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Dear Diary...

Going to see a therapist isn't one of the things I could ever see myself doing a few years ago and yet here I am sitting in the waiting room waiting for my third appointed time to speak with Dr Karen on a few of my overwhelming addictions. My addictions have gotten so bad recently that I have almost acted upon them with total strangers, and not totally consenting strangers either mind you. I figure stop it now before it creates a part of my life that I will no longer be able to control at all and will possibly end in legal problems for me as well. Because people usually don't react well to interactions with strangers that are weird or crazy to them against their will or without their explicit permission. I've almost gotten pepper sprayed and or tased a few times just "looking" at a woman the wrong way to her it seemed.

But as I sat in the waiting room my mind began to wander a bit to the very things that I was here for in the first place. I can no longer deny my intense attraction to ladies in pantyhose. The fabric on the ladies legs as it sometimes glistens in the sun that sneaks in the office windows at work. The shoes haramidere escort that get kicked off when their feet are hurting a bit much on any given day. The desire I have to drop to my knees and grab those feet without a word uttered, massaging them. Massaging them and rubbing her calves all the way up to her thighs if permitted and rightfully smacked if not.

I sometimes wonder if Dr Karen wears pantyhose on purpose for our sessions or if it just a part of her everyday wardrobe. But it must be insane to think that my therapist is out to get me. is she out to get me? Is she furthering my downfall for her personal financial gain, to keep me coming back for more sessions and paying her more and more each time? Surely my therapist can't be that unethical, could she? Or maybe she is a diabolical diva who is hell bent on world domination and it is starting with lowly little me.

As my mind started spinning out of control, I hadn't noticed the session light go off. I did however take notice of the woman leaving Dr Karen's office rather swiftly and with purpose it seemed. I arose from my seat ikitelli escort and cautiously waited for Dr Karen to invite me inside. I heard her voice soon do just that and slowly, once again cautiously walked into her office and allowed the door to click locked behind me. I walked over and took a seat on the comfortable light purple corduroy covered couch opposite her.

I looked over as I sat down only to notice as in times before she was indeed wearing stockings, pantyhose of a most grand design. The pattern on them this time seemed more intense than times before. I could almost feel myself stirring within the confines of my dark blue denims. Today had me feeling almost compelled to get to the floor and crawl over to her groveling as if my life depended on it.

Surely I thought to myself, she isn't doing this on purpose. As I started to lose myself in thoughts inside my head, I barely heard her sit down and clear her throat. But my attention did slowly turn to her, and my eyes met hers that had a discerning look about them. I could almost feel the chastisement welling up within her, and istanbul escort that too excited me on some level.

I held my breath, anticipating her first words. Soon she spoke and the session was well under way. It started as in times before with introductions and small talk. Then she stabbed at the heart of my addiction, taking no prisoners. Asking how things were going, and I felt a strange sigh of relief wash over me at that moment. Like a burden had been lifted from me, that i've found a kindred spirit. But Dr Karen was no mere kindred spirit, she was my bloody therapist. I was essentially paying her to be my friend and allow me to chew her ear off about things I cant even mention to my own mum and why would I want to?

But nevertheless the session had begun and I started my usual ramblings about just how close I had come the week before to what amounted to assaulting a stranger to sniff lick and kiss her feet. Just as I was revealing such to Dr Karen, out of the corner of my eye I spied her right leg cross over her left and her foot start gyrating.

The gyration causing the heel she was wearing to perch lightly at times on the tip of her toes exposing a most delicious looking pantyhose clad foot from within it. I was finding myself trying to catch my breath while in the distance I could hear her calling my name as if i was in some sort of tunnel. Finally she touched me on the arm and brought me back to my torturous reality, my therapist was out to ruin me.