"You're rejecting me," she told him. "Don't tell me you've never made love with one of your patients!"

"I didn't say that."

"Go To Hell!" Helen slammed down the telephone and threw the entire set across the room. It made a satisfying noise of bells and thick plastic as it hit the wall, and the low hum of the dial tone reached her from where she sat. "What good is analysis anyway?" she asked herself out loud. Once more she contemplated never going to see Stan again. She couldn't see that the psychiatrist was doing her any good. But then she wasn't sure of that either. It was hard to tell. She certainly didn't agree with half the things he said to her. But then he was the doctor, and she was the patient. He was just about the only person that she talked to, and the thought of starting out all over again with another analyst was depressing to say the least as was the thought of trying to muddle through her life on her own.

Slowly, Helen rose and began to slip out of her black lace gown. It had been bought with the idea in mind of tempting her husband into some kind of interest in her. But it had not worked, of course. Tears brimmed to the blonde wife's eyes as she uncovered the smooth creamy planes of her naked body. Her large breasts were just as firm and attractive as ever with their rosy tips that were thick and pouting, just waiting for Adam's fingers or even his mouth. She blushed at the thought. How long had it been since he'd made love with her? Really made love? It had been two weeks now since he'd touched her, and now as she thought about it, Helen realized that he hadn't actually touched her. No, he'd made a few in and out motions, his penis fitted snugly inside her, and then he'd cum and he rolled off to the side, and that was it. He'd never once kissed her or felt her breasts or anything else for that matter during the entire brief operation.

She just couldn't go on like this! The golden blonde area of her pussy caught her attention in the mirror.