Housewife's Nympho Therapy

Cory Chase is stretched out on the couch in Van Wylde's home office, legs crossed like she's got nowhere else to be. Van's scribbling the occasional note while she tells him these late-night dreams have made her realize her husband just doesn't cut it anymore. Van arches an eyebrow, tells her those must've been some damn powerful dreams, and asks her to spill the details. She's pink-cheeked but keeps going, calls the dreams wild and vivid. Van nods, says this is a safe space, and if she feels weird about him watching she can shut her eyes while she talks. She closes them. The words start rolling: cocks in every position, one stranger after another, her being a straight-up cock slut for all of them. Her language gets dirtier the deeper she goes. Van stops writing. His hand drifts to his lap, grips his cock through his pants, then frees it. He strokes slow while she keeps painting the picture, eyes squeezed shut. Then Cory pops them open to ask something and there he is, cock in hand. Van's mouth opens to apologize, but she puts a finger on his lips. "Maybe I should just do what the dreams say," she breathes, already moving closer, "and finally let this nympho out."