THE PRACTICED PRACTITIONER  Marcello Ottimosesso is a psychoanalyst practicing in Venice. Very appreciated by a large part of the local bourgeoisie.1932, under the fascist regime of Mussolini, his profession is not in the odor of sanctity... but he continues to practice despite everything.That day, he received Antonella Succhiacazzi, a young bride.— Buongiorno... you are early, said the practitioner as he entered the waiting room.“You too,” she smiled.Antonella, contrary to these past habits, dressed very strictly “bourgeois”, so as not to incur the wrath of the Mussolini bigots.He brought her into his office before him.The place is full of bookcases where the books are packed tightly together. A large rug is spread out on the parquet floor. There is a desk, an armchair and a couch. But what surprises Antonella the most is a statue of Priapus, god of fertility, with a member of impressive size.— Yes, I know, it always surprises, explains the psychoanalyst, very courteously... but settle down.- On the couch ?— Of course... there is no other choice.“Well yes,” she said with a flirtatious smile.- I don't understand.— My husband wants me to give myself to you... on one condition.Marcello, although accustomed to the whims of some of his patients, can only be surprised by this preamble.- But why ? And what is the condition, he questions.— Because I read your pornographic novel, which you published under a false name... He blushes and crosses his legs as if to hide his emotion. — ...and that this novel really excited us both. Also the condition is that my husband joins us to act out one of the scenes from your book.- Which ? he says surprised.— You will see... don't you tell your heroine, Armance, that “Mystery is the carpet of eroticism, and that it is so pleasant to lie down on it while offering yourself.”— I see that you enjoyed this... early novel, he tries to justify himself.- SO ?He unclenches his legs, revealing a pronounced bump in his crotch.— Well... okay... but I'm very curious about the scene you chose.- I know.She gets up, goes to the phone on the desk and calls her husband.“Sandro, you can come,” she whispers before hanging up.— When will he arrive? Marcello asks without giving the impression that he is impatient.— In two minutes, he was waiting at the local café.***The husband, Sandro, is a handsome man, muscular, tall and rather slender, with a confident, dominating look. He positioned himself behind Marcello. Pressing against him, he pulls down his pants, nibbling his ear.— You want it, right?Marcello doesn't dare say anything, he lets it happen, while his “patient” helping her husband lower their companion's pants to his ankles, begins to stroke his balls.— How beautiful they are! And very full.Sandro, undoing his ow ...

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