Perhaps not the usual type of story that one might find on this site, but after submitting it to mumsnet and finding the response amazing, my husband thought that it may also arouse some interest on here for different reasons. It begins with me, a long standing issue with anxiety and mild depression, led to me considering psycho therapy, the NHS although good had extensive waiting lists. This led to me making enquiries locally, and the same name came up, with glowing reports from some female acquaintances, he wasnt cheap, but seemed very successful. After talking it over with John my husband ; I booked an appointment. Naturally I was nervous on the day, but as john dropped me off, Anthony the therapist immediately put my mind at rest. He explained fully how he worked, mentioned that others in the profession felt some of his methods were unconventional, but his results were very good. Finally he explained that mild hypnosis would be used occasionally where appropriate. I was there for over two hours, covering many aspects of my life and thoughts and worries, real and otherwise. Two more appointments and Anthony knew everything about me, and indeed John. I had told him everything; I was so relaxed in his presence, he spoke in such low smooth tones and his eyes seemed to bore into mine, it seemed quite normal to tell him everything, such as John taking pictures of me in my underwear and putting them on a well known site. The fact that I always wore stockings not tights, that John had erection issues, and that we used sex toys often. I told him I liked to look pretty, liked it when other guys noticed me, that I favoured retro dresses and skirts. I had never disclosed as much to any one, not even John. All this of course was in addition to my concerns real and imaginary. Towards the end of the third session, Anthony suggested that he would also like to see my retro style of dress, up to now I had turned up in T shirts and jeans. Once again his request seemed perfectly normal to me. So the morning of the fourth appointment arrived, strangely I was a little excited. I took quite some time, to decide on a 1940 blue button front dress with white buttons and white dots on the dress, cream heels with tie bows, cream stockings, along with white satin bra and six strap suspender belt and white french knickers, bright red lipstick, a little rouge and black eyeliner, finished off with a cream cloche hat. I thought I looked good. This time I had to drive myself, John had gone golfing, this also meant I had to take our two seat sports car, which I dont normally drive. The tyres crunched on the gravel as I drove up to his house, he was waiting as I arrived. Opening my door for me, he spoke gently welcoming me and commenting on my appearance. As I swung my legs out of the car, he could clearly see up my dress, in my mind it was just as if it was John was there, thus it didnt matter at all that I was on display, it just seemed perfectly natural. In his study we had tea, then Anthony asked if he could also take some pictures, similar to those that John took. Amazingly I agreed without hesitation, we spent the next hour, with me posing around the house, dress lifted stockings and knickers on display , dress unbuttoned breasts popped out of my bra, leaning over sofas; finally we ended up outside with me draped across the car, spreadeagled on the bonnet of the mx5. I was actually enjoying myself and becoming more aroused as we continued, when Anthony asked if I had ever had sex in this car, when I said no, he indicated that was something that should be corrected. I was draped over the wing of the car, my dress fully unbuttoned, legs apart, Anthony simply stood between my legs and lifted them off the ground. I rested them on his hips as he gently took hold of the waistband of my full french knickers and drew them down over my shoes, unzipping himself , he drew me towards him, slipping almost effortlessly into me, it was all so surreal , the sun shining, me unbelievably relaxed and lost in the moment. He used no protection, but it didnt seem to matter, my orgasm seemed to last forever, as I squeezed my lips onto his shaft; I could feel him pumping his fluid into me, so much that it was trickling out of me onto the car. He stayed inside me for what seemed ages , gently withdrawing his cock, he wiped both me and himself with my knickers, which unbelievably made me laugh. I had just had sex with another man, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world. I felt so relaxed and fulfilled. I spent another hour him ,just talking, he suggested that I might like to dress in a similar way, should I want to have further sessions, making me laugh again. That evening I discussed the whole session with my husband, initially I am sure that he wanted to go around to Anthony and sort him out, or alternatively report him. However he had to agree that the months therapy had helped me enormously; I was happier, hadnt been depressed for weeks. I assured him that even the sex therapy aspect which initially could be viewed as taking advantage, actually seemed very normal and that I felt as if in another place during the session. In any event I now see Anthony once a month, for combined councelling and sexual therapy. In fact two other ladies that I know also are under Anthony after my reccomendation