my black whore

My first story so be nice…..please

This is a story about the day I crossed the line. To many this account will lessen the faith so many have put in their health care professionals. But at this point, I don’t give a fuck…

A little about myself, I’m tall with an athletic build and bald. Believe it or not I am bald by choice. I’m 56 years old, and I’ve been married to the same woman for 22 years. I make my living as a psychiatrist. I specialize in nothing in particular. Over 80% of my patients are suburban housewives who spend their husband hard earned money to lay on my sofa to bitch and moan about him not listening to her needs. It’s such bullshit. But it pays the bills.

Recently I attended a three day seminar on sexual counseling. This enabled me to list sexual therapy on my list of qualifications. Was I really qualified? The state of NC said I was.

This is when my lack of professionalism came into question. This is when I crossed the line. A line might I add is one I have no intention of giving up. I now have a need for the sexual control I have.
It was a Monday, and Mondays for me are just like everyone else’s. I dreaded it. The workday began at 9am with Mrs. Dales. I hate this whiny bitch. Her hour always seemed to be the longest.
My 11am appointment was a newbie. She was also my first sexual patient. On her first appointment we would do her assessment. I read over the notes my secretary took from her. She was 26, married and she believed she had some kind of sexual disorder. I assumed she was some stuck-up bitch who did not want to fuck her husband, and wanted me to validate her bullshit with a medical diagnosis.

When she arrived my secretary escorted her in before leaving for lunch. My back was to her, but I could tell when she sat down. I spun my chair around and I was instantly shocked. She was gorgeous and she was black. You have to understand, 100% of my patients were white, well until now. I’m not normally caught off guard, but I was not expecting that.

We introduced ourselves, and I instructed her to lay back and make herself comfortable. The assessment normally lasted an hour and a half. Once she seemed somewhat at ease I asked her to tell me about herself. I listened as she spoke of her life, nothing too personal just basic shit.

My eyes were glued to her chest. Her tits were massive. Her skin was the color of heavy creamed coffee. She wore a thin knee length black dress. It accented every curve. I watched her lips as she spoke. They were full and enticing. They glistened with some form of lip gloss.

I asked her to explain her sexual problem to me. I watched her take a deep intake of air and closed her eyes.