Stephanie Rogers

STEPHANIE ROGERS

The storyline and characters are all fiction. I hope you enjoy...

Chapter One

My name is Stephanie Rogers, I am a 28 year old freelance journalist. The job certainly has its rewards when you get lucky with a top story, but it is also very competitive. You are always looking to see if you can invent a new angle to get yourself noticed, or make yourself that bit more saleable.

Anyway, I received a call earlier this year when things were a bit too quiet for my liking, I have rent to pay like anybody else. The call came from a Rebecca Stamp, a slim elegant woman of 37 who had recently taken over as editor in chief for a magazine I had worked on from time to time.

I went to her office to meet her in person.

The story was; she had got wind of a man who had set up what Rebecca described as, nothing more than a 'sex for sale shop' for women guests only, in which he participated fully.

His name was Joe Holloway, he was a 34 year old qualified sex therapist, who claimed the industry was becoming too restrictive, and too prescriptive in its approach. He had become increasingly frustrated and disillusioned as a result. He felt there was a gap in the market, and had discussed it with close colleagues before he took the plunge. When he set up on his own, he was accused of going 'rogue' within the industry, pandering to his own specific agenda. Everyone in the business knew of him, most disapproved, but it still appeared to be a closed shop in terms of any further information coming out.

He offered his own unique approach to many enthusiastic women in need of his help it seemed.

He had named his business 'The Climax Clinic', where he promised a 'private & professional' experience.

'The Cringe Clinic', Rebecca retorted.

On offer was a more personal approach he claimed. He hadn't even needed to advertise, because he already had a back catalogue of willing patients keen to enlist in his services. It had all taken off from there apparently, and continued to do so by word of mouth. Now he had a three month waiting list, which was growing.

'It's like he's running his own little harem down there', Rebecca chipped in.

His focus was on the female orgasm. If you found it hard to achieve, or wanted results with more regularity, or with greater ease or intensity, he offered his services both mentally and physically. Not only would he escort you on a magical evening, but more importantly he planned to help with any sexually related topics that you might be struggling with. There would be valuable lessons to take away from the evening, so you could hopefully put them into practise thereafter.

The arrogance of the man seemed mind boggling, yet women seemed to be flocking to him.

For a circa 6 to 8 hour single session, you need only part with a whopping great £7.5k.

It seemed to me a strange glimpse at modern society, when a man can publically advertise to 'look after women' in his clinic for cash.

Where was this all leading I wondered?

Rebecca chimed in with 'would you pay £7.5k for a 'private & professional' experience? Then before even allowing me to answer she went on, 'I mean, I like an orgasm as much as the next girl but....' She left her sentence unfinished as we looked at each other in wonder, shaking heads.

I giggled a little self-consciously before admitting I enjoyed sex, so rarely had difficulties in that department.

'Ow.., lucky you', she acknowledged enviously.

'The only good thing I can see in this sordid affair', she went on, 'is the fact that £1k of the fee goes to a charity of your choosing.'

'What' I responded quizzically.

'Yes, he's quite upfront. £3.5k is his fee, £3k goes towards the evening (hotel, drinks, meals, entertainment etc), which leaves the unusual £1k donation fee.'

'Another weird bit of his fee structure suggests, he will refund half of his fee, if for whatever reason you wish to end the evening prematurely,' she went on.

'So if you get cold feet at any point', I replied, 'you get nearly two grand back. He's a confident man isn't he?'

The more you delved deeper into the story, the more it became clear that he was present when all of the above 'education' took place, leading to Rebecca's likely theory of him participating fully. It could I guessed, be what made him so attractive to the women in the first place. You just couldn't be sure.

It was a lot to take in, did the women have to prove they genuinely needed his help? I needed to take stock.

It was undoubtedly a fascinating project, but one I was also feeling a little uneasy about. Rebecca went on to explain that the magazine had tried to make contact with him, hoping his likely ego might bring him to the table. It didn't, the only conversations to be had on the subject would be with his clients alone, he replied. The magazine had also tried and failed with all other lines of enquiry. Clearly what went on in the clinic, stayed in the clinic.

I concluded he must be the first medically qualified 'gigolo' to sell his wears, taking care of a bunch of sad and lonely middle aged women. But no, this was clearly another element that had got Rebecca's goat, he was only interested in 'educating' women who were a size 10, and aged between 25 and 40.

I must have gawped as the penny dropped.

'You want me to go undercover don't you?' I said trying to quell my rising fear.

'Only 50% of applicants are successful, although he doesn't limit the amount of applications you can make' she replied, 'he clearly picks and chooses who he wishes to 'educate'. You are 28 and a size 10 for starters, but you also have a bust, and if I'm not mistaken, that's natural long blond hair you've got tied up on your head. How can he resist you?'

She must have seen I had doubts, even though I was trying hard to hide the concern in my eyes.

'I wouldn't put you in any danger Stephanie, I've considered myself in your position. The word 'consensual' is scattered liberally all over his website. He will only make a play for you if you encourage him.'

What could I do? I needed the money, and I knew I wouldn't be invited back for any other job with Rebecca if I turned this one down, but I was way outside of my comfort zone.

Fact was, I needed the money which was generous. It therefore had to be a no brainer surely?

I rallied and forced myself to come across all enthusiastic, full of gratitude, but behind it hid an uneasiness inside of me.

We soon shook hands however, and I agreed to see if I could find anything more about him and furthermore, complete the required application form for Rebecca to inspect within 48 hours.

Chapter Two

On my way home I kept wondering, 'what have I got myself into?' I had to admit though, it was an intriguing project to pick up.

Kettle boiled and tea by my side, I opened up his website within minutes of returning home.

There was a photo of him, and although presentable he was hardly an Adonis.

I didn't dwell however, I couldn't help myself, I wanted to see the review section.

A little confused, I wondered if the 5 star rating I witnessed was a mistake.

Every single one of the 117 who'd responded, gave him a 5. That was unheard of wasn't it? Rebecca hadn't mentioned that.

There was little detail in the reviews however, due to none-disclosure agreements he had everyone sign up to before he met up with them. A further reiteration of 'whatever went on in the clinic, stayed in the clinic.'

That said, there were plenty of endorsements and words of praise, including a good number saying it had been the best night of their lives!

They need to get out more I thought.

There was a stringent set of rules to get past if you were fortunate enough to meet our 'sex hero' however.

To qualify for an appointment, there were three stipulations to consider as Rebecca had pointed out earlier. I looked at them and wondered how he was able to get away with it.

1 - you had to have been born female and remain so.

2 - you needed to be aged between 25 and 40.

3 - it was necessary to be a size 10.

Impossible for many I mused, but not for me as Rebecca had pointed out, which is probably why I'd got the gig in the first place. And they say you make your own luck!?

If I felt a little smug about passing the first test it was short lived.

I was now looking at the application form, and the final section had me spinning into a blind panic, I instantly regretted taking the job. No wonder Rebecca hadn't run through this bit with me in her office. There was a photograph and video section to complete. This was seriously invasive I concluded, I didn't like it one bit. Unfortunately there was no way of submitting your application without it however. You were expected to upload several photos of yourself either in underwear or swimwear. Thankfully the video was not obligatory.

I scowled and seethed.

I then dithered, stewing over the indignity of having to send semi-naked photos of myself to an arrogant sex pest, who I didn't know, all so he might deign to see me.

I again wondered what I was getting myself into, pondering over every likely eventuality. I went to bed that night restless, whichever way you looked at it, it seemed to spell out trouble.

The following morning however, I took a good look in the mirror, and gave myself a right talking to. I considered myself a confident heterosexual women who enjoyed sex, and although I didn't have a steady boyfriend at the time, I didn't struggle for romance when the mood took me, so why therefore was I being such a prude?

I opened the website again and started to complete the application form.

It was clearly laid out and, apart from the obvious details about yourself, it went onto things like, why have you applied?, what do you hope to get out of it?, what methods have you tried previously, and what were the outcomes?, before giving further details about what made you tick, such as interests, regrets, aspirations, fears etc. Nothing was off grid.

I struggled completing the application form as I was unable to be completely truthful, and I cringed as I uploaded the photos of me. I had chosen a couple of one piece swimsuit pictures I'd thankfully found after I'd been away with my folks, but I still felt acutely embarrassed.

I loathed him for making it obligatory.

Rebecca was back in an instant, 'you're under selling yourself, he will never choose you. You are a very attractive woman, we know this is important to him. Furthermore, there's nothing in your 'interests' section that will interest him! We need something a little risqué to help turn his head, make him take notice', she said without taking breath.

'Yes, yes, no problem', I replied.

I recognised I'd been too righteous and self-conscious on the photo front, and was embarrassed she'd had to point out the bleeding obvious.

'Now 'interests', she added, 'you put dancing, travel, reading, music and fitness, but what else are you known for. Anything vaguely provocative?'

I frantically wondered what might work, and clearly panicked when I opened my mouth, 'I've been accused of being a bit of a show-off and a tease when I've had a drink,' I ventured.

'Brilliant' she cried, 'an exhibitionist!'

'What?' I said, 'I wouldn't go that far'.

But after further discussion we finally agreed upon; 'I had a distant interest in exhibitionism.'

I now realised I was between a rock and a hard place however. If my application was successful I would be nervously entering the lion's den. If it was unsuccessful, Rebecca had suggested I might have the excruciating task of trying to convince him to see me by ingratiating myself in a video.

I shuddered.

This was getting very personal all of a sudden I thought, I hated the fact I had to try and interest him visually.

I received the application response two weeks later. When I opened the email, I guess the first thought I had was relief, he would be delighted to see me. I wasn't overjoyed, just relieved. The second thought that went through my mind was.., 'oh fuck, what have I done!'

Chapter Three

It took a further 13 weeks before my appointment was confirmed. A few checks were necessary, including blood tests and the like, clearly if you were likely to get intimate with someone, all these precautions were necessary. Plus I also had to wait my turn of course.

I couldn't help feeling it was all a bit impersonal, given I hadn't even met the man.

His appointments were on Wednesday's and Saturday's. It was confirmed when we'd meet, he had studied my profile and as one interest I'd highlighted was dancing, he suggested I bring appropriate clothing for the dance floor. I must admit I was intrigued.

I hadn't studied the requirements carefully enough to realise each appointment was meticulously 'Taylor-made' for each client, based on your application form and information therein. I suppose it was obvious, but maybe I was subconsciously avoiding what would make me feel uneasy. Would the exhibitionist comment come back to haunt me? That said, I might not be in this position if I hadn't lied, it was a concern that proved too hard to fathom.

The evening came around and I was picked-up by limousine, in the driver's seat was a friendly and handsome young black man called Dave. After making sure I was comfortable, he drove me to a swanky hotel. He (the sex therapist) met me in the reception foyer for the first time, he introduced himself as Joe Holloway, greeting me with warmth and assurance, he seemed very personable if first impressions were anything to go by, showing a genuine interest in me. He was also a lot more presentable than I was expecting. After seeing his website photo, I was surprised to look into what I thought was a kind looking face. He was tall and lean, with brushed back untidy brown hair, slightly greying at the temples.

I was a bit stumped at first, was I expecting to instantly dislike him?

'Let's get your stuff up to your room, and get you comfortable', he said helping me with my bags.

The room was dead plush, I'd never stayed anywhere quite like it, but I tried not to show I was too impressed.

You walked into a large quirky, lavishly furnished lounge area, with small kitchen provision. Beyond the lounge sat an imposing king size 4 poster bed, sat central in a tastefully decorated and lit bedroom. I shivered as I looked around, what had I let myself in for?

'I hope it's to your liking', he enquired.

Beyond the bedroom was the en-suite bathroom, which had more mirrors than the famed 'hall of mirrors' in Versailles I thought, it must be a nightmare to clean. In the centre of the room was a large Jacuzzi, with a further shower facility away from the window.

'They've thought of everything', I replied nervously.

I couldn't help myself, I felt genuinely impressed although I tried not to show it. Behind it all however, I was fast becoming terrified about how the evening might unfold. Could I carry off this charade?

I really was beginning to struggle with the whole concept again. We had paid for the room and no doubt a wonderful meal, then presumably he'd take me off dancing to return to this room later..., but then what?

I was starting to panic, and had to force myself to calm down.

He never stayed overnight, but if you chose to, you would continue to be looked after as a premium guest.

The website blurb obviously made no reference to sex but, it seemed to suggest the evening was set up to provide both physical and mental 'education' for his guest. What might that entail I thought, had I just entered an elaborate upmarket knocking shop?

Back in the lounge, our sex therapist was pouring out aperitifs.

'I hope they have alcohol in', I joked.

'My mum's recipe', he replied.

I don't know what was in it, but it tasted good and helped calm the nerves.

He was already dressed for dinner, so he made sure I had a key fob and then said, 'make yourself comfortable, and I will pop back and collect you for dinner in 20 minutes, is that okay?'

It was, I only needed to change clothes, I'd already done my hair and make-up.

'We'll come back here after dinner to change before we go dancing in one of my favourite spots, I'm sure you'll love it.'

Chapter Four

Glad rags donned, he collected me soon after and we jumped into the lift before heading down for dinner.

The restaurant was intimate, mainly down to the low lighting levels. Lots of hard surfaces meant you could hear the clatter and chatter from the kitchen in the background, but the tables were well spaced out, and the chairs lovely and cossetting, it felt very personal despite its size.

I found myself unable to shake off my nervousness, I had never been in this position before. The position of spy that is! I hated lies and had never been very good at them either. I galvanised myself however, I needed to help take down this male chauvinist sex pest, or at least expose him.

I was knocked a little sideways however when my sex therapist turned out to be the perfect dinner companion. I quickly found out he was talkative, witty and warm, nothing like the arrogance or excessive confidence I expected. We had a further aperitif before he ordered wine when he understood my preference.

The first course was spent just getting to know each other. It wasn't until the main course arrived, that he started to probe into my application. I was having none of it.

'You have to admit, this is a strange way to run a sex clinic', I ventured.

He was used to it of course.

'Very' he admitted, 'let me tell you how I got to this point, then maybe you will tell me a bit about yourself.'

He then proceeded to tell me he was a fully qualified sex therapist, he hadn't meant to get into it, but had been influenced by experiences he'd accidentally found himself involved in, with two female friends from his youth. Two experiences, where he had managed to help more than the industry set up to manage such difficulties.

When people found themselves in need of help in the sexual area, they were understandably uncomfortable, it was embarrassing, and despite help the outcomes regularly frustrated. He seemed to have a happy knack of being able to sensitively help out with many query resolutions, or at the very least help improve their situation. These instances occurred while he was still in medical school, but their success stimulated his interest and his subsequent move into specialising in the area.

Both fixes had required a level of intimacy that he could only really get away with, as they were friends. He admitted that he had ended up sleeping with one, with the approval of her boyfriend, and getting intimate with the other. The outcomes had both been positive however much to his relief, the whole experience had filled him with a great deal of pride.

'Are you not 'losing your load' as part of your 'education', I responded crudely.

He sat back and studied me patiently for a minute.

'Often', he finally acknowledged with a sigh.

'I didn't on those first two occasions, but I don't want to be evasive so, to answer your question, yes, it does happen, and frequently. I never seek that outcome, it is not my brief. However, your relationship and understanding of a person inevitably morphs and changes as the evening progresses, and you get to know and understand each other better. Barriers might come down, and perhaps even some level of trust and comfort is established. People hopefully find themselves more open and willing to discover hidden sides of them. If that ultimately takes them to a better place, then I consider that a success.

'How convenient', I replied. 'Let me understand you, are you saying people get carried away, once you've had chance to charm them?' I asked accusingly.

'I would prefer to use the word 'help' rather than 'charm' but, if we can set that aside the answer is yes', he replied to my astonishment. 'You know it yourself, we are all capable of getting carried away. Perhaps we should seek to do so more often', he countered.

'Just hear me out please', he carried on, 'whatever physical pleasure I may receive, it is short lived and not nearly as satisfying or long lasting as the pleasure of knowing I have helped someone with their problem, whether it be a kink they perhaps needed to discover or get comfortable with, or something more serious.'

'How convenient', I thought again as I looked at him sceptically.

He was confident and assured, but I detected no arrogance or 'know-it-all' attitude as I had been expecting. He seemed to discuss the subject in an open and rational manner, using matter of fact language, I detected no seediness either.

'If you take a physical strain elsewhere on the body as a parallel', he was clearly on a roll, 'a physio is all hands on, to try and help with the problem. Only when it comes to the sexual organs do we take a different approach. I understand that, of course I do, but in many cases, if there's a 'grown-up' willingness to tackle the problem head on with consent involved, what's more important, the fix or the ethics? Most issues are down to mentality, but in many cases it takes physical reassurance to assuage those mental hang ups. I just ask that people try not to be too judgemental, until after I've spent time with them.'

I decided to change my line of attack.

'What about outside relationships.' I countered, 'is your wife or partner not disturbed by your job?'

I was then startled when he said he had made the decision not to be in a relationship when he set up his business. I see two clients a week, but I confess I work only two in every three weeks, so I see no more than 75 clients a year. He did admit to having an established 'friend with benefits' however.

'What about numbers,' I continued, 'how many woman have you 'educated' since you started up?'

'I don't know came his reply, do you ask a physio how many patients he or she has helped. The number is not important, the success rate is what matters,' he replied evading my question I thought.

'What is your success rate then?' I asked.

'More than 97% of my clientele give me positive feedback', he enthused. 'I know, I can see the surprise in your expression, but it is invaluable to me.'

You couldn't help but acknowledge, the percentages were impressive.

He went on to say he knew it was difficult but, he described the current system as being too remote for some, although he admitted a lot of great work was being done. Some people's troubles however, would be discussed at infinitum but, because it was specifically about sex organs with discussion only, the approach was more laboured, and the successes as a consequence hit and miss. Sex was a taboo subject, your sexual parts were treated in a less than forthright manner, without the same level of clarity, and all this was distinct to the profession. The upshot as he saw it was, too little progress in many cases, ultimately causing frustration for too many individuals.

He wished to offer a more practical instruction, in the same way you would with any other part of the anatomy. For those that wanted it, he aimed to cut through the red tape and try and get to the nub of the problem in a more inclusive, engaging and consensual 'hands on' manner. Not everything would be discussed and agreed beforehand, often he would 'wing it' during the consultation if he thought it beneficial.

I had to admit, he was a fascinating, seemingly genuine and enthusiastic man to spend time with, but I had one last question that I felt sure would stymie him.

'Why only size 10 women of a certain age', I asked as the smiling assassin.

'Simple', he said. 'I can only take on so many clients, and they are the ones I feel I am most equipped to help'.

'How convenient', I responded sarcastically.

Again he took a breath before responding.

Sitting back he said, 'Stephanie, I often get involved to such an extent, that human science and function inevitably come into play, if you catch my drift? I found out a long time ago through trial and error, if I am not attracted to my client, a certain part of me (if needed), has a habit of 'losing concentration'. I am not a robot!'

I sat there open mouthed, more convenience I thought, what a shit!

'This is why I will never go public', he went on, 'your reaction is not uncommon and I understand it. I don't apologise for it either, because I often get involved physically. The last thing I need is a malfunction from my end that sets things backwards', he confided.

I remained open mouthed, but although he'd undoubtedly cut out a large percentage of women he could help, if I was being brutally honest with myself, you could reluctantly understand his specific argument, even if it felt wrong on so many levels. It could hardly be considered inclusive.

He then tried to dig further with my so-called issues, but I managed to sidestep his probing questions sufficiently until it was time to move on.

I will say the food and drink were lovely however, and he was also very good company, making me laugh easily and generally helping me relax and feel comfortable in his company. His charm was a factor, I needed to keep watch.

By the end of the dinner, I still felt uncomfortable calling him Joe or Mr Holloway however, so I told him, I'm here for your help, so I think I'm going to call you 'Coach' for the rest of the evening if you don't mind.

He looked a little bemused but shrugged his shoulders, not openly concerned it seemed.

Chapter 5

Glad rags switched to dancing gear, we left the hotel with Dave and his limo soon after.

I consider myself to be a better than average dancer. I did ballet as a kid, and I'm part of an amateur dance group. Just a load of mates, but we take it seriously enough to enter competitions and the like.

I didn't have any experience of 'lindy-hop' which was the dance he planned I discovered, I had never tried any dance with a close quarter partner for that matter, I was a complete novice. He wasn't however, apparently he had been dancing from a young age, so I was quietly looking forward to seeing him. 'Strictly Come Dancing' was always a good watch on the telly, so if he was happy to give me a 'one to one' lesson then why not.

I wore a shimmering armless burgundy silk top, with a loose pleated black patterned skirt down to my knees. I was aware he would try and spin me around at some point.

I'm 5'6'', so I also wore a pair of elegant 2 inch burgundy and black patterned heels. I thought they looked good but were too safe, he looked me up and down and said I looked perfect.

Anyway, on our way over to this private dance club, Coach had been going through moves with me on a TV screen in the back of the limousine. It all looked awfully complicated, you needed to remember a great deal of new moves that were alien to me. He assured me however, with his help he would make me 'adequate' by the end of the evening.

'Adequate', I said feigning injury.

'You'll love it', he enthused.

The dance club was all that he promised, it was magnificent. Old fashioned or perfectly unspoilt, you could call it either way, but it was large and impressive. The glitz and the glamour, it was all there on show in this beautifully presented dance hall.

'Plenty of water' he said, 'we must keep you hydrated.'

'Wow, this place looks wonderful', I couldn't help blurting out.

'Well, it's been here since the 1920's I believe', he replied.

We were escorted to a private booth, where a bucket of ice held an unopened bottle of champagne. An iced jug of water with lemon sat nearby.

'I thought water and practice before we open the shampoo', he offered, 'it might provide an incentive', he smiled.

'Perfect', I replied shakily.

'Why am I so bloody nervous?' I then said out load.

'It's just a bit of fun Stephanie, don't put too much pressure on yourself, because I am not going to judge you, irrespective of the show dances I know you do, this is different,' he paused.

'Now let's have some fun.'

He first took my hand, then immediately started to teach me dance moves all based around an 8-step repeated pattern that thankfully had some logic to it. The idea was to learn 4 mini routines, so we could then wrap them together randomly to hopefully create a complete dance. He was clearly at home on the dance floor, moving effortlessly and looking dashing I had to admit. He was very patient with me, and I found myself warming to him, even when he started pressing me to be more decisive, more passionate, and less self-conscious.

I couldn't help enjoy the tactile nature of the dance also, he was leading me around a small section of the dance floor to start with. I was enjoying the way he held me, it wasn't sexual of course, but there was an undeniable level of intimacy that went with it all.

It felt impossible for the first half hour, but once I began to let my hair down and be brave as Coach had suggested, the rewards followed. Soon enough it all started to click, and I didn't want it to stop. I was hooked.

In the end, he was leading me around the floor effortlessly, we managed to complete a routine using all he had taught me, which filled me with a ridiculous amount of childish pride. Of course there were still plenty of mishaps on my part, but now less noticeable and all part of the joy of learning with someone who knew what they were doing. I couldn't believe it, it was both exhilarating but also a laugh. We found ourselves in some interesting positions that had us both chuckling away.

I was so consumed by it all I'd just about forgotten why I was there, and furthermore to my horror and confusion I was beginning to find myself attracted to him. I felt incredibly uncomfortable with that fact, but it was difficult to deny. It made no sense at all, I was just another client of his after all, and I had a column to write.

Back on the dance floor, and I foolishly began to feel like a princess, he had me twirling around and spinning to the point where my skirt was high in the air. My bare legs, and my questionably small silk white panties were presented on full display. I was perhaps showing a little more 'cheek' than I should, but as I say, I like a tease when I've had a drink!

I started noticing looks from the 'gentlemen galleries', shall we say, and it brought out the tease in me further still. I didn't know whether it was the earlier dinner drinks or the heady atmosphere I now found myself in, but I was enjoying the attention. It spiked my ego and made me horny.

After an hour and a half on the floor I was buzzing, elated but finally exhausted. Back at the table, the champagne had been opened so I chugged the first glass down in one, much to Coach's amusement.

The bubbles must have fizzed straight to my head because the next thing I know; I'm pulling him towards me by his tie and pressing my lips to his.

'That was truly wonderful', I breathed.

I then started kissing him further tentatively, like I hadn't thought this through properly (which I hadn't), but he seemed happy to encourage me. Soon enough we were kissing each other hungrily, I couldn't quite believe it. I must have been overwhelmed by what a great time we'd shared, but it was also the way he made me feel. He had that ability to make you feel you were the only person in the room that mattered. I was high on the occasion, and high on the close proximity and tactile nature of the dance. The physical contact seemed to promote unwelcome thoughts of carnal possibilities, no wonder professional dancers got into trouble so often.

Back in the land of the sane however, I realised I needed to take stock, seriously take stock.

Champagne finished, he gave me little time to reflect however, taking me by the hand he said, 'time to move on.'

Chapter Six

I climbed into the back of Dave's limousine, I was arguing with myself in my own head space. I knew I had a story to write but, I had just willingly kissed this man, and not just a peck either, a full on tongue down the throat experience. What had got into me?

He had serenaded me on the dance floor for over an hour. In the beginning I was hopeless, by the end I was having the time of my life. He had put in the hard work, and being an amateur dancer myself, I could understood and appreciate the amount of effort it had needed. Despite me being extremely wary, he had quietly but effectively charmed me like no other in such a short space of time.

Perhaps because you knew it was just the one night, and you knew the parameters for which you were there, maybe you just let yourself go more readily. I couldn't be sure why but, the more encouragement I got from him, the more I wanted it. It was like a drug.

I subsequently ignored Coach while he chatting away with Dave outside, I needed to get my own head straight.

That was first, secondly I wondered how I was going to handle my article. I had practically written it in my head before we met. Now I'd met the man, I confess I was fighting to keep the job in the forefront of my mind, while he was seemingly seducing me, or was it the other way round?

I was now sure he wasn't a fake, you could tell, not only by the way he interacted with you, but also watching him interact with others only confirmed it. I didn't detect arrogance, not a hint of it. He wanted to know you, understand what made you tick, then as corny as it sounds, he would then aim to make sure you felt good about yourself, just being in his company.

I then did an unusual thing for me, I pulled out my handbag mirror and made sure I was still looking presentable. I rarely did that. It was the effect he had on you mind, so when I felt I was in danger of making more bad decisions, I realised I needed to start looking at the bigger picture, if only to remind myself why I was here?

I would go back to the hotel, I was just too curious not to. Then I would politely leave and claim the refund. I had no worthy story I decided, and if I let this go any further I might have to foot the whole bill myself. Furthermore, my reputation would be in tatters.

He finally climbed in the back with me and offered me champagne from the drinks cabinet. He sat opposite me facing the front of the limo. He was at ease smiling and recalling some of the funny situations we had just found ourselves in on the dance floor.

Looking back on the evening, it feels like he must have thought that the success of the dancing and the fact that I had kissed him afterwards, meant he felt comfortable about moving onto the next step of my 'education'.

Maybe I'm a bit naïve because at the time I didn't see it coming. We'd had a great time dancing, so at that moment in time I was just feeling good around him, relaxed and not thinking too far ahead.

That suddenly changed.

Topping up my glass he startled me by saying, 'so you believe you have a distant interest in exhibitionism do you Stephanie, shall we see if we can bring that closer to home?'

'What?' came my nervous reply, taken aback?

'Remove your panties, and hand them to me', he continued.

'What?' I repeated, suddenly starting to panic.

I was shocked, stupefied even. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

I looked over my shoulder at Dave, we were now on the move.

'Dave will be aware of a conversation, but the sound insulation means everything is muffled while the screen is closed. I might point out also, that you have your back to him, so even if he had the inclination, he would see nothing untoward I promise', he went on.

I'm not sure I was listening to him, I was still processing his request. Was it a request, or was it an order? I was confused, my heart was racing, this was all because of that exhibitionist comment. How stupid of me, I was ill prepared and I suddenly felt completely out of my depth.

I didn't know how to respond as I looked at him fearfully then dropped my head, how the fuck do I get out of this mess I mused ashen faced. He was patiently waiting for me to respond, looking toward me keenly.

I don't know how long the silence lasted but, eventually I raised my head and asked him pitifully, 'do I have to?'

He must have seen the change in my facial expression.

'Oh my goodness, I'm desperately sorry, absolutely not Stephanie', he cried, 'if I have offended you in any way I am truly sorry. I always study my client's interests and plan around them, more often than not I am rewarded with at the very least, wary enthusiasm. I confess I can get it wrong however, rarely, but it has happened.'

Given I made up half of my 'interests' to get his attention it was hardly surprising.

His response had surprised me however. He looked really concerned that he might of upset me. This bloke was unreal, his first consideration wasn't his cock like most men, it was of course for his client. I loved him for that in that moment, it was as if he was protecting me.

I really don't know what happened then.

I couldn't seem to stop myself. I took a swig of fizz then putting my glass down calmly, I looked him in the eye and let my hands reach down and disappear under my skirt. Seconds later I was lifting my bum and removing my panties. I knew my panties would be wet but all of a sudden I didn't care, my pussy was pulsing, it had woken up and was demanding to be noticed.

I still couldn't believe it myself. What about the pep talk I'd just given myself? My body was making the decisions for me however, it was a new and startling situation to find myself in. I obviously felt I couldn't or didn't want to turn him down, even though I berated myself for it.

I held my little white silk panties in my hands, incredibly turned on but embarrassed over the state of them, and the obvious scent that went with them. I looked over my shoulder at Dave once more, then handed them over cringing as I did so. The feelings running through me at that precise time were just so vivid, it was naughty but at the same time, I found myself turned on like never before.

'Jesus Christ, what have I got myself into', I wondered.

Coach decided to take a slightly different approach from before when he then enquired, 'would you like to lift your skirt for me Stephanie?'

I didn't, I really didn't..., but I did it all the same.

I was numb with excitement, maybe I was a closet exhibitionist, but the idea of lifting my skirt and showing my pussy to essentially a stranger, a complete stranger who I knew had done this with so many before me. But did it matter?

I was wet and horny, and the warmth I felt between my legs meant the decision had already been made for me.

I looked over my shoulder to check on Dave before lifting my skirt oh so slowly, knees held together as I sat back and drew my skirt up shakily, until not only my pussy but my naval came into view also. I couldn't help but look for approval, now I had his full attention.

I don't know who was most astonished. I had never done anything like this before, he on the other hand seemed delighted with the change in me, or was it relief?

He shook his head slowly when my pussy came into view, my trimmed blond thatch now fully on show. I was having palpitations, I didn't think I could produce any more sweat after all that dancing, but I felt goose bumps as I shivered, I was definitely perspiring. I was incredibly uncomfortable with the position I now found myself in, yet strangely comfortable in this man's company. It was very disquieting.

He sat there transfixed, keenly looking between my face and my pussy. He hadn't said a word, but was clearly studying me with interest. Outwardly he looked calm, but I could detect his growing interest. Having studied me until I reddened with shame, he smiled then raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'go on.'

I wasn't 100% sure what he meant, if anything, but I felt he must be encouraging me. I was still caught in two minds however, this was serious shit I thought.

Should I continue, should I go further? What was at stake?

Moments later I did go further, a lot further.

I was anxious, but I was also increasingly aware of the heat I was producing down below. I'd never found myself in a position like this before, I was in such a state.

Was it frightening, or was it exciting? It was both.

Our eyes met and I finally found the courage to prize my legs apart for him, or was it for me? I was still so confused.

I blushed furiously, humiliated yet also elated, as I looked at him still fully clothed. I wanted him to see more of me strangely. I found myself wanting to part my thighs and show my open pussy to this man. Why, I couldn't even comprehend myself! I could be a show-off for sure, but I never considered myself an exhibitionist.

I wasn't used to being on display, but it didn't stop me catching his gaze as I dragged my fingers slowly between my legs, allowing them to travel lightly through my damp labia, over my exposed clitoris and finally twiddling around in the light curls of my neatly trimmed bush. I had disappeared into a horny daze, as if I had been hypnotised.

I couldn't help but look down where I witnessed a tent fast forming in his trousers. He was showing quite a bulge, before he pulled me out of my reverie by saying, 'you are such a beautiful creature Steph, beautiful and so so sexy. That is one of the most sensual sights you could ever wish to give your man.'

Although a compliment, there was always a lesson behind a lot of what he said, you just didn't necessary realise it at the time, as you were so immersed in the position you found yourself in.

'I think we have time Stephanie, how would you feel about kneeling astride me, would you like me to touch you?' he said looking directly at my sex.

Did he just say what I thought he just said, I thought incredulously?

Yet by this stage, my pussy yearned for his touch, but could I, here in the back of a moving limo, was I that easy? I looked around at Dave for the umpteenth time uneasily.

'Yes Steph, although Dave will not be able to see anything, I can't deny he will be aware that I will be playing with you', Coach said confirming my fears, or was it rising excitement?

I gulped uneasily and looked at him in shock. His frankness at times was hard to cope with or even comprehend.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I was desperate for his attention but this was wrong surely. Dave was just there, in the front seat, I wasn't that kind of a girl?

I then distractedly wondered where I was with the article. Article I thought, oh god I'm broke, I'll end up paying for all this.

It was too late for me to stop now however, I was too horny, too much under his spell, and just too plain curious.

I found myself climbing up onto him in a daze, I put my hands shakily on his shoulders, then let my legs slide apart either side of his hips as I leant in to press my trembling lips to his. I felt my pussy folds part all of their own, in slippery anticipation of what was coming next. My nipples throbbed as they brushed against his hard clothed chest. I was in the moment, Dave was now forgotten, and I was grinding my wide open and knickerless crotch from side to side impatiently. Awaiting his fingers, red faced and ashamed, but eager none-the-less.

He straightened up a little as his warm hands slipped below me. Our eyes met, as I felt his left hand clasp and close around the outside of my right buttock, making me shake as he held me steady, his right hand was playing around pulling my pussy hair playfully. I was so glad I'd got a wax and trim.

The next thing I know he has slipped two fingers into my pussy far too easily, and clasped his palm over my pubic mound, securing me further by the hand tightening under me.

'My, my', he ventured, 'where did this flood come from?'

I turned crimson, humiliated over how easily I had capitulated, so soon after my pathetically weak interrogation of him.

He then proceeded to firmly rotate his hand and fingers back and forth with my glistening pleasure button full and central. He helped create a hell of a mess down there, as I instantly succumbed, squirming and gasping before him, my humiliation complete.

As unbelievable as it might seem, in that moment I still felt incredibly conflicted, but perhaps that was what was enhancing the feelings, I wasn't sure. How I could allow this to happen was still a mystery to me. Was I just another piece of ass to fall for his charms?

It didn't matter now of course, as he started to double finger fuck me oh so beautifully, I lifted the angle of my pelvis slightly to help him gain full access, encouraging his touch and moaning with pleasure into his ear. His fingers felt so dexterous I was unable to keep still. When he finally moved his concentration to my clitoris I was squeezing his head to my chest, whimpering and rejoicing in the pleasure he gave.

Fuck me, he seemed to know my body better than me, his skilled fingers had me on the verge of an orgasm within minutes. As his fingers continued to do their magic he felt me stiffen, the man had me 'in heat.'

'Just there', I begged, 'yes, just there'.

'Do you want to cum Stephanie?' he murmured.

He continued to tease me, I could do nothing but surrender to his searching fingers.

I could tell however, he was expecting a reply as he kept me teetering on the edge.

'Please, please don't tease me', I whimpered clasping tightly onto his shoulders, kissing him feverishly.

He pulled back from me. Keeping his fingers busy, he looked into my eyes and gave me a questioning look. I was desperate and he saw it. I give him a pleading look back, of course I wanted to cum and he knew it. Finally brow beaten and desperate, I blushed and nodded my head in shame.

'Is that a yes', I heard him say.

'God damn you, make me cum you bastard', I demanded.

Seconds later he thrust two fingers deep within me, and I cried out with joy. He continued to finger fuck me to a rhythm that I soon picked up, moving with his fingers. He was playing the tune and I was glad to be his instrument. It wasn't long before he made a slight adjustment, and began lightly sliding his fingers in and around my pleasure button once more.

I wriggled wildly on his fingers, then froze momentarily before I went off like a firecracker.

Never before had I experienced such intensity. I bucked and howled, then bit into the top of his shirt cloth to try and control the excessive noise I was making. My hips were gyrating on his wonderful fingers. He was playing me like a virtuoso. I held onto him crying with pleasure as my climax hit hard.

My body shook, as I rejoiced over how good this man made me feel. I still couldn't believe it was happening, and seemingly so fast, but my body only knew what it felt, and it felt good, very good.

Back in the real world I thought. I had just thrown my job down the pan, in part by allowing the 'very' man responsible for that, to finger fuck me to orgasm! I wondered how I could still be feeling so gloriously satisfied.

I just held onto him shaking in the aftermath of my climax, until I felt the car slowing.

All sense of what was going on around me came back into sharp focus, and I instantly felt despair and embarrassment. Not only had all this happened in the company of a third party but, I had severely compromised my brief. It was totally unprofessional. I felt shame, guilt and fear all at once.

Contrary to what was going on in my mind however, my body was still radiating the warmth of an orgasm that had taken me over. It was a horrible juxta position to find myself in.

The cruellest of ironies I thought was; after taking the piss with Rebecca a few months back; I now found myself receiving a 'private & professional' climax from the very sex therapist we'd been conspiring against. It felt unreal.

Furthermore, I thought desperately, I had just been finger fucked in the back of a car by a stranger with another stranger driving. How?, how could I now face Dave, he would look at me and think, that's what a girl who allows herself to be finger fucked in the back of a car looks like!

Coach seemed to sense the turmoil in me.

'Sometimes it's brave to make the so-called bad decisions in life', he said. 'You felt utterly wonderful under my fingers, your body responded beautifully, you are such a sexy lady Stephanie.'

I looked down ashamed so he went on, 'what harm was committed here. You found release in a private place with consenting adults. Feel good about yourself and rejoice, the night is still young, now let's go get a cocktail.'

You don't know the half of it I thought, but responded absentmindedly 'I don't wish to have intercourse'.

'Of course Stephanie, I am listening. Nothing will happen to you tonight that you don't desire yourself,' he replied seriously. 'Please be assured I would not wish to penetrate you without you wishing me to do so.'

Trouble is; I was now buzzing, he now had me warmed up and feeling frisky. The thought of him penetrating me was not helping. I felt ashamed and conflicted, the very notion that it might appeal to me was disturbing.

Lust had clearly got in the way of good sense.

We finally pulled up outside of the hotel and Coach held the door open for me. I carefully exited the limo, squirming a little as I felt a slight breeze waft upon my wetness. Coach then produced my panties from his pocket and laid them on the back seat.

I was horrified.

He banged his hand on the roof and said, 'grateful as ever Dave', as the limo moved off.

He then fired a conspiring grin towards me and said, 'You can't begrudge the poor lad a little stimulation, having had to largely ignore what was going on behind him.' 'Besides', he went on, 'we need to explore your distant interest in exhibitionism further don't we?'

I wobbled on my feet, two whammy's in one sentence, fuck I was out of my depth.

First, I didn't need a picture of a black man masturbating over my panties in my head. Second, it didn't look like he had finished with me yet, and I didn't honestly know what to think of that. If anything, I was a little scared of myself.

I was very aware I was now only wearing my top with bra beneath, my loose skirt and my shoes. I felt incredibly self-conscious, even if no one could see, the Coach and I knew I was knickerless.

I was having doubts about letting this night go further after what had just happened. Was there any point for me now, I had lost my story, and I imagined I would pay a heavy price.

Even so, I was still able to make another bad decision, I went for that cocktail.

Chapter Seven

The lounge bar was of a traditional design, hardwood floors and leather seating, a mixture of timber panelling and decoration on the walls. The lighting was low but sparkled against the glass shaded brass light fittings. The place was buzzing.

Coach had a tall table just off the back of the bar reserved for us, very intimate, he'd obviously been here before.

I couldn't really look at him, little had been said on the way to reaching our table. Clearly I was still high from the back seat 'entertainment', but I still couldn't get my head around how it had got to that point. Things had moved on at such a pace, I was ill equipped to respond rationally.

For fuck's sake, I'd just allowed someone to explore my most intimate space, someone I'd only just met. I'd had one night stands, of course I had, but that was usually down to drink. That wasn't the case tonight, I'd danced off a good deal of the alcohol I had consumed at dinner.

He was like a drug however. Even though I fretted about which way this evening was headed, I still couldn't quite bring myself to end it.

I was troubled and he picked up on it.

'Please don't be so hard on yourself Steph', he started. 'I'm guessing you've had exhibitionist tendencies for some time, but never really had the opportunity to express them. Well if you don't mind me saying, good on you for seeking help, rather than burying your head in the sand and remaining frustrated and unenlightened.'

I wasn't sure how to respond. I understood why we were talking exhibitionism but, was I really headed that way? Was this now to be the way I found my kicks?

'There's nothing better than making love with someone you cherish, but we should neither be prudish. It's good to allow your impulse to kick-in from time to time, whatever form that might take,' he went on, 'having a kink is not unusual, trust me.'

My head was not in a position to respond rationally, so I sort of shrugged in response.

Our cocktails then arrived before I thought we'd even ordered them.

'I'm sorry', he said, 'I took the liberty of ordering for us, they do a wonderful Mojito here, and I thought you could probably use one!'

It was good, very good and it helped me relax a bit.

'Do you mind if we discuss what happened in the limousine Stephanie', he broached.

'Must we?' I countered.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

'Okay, okay, it is painful reflecting upon it, but it was good', I admitted 'and also a big surprise'. I nearly thanked him, but didn't want to encourage him further.

'I also found the walk through the crowded bar knickerless mystifyingly stimulating', I admitted without thinking.

He smiled knowingly I detected, 'I have an idea Stephanie, why don't we relieve you of your bra as well. See what impact that has.'

I was still reconciling the limousine incident and he was suggesting more tomfoolery. He was incorrigible I was again shocked, but unnervingly I also felt warmth permeate between my legs again.

'I can't, how and where, no it's too busy I can't', I replied flustered.

'I'm guessing you're a 36c cup?' he surmised correctly. 'If you were to visit the wash room to relieve yourself of your bra, it would make for a very interesting journey back', he teased.

It was a ridiculous concept, yet also unwisely tempting. What was coming over me, was I really that gullible or easily persuaded?

'Where are the wash rooms?' I said unable to ignore the idea.

'The other side of that busy bar', he replied eyeing me mischievously.

I gulped, was I really thinking about doing this?

I couldn't help but stand up, feeling fear and excitement again, I was beginning to get off on this business.

He grinned and give my hand a little squeeze, 'I feel sure this is going to be fun Steph'.

I looked at him uncertainly as I picked up my handbag. I felt giddy and light headed as I tried desperately hard to concentrate.

I took in a lot more of the atmosphere on my back, past the bar, the place was busy as Coach had pointed out. Many eating, but also plenty stood in the bar area chewing the fat.

The wash rooms were thankfully empty.

I walked to the vanity unit and took a long hard look in the mirror.

I didn't have to continue playing these games, but I admitted to myself that the article was now definitely blown. Our 'sex pest' had carved out a niche market for himself, and although there was plenty to criticize, beneath it all, some folk were better for it. I couldn't help wondering where this all might lead for me however, if I cared to allow it.

I had just enjoyed a crazy intense climax, so why was I still thinking about sex. Thinking..., more like yearning for more. I hadn't considered myself an exhibitionist, but if I went through with this maybe I'd get to know a little more about myself, I thought trying to justify my actions. I had to admit, I did get a thrill knowing someone was either nearby, or watching me?

I climbed in the nearest toilet cubicle knickerless, and came out, braless also!

It was unnerving however, as a group of girls had now entered the wash room, so there was no chance I could get a proper look at myself in the mirror before I headed back to our table.

If I thought walking through the bar knickerless was stimulating, those feelings were intensified the minute I walked out of the wash rooms, braless as well. There were people everywhere, I felt like I was being watched from every quarter. My nipples had hardened, I could feel them poking through the thin material of my sleeveless silk top, I was not particularly well contained in that top either.

I was scared but also curiously excited. My head was looking around me like a meerkat until I told myself to calm down.

I felt alive.

I set off walking too quickly to start with, as I generated more movement up top than I had bargained for. I slowed down and tried to act nonchalant, but it wasn't long before I noticed a few heads turning, or was that my imagination?

My breasts seemed to heave just that little bit more as I fought to keep my breathing steady. I was acutely aware of the motion my loose breasts were making within the confines of my top.

I reached the bar and had to squeeze past some gentlemen, as my breasts made contact with a few, I found myself pushing my breasts into them, rather than shying away from contact. I felt my pussy awaken again, I trembled, it was fun being a naughty girl!

As I found my way through the morass I couldn't help but look back. Sure enough, a small group of fella's had cottoned on and were now openly staring at me, mouths slack.

Did I shy away? If anything I swayed just that little bit more, seeking their attention, or was it approval?

I caught their eyes as I looked back, some were gaping comically, others were smiling appreciably, one fella was clearly in shock.

I couldn't help but blush.

When I turned back again, I noticed a couple of diners whispering and taking furtive looks. More seemed to notice as I cleared the bar area and the room opened out. I shuddered, did that little squeeze and kafuffle at the bar alert the rest of the room I wondered? Thankfully not, but I definitely knew I had an audience when I finally got back to the table.

Coach remained silent but I could tell he wanted feedback.

'I'm concerned I will be leaving a wet patch on the back of my skirt every time I sit down if I keep this up', I joked.

Finishing my Mojito I then said smiling, 'are we going up? I think I need to take a shower after all that dancing.'

Mojito drained I felt deliciously wicked, I was beginning to enjoy myself. No panties, no bra, it just wasn't me. I knew he wanted me to tell him what was on my mind, but I was enjoying living in the moment and making him wait.

He took my hand and lead me back through the crowded bar. The fella's I'd previously encountered, stepped back for us, ostensibly to get a better look at me I knew, but they were well behaved.

Coach was walking slowly as I had earlier, so it all seemed to pass by in slow motion. Crikey my nipples were like bullets, I felt they might explode.

We reached the reception area and I whispered in his ear 'it feels like my breasts have come alive, they feel swollen and ache to be held', I confessed, both confused and embarrassed to admit.

'Wonderful', he smiled, 'the lift can't come too soon'.

As soon as the lift doors shut and he'd punched in the floor number, I was lifting my top up over my breasts. What the frigging hell had got into me. I was wet below I knew, but my breasts needed immediate attention.

I then grabbed both his hands and held them to my breasts.

'Hold me please', I begged.

I moaned and pushed myself into him, desperate for contact. He didn't need instruction, the instant warmth that rushed through my body coincided with his assault. His touch was magical, squeezing and holding my breasts up, so he could tweak here and there, with me moaning softly in appreciation. He seemed lost as he played with them, before he turned his attention to my hardened nipples. I pushed my shoulders back and thrust my chest forward, encouraging the contact I needed.

I was in heaven but wanted more, 'please take them in your mouth'.

He instantly dropped to his haunches, his lips kissed and licked before locking onto my erect nipples, his hands cupping my firm heavy bosom. I was moaning and shuddering, my fingers were in his hair holding him to my breasts, as he nuzzled and cherished each of them. I was so worked up, I wondered if it were possible to cum from just having my breasts played with?

Just then I felt his hand on the inside of my right leg, slowly moving northwards. I tensed, forgetting where I was or what time it was, I just knew to part my thighs, an invitation to explore further.

An invitation he accepted.

As my breasts continued to receive premium attention, he continued to slide his hand, oh so slowly, up my inner thigh until he finally reached my unobstructed pussy.

He looked up at me with intensity in his eyes, an instant later I felt him gently cupping my sex. I returned his intense look and held his wrist, pushing my pelvis forward, welcoming the contact.

Just then, the elevator bell rang and the doors started to open. We had been so preoccupied with each other we hadn't noticed.

The maids head was down as she stepped into the lift. When she looked up she jumped and squealed then nearly fell over. She quickly apologised and backed out, her hand over her mouth.

I had been trying to pull my top back down, while backing away from an equally surprised Coach who was rising to his feet also.

'The apology should most definitely be ours', he blurted out as the doors seemed to take forever to close. As we moved off, she must have heard our cries of guilty laughter.

I'd managed to pull my top back down by the time we reached our floor, even though I'd have preferred to carry on where we'd left off. Not wearing underwear continued to feel strange, but now in a good way. I felt alert and stimulated, my body gloriously on edge.

We jumped out into a quiet if not empty corridor. He insisted we put some of our dance moves into practise as we made our way back to the room. We giggled our way past a few mystified faces, before I thanked him cheekily by lifting my skirt up and inexplicably, showing him my lady garden.

As my naughty bits flashed into view, I knew people would be able to see, but maybe that's partly why I did it?

As we reached the room I couldn't help spilling out 'I can't deny this has been more fun than I imagined, but I must repeat I do not wish to have intercourse,' I reaffirmed.

'Whatever you say goes Stephanie', he smiled easily.

He had got me hot and bothered again for sure, but there was a line. I was hell bent on at least retaining some level of dignity and integrity, my pussy wasn't given away so easily.

Chapter Eight

I walked into our room ahead of him, then turned to face him, nervously wondering what next?

'What do you reckon, a shower, or does the Jacuzzi appeal?' he enquired.

The Jacuzzi did appeal big time, but I also knew it would probably spell trouble, but still I couldn't stop myself wondering back into the mirrored bathroom to take a further look. The Jacuzzi was tempting, especially now he had got me all revved up.

'Shower I think', I said still unsure.

'Need any help', he replied suggestively.

My breasts still ached for his expert touch, we'd only just got started in the lift. I could tell my pussy was interested also.

I was at a crossroads, did I want to allow this to go further, or was it time to leave before I got into further deep water. My head was saying leave, my body was not only saying stay, but was coming alive with further sexual possibilities. I was loving the situations he'd encouraged, could he read my mind, and was he therefore able to provide me with what he guessed I needed? Was he trying to help me further the exhibitionist tendencies I'd shown, or was it now just about the sex? I wasn't sure I cared anymore.

I answered him by whispering shyly, 'we could try the Jacuzzi I guess?'

I couldn't believe what I was saying but, I guess I didn't want the evening to end just yet.

Fifteen minutes later I was sat naked in the Jacuzzi, the jets were doing their thing, and although anxious I felt dizzy with anticipation.

He walked in disrobing as if it were natural to do so in front of a stranger. He was talking but my eyes and mind were elsewhere. Eventually I realised and looked up at him reddening. It was the first time I had seen him fully erect and I was impressed.

He looked at me and instead of teasing me, he apologised.

'I'm sorry Stephanie, I can honestly say you have had quite an effect on me tonight, as is self-evident.

I felt disappointed when his shaft disappeared under the bubbles, but it had served its purpose, I was again horny.

It subsequently didn't take me long to move over and kneel before him, on one of the Jacuzzi steps, presenting my bosom for his attention.

'I believe we have unfinished business', I said thrusting myself in his direction.

He leant forward to kiss me, before squirting some soap on his hands and reaching out to hold my pendulous protuberances once more. I pushed my bosom into his embrace.

Soon after, I stood up before him. Water dripped from my trimmed bush as I presented myself to him further. I didn't have to wait long for his reaction. His touch was assured, and immediately had me interested. I was offering myself to this man, passing myself over to his charge, in the hope he would continue to take me to paradise.

A nibble into the top of my thatch, a tongue in my belly button, butterfly kisses lovingly planted on my sensitive hip bones. I was finding it hard to stand still.

'Would you like to lift your leg over my shoulder', he suggested looking up at me.

Our eyes knew the significance, he would have full access to my pussy. I kept my eyes fixed on his as I lifted my right leg over his left shoulder, and planted my foot on a ledge behind him. I shuddered as I followed his gaze towards my pussy.

'Meal time' he enthused.

I have never experienced anything like the cunnilingus I received that night. He kissed and nibbled my inner thighs tenderly, before he went exploring between them.

I quivered and came for him more than once. He seemed to take time getting to know me down there. He smiled encouragingly as I shuddered uncontrollably under his tender onslaught. Staying had been a 'good', bad decision!

When finally he pulled away from me, I was left luxuriating in the warmth of post-orgasmic blissfulness.

I was weakening however, my defences had been breached, I had to reaffirm my boundaries.

'I still don't wish to participate in intercourse', I reiterated.

'No problem he replied casually, now, more cocktails?' he said rising from the Jacuzzi.

As he stood I could see he was still so hard, I had to stop myself from reaching out.

My pussy all of a sudden felt empty, what could be done?

He saw me looking at him again and just shrugged his shoulders, 'goes with the territory when you're in town Ms Rogers', he joked.

I couldn't help myself, it was the least I could do.

'Do you want me to help', I said timidly, still transfixed by his cock.

'Tonight is about you', he said wrapping himself in a towelling bathrobe and disappearing off to the kitchen.

Chapter Nine

I followed Coach out of the Jacuzzi and wondered back into the bedroom. My attention was drawn to the sideboard in the bedroom where he had laid out all manner of sex toys.

I wasn't naïve enough to realise what most of this stuff was designed for, but I had never studied most of the items before and my curiosity got the better of me. There were whips, paddles, handcuffs, there were ropes, Velcro straps, spreader bars, a Polaroid camera, all manner of dildos and vibrators, a butt plug and what looked like a feather duster!

By the time Coach returned, I was sat on the bed in my white towelling bathrobe thumbing a big black vibrator. Was this the solution to my empty pussy?

I fingered the ridges on the phallus asking myself, could they have made it anymore life like? Coach's movement in the entranceway nudged my out of my reverie. How had I got here, and why was I getting turned on by an inanimate object?

Truth was, after the fantastic tonguing I'd just received, my pussy continued to feel strangely empty. I needed penetrating and this object in my hand could deliver on that need I thought. He smiled when he saw what I was holding then handed me my cocktail. After a taste, I lost interest in the cocktail, my chest had begun to rise and fall with increasing rapidity, as I imagined what this black lifelike vibrator might feel like.

'Why all the toys?' I enquired.

'I don't put them out all the time', he explained. 'Just for some clients like yourself who, although probably aware of their existence, may wish to see them up close and personal, without judgement.'

'This is so lifelike', I marvelled, 'even the texture has been considered. I haven't seen or felt anything like it before'.

I could have been saying this all to myself however, as it just came out as I continued to handle and inspect the vibrator in wonder. I surprised myself with how easily I was discussing such a personal and potentially embarrassing subject with this man.

'Do you want to try it out', he startled me by suddenly asking.

'No', came my instant retort, 'You just want to watch?'

'Only if it works for you Stephanie', he replied sipping his drink.

I was again shocked, but I couldn't deny I had already imagined it. The thought sent a shiver right down my spine. My mind was whirring, but I already knew I would follow through with it. He was pushing my comfort zone again, and I aimed to follow his lead.

'Are you such a bad influence on all your clients? I'm not sure this is what a sex therapist should be offering up as medication', I said looking up mischievously from the vibrator.

I felt goosebumps, was I really going to dildo myself in front of this man?

Furthermore, why was my excitement continuing to ramp up, it was an outrageous notion?

Then again, hadn't everything to this point?

I liked to masturbate and did so regularly, but I had never attempted to with others in the room. Not even someone familiar, let alone a complete stranger.

My pussy pulsed.

'If I am to exhibit myself', I went on, 'did I not see a Polaroid camera?' I questioned, my interest clearly piqued.

'You saucy minx', came out of his mouth before he knew it!

He might have been trying to remain professional, but with comments like that I could tell he was becoming increasingly invested in the outcome.

What was I doing, this just wasn't me?

I couldn't believe I was acting so loose. Be brave he'd said, but masturbation voyeurism.., this was on another level of personal.

I continued to make an impression on him, as could plainly be seen by his bathrobe protuberance, brought into sharp focus as he went off for the Polaroid. Watching him move around was vaguely comical. He was stiff as a post under his gown and I liked that. There's something quite addictive about making your man hard.

I then crawled to the top of the bed and set out all the cushions beneath the headboard, so I could lean back comfortably. I was shaking with nerves as I did so, I had that feeling of being excited but also terrified again.

I finally got into position, the black vibrator was within easy reach, my knees were up and held together as I studied him clipping the film into the Polaroid camera. I felt my breasts jiggle under my gown, as I shuddered.

I don't then know what then came over me.

'Forget the Polaroid, get my camera phone from my handbag', I demanded.

He looked up genuinely surprised, then tripping over his cock, he staggered off to retrieve it from the lounge.

When he returned, he ran straight into a wide eyed stand still.

I had altered my position, both hands were now holding onto a horizontal bed pole above me. My gown was open and my heaving chest stood proud, my nipples were like darts. His eyes fell to my legs however, or to be precise what lay between them. I had slipped my knees apart, giving him a front row view of my excited blond tush, wide open and leaking. I had deliberately presented myself in a wanton like fashion, lost in a headspace of lust and sexual fervour.

I was now under the spotlight, and I didn't want to disappoint.

Once he'd recovered, he tried to do the professional thing, keeping his eyes on mine, with just an occasional glance between my thighs. In practise however, it was the other way round. He couldn't stop staring between my legs and only occasionally realised he needed to look up.

'Like what you see?' I asked seductively.

'Bravo Stephanie, what a sight, what a sight to get the pulse racing,' he replied dreamily.

I was squirming a little, stretching my pussy out for him so he could see all of me. I knew everything was on show down there and I didn't care, moreover I liked it, I cherished it. I was an open corridor of sexual need, tense and excited, swollen and wet, all in front of my Coach.

I've been told I'm a good looking girl, and I know I can attract attention when I put my mind to it, but this was new territory. I was on show, the performer, the star attraction, and it made me shiver with both fear and excitement.

I had been under his spell for large parts of the evening, it was time to turn the tables.

'Is that your professional look', I joked as I spied him drooling over me.

He was gaping, seemingly tasting something that wasn't yet there. He looked like a giddy child looking through the window of his favourite candy store, wide eyed and salivating.

'Intoxicating', he finally whispered back ignoring my question altogether.

I was nervously absorbing such nice compliments, but the words may also have been designed to encourage me to go further I suspected.

If it was a trap however, it was a trap I would willingly enter.

I shivered fearfully as I wondered how I was going to pull this off, could I really go through with it? It was a bit late for second thoughts, but now I was scared, how would I perform, would I embarrass myself?

I was beginning to panic a little when he startled me by saying, 'you're going to do just fine Steph, let your body dictate'

He then asked me for the code on my phone, eagerly anticipating the show I guessed.

'You are one seriously sensual lady', he breathed, 'show me.'

It was what I needed to hear.

I smiled cheekily in return, then handed my phone back to him, now set on video. I couldn't help but remember how appalled I was, having to send swimsuit photos with my application. I had been outraged, yet here I was about to have him film me stuffing a big black vibrator up my moist and neatly trimmed garden of eden! I shuddered at my own complicity. The thought of completing the video section on the application form had set my head spinning with dismay, yet here I was, bathrobe open, wide limbed, and fully on show.

He stood at the end of the bed filming me as I held my breasts for him, needing the ache out of them, I pulled on my nipples and twisted until I cried out quietly to the video. My pussy was leaking, and I didn't plan on keeping him waiting long. I pushed one leg out and lifted the other with my knee high, I then spread them nice and wide as I picked up the vibrator.

I eyed Coach as I licked the veiny black phallus from top to bottom.

'I think I'll call my new toy Dave', I said raising an eyebrow, and running my sticky wet painted fingernails lightly, up and down its length.

He gulped then smiled back, 'lucky boy that Dave'.

I started on level 1 of the 3 vibrator settings. I was playing around in my pubes as I squeezed and tweaked my breasts in turn.

'I want to be filled by Dave so bad', I said beginning to tremble, and trying not to blush.

I was now running the vibrator along my inner thighs. My legs were parted as far as they could go. I was shivering with anticipation, watching Coach filming me was a completely new experience. I was giddy with lust, but believe it or not, still screaming at myself in horror inside, unable to completely omit my project desertion from my mind.

I had always thought, career first throughout my working life. Not only had I failed in that task but it was likely to cost me both 'privately & professionally'. I couldn't believe this jumped into my head at such a time, but the mind works in mysterious ways and this adventure was a point in case, I had acted irrationally.

Ultimately, it ended in a battle of wills between my brain and my pussy.

My pussy clearly won.

We stared at each other for a moment, mesmerized, allowing our physical beings to fall into the private abyss of lust. Anything that existed at that time elsewhere was soon forgotten. Nothing mattered but this moment.

His eyes were on Dave gently humming on level 1, as I moved him back and forth over my parted right thigh.

'You getting all this Coach?'

He nodded, trying to act all professional, but I could see by the tent in his gown that his cock was thinking different.

I felt slutty for the first time in my life. I wondered why I felt compelled to behave completely out of character, it frightened me. But my excitement at that point was overwhelming, my breasts swelled, my tummy tingled and my pussy throbbed in anticipation.

As I ran the black vibrator through my sticky blond thatch, I couldn't help but marvel at the colour contrast. It felt very naughty looking at Dave nesting down there, but it was also such a turn on!

What was I to do? What would any 'would be' exhibitionist do?

'Tease', I thought wickedly.

'Watch me', I challenged.

I then drew Dave up to my mouth and licked the length from top to bottom once more. When I got to the cock head I spent time kissing and licking Dave until he was all wet and sticky. I then tongued the underside and kissed the head, eyes on my camera phone.

Coach kept moving around to get better and varied angles, and I encouraged him to do so. If only because it was quite comical watching him trying to move around with a hard-on. He was taking bigger steps than was normal.

'Focus', I thought. I now had Dave parked outside my entrance.

'Any perks in your line of work', I offered innocently, while swishing Dave around nonchalantly, collecting my wetness.

He dropped the camera phone for a second, and looked straight into my eyes.

'I don't know what to say anymore Stephanie', he offered. 'You have of course given me visual pleasure (as is clearly apparent, I again won't apologise), but more importantly, tomorrow and every day thereafter, I will enjoy greater pleasure knowing you might have found something out about yourself that makes life that little bit more 'interesting!'

'You are such a sweet talker', I replied, then plunged Dave deep within me.

He visibly wobbled, then quickly straightened up as if nothing unusual had happened.

I smiled inwardly, then let him re-focus as I pulled Dave back out of me and continued to play around my gaping entrance, sliding back and forth within my pussy folds. I gently nudged my clitoris and gasped at the jolt it sent back, my breasts danced around as I trembled in front of him. I continued to idly circle the black phallus around my juicy entrance, swooning and luxuriating in the lifelike feel that was Dave.

Time for level 2 I thought, as I searched the dial.

I swear I heard Coach groan as I plunged Dave back into my wilderness.

'You're making it hard not see the job benefits I grant you', he finally responded appreciatively.

The black phallus was now taking me over, and Coach was recording it. I was out of control, my pussy was dictating the narrative, and the narrative was to drive Dave as deep into my sex as I could manage. I was now plunging Dave in and out of a very receptive pussy, while my free hand had found my pleasure button, I was soon about to blow.

'Show me your cock', I demanded suddenly.

He first looked dumbstruck, then began to scrabble about a bit, dropping the phone in the process, until finally his bathrobe dropped open revealing his undoubted excitement. It stuck out like a pole, as stiff as a post and looking delightfully menacing. I desired the real thing, of course I did, but I mustn't, instead I again plunged Dave back into my tight little orifice. It felt so good as it pulsed and whirred.

I couldn't last much longer, I craved as much of this as I could get but, the undeniable desire to climax was taking over. Now his cock was on show, I couldn't help marvelling at it, imagining how it might feel inside of me. I found myself lusting over his pleasure stick.

'Look at the colour contrast, it's such a turn-on?' I said looking up and changing the emphasis suddenly, 'I've never had a black cock in me before Dave'.

Even behind the camera phone I could see he was transfixed over my display, and I loved it.

The vibrator continued to plough my field of longing, reaching depths my pussy had never experienced before, as my hips repeatedly punched forward in the direction of a clearly overjoyed Coach.

I gazed intensely and focused on watching the watcher, he was unable to hide his hungry expression as I swallowed Dave into the depths of my depravity.

I was dizzy with lust and aching for release. Like a train thundering along a track my orgasm was unstoppable. I switched up to level 3 and with both hands, thrust my black phallus in deep, soon I was wriggling around the bed hanging onto to Dave for dear life.

Coach could sense I was nearly there, my pumping action had subsequently slowed, as if to eke out the last vestiges of pleasure I could muster before take-off. I gripped Dave that bit more desperately, seeking the cameraman's attention. I felt like a coiled spring about to burst forth, I was panting heavily.

'This is such a treat Stephanie, let me watch you cum all over Dave', he encouraged.

As my body froze I heard myself shout, 'oh my god, I'm cumming for the camera!'

I was out of control, I jerked and writhed, gasping and trembling all over, until finally I went off like a firecracker. I'm sure my cries were heard in the outside corridor. I continued to writhe the crest of a beautiful orgasmic wave, until eventually I had to turn down the dial, so I could wallow in that blissful place you find after such an intense experience.

As I made my way back to the land of the living, I looked up uneasily.

I was back on my haunches with everything still on display, now blushing furiously before I reminded myself of his words earlier about celebrating 'making bad decisions'. I finally melted down into the bedding casting Dave aside, I tried smiling at the camera phone, but all of a sudden I felt a little uncomfortable, embarrassed in the aftermath of such a blatant and revealing show.

Had the filming made a difference? Did having an audience make me hornier?

The answer to both questions was undoubtedly yes, I had let out a scream I didn't recognise in myself. I had been lost in an orbit of my own pleasure, with Coach capturing it all on film. I was sure to have my hands down my panties when playing it back.

As I sat back recovering, I looked at Coach, 'that was intense', I panted, as if I wasn't stating the bleeding obvious.

My gaze dropped to see him stood there, with his steel hard cock still on display.

He smiled as he saw me looking at him once more. Was I right to dismiss having intercourse with this man I wondered? I was sated to a large extent, but I still didn't feel I was finished, not just yet.

I couldn't help studying his member further, it looked so tempting. I know I had said 'no way' on several occasions, but what harm could it really do, we'd come this far.

Through a cloud of lust I thought, 'this'll be easy, there's no way he'll be able to resist me now.'

Chapter Ten

I had pulled my towelling bathrobe back around me, and shakily took another sip of my cocktail.

I couldn't help but look down at the now discarded Dave, then back at Coach.

I was flush faced, a red hue covered my upper chest from all my exertions. He seemed to be lost for words for a change. Although we were looking into each other's eyes, I couldn't help but glance down to his cock yet again, which remained poking out between his bathrobe, as if looking to see what was going on. Still rock solid, good god man I thought in wonder, how could he continue to torture himself, surely he needed release, was he a machine? I lingered longer than I meant to, so when I finally looked up it was to find Coach smiling broadly.

I swallowed every ounce of pride I had in me and confessed 'I need the real thing Coach'.

Nothing occurred to me other than him eagerly jumping on top of me, and driving his cock straight into my wet and receptive pussy, he was a bloke after all.

He looked at me sadly however and replied, 'you know I can't do that don't you'.

'What?' I replied.

'I'm sorry, I would dearly love to help you out Stephanie, any red blooded heterosexual would, but I would only be taking advantage of you.'

I was confused, I registered what he'd said, but I still couldn't seem to get my head around it. Having witnessed all my shameless shenanigan's this night, a show that made me shudder thinking about it even now. Had he just turned down the opportunity to fuck me?

I was so thrown I gormlessly spewed out my previous response.

'What?' I repeated.

'You've told me on three separate occasions that intercourse was off the menu tonight. I have been listening', he emphasized.

My mouth was now opening and closing, but nothing was coming out.

He was taking his professionalism far too seriously. I felt suddenly dismayed, I needed a plan.

I uncurled and climbed onto my hands and knees, my eyes cast on his cock, stood just a metre or so away from the bed. As I reached the end of the bed, I looked up at him teasingly.

'I have paid for the educational services of you and your impressive companion', I said glancing down to see at least part of him interested. 'I may have suggested a reluctance to partake in intercourse previously, but it wasn't written into any contract, a girl's allowed to change her mind isn't she?' I said fluttering my eyelashes.

He just gave an awkward shrug of the shoulders and said defensively, 'I'm thinking of you.'

Well think of your cock buried in me I screamed inside, but thought better than to say it out loud.

Looking back up into his eyes I decided to taunt him as I picked up Dave again and began to snake my tongue around his length once more.

'I didn't hear Dave complaining when he took care of me,' I pouted. 'He was way better than I could ever have imaged, but there's no substitute for the real thing big boy. Are you seriously planning on depriving me of your educational tool?'

He looked at me sternly hoping it might add gravitas, 'Stephanie, your hormones are running high and doing all the talking right now, I would be taking advantage of you'.

I answered him by uncurling once more, I let my legs part as I dropped them over the edge of the bed. I slipped backwards propping my head and shoulders up on a pillow. I had one hand on my inner right thigh, the other holding my breast as an invitation.

'Don't be so dramatic', I replied, then as seductively as I could muster, I glanced down at his erect cock than back to his face. 'You look like you need help too Coach.'

I was shocked at my own actions, had I no pride, I was a presentable 28 year old, reduced to begging for cock. I was crimson with shame, but my need was clearly greater than any pride I had left in me.

Both my hands were now laying on my upper inner thighs, as if presenting my pussy to him. There was no doubt what I was offering.

'Three times', he repeated staring at my pussy hungrily, 'Stephanie you may have regrets in the morning', he said, then remembered to look up.

I just needed a new angle I thought desperately.

'You know you praised me earlier about 'making bad decisions', I said changing the emphasis, 'and that often as not, it's those bad decisions that end up working out best.'

He nodded a little defensively I thought, then tied his gown back together, and crossed his arms.

'Well, I have a confession to make, but I'm scared I'll regret telling you if I do', I continued.

He was shifting on his feet now, aware that irrespective of his reply I would continue.

'You told me to be brave', I went on as if to justify myself.

'Go on', he said, his interest finally kicking in.

'Well I share an office space for work, and my mouth often gets me in trouble spreading rumours and gossiping. It's all meant to be good natured fun but, sometimes, if I happen to upset one of the young men in the office, I imagine them getting upset and seeking revenge. I'd let my mind run riot thinking of one of them overpowering me, tying me down, gagging me, then teaching me a lesson by mercilessly having his way with me. I have fantasized about it frequently.'

He wobbled a little as I sensed him wavering for the first time.

He then whispered, 'it would be unethical...'

'Please don't make me beg Coach. I need educating, and you look like you are carrying the kind of equipment that I might benefit from,' I said glancing down to see him twitch behind his bathrobe.

'You must know how hard this is for me to say', I added pleadingly, 'but I want you to help me play out my fantasy.'

His ethical stance was tottering I thought as he stared at me wide eyed, it was time to take the initiative.

Before he could answer, I had jumped to my feet and skipped across to the sideboard. Picking up the ropes and ties in one hand and the rubber ball gag in the other, I turned to him. I made sure my gown was open showing what I'd got, I was revelling in the moment.

I lifted my arms aloft with my bosom shaking enticingly, then proclaimed giddily, 'these props should do the trick.'

His head dropped and shook slowly, but I was still able to smile as I clearly heard a deep, drawn out sigh of surrender, 'I have one further prop if this is going to happen' he demanded looking up, but finally giving way.

'Go for it', I replied, just grateful at the prospect of getting 'real cock'!

I climbed back on the bed and started putting the Velcro straps around my ankles, getting very excited. He finally shifted into action standing tall, strong and like me, now naked. He fastened my ankles to the bed posts and then did the same with my wrists. I thought they were a bit loose as I shifted about beneath him, but thought better than to mention it. He then approached with the gag.

'Last chance', he said, 'are you sure you want this?'

I was tense for sure but I was also unbelievably worked up, I had never behaved like this before. I had humiliated myself in front of this man completely, and although I was acutely embarrassed I was wet just thinking about what lay ahead.

I nodded, letting my body make the decision.

Then just as I opened my mouth to receive the gag, I wondered for the first time 'is this wise?' just briefly.

I was too wrapped up in playing out my fantasy now to reason however, part of me was terrified, what had I got myself into?, the other part was giddy with excitement.

As he stepped back his smile turned to a grin, and I again began to wonder if I'd got a bit carried away? It was too late now however, I would be unable to refuse him anything.

'I am grateful that you have entrusted your bound body to me', he said a little too seriously I thought, 'I promise I will not take advantage of this proud position you have bestowed upon me'.

Followed by, 'a little pompous', I thought, beginning to feel a creepy unease.

He smiled as he collected all the pillows up, he first put two or three behind my head and shoulders until I was comfortable and able to look around me. He then gathered up all the remaining pillows and asked me to lift my bum. I did and he kept pushing pillow upon pillow beneath my back, elevating my now open and stretched pussy further still. Naively I had thought the ropes too slack initially.

He put just enough cushions beneath me to position my pussy at cock height, if he were up on his knees I couldn't help notice. Should he slip his knees either side of the pillows, I was his!

My pussy was fast coming alive again, now pulsing and excitedly anticipating another pounding, but this time with the real thing.

It did present my pussy in an alarmingly, if truth be told, and embarrassingly wide open pose however.

My sane mind was appalled at such an unladylike position to be presented in, it was excruciatingly painful to even contemplate what I must look like from his perspective, but I was on display, primed and ready for whatever he had in mind.

My insane mind trembled excitedly, now securely displayed for his pleasure.

I wanted him to lust over me, and take advantage of the control he now had over me. I rejoiced in being exhibited in such a vulnerable position. I was bound and spread out on a plate, so to speak. The back of my head was still pushing warning signs into my mind, but was that also why I was now gushing and desperate to have him penetrate me?

Problem was, gagged as I now was, how could I influence proceedings? I tried pushing my pussy forward, and although I succeeded in making him take notice, I couldn't shift enough to influence anything. His mischievous look at me exhibiting all my wares suddenly sent a cold chill down my spine, what was on his mind?

'You look like a work of art spread out as you are Ms Rogers', he mused eyeing his handy work with pride.

I caught his eye and shifted my pussy upwards the inch that I could, reinforcing my need.

'All in good time my little plaything', he smiled wickedly.

'What', I cried inside, 'what'? Fuck me now you bastard!

Instead, he picked up the camera phone.

I looked at him wide eyed as he started taking photos of me once more. I wanted to object, I hadn't agreed to photos of me in this position, but what could I do now. He kept snapping away until he finally sensed I was looking uneasy about it, and stopped.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I looked towards him gratefully, only to hear him say mischievously, 'and some video also?'

I was shaking my head frantically but it was too late, he was already filming. He started with a close up of my right foot, then allowed the camera phone to remain close as it made its way up my leg slowly, until the inside of my thighs came into view, he dwelt a little but then followed a path avoiding my pussy filming up around to my pronounced hip bones and belly button. Finally he centred back, and zoomed in on my exposed pussy. Though I was acutely embarrassed, I'm sure the close proximity of his filming made me leak that little bit more.

He continued on up my torso, until finally he zoomed in on my gagged expression. I was no longer shaking my head, I suddenly felt exhausted, and now even more desperate for penetration than I had before, I ached with emptiness.

I still couldn't help feel uncomfortable with how desperate I had become however, I was troubled by how easily I had been coerced into this. But had I? Of course I hadn't, if there were any repercussions it would be down to me alone, and the decisions I had made.

'Want to take a look?' he enquired, pushing the camera phone towards me.

I didn't but I felt compelled, so couldn't avoid nodding nervously.

I looked on stunned and horrified at the level of intimate detail, as he played back the video, yet my nipples hardened still further and my pussy pulsed noticeably with want. I was shocked by my own depraved desires, I had allowed myself to be trussed up obscenely on display, yet despite the ignominy of it all, I still didn't want it to end.

My scent was in the air, my body continued to respond with overwhelming conviction. It was time, surely he would take me now.

'Time for my prop', he smiled as I looked at him incredulously.

'What.., wasn't that the camera phone', I cried into my gag. How could he possibly continue this tease, I could see he was still as hard as granite, surely he couldn't resist mounting me.

My now, scared eyes however, followed him as he wondered over to the side board. I was beginning to panic a little.

'Oh fuck, where's this going?' I thought.

He then picked up the stick with the feathers attached.

What on earth is going on I pondered?

By the time he turned around I knew of course, it was a tickling stick.

He was going to make me pay for giving him so much grief earlier, for not taking no for an answer, for demanding I get my own way. This was his way of taking his revenge I felt sure, as fear began to creep into my psyche.

I started grunting at him anxiously as he walked towards me, shifting my body around uncomfortably within the confines of my restriction.

He was grinning as he knelt between my legs and exclaimed, 'I won't dwell I promise, but let's help get you warmed up again shall we?

I didn't need warming up, surely he could see that. I tried telling him, but behind the gag it just sounded like I was whining.

I couldn't stop my eyes from following the tickling stick, what did he have in mind I thought fearfully?

He first ran the feather lightly down the centre of my chest, between my heaving bosom, my eyes popping in terror. My body responded instantly, twitching and twisting as an inevitable consequence of his sadistic intentions. My senses were now clearly on high alert as I strained against my bonds. He circled my boobs as I continued to bounce around, my nipples hardened to bullets instantly, as I squealed and wailed into my gag.

I sensed satisfaction in him as he witnessed my strained expression.

The tickling stick left my breasts and slowly crept across to my armpits with the inevitable consequence. I screamed out in anguish, this was another level, my body was not mine anymore as I writhed uncontrollably under his assault, it was excruciating. Thankfully it was also brief, as he continued down over my tummy before twirling the feather in and around my thatch, watching me flap up and down in my restraints, like a fish out of water.

He was right mind, the hunger had built further, if that were remotely possible. I was approaching near delirium, I would have surrendered anything and everything to him at that moment.

Finally he knelt on the bed between my legs and let the feathers run up my thighs, watching me continue to twitch and cry into my gag before him, my obscenely open disgrace dancing around in a depraved and humiliating fashion, right in front of his very eyes, my utter embarrassment complete.

As the tickling stick continued to explore my inner thighs and what lay between, he swished the feathers at my sex, the result of which saw my pussy, leaping up like a fly catcher. I wailed, ready to explode with shame.

By this stage, my mind was all over the place. When finally he lifted the tickling stick and allowed my body to rest and recover somewhat. I had a serious sweat on, my chest was heaving and I was eyeing him with suspicion. He had taken complete control over me, and cruelly kept me on the brink for longer than I could take.

I summoned up the most pathetically pleading look I could muster, moaning into my gag, degrading myself still further if that were possible, then prayed, 'please oh lord, grant me the release my body craves so bad'.

And as if the lord himself was listening, Coach finally manoeuvred himself into position between my legs. Looking down at me smiling, he began to slide his cock towards my bound and salivating pussy. He looked enormous and fit to explode, I was having palpitations.

'Is there someplace I can deposit this?' he queried stroking his erection within my pussy folds tantalizingly.

I swooned and nodded enthusiastically.

My pussy was gaping and at the perfect height, as he knelt between my legs. He continued to tease me with his stiff member, swishing it back and forth over my exposed clitoris, I gasped and moaned, unable to remain still.

He then leaned forward and undid my gag. I flexed my jaw to ease the ache, but then found myself silent. He'd surprised me, I'd been in the zone, and I absurdly felt a little shy as a result.

'You've told me all night long that you didn't want intercourse Ms Rogers', he exclaimed looking at me seriously for once, do you still feel that way?'

I looked down as he continued to idly wipe his cockhead around my pulsing pussy folds, my heart raced looking at that monster finally sat between my legs. His eyes followed mine smiling wickedly.

'It's not about me Steph, so I need to ask', he reasoned.

'Please don't make me wait any longer', I begged.

'Are you quite sure Stephanie', he questioned.

'Yes, yes, yes,' I replied.

'You're absolutely sure, you wish to have intercourse', he reaffirmed.

I finally found my voice.

'We've already been through this, will you please just fuck me', I said with some irritation, 'Do I need to beg?'

I immediately regretted that comment when he looked straight back at me grinning, before nodding smugly.

Oh fuck I thought, but I had made my bed hadn't I. I guessed this last shameful act of surrender would add little to the long list of regrets I felt sure I would agonize over in the morning.

I looked up at him pleadingly, 'cast your eyes between my legs Coach, that's where you can make that deposit of yours, now please take your pleasure of me', I prayed.

'I'm delighted to hear you say that Steph' he smiled looking at me intently, and the next thing I know, he's in me, to the root!

I've always enjoyed sex and been able to get off most times, but this was in the next stratosphere.

For the first time in my life, I climaxed through penetration alone. Not only that, but he didn't even need to move once he was inside me. He just held onto my hips and watched me as I instantly went off like a firecracker, I bucked and bounced around completely out of control in my restrained state. I could feel my wetness leaking all over his cock and balls, as I continued to spasm in front of his awestricken expression.

He had taken me to paradise. Was it because I was living out my sexual fantasy, or was it down to this sex therapists understanding of how to look after his clients?

At that moment in time, I couldn't care less.

As my orgasm finally subsided, he gently leant forward to kiss me back into the land of the living.

'Thank you Joe', I sighed breathlessly, 'thank you'.

'Oh don't think I'm finished with you yet', came his reply.

'Just give me second to recover,' I sighed, 'but I hoped you'd say that'.

He felt so big and so deep as he started moving within me easily, I was so wet for him. Was it because of my restrained position, giving him access to parts of me never previously reached? Or was it simply the crazy position I found myself in. I didn't know, I just marvelled at his ability to stimulate me so utterly.

He reached forwards to capture my dancing breasts, as he continued his beautiful assault of me.

He fucked me hard, he fucked me slow, he fucked me deep, and he fucked me shallow while strumming away on my glistening pleasure button. He was watching and adjusting, as if he were fine tuning a radio, looking to see how he could dial up the maximum amount of pleasure.

I lost count of how many times he made me cum, he had a gift that I was fast falling in love with.

I finally began to detect he was close himself however. He looked towards me, while regrettably pulling himself out of me.

'Tonight was entirely about you Stephanie, however I am at a point where if I were to continue I would undoubtedly lose control.'

'It's about time', I replied, trying to recover from my latest orgasm. 'Untie me, let me finish you off in my mouth, in the mirrored bathroom'.

Chapter Eleven

Once Coach had untied me, I took his hand, eagerly pulling him towards the bathroom.

'You're coming with me sunshine, you've earnt that tip', I smiled seductively.

The misted up mirrors from the Jacuzzi had cleared as I lead Coach into the centre of the room.

It was really weird because you got to see yourself from a multitude of angles. It looked like I had numerous boobs bouncing here and there as I looked all around me, his erect cock also featured every which way I turned.

And what a specimen it was, I was unable to keep my eyes off him. It stood proud and erect, glistening with my orgasmic juices, looking angry and craving attention.

Forcing myself to look up I confessed, 'I have learnt a lot about myself tonight Joe, most of which I am still very confused over. However, by way of a thank you, I want you to sit on the edge of the Jacuzzi while I kneel before you. You'll never get a better chance to witness a multi-angled blowjob than in a room like this', I enthused, continuing to look around, giggling at how many pictures the mirrors seemed to summon up.

I don't just drop to my knees for anyone. It normally took an established relationship before I might bestow such an honour. It's not that I don't enjoy giving head, I love it actually, but cock worship and swallowing your man's seed, while submissively kneeling before him needed to be earned, and he'd earned it ten times over.

'I can't believe you haven't cum yet,' I went on, 'so I aim to put that right'. I've never seen such self-restraint, but that is coming to an end right now', I promised licking my lips.

'You haven't made it easy', he smiled weakly in response.

We were both naked as he sat down opening his legs, displaying his obvious excitement, while inviting me to kneel before him.

I had been staring at this cock from a distance all night, now I finally had it up close and personal. I loved the size, the hardness, the texture, the throb!

It wasn't frightening, but it was easy big enough to drool over, and I planned to do plenty more of that.

'Are you sure about this', he asked suddenly, 'the night has always been about you Stephanie.'

'Indeed Joe, but I doubt I am the first girl to show you appreciation,' I replied knowingly.

'You might be right', he accepted looking bashful.

I continued to exude the mad passion this wild evening had demanded, desperate now to please this man with my mouth.

'I honestly don't care', I went on, 'I just want to give you the tip you deserve!'

'It's all about you now Joe', I purred meeting his eye, 'I want to drink you all up.'

By this stage, I was fondling his manhood, running my fingers up and down his length lightly. His eyes were ablaze, fixed on my small delicate hands and painted fingernails caressing his manhood.

'Don't you like the sound of me sucking you dry?' I teased looking for his reaction.

'Crikey, of course I do Stephanie,' he replied absentmindedly, 'it's the therapist in me that's at odds with it'.

'Lucky I'm not asking then', I said as I dropped down to get close to my treasure, and his reward. I proceeded to kiss, lick and gently suck his cock from top to bottom and back again, cupping his balls tenderly. Slowly and methodically I took my time, watching each and every change in his expression. He was close I could tell, and I rejoiced in the control I finally had over him.

'I don't know how long I'm going to last', he confirmed squirming a little after my early onslaught, he was already fit to blow.

I dialled up from gentle and started to give him head to a rhythm, sucking and slurping on his throbbing cock with enthusiasm, he tasted good as I continued to give him my most intimate of attentions. Up and down I went, occasionally stopping so I could circle his cockhead with my tongue and look up at him, as I kissed and licked him thoroughly.

Soon I pulled back, 'am I doing okay?' I asked teasingly while tonguing the underside of his crown.

'You're about to get your answer', he said straining to hold on. 'I can't help looking into all the mirrors around us, it looks like you're giving me six blowjobs for the price of one!'

I smiled. It did add a splendid voyeuristic angle to my work, and it made me happy knowing he could catch sight of my blowjob from all manner of directions.

Clearly, it soon did the trick, as I felt his whole body suddenly stiffen.

He was on the verge of a climax and he warned me so, in case I wanted to finish him outside of my mouth.

I didn't, I wanted him to remember this client, I wanted him to cherish the memory and to feel the gratitude of his new found exhibitionist pupil.., Ms Stephanie Rogers.

I pulled back from having taken him deep in my mouth, then lashed at his cockhead lovingly with my tongue. I fixed my eyes on his, as his cock throbbed, fast approaching his long overdue climax. I was also working on him with my hands, encouraging his release.

Finally, I witnessed his eyes glaze over as he groaned loudly. I felt a torrent of semen suddenly rush forth into my mouth, followed by more and more as he cried out seemingly in agony. He was holding onto the side of the Jacuzzi in a vice like grip, his body jerked and spasmed as his crotch heaved forward, sending rope upon rope of man juice flooding into my welcoming mouth.

I swallowed it all down as fast as he deposited it. It was the very least I could do to show my gratitude to Joe Holloway, but that wasn't it, I wanted to look after him after all he had done for me.

It seemed a fitting way to end this surprising and depraved evening, with a mouthful of his pleasure.

Chapter Twelve

Rebecca sort of made me upload this story.

When I got back to the real world, I felt a mixture of humiliation and despair, yet paradoxically, an air of calm and enlightenment.

I clearly couldn't bring myself to discuss what happened that night with Rebecca, it was way too embarrassing and humiliating to admit, I had been seduced and fucked by the Sex Therapist like so many women before me. My story clearly wasn't fit for publishing in Rebecca's magazine, or any other for that matter, unless you looked to the top shelf!

We had got quite close over this project however, and she was more than a little curious and understandably fascinated to know the detail of my painful unprofessionalism. She was consequently either kind, or desperate enough to offer me a way out. She knew I was not financially flush, and she also knew of an erotic stories website.

'Change the names, then upload your story 'in full' onto the website', she announced challenging me as she locked her eyes on mine, 'and I'll waive the £7.5k therapist fee.'

I was flabbergasted. Obviously I wouldn't be getting paid for the story itself, but it was a big sum of money for my confession, because that's what it was in effect.

I am cringing to high heaven now over what she must think of me but, this is as it happened. I uploaded my story, and as degrading as it all felt reading it back, I confess that since then, I have tentatively followed my exhibitionist tendencies and experienced some very welcome outcomes as a result.

As uncomfortable as it is to admit, I had the time of my life with Joe Holloway. I discovered a side of my sexuality that has strangely helped improve my life as a result, so I can really have little regret.

I eventually uploaded my story, but it took a further two weeks before I had the courage to tell Rebecca, my nerves were shredded.

I then had to wait a further long and extremely tense 48 hours before she responded.

When she came back it simply read..., 'application in!'

THE END