Stuck in Sex Traffic

As the therapist sat down with the woman he made a note.

-Thirty-six year old subject seems well-rested and alert.

"My name is Mr. Sands." he told her, shaking her hand.

The big-chested, dark-featured woman nodded and smiled.

"Nice to meet you." she replied.

"Can you tell me a little bit about your background?" he began.

"Ah, I was the youngest of three children. My parents were unhappily married and we were middle class..."

He jotted down another note.

"Okay. First sexual experience?"

"Ah, it was with my brother's friend. He came over and showed me his penis and made me suck it when we all came home from college one Spring."

"Okay. Coerced fellatio. And how did that make you feel?"

"Well, strange... but... curious too."

"Curious? In what way?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, I wondered where all that cum came from." she said, slightly bemused.

"I see. And how often did this occur?" he asked.

"Every day after that until the end of break."

The therapist made another notation.

-Subject seems overly casual about first illicit sex experience.

"Did you ever tell your mother or father about this?"

"No, I figured I was just as guilty as him."

"And how did this all begin?" he questioned.

"Ah, after I showed him my tits one day."

"Why did you do this?"

"He dared me. So I just pulled my bra up and let them fall out."

The therapist involuntarily directed his eyes down to her projecting mammary glands then.

"I see. And how did this make you feel?"

"Ah, amused... and... desired."

"I see." the therapist said as he shifted in his chair, "And how did this progress to oral sex?"

"Ah, eventually he started feeling them and getting my nipples big and hard and this gave him a... hard-on."

"Sure... I mean... that would naturally follow." he blurted, quickly recovering his clinical detachment.

"Then after that he always wanted to have me blow him bare-chested." she added.

He wrote on his pad again.

-Subject using street language freely.

"Okay, so what were your next sexual experiences?" he asked with a tense voice.

"Ah, after that... it was the neighbor and it surprised me because he was some kind of doctor."

"How did it happen?"

"He just put his arms around me from behind one day when I went over there to borrow a sewing machine- I think it was."

"What happened then?"

"He squeezed my tits and panted into my ear and kept telling me what a tease I was."

The therapist fumbled his pencil.

"Okay. And then?"

"He pulled my top off and I got down on my knees and sucked him."

"You performed fellatio." he corrected her with a tremor.

"Yes, until I was able to jerk him off onto my tits." she said, bringing her hand to her face with her finger set against her temple.

He wrote again.

-Subject exhibiting traumatic dis-association.

"And what about later when you started having sex for money?" he asked, wiping his brow with his hand.

"It was pretty much the same." she insisted, "Blowing men and jerking them off onto my tits."

"There was no intercourse involved?"

"There weren't many who could get that far with me."

"Why not?"

"They would usually come before they could get my panties off."

The therapist swallowed hard and loudly.

"But you did have intercourse with a few?"

"Yeah, I would ride them, the ones that could last, but they always blew quickly after I fucked them."

He saw an image of her now working over the men with her breasts bouncing away.

"Even with condoms?" he queried with a somewhat incredulous tone.

"It didn't matter. Condoms- no condoms. They didn't last."

He realized the interview was getting off track now.

"So you eventually ended up working in several massage parlors."

"Yes.

"How did that happen?"

"A guy told me I could make $10,000 a month and he brought me to this place where these mafia guys told me I owed them a lot of money, but he said he would take care of it all and protect me from them so I went and started working for him."

"Were you forced to stay there?"

"No, I mean, I wasn't tied down or threatened. I just didn't know what else I would do if I did leave."

"So you remained there for five years." he stated as he referred to his report.

"Yes."

"And how much did you actually make there?"

"A thousand a week, but I hid some of my tips."

"Hid? How?"

"I put the money in a vibrator with no batteries and stuck it up my... backside."

The therapist stopped writing and looked at her.

"So you had to hide some of the money."

"Yeah. I thought it was fair."

"So you made quite a bit."

"Yes, I was in big demand there."

He made another note.

-Subject seems to have been in control of her situation.

"So what exactly did you do at this point for these customers?"

"I did a lot of different things."

"Such as?"

"Ah, jerking them off from behind as they stood and rubbed my tits against their backs- standing over them as they lay on the floor and playing with my tits as they jerked off. Stuff like that."

"And... fellating them and masturbating them onto your breasts?"

"Sure, that was my bread and butter, so to say."

The man found that he was trembling now. He wrote again.

-This subject does not fit the classical profile of a trafficked person. She seems to

have been in full control of her situation.

"And what was your typical sexual encounter there?"

"I would give them a very light massage and tickle them in certain places." she informed him with a bending of one finger.

The man watched the finger as his pulse quickened.

"And then?"

"Pull my tits out of my bra and have them turn over."

He pretended to make another note, but only retraced the word: MASSIVE on his pad again and again.

"Okay And did they stay in that position?." he prodded.

"The men? No, I had them slide down and sit on the end of the table and lean back while I sucked them off."

"Oh, of course.." he said as he quivered and licked his lips and stared down at her gunboat knockers.

"Then they always shot hard loads onto me and I rubbed it all in until my chest shined."

He wrote another word and retraced it repeatedly.

-TITIES!!

"Yes, you made a good living doing this, I see!" he said, tapping his hand on the table manically.

"And the rich ones I always made them wait longer for their finish." she boasted.

He broke his pencil point then.

"I bet."

"Are you okay, Mr. Sands?" she asked then, "You seem tense."

"Do I?" he replied as he undid the top button of his shirt.

"Would you like to look at them?"

"Them?"

"My tits."

He quaked at this offer.

"Well, that would be highly..."

"Highly what?" she replied as she pulled up her knit top and bra in one motion and let her big, round, girls spell out in front of him.

They bounced together and then swung out slightly with their dark nipples the size of bolts. She stood up and walked to him and let them fall into his face.

"You like?" she asked.

His prick engorged immediately and started to push against its confines as he gripped one of the jutting glands and drew its nipple into his mouth. She removed her bra and top completely then and pulled his head into her cleavage. Soon she had him up and leaning against the wall with his pants around his ankles. She frowned at his erection as it bounced in front of her and gripped his ball sack as if it were a purse she was checking for coins. From a squat she gripped his prick and angled it up and licked at his balls before she brought her tongue up the shaft and drew the gland into her large mouth. Her eyes patronized him with each pull on his manhead. This was when he saw the attraction her face had for men who liked to see plain women service them. She reached between his legs and rubbed at his root and then his asshole and then massaged his balls as she stroked him. She gave him a big warm smile when his prick showed that it was fully extended and fully aroused from the friction of her spit. Down further her beautiful pair hung from her and swayed. He was shaking now as her professional skills were causing a rising tension in his prostate.

"You ready to come, Baby?" she asked him as if he were just another customer now.

She slowly jerked only the rim of his gland with a light bend of her wrist. He glanced toward the door of his office before his body started to shutter.

"Oh ho! Ah! Ahhh!" he let out.

He slid his hands over the wall behind him like a blind man searching for a door before he found the mid-wall molding to cling to. His excitement at watching her and feeling what she was doing to him surprised him. He was trembling like a frightened kitten. He clutched the molding and watched her happy smirk as his prick hung bright red and bulbous just inches from her chin. Her left hand was up between his legs and doing little taps and swirls on the sensitive skin down there while her right hand was pulling at him gently. He felt a ticklish rush come up from his nuts then and his body convulsed.

"Yaaaah!" he cried out as his body became electrified jello, "Sheeeezez!"

He shut his mouth after this and managed to suppress the rest of his high pitched squeals as his prick throbbed and pounded out its load onto the woman's neck and chest. Her expression became serene and supreme as she received his seed in six ejaculations, destroying all his clinical posturing. He continued to emit suppressed grunts and flinch as he watched her rub his glistening semen over, around and into her dangling beauties.

And then it was over. She let go of him and stood up.

"Will that do it for today?" she asked.

His legs were still shaking as she got her sticky tits back into her bra and top. He pulled up his pants red faced.

"Yeah." he said, making his way back to his padded chair.

She walked out and he fell back into his seat as a peaceful, but troubled euphoria came over him. His mind was floating on the experience still and a deep physical contentment flowed through him, but he also realized he had just re-confirmed the very values he had been tasked to discredit. Should he refuse to see her again in a professional capacity? He considered it, but then something lower in him made him reject the idea.

The next day she returned at the same time and showed the same casual demeanor as the day before. He kept his eyes averted and then spoke.

"Naomi, I hope what occurred yesterday won't prevent us from completing our counseling sessions." he told her.

"No, why should it?" she replied.

"Well, I just want you to know that I don't do such things with everyone."

"Of course not. Why would you?"

He glanced down at her tits and strangely kept his eyes on them.

"There are just some things that a man can't control."

"I know." she replied.

"Okay, well, would you like to start today by talking about your job skills?"

"Didn't we go over those yesterday?" she commented with a playful look.

He blushed.

"Yes, but..."

"Look, Mr. Sands. I need to get out of the sex business because it's like a drug to me and I think you understand that now. Everyone wants a thrill in life because life is generally unexciting. That's what keeps everybody coming back and that's what keeps me doing it. Even you took the opportunity when you were given the chance to get satisfaction. It's not really about the money for me anymore. I just love the feeling of doing something freaky. And I love the fact that I'm needed for my expertise. But I need to find another way to be fulfilled because this life is going to eat me up sooner or later."

He could only nod.

"I would happily blow you again today or let you sniff my undies," she went on, "but don't try and tell me I can be a secretary now or a cashier. I can't."

He was silent for a beat.

"You would let me sniff your panties?" he finally asked.

"Sure. And I could probably get you to wear them over your face and tell everyone they're your Covid 19 mask. But that would only prove my point. People are weak."

How could he argue with her.

"This may be so, but we still need self-respect."

"I respect myself a lot. In fact, too much to stay here any longer and be judged." she suddenly insisted.

She stood up then and removed her thong panties and tossed them on his desk.

"Have fun." she quipped before she walked out.

He looked at her underwear with wide eyes after she left and then reached out and took them into his hand with fascination. He brought them to his nose and let them fill his brain. They had just been pressed against the pussy that few men had ever made it to and he wanted this little piece of nylon to help him envision it. He decided her cunt was hairy as he took his prick out of his pants, with wide inner labia and a big, knob-like clit. The smell of her crack sweat on them made his gland bloat and soon his prick was a lever ready to be abused. He flailed at it with nothing but spit as her panties blossomed in his mind. He was fucking her now on his desk as her big breasts shook and collided wildly. He crawled up on top of her after that and stuck his prick between those amazing tits of hers and fucked them like an animal. His cock spewed up its contents all over them just as his intercom sounded.

"Mr. Sands, your next appointment is here." came a voice.

He got his prick back into his pants, wiped his hands with a tissue and pushed the reply button.

"Send her in." he said as he moved to the sink.

None of this meant that the program he was in to help trafficked women was a failure. They would help the ones they could and be satisfied with that. But now Mr. Sands had more of an understanding of the complexity of the issue. Sex was a haven for people, a drug, irregardless of whether they were the server or the serviced. It would always be that way as long as they lived in a world based on tops and bottoms and tits and asses.

expressed in a complete nervous

As the therapist sat down with the woman he made a note.

-Thirty-six year old subject seems well-rested and alert.

"My name is Mr. Sands." he told her, shaking her hand.

The big-chested, dark-featured woman nodded and smiled.

"Nice to meet you." she replied.

"Can you tell me a little bit about your background?" he began.

"Ah, I was the youngest of three children. My parents were unhappily married and we were middle class..."

He jotted down another note.

"Okay. First sexual experience?"

"Ah, it was with my brother's friend. He came over and showed me his penis and made me suck it."

"Okay. Coerced fellatio. And how did that make you feel?"

"Well, strange... but... curious too."

"Curious? In what way?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, I wondered where all that cum came from." she said, slightly bemused.

"I see. And how often did this occur?" he asked.

"Every week after that at least."

The therapist made another notation.

-Subject seems overly casual about first illicit sex experience.

"Did you ever tell your mother or father about this?"

"No, I figured I was just as guilty as him."

"And how did this all begin?" he questioned.

"Ah, after I showed him my tits one day."

"Why did you do this?"

"He dared me. So I just pulled my bra up and let them fall out."

The therapist involuntarily directed his eyes down to her projecting mammary glands then.

"I see. And how did this make you feel?"

"Ah, amused... and... desired."

"I see." the therapist said as he shifted in his chair, "And how did this progress to oral sex?"

"Ah, eventually he started feeling them and getting my nipples big and hard and this gave him a... hard-on."

"Sure... I mean... that would naturally follow." he blurted, quickly recovering his clinical detachment.

"Then after that he always wanted to have me blow him bare-chested." she added.

He wrote on his pad again.

-Subject using street language freely.

"Okay, so what were your next sexual experiences?" he asked with a tense voice.

"Ah, after that... it was the neighbor and it surprised me because he was some kind of doctor."

"How did it happen?"

"He just put his arms around me from behind one day when I went over there to borrow a sewing machine- I think it was."

"What happened then?"

"He squeezed my tits and panted into my ear and kept telling me what a tease I was."

The therapist fumbled his pencil.

"Okay. And then?"

"He pulled my top off and I got down on my knees and sucked him."

"You performed fellatio." he corrected her with a tremor.

"Yes, until I was able to jerk him off onto my tits." she said, bringing her hand to her face with her finger set against her temple.

He wrote again.

-Subject exhibiting traumatic dis-association.

"And what about later when you started having sex for money?" he asked, wiping his brow with his hand.

"It was pretty much the same." she insisted, "Blowing men and jerking them off onto my tits."

"There was no intercourse involved?"

"There weren't many who could get that far with me."

"Why not?"

"They would usually come before they could get my panties off."

The therapist swallowed hard and loudly.

"But you did have intercourse with a few."

"Yeah, I would ride them, the ones that could last, but they always blew quickly after I fucked them."

"Even with condoms?" he queried with a somewhat incredulous tone.

"It didn't matter. Condoms- no condoms. They didn't last."

He realized the interview was getting off track now.

"So you eventually ended up working in several massage parlors."

"Yes.

"How did that happen?"

"A guy told me I could make $10,000 a month and he brought me to this place where these mafia guys told me I owed them a lot of money, but he said he would take care of it all and protect me from them so I went and started working for him."

"Were you forced to stay there?"

"No, I mean, I wasn't tied down or threatened. I just didn't know what else I would do if I did leave."

"So you remained there for five years." he checked as he referred to his report.

"Yes."

"And how much did you actually make there?"

"A thousand a week, but I hid some of my tips."

"Hid? How?"

"I put the money in a vibrator with no batteries and stuck it up my... backside."

The therapist stopped writing and looked at her.

"So you had to hide some of the money."

"Yeah. I thought it was fair."

"So you made quite a bit."

"Yes, I was in big demand there."

He made another note.

-Subject seems to have been in control of her situation.

"So what exactly did you do at this point for these customers?"

"I did a lot of different things."

"Such as?"

"Ah, jerking them off from behind as they stood and rubbed my tits against their backs- standing over them as they lay on the floor and playing with my tits as they jerked off. Stuff like that."

"And... fellating them and masturbating them onto your breasts?"

"Sure, that was my bread and butter, so to say."

The man found that he was trembling now. He wrote again.

-This subject does not fit the classical profile of a trafficked person. She seems to have been in full control of her situation.

"And what was your typical sexual encounter there?"

"I would give them a very light massage and tickle them in certain places." she informed him with a bending of one finger.

The man watched the finger as his pulse quickened.

"And then?"

"Pull my tits out of my bra and turn them over."

He pretended to make another note, but only retraced the word: MASSIVE on his pad again and again.

"Okay And did they stay in that position?." he prodded.

"No, I had them slide down and sit on the end of the table and lean back while I sucked them off."

"Oh sure.." he said as he quivered and licked his lips and stared down at her gunboat knockers.