Page 82 of Rather: The Therapist

“Back where?”

He touched himself, blowing my mind with every stroke of his hand.

“Inside of me.”

“How, Rose? How do you want me inside of you?”

“Just like thaaaat,” lowly, I beseeched.

He lessened the space between us. His skin met mine, catapulting me into the land of doom. We were both playing a very dangerous game, but the risk was worth the reward. Without a barrier, Priest slid his thickness against my slit, lubricating it with my secretion.

“Like this?”

“Yessssss. Yes. Like that. Just like thaaaa–”

Priest entered me. Skin to hymen. With one hand beside my head and the other around my waist, he stirred the ingredients inside my pot. His eyes lowered. He was unable to continue the gazing. He was losing the uphill battle. He was weakening.

Without warning Priest, I prepared for the inevitable. With each stroke, I climbed higher and higher, in anticipation of my peak.

“Eyes,” I pled with Priest. “Eyes.”

I was speaking out of turn but my rebellion would lead to my revolution. He had to understand. Those irises were the end of me and I was desperate for my demise.

“Eyes.”

There they were. In all their true glory. My center caved and grew more slippery. More vocal. Deeper. Warmer.

“Ummmmmmm–”

I slammed my eyes shut for only a moment. I reopened them as my orgasm crowded my central systems, increasing my sensitivity. My head lifted from the bed, slightly, to see just how much of my womanhood was releasing onto Priest’s manhood. He was covered.

The view intensified my elation and I began to truly unfold. To blossom. To bloom. Like a garden in the spring, I came to life.

Abruptly, Priest dislodged. He rested his pole against my clit as it pulsated, hungrily attempting to extract him of his goods.

“Urrrrrrgh.”

His grunt signified the nearing of his ending. The sperm waiting in his vas deferens was anticipating his eruption, ready to exit through his shaft and fill me with responsibilities I wasn’t ready for.

“Fuck.”

Back and forward, Priest began to rock, massaging himself in the folds of my vagina. His limbs grew stiffer. His features stretched, putting his thoughts on full display. His breathing was no longer steady.

“Shit. Shit.” He rounded his spine as he repeated, lowly.

Suddenly, his sprout released his load. Semen pierced the air before falling onto the skin of my bald pussy and down his erection.

The warm water cascaded down my head, neck, and back. The fuss of it all, reluctantly happening right in my head, caused me to grow weary. I snuggled the oversized sponge against my chin and mouth wondering what consequences would become of my actions and how disappointed Chemistry would be if he knew where I was, what I’d just done, and who I was with.

It wasn’t the man my family had promised me to. It was the man my family had promised. And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he felt so good when he was so wrong.

“Speak,” Priest coaxed, softening his tone. “Freely.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t find his eyes. Shame consumed me. Dread filled me. Anxiety tried drowning me. I was in the depths of despair as the water’s height grew taller around me. I wasn’t sure if I’d be pulled to shore or swept away with the tides. The only thing I knew was the journey had just begun.

“I have nothing to say,” I admitted with a hump of my shoulders.

For the first time in my life, I was leading with the one thing my family despised as a whole. Feelings. They were the beginning of every end. It was proven.

---