I'm An Anal Nympho, Doc!

Therapist Casey Calvert welcomed Jane Wilde into her home office with polished ease, extending her hand before gesturing to the leather couch. Jane settled back as Casey moved to close the door. From the couch Jane watched Casey’s hips, ass shaped by the fitted skirt, and her tongue slid across her bottom lip. When Casey turned, Jane’s gaze stayed below the waist. Casey caught the look but said nothing, only smiled as she took the chair beside the couch. “So how may I assist you today?” Casey asked. Jane blinked, still fixed on Casey’s legs. “Assistance? Yes—my ass is tense, Doctor. How did you know?” Her eyes widened, mouth wet. Casey’s brow tightened. “Jane?” Jane shook her head, forcing her eyes upward. “Sorry. Must’ve misheard. What did you ask?” Casey repeated the question. Jane shifted, fingers clenching in her lap. “There’s something I can’t stop thinking about,” she said. “An obsession.” She started to rise. Casey’s hand lifted, calm. “This is a safe space.” Jane exhaled and sank back down. She tried again: the obsession involved certain sexual acts, ones she couldn’t name without heat rising in her face. Casey waited. Finally the word left Jane in a rush—anal. She admitted it had begun to rule her days. Her fingers, Casey noted quietly, were already circling her own rim through her clothes, unaware. Jane flushed deeper, confessing every partner had refused to explore it with her. Casey leaned closer, voice low. The fastest cure, she suggested, was to give in—together. She would guide Jane, step by measured step, so the hunger didn’t harm her. Jane hesitated until Casey’s fingertips traced her forearm. “I saw you admiring me when you walked in. Nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve imagined this, haven’t you?” The hesitation cracked; Jane nodded. Casey’s mouth met hers, soft, certain. “I’ll help you reach the bottom of this obsession,” Casey whispered against Jane’s lips, “one slow inch at a time.”