Ashley was frustrated. Not with the doctor, but with herself. She slumped in her chair and exhaled.
“Yes, you are correct in everything you said. But it also what you said: John is my son, and neither of us is supposed to feel this way about one another, especially me.”
The psychologist acknowledged to herself that Ashley’s objection sounded whiney and was weak. It was time to take her and her son to what she dubbed The Bedroom. Before that, though, she wanted (and needed) to do something. She looked at the young man, specifically his groin.
“John, all this sexual talk involving your mother—it excites you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I see the tent in your shorts,” she said matter-of-factly. He looked at her somewhat sheepishly, remaining quiet.
“I want you to stand up, John,”
The college student did as he was told. He stood up…with the bulge in his shorts on full display.
Out of the corner of her eye, the therapist saw the mother’s eyes widen at the sight of her son sporting a massive woody. Holly herself had to briefly stare at it in her own adoration of the stiff, fabric-covered dick. She stood up as well and walked to Ashley’s child. She faced him and asked, “Do you mind?”
John had no idea what she was asking about. Confused, he simply nodded in compliance.
Holly looked at Ashley and spoke. “If I had son this good looking and with a ‘package’ like this…”
The doctor cupped her hand under his balls. She held them a brief second, massaged them and then rubbed upward, along the steely contour of his erection. She quickly whirled her palm over the penile top and took away her hand from John’s crotch.
“…I wouldn’t let him out of the house to go to the supermarket.”
“Uh!” groaned John at the unexpected, brief, but pleasurable touch of Holly. His boner lurched in his pants, while a heavy shot of pre-come stained the front of his underwear.
Ashley felt like a hungry dog seeing food and wanting it so bad but was chained, unable to get what she so desired. She also felt a tad jealous at what Holly just did to her son. And yet her arousal edged up slightly seeing him in another sexual situation.
Holly, meanwhile, felt sluttish glee having sexually touched a man for the first time in eons. This glee was so profound that the therapist didn’t care that her love oils were coating her inner thighs. Looking at the conflicted facial expression of the mother, she could see the internal battle going on in Ashley’s mind.
It was time, concluded Holly.
“Perhaps a less clinical setting is in order,” the psychologist, in a low tone, offered. “Why don’t you two get comfortable in there,” she gestured with her hand toward the door which led to The Bedroom. She stood up and smiled seductively at mother and son, reaching for their hands.
“Come on.”
Holly, hand in hand with Ashley and John, led them into the room the therapist used for special cases. It was a small but lavish room complete with a kind-size bed and a chaise lounge facing the bed. After closing the door, Holly was in front of the mother and son who were standing next to each other adjacent to the bed.