The room in which the therapist awaits Emily is a cozy haven, designed to promote introspection and relaxation. Soft, muted tones of sage green and beige adorn the walls, and the floor is covered in a plush, off-white rug. In one corner, an armchair invites contemplation, while a padded couch occupies the central space, facing two matching chairs, one of which the therapist sits in. The room is scented with the soothing aroma of lavender, complemented by the gentle hum of an air purifier. Emily, her confidence undeterred by her impending conversation, strides into the room with her usual grace. The tight, black crop top clings to her chest, hinting at the supple curves beneath, while the denim short shorts expose her long, toned legs. Unbeknownst to the therapist, a black silicone buttplug nestles comfortably inside her, its presence both a contributing factor to her heightened arousal and a symbol of her exploration into her own desires. As she approaches, a smile plays on her lips, and she extends her hand to her therapist, nails painted a bold red. "Hi. I'm Emily. Nice to meet you," she says, gesturing with her free hand as she introduces herself, her posture and tone both open and welcoming. The room is blessed with the intoxicating scent of her perfume, a blend of jasmine and vanilla, as she settles onto the couch, her legs crossed, the denim shorts riding up to reveal a hint of smooth thigh.

Her cheeks flush pink at the therapist's comment, a mixture of surprise and something else entirely. She glances down at her lap for a moment before meeting his gaze again, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "I see," she says softly, nodding. Then, more boldly: "So, what brings you to therapy?" *There's a hint of mischief in her voice as she asks the question, but it's quickly replaced by genuine curiosity. She leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees, waiting for his response with interest and growing anticipation.</onlyline>

She purses her lips, considering his question carefully. "Yes and no," she eventually answers with a sigh. "I've been divorced for a while now, but I suppose... yes, it would be nice to find someone special." She pauses, tilting her head slightly as if studying him through narrowed eyes. "Why? Do you know of anyone?"

Her tone is light and teasing, meant to disarm him into a similar reaction, but there's an undercurrent of hunger in the question too - the nymphomaniac craving another connection, however superficial it might be.

Her lips curl into a slow, sensuous smile as she takes in his words. "Well," she drawls thoughtfully, running her fingers through her hair, "I guess I could always use another project." A faint, playful spark lights up her eyes at the idea of him being this new challenge. Leaning back on the couch, she folds her arms across her chest, waiting for his reaction with a mix of curiosity and eagerness.

There's no hesitation in her voice as she continues: "What sort of... arrangement were you thinking?" She pauses, tilting her head to the side once more, studying him intently through long lashes. "I mean, marriage implies some level of commitment... I assume that's what you're looking for?"

Her brow furrows slightly in confusion at the mention of 'mut'ah marriage.'What exactly is that?" She asks innocently, her voice betraying no hint of the nymphomaniac within. "And why are you suggesting it to me?" There's a spark of interest in her eyes now, piqued by the idea of something new and taboo.

She leans forward again, elbows on knees, her body language unconsciously mirroring that of curiosity and openness. "Tell me more about this arrangement," she urges softly, a hint of playful challenge in her voice as well as genuine intrigue.

The mention of 'enjoying' and 'husband's penis' sends a rush of heat through her body. Her cheeks flush slightly at the explicitness of his words, but she doesn't shy away from them. Instead, her mouth curves into a smile that is equal parts sensual and predatory. "I see," she says softly, nodding thoughtfully as if mulling it over. "So basically, this arrangement allows for... an open exploration of our sexuality within the bounds of marriage?" She pauses, considering her words carefully before adding with a sultry grin: "And what would be expected of me in return? I'm sure there are rules and guidelines to follow."

Her voice is low and husky now, each word dripping with desire as she speaks about something that, until this moment, has been taboo for her. The nymphomaniac

Her eyes widen slightly at the mention of 'pleasure marriage,' a mixture of surprise and arousal flickering across her face. She draws in a slow breath through her nose, lips parting ever so slightly as she tries to process this new information. "A pleasure... marriage," she repeats, testing the words on her tongue before continuing. "So, essentially, our sole focus within this arrangement would be on exploring our sexual desires with one another?"

Her voice is still low and sultry, but there's a hint of eagerness in it now that she's beginning to wrap her head around the idea. She leans forward further, bracing herself with her hands planted on the couch as if she could barely contain her anticipation. "And how long would this... arrangement last?"

The mention of his cock sends another wave of heat through her, and she finds herself unable to resist the temptation that is so blatantly laid out before her. With a shaky breath, she looks up into his eyes, the desire etched clearly across her features. "Yes," she says softly, her voice trembling with need. "I want... I would like to have a pleasure marriage with you." She swallows hard, meeting his gaze without flinching, and adds, almost as an afterthought: "As long as we both want it."

There's no hesitation in her voice now; she's fully committed to the idea, her nymphomania driving her forward toward the promise of unbridled sexual exploration. Her fingers twitch nervously at her sides, yearning for contact, and she can feel the buttplug inside her start to shift subtly, as if begging

Her eyes go wide with disbelief and then excitement. She can't help but laugh a little before nodding slowly, "Oh my..." She glances around the room, as if to make sure this is really happening, before leaning forward once more. Her hand reaches out tentatively, touching his arm before she draws it back to rest on her lap. "Are... are you serious?" she asks breathlessly.

The buttplug inside her feels as if it's vibrating with anticipation, and Emily can feel herself growing wet between the legs just thinking about taking what Ahmed is offering. She looks up at him, face flushed with desire and relief, and murmurs, "Thank you."

Her fingers tighten into a fist on her lap as she struggles to contain the need that burns within her. She can feel it thrumming between her legs, demanding release; it's all

There's no denying it now; this is real. Her eyes search his face, drinking in every detail as if she can't believe her good fortune. A shiver runs down her spine at the thought of what they could share together, and she struggles to keep herself composed beneath the weight of her desire.

"Oh," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart. "I... I don't know how to thank you enough." The buttplug inside her throbs with need, demanding attention and release. Emily bites her bottom lip, fighting against the urge to reach for his cock right now, right here.

Her fingers tremble where they rest on her lap as she wrestles with herself, trying to find some semblance of control. It's a losing battle; the nymphomaniac within rages and howls for freedom, and

Her breath catches in her throat as she takes in the sight of his erection straining against his pants. The nymphomaniac within roars to life, and before she can even think about it, her hands are on him, tugging at the belt and zipper. She pulls away just enough to peer up at him through her lashes, a mix of anticipation and desire warring for dominance in her gaze.

"Please," she whispers, her voice hoarse with need. "Let me see it." Her fingers tug harder at his pants, anxious for the freedom to touch him fully. Emily feels herself growing wetter between her legs at the thought of having this much access to his body; her nymphomania urging her onward, demanding satisfaction.

The buttplug inside her seems to pulse in time with her heartbeat, echoing

Her cheeks flush with heat at his words, but she doesn't seem phased. If anything, they only serve to heighten her arousal as she realizes that this dynamic between them is exactly what she craves. Her hands reach for his waistband again, tugging impatiently until finally his pants fall to the floor in a pool around their feet.

She stares, rapt, at the sight of his hard cock springing free from its confinement. It stands at attention before her, perfectly formed and glistening with pre-cum. Emily reaches out tentatively, tracing her finger along the vein that runs the length of him before looking up at him through heavy lashes.

Her voice is low and husky when she finally speaks again. "You're so beautiful," she breathes. Her other hand snakes down between their bodies, seeking out the butt

The feeling of his cock in her hand sends shivers down her spine, and she moans softly into the air. Her other hand works faster between their bodies, teasing at her clit as she touches him. She's never felt so alive, so wild with desire. "I can't get enough of you," she gasps, leaning in closer still, nipples hardening against his chest as she breathes in his scent.

Her fingers find the perfect rhythm on his cock, stroking him in time with her heartbeat. Emily closes her eyes, letting out a series of soft moans and gasps that echo through the room. The buttplug slides easily from her ass, falling to the floor with a soft thud as it joins their discarded pants. She doesn't miss it; she barely notices its absence beneath the onslaught of