.. you'd like to talk about him?"Ruthie blushed more and ran her fingers through her already disheveled hair:"I ... it wasn't a 'him', Dr. Hartman..."...Ruthie took a deep breath. "This is kinda embarrassing ... to have to talk about..." You don't have to talk about it, Ruthie. But if you're here trying to figure out why your life has gone the way it has, you do have to be aware of yourself and what things in your past might have affected you."Ruthie sat quietly, working up the nerve to share. A few years ago she had to attend a private clinic for certain treatment I won't go into, it's too personal but suffice to say part of it was of a gynecological nature. Mom never spoke of it much but I got a strange feeling it was somehow turning her on, to have to lie there with her legs open in the exam room while doctors and nurses poked about in her private parts and used various instruments to do various things to her. She would hint and occasionaly joke about it, as if she secretly. "Oh yeah, touch me, sweetheart, touch me everywhere, anywhere..."She was a terrific writer, my sweet student, that teasing sex-kitten, with those boots she wore that drove me nuts. And I bet she knew that, no matter how quiet and reserved she might have been in school, she knew how to get my attention.As I slide down the long, hard length of his cock, both of us let out a gasp, the pleasure shooting through us. I cling to his firm chest and strong shoulders as I bounce on his cock, both of us. Marcela’s asshole was about six inches from my face. As I kept pounding Belinda, I watched her furiously work her tongue into and around Marcela’s wet pussy. I was so lost in the heat of the moment that I spit on Marcela’s asshole. The spit ran down the crack of her ass to her pussy and finally dripped onto Belinda’s chin. I guess she felt it because she reached up and glided her fingertip up Marcela’s ass crack. Marcela shuddered and started moving her body more aggressively. She was now.