My Therapist pt 3

So between my Saturday night experience with patch and the Monday night I’m about to tell you about, I had a session with my therapist that was quite nice. Near the end, patch laid down on her couch and patted behind her, waiting for me.

“if you like, we can decompress this way,” she said to me, smiling. “you can be the cuddler this time.”

I didn’t wait too long. I hopped over the back of the couch like some parkour junkie, plopping down behind her. She laughed, popping up into the air for a second. I put my arm around her, feeling a little confident in myself. I did sweet, little things like kiss her shoulder and her neck a few times. Patch looked back at me, giggled, and nuzzled with me.

“we’re being sweet, aren’t we?” patch asked, kissing me softly. She grabbed my arm by the wrist and moved it south on her person. Essentially, she let me give her the same treatment she had given me the day before, and she had been eager to do so.

The following day, Patch had called me and asked if I felt like having a free session. that usually meant that she just wanted to hang out. I eagerly drove over, wanting to possibly have a chance to get more serious in this scandalous web we were weaving. As I walked through the door, a girl was leaving. She stopped me, looking back at Patch. “So this is the MAN you were with? hmm? you’re a sloppy slut, you know that?”

Instantly, my old fashioned ways were shown in the best caliber they could. I puffed out my chest and looked at the girl. “don’t call my friend a slut. I won’t hit a woman, but I’ll smack a frigid bitch if she’s insulting my friend!”

Patch smiled a little. The girl in front of me, named lala, looked back in my direction.