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Forty-Seven
Dr. Dangerfield ran her fingers through her hair, trying to process all she’d been told by Kendall while at the same time keeping her panties on. She wanted to give him some pussy. Fuck his embarrassment away. She wanted to empty out his balls, come all over his dick, then wash him with her tongue. But instead, she remained poised and professional as she sat on the sofa across from him; her nipples tightening beneath her lace and silk-clad breasts as he spoke.
There was a quiet sexiness about Kendall that made her inner walls clench with want. She felt her cunt juice trickling out of her body, dewing around the folds of her swelling sex. The erotic imagery of him pleasuring himself played vividly in her mind’s eye as he shared bits and pieces of what had transpired between him and Krista.
Although he hadn’t shared much in any of the group sessions, Kendall surprisingly felt comfortable with Dr. Dangerfield. So when she pressed him as to why his wife would question his sexuality, he felt compelled to confess to her, believing she’d hold no judgment in her eyes toward him.
And she hadn’t.
Still, he would have never expected to be here. In her office, confessing.
When he’d left the villa, he’d walked aimlessly for nearly twenty minutes before he finally landed at her office, shouldering his duffle bag. Now he sat here kicking himself, thinking if only he’d gotten up from the bed after the first nut. He wouldn’t be in this mess. Krista wouldn’t have caught him with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar—or in this case, his finger in his ass.
And he’d still be hiding his desires from her, while living his secret sex life.
“Shit,” he muttered, but the word was low and without malice.
Dr. Dangerfield gave Kendall a look, one she hoped appeared to be full of compassion and not lust, even if she wanted to leap from her seat and kiss him hungrily.
Kendall’s eyes shifted to the naked sculpture and then back to her.
“What do you see when you look at that statue?” she asked.
Kendall glanced at it again, this time really seeing it and said, “Freedom.”
Dr. Dangerfield smiled. “There’s nothing like having the freedom to step into your own sexual truths, to be sexually liberated. Repression and silence can slowly kill a relationship. But now that you’ve been found out, sort to speak, hopefully your wife will see things clearer after a day or so, and give you an opportunity to explain. I can help facilitate the process in a couples’ session. Perhaps help her understand that there is nothing remotely gay about a heterosexual man enjoying anal play . . .”
She caught herself looking at Kendall’s hands, wondering which finger it’d been probing his ass. God—if she could have been a fly on the wall. She couldn’t wait to get to her surveillance room to roll back the camera.
She swallowed the drool pooling inside her mouth.
“She says she’s filing for a divorce,” he added. “And thinks I’m gay—or as she said, ‘some down-low homosexual.’?”
That silly bitch, Dr. Dangerfield thought. How could she part her lips to call this six-foot-one hunk of sexy man gay? Then want to divorce him? Dumb bitch has a freak for a man and she doesn’t know what to do with him. Well . . . good riddance to the lazy-fuck.
“That is unfortunate,” was all she said.
“The crazy thing is,” Kendall continued. “I wish I could rewind the clock and this morning never happened.” Kendall looked nostalgically sad. “I love my wife. But . . .”
“But?” Dr. Dangerfield gently prodded.
Kendall sighed. “I wanted to believe Krista and I had a good sexual connection because of the amount of sex we have—had. But I couldn’t bring myself to share with her my interest in . . .” He shook his head, not wanting to finish the words.
“Anal play,” Dr. Dangerfield answered for him.
Kendall nodded. “Yeah.”
Dr. Dangerfield understood. “And now . . . here you sit.”
Kendall slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. Here I sit.” He pushed out a breath. “And I’m the one who convinced Krista to come on this trip, practically begged her, selling her the idea that coming here would enhance our love life, bring us closer sexually. Now look at us.” He laughed at the irony of it all and lowered his eyelids to hide his chocolate-brown eyes.
Dr. Dangerfield’s clit throbbed and she pressed her thighs together, crossing her legs at her ankles. “I always stress the importance of couples being able to talk openly about sex—all kinds of sex. About urges, curiosities, and dark desires. Because when partners cannot openly and comfortably share their sexual wants/needs, then they will ultimately find a way to find it—and get it—elsewhere.”
Dr. Dangerfield kept her eyes on Kendall, and when he looked away from her, she knew he’d already found what he needed in someone else.
“Do you love her?”
Kendall gave her a confused look. “Who? My wife?”
