The Therapist
The Therapist
Gift for Grizzlymidnight
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My name, is Dag Skorm. A black wolf, and a Human-Born. I was assigned twenty-four hours of therapy by the Network (that's the government if you don't already know) after they had changed me, and only because I had a different attitude towards it than the other humans they'd changed. But back to the therapy, I was assigned twenty-four hours over the course of one year and it was the last eight sessions that were the best. Now his name, I didn't know his first but I addressed him by his last name and sometimes his title: Doctor Grizzly. A bear, what an original name too. White shirt, red tie, khaki pants. This guy was massive, the biggest thing in the room at any one time, and based on looks I would say he was at least ten times my size and weight if not more.
Over the first four sessions I would stare at his body without even realizing it, and would have to fight back my arousal throughout the hour 'cause in my head I was breaking every rule of professional courtesy, and doctor/patient relationships. And I would break 'em even more so when I returned home. It was on my fifth hour that I got the chance to break them for real.
Grizzly watched as I entered the room and took my usual spot on the brown leather couch, "Good morning Dag. How are you today?" He greeted cheerfully, he was faking it though. I could hear the stress in his voice.
"Fine thank you," lie, I was bored out of my mind. After the Network hired me for Bounty operations (bounty hunting is my preferred term) they immediately put me on a year of paid leave so they could monitor me between sessions. I had nothing to do until the year ended.
"Good, are you ready for some more questions?"
"Whenever you are Grizzly." I leaned into the back of the couch.
Everything was brown but the walls, carpet, and the top of his desk, which he slowly stood from and approached to shake my hand as per usual. He waddled over to his side of the seating arrangement and I knew that the pen he'd taken from his breast pocket had slipped from his fingers 'cause I heard it hit the floor with a muffled click. It was at that point that my sessions changed for the better.
It was at that point he bent over, HE BENT OVER. I could hear the creaking strain of his belt, and I'm pretty sure that some threads in the seams of his pants snapped 'cause I could hear some cracking too as he, not purposely of course, gave me a wonderful view of his enormous back side. "Damn," when I realised what I said the blood drained from my face 'cause I couldn't hear him moving to get the pen.
He swiftly stood up, "What was that?"
"What?"
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything."
"Were you looking at my ass?"
Shit, "No"
"Now Dag, I thought we were going to be completely honest with each other during these sessions."
"We are being honest."
"Then why won't you tell me if you were looking at my back side or not?"
"I did tell you."
"Well I think you're lying. I just may have to tack on extra sessions for this."
I hesitated, in retrospect I wouldn't mind taking a few more, but at the time,... "Fine. I was looking at your ass. And I'd do it any chance I get."
He smiled at me and quickly picked the pen up, "Now was that so hard?" He sat down in his chair "And since you've confessed something to me, its only fair that I return the favor..."
I wasn't listening, I heard something about a wife, divorce, and him being gay, but I was busy fighting back an erection that would most likely have made conversation very awkward. He continued on about not getting a lot of sex, and being stressed out. So I threw something in about how the human armed forces put something into their food and how it prevented sexual tension. Seemed appropriate.
When I had won my cock fight I sighed, but my efforts were for nothing 'cause at that moment he stood up and dropped his pants. Son of a bitch, "Really? You just did that." All I could do is stare at his half naked form in lust and surprise.
"What? You know you want to." He said slyly.
I stood up, slowly making my way towards him, "I just sat over there and kept myself from getting a hard on. And for what? For you to ask for a fu--"
He pressed his muzzle against mine. Somehow, I could hear what he was thinking as if he was saying it directly into my ear "This oughtta shut him up." I later found out why I was able to do that, but that's not something I like to talk about.
I felt his hand creep up to my head as he pressed into me. Any attempts I could make to keep myself from getting hard were now shattered just like every rule that said that we weren't to do what we were about to do. And the shards were thrown into an incinerator at the precise moment I said, "On your back."
I took his shoes off, well more like tore, making it easier for me to rid him of his dress pants and white briefs. I kept them by the way. I didn't bother with my pants, I pulled my hardened maleness out of its home and lifted his thick legs up so I could push it into his waiting hole. It was tight, made it hard to get a good pace into my thrusts, and I knew I was hitting his prostate with each one. He was moaning enough. I tried my best not to, I liked listening to his as my thrusts became harder, but at times I couldn't help it. Especially when he began to reach is climax. His entrance clinched around my maleness, milking me closer to the very event I wanted just as much as he needed it. I felt his hot seed roll down between his legs and onto the base of my shaft and my swinging orbs. All the mixed sensations drove me over the barrier I had set up to keep our sex going as long as it could. I filled him, and moaned with him as the pleasure filled my body.
He exhaled with a joyous look on his face and looked at his watch to say that our session was over. Every other session after that we relieved each other's sexual tensions until our last hour together. And every once in a while he comes over to my home to follow up on the things we did.