Family Therapist - Chapter 8 (Fm, some Inc) 
WARNING: Adults only. This material is not suitable for minors.

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Chapter 8


"I... can't right now... I am in the little grocery store..." she
whispered, glancing around with sudden guilt, "with my
husband...", she added quietly, nervously looking again for him,
knowing that Martha would understand. Hoping that she would,
anyway. "Can I call you this afternoon?" she paused, listening,
"Yes, after mass..." she nodded into the phone, "OK, I will," she
said softly, pressing the red hang-up button. She hadn't seen her
therapist in quite a while - only a few times since... since
the... a tingle creeping between her legs as she reached for the
head of iceberg lettuce, her mind elsewhere all of a sudden -
STOP IT! she forced herself. But Martha had insinuated... no. She
would not. Not again.

She made her way through the fresh produce section, her husband
off picking out some steaks for dinner, cold cuts for lunches,
whatever. It was a bright, sunny Sunday morning. They always
shopped then - avoiding the afternoon weekend crowds as people
got ready for the work week ahead. It was a smaller store, but
still a major chain. It wasn't tiny, just not a huge gourmet
version like most of them these days. Her mind wandered again.
Martha... could she? Her mouth went dry.

She was halfway down the canned goods aisle when she heard the
quiet, sing-song voice approaching. "Oh Angela..." she sang
softly, "there you are..." Martha whispered playfully, catching
her attention as she strode up the aisle toward her. Angela's
heart skipped a beat, startled. The fact that Martha had shown
up, had found her so quickly ... that wasn't surprising. Everyone
who lived in this small suburban neighborhood came here. Martha
lived nearby. It was ideal...

But she had JUST told her she'd talk later. Martha had probably
been nearby when calling. No, it wasn't that she was there all of
a sudden that startled her... her heart skipped a beat when she
noticed someone walking with her, Martha beaming... whispering
something into his ear as they approached... was that? Why?

No way.

From behind her, his voice almost made her fall over. "Hi
Martha," Angela's husband said past her, smiling, reaching around
as he came up behind her, dropping several meat packages into
their cart. "Nice to see... Oh, Hi Johnny!" he grinned at his
son's best friend, clapping him on the shoulder - a nice manly
greeting. "What are..." he started.

"I am dropping him off for Linda," Martha jumped in innocently,
happily, smiling at Angela's husband, but turning to look
knowingly into Angela's eyes, searching for a reaction. They knew
that Martha was Johnny's therapist as well as Angela's. But... if
Angela's husband ever found out how... about what... she had
actually been 'helping' her with... no - that could not happen.
Her heart pounded.

"We did a quick make up appointment this morning, didn't we?" she
said, smiling at Johnny, "I don't usually do anything but sleep
in late on Sunday mornings," she laughed, "But Stan is out of
town anyway, so... what the heck. It worked out for everyone,"
Martha said gently, turning briefly to Johnny, "But Linda and
John are at church now, so I offered to bring him ho-"

"Oh, we can take him home... can you wait a few minutes while we
check out, Johnny?" his friend's father said, turning toward his
wife - puzzled for a moment as he felt her tense lightly next to
him, but thought nothing more about it. Angela smiled stiffly,
shaking it off. But her heart was pounding. He must be able to
hear it about to burst out of her chest. No way. Nope. She
couldn't. Her mind raced. No way.

Small talk... she heard it as if far away... Martha and her
husband... talking about the awful pot holes in the neighborhood
roads... parting ways... smiling. She couldn't breath.

She had seen him look.

Johnny. She saw his eyes... briefly lock with hers - giving
nothing away. Maybe nothing was going on, she hoped for a
moment... but... it was his flashing glance across her breasts...
her blouse... lingering a moment too long as he turned to follow
- that confirmed her fears. Her knees trembled, knowing his eyes
were on her as she and her husband led the way to the checkout
stand. Not Johnny... every movement she made... just walking
ahead of him... felt exaggerated... she could feel his eyes on
her... no! It had only ever been a fantasy! No way.

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"Come on in, Angela," Martha said, smiling, leading her into the
small office in the back of the old renovated house. "OH MY GOD,
MARTHA!" Angela blurted out before she was even through the door,
hissing quietly at Martha as her therapist held the door open for
her, "WHAT WERE YOU DOIN-"

She stopped abruptly.

Johnny was sitting on the love seat in the little office.
"MARTHA!" she turned to her, "I CAN'T... THIS CAN'T..." she
managed, her voice rising... halting. But Martha cut her off.
"Shhh.... Angela," she said gently, "He knows... about you..."
she said gently. "It's OK..." she whispered. "It's OK..."

Angela's eyes went wide, her heart pounding. "What do you -" she
started to ask. Froze. She knew what she meant. She fought to
keep from looking at him. This boy she had known since he was...
well... born. "Angela, he was JUST watching..." she paused, "a
small little part of your... video," Martha admitted gently,
matter-of-factly, smiling sweetly. Johnny was still in shock.
Watching Mrs. Morgan... who the young boy was that had been
sitting next to her, he had no idea... sitting on THIS love
seat... his hand under her shirt... oh my god.

"He knows, Angela," she put her arm around her, seeing the mature
woman looking a little wobbly, leaning in, warm and comforting,
whispering in her ear so only she could hear, "The boy you have
been fantasizing about..." she trailed, feeling Angela tremble,
"Well... one of them, anyway," she teased ever so quietly,
grinning at her... holding her up. Angela's breath raced. She
felt a little light-headed. This was... dangerous.

"You have nothing to worry about, Angela," she whispered,
reaching up, gently turning the married woman's head to look at
him, "Ask Mrs. Scott," she smiled, pausing. It took her a
moment... for what Martha had said to register. Angela's head
jerked to look at her, searching her eyes. Martha nodded, smiled
gently. "I'll show you the video..." she whispered very quietly
into her ear, trailing off. "So gentle... so nice..." she trailed
off, smiling sweetly.

His eyes met hers, Angela looked away. Looked back. "Johnny,
I..." she tried to say. This was Johnny! Her best friend's son!
Oh my god, her son's best friend! "Johnny this can't..." she
tried, "we can't..." - but Martha brought her finger up, lightly
touching her lips. "Shhhhh..." she whispered. "We don't have a
lot of time today," she said, "Linda will be here shortly to pick
him up." Angela tried to pull away, "MARTHA! OH MY GOD!" she
started -

"Johnny," Martha said, turning to him quickly, forcefully, "Tell
Mrs. Morgan what you told me a few minutes ago," she demanded,
locking eyes with him, her arm gently around Angela. Johnny
flinched in his seat. He looked at Mrs. Morgan, at her eyes...
questioning, unsure. The words stuck in his throat... he looked
away. This was his best friend's mother! "Mrs. Morgan, I..." he
blushed, choked up. If his mother ever found out... oh man.

"Johnny, come here," Martha said firmly, motioning for him to
rise... to stand in front of Angela. "You know Mrs. Morgan,"
Martha said sweetly, "she isn't going to bite?" she smiled
playfully, "And she is NOT going to tell anyone... ever... what
is said here today, are you Angela?" she smiled, turning to the
married mother next to her, seeing her reluctance, her
insecurity. Her agreement, her eyes locked on the boy in front of
her. He had seen the video? It finally registered. Oh my god.

The front door to the old house opened... closed. They all heard
it. Angela stiffened. Linda was out there... waiting. If she ever
knew... "Johnny," Martha said quietly, "we don't have much time,"
she repeated.

She was so close, her presence so real in front of him. This
wasn't a fantasy. He could see her breathing, her chest rise and
fall, he could smell her. Her breasts... oh man... larger than
Mrs. Scott's, they were so close to him - the familiar pull over
cotton blouse - he knew this shirt... it accentuated the
roundness, the fullness of her mature breasts - the lines of her
bra hinted beneath, cupping them - the random folds in the
pullover as it rode over them... they weren't huge... but they
were full... oh how many times had he dreamed of them... tried to
sneak peeks at her growing up? And there they were... right in
front of him. He felt himself stir... his pants constrict. Oh
man.

The light coming through the nearly closed plantation blinds, the
potted plant in the corner behind her. So real. THIS WAS NO
FANTASY! Her presence was... intense. She swayed slightly as she
stood there, nervous. He wanted to reach out... to touch them. Oh
my god. He was going to get to TOUCH THEM! Eddie's mom! He wanted
to... he felt himself getting hard... so hard...

He jumped when Martha lightly grasped his wrist... guiding his
hand up. Was she? Was this it? His knees almost gave out. Her
breasts seemed so big... so real... so close. Martha gently
pulled his hand upward... slowly... oh my god... his eyes
half-closed, ready to feel it fill with her soft, full breast.
Mrs. Morgan's breast! He...

Was surprised. She held his wrist firmly, guiding him up... past
her breasts... extending and placing one of his fingertips
lightly on Mrs. Morgan's lips. The whole movement was awkward...
he didn't know what she was trying to get him to do. He felt his
friend's mother try to pull her head away, surprised also.

But Martha gently placed a hand on the small of her back. "It's
OK, Angela," she whispered, "Shhh..." she calmed her, Angela
hesitated... letting his every so gentle, light touch linger on
her softly painted lips... unsure of what she was making him do.
Her eyes focused on his... but his were looking at... his
finger... "Tell her," Martha whispered to him, "tell her what you
want to do first..." she urged him.

Johnny was frozen, mesmerized. First! Oh man... the thoughts...
his forearm brushed lightly against her right breast as Martha
pushed them closer together. Angela jerked away a little at the
touch, but he kept his finger there... gently following the curve
of her lips. Her face so close. He could see the small lines in
her skin, the light makeup covering its otherwise smoothness. The
familiar bangs of her shoulder-length, blondish, well-styled hair
framing her eyes. He had always thought she was pretty. She
looked so professional. Classy, she always dressed so nicely.

"Mrs. Morgan, I..." he tried again, blushing, averting his eyes
now... searching around for Martha. "Mrs. Morgan," Martha
whispered, taking control, "your son's best friend wants to cum
in your mouth," she said softly, gently, playfully. Angela's eyes
closed tight. She tried to pull away... but froze. She had wanted
this for so long. They had talked about it. But now... his young
cock was right down there... in front of her. Oh no. No no. This
was happening too fast.

"Look at it," Martha demanded softly. "He wants you to suck his
hard, young cock," Martha whispered, her hand gently resting on
the front of his thigh, guiding her eyes. Angela tensed. This
was... Linda was... oh my god... hearing the words... out loud...
it was suddenly - frighteningly - real. It was wrong. She had
known this was coming, but...

"Oh Mrs. Morgan," Martha said gently in her sing-song, teasing
voice, "Johnny wants to look into your eyes as you swallow his
cum," Martha smiled sweetly, "watching those soft lips of yours
take his young shaft deep into your mouth..." Angela's eyes now
locked onto his pants... at the obvious bulge... "as he cums...
down your throat..." she trailed off, smiling, stepping back to
take in the sight of the two of them, "without your son
knowing..." she whispered, "Of course Eddie will never know... no
one will know," she teased.

"Angela," she whispered, "he won't say a word, will you Johnny?"
she whispered. "His teacher can vouch for him," she smiled,
winking at her. Angela's eyes widened. Mrs. Scott - Mrs. Scott
had recommended Martha... "We'll find a time soon... for you two
to get... better acquainted..." she whispered, playfully looking
at her. Angela was so nervous. "Shhh..." she whispered, "All in
good time," she teased. "Johnny," she whispered to them both as
she took his hand to lead him out to his mother, "Mrs. Morgan has
fantasized about you too..." she smiled, "for a long, long time,"
she trailed off, "Haven't you, Mrs. Morgan?"

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Linda felt nauseous as she entered her son's room. After what
Mrs. Jones had told her, showed her, she hadn't been able sleep
for the last few nights. If her husband ever found out, well...
to say he would be upset was putting it as mildly as possible.
And poor Mrs. Scott - she was such a loyal teacher... having to
see that. She was so ashamed.

But, she had to know...

It was a sunny Friday morning - cold outside for this late in
spring. The sun beaming in his window: bright, warm, happy -
making a mockery of what she was doing. She was alone in the
house. Working from home, or so she had told her boss. She
couldn't work. She was so nervous. This was surreal, reaching
under his rumpled flannel sheets... his bed a mess as usual...
she didn't want to find it... half hoped he had taken it with
him. Holding her breath. She almost jumped when her fingertips
finally located his father's old laptop. "Turn it off NOW and go
to sleep!" was the mantra shouted down the hall endlessly each
night.

He wouldn't be home until tomorrow sometime. He had asked to
spend the night at some friend's house after school, and that was
fine with her. She had not said much to him when he left this
morning. Taking the laptop to her room... sitting on her bed...
setting it next to her as she opened it slowly. She stared at the
screen as it came alive. She didn't want to know. She had to
know. Please let it be a silly thing, she thought... then,
hesitating... she clicked the 'Administrator' icon...