn’t stop for one damn minute. Fuck it, she tugged at his pants, fiddling with the belt and opening the zipper. His cock sprung out, pulsing against her fingers, red and angry in need. She hesitated a moment before touching it, briefly concern he might blow his load then and there, leaving the coach stained. She’d have to call a cleaner company, to get over here before this weekend and—

Her phone buzzed again, seemingly more urgently this time. It was the same pattern, of course, but the second occurrence in so many minutes made it feel more intense. “I should pick it up, let them know I am busy,” she insisted, pulling away from her husband, “Otherwise they won’t stop calling.” Brushing a few loose strands behind her ear, she picked up.

“Tom, this really isn’t a good—“ she started, before giving her co worker a chance to speak. “She what? To a reporter? No.” She picked up the remote, holding her cell against her ear with her shoulder. Flipping through the channel until she hit the cable news channel, featuring a report of a possible ethics violation from governor’s press secretary. “Well of course the mayor is going to pursue legal action, we have his gubernatorial campaign to consider.” She stood now, the nervous energy of strategizing not sitting well with sitting. Only when her husband warmth was no longer pressed against her did she realize what she had done. “Tom, hold on a sec, okay.”

“Sorry love, but this is major. She just—“ Beth didn’t elaborate, just motioned towards the tv, “You understand, don’t you? I’ll make it up to your this weekend, I promise.”

Mr Quixotic · Feb 22, 2017

Although his head was consumed with the words and image of Emily Harris, the Doctor remained cognisant that the woman on the sofa was Beth, and she might find his enthusiastic advances unusual. However, he didn't care. There was nothing wrong with displaying affection for your wife, or desiring her so much that you couldn't wait until the 'scheduled' time to make love. Should she not view that as a compliment, and if it wasn't Beth igniting his passion, did that really matter? Wasn't it only natural for those in long-term relationships to fantasise about other men or women, and inconsequential as long as the recipient of those fantasies was the one you'd vowed to remain faithful to? Ellis would only ever stray on Beth in his imagination.

Or so he internally justified his actions as the breast he fondled became Emily Harris', as did the skin he grazed with his teeth, and the earlobe he nibbled. "Aren't I allowed to be spontaneous?" Ellis groaned as Beth unbuttoned her top, assuming that a sign of her own keenness. "Do I need a reason for wanting to fuck my wife's brains out?" Having unclasped her bra, he grasped one of her tits when they came free of her clothing, and took it in his mouth. His meat raging in his trousers, the man's hips bucked, and he emitted a loud groan, barely cognisant of the phone buzzing when she unzipped him. Emily's thin, inexperienced fingers touching, feeling, exploring his manhood, then wrapping around his shaft, McHugh slobbered on her breasts, and wrapped his lips around one of the teen's erect, pink nipples before she moved away and the fog cleared from his brain. "Don't."

The man attempted to grab her arm and pull Beth back, but before he could get a hold, she'd stood, and he sat up straight, cock glistening with pre-cum and chest heaving. When she covered the receiver and spoke to him directly, Ellis gritted his teeth and glared at his wife with lust-darkened eyes. She no longer bore any resemblance to Emily Harris, but was again Beth. The Beth who'd only consent to sex once a week, and whose work was obviously of greater importance to her than the needs of her husband. "Make it up to me?"

Anger saturated his tone as he stood, briefly gripping her arm to hiss, "I'll have my receptionist schedule an appointment. One hour, Saturday night. Let me know if something more pressing comes up, and you need to cancel," in her ear, before he strode from the room. Slamming the lounge-room door behind him, then the study's, ensuring he locked the latter behind him, Ellis didn't once look back. Certain that with the fury he'd displayed Beth would not dare to try to disturb him, it dissipated to be replaced with an air of anticipation and excitement when he switched on the desktop. Or maybe the fury had not been real at all, and simply a performance to ensure he possessed an excuse to remain locked away?

The girl was eighteen years old, pretty, brunette rather than blonde, and her uniform a different shade and pattern. However, to Ellis as she knelt on the sofa, skirt hiked up and white cotton panties tugged aside, revealing her glistening, pink slit, the hair changed colour and the skirt became Emily's. Grasping his hard on, he stroked slowly at first, then gradually faster as an older man fisted the girl's hair in his hand, and shoved her face down in the cushions. Her muffled screams of arousal were still audible as the male reddened her perfect ass with his palm, then slammed his thick erection inside the girl's tight, young cunt.

Ellis timed his strokes with the increasingly rough fucking of the uniformed school-girl, grunting and groaning, and attempted to hold off his climax. Eventually, when the male on screen rolled the panting and writhing young woman over onto her back, and ejaculated onto her eager, smiling face and firm, heaving tits, McHugh released a gasp of unadulterated pleasure. Hips thrashed and writhed as he shot like a fountain, staring deep into Emily Harris' eyes, her youthful features coated with his seed, and came as hard as he'd ever come in his life. The scene with Beth a forgotten issue that could until morning to be discussed, if spoken about at all.

Xanaphia · Mar 1, 2017

Session 2

“I have been having dreams about the things we did. The things Warren and I did,” Emily explained, after only a few minutes into her second session with doctor Ellis. She was dressed almost the same, in her typical school uniform, with knee high socks and black Mary Jane heels. Her hair was pulled into high pig tails, a style sometimes referred to in porn as “handlebars. Her look was the epitome of innocence on paper, and yet at the same time the mainstream uniform of “teen” porn stars. Perhaps because it exuded innocence, because what man didn’t get hard to the idea of corrupting an innocent? To take a woman who was clean or pure, and make her into the filthy whore of his dreams? She could have stopped at home, and changed, but the good doctor seemed to like this outfit on her. Perhaps next time should would, just to see if his reaction and interactions with her were any different.

“I keep going back to times spent in his classroom. He arranged for me to have independent study with him, before our affair started. Extra tutoring for my AP exams. Once we were sleeping together, though, we no longer spent that time studying.”

Emily shifted at that, crossing her legs, brushing her bangs back behind her head. “He would have me crawl under his desk and suck him off. I would be hidden under there, so even if someone came in, they wouldn’t see what we were doing. Under that desk, I learned what was expected of me. How I was to serve Warren’s pleasure, how he expected to use my mouth to that end. He was still my teacher, in a way, teaching me to suck cock, to deep throat, to swallow his cum. Because I certainly couldn’t get it on my face or in my hair, not while I was still in school.” She sighed, and shook her head. A performance of discomfort and shame. Oh, how could she fall vulnerable to such a predator…

“I kept it up because…I thought I loved him. I did love him, the way only a teenage girl can. Without any sense or care, consuming my entire being. I lived to serve him, to please him, to hear the hoarse whisper of my name drip from his lips as he reached climax. Now that everything is said and done I feel so…used. Empty. Needing something, someone to fill the void within me. So lonely. Will anyone ever understand me the way he did? Did he ever really understand me, or was it just an act to use me?” She looked up at Ellis now, biting her quivering lip to hold back the tears.

Mr Quixotic · Mar 8, 2017

Ellis's initial reaction when Emily Harris entered his office for the second time was one of almost relief that she once more wore her Uniform. After the incident with Beth, and subsequent self-gratification, any remorse or guilt that McHugh had experienced swiftly receded. Best just to admit he possessed a fetish for young women rather than deny it, and if that realisation had been crystalised in the form of one of his patients, so be it. Psychologists weren't immune to the biology and brain wiring of the rest of the male species.

He displayed no emotion as she sat across from him, even as he noted the change of hairstyle. Nor when he imagined gripping her by the pigtails and pulling her mouth down onto his meat under the desk, as she revealed having done with Trudeau. For all appearances, Ellis portrayed the sympathetic Doctor, nodding in all the right places, and encouraging Emily to continue. Internally, however, he wondered if it was only at school Trudeau had her swallow or she had each and every time no matter the location. Such a pity if he hadn't also gotten to witness the uniformed school-girl with a thick load of hot cum dripping off her face and sliding down her firm tits.

Not making any attempt to halt the erection that grew increasingly thicker and harder with the images her vivid descriptions brought to mind behind his placid blue eyes, McHugh subtly dropped his hand under the desk and gripped his cock through the fabric of his trousers. Slowly, he rubbed, imagining Emily Harris slipping out of the chair, lowering to all fours and crawling towards him, mouth open and pink tongue bared in anticipation of sucking him off. He remained careful to ensure his thoughts were not evident in his outward demeanour, so even he was surprised by the words that came out when she was done. Not ones particularly meant to help Emily overcome her mental demons. "It's okay."

Both hands now back on the desk, Ellis leaned forward, his empathetic expression more pretence than real. "I'm certain, in his own way, that Warren Trudeau did love and understand you, and the emotions you possessed for him, as you've said, were authentic and not a figment of the imagination. Maybe that's what the issue is, you still love him, or at least the idea of the fantasy he represented. A man who'd care for you, and derive as much enjoyment from witnessing the burgeoning of your sexuality and assisting your bloom into womanhood as he would from sex itself."

With the Psychiatrist's gaze locked on the teenager, his tone was akin to the metaphorical equivalent of a condescending pat of Emily's hand, a physical action he likely have taken if he'd been able to reach all the way across the wide desk. "Be honest with me. Leave out Trudeau, the teacher, and think about the concept, about what I've said. Was he really just using you? When you were on your knees with his cock in your mouth and he moaned your name in ecstasy, didn't it also make you feel like a woman, an equal? Was there not a sense of power and satisfaction in being able to bring such a vastly more experienced man pleasure?"

A man much like Ellis McHugh, although the Psychiatrist, still not fully aware of his own intent, didn't express that aloud as he subconsciously attempted to strum the naive sixteen year old's mind like a violin. "One who wanted you so much that he risked his entire reputation and marriage for the chance? Not many women will be fortunate enough to experience that degree of love and infatuation once in a lifetime, Emily, let alone at such a young age. Could it be that you truly miss; the desire and passion of a man who just needs to have you, damn the consequences, and it's not what happened, but the fact it no longer exists why you now feel so empty and sad?

Xanaphia · Mar 14, 2017

Emily closed her eyes, putting up an act of blinking back the tears. Biting her bottom, holding in the pain. Holding in the glee, in reality. It was working. McHugh was falling for it, falling into her web, ready to be trapped by her teenage charm and body. Oh, he was very subtle in the way he touched himself, discreetly under the desk. Was he imagining himself in Trudeau’s shoes? Imagining her under his desk now, swallowing his cock as she had been taught?

But he did have a job to do, and it wasn’t the one he was doing with his hand. So he comforted her, once more seeking to alleviate her guilt. But my, weren’t the things he said interesting? How sucking her teacher off might make her feel like a woman, an equal. That being the object of obsession for an older man was intoxicating. That a young woman might get addicted to that power. Oh, the good doctor was so close! So very close, not that he’d be able to see it until it was too late.

“And what if I do miss that, Doctor? What if I do miss the desire, the passion, miss knowing that I was what he wanted? Maybe, maybe I did like the things we did, the things I did to him, and the things he did to me. Maybe I miss them, even now. What do I do with myself. What do I do, when I can’t stop thinking of Trudeau? When I can’t stop dreaming of the sex we had, and the way he touched me and the way I touched him? Who could fill the emptiness his affections left within me?”

“You are married, aren’t you, Doctor? Are you like that with your wife? Helplessly in love and lust with her?” she started, drawing Ellis in the conversation. Testing him, and how his marriage was. “I just worry that I am going to compare every relationship I have in the future to this one. Will this man love me the way Trudeau did, enough to risk everything for me? Will I be his fire, his passion? Will I never again know that feeling? And Is it better if I don’t? Is a stable, boring adult relationship better than the affair Trudeau and I had?”

Mr Quixotic · Mar 21, 2017

Sixteen years old, inexperienced in the vagaries of human nature, and at the stage where sexual curiosity ruled her universe, evidenced by the naivety in which she'd fallen for the predatory charms of her High School English Teacher. McHugh couldn't stop those thoughts from intruding into his mind as he continued to listen to Emily, in no doubt she was unaware of his inner fantasies or the hard, throbbing cock he rubbed under the desk, imagining how it'd feel buried in her hot mouth and tight, teen cunt.

Shedding guilt like a snake sheds its skin as he became aware of his intent, the Psychologist appraised Emily. Trudeau likely had loved her, which had been the issue. Because of that, he'd neglected to keep the young woman on as tight a leash as he should have, however, despite his growing obsession to replicate the torrid affair she'd had with the Teacher, Doctor Ellis McHugh wasn't stupid enough to fall into that same trap. The tears flowing down her cheeks and plaintive words falling from her lips were no longer issues of counsel for the Psychologist, but an invitation.

Arrogance and confidence were his companions as he nodded somberly and rose to his feet. Who could fill the emptiness his affections left within me? His erection had softened, however, not fully, and the Doctor gained a sexual thrill from allowing the school-girl to potentially witness the bulge in his suit trousers when he perched on the desk in front of her.

Although he'd removed the obstacles between them, McHugh ensured he remained above Emily in a position of authority to respond to her questions. "Yes, I'm married, and maybe one time I lusted after her without abandon, but I can't recall. Our relationship has always been one more of companionship and convenience than passion, and my wife never the most sexually adventurous. We haven't made love in months."

Shooting the girl a tight smile, he shrugged. No big deal. "However, it appears the chemistry between you and Warren was infinitely more intense than that Beth and I ever shared, and whilst I know it hurts to have lost that unique connection, you're a beautiful and intelligent young woman, capable of inspiring deep passion. You shouldn't despair of not experiencing it again." Reaching out to cup the teenager's chin in his hand, Ellis tenderly brushed away a stray tear, and lowered his voice to a soft whisper. "Because, trust me, Emily, there another man out there, even more special than Trudeau, willing to risk all for your happiness."

Xanaphia · Mar 31, 2017

It was almost too easy. Only the second meeting with Ellis, and already things were progressing so well. Already she had wormed her way into his mind and his desire. Was it a surprise, really? A boring marriage with a boring, frigid wife, while on his couch sat a nubile, curious nymphet. A young woman just begging to be filled by his…knowledge. He hardly even hid his hard on as he stepped out form the sanctuary from behind his desk, a keen eyes catching sight of his prurient proclivities.

So she looked up to Doctor McHugh, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Demure and submissive and straight out of a porn shot, equally ready for a gentle caress or a jet of hot semen to be shot across her face and breasts. She grabbed the hand that cupped her cheek, her touch light. “Thank you, Doctor. It means so much to hear you say such a thing.”

Session 3

“I find myself aroused all the time. Unable to find an outlet that provides even the barest relief,” Emily confessed, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her bare knee. She arrived at this session in a white button up dress and white sandals. Not a particularly provocative look, though with her raw charisma every outfit seemed to drip with sensuality. “I’ve…masturbated nearly every day the past week, but I can’t recreate his touch. Can’t recreate the way he made me feel.” Wearing the face of shame as spoke the words, the dirty words, telling an older man how she touched herself.

“I know I should take some time to myself. Take time to heal and find myself. But I’m driving myself crazy, all alone. Would it be different, if someone else touched me? Would it be like Trudeau, or would it be just as empty as self-gratification is? I try to push the thoughts away, to bury the urges, but they keep coming back. Just a small voice, telling me it would be so easy to find someone to fuck. Anyone to fuck. Some stranger I’ll never have to see again, once the deed is done. Just some desperate desire to prove to myself that I am not broken.”

She sat back on the couch, unable to meet his eyes after being so open with him, so honest. So raw and vulnerable. “I know it’s not a good idea, rationally. I know it, and yet, knowing it has done little to soothe this building longing. The self-destructive impulses. I…I read that it isn’t uncommon for someone like me to become promiscuous after…well, after what happened.” She reasoned, brushing some strands back behind her ear. Hand the traveled lower, rubbing the back of her neck before traveling down the length of the other arm. “What do you recommend doctor? Do I give in, or continue to fight against my yearning?”

Mr Quixotic · Apr 7, 2017

So close, Emily's intoxicating scent consumed Ellis's senses, as did the feel of her silky skin when he caressed her cheek. No wrinkles, no laughter lines, no signs of the ageing process that had become noticeable in Beth the last year or so and McHugh could just bet that, under her clothing, Emily's tits required no support and her pussy would grip like a vice when he fucked her. Not if, now, but when, and the touch of her hand on his sent an anticipatory jolt of electricity down his spine. The caring, professional Psychiatrist, whose sole purpose was to assist Emily to overcome her trauma. "I'm glad, don't ever give up hope, we'll talk about it more next session."

After she departed, Dr Ellis McHugh took a five minute break before buzzing his secretary to send in his last patient of the day to jerk off in the bathroom adjacent to his office, moaning the schoolgirl's name as he came.

Session 3

McHugh was more pleasantly surprised than disappointed to see Emily appear out of her school uniform, as if she'd read his mind. For since their last session, he'd envisaged how she'd look in a number of outfits, from tight jeans or shorts that clung to her perfect, firm ass, to Victoria's secret lingerie to a formal flowing dress worn to a school dance; the common denominator between them all being that every article of clothing would end up on the floor. Either ripped off her ripe, nubile body by Dr Ellis McHugh in a frenzy, or slowly unzipped and unbuttoned, revealing her perfect form an inch at a time.

Seated behind the desk, the man bit his lip as spoke about her need to masturbate daily, wondering if she'd ever done that for Trudeau, or how she'd respond if he revealed that she wasn't alone in her constant arousal. That, in spite of that, since they'd last spoken he hadn't attempted to touch Beth, or used the teensweethearts.com site for self-gratification. Those girls were eighteen and legal, and could not hold a candle to the sixteen year old Emily Harris. Each and every time, it had been with images of her in mind, and now she'd provided him another fantasy to stroke himself to. How he'd just love to watch her sitting back on that sofa, sliding her hand between her legs, and touching herself for him. It took all the concentration Ellis could muster to remain professional.

"Masturbation is normal, Emily, particularly at your age, where you're still learning your body and discovering your sexuality, but to be honest." McHugh chose his words carefully, and shot her a sympathetic smile. Although, with her eyes downcast, he presumed she'd be unable to see it, the Doctor hoped she'd still be able to intuit his care for her predicament. The predicament he shouldn't be glad she'd revealed, but was, easily consoling any remnants of guilt with the fact that if it wasn't to be him, it'd be someone else. At least he could ensure she didn't once again fall under the spell of a real predator. "I'm saddened to hear that you're attempting to recreate what you had with Trudeau, and what else you've just told me."

Having moved from his seat to approach the teenager, rather than assume a position of authority, McHugh brought his chair with him, and seated himself in front of her, as an equal. With Emily's movements obvious displays of nerves to his trained eye, he patted her gently on the back, squeezed her arm to console, and sat back in his chair. "It's true that events like this can result in promiscuous behaviour, but that's dangerous. To simply find someone else to fuck, as you put it, can only result in further shame and regret. However, neither can you deny your needs or ignore the yearning for pleasure that Warren ignited in you because if you continue to fight them, no matter the treatments I recommend, they'll eventually explode."

As he attempted to meet the school-girl's eyes and have her gaze hold his, Ellis brushed her arm with his fingertips again, tenderly caressing her skin. "To ever properly heal the sex cannot be purely physical because your issues are psychological. Not saying that it needs to be love, but there does need to be some emotional connection with the next man you decide to sleep with, and an understanding from him of the why behind your sexual appetite. One who'll allow you to be yourself without judgement, and that you can talk to about your fears."

Allowing his arm to drop, nails scraping lightly against her flesh as it did, he continued "If you look hard enough, you might find that person already exists in your life, a friend, acquaintance, a classmate but have never imagined in that light before." - of course, not her Doctor - "That's an option you should explore before giving yourself to a stranger and exacerbating the damage Trudeau has already caused."

Xanaphia · Apr 14, 2017

Emily noted this featherlight touches Dr. McHugh was giving her. Beyond comfort, she knew. Barely restraining himself. The touches went on and on, fingertip and nails tracing along the surface of her skin. “You’re really telling me to give in to these urges, doctor?” the last word was a breathy sigh, letting him imagine how her voice might sound if she called out his name in a moment of passion. “Guess I am just surprised to hear you say you think I should be intimate with someone. Let another man inside…my heart.” The pause was intentional, inviting him to fill in his own ideas, his own desires, his own cock in his fantasies of her.

“I suppose there is merit to the idea,” she considered, looking down at her nails. Was this really the adive he gave all sexual assault victims, or just the ones he wanted to bang? “I just wonder. How will I find someone who will be tender and patient with me? Who isn’t going to judge me for my past, who isn’t going to pity me for what I went through? I mean, everyone at school knows. Besides, the boys I go to school with…I’d just be another conquest to them.”

It was her turn now, to trace his hand, the hand that was still on her, somehow. Her fingers, ghosting over his knuckles “If I did open myself to someone, again…it’d have to be someone I could trust. Someone I knew had my best interest at heart. Who cared about me, and my recovery.” Finally, she met his eyes, still biting her lip. She was so close now, she could practically taste his breath on her mouth. “But I will think about this, doctor. And I’ll try not to do anything too stupid in the meanwhile.”

Beth still felt guilt for the way she had brushed off her husband’s advances two weeks ago. And how she hadn’t found the time to make up for it before tonight. But, she was determined to show her husband she still found him desirable. That she valued their marriage and their commitment, and she could satisfy his needs. He hadn’t tried to anything since that night, proof she took to mean he was still mad about it.

So, she sent the help away fro the evening and ordered in. Finger foods that were easy and clean, so foreplay could start at dinner. A chilled bottle of champagne, to celebrate their love for one another, no special occasion needed. So she could remember to be the fun, easy going wife he had married. If she had ever really been that person. She even managed to turn off her phone, deciding tonight there was no work, no mayor’s office, no crises that couldn’t wait until morning. Tonight, she was Beth McHugh, Ellis’ loving wife.

Dolled up in dark red lipstick and bold eyeliner, Beth hardly recognized herself. But it went with the little black dress she had picked out today. A cheap, tawdry thing, too short to be worn out in public, surely. This was just for Ellis. Just for him to rip off her or peel form her skin or hike up over her hips to fuck her in it. In her black pumps, she looked like a whore. Felt like a whore. Was this what Ellis wanted? A dirty girl who craved his touch? She’d soon find out.

Mr Quixotic · Apr 20, 2017

Mind consumed by his intentions for Emily, Ellis's physical arousal remained under control as he subtly pushed her thoughts in the direction he desired without being too obvious or raising her suspicions. So his cock remained softened in his trousers when he caressed the girl's skin and attempted to guide her ever closer to making a mental decision that would soon enough lead to her taking that very same cock, fully erect, in her oh-so-tight teen cunt.

Each word she uttered in response, combined her with fingers ghosting over his knuckles in what he took as a sign of trust and search for tactile comfort increased his confidence that he had her close to where he wanted her. Now, simply to allow Emily the time to herself to come to the conclusion that all possible roads led back to one destination, Dr Ellis Mchugh. Who'd be more than content to fill her....heart.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The memory of that last conversation and Emily's departing words had the man in a fine frame of mind as he bid his receptionist a cheerful farewell before making his way back to the house, and Beth. The past couple of weeks had been a little strained, but not overly so, and although he'd not attempted to touch her sexually since that hadn't been out of anger or a display of juvenile passive-aggressive intent to make a point.

It had simply been that since the second session with Emily, he'd possessed no desire for his wife. However, all else had been normal; comfortable silence while they enjoyed a movie and discussion about it afterwards, social engagements that both seemed to enjoy, conversations about work, and reading together in bed. Simply, no sex, and as far as Ellis was concerned, Beth probably hadn't even noticed. Or, if she had, didn't care. "Hey, honey, how was your day?"

Calling out as entered, Ellis unknotted his tie and walked in, his voice trailing off when he saw Beth in the shortest of dresses and face made-up to the nines. Shit. That was the first thought that entered his head, and the second was an immediate comprehension of why. Even as his eyes traveled down her form, he felt not a jolt of anticipation, but a flare of complete disinterest and almost anger at her for placing him in this situation.

Not that Beth wasn't still a handsome woman, but she wasn't a sixteen year old Emily Harris, and ever since he'd begun to fantasise about the girl, he'd gained greater pleasure from self-gratification than the last time he'd had sex with his wife. And now here she was, dressed like a cheap whore, obviously expecting Ellis to fuck her that night when he'd be fortunate to get an erection without filling his mind with images of the schoolgirl. Simultaneously, he couldn't excuse himself or claim to be too tired as that could potentially raise questions he'd rather not answer.

McHugh took a deep breath and approached Beth, whistling as he ran his gaze over her body, hoping the reaction appeared appreciative enough, before he slipped his arms around her waist and raised a brow. "Damn, baby, you look fucking hot." Already he'd begun to imagine his young client wearing that same dress, and that it was her firm ass he'd slid his hand down to cup, and whose lips he pecked. "Must be my lucky day."

Xanaphia · Apr 27, 2017

Beth smiled up at Ellis as he whistled at her, trying not to analyze what it meant. Remembering how he acted that one night, when she chose work over him. It was hard not to notice how restrained he was being now.

No. She wasn’t going to be deterred. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he needed some coaxing. She could do that. She owed him that. Maybe he was afraid of trying again, only to be pushed aside again when work came a-calling. That was why she needed to press forward. To remind them both of the passion they shared. To remind herself of how much she enjoyed her husband. Every aspect of him.

“Oh, you have no idea,” She cooed, taking her time with the buttons this time. Let anticipation build, she decided. No rush. They had all evening to enjoy one another. This wasn’t juvenile sex, rushed and desperate and half over before it even starts. This was married sex, between people who knew each other well. It was slow, and thorough, incorporating everything between them. Mental as much as physical. His shirt was open and her hands caressed his chest, “I am going to rock your world, baby.”

Beth cringed at the words, but she didn’t show it. Ugh, did she even know how to talk dirty to him? When was the last time she had tried? Still, she refused to stop, to let up, pushing forward. They needed this. So her hand worked open his trousers, trying not to be disappointed that he wasn’t hard yet. She could fix that. Fingers stroked over his shaft, sliding up and down, tracing veins and bulges. It was working, a little. She’d have to do more, if she wanted sex tonight. She’d have to, and she would. She did owe him, afterall.

“Why don’t you come here and sit down,” She invited, pulling him by the arm towards the couch. “That’s get, get nice and comfortable.” She took his shoes off for him and pulled off his pants, and undergarments, leaving him with only an open shirt to cover his body. “Tonight, I’m going to take care of you. You tell me what you want baby. Your wife is all yours. Whatever you want.” Beth offered, hoping she wouldn’t regret it. They were usually pretty vanilla in bed, so it wasn’t like Ellis would spring something weird on her, tonight. Would he?

Ellis was her husband. She’d know if he were into weird stuff. She gripped his cock, just beginning to finally harden, pumping it up and down. Bringing her head down, breathing his scent. Tentative lips planted light kisses on him, on the head just starting to throb. “Is this what you want, love? Want me on my knees?”

Mr Quixotic · May 2, 2017

Caught in the crossfire of his wife's intent and not wanting to create another scene, or more importantly, raise Beth's suspicious, the images of Emily receded and Ellis willed will his mind to overcome the lack of reaction displayed by his body. At any other stage their marriage, his erection would have almost been bursting the seams of his pants Beth had greeted him like this. Co-oing and talking dirty, as awkward as that sounded in his ears, and seducing her husband with no warning.

However, the problem was as much as he'd often such from Beth now that it was actually happening, he was struck with the thought of what had suddenly led to it, and that didn't help one iota to harden his cock. Had she somehow found out about Emily, his predilection for teenage girls, about the website's he'd visited, had his receptionist mentioned his new client and Beth put two and two together, resulting in an attempt to win back his affections?

Those questions and more bounced around in the Psychologist's mind, even as she unbuttoned his trousers and rubbed his meat. Had she noticed his lack of eagerness, how different his arousal was from that night two weeks ago. "Why don't you tell me then baby?" Pushing the negatives aside; surely if she had discovered Emily, this was the last way she'd be acting, therefore it had to purely relate to the other night; and attempting to not think at all did help. The sensations were nice, so simply allow his body to respond naturally as any man's would whilst he tried to convince Beth that her actions were having the desired effect on him mentally.

"Damn, what's gotten into you." Grinding his hips into her touch, Ellis gripped her ass and smiled when she maneuvered him to the sofa, his member fully released, and thankfully, also fully erect, now requiring attention regardless of who it may be to give it. After he fell onto the sofa and she sunk to her floor, Ellis closed his eyes and groaned at the unbidden image that accompanied her actions, of the blonde schoolgirl in his office sliding out of her chair and smirking at him as she crawled under his desk.

Although he remained mostly cognisant that it was his wife who stroked his cock, at the same time it wasn't. It was one of the girls from teen-sweethearts.com, it was Emily in her school-uniform. Girls who, unlike the Beth he knew, would drop to their knees without conscious thought and beg to be gagged on a man's cock before he screwed them raw. Who gained obvious pleasure from being treated as, and spoken to, like a whore. Was that what Beth wanted, how he wanted him to treat her, and why she'd dressed as she had or was he simply projecting all of that from the fantasies of Emily? If Beth could become a woman she wasn't, was that what she expected from him, also, to become a beast she'd never encountered before. As he'd witnessed on the computer screen, and envisaged Trudeau having done with Emily.

Conflicting images raced through his head, alternating between visions of Beth and the schoolgirl until one clearly coalesced. That of a sixteen year old blonde, lips grazing his shaft and teasing him with her words, baiting him to take control. The moan that brought forth from Ellis was a sign of true arousal as was the way his eyes briefly rolled in his head before he managed to jerk upright and stare with lust-filled eyes directly into the face of the woman on the floor. "What do I want?"

His voice hoarse, McHugh shot a hand out, hooked his fingers into the fabric of Beth's dress and grabbed hold of a tit. Simultaneously, he buried the digits of his other into the locks of the luscious, blonde tresses at the nape of her neck, "I want you to suck my fucking cock," shuddering when he bucked his hips and forced his entire length between the pretty young teen's lips. "Before I bend you over and screw you like a dirty slut." Gasping the words McHugh controlled Emily by her hair, and started to pump his meat more roughly in and out of her mouth than he'd ever have dared with Beth.

Xanaphia · May 4, 2017

Ellis was liking it. Well, of course he was liking it, what man didn’t like getting blown by his wife? Whatever concerns Beth had as the evening begin slipped away as she focused on her husband’s pleasure. They could spend all night making love, reconnecting. This was just what they needed. Love, passion, pleasure and bliss, all rolled into one night.

He was getting rough, though. Groping at her breasts, fingers fisting in her hair. Never before had he treated her like this. But, she had given him permission, hadn’t she? Offered him whatever he wanted? It’s wasn’t so terrible. Just rougher than she was used to. Maybe this meant Ellis was really enjoying this, enjoying her, losing control of himself at her performance. That’s what she tried to tell herself, as her husband forced his cock in her mouth, nearly down her throat. This was new, and he wanted new, and she owed his this much.

Soon, what she was doing was not enough for him. He made her take more, fucking her mouth. Saliva drooled from her chin and stuck to his meat in thin strings, her only relief from his forceful thrusts. She tried to just relax, let this happen, let Ellis enjoy himself. Surely he’d repay the favor, wouldn’t he?

But Beth wasn’t a whore, and she certainly wasn’t accustomed to rough face fucking from Ellis. And try as she might to acquiesce to her husband’s desires, she couldn’t stand it for long. Not as gag reflexes kicked in and her jaw ached. She tried to take back control, to move her own pace, but Ellis did not relent, and she had to exert her strength to pull away, gasping and coughing as she regained her composure. She managed a weak smile at her husband, makeup smeared and lips covered in spit and his precum, “I guess it has been a while, huh? I need a minute, if you want more of that. Or we can move on to other stuff.”

Mr Quixotic · May 9, 2017

Ellis was loving it. Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the sofa panting in arousal and fisting the blonde schoolgirl's hair in his palm, the psychiatrist was lost in the pleasure amidst thoughts of Emily Harris. Never in his life would he have dared to simply shove his cock between Beth's lips, but she wasn't Beth, she was a teenager who desired the man to take control, and when he re-opened his eyes, he could see only the schoolgirl's visage.

Pushing down on her head, McHugh almost ripped hair from her scalp, only subliminally hearing the gaps and coughs caused by his roughness. Ellis' free hand left her tit and fell to his side, fingers curled and nails scratching the sofa, and bucked in ecstasy each time the tip hit the back of her throat. "Ohhh, fuck." The long, low growl brought forth as much by the thought of who was servicing him than by the sensations themselves, the man's gaze fully focused when she pulled back, leaving his erect cock throbbing and coated in saliva. Needing relief.

Simultaneously a thrill of fear went through his entire body as with the spell broken, he recognised Beth again as herself and his pupils widened in concerned anticipation at what she'd have to say about what he'd just done, and how whorish she looked with threads of precum and spittle hanging from her lips. However, from her voice and the smile, it seemed that possibly she'd seemed to enjoy it. Or at least that's what the man told himself as he forced a smile back, not realising that it was more of a grimace, and moved forward in the chair. "Something else." He gripped her arm, attempting to speak lightly and pretend to be her loving husband again, but internally pissed at having his fantasy interrupted.

Which was probably why his fingers dug into her flesh more harshly than necessary when he moved from the sofa. "Mmm, I love how you dressed for me. Bend over." Ellis didn't provide his wife the time to acquiesce to his request before he lifted her up and deposited her face down on the cushions, knees on the floor and ass in the air. Two seconds later, he'd hiked the dress up over Beth's waist, ripped her panties down her hips and thrust the full length of his aching meat balls-deep in her cunt.

At least with her face not visible, having planted his hand on top of her head and straddled her from behind, he could continue to imagine that it was Emily. When he then pulled back, bent his legs and began to pound Beth with his all his might, ramming his engorged meat in and out of her pussy, Ellis hoped the unrestrained urgency and hot-breathed, ragged moans in her ear would evidence to his wife the effect she still had him and his full appreciation for the efforts she'd made to please. "Feel good, baby?"

Xanaphia · May 16, 2017

Beth tried not to be disappointed as Ellis got right into sex. She really hoped he’d show her some of the same attention she’d shown him. Loving, tender oral, or even just his fingers, working in and out of her until she was wet enough to take him. She had to remind herself how she had left him hanging the last time he tried. How cruel that was, to put the way her husband acted in perspective.

Despite what she told herself, she did yelp as Ellis moved her, pushing her face down into the cushions and her ass in the air. She just never thought her husband could treat her this way, or that he might even want to treat her so. What had gotten into him? Was her head that good, that he was reduced to a wild animal? It hardly seemed a comfort, as she groaned against her husband’s sudden penetration. She was tight, and hardly wet, and it took significant effort to push his way in.

Maybe he’d get a hint. That she needed some romancing too. “Ellis,” She whined, spreading herself wider in hopes it might ease some of the pressure. “Ellis, please…slower.” The last word dissolved into a cry, her entire body jerking as he plowed deep into her.

There was no reaching him now, too lost to lust to comprehend what she needed. This was what she offered, wasn’t it? Whatever he wanted? How could she complain when he took her at her word? So she groaned, and tried to relax, tried to let this happen, tried to focus on his pleasure. Surely it would be her turn afterwards.

A few strokes in, she was getting wet. Wetter, as his thrusts didn’t hurt as much. Still harder than she was used to, causing her to digging her fingers into the fabric of the couch. At least it didn’t hurt anymore, just made her feel dirty. Like she really was the whore she had dressed up as. That thought stung some. “Ellis,” she cried again, any other words too difficult to manage now. Just a desperate calling for her husband, for him to remember who she was, and not just who he was imagining her to be. Reminding him she was his wife, not a whore. “Ellis…please.”

Mr Quixotic · May 22, 2017

Even with the woman face-down on the cushions where he couldn't see her face, Ellis knew Beth's body intimately. Each touch, the curve of her spine, width of her hips, the colour of her hair and it swung as he rammed himself in and out of her cunt was imprinted in his brain, and he recognised that imagining she was Emily was nowhere near as to what the real thing would be. As well as how badly he disrespected the woman he professed to love.

However, the realisation had only come to him after the fog had cleared from his brain, when his engorged cock desperately required relief. As he straddled her, one hand in her hair, it wasn't the school-girl's tight, dripping pussy he was screwing, but the dry one of his wife, and the whines and moans weren't the screams of a sixteen year old school-girl, crying out in ecstasy, but exclamations of surprise and possibly pain. But what could he do, stop mid-stream and attempt to explain himself, or plough on, literally, and try to convince Beth afterwards that he'd simply lost control because of how much she'd aroused him?

The decision was made easier when he felt her pussy getting wet as he forced his meat deeper and deeper. This time, he didn't lie to himself that it was because she was turned on, fully aware it was likely only her body's protective reaction. At least it consoled him that he wouldn't cause too much physical pain. With his balls beginning to shrink and his pants and moans growing increasingly louder, attempting to pull Ellis McHugh off his wife at that stage would have been like trying to stop a freight train at full throttle, and his need to shoot his load was almost unbearable. The sooner it was over with, the better. For both.

Releasing his grip on her hair, Ellis' legs bent and straightened as he pounded her harder and harder, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, and his cock ramming in and out of her cunt mostly drowning out her pleas. Then, with one violent thrust, he bounced her in the air, and his entire body bucked, and his head flew back. "Ohhhh fuck." Ellis McHugh screamed as he came, shooting stream after stream of hot cum inside her, before the climax ceased as abruptly as it had started and he collapsed on top of Beth.

After he caught his breath, "Damn, Beth," Ellis shifted his weight, reached up to brush a wisp of hair from her neck, and tenderly nuzzled the exposed skin. Self-preservation competing with guilt and the real affection he felt for his wife, he then cupped her cheek, turned her head to face him, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "I needed that. Thank you."

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing; When Predator Becomes Prey. (Quix & Xana)

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