"So ... formal. Businesslike."She gasped at what she'd said."I'm sorry!" she said, looking at the husband. "You're trying, I—"There was something in...his face that the wife couldn't bear to watch. She addressed Dr. Seymour again."I know he's trying to keep things ... calm ... after what happened. I know I was the one who messed up, I just haven't been able to explain..."Tears were flowing again now, but Dr. Seymour was not watching the wife. Surreptitiously, while taking notes, she was watching. "Mmmm...good. That makes me feel a little better." "Can you take off the tank top? I'll be able to rub your stomach better without it in the way." She asks. I do as she asks without much thought. She keeps rubbing my stomach in circles, slowly making the circles bigger and bigger. Soon her fingertips are brushing against my breast. I have decent, c-cup breasts. I breathe in deeply as Whitney sneaks her fingers under my bra and her fingers brush my nipples. She repeats the action again, this. More

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