My Sex Therapist: Part One

Elle woke up to a text from an old hookup and felt her clit twitch before she even opened the message. She's supposed to be the happy newlywed, but a slick finger against her own folds told the truth: her cunt wanted pussy, not her husband's dick. So she marches straight to Celeste Star's office— hottest shrink in town, sharp jaw, dangerous smile. Sitting across from her, Elle spills it all. Celeste listens, then cuts right through the bullshit: 'You need a woman who already knows your body. You need someone who can eat you the way you crave.' Elle bites her lip. Where the hell would she find someone like that? Celeste stands, steps in, tilts Elle's chin, says it plain: 'Right here. You still wet?' Elle's thighs open like an invitation. Skirt up, panties down— Celeste drops to her knees, drags her tongue along Elle's slit, and sucks her clit slow and filthy. Elle gasps, grabs fistfuls of hair, hips bucking. Every lap is filthy and sure, slick sounds filling the quiet office. This isn't therapy talk; this is the hottest, dirtiest treatment Elle's ever had. She came to the right goddamn place.