Sex Therapy...Part 3, Open Wide (Adrian)

The deeper she looked into my eyes, the tighter her grip on my rod became. The blood in my system rushed to my shaft as the took her free hand and ran it down my sides and along my ass. An exhale followed a slow, long stroke of my manhood. She was pleased.

"Now, doctor, since you are so used to asking others questions, how about I ask a few of my own?"

A dear-in-headlights look must have been her way or saying that I was messing up her flow. But it was all a plan. Somehow, even my regulars still can't tell that when you f**k with Braylon Davis, there is always a plan...and I am always in control.

"I'd rather not be questioned," she replied. "I'd rather just have you."

Lusty trick...You'll have what I want you to have. And you will enjoy what I give you...

She grabbed me tighter, looking to invoke some type of control, yet with another flick of the tongue, her mind fell back into my trance. Her eyes rolled as we were now pressed upon the other and she began to kiss my chest.

Roaming finger dipped below the hem of her blouse to tug at the button holding her black skirt in black. Not that I cared much for bikini briefs, but she looked damn good enough in them. From what I was told, it was a comfort thing.

I cupped her sweet, firm ass with two hands. Not once had she tensed up, trying to stare me down again so to not lose control. Little did she even care to evaluate that I had already won the battle, and I was seeking to win the war of the flesh.

"Braylon," she stopped me in mid exploration. "I'm not some type of whore like the ones you met in the club. I have my own mind; and although what you do I find somewhat horrendously fascinating, you're not going to fu*k me like some whore that pays you because she's looking for the attention."

Smart girl...but not smart enough...

With a swift whip of the hands, I grabbed Adrian by the arms and stuck my writhing tongue down her throat. See, what the chicks with money fail to realize is that regardless of how independent you may want to be or are, your pu**y is a tool. The problem is if the ni**a wanting to use your tool is bold enough to take it...strong enough to control it...raw enough to master it to do his bidding. Any clownd*ck could fu*k and bust a nut, but if I didn't give this bi**h a good showing, the real problem she had would be worse than what it already was before I propositioned her.

"Now what you are going to do, Dr. Praylo," I said loosening my grip on her arms before hoisting her up to straddle my waist, "is whatever I want."

"See where you have me first fu*ked up at is that you think I'm going to make you pay for this d*ck. Wrong. You got money already and probably lots of it. So if I wanted your money, I could've fu*ked you like the whore you often want to be, knocked your ass out, and robbed you."

I had her attention now. Dropping her on the couch, I stood over her. My penis sat up at attention, strong enough to plow through a wall...preferably hers.

"Secondly, you're a freak. You have your degrees and your commendations and such. But you didn't study sex and theories about it for years just so you could tell people what's wrong with them."

I was hitting the nail on the head. With each spewing truth, her fire burned. I had now lay between her legs, basically stealing her essence. The noises her pu**y made were faint like that of a dog whistle: Only I could hear them.

Easily her panties came off as I broke down her psyche. She wasn't in tears like some of the sensitive hoes I had encountered, but she was concerned yet excited that someone could figure her out. She was probably tired of me talking and waiting on me to either feast on her steamy, hairless lust cave...or at least finish undressing her.

The waterfalls of her body splashed around as a finger probed her womanly channels. It was still daytime and much light to be had on the fourth floor office so I couldn't help but notice the odd, yet seemingly enticing mole that lie on her bubble gum-pink clit.

Mmmmmm...mmmmm...good.

Sex Therapy...Part 2 Continued (Adrian)

Adrian's eyes grew wide as she wasn't sure to stay in the office or wait outside for the guards.

"You can't expect me to believe that you've never seen a man naked in your office before...For heaven's sake, you're a sex therapist."

Ashamed I was not to be in her presence, stark naked with only a smile to greet the good doctor Praylo upon her return.

"I have," she replied. "I'm just not sure why you are."

Who the f**k does this chick take me for???

"Well, Adrian, you have a problem..."

Another frown. I must've insulted her.

"Excuse me??? A problem with what???"

Second mistake: Facial expressions tell more than what most folks want others to know. If you can read someone's face, you can basically diagnose the real issue.

"You have a problem," I replied. "The way I see it, you help people who want to work on their sex lives...people who either want to try to find ways to have better sex or ways to curb their urges to have more sex when it becomes a problem that effects their progress in becoming functioning members of society, right?"

She tried hard not to stare. She was probably taught by a man, maybe a father or an older brother, a teacher even, to always look a person in their eyes. That she shouldn't stare no matter what. That staring was a sign of disrespect. Yet, I could feel her stalking ever inch of my body in her mind.

Yes, b***ch, I came to your office strictly for the purposes to sex you. These abs aren't going anywhere. And the d**k is no imitation. I was built to please pu**y. Look all you want because you're either going to thank me or hate me later.

A buzz came from the phone's intercom system. "Dr. Praylo..."

That must've been the cue that the guards had arrived. Time was ticking as if she could get to the door...

"Just a second, Paula."

Adrian moved closer. Watching her approach, I instantly flashed back to the club when I approached her at the bar. She was upfront about the basis of her intentions of being in a place like that, knowing that sex was more of a leisure activity that could be bought for the right price. She said she wanted to use her experience for a book that she was writing. As cool as she tried to play off my offer to be apart of her research, it was no coincidence that she had left her card at the bar for me once I had left to tend to some business that Colony had summoned me for.

"So, Mr. Davis, you seem to have me all figured out."

F**kin' right. There was that aggression I was looking for. Chicks like her, who want to be the best at their profession, always tend to have issues with control. And when a man who is of equal mind capacity calls their bluff, the more a certain pseudo-male bravado comes out...just to see if the person doing the calling out is capable of making good on his threats/bets.

Not yet fully aroused, but very much excited, I pressed closer to Adrian. Her sweet breath floated near my nose as she looked up and positioned herself to have direct access to my lips...

"Dr. Praylo," Paula interrupted again. "You have a package at the desk."

She didn't have no damn package at the desk. The old woman was just trying to get her out to take care of this issue with the guards. Can't get mad though. She was just doing her job.

"Paula, please sign for it for me. I'll get it in a second. Disregard what I said earlier."

Ever seen one of those cartoons where the snake is trying to hypnotize it's prey and their eyes start to swirl? I could feel her heart beat. I could hear her pu**y get wet just by listening to her breathe. Now that was some pimp sh*t...

"So doctor, while you're diagnosing all these addicts and self-deprived lust buckets, who diagnoses you???"

She leaned up to kiss me. I never gave her my rules on kissing, so she should have gotten a pass, right? F**k no...

"What do you mean," she said. "I don't need anyone to diagnose me..."

How's about I try this again. Seductively, I traced her lips in a teasing manner. Her anticipation for me to fully engage her gave her some indication that I was going to dive into her opening lips and take her.

Wrong again...

"Adrian, I think you should be a patient...that you should see someone to help you..."

She liked my game. Her petite hands loomed near the shaft of my rod, not yet grabbing me but anticipating that she would be able to grab and take it at a moment's notice. She needed that sense of some type of control as the more I probed her mind for answers, the more anxious she got.

"And I take it that you would be the one to diagnose me, Mr. Davis..."

If she didn't know by now what a sly smile and a hard di*k meant, she must really have been hurting for a squirt.

Easily, her hands slipped over my hardness. Her soft skin brushed against the tight skin of my shaft, caressing the beast I was set to unleash on her.

"Yes ma'am," I replied before teasing her lips again only to gently bite her soft bottom lip. "But no more, Mr. Davis..."

Just call me B.A.D.


(To be continued)

Sex Therapy...Part 1 (Adrian)

The middle aged white woman sitting at the desk looked me up and down before attempting to even ask what I was doing in the office. Part of me wanted to check her and tell her something very ugly; but then again, no telling what type of people she encountered on a daily basis, so I figured it was just force of habit.

"I'm here to see Dr. Praylo. She should be expecting me."

As the woman fumbled around her desk to find the appointment book and inform the good doctor that I was here to see her, I quickly studied her mannerisms...the things around her...things that would likely attempt to lighten her mood.

PAULA ERNST

45..maybe 50. Ring in the middle finger so she was married. The wrinkles on her face meant only that she may just be one of those badly aging white people, she smokes, or stress from family life.

"And you name is what again, sir," Paula rechecked.

"Davis...Braylon Davis."

A slip of her face might have been a concern as the doctor's reaction may have tipped her off that I had come in without an appointment.

"She'll be right with you."

Sweetly, I winked at Paula. "Thank you, ma'am."

I hadn't even sit down yet to wait when she peeked her head out the door to see me.

The look of shock on her face was subtle enough as to not alarm Paula that I was unannounced, nor was I hear to really have an appointment with the doctor...at least the kind she normally conducted.

"Mr. Davis..."

From what I could remember at the club, she had calming, dark brown eyes, but the closer I got to her, I got the sense of one of those "what the hell are you doing here" moments.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," I said as she closed the door behind us.

Now the real stuff...

"Um...Braylon, Mr. Davis, or whatever your name is..." she said. "I'm not sure how you found me, but I'm not sure how appropriate this is with you coming by my place of business and interrupting. "

I was barging in. And I truthfully knew exactly what I was doing when I walked in the door of her practice and told the receptionist to call her and announce that I was here. Now I understood her concern, but I was here on a pleasure call. Might take a second since she's one of those intellectuals and she'd probably be trying to dissect me in her head as we spoke, but little did she know.

"First off, Adrian..."

She must have not liked to be referred to by her first name when supposedly on business. Maybe she didn't notice the slight frown when I called her first name, but I was well aware of it.

First mistake...a complex that is ushered in by a fear of not having enough authority in her role as a professional.

"Dr. Praylo, it is..." she replied.

"Yes, ma'am..."

For a few minutes I engaged her about her work, slyly playing off the fact that she really didn't want me to be in her office or that she may have just been uncomfortable at the fact that I may have been assessing her as well.

It was more so small talk. About her life...her practice...her book she mentioned to me a few nights before at the club. It must've been aggravating as she gave some pretty short answers. Maybe the reason she came to the club was to experience the culture, the "life" I live. The sins that get me paid...

"Mr. Davis, I'm sorry could you excuse me for a second?"

"Sure."

Her leaving was just my cue. If I guessed right, she was probably going to tell her receptionist to get the building's security to come and escort me out. Yet, and again, if I guessed right...and my plan works...Adrian A. Praylo would be most compelled to take me on as a patient.

The Pleasure Principles Rule #1: Conversation

Any man can pull out his d**k and stick it in a woman. Hell, my 13 year old cousin, Chris, can do that. You wanna be a major player in the "skins" game (and I ain't talking about golf), you got to bring more to the table than what you got in your pants. Say the average man can really hold himself maybe 30 or 40 minutes, right? Cool. But in my experience with women, and the business of profiting off their pleasure, you f**k a lady that long. You stiff a bi**h or a ho with a hard batch of d**k, 10-15 minutes tops, and you send her on her merry way. That's just the way of the world.

Yet, where does the money come into play?

Hold on, my friend...I will get there.

Haste will obviously be your biggest problem.

When you f**king with a LADY, especially one in a metropolitan city like Atlanta, you have to realize that d**k comes a dime a dozen. She can toss a quarter in the street and hit a ni**a that wants to f**k within the first 5 minutes (if that long). He could be a pizza delivery guy...a dope boy...a CEO of a Fortune 500 company...or another bum ass ni**a.

You...you're just ordinary. A 9-5 job...a $25,000 car...barely enough $$$ to get into a decent club, let alone VIP.

And yet, how does she choose?

Conversation.

It's what separates all men. The type of women I serve as clients to my business automatically know they can use their money, power, and pu**y to get anything they want. They stalk the grounds like a confident man does when he enters a boardroom knowing he is about to seal a big deal. They laugh at meager attempts to buy their affection or time by offering to buy rounds of drinks for her and her girls. And when they go home to their empty condo or to their limp-natured husbands, the one thing they forgot to ask was:

How was your day?

The power of engaging a woman in a decent conversation is almost like a lost art; however, when you are able to hold your own on topics ranging from politics to religion to sports to the Wall Street Journal, a woman will gladly pay for that. She is intrigued by a man that does more than peer into her blouse to get a peek at her breasts even though they are clearly showing. She checks your intentions before you even walk over to her, yet mix a tantalizing convo with a bit of charm, and the fire is already lit within her inner walls.

She rides your d**k like there is no tomorrow. She sucks, f**ks, and bucks you like she hasn't had a man in years.

It's not that she can't have it. It's not that she can't get it. It's about a man who is pleasing to the mind. Not that physical aesthetics aren't just as pleasing, but with d**k being so easily available, being able to ease her mind with meaningful banter rather than barbaric advances of lust is worth it's weight in gold.

And I do mean GOLD....

Ask about me.

B.A.D.

Rolling Like a Big Dog: Pays to Be Me...

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her flowing mane bounced around at each buck against her waist Thunderous beatings against her backside echoed the living room. Dyci bucked like an animal trashing around in a cage that didn't want to be in. It was like the more I pounded her, the more punishment she wanted to receive. It wasn't as if I didn't normally f**k her for the top dollar piece of ass that she was, but when she was "rolling" on the "E," Colony's baby girl and number one money trap was a beast on that D.

I had popped a few pills when I was in college. Hell, even now, I tossed a few back in recent years, but it wasn't something that I just had a regular habit to get on it. This bi**h that met in college...one of those black girls who grew up with a bunch of white people, doing white people sh*t like dating redneck white boys with mud tires on their pickups or play club soccer in high school. But she was a young, freak b**ch and she liked to bang, especially when she was on "E," so why not try it.

"F**kitf**kitf**it," mumbled Dyci as her back sweat ferociously from the onslaught. When you pop pills, the high gets so intense that you can f**k for hours and not bust. Nigs hear stories like that all the time, but they truly don't know until they've been there.

It may have only been thirty minutes or so but it seemed like we had been going for hours. My pelvis was so raw from the constant banging that I just wanted to...

STOP.

A deranged and confused Dyci gave me a blank stare as I had abruptly whipped my d**k out and walked over to the refrigerator to grab a bottled water without so much giving her any kind of warning.

"What...what's wrong?"

"D, I'm tired...sh*t, I'm hot."

Dyci seemed to float as she pulled up next to my side and grabbed my penis.

"Oooooh, baby, I gotta finish," she pleaded. "Just a lil more. Get me off."

Druggie b**ch.

You know those scenes in those ghetto ass movies like New Jack City where the addict really pours it on thick for a hit of the dope...well, that's how Dyci was acting.

Now I would always be proud that my di*k is probably like none of the tricks she took for their money, but then again, that ecstasy gives you this adrenaline rush ten times faster than anything because it was one of those 2 in 1 type drugs - speed and the lowest grade of coke.

All the signs where there, and while I preferred to just come crashing down from my high, Dyci continued to jack me standing up, hoping that I would give in and just continue to smash her.

"Dyci, chill, baby girl..."

She wouldn't be denied even with another resounding decline of her wares, dropping to her knees on the marble floor and polishing my knob like some kind of slutty maid. Her lips rippled across the length of my wand, bobbing back and forth as if her face had the energizer bunny built inside. Dying from the pleasure, I wanted so bad to let go in her mouth. Probably would've choked her with all that damn build-up. Again, I had to stop...

"No..."

I had seized her face in mid slide and held her head at waist's length, just enough that she couldn't do any more damage or even worse, clamp her teeth down on my d**k and hurt me.

Sad puppy dog eyes...B**ch, that game works on a nigga paying you for pu**y.

An evil twinge groped my loins as I attempted to ease away from her mouth. She knew that I was stubborn so as i slowly slid out, her lips complied with my demand. 3/4 of me was out when suddenly I rammed back into her orals and pounded my torso against her face. You could imagine the delectable horror in her eyes as she looked up at me and wondered where this had come from.

"You like when Daddy does that, don't you..."

A moment of "what the f**k" had seriously struck Dyci. She must have been thinking "I may be high, but this nigga must be out of his f**king mind..."

But her pu**y tingled as I didn't give her to much more time to think, pounding her mouth again as I had banged her before.

Silence...

Another bang...then more silence...

"You like???"

Lust braced a smile against her filled jaws, hoping that I would just continue and stop teasing her...

"Mhmm," she moaned.

While I toyed with her, Dyci, feverishly rubbed hit clit, trying to figure out which was the more feasible of the two if both needs weren't getting served simultaneously.

Jokingly, I laughed in her face and took another sip of my water. "I should get paid for some sh*t like this."

As if I already wasn't from my other clients.

There was that stare again. And this time it was harder.

Dyci quickly caught her bearings, got up, walked over to her jacket, and fumbled around for a few seconds.

"D...come on. I'm just messing with you."

She stalked back over to kitchen counter, slamming her hand against the granite counter top.

500 dollars...

Dyci? Offering me money? Was it the drugs? Was she fed up with...

Watching her brace her leg against a bar stool, the pink lips of her womaness looked as inviting as it always have. Her drug-induced rage had her groping her own breasts like a horny man would...

My mind raced with the beat of my heart as a rush of blood kept my manhood at attention. The only time I ever heard that "all money wasn't good money" was when I used to play dominoes with my drunk ass uncles.

So B.A.D.

BAD, BAD, and more BAD (BAD BAD Man..the ending)

A playa hadn’t even stuck a finger down there, but I could tell by her breathing that the pu**y was wet with anticipation. I could literally breathe on her and she would’ve been likely to bust a nut. S**t was getting exciting as hell. A rush of adrenaline was filtering from my heart down to my manhood.

“Braylon…”

Fuck!!!! What the fuck is it!?!?!

“Karima…what is it, lady?”

She stopped to catch her breath for a moment. Kinda sounded like she had been running a marathon or something.

“I’m…oh damn, boy…It’s just that we’re here. Alone. And I’m…I’m scared.”

Scared??? Scared of what?

“Have I ever given you a reason to be scared of me?”

“No…”

Slowly, I circled Karima until she could feel me from behind. My shaft lay between the creases of her cheeks. Her back tightened at the touch while he legs seemed to loch and her ass went firm. Jitters, nerves of the unknown pleasures I was sure to provide…pleasure that she had handsomely paid for.

“And do you think after all this time that I would hurt you?”

“No,” she sighed. “But it’s just this thing. We hadn’t seen each other in so long. I had no idea that things were gonna come to a head so soon. I mean…I want you. Oh, damn, I want you so bad…”

Dragging a stiff member around the edges of her hips and back to the front, I was nearly fu**ing her already and I had yet to stick anything in. Underneath a silky mound of light hair, her folds lay atop the head of my d**k. Had they been able to talk, they would have probably given just as much vocal resistance to go along with a yearning to let me in.

I kissed Karima again, tasting her tongue a bit longer. It was lusty, yet the feelings were mutual. This was supposed to happen. Arranged or not, I was bent on being inside her.

Her pink flesh split like a treasure box, revealing the softest place of her womanly core. As I slid in between her space, inch by inch, it was as if her body forced her to draw me in more until I filled her reluctant desires to give in to the sexual rapture.

Slow thrusts passively ripped her doubts down from the walls of her honeycomb and her nectar spilled over onto me like a river.

“Braylon…”

“Mmmm…”

“Braylon…”

I loved it when they called my name. I didn’t give a damn whether they were screaming it or not, I just loved the sound of my name draping from the lips of another satisfied customer.

“Yes…”

“Braylon…I can’t…”

Can’t what?!?!

That sh*t startled the hell out of me. I’m knee deep inside you and you can’t…Can’t what?!?! Can’t see? Can’t breathe? B**ch, you better speak up…

“Can’t what?”

I stopped my strokes, not getting from atop her just in case she changed her mind, but just enough to look as if I was attentive to what she wanted to say.

“This just ain’t right,” she said. “I’m…I’m engaged.”

Now there is an old saying that my grandmother used to tell me: If you’re not married, you’re single.

Mind you she was never married, but Granny was smart as hell. But I wanted to think about this.

Here was this beautiful blast from my past. I’m inside of her, literally taking her with each pump, and she wants to tell me that she was engaged?

Damn, that was a shocker. And truth be told, I really didn’t give a f**k. And she continued to put up that fight while I pumped…and pumped…and pumped.

It wasn’t her p***y that gave out as she bucked back at my fierce release against her very being. It was her spirit, her mind that gave in to the demand for the flava…

On my d**k, she was free from the rest of her mundane life. She had a choice…like they all do…

And she chose to be B.A.D….

A BAD, BAD Man...(part 2)

So…where did I leave off? The talk, right?

Trust me, you wouldn’t have given a damn what we were talking about. You want the sex part. The lusting…busting nuts all over the place…the pleasing screams that you yearn for in your own lives…

Sh*t, what else should I get paid for…because if you were Karima, you’d want me to get down to the chase too.

Neither she nor I had yet to turn on any lights in the room, but it was nothing to feel each others presence. Just that hint of déjà vu in the air. I couldn’t help but think that this time, I was going to have her all my own. Even with the ignorance floating around outside, I was going to take her body for all it was worth and leave just as sure as I came…no pun intended.

“Braylon?”

See…It’s stuff like this. Seriously I thought we were done talking. This wasn’t making up for lost time.

“Yes, ma’am…”

Karima sighed. “What am I doing here?”

Are you f**king kidding me?!?!? This s**t?!?! Right now?!?! Be cool, Bray. Be cool.

“You’re here with me. That should be all that matters”

Things did seem to go sort of fast. From our place on the couch, just two old friends chatting and catching up, to the two of us being alone in a dark room with very little space between us.

I couldn’t tell what was racing in her mind, but her body was speaking tongues to me and they were loud and clear. Her hips fit right in between the grooves of my hands while my fingertips sat slightly at the rise of her ass. The heat of the night had beckoned her to come closer, to finally make it happen; yet, something was still pulling her back.

“Braylon…”

I purposely ignored her call just to move in closer to her. Considering I was taller than her, she still had to look up to me—even with the lights out.

I could’ve whipped her around like I’ve done with some of my “marks” before and just banged her like some rich whore; however, this was something I wanted to savor. Sh*t, I’m entitled to a sensual f**k every now and then.

She exhaled like Whitney Houston as she seemed to breathe in my essence. Still, I felt her pulling away until she finally slipped out of my grasp.

“Braylon, I—I—I know that I have you here and we have this history. And the last time we were alone…Just—Just so many things…”

This wasn’t sounding good. All that damn stuttering sounded like she was about to hit me with some sort of news that was hazardous or something. I was going to have to act quick. This chick was not going to get away from me this time. I mean even though I’m going to get paid, this was a long time coming…

Can’t ya tell how bad I wanted this b**ch to keep saying how long it’s been or how I shoulda/coulda/woulda? Pathetic, right? N***a, please. I’m a pimp.

She couldn’t get out another word before I swept her back into my grasp. She squirmed like a fish, but her lips part opened so easily as I worked her like the world was going to end in a matter of seconds. Her other set of lips you just as easily be parted later. The passionate rage grew within us as I could feel her body get warm and her kisses were becoming just as deep as mine. Instantly, we had peeled one another’s close off. The two of us were standing there.

Naked. Ready to f**k. Sealing a long awaited deal.

I reached out to touch her again; and although it wasn’t cold in the room, she flinched as I ran a finger across her nipple. A twinge of sin crashed against her brain as I touched the other. I could see everything in the midst of nothing at all.

“Braylon…I need to…”

Too many words had been spoken…

In an effort to ease her tension, I kissed her again. The type of kiss that rolls over the cusp of your teeth, tracing the lips just before a luscious bite of twisted greed. I stepped back for a second…just for the reaction.

She smiled wide like she hadn’t been kissed like that in some time. Obliged, she grabbed my wrists. She had feared if she took this any further, some sense of regret might linger..just as her brown, chocolate drop nipples were lingering in my mouth in that very moment.

Karima breathed deeply. While a roaming right hand embraced her right breast, my focus remained on the other, teasing her wilds with an irregular suction pattern that her erect nipples would only feel more pleasure as she tried to remove them from my mouth…

(To be continued)