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My sudden appearance had caused the second dog to pause. Now he was advance toward the three of us growling low in his throat."Pick up the baby and start moving towards that red truck. Walk, don't run, and I'll stay between you and the dogs."I didn't get a chance to see if she was complying because the first dog was on his feet now and both animals were advancing toward me. My brain flashed on this Animal Planet show about Jackals I'd seen as the two dogs separated and flanked me. The dog that I kicked was limping slightly. I tried to watch them both but I was more leery of the one I hadn't kicked. So, of course, it was the gimpy one who launched himself at me and snapped at my arm. I spun away from him and jerked my arm back just as he bit down. Pain raced up my forearm as he took a chomp but luckily his momentum and my arm moving back didn't let him get a good grip. Instead, he tore a couple of gashes in my arm about four inches below my elbow.When the first dog was sailing away. As the waitress left, Katie explained. “Jennifer here is somewhat of an expert at hand jobs. She learned at an early age to give them so she didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant, or the mess, or taking any clothes off. Perfect for a woman. Now, she is going to give you one all during lunch, and you will not cum. If you cum, game’s over.” Now what kind of crap is this, I’m thinking. That was when I felt Jennifer’s hand. Slowly, caressing my balls, she had a very light touch. I got hard very quickly. Jennifer wrapped her whole hand around my cock, stroking the entire length, balls to head, several times. “Nice cock, about 7”, right?” she asked. I just nodded, trying to keep a straight face. The waitress brought our food, I struggled to remain calm. Jennifer ate with one hand. Katie was eating with a wide grin on her face, looking me in the eye the whole time. I was trying to concentrate on my food while that magic hand worked my cock. Jennifer would alternate long strokes.
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She would have been a few years younger than me and was neatly, but not expensively dressed, wore little if any make-up, and her hair appeared devoid of chemical manipulation, in other words the colour appeared natural. My memory of following her down the passageway was still fresh in my mind and did nothing to dissuade me that she was a very decorative Receptionist and not a Psychologist. Looks can be deceiving. ‘I guess that the starting point for me was when I missed out on a promotion to a ‘brown nose’, someone who spent more time sucking up to the boss than actually working. This was a blow to my self-confidence, not a major blow, but enough to start me doubting myself. Then this wonderful person goes behind my back and hits on my wife. She now lives with him, something that he continually rubs my nose in.’ ‘I can see how that would piss you off.’ ‘Piss me off’? This is definitely not Psych-speak. ‘Are you sure that you’re a Psychologist? I would bet major body parts that I.

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