Unconventional Help

Opal and Tanya lounge on the couch in Dr. Smith's office, snapping at each other every thirty seconds. The two wives have come in hoping for answers about why their marriage feels like a knife fight lately. Turns out the fighting started the exact second their bedroom stopped delivering any fireworks. Tanya bites her lip and finally spits it out—she's been dying for a threesome but kept the urge locked down like contraband. Opal's jaw drops, then she laughs and admits she craves the same filthy dream. Eyes widening at the same instant, both women swivel toward their very cute therapist, a slow smirk spreading across each face. Dr. Smith blushes hard, stammers about professional lines she can't cross. The wives slide closer anyway, hands tracing thighs, warm breath on her neck. Talk turns filthy fast. They coax her relentlessly until excuses crumble into a breathless 'fuck it.' Off come coats, buttons pop, and the three of them tangle on the office couch—hungry mouths, tongues buried deep, fingers slick inside soaked cunts. They trade turns making each other grind and moan until legs shake and the room reeks of sex. Opal rides Dr. Smith's face while Tanya laps at her dripping pussy; muffled cries bounce off the diplomas like filthy applause. Shifts and symmetries swirl until every hole gets filled and teasing licks push each woman over the finish line again and again, sweaty bodies stiff with spasm. Nobody checks the clock.