Dr. Mendoza demands that Elena put on a tiny black bikini to evaluate her "flexibility." Raúl watches, excited, as the therapist penetrates his wife with force, teaching her how to move on his thick cock and how to kiss him with passion. How far will this therapy go?
The office air conditioning hummed with a hypnotic monotony, blending with the faint scent of incense and polished wood that permeated the space. The walls, decorated with framed diplomas and photographs of smiling couples in forced poses, failed to hide the tension floating between Raúl and Elena. He, a man with an angular face and perpetually restless hands, adjusted his shirt collar while watching his wife from the black leather sofa. Elena, petite and with soft features, wrung her fingers in her lap, her green eyes shining with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. She wore a floral dress, modest but tight in the right places, highlighting the timid curve of her breasts and the contour of her hips. She wasn't a woman who drew attention at first glance, but there was something in her innocence, in the way she bit her lower lip when she was anxious, that made Raúl feel a strange pride in presenting her as his.
The therapist, Dr. Mendoza, entered the room with a smile that didn't reach his small eyes, which were sunken between plump cheeks. He was a large man, not just in height but in volume: his prominent belly swayed under a poorly buttoned white shirt, and his dress pants clung to his hips as if struggling to contain the overflowing flesh. His hands, thick with short fingers, held a file that he dropped onto the desk with a dull thud. "Welcome," he said, his voice deep and unctuous, like thick honey. "I understand you are here for... intimacy issues." His eyes rested on Elena a second longer than necessary, scanning her body with a slowness that made Raúl clench his fists without realizing it.
"That's right," Raúl murmured, putting an arm around his wife's shoulders as if to remind her—and the therapist—that she belonged to him. Elena snuggled against him, her warmth soft and familiar, but there was something in the way Dr. Mendoza looked at her that made her skin crawl. It wasn't the first time a man had looked at her with desire, but this time was different. Here, in this closed space, with the rules blurred by the pretext of "therapy," everything seemed permitted.
"Excellent," the therapist rubbed his hands together, the sound wet and unpleasant. "To begin, I need to evaluate Elena's comfort level with her own body. Would you mind putting this on?" From a drawer, he pulled out a black bikini, so small it would barely cover the essentials. The fabric was shiny, almost wet to the touch, and the panties were nothing more than a triangle of cloth with strings at the sides.
Elena blinked, her cheeks turning pink. "Here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Therapy requires honesty," Dr. Mendoza didn't wait for an answer. "Raúl, why don't you help your wife?" His eyes sparkled with something that wasn't professionalism.
Raúl swallowed hard. He knew this was part of the game, that they had come here looking for something, though he wasn't exactly sure what. But seeing his woman, so submissive, so docile, obeying without question... it made him go hard inside his pants. With trembling hands, he unzipped Elena's dress, sliding the straps off her shoulders until the fabric fell to the floor with a whisper. She stood before them in white cotton underwear, simple, virginal; the contrast with the obscene bikini the therapist held out was almost comical. Raúl removed her bra with clumsy movements, his fingers brushing Elena's pink nipples, which hardened instantly. She held her breath but did not resist.
"Come on, honey," Raúl whispered, his voice husky. "Put it on. For the therapy."
Elena nodded, her small hands shaking as she adjusted the bikini top. The cups were so tiny that her breasts threatened to spill out the sides, her nipples barely covered by the thin fabric. The panties, when she put them on, left little to the imagination: the blonde hair of her mons pubis peeked out from the edges, and the side string dug into her buttocks, marking the crease crudely. Raúl felt his cock throb, pressing against his zipper. Fuck. This is how she should always look.
Dr. Mendoza made a guttural sound of approval, his eyes devouring every inch of Elena. "Perfect," he said, licking his lips. "Now, lie down on the table, Elena. I need to evaluate your... flexibility."
The leather table creaked as Elena lay back on it, her trembling thighs barely parted. Raúl sat in a nearby chair, his eyes fixed on the show. The therapist approached, his massive body blocking part of the light, and with one hand he moved Elena's legs, opening them with a force that made her groan softly. The bikini no longer hid anything: the lips of her cunt, pink and wet, peeked through the fabric, and the sweet scent of her arousal filled the air.
"Feel this," Dr. Mendoza didn't ask permission. With a quick movement, he freed his cock from his pants. It was thick, short but wide, the head purple and shiny with precum, veins throbbing under the skin. Without warning, he pressed it against Elena's entrance, the glans parting her lips with a wet sound.
"Ah!" Elena arched her back, her hands gripping the edges of the table. "Raúl..." she moaned, but she didn't pull away.
"Shhh," the therapist stroked her cheek with a greasy hand. "This is part of the treatment. You need to open up, darling. Literally." He pushed a little more, just the tip, but enough to make Elena gasp, her hips instinctively moving forward.
Raúl couldn't look away. Seeing another man touching his wife, entering her, should have infuriated him. But instead, he felt his own arousal growing, the voyeuristic thrill burning in his gut. Dr. Mendoza began to speak, his voice a distant hum as he explained something about "emotional blocks" and "physical release," but his actions spoke louder than his words. With a hand on Elena's hip, he forced her to arch, pushing his cock a bit further in every time she took a deep breath. It wasn't a full penetration, not yet, but the glans was already well-seated inside her, stretching her entrance with a torturous slowness.
"Very good," the therapist whispered, his hot breath against Elena's neck. "That's it. Let your body adapt to me." His thick fingers intertwined with hers, guiding them toward his own cock, making Elena, with glassy eyes, stroke it without fully understanding what she was doing. Raúl moved closer, his breathing heavy. He could see everything: how his wife's cunt opened to accommodate the intruder, how her inner lips clung to the glans as if they didn't want to let go, how a string of fluids glistened at the base of the therapist's cock every time he pulled back a little.
"God," Raúl couldn't help it. "She's so tight..."
"Of course she is," Dr. Mendoza laughed, a greasy sound. "Women like Elena, so... inexperienced, have the tensest muscles. But don't worry, I'm going to stretch her out well." With that, he pushed harder, making Elena scream, her nails scratching the leather. The therapist's cock sank another centimeter, its thickness parting the walls of her vagina with a crudeness that made her whimper.
"It hurts!" Elena tried to close her legs, but the therapist kept them pinned open with his knee, his weight immobilizing her.
"The pain is part of the process," he whispered, licking her cheek in a gesture that was more possession than comfort. "Breathe, baby. Like that." His hips moved in small circles, rubbing the glans against that sensitive spot just inside Elena's entrance, making her writhe, confused between the pain and a pleasure she didn't want to admit.
Raúl couldn't take it anymore. He approached, kneeling by the table to take his wife's hand, his fingers interlocking with hers. Elena looked at him with pleading eyes, but she didn't ask him to stop. She didn't want it to stop. That turned him on more than anything. The therapist, noticing his proximity, smiled and leaned in, capturing Elena's lips in a wet and obscene kiss. Their tongues intertwined, and Raúl could see the fat man's saliva sliding down his wife's chin, how she, after a second of resistance, gave in, opening her mouth to let him in.
"Close your eyes," Dr. Mendoza whispered against her lips. "And kiss me like I'm your husband. But better."
Elena obeyed. Her eyelids trembled as they closed, and when her lips met the therapist's again, this time she was the one who initiated the movement, moaning into his mouth while the man's cock continued to sink into her cunt, millimeter by millimeter. Raúl watched, his own cock painfully hard, as his wife's body adapted to the intruder, as her hips began to move in small circles, unintentionally seeking more of that strange sensation coursing through her. The therapist groaned, his hands squeezing Elena's buttocks, kneading them with a possessiveness that made Raúl feel a shiver of lust.
"Fuck, you are so good," Dr. Mendoza gasped, breaking the kiss to bite Elena's neck. "Your cunt is sucking my tip like it doesn't want to let go."
Raúl couldn't help himself. He reached out and stroked his wife's belly, feeling the therapist sink deeper into her with every breath. The bikini was soaked, Elena's cunt dripping around the cock invading her. When the therapist pulled back slightly, only to push back in with more force, Raúl saw the glint of his wife's fluids covering the man's member, making it slide with ease.
"You like it, don't you?" Raúl asked, his voice a husky whisper. "Having him inside."
Elena didn't answer with words. She only groaned, her hips lifting off the table to meet the therapist's next thrust, her body betraying her. Dr. Mendoza laughed, triumphant, and with a sudden movement, sat her on his lap, his cock still inside her. Elena remained straddled over him, her legs open at an obscene angle, the bikini barely covering her as the therapist bounced her gently, teaching her how to move.
"Like that," he growled, his hands on Elena's hips, guiding her. "Use my cock as if it were a toy. Like the good wife you are."
Raúl watched, his hand now over his own crotch, rubbing his erection through his pants. Seeing his wife, so small, so fragile, being used by that massive man, being taught to enjoy it... it was the filthiest and most exciting sight he had ever seen in his life. And best of all was that Elena, his sweet and timid Elena, didn't protest. She only moaned, she only moved, she only learned.