One Hot Daddy

He sits down and folds his elbows on the desk and leans forward to peer at me. “You’re my first soldier with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder!”

Disappointment washes over me. I had hoped to get someone with experience. I don’t want to be a guinea pig. Maybe I’m judging him too fast. He seems enthusiastic enough. Too enthusiastic. His eyes twinkle as he asks me about my experiences. The gorier the better it seems. As I speak, he stares at me as if I’m a creature from outer space. It’s almost as if he’s watching a movie. The only thing he’s missing is popcorn. Tired of describing the things I saw; I tell him about my sleeping problems. The nightmares and flashbacks.

He asks me a few questions. When did I leave Afghanistan, when did the flashbacks start? Standard questions. I answer as honestly as I can. I’m excited because he looks like he might have a solution for me. Maybe some exercises that I need to do. Or some medicines. Anything as long as I get my life back.

“Do you drink a lot of coffee?” he asks.

I like coffee as much as the next person and I tell him so.

“Cut out your coffee intake,” he says firmly.

Twenty minutes later, I stand in the hallway dumbstruck. I’ve been diagnosed as drinking too much coffee. A woman passes by and stares at me like I’m crazy, which I probably am. That rouses me from the bubble of misery I’m stuck in and I walk mechanically to the elevator.

I feel cheated. As if I was only there for his entertainment and when he was done with me, he ejected me from his office.

I can’t go back to my condo. I’m not ready to deal with the fact that I’m back to square one. This visit to the therapist was a complete waste of time. In the parking lot, I get into my car and drive off without a destination in mind.

Twenty minutes later I park my car outside Lexi’s house. I glance at the time. Four in the afternoon. Fifteen more minutes and she’ll be home. I keep my brain empty and fiddle with the radio, moving from one station to another. Finally, an old sedan appears.

It’s Lexi. She parks the car and comes my way.

“Hi,” she says. “What a nice surprise. Do you want to come in?”

I’m relieved. She doesn’t think I’m a stalker. “Hi, sorry for coming unannounced. I didn’t have your number.”

“It’s okay,” she says.

A soft breeze picks up her hair, stirring the strands around her cheeks. I reach out and brush it away from her face. She reeks of sweetness and innocence. What am I doing here? She’s a sweet girl who needs a good man. The only reason I am here is that I want to fuck her.

She wants it too, my conscience says.

I lock gazes with her. “Do you want to come home with me?” No games, no pretense that my invitation is anything more than what I mean. Don’t want her to think this is anything more than what it is.

Not a date. No promises for the future. Just for tonight.

She contemplates me for a few seconds. “Okay, I’ll come. Give me a minute.”

Relief surges through me. I need her. She goes into the house and emerges minutes later. Her lemon scent envelopes me as she opens the car door and slides in. I wait until she buckles up before I weapon the engine. We’re quiet on the way but the sexual tension in the car mounts by the minute.

By the time we reach my condo, all I can think about is how much I want to bury my shaft into her sweet warm pussy. I need an outlet. I need Lexi.

I park the car in the underground parking, grab her hand, and lead her to the elevators. I pull her into my arms as soon as the doors shut and cup her face. I kiss her softly, ignoring the urge to crash my mouth into hers and devour her hungrily.

I want to take it slowly. To lose myself in the sweetness of her body. The elevator stops and I take her hand again and lead her out. I fish for my key and open the door. I don’t waste time when we’re inside. I take Lexi straight to my bedroom.

I shut the door and one by one I pop open the buttons of her shirt. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. She stands with her hands by her side as though offering all of herself to me. When the last button is open, I push the shirt from her shoulders and help her out of it.

I inhale sharply as I soak in the sight of her. “So beautiful,” I murmur as I stroke her bare shoulders. I hadn’t fully appreciated Lexi’s perfect figure the last time we were together like this. Her breasts are full and straining against her lace bra. She trembles as I cup them over the material and when I rub them with my thumbs, she lets out a soft moan.