Nymphomaniac Phone Sex – Rhiannon Seeks Therapy Part 1

Hi there, handsome! Writing blogs over the last year has been very therapeutic for me. If you were unaware, I’m what most would refer to as a nymphomaniac. That’s right! I have an almost insatiable appetite for sexual gratification. In fact, it’s really what drew me to becoming a PSO in the first place, and makes most days a real dream come true. However, I wasn’t always so easy going about my need for orgasms. At one point, I actually was forced to seek therapy to deal with being a nymphomaniac and it didn’t really work out the way I thought it would. So. why don’t you kick back and read about exactly what happened! 

I hate waiting rooms. They’re so sterile and completely uninviting. Who wants to sit in a chair with some random 1980’s fabric while thumbing through two year old issues of Cosmopolitan? It certainly is not how I want to spend my Monday morning, or any morning, really. Sadly, it’s necessary at this point in time and there isn’t much I can do about it. After standing in front of a Judge and admitting that I was caught being fucked in the dressing room at a local department store, it was either court-ordered therapy or jail time. It wasn’t a difficult decision.

My therapist had diagnosed me as being a nymphomaniac at a previous session.

Telling you every naughty little thought I had in that session could certainly be described as therapeutic. Watching you cross and uncross your legs again and again as I told you, in great detail, about meeting a stranger on Tinder to give him a blow job in the bathroom at a bar was entertaining to say the least. The only thing I could think about as you cleared your throat was how that hard cock of yours would feel with my lips wrapped around it and how your voice would crack as you moaned my name. 

Snapping back to reality, I smooth my skirt onto my thighs as you let me know the time for our appointment has arrived. My heels click against the cheap laminate flooring as I make my way into your office and seat myself. The big, comfy, chair completely envelops me as I sink into it. You clear your throat before asking me if I’ve had any more intrusive sexual thoughts. My mind is a whirlwind of erotic images.

I picture the two of us, during a therapy session, fucking in all sorts of ways.

Your cock bottoming out against my cervix. My thighs wrapped around your face as your tongue thrusts in and out of my wet and wanting cunt. Me, bent over the arm of this chair, as your balls slap against my clit.

“No more than usual,” I tell you as you write notes on your clipboard. While chewing on my bottom lip, I feel my pussy grow wet and internally beg for you to touch it with your long, thick, fingers. Picturing your fingers thrusting inside of me is easy, and I blink my eyes a few times as I hear you call my name. 

“My apologies,” I tell you, coming back to reality, “It’s just that sometimes I feel like the need to have an orgasm rules my life.” 

As you rise from your seat, you tell me how very interesting you find that.

To be continued. . .

I hope you’re enjoying my tale about nymphomaniac phone sex and that you don’t mind that I’ve put you in charge of my therapy. Hehe. If you can’t wait to find out what happens in this naughty therapy session, you’ll want to check out my audio. The little extra details will leave your cock twitching, I’m sure. Also, if you enjoy my blogs, you’ll want to check out my Naughty Secretary Fantasy.

Until next time!

XoXo,

Rhiannon

877-716-2084