A Cheating Wife Undergoes Therapy After Cheating Accusations

Cheating Wife Seeks a Cure for Cheating

After three weeks of meditative therapy, I’m still a cheating wife. The whole time, I was hoping it would work.  “I guess I’m just a lost cause,” I tell my therapist.

“I can see that,” my therapist says. “But I have faith in you.  How often have you cheated?”

“Actually, it’s been months now,” I say. “It all started when my husband came home late one night, smelling like pussy. I knew right away he cheated, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I went to bed angry. And when I woke up the next morning, he was still sound asleep. So, I came into your office and you offered to try experimental mediative therapy on me.”

“But when I got home, I realized it only made things worse. I could see how my husband was looking at me with suspicion. He said he knew I knew he’d been cheating. So I fucked him like he wanted.  But I came back here because I don’t remember cheating.  I’m not a cheating wife.”

Cheating Wife Tries Meditative Therapy

Despite my frustration, my therapist doesn’t seem to think I’m hopeless. “First, we’ll do some guided meditation, allowing us to delve deeper into your subconscious.”

As he starts counting down from ten, I fade out into a deep meditative state.  Then I feel hands on my ample tits, and I can feel a throbbing cock inside me.  The meditation has me in an agreeable state of mind. All I can do is lie here and let him fuck my wet pussy. Without a doubt, it feels so good. I love the feeling of this cock deep inside me.  Moreover, I love the intense orgasm I get while I get fucked hard.  I feel my mouth being opened and a load of cum being shot into my mouth.

I hear a distant voice telling me that I’m a cheating wife and I’ll be back the next day, right after my husband fucks me.  Then I agree that I won’t tell him anything about what I just did and won’t remember anything about my meditative therapy once I open my eyes.

“Alright, that’s it,” my therapist says. I open my eyes and see him standing over me.

I nod slowly. “That’s it?  We’re done?  That was fast!  I hope this meditative therapy works- I’m tired of being a cheating wife.”

Husband Hate Fucks His Cheating Wife

Afterwards, I drive home, and my husband greets me, looking very irritated.  He kisses me and says I taste like another man’s cum. But that’s impossible.  After all, I was just at my therapist’s office.  How could he accuse me of anything?

Despite my husband’s insistence of me being a cheating wife, he wants to fuck me.  He says I’m a slut who should get fucked like a slut deserves.  Then he bends me over in the living room, lifting my skirt, pulling my panties to the side and fucks my ass.  He reaches around to choke me while pounding my asshole relentlessly.  Admittedly, I love getting ass-fucked like this.  I cum the second I feel his cum in my asshole, squirting my pussy juice down my thighs.

Although things seemed to be going well with my husband, I felt compelled to see my therapist the next day.  Moreover, I wanted to get help for being a cheating wife.

When he calls me back into his office, I hesitate. Despite not wanting to go into his office, I’m compelled to anyway.  I feel like I have to. Because every time I try to resist coming in to talk to my therapist, I find myself back here.

The Cheating Wife Cycle

When my therapist asks me how things are with my husband, I respond, “Everything is the same.  My husband says I’m a cheating wife and taste like another man’s cum, fucks me, and then I come here the next day.”

“Have you talked to him about our sessions yet?”

“No,” I say. “And I don’t plan to.”

“Well, let’s work on this during today’s therapy session.  Do you remember what we did during our last session?” he asks.

But when I close my eyes and try to remember, it’s all a blur. I remember leaving my house and coming to the therapist’s office. But everything after that until I get home later is just a blank slate.  “I don’t remember,” I say finally.

After thinking for a moment, my therapist responds, “Let’s meditate again and delve into your subconscious again. I think I know what’s going on, but I need to be sure.”

“Okay,” I say finally.  Leaning back in the chair, I close my eyes.  My therapist starts talking to me in that same, slow, calming voice. And just like before, it works. I feel my eyes getting heavy, and then everything goes black.

From deep in my subconscious mind, I hear, “You’re going to cheat on your husband with me right now. I’m going to fuck you. And then you’re going to go home, and you’re going to act like nothing ever happened. Do you understand?”

I nod.

As I leave my therapist’s office, I finally get it. I need help to stop being a cheating wife. And the only person who can give it to me is my therapist.

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