Mark had watched Lena for weeks, her usual yoga pants and tees replaced by miniskirts that barely cupped her round ass and tops that showcased the curves of her tits. Her psychology sessions with Dr. Vance started right when the change hit. “What’s he doing to you?” Mark finally asked one evening, cornering her in the kitchen.

She smirked, a flicker of mischief in her eyes too raw for his memory. “He’s freeing me,” she said, voice low. “Come see.”

Next session, Mark sat in the corner of Dr. Vance’s office, watching Lena lean back in a leather chair. Vance’s voice was a velvet drone: “Now, let your body remember the feel of wanting without shame. Feel the heat between your thighs, the wetness pooling in your pussy.”

Lena’s eyes fluttered shut. Her thighs parted slightly, her skirt riding up. Mark’s cock stiffened in his jeans as he spotted the glisten on her inner thigh, the fabric of her panties darkening.

“Recall a touch that made you ache,” Vance prompted. Lena moaned, a sound that dripped need. “His hand on your throat, lips on your neck.” She shifted, and Mark saw the outline of her clit pressing against the wetness of her panties.

After the session, Lena turned to him in the car, hungrily searching for his eyes. “I wanted you to watch,” she breathed, reaching for his zipper. “Now, take my panties off. Lick that cunt in the backseat before I can think.”

His resolve vanished. He yanked her sideways, pushing her down across the seat. The miniskirt bun