Cara On the Couch

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This is either a lesbian story with strong fetish content or a fetish story with lesbian content. You and can decide which.


A story about Cara J., a very real librarian who has a thing for certain types of women, and although her tastes had always been somewhat narrow, as she aged she found herself changing. Recently though, she had started to become impulsive and careless in her approach to women, something that the ordinarily cool, calm and collected butch had never been before.


“Until recently I’ve been able to control myself,” the middle-aged librarian explained as she began to wrap up what what had been a lengthy monologue of her most intimate feelings and preoccupations and how they were affecting her life, most notably professionally.

“But lately I’ve become a bit obsessed about it. Maybe it’s because I might be going through my change of life, although I’m a bit young for that I think,” Cara continued. “I’m not 50 yet, but it’s just that it seems I’m always on fire.”

“Would you say you’ve always had a high sex drive?” the therapist said as she looked over at the very prim and proper brunette on her couch, whose appearance was the spitting image of the stereotypical librarian in both looks and dress and hardly one would associate with the outrageous and erotic acts she had described.

“Yes,” Cara admitted.

“And you’ve never had any experiences with men?” she asked her patient.

“One. My uncle,” Cara spat. “He forced himself on me when I was young. Ever since that I’ve despised men. It’s all I can do to deal with them on a professional level. Even that sometimes – well, every time I get the chance to denigrate or humiliate a man, I take it.”

“Your uncle, do you recall how that came about? Not the details but just what brought that on?”

“He found out about the… relationship I was having with his wife and he decided to fix me. Said I needed a man to cure my mental sickness,” Cara sneered.

“Oh,” therapist Latisha Baker said as she looked over her horn-rimmed glasses at the visibly angry woman. “Your aunt, had you seduced her?”

“No, it was the other way around,” Cara said. “I didn’t know much about anything at that point except that I had always found my Aunt Kate attractive and the things she did to me I loved.”

“How old were you at the time this went on?” Latisha asked.

“Young,” Cara replied, and when the therapist asked how young Cara said that she would rather not talk about that part of her life anymore. “At least not right now.”

“Fine. So since that day you’ve found yourself attracted only to women?” Ms. Baker confirmed, and after the librarian nodded she clarified, “Primarily younger women like you yourself had been then.”


“By young you mean…”

“Of legal age. I’ve been very careful about that,” Cara said. “I don’t want to disgrace the library or myself.”

“Because of your experience with your aunt?

“No,” Cara answered candidly. “Because I command a great deal of respect, a very good job and I don’t want to go to jail.”

“And it seems like you prefer these young ladies to be in lower positions than yourself? I mean that you find yourself drawn to those who you have control over,” Latisha went on. “Subordinates at work or those in the service fields that are answerable to you?”

“Yes,” Cara said.

“Any others?”

“Girls who are shy and naive – I’m also drawn to them. Girls who I think can be easily intimidated. When I see the expression on a girl’s face when she first sees my breasts it’s like I’m on the verge of orgasm.”

“How – I mean why is that?” Latisha asked.

“Because I’m very busty,” Cara replied, and when she saw the cocoa-toned woman look at her oddly she explained. “I know I don’t look bosomy, but I wear a breast compression band – it’s sort of like a bandage that binds my breasts and minimizes them. Would you like to see it?”

“Not right now thank you, but it sounds uncomfortable. Why do you do that?”

“It is a bit uncomfortable but I wear it because I prefer that to the discomfort of having men leer at me,” Cara detailed.

“Do you think your physical development is what fueled your uncle’s actions?”

“Probably helped.”

“And your aunt’s actions as well?”

“Could we not…”

“I’m sorry,” Latisha said. “Back to these things that spark your interest in certain women. You had mentioned being most attracted to hairy women. Can you expand on that? How does one know unless you see someone in a locker room setting?”

“I look at their arms. The sight of a young woman with hairy forearms sends chills down my spine because often that means they are furry elsewhere,” Cara explained. “Also, the presence of down around the front of her ears.”

“I suspect that these days, with the bombardment on TV for products for hair removal that there aren’t the number of women out there with the characteristics you seek.”

“That’s right. I think I was born too late,” Cara lamented. “Today poker oyna they don’t mind getting garish tattoos all over their bodies that last forever but the thought of not shaving their armpits every day revolts them.”

“That’s a particular thing you like? Women with armpit hair?”

“Yes,” Cara said not apologetically. “And the word ‘like’ hardly fits how I feel.”

“You earlier described this obsession as a fetish?”

“Others have told me that. I don’t like the word fetish because it implies something deviate. Hair is natural. Removing it is more strange to me,” Cara said.

“When you say others, do you mean other therapists?”

“No, I’ve never been to one of you people before. Those that have mentioned that word fetish were – lovers,” Cara said. “Usually those that I’ve dumped.”

“Now Cara, you said that you decided to speak to someone because you sensed that this obsession – let’s call it that – of yours was getting out of control.”

“Yes. I’ve learned that I’m developing a bit of a reputation around the library,” Cara explained. “Maybe I’m not as subtle as I once was. They just hired a student intern from a local college and I could feel other people’s eyes on me whenever I was around her.”

“And so you controlled yourself?”

“As best I could but I still couldn’t resist myself sometimes, especially when she was wearing a blouse with short or baggy sleeves,” Cara detailed, and when the therapist looked confused she went on. “Often times you can get a look down a girl’s sleeves at her armpits when they are reaching up and shelving books or something similar.”

“I see,” Latisha said with the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “You really have this down to a science. It would be easier if women wore sleeveless tops I guess.”

“Women who don’t shave rarely wear them,” Cara said. “I don’t blame them either. Look what happened to Julia Roberts a while back when she showed up in People magazine unshaven. Angeline Jolie can get geographical coordinates tattooed on her and that’s considered fine but a little hair?”

“It does seem strange when you say it that way,” the therapist agreed. “Is it just underarm hair that attracts you to a woman or is it any hair?”

“Pretty much anywhere, but armpit and pubic hair are my main obsessions,” Cara explained. “Hairy legs are nice but even more rare. Treasure trails I love too.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s when women have hair that starts at or around their navel and goes down to their pubic growth. That’s also a turn on for me,” Cara said. “The more the better too. If a woman complains that she thinks she’s too hairy, I say it’s like saying you’re too rich.”

“Is it the feel that excites you?”

“The feel, the scent,” Cara said. “The only aroma that repels me is that of deodorant. A little perfume I can take but deodorant? Terrible.”

“You don’t like the artificiality of it?”

“The stench of it, plus it burns the tongue and lips,” Cara explained.

“The – oh, I understand. You enjoy the natural scent of a woman.”

“Sweat doesn’t offend me – fresh sweat I revel in, especially if I helped cause it. That’s different than body odor. An unwashed woman does not attract me at all but fresh sweat is an aphrodisiac to me,” Cara concluded. “Probably more information than you needed I assume Ms. Baker?”

“Not at all. I appreciate your candor, Cara,” the therapist said. “We only have a couple more minutes. This student intern you spoke about. You said you think you did well in avoiding her as best you could. Don’t you feel that since you were able to avoid attempting to seduce this girl…”

“I didn’t say I didn’t try to seduce her, just tried to avoid seeing her when possible during the time she was there.”

“Oh, you mean that you did try?”

“The word try implies there was effort involved,” Cara smirked. “It was like taking candy from a baby. Easier in fact because babies cry and fuss”

“I see. You seem to be very self confident. Are you frequently successful?”


“What do you attribute that to?”

“I’m very persuasive, or so I’ve been told,” Cara said. “Many of my subordinates fear me. Also, while I know the wrapper isn’t all that fancy what’s underneath seems to not disappoint when it gets to that point.”

“Well thank you Cara,” the therapist said as she closed her notebook. “I think we got to know each other quite a bit over the course of the hour.”

“I hardly got to know anything about you,” Cara said as she rose and straightened out her blazer.

“Wouldn’t be right to charge you money and then talk about myself, but I do find you a very fascinating women and if you would like to schedule another session…”

“I’d love to.”

“Great. Next time we’ll get into these fantasies you have about your staff and how that’s affecting you at work. In the meantime until we talk again if you have any questions or just want to vent, feel free to drop me an e-mail,” Latisha said. “That would include writing down anything canlı poker oyna you wouldn’t feel comfortable about verbalizing.”

“I obviously haven’t held much back, judging by your reaction to my frequent bluntness. I will do just that,” Cara said as she reached out and shook the mocha hand with the impeccable nails, the contrasting hue of the therapist’s skin stark against Cara’s pale digits. “Next week then.”


Latisha Baker opened her e-mail up a few days later and while much of it was mundane she noticed one from her newest patient Cara J. so she skipped ahead to that one and found it anything but mundane.

It was just a normal thank you for the session type thing at the start, but Cara added at the end that she had done what the therapist had suggested. Warning her in advance, Cara said that she wrote about what she fantasizes about when meeting women, and in particular about what she fantasized about regarding her therapist.

Cara said that she wrote about this in the attachment she sent along with this note, and she should keep in mind what she spoke about during their session and if she chose not to read it, Cara understood.

Needless to say the therapist, who found the librarian as intriguing as she had been graphic, opened the attachment.


Ms. Baker,

I wanted to drop you a note to thank you for the session. It was refreshing to be able to speak freely without being judged, and while I know that you may not understand a lot of what I spoke of I think you got an idea of what makes me tick.

The question arose about my certain habit of fantasizing about young women who work with me or even students that come in to use the library, and while it’s something I’ve always engaged in it’s never been to this extent recently.

Since I was paying for the session with you, I took liberties while I spoke to you to observe you just as carefully as you were me. Maybe even more so, because you were attempting to look into my mind while as for myself, I was mentally undressing you.

You’re a very striking woman, Ms. Baker, and I’m sure you have heard that before many times. Your cheekbones are just perfect, and I loved your close cropped Afro. You project an air of strength and are used to being dominant, and that’s something I respect as I find most women to be submissive in nature. I suspect that you would be difficult to dominate, although the idea of attempting that arouses me.

While I was always dominant much of my life, recently I found myself in a situation where I was forced into being submissive by a butch mechanic fixing the elevator at work that I found attractive. She treated me much like I treat weak girls, and I was surprised to find I enjoyed it.

Nothing of what I say about you or your body regarding my mental undressing should be considered negative in any way, as I find the female form the most magnificent creation that exists.

I saw you as being in your early 30’s, putting you roughly a generation younger than me, older than what I usually pursue but you are a woman I would make an exception for. You’re tall – very tall – and I’m guessing at close to 6′ tall. Although your very attractive garments were layered I imagined your body as androgynous, without a trace of fat on your sleek form.

Your flowing skirt was long and revealed little, although for a brief second I swore I got a glimpse of your lower calves. Was it just my imagination when through your stockings I swore I saw hair on your legs, pressed down by the hosiery? This happened just after I spoke about how few women left their legs unshaven and you crossed your legs.

Your ebony skin aroused me. Never having experienced a black woman I wondered how your skin would taste, and what your hair would feel like. I pictured myself licking every inch of your body and making your skin glisten with my saliva.

Suffice to say that the idea of actually seeing your legs, as well as the rest of your body once again has interested me greatly. I hope the idea of me mentally undressing you does not bother you. I’ve found most women consider it flattering, yet if you happen to be fervently heterosexual you may find the idea of a lesbian doing that to you disturbing, much like I would if a man did that to me.

Therefore, if you would prefer to not go through with my appointment next week, please have your staff discretely contact me and I’ll not bother you again.




“I’m pleased you agreed to meet me at my home Cara,” Latisha Baker said as she let Cara into her uptown apartment. “This way we don’t have to deal with phones ringing and other distractions, not to mention that given the sensitive nature of our discussion, well , sometimes the walls have ears no matter how discreet you try to be.”

“You have a stunning apartment,” Cara noted as she looked at the view of the city through the window while her host made them cocktail. “Your taste is impeccable as well.”

“Thank you.”

“I take it you received internet casino my e-mail,” Cara asked, and after Dr. Baker nodded she added, “I thought it might be easier to put my thoughts in print but I think the fear of someone else getting hold of it tempered my words.”

“Understandable Cara, but it was still somewhat graphic,” Latisha replied. “I was…”


“Hardly. A better word would be intrigued,” Latisha mused aloud. “Maybe even aroused. Reading about someone wanting to lick every pore of your body is something new to me. Not the actual act itself but someone writing about it.”

Latisha rose from the chair, her long silk mahogany and black toned robe flowing behind her as she moved to the bar, and after putting another ice cube in her drink leaned against it as Cara joined her.

“I’m stunned at how tall you are,” Cara mentioned as she got near the therapist. “Even barefoot you’re more than a head taller than I am.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No, you look very elegant,” Cara noted. “Especially with your robe with the African images on it. It’s stunning.”

“Thank you Cara,” Latisha said. “I must confess. I was running a little late so after I took a shower you rang the bell so I just threw this on without putting anything on underneath.”


“What are you thinking about Cara?” Latisha mused with an amused look on her face. “I hear the wheels grinding.”

“Just wondering whether I had left the copies of statutes in that lawmaker’s mail drop before I left work,” Cara said dryly before smiling and saying, “No, I was just trying to will your robe to slide off. Sorry.”

“About what? I’m not offended. As a matter of fact I was just thinking about something you mentioned during your earlier session. Something about a breast compression band you wore? I was trying to figure out what that was all about.”

“Would you like to see it?” Cara eagerly offered, and after Latisha shrugged the librarian wasted no time in removing her blazer, and after setting it aside unbuttoned her long sleeved blouse, her fingers a little shaky as they went down the row.

“There,” Cara announced as she took the blouse off, leaving her wearing only the thick beige band that went from just above her waist to just under her arms, and while the decidedly middle aged woman’s body was short and a little thick in the waist Cara stood there unashamed in front of the much younger woman.

“Fascinating,” Latisha exclaimed as she looked the librarian over, walking around the pale skinned woman and looking the band over. “And you just wrap it around you and those clasps keep it in place?”

“Yes, but it has to be done tightly or else it doesn’t do what it’s designed to do.”

“I see it’s tight. It must be so uncomfortable,” Latisha noted, pointing at the way the band dug into her skin near the fold of Cara’s arms.

“Somewhat,” Cara agreed as she lifted her arms slightly so the therapist could see better.

“Hmm,” Latisha mused as she reached over, stopping when she caught what she was doing. “Forgive me.”

“What? No, that’s okay. I don’t mind,” Cara said, even lifting her arm higher so her therapist could see what she was almost touching better. “I’ve never shaved my armpits, or anywhere else. Ironic isn’t it, that a woman with practically no body hair could be so obsessed with hairy women?”

“Not really,” Latisha responded as she let her hand continue this time, brushing the thin strip of brown hairs that grew in the center of the otherwise creamy white hollow and making the librarian shiver. “Don’t we often crave what we don’t have or what others possess?”

“Quite true,” Cara agreed as she lowered her arm.

“So you put this band on in the morning and take it off when you retire at night?”

“No, there would be no need for me to wear it after I get home,” Cara explained. “Once I get in the door it comes off. There’s no one there to see me except the cat and occasionally the cleaning woman. I don’t wear it under controlled situations either.”

“Such as?”

“If I’m having a woman friend over, or I’m going someplace where I know there won’t be men around,” Cara told her. “To be frank in situations like that I revel in being able to let women see me as I am.”

“I know you said this but – You hate men that much?” Latisha asked. “Not to allow them a glimpse of your – ahem – assets I guess would be a term?”


“Some might think that showing people something knowing they could never have it might be satisfying as well.”

“My stomach turns. Every man I see looks like my uncle. Not fair to be sure, but my uncle wasn’t fair.”

“I suppose so,” Latisha agreed as she sipped her drink. “I guess this would mean that if we held this session at your place you wouldn’t be wearing that band.”

“Exactly. The fact that you’re so much better looking than I am doesn’t faze me a bit.”

“Nor should it although your have a certain look about you that I find interesting,” the therapist replied. “And I suppose this means that if you didn’t come here after work, you would be home – unbound?”

“Exactly Dr. Baker.” Cara replied, and then asked, “Would you like me to take this off so you can see what it does?’

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