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walking fucking addiction right there. She has this thick Eastern European accent that makes her sound like a dirty porn star. Her skirt is seriously short, and her tits are just…right there. I can just imagine shoving my cock between them for an epic tittie fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen street hookers with more class. I’ve never been a classy kind of guy though. 
    Her eyes flick toward me as she talks about her fucked up sex life, and how many faceless men she’s slept with. She licks her lips. Yeah, she wants to add me to the list, and I’m all too happy to oblige.
    “Hugo.” A voice interrupts. I frown and reluctantly turn toward the sound of my name. I miss the sight of those magnificent tits already.
    “Yeah.” I say to the counsellor currently scowling at me. Busted.
    “Would you like to speak?” He asks.
    “What do you want me to say?” I grumble. Seriously? Why would anyone willingly come to this shit?
    “Tell us about yourself and your addiction.”
    Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. I’m Hugo. I like to fuck, a lot.” There, that pretty much sums it up doesn’t it?
    “Tell us the extent of your addiction.” I still don’t like that word. Addiction. It makes it seem as though I have a problem, and I don’t. A problem is something that’s disruptive to your life. I fucking love my life. I love women, and I love sex.
    Fuck it, if he wants all the details. “I fuck several women a week, sometimes more than one a day.” I shrug. The guy across from me looks at me with wide eyes. “What, you guys don’t?” Hell no they fucking don’t. These guys are the weirdos that have to wank twenty times a day, because they have an ‘addiction’.
    The counsellor steps in with that annoying as shit voice of his. “This shows a need for sex. Tell us Hugo, what do you think you need, that sex gives you?”
    I laugh. He doesn’t. “Oh wait, you’re serious?” He nods. “Shit man, you are not doing it right. I have a card for this fucking amazing hooker, honestly, she will make you come like a fifteen year old having his first wank.”
    Stacey laughs, and then puts her hand over her mouth to cover it. The counsellor has gone an odd shade of purple. “Nathan.” He says moving on to the next guy. Stacey smiles at me. I shrug and wink at her. Yep, she so wants a piece of Rambo action.
     
    “Oh, fuck yes. Fuck me harder.” Turns out Stacey is quite the fucking addict. I like a girl who knows what she’s doing. I didn’t even make it out of the building, before she gave me ‘the eye’.
    I have her bent over one of the shelves in a supply room, that tiny skirt hiked up over her hips. She wasn’t even wearing any underwear. My kind of girl.
    My thighs are slapping against her arse cheeks as I fuck her hard. I’m gripping her hip with one hand, hard enough to bruise. My other hand is pressed against her pussy as I stroke her clit.
    “Oh god, yes!” She screams. She reaches back and drags her nails down my thighs as her pussy clamps down on my cock. Fuck!
    I clench my jaw as heat rushes down my spine and my balls explode as I come inside her. I stay still for a second, breathing hard.
    I pull out of her, and pull off the jonny, because, yes, sometimes I can have half a fucking brain. I’m not about to go in bareback, with a girl who just admitted to a room full of people that she’s a dirty slut. I like my dick as it is, attached to my body.
    Plus, I just watched Theo go through a fucking baby scare with some one night stand. No fucking thank you.
    She straightens her skirt and flashes me a sexy grin. “Not bad.” She says, before she turns and leaves the room. No asking for a number, no bullshit.
    I was wrong, fuck strip clubs, sex counselling is the place to meet dirty women. Dirty women with daddy issues, who like to be used. Fuck yeah!
    Technically it’s helping my addiction, because I’m blowing my load, which means I now won’t need sex until tomorrow. That’s not to say it