Lesbian PsychoTherapists #01

She pins him to the mattress before the hour ends. Her mouth tastes like the last question she asked him, the one he never answered. Clothes come off too fast. He watches her breasts shake as she climbs on top, settles, takes him in a single slow drop. He reaches up, grips her waist, feels the tremor in her thighs when she moves. Nothing stays hidden; the way she clenches, the wet sound every time she grinds down, his own ragged breath catching in his throat. She bends and bites his lip. Sweat slips down her spine and into the small of her back where his palms rest. She doesn't ask if it's okay; she knows it is. He comes with his face against her throat, pulse knocking hard enough to hurt. Later, he stares at the clock, breathing like he just ran through her entire couch and then the floor beside it. She reaches for the appointment book still on the nightstand. "Same time next week?" she asks, already turning the page.