Anal Therapy

My new psychiatrist wasn't at all what I expected. When I saw her name in the phone book, I pictured a dowdy old lady wearing a long, gray skirt and flat-soled shoes. What else could Dr. Edith Doss look like?

I got my answer when a tall, leggy redhead stepped into the waiting room. A tight, black dress squeezed her body, barely containing her hondew-size tits and hourglass hips.

I was smitten.

"Louis Humphrey?" she asked.

I threw aside the tattered copy of Time magazine I'd been reading and gulped.

"Th-th-that's me," I said.

Beautiful women always make me stammer like an idiot. The redhead knew it. A cherry-red smile spread across her creamy cheeks.

"I'm Dr. Doss," she said. "I'd usually have a secretary here to greet you, but she's on vacation this week. You're stuck with just me. Is that OK with you?"

I gulped again.

"F-f-ine," I said.

Dr. Doss smiled again.

"Good," she said. "Follow me to my office, and we'll see what's bothering you."

With her hips swaying, Dr. Doss led me down a short hallway and then left into her living room of an office. She seemed to float, even though she wore heels that had to be at least four-inches tall. The doctor left a lovely scent behind her. I don't know what kind of perfume she wore, but it was very beautiful and probably very expensive.

Dr. Doss' office had an open floor plan with a book shelf on one side and a view of the city's main interstate on the other. The doctor motioned for me to lay on a leather couch with a raised headrest. She picked up a yellow notebook and pen from the glass coffee table and then sat in a chair across from me, crossing her legs. I immideately noticed that if she uncrossed them, I might be able to see up her skirt and catch what color panties she was wearing.

"So, Louis," she said with a warm smile. "What brings you here?"

"Well, doctor," I said. "I've got these weird fantasies."