Let's set the record straight about doctors. We're just as human and horny as everyone else. Christ. When I was in medical school our professor used a live girl, with large luscious tits, to demonstrate the various warning signs of cancer. As he held one of her soft tits in his hand, you could hear loud panting in the back of the classroom. Everyone in the back row was jerking off. And if you checked the professor carefully, you could clearly see he was just as humanly responsive. You wonder why medical students are so willing to work their asses off eighteen to twenty hours a day, for years? When we get our license to practice, we get our license to touch. You don't treat those prospects lightly when you're twenty, horny and frustrated. If it weren't for the sex drive... there wouldn't be many doctors in this country.
So don't assume, just because my name is Dr. Morris Freid, that blood doesn't rush to my cock just as fast as the next fellow. The fact is, all the doctors who keep their hands to themselves -- all the doctors who are true-blue to the so-called ethics of our profession-have one thing in common. They're all over seventy. And even some of them, from force of habit, will thrust an unnecessary, ungloved hand up a cunt to check for the first signs of a cold.
What differentiates us doctors from everyone else is that we're not "allowed" to have any sexual feelings. You take your normal, everyday construction worker. A chick swishes by, with her skirt so high that her cunt greets you with a "hello," and he's going to say something. "Hey baby. I'd love to shove, it in you." That's okay. Healthy and hearty. But if you're a doctor, and you're giving Racquel Welch a physical, different rules apply. You've got to be cool. You've got to keep your eyes from bulging out. You've got to keep the perspiration from happening. You've got to keep the bulge in your pants from showing. Why do you suppose doctors wear long shirts that cover their crotch? We doctors are no different from anyone else. We just don't have the freedom to show how similar we are. The word is "cool." No expression. Even professional tone. Hide all your heated symptoms. With that facade, it's amazing what we doctors get away with.
Take your annual tit examination. If Miss Flat chested is getting a check-up, her tits get about ten seconds flat. But let's say Racquel walks in your office. "Is there any tenderness when I squeeze your breasts like this? Are your nipples tender? How about when I touch them like this? What's this little mark here (every woman has some mark on her breasts, somewhere)? Here's how you give yourself a test for cancer... no... not like that... like this." Every female that's well endowed has heard these lines from her doctor. It's simply standard operating procedure. And everybody knows it. The whole thing is, the doctor's got to keep his cool. Got to keep the hardening of the glands to himself. The minute he blows it, the minute his probing fingers become a little too excited -- assuming the gal he's feeling up isn't a perfect dope -- he's had it. Zap. A suit. And he's out of business.
When I was a General Practitioner, I gave thousands of physicals. Some of them to the softest, most luscious creatures that walk this earth. And yes, I've squeezed every symptom out of their tits. Twiddled every potential disease out of their cuts. But always with that cool. Always with that professional air. But never... never ... had I ever seduced a patient. And I was proud of that, because I was a member of a dying breed of doctor. But I figured it this way. I spent too many exhausting days and nights in medical school. Too many years of blood, sweat and tears to throw it all away for the sake of a fast fuck. That was the rational way to think about it. And that was the way I had thought about it until that Tuesday morning. That was when the irrational part of me started to take over.
I don't know why I was so damned horny that Tuesday morning. All I know is, I was sitting back in my recliner waiting for my first patient. I was looking over the notes from my last session with her. At' the end of the last hour, Jeannette had been talking about how upset she was when Freddie maliciously knocked over her block house in kindergarten. I lay back and closed my eyes, thinking about the implications of that childhood trauma. In the darkness of my mind, Jeannette was moving toward me, stark naked, with her big tits slowly swinging back and forth.
"Do me, Doctor. Do me," Jeannette said. It was not the kind of behavior I'd expect from Jeannette. She was much too shy for that. But in my mind, she kept pleading, "do me, do me."
"You immoral thing, you," I said to myself, and I tried to flush the image from my mind. But it persisted. Jeannette now took both of her yummy tits in her hands and offered them to me.
"Do you want them, - Doctor? They're for you to play with."
I checked my watch. About five mining before Jeannette was due at the office.
"Do me in the cunt," Jeannette was saying, holding her slit open with two fingers, "Do it to me now, Doctor."
Then I opened my eyes. This was really quite peculiar, I thought. I couldn't-for the life of me -- figure why I was just so damned horny that morning.
Why, just the night before, Alice and I had had a string of orgasms on the floor of the broom closet. Our orgasms always happened in peculiar places, or with peculiar objects, or in peculiar positions. We liked to have variety.
Until that morning, I had felt that my wife was about all I could handle sexually. She was constantly horny, always ready to do it. Even if a cartoon was on television, she'd find something to be horny about.
"Oh, look Morris. It's Mighty Mouse. I wonder how big his dong is. C'mon, honey, let's fuck."
Remember that Alka Seltzer commercial where the wife tells her nauseated husband that they'll have marshmallowed meatballs for supper? That turned Alice on.
"Marshmallowed meatballs. That's not disgusting. That's absolutely sensuous. Morris, do you know that's what your balls taste like? C'mere, sweetness. I'd like to make sure."
Christ. She'd practically come when the alarm went off. So I wasn't wanting. And my wife wasn't really the cause of it. Maybe it was the seven year itch. That's how long I had been a practicing psychiatrist. But I wasn't going to worry about it. I was going to enjoy it. After all, I may have been a doctor. But I was only human.
* * *
Then Jeannette walked in. I lifted my notebook and pencil, crossed my legs and smiled.
"How do you feel about that?" I said. Real cool.
She walked over to the edge of couch and sat down. "About what?" She started chewing on her nails. She always did that. "I didn't say anything, yet."
"About Freddie. Knocking your blocks over. Remember... last session? I'll bet you thought I wasn't listening. But I fooled you. I was."
"Oh, that," she said. She blushed a little. Blushing and nail biting were the symptoms of her neurosis.
I studied her carefully, during the long silence. With Jeannette, there were always long silences. She wasn't a big talker. Tits. Definitely. Even under her loose knit sweater the breasts puffed out. Nice, round squeezeable ass. It bobbled when she walked. Short black hair. Just enough to yank, when my sweet juices flew. An adorable mouth. With a circumference simply guaranteed to fit my stiff prick perfectly.
I smiled again at her, and started taking notes with my pencil.
take it easy, doc. cool, doc. not yet. be subtle, you horny fuck, you.
I had to clear my throat before I spoke. And wipe my brow. I kept the notebook down on my crotch to keep the hard evidence hidden.
"Well, Jeannette, I've been doing a lot of thinking about your condition. You've been seeing me for about six months now and your progress has been... well, let's just say it hasn't been terrific. You still bite your nails. You still blush. You still have that $65 a week secretarial job, same one that you had three years ago. That's an awfully long time to go without getting a raise. Or even asking for one."
More nail biting. The blush held.
I went on. "At least, if you went out once in a while, you might meet yourself a husband who would care for you. But you're too shy. You just stay around the house. Don't you feel guilty making your father pay for all these sessions . . when you've made such little progress?"
"I suppose so," she said.
"Well, I can understand that," I said. "So I thought we might try something a little different this session. After much consideration, I've decided that perhaps we just spend too much time talking. Maybe another method might be more helpful."
"Another method?"
My prick pushed painfully against my trousers. At the age of thirty-nine, Doctor Morris Freid was definitely coming back to life.
"Yes. A method suggested by Dr. Sigmund Freud. You know who he was, don't you?"
"Was he... a musician?" Answers like that partially explained her financial earning problems.
"No ..."
"A politician?"
"You're not close at all, Jeannette."
"Wait," she said, putting both hands to her lovely head, "don't tell me." She concentrated hard. I remained hard. "Was he a doctor?"
"Yes. Good, Jeannette. A very famous doctor. A psychiatrist who actually invented modern day psychiatry. He is the father of analysis."
"Yes," she agreed, continuing her nail biting.
"Well, I'll bet you can't tell me what his method was, can you?" Questions are a wonderful way to involve the patient in reality.
"Well... I don't know."
"Most people don't, Jeannette. So don't feel bad. But I've studied Freud carefully. He suggests that his difficult patients take all their clothes off. Their sweaters. And slacks. Their bras. Their undies. Every last stitch."
She looked at me quizzically, blushing practically purple.
"And he suggested this method... so his patients could feel free... " I raised both arms in a gesture of complete liberation. "He says that when a patient removes their clothing, they have no more neurotic defenses. All that is left is freedom and happiness. It forces the patient to open up. Even the American Medical Association recommends this method."
Jeannette started fidgeting with her hair. She was obviously having a little trouble with the suggestion. With Freud and the A.M.A. on my side, I couldn't lose.
"What?" she said, finally.
Neurotics like to pull that one. When they don't like what they've heard, they simply make believe they didn't hear it. But I knew she heard me. Her nail biting had now increased, and she blushed deeper. She wouldn't even look at me.
"I said, Dr. Freud suggests you take all your clothes off."
"Oh, dear. Must I?" she inquired meekly.
"Not if you don't want to, Jeannette. Here, in this office, you do only what you want to do. And if taking all your clothes off, like the famous, successful, highly respected Dr. Freud suggests, is too difficult, then keep them on. Of course, your blushing and nail biting will probably stay with you for the rest of your life like a nightmare. And you may be stuck at $65 a week for a long time. But of course, it's entirely up to you."
"You mean, I'll be cured if I take my clothes off?"
I knew if she took them off, I at least would be cured.
"Let's just say it's a start in the right direction. But I do understand why you're having such trouble with the suggestion."
"You do?" Her legs separated ever so slightly. Her black slacks were tight against the thighs.
"Of course. You're uncomfortable because I'm a man. You'll be embarrassed. Quite a normal reaction for a neurotic. But you see, as a doctor, I've seen, touched and examined so many female bodies that it's no more interesting than... turning on a faucet."
"I don't know," she said with a little shrug of her soft shoulders, "I guess I'd just feel silly."
"And that is a perfectly normal reaction. Freud discussed that reaction in one of his books. Freud said, let me quote if my memory serves me, 'the feeling of silliness is natural and to be expected. But once the patient removes all their clothing, these feelings are swept away with new feelings of joy and freedom.' " My entire body was feverish and horny. "Joy and freedom. That phrase has such a wonderful ring to it. Don't you think, Jeannette?"
"Yes. I suppose it does:"' "Good, Jeannette. I'm glad you're able to see it my... uh, Freud's way." I stroked my goatee and tried to smile casually. "You can start now."
"Start?"
"Yes. Removing the clothes. Oh, Dr. Freud would be so pleased with you."
"But... I can't."
"Oh, sure you can. Tell you what. Go over to my window and look out. Tell me everything you see, and how you feel about it."
"What will that do?" she asked.
"You'll see," I said. "Now go to the window, and don't turn around till I say ready."
Jeannette again shrugged her shoulders and got up. She moved her wonderful body to the window. Her round asscheeks seemed to beg for action, but I held on.
"I see Central Park."
"Good. Keep telling me," I said. I removed my tie. "There's a balloon man sitting by a tree. He looks so peaceful."
"That's nice." My jacket and shirt were off in a second.
"There's a lake up there. A couple of people are rowing in boats."
"How splendid. How does that make you feel?" My shoes and trousers were next.
"It feels... relaxing."
"Anything else?" The underpants, with some difficulty since I was hard as a rock, came off next.
"The sun is shining."
Now I was stark naked, my huge cock poking out in front of me. I took my notebook and pencil and held them professionally in front of me, after leaning back in my recliner.
"You can turn around, now Jeannette."
Jeannette turned her head, saw me, and immediately turned it back to look out the window."
"Dr. Freid! You're naked!" Both hands went up to her mouth for more nail biting.
"Of course, I'm naked. Just showing you how easy it is. One, two, three. Now, turn around."
Slowly, she pivoted, then gazed intently at me. Particularly at my stiff prick.
"See? Freud feels if the doctor accompanies the patient -- in the removal of the clothing -- that the patient will feel even more relaxed." My cock was anything but relaxed.
"But... "
"No buts."
"But... you're all hard, like you're excited."
"Come, child. A perfectly normal reaction to the draft in the room. Same thing happens to a woman's nipples when they're cold. Now. Shall we get started?" Jeannette started by removing her sweater. She lifted it carefully over her head. Her lacy, white bra was stuffed to overflowing. My cock throbbed. She looked at me for encouragement. I nodded.
"That's good. Please go on." My heart was beating furiously.
Jeannette's small hands found the clasp on her brassiere and she unhooked it. Her enormous tits flopped out. Carefully she placed her bra on my windowsill.
"Joy and freedom," I said encouragingly. Her tits were white as snow, each topped with a hard cherry. The draft had got to her, too. I rhythmically pushed my notebook against my hard cock.
Jeannette just stood there, nude from the waist, her arms hanging helplessly at her sides. One finger went into her mouth. She bit the nail off entirely. My balls tingled with excitement. Then, embarrassed, she turned away from me, so her lovely, perfect back was to me.
"Now, now Jeannette. Mustn't feel uncomfortable." My voice was crusty and my whole body was trembling with excitement. "You mustn't feel it's necessary to turn away from me. What do you think I am... some kind of half-crazed horny doctor trying to take advantage of you? Look at my diplomas on the wall. Do you know how many hard years of sweat went into them? Do you think I'd fling them out the door so casually? No, Jeannette. This is serious business, analysis. You must remove all your clothes. The whole idea is to feel free. Why, do you know that in the Fiji Islands, they've never even heard of clothes, Jeannette? And let me tell you. The women walk around there proud and free and happy. So let yourself go, Jeannette. Don't hold yourself back. Let yourself go." Seeing that divine half-naked creature there... my juices almost let themselves go. But I controlled myself. A doctor has to have some self-control.
Slowly, Jeannette turned toward me again. And again, I saw those huge butter soft balloons with the cherries. I had to clench my fists from squirting all over.
"Breasts, Jeannette. What are breasts? Do you know how many millions of breasts there are in this world? I've seen so many breasts as a doctor that they leave me cold." I could feel the heat surging in my prick. "Let's get on with it, Jeannette. Don't disappoint Freud now."
Jeannette's hands moved to her belt, and she began to unbuckle it. I've seen lots of stripteases in my day. Some good ones in the Orient. In Europe. But the best in San Francisco. But nothing like this. The difference was -- Jeannette didn't know she was doing a striptease. She was too innocent, too dumbfounded by the whole thing. And that excited me. In my mind, I heard bump and grind music, and it added nicely to the show.
She removed her belt, undid the top button of her pants and slid the zipper down.
"Fine, Jeannette, just fine," I coaxed.
She lowered her pants after slipping her shoes off. She stepped out of her slacks, and let them fall in a crumpled heap on the carpet. Jeannette straightened her back, forcing her tits to stand out and up, firmly. She looked at me blankly. She needed more encouragement.
I was wild with excitement. I couldn't keep my eyes from her crotch. A few dark, straggly pussy hairs peeped around the tiny band of nylon that bordered her white undies. Through the sheer material, I could make out the full dark shadow of her bush. My cock pulsed hard.
"Joy and freedom," I repeated.
After a few moments of blushing, Jeannette lowered her panties and stepped out of them.
Boom chicka boom chicka boom. The music grew louder in my head. I could hear the frenzied crowds yelling and applauding. This girl was remarkable. Jeannette shyly turned her eyes away from me. But my eyes were glued to her soft, creamy skin. Her face was small, almost precious. Pixie-like. But her innocence was interrupted by the huge tits that maturely hung there, waiting to be milked and sucked. Her white stomach protruded just slightly, then curved down to her big, triangular bush. Somewhere in that dark forest, a deep, burning cunt was waiting. From her bush, two long legs curved gracefully down. Boom chicka boom chicka boom. The music grew louder. My heart pounded harder. My prick had reached its hard limit.
"Okay?" she said, barely audibly. She got the courage to look up at me. I tried to hide my pulsing cock behind my notebook, but the purple head jutted in the open.
I was practically swimming in my own juices. My fires were raging. But I had to control my heavy breathing. I began taking notes. It was a good ploy. It made her feel what was standing in front of me was of no importance at all to me. Only my cock told, but of course, the draft was responsible for that. I jotted down.
you horny fuck, you. aren't you ashamed of yourself, doc? ashamed? Jesus. this is the high point of my career. I never knew analysis could be such fun. god, what a bush.
"What are you writing down?" Jeannette asked.
"Impressions. Feelings I'm having. Here, I'll read to you what I've just written... 'Jeannette has removed her clothes and already she feels much freer. Her body is so much more relaxed. Making wonderful progress today.' "
"More relaxed?" she asked, inserting a nailless finger in her mouth, "I'm really feeling tensed up."
"Nonsense," I said. I crossed my legs in an attempt to hide my bone, but it still showed. Oh, who gives a shit, if she sees it, I said to myself. She'll get it sooner or later, anyway... why don't I drop the whole pretense and take her now? But I desisted. I had to be cool, careful. After all, those certificates don't come a dime a dozen at Woolworth's. I couldn't blow it now.
"But I'm just not feeling relaxed. Or free."
"Of course you feel freer. Don't feel ashamed to admit it. Come over here and Dr. Freid will show you exactly what he means."
It wasn't a question. It was practically an order. She walked her soft, warm body towards me. Her luscious tits swayed slightly as she moved.
"Here. A little closer," I said. She moved closer.
I leaned forward on my seat and placed one hand on one of her dainty shoulders.
"Here. Now, see what I mean? Why, your shoulders are so completely relaxed, that there isn't a sign of tightness anywhere."
I moved my hand to the other shoulder. Just inches from the hot action, but I kept my cool. "And this shoulder, too. Not a tightened muscle in it." My touch had caused a quick shudder to run through her body.
"Did Dr. Freud recommend touching, too?"
"Oh, yes. Oh, yes. You really must read him sometime," I said casually, taking my hand to the back of her neck.
"Now, here's where tension tells the tale, Jeannette." My hand caressed the back of her head, the small softness of her neck. "Why, these muscles are perfectly relaxed. Oh, you do feel freer, Jeannette. So much freer." My hand gently massaged her neck. Her shudders were coming more regularly. Good. Shudders of excitement, not fear, I hoped.
Jeannette kept her eyes away from me. The perfume of her warm body was driving me and my prick mad, but I managed to keep my professional cool. Nostalgically, I recalled some of my better examinations as a General Practitioner. My temples throbbed.
"And the breasts, Jeannette. Do you know what hap. pens to them when you are feeling relaxed and free?" She quickly shook her head back and forth. The blush was back.
My hand trailed down from her neck to one juicy tit. God, it was delicious. I squeezed the flesh of it a few times. A little too hard, perhaps.
"What... happens to the breasts?" she asked, still turned away from me. On contact, her nipple popped up harder than it had been.
"When you're relaxed, the breasts swell up. It's because your body is free enough to let them swell. And yours are really swell. I mean... swollen. Here, Jeannette... " I placed my hand underneath her breast, letting the weight of it lie magnificently in my hand. "Can you feel how much fuller they are? It's because your body is feeling free." My hard cock was feeling pretty free, too. It stood up straight, and practically begged for someone to let the hot juices out.
"But... my breasts are always like that. They're always big." She spoke almost in a whisper.
"Always?" I said, in mock disbelief. "I seriously doubt it. Here, just look at your nipples." I took a hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger and turned it back and forth. "Now, tell me what that feels like."
"It's... sensitive." Her gaze went down to my hairy hand as I turned and twiddled the hard rubber cherry.
"There... what did I tell you?" I said, increasing the speed on her nipple, "Freud said it himself. He said the nipples harden and become sensitive only when the body is free enough to let them do so."
I reached my other hand up, letting the pencil and pad fall into my hot lap. Now, both of my hands worked on both of her swollen nipples. There seemed to be no end to how hard and large they became.
"Then... I'm really relaxed?"
"Oh, so very relaxed," I said.
Neurotic or not, Jeannette was reacting like a healthy female. Her breasts were swollen. Her nipples were bursting with excitement in my fingers. Her belly started to quiver, and her lovely legs began to tremble slightly. Her arms remained helplessly at her sides as I pulled and kneaded her nipples. Her mouth was open slightly, And she still blushed.
Her breathing had increased, too. At this moment, Jeannette and I were both horny as hounds. I couldn't admit it, of course, since I had my reputation to think about. She couldn't admit it, because she probably didn't even know what those hot, strange, wonderful sensations were all about inside her body. But I kept my hands busy on her fantastic tits. Kneading, massaging, pinching, stroking. Christ, I thought. If Alice had a pair of sponges like this, I'd never go to work. "Is the session over yet, doctor?" Jeannette asked nervously.
"Just beginning. We've a long way to go."
"Oh."
"Why do you ask? Is it difficult for y o u to feel... free like this? Don't forget. Blushing. Nail biting. $65 a week. These are things you want to change, don't you? All this will help you considerably."
"I suppose so," she said.
"You suppose so?"
"Yes."
"Good. Of course you want to change. That's why you're here."
I really couldn't continue dillydallying with her much longer. Her big, black bush was swaying just in front of me. Some of her pubic hairs were already glistening. Those pink lips, hidden somewhere deep inside there, were swollen for sure. Her juices were flowing. In spite of what she said, she was charged up for sure.
With a quick gesture, I thrust my finger into her hot box.
"Ooooooh," she said.
My whole hand practically slid in after, because she was so hot and full of liquid. Since there was so much extra space in her fiery cavern}, I removed my finger and then slid four fingers in as deep as they would go. My fingers became alive in her hot, gooey heaven, and they began to prod and probe deep inside her.
"Oh, splendid. Really marvelous, Jeannette. Such free responses. Why, your wetness is such a healthy sign. That's it. Just let your legs relax. Now, you tell me. Could you produce all this wetness if you weren't completely relaxed? We're making such wonderful progress."
While my left hand wiggled and wriggled inside her slit, my other hand yanked and pulled at her swollen nipple. I had a great rhythm going. Boom chicka boom chicka boom.
"Dr. Freid. I feel so... peculiar. I mean, I never let anyone touch that area like you're doing. Except Jack. The fellow I told you about last summer. But it was love."
"Oh, but I love doing this to you, Jeannette. Because I love to see my patients happy."
"But... "
"Now. No more buts. Why, your pussy lips are pulsing and throbbing. Your goo is just pouring out of you. Your whole body is begging for more. Mustn't protest with me, Jeannette. Your body tells me you like it."
"But ..: "Why, you haven't bitten your nails in five minutes. A good sign. The neurotic symptoms are already vanishing."
Both my hands worked furiously. My left hand slid in and out of her cunt faster and faster. It made a gushing sound that was sheer music to my ears. My other hand was yanking so hard at her nipple, I thought I might yank it right off its soft nest. My cock, bursting, was waiting patiently.
"But... I'm still blushing."
"Let's not go after miracles. One thing at a time," I said. My fingers now toyed and tickled with her erect clit. Her legs parted farther, and her breathing got even heavier.
"Just let your feelings happen, Jeannette. Let all your feelings out. It's so good for you." And me, I mused.
Removing my hand from her cunt, I placed both hands behind her soft, trembling asscheeks. They felt like satin; I squeezed them hard. I drew her hot, young body toward me so that her gigantic tits were crushed up against my face. My mouth was like a child's. Hungrily, my lips licked and sucked. I found a nipple, and took it like a meal. My mouth slopped over the hard projection, and I sucked fiercely, like I couldn't get my fill of milk. Her huge breasts bobbed and bobbled deliciously against my face. I sucked and slurped and salivated all over her tits. Heaven should be so good.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Jeannette said finally. A desperate tactic.
I placed my hand on her soft stomach, my mouth still sucking away at her tits bouncing against my face.
"Oh, come on, Jeannette. I can feel your kidneys with my hand. I'm a doctor. I can tell you don't have to go."
"Number two," she persisted.
"Well, I don't have a bathroom here. You'll just have to hold it in," I said, not looking up at her. My eyes were too busy feasting on her wet tits.
"Well, I have to go."
She was worse than a twelve-year-old teenager trying to keep a fellow's hands off her. But she was worth the challenge.
"Do you know what happens if you move your bowels when your body is excited?"
"No."
"It disrupts the normal balance of your body. Strange diseases can happen. Anyway, Freud says that the desire to go to the bathroom is natural under these circumstances." Still slurping on her wonderful tits. "But it's only psychosomatic. So don't worry about it."
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I really don't have to go. It's just that all this is making me... a little uncomfortable."
"Normal reaction. But I know just the thing to take those awful feelings of discomfort away. Just put each of your hands on your swollen pussy lips -- yes, like this -- and spread them apart as wide as possible. Come on now. That's it. It will really help you feel more comfortable."
"Why is that?" she asked, doing as I instructed.
"You'll see," I said.
It was the first real look I got of her cunt. I moved my head in close to ogle the merchandise. Priceless. Her glistening lips were fat and pink and formed almost a perfect circle as she spread them. Inside, there were soft layers of tissue, and a deep, dark area where I would shortly put my throbbing cock to rest. Her cunt was sopping wet. A thin membrane of white goo stretched from one side of her open cunt to the other.
"Wider," I said, and she managed to get them even wider.
"Now see if this doesn't make you feel better," I said.
I was sitting on the edge of my seat, with her body between my legs. Holding each of her small wrists to make sure she kept her hole open wide, I moved in.
My tongue quickly found her hard slit, and I sucked and nibbled on it. Jeannette's whole body started shaking. My tongue worked and wiggled, up and down her clit, into her wet hole, darting back to her clit. Medical school teaches you so much.
"I see what you mean, doctor," Jeannette moaned. "I feel better already."
"Of course you do," I blubbered from her dark, wet regions.
Round and round my tongue went, quicker and quicker. Jeannette's whole body was on fire. Her stomach pumped furiously against my head. Her legs shook and quivered. I had to hold her tight by her soft ass to keep her from falling backwards from ecstasy. The soft doorway of her cunt swelled and throbbed to my magic tongue. I got a finger into her tight asshole and wedged it in as deep as I could get it. My tongue worked like an electric vibrator, and my finger tunneled and twisted in and out of her asshole.
"Wider," I said, with a mouth full of her juices.
Jeannette rocked back and forth. Sexually, Jeannette was deliciously normal. "Shall we try the other hole?" I asked sweetly. "Why don't you just turn around, bend over, and spread your asscheeks open for me."
"Will that make me feel even more comfortable?" she asked, turning.
"Even more," I said.
If what Jeannette was displaying in front of me was the result of all those hard years I put in medical school; then they were surely paying off. I examined the opening carefully, like an art dealer inspecting a painting for forgery. This was the real thing. Circular, dark and brown. With a garden of shiny black hairs bordering it. I stuck my nose in and sniffed. Petunias, I thought. Maybe gardenias, so sweet was the smell. Forcefully, I rammed my tongue straight up, like an arrow. It almost knocked her over.
"Oh, it is good, doctor. I'm so comfortable. Thank you for this."
Her entire body was a mound of quivering flesh. Every muscle of her sweet body vibrated. I reached up and grabbed a fleshy tit. Little gurgling sounds were coming out of her throat. Her body was drenched with perspiration.
"Oh, do me now, doctor. Do me now." The words of my daydream. They had come true. Jeannette. Shy, sweet, nail biting nervous Jeannette was begging me to put it in.
"Coming, Jeannette. Coming."
I pulled my tongue from her asshole.
Practically leaping from my recliner, I placed her face down on the carpet and spread her legs apart.
"Coming, Jeannette. Oh, you're making such progress."
With a thrust that might have penetrated solid metal, I shoved my prick up into her sopping cunt.
"Isn't this a fun position?" I asked, but I thrust away any answer she might have given. Like a furious engine, I worked my prick deeper and deeper into her. As I pounded the poor luscious neurotic under me, Jeannette's asscheeks bounced and shook. Then I lifted her by the waist, so Jeannette was receiving my blasts like a dog, on all fours. I grabbed an available, free swinging tit, and clutched tightly.
"Oh, so good," Jeannette moaned.
"Isn't analysis fun," I said.
Her body convulsed as I rode her. The shy troubled beauty who spoke in whispers and blushed at her own reflection, flailed her arms and legs wildly. She was like a wild bronco, swiveling and bucking. I was fucking the neurosis out of this girl.
Jeannette tensed up every muscle in her body and clutched at the carpet with her nails.
"I'm cured. I'm cured," she shouted. Then she let out a moan from the deep bowels of her being, just as she climaxed.
"Thanks to me," I said, as I came, so she wouldn't forget the source of her orgasmic delight. With my tongue dangling out -- definitely uncool -- my hot liquid sped out, spasm by spasm. Each spurt brought me deeper into her young, sweet body. In a moment I had flooded her entire insides. I lay on her exhausted.
"Oh, look," I said, glancing at my watch, "we still have a little time left. Isn't that just grand?"
I removed my soft prick from her wet hole, and turned her over. Jeannette lay on her back, and I straddled her with my knees on either side of her small waist. Jeannette was damp from perspiring, and her fleshy boobs heaved and rocked from her exhausted breathing.
"Joy and freedom," Jeannette said. There was a small smile on the corner of her lips. No blush was present. No nail biting happened. She merely reached out one of her once shy hands and started pulling the skin of my-soft prick back and forth.
"Oh, yes. Joy and freedom. Freud would be so proud of you, Jeannette. Why, you're like a changed person. And all this... from allowing yourself to take your clothes off." My prick, of course, started to ascend again.
"He must have been a wonderful man," she said softly, sexily. Her hand stroked my cock faster so that it quickly grew to its normal hard size. As she jerked me harder, her big, soft tits seemed to tilt and float back and forth on her body.
"Yes. A wonderful man. His methods have cured millions."' I leaned down and placed my lips on one of her hard, divine nipples, sucking, nibbling, biting.
"I feel something for you, Dr. Freid. Do you suppose it could be love?" My cock was on the verge of bursting. I quickly placed my hand on hers, momentarily holding her from pumping. I wanted it to last a bit.
"Love?" I asked, only half listening to her comment. There were more pressing things at the moment. I lowered my body, still straddling her, so that my knees were just below her hot bush. I let one finger trail down her stomach till it reached her hot hole. "We mustn't be too quick to call these feelings love."
"But... I felt this way toward Jack. That feeling. In my stomach. My whole insides. You know what I mean?"
I inserted one finger into her hot hole. Her hips began swiveling and she started rocking her head from side to side.
"Not necessarily love, Jeannette. These are simply the 'joy and freedom' feelings Freud spoke of. They really shouldn't be confused with love. Because all sorts of complications can arise."
With a squoosh, I removed my finger from her cunt, and slid all the way up to her lovely face. My hard huge prick was inches from her mouth.
"Put this in your mouth," I said. "Freud advises this method."
Without waiting for a response, I thrust my hard prick into her open mouth. Jeannette practically choked.
"Take it easy," I coddled, "you'll get used to it."
I took the back of her head with my hands and worked my prick in and out of her mouth at a quick rate. Jeannette's eyes were closed. With one hand, she toyed with my balls, alternating from my left to my right, left to right. Her fingers were like tiny fires on my scrotum. Her mouth was like a hot furnace. I was very warm.
"I do think it's love, though," she said, still tickling, still sucking. Unable to contain myself any longer, I let go. The burning fluid flew out of my prick into her mouth. Desperately Jeannette tried to swallow, but there was too much to gulp. She choked and coughed and blubbered helplessly.
"There, now. It's perfectly harmless. At the worst the roof of your mouth will be a little tender for a couple of days, and you might experience a mild sore throat. But simple gargling with salt water and plenty of rest should take care of the condition," I said, resorting back to my most professional tone.
"It's running down the sides of my mouth," she said, pointing at the oozing gism with both hands.
"So it is," I said.
I disentangled myself from her and stood up. Then I brought her a Kleenex.
"Here. Wipe your mouth with this."
"Do you... love me?" she asked, holding my eyes with hers.
"In a way, Jeannette. But then, I have a certain kind of love for all my patients. Professional love, you might call it. Now why don't you clean yourself up and get dressed. I do have another patient coming in soon, you know."
Jeannette looked up at me like a troubled, helpless animal. She leaned up on both elbows and quickly wiped her mouth with the Kleenex. Her lovely breasts swung gently back and forth.
"Well, I love you," she said.
For a moment, my cock again tingled at the sight of her. But it could go nowhere. My prick was too pooped to pop again.
I started dressing. "Progress, Jeannette. You've made wonderful progress today. You were free as a bird. Probably the first time in your life. So let's not confuse your love of freedom with your feelings of love for me. But we can discuss this at length during our next session."
Jeannette brought one hand up to her mouth, and started biting on the nails.
"We're not completely cured, yet, Jeannette. But in time. In time," I said. I bent down and gave her tit an affectionate squeeze. "But why don't you get dressed now?"
Silently, Jeannette put all her clothes back on her beautiful body. When she was finished she came to the door, where I was standing.
"Thank you, Doctor Freid. Thank you," she said softly. And she put her little soft hand out for me to take.
I took it. "And thank you, Jeannette. See you next week."
It wasn't easy seeing the rest of my patients that day. Jeannette was constantly on my mind. All I could think of was the six months I had wasted with her. All those boring sessions, I thought. I could have used them much better. My God, in six months, Jeannette and I could have been through The Kama Sutra with additional variations. Well, there was always next week. And the week after. The patient immediately following Jeannette was a rapidly aging account executive who worked at a large advertising agency. He was only forty, but apparently, in the ad business, unless you're on the way to the top by forty, you're on the way out. He wasn't on the way to the top. He hadn't been promoted in years. He was on the way out.
He was scared shitless about what he'd do when the big axe finally fell. He lay on the couch and rambled on and on about how he was getting a royal screwing in the business he had devoted his life to. But I barely heard a word. I used my standard "Mmmmm hmmmm's" frequently. And every once in a while I'd throw in a "I understand," and a "How do you feel about that?"
All I could think of were Jeannette's big, soft tits pushed up against my face, and my big hard prick pushed deep into her cunt. The account exec droned on about his miseries, and I was getting horny again.
"So you think I ought to tell him off, Doc?" a far away voice said, interrupting my inflamed thoughts.
"What?"
"You think I should tell him to shove it?" he asked again.
"How do you feel about it?" I asked. My question kept him yakking on and on. I took my notebook.
another fuckin twenty minutes. christ, this guy's boring. why can't he have nice tits and a cunt? wonder if Jeannette will tell her father. Jesus. I'd be shafted if she told. But I suppose it'd be worth it. Christ. What a pair of knockers.
"Doc... aren't you listening?"
"Of course. Taking down everything you say, word for word."
"You write that fast, huh? Shorthand?"
"Gregg. The best."
"My secretary uses Gregg. Janice is her name. Nice girl. I'll miss her when they axe me. Boy, what am I going to tell my wife and kids? The business is in a slump now. You don't just get fired and then go out and make fifty G's. Know what I mean, Doc?"
"Mmmmmm hmmmmm."
And he went on and on and on. I started idly thumbing through my notebook, and discovered that tomorrow I was to see a new patient. She was a model referred to me by one of my doctor friends. A model. A bell rung. I never looked at it that way before. A gorgeous, beautiful, hunk of model. My imagination simply took off. Without ever having seen her, or knowing a thing about her, I started thinking about how I might get to seduce her. The hum of traffic below, and the droning on and on of my patient were the only interruptions from my thoughts.
But the interruptions couldn't compete with the blue flick that was projected in the back of my mind. The model Blinked in, raised her dress, exposing, of course, nothing but the raw real thing and said, "Hey, doc. I'm a nymph. Got this problem down here. It always needs loving. Would you mind?" I pictured myself helping her, all right. Up the cunt. In the ass. Through the ear. Over her tits. In her mouth. We did it hanging out of the window. Standing. Bending. Sitting. I had a million orgasms and my office was a mess. She screamed, hollered, yelled for more. And I gave it to her. Again and again. Fiercely. Gently. Lovingly. I was screwing the shit. out of her.
"Doc!"
"Huh?"
"Doc. I think my session's over," I heard, vaguely, from somewhere. I checked my watch. The anonymous model had taken me into my lunch hour.
"Oh. I felt it would be helpful if you had a little extra time today," I said, crossing my legs, feeling the stiff bone there. "See you next week."
* * *
I had four more patients that afternoon, and needed, every,, ounce of energy in me to concentrate. But it was no use. Between what had just happened with Jeannette, what would happen tomorrow with the model, and what Alice had planned for me that evening -- she always had weird wonderful sexual things for us to do -- I barely heard a word. For the money I charged, that was sacrilege. But I was only human. I was entitled to have an off day just like everybody else.
I saw Fritz at one o'clock. A young sculptor -- the typical, starving kind that live in roach infested lofts and dream of one man shows. He was having trouble "getting into the feel of it," as he put it. I remembered that phrase because I jotted it down. It seemed to describe my own horniness so nicely. His sculptures weren't coming out right at all, he complained. The proportions were weird. All wrong. He was convinced he was a failure. I was convinced he was a bore. Hardly could I get an image of my model going, when he'd interrupt my thoughts with questions, questions.
"Know what it's like to be an artist? It's painful. Very painful."
"Mmmmm hmmmmm."
"You've got to work, sweat, kill yourself to get what you want."
"Mmmm hmmmmm." I'd give Jeannette three hours, next week.
"I think my stint in the army -- it was only six months -- but I think that put a curse on me. My hands just won't do what I tell them. You know what I mean?"
"Mmmm hmmmm." I was having much better control over my own hands.
"You think I'll find it again, Dr. Freid?"
"Mmmmm hmmmmmm."
* * *
Two o'clock. George Trumble. The accountant who hated numbers with a passion. Jesus, there were a lot of neurotics running around. What the hell did George ever go into accounting for? Christ. When I went to medical school I knew what I wanted. An opportunity to see naked pussy. Not just free of charge. But be paid for it. That morning, with Jeannette, I was paid in full.
"Maybe some people just don't get along with numbers. Is that possible?"
"In your case, I'd say yes," I said, vaguely.
"Do you like numbers."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Oh, Christ. This guy wouldn't even let the "Mmmmm hmmmms" ride. He had to get me involved, too.
"Tell you next session. The numbers on my watch say 2:50. That means your time is up. Goodbye."
* * *
Three o'clock. Two long, fuckin hours to go before I could get home to Alice. Mrs. Martha Gerber. Recently widowed. Had recurring hallucinations of Harry, her dead husband. He would float around the ceiling and point an accusing finger at her.
"It's so real," she would sob.
"Maybe it's not a hallucination. Maybe he never died. And maybe he flies. Maybe."
"Don't fib with me, Doctor. You're just saying that so I won't think I'm going crazy. But I tell you. I am. I know he's dead. And I see him. He talks to me. All the time. Just hangs up there on the ceiling and says things like, 'Martha, you're a bitch. You made me die.' Is that crazy, doctor? Don't soft pedal with me, tell me... is that crazy?"
"That's crazy." One hour to go.
* * *
Four o'clock. Billy. A thirty-year-old homosexual who couldn't make up his mind which way he really wanted to go.
"So go both ways," I offered. My notebook was filling up with obscenities about tomorrow's anticipated orgy with the model.
"But... I have so much conflict," Billy sang, his wrists flopping around like a couple of dead chickens, "and... doctor... you know I despise conflict. It makes me so dizzy... I could swoon. Oh, do you really think both ways is the way to go? It might be a blast. Really it might. But then, I've never had it with women. They're such... nuts, if you know what I mean. But I suppose one little touch on a tit couldn't hurt, do you doctor?"
"Mmmm hmmm."
"But intercourse. With a woman. I mean... I have a set of values. I can't just fling them away like that. My boyfriends would laugh me out of the Village. But on your say so, maybe I'll sneak a feel from a bitch sometime. But only on your say so."
"mmmmm hmmmm."
"Is that a say so?"
"Mmm hmmm."
"Oh, goody. Doctor Freid, you're the sweetest man I know. That is, not to mention Phil and Tom and Butch and Sweeny and Hector. You understand."
"Mmmmmm hmmmm."
"Of course. You're so understanding. I wish I was a psychiatrist. You really seem to have the life."
"Mmmm hmmmm." Ten minutes to go, and out of fagsville.
"You ever paint? Decorate interiors? Do women's hair? Stuff like that?"
"Mmmm hmmmm."
"Oh, really."
"Mmmmm hmmmm." Five minutes to go.
"That's a gas. Maybe secretly, you're one of us. Oh ha ha. Say... I'm throwing a little shindig this Friday. Just exclusives, you understand. You can come if you like. Everything goes."
"Well, that's all we have time for." Five o'clock. Whew.
CHAPTER TWO
Finally I got home. Alice was running her bath, and I could hear her singing away gaily.
"Home, hon," I called, but apparently she didn't hear me. I fixed myself a martini, and flopped down on the couch.
There was hardly an object or piece of furniture in the room that Alice and I hadn't used some time, in some way, to satisfy our imaginative sexual appetites. Marriage counselors always tell you to try something different, vary the positions, or boredom sets in. We never consulted one, and probably never would. We both loved sex, and used our wild imaginations to enjoy it.
The couch I was sitting on -- the orange velvet one -- had a nice bounce to it. Alice and I used it frequently. We loved the velvet against our naked skin. If you looked closely, you'd discover little faded, impossible to get out spots all over it. I could remember each one with utter joy.
The lamp. A Kovacs original. Set us back $120. We did amazing things with that big, round bulb. It drove Alice wild. I'd let it cool a little, first, then start rolling it and rubbing it over her body. Across her cunt, around her ass, over her tits and nipples. It was one of our early experiments that was successful, for we used the bulb often. Originally, we had a 200 Watt bulb in there, but that wouldn't do. By the time we had to wait for it to cool down, we had cooled down, and might settle down to scrabble or something. But 50 Watts was perfect. Not much light. But a lot of heat.
The thick pile carpet was sensational. The word is friction. Alice would lie face down on it, and I'd take her by the heels and drag her around. It would steam up her cunt and harden her nipples. Then I'd turn her around and start to pick off the lint, but not all of it. I'd start with the lint that got trapped in her bush, and in moments I'd be eating her. She'd worry about the rest of the lint later.
The glass table. It had sharp edges and was fairly uncomfortable. But that didn't matter. A little jab in the thigh by a corner of glass would keep our temperatures climbing. Pain is fun, sometimes. We did it on the table, under the table, half on the table, half on the rug. Windex takes the spots off easily.
The old, gold mirror from Alice's parents. We'd set it up against the couch and watch ourselves go. We'd make up dirty movies, and watch ourselves perform like acrobats in a circus. Sometimes, we'd dick off the best ones with our Polaroid. I keep all those wonderful pictures locked up in a wall safe. Some evenings, we'll just sit around with some coffee and go through the pictures. It's a lot more exciting than our wedding album which we threw out years ago. We've got about a hundred pictures, and each one is more disgusting than the other. It's not easy to fuck and photograph at the same time, but in time, you learn the ropes. We did.
The red satin curtains. I'd rub them back and forth between Alice's legs till she was on fire. Cunt goo, I've discovered, is even more difficult to clean than Man juice. But the curtains had hundreds of folds in them, and the discolorations were well hidden.
The stereo. We'd each put on a set of headphones, turn the sound way up, and maybe smoke some grass to heighten the whole thing. Screwing to full orchestration pounding in your brain, is a delight not to be missed.
Even the fruit on the table had caressed our skin. It's incredible what the various textures can do to the nerve endings in skin. Bananas. Apples. Pears. Grapes. Stick it up the cunt. Massage with it. Fantastic.
And the closet. We'd turn all the lights out and shut the door, so it was pitch black in there. Then I'd make like I was raping her. We've bumped into hangers, coats, brooms, umbrellas, but who cared? It's a gas. Closets were made for fucking. In fact, this was indeed a living room for fucking. No holds barred. We did anything and everything . with anything and everything. We never got tired of sex. It was different every time.
I slowly sipped my martini, and my mind wandered from Jeannette to Alice to tomorrow's model. Yessir. If it weren't for all my boring patients, I would have swore I was the happiest man alive.
Alice came into the living room without a stitch on. She had a big silly grin on her face. She's got long bones and skin smooth as glass. Her tits could use maybe an extra inch, so each time we went to it, I pulled and sucked and yanked on them, in the hope of making them just a wee bit larger. I think I've been successful. They were almost perfectly round, very firm, and were pulled up proudly by her long nipples. She's got long hair, red, and a red bush to prove it. I think that coloring comes from the fires that are constantly burning down there. A nonstop box. Day, and night. It was one of the reasons I married her.
Playfully, she turned sideways, and struck a pose, placing both her hands on her hips. She lifted her head like a model. Her hair flowed down halfway to her back.
"Am I woman?"
"You sure are."
"Well don't just sit there, honey. Get up and rape me or something."
I sipped my martini, and smiled.
She turned and came over to the couch, moving her torso with those long, lean legs. She stuck her cunt in my face.
"Okay. Eat me up." She spread her lips wide. "C'mon. You want supper or not?"
I wanted supper. I tongued around her clit.
"Faster, damnit, faster," she said.
Her goo dribbled all over my face. She pushed her cunt back and forth.
"Come on, Doc," she said jokingly, "Let's see what you're made of. I masturbated twice today just thinking about you. So now that I'm with you... give me a good one."
"I'm not fighting you," I said.
I ate her good, faster and faster.
"Put your damned martini down, will you?"
I put it down, and took her by her soft ass.
"Baby, here I come," she shrieked, and she grabbed on to my ears as her body jumped around and quivered. I'm coming, doc... don't you dare stop now." I didn't stop. Her whole body shook and she let out a happy yell.
"Wowee! Now that's what I call an appetizer," she said, coming over on the couch next to me. She threw her arms around me and nibbled-inside my ear.
"How was your day, Hon?" she whispered, as her tongue made tickling circles in my ear canal.
I didn't answer, or look at her, because I knew she'd know I was lying.
"Well?" she asked.
"Just another day," I said, finally, bringing the martini glass to my lips.
"Why so sad, pussycat?" she asked.
"Just a little tired, Alice."
"Well, we'll just have to perk you up, won't we? What do you want for supper?" Her hand slid in my pants and she squeezed my cock.
"I just ate, thanks," I said, removing one of her cunt hairs from my mouth.
She kept squeezing, getting my prick hard. "Funny. But... how'd you like some left over pot roast from last night? It's fast, and that'll give us the whole night to do our little hot thing."
"Great," I said. With a final squeeze, she got up and wiggled her ass out of the room and into the kitchen.
I thought about telling her about Jeannette, but changed my mind. Why interrupt a perfectly delicious evening with something like that. Anyway, the martini had gotten to my head, and I couldn't have handled anything more complicated than sex, anyway.
I went into the bedroom and took all my clothes off. I checked the horny doctor in the full length mirror. The years I spent weight-lifting in college still showed. A little sloppy around the waist, but the shoulder and arm muscles still held up pretty well. A little grey at the temples, a few strands of gray in my goatee. But a full head of curly hair, thirty nine, and the machine was still in excellent working order. And lots of wonderful years left in the piece of skin that dangled so meekly down between my legs.
I returned to the living room, stark naked, and started leafing through The New Yorker on the couch.
Alice walked in.
"You're looking good," she said. "Ready for some action, tonight? Wow. I'm horny as the devil."
She sat next to me, and removed the magazine from my hands. Her fingers toyed with my cock and balls. They reacted quickly.
"I'll give you a quick suck, but just a quick one," she said, "I've got a few things to prepare for supper."
She bent down and put my' prick in her mouth. Nobody in the world could handle a cock like her. Perfect coordination of tongue, lip and rhythm. While she sloshed away at my cock, I grabbed hold of her tit and played with it. After a long day, it was really nice to be home.
"Aw, come on, don't stop," I begged. "You've got me started."
"We can finish later," she said, sweetly returning my magazine to me. She playfully tweaked my fully hard cock, then got up and returned to the kitchen.
I put down the magazine.
"If you don't hurry up, I'm gonna sit right here and jerk myself off! Christ! What a tease you are!" I called.
"Suit yourself. It's your prick. But I'll tell you," she called from the kitchen, "for a guy who's got so many patients, you sure don't have much patience." It wasn't worth the laugh I gave her. "Why don't you and your bone come into the kitchen and keep me company while I finish supper. It's almost ready."
"It's already down to normal, thanks to you," I said.
I came into the kitchen and put my naked ass on a chair.
"Cold," I said, wiggling my ass around.
"Serves you right for eating in the nude. If you can't handle it, why don't you put a robe on."
"Just make supper," I said.
"So? What's it going to be tonight?" she asked.
"You're the big planner. You always think up the dillies. So what are you asking me for?"
"Thought maybe you had some ideas."
"Let's take a bath together," I said.
"Just took one. Come on. Something different."
"Let's take a walk in the nude down Fifth Avenue. That should be fun."
"Be serious."
"Well, maybe we could invite the Doorman up and he could watch us. Maybe he'll bring some of his cheap wine and we can all indulge," I said.
"Hey," she said, "I've got it." She brought two plates of pot roast and french fries and set them on the table.
"What do you got?" I asked.
"Oh, this is terrific." She sat down and started in with her food.
"Alice. You sure are sexy sitting there in the nude eating pot roast. Don't get your tits caught in the fries, though. You don't want greasy tits, do you?"
"What an idea."
"Okay, for Chissakes, tell me. What's your idea?" I said, putting my fork down.
"You know that new young couple that moved in across the hall?"
"Yeh... "
"Don't yeh me. That's it. They're attractive. Why don't we invite them over and maybe start a little something."
"They're practically teenagers."
"Oh, they are not. They're in their early twenties. Oh, wow. What a gas that'll be. Well, Morris, don't just sit there with that french fry hanging out of your mouth. Get on the phone and call them. Their last name is Morgan."
"You call them."
"Okay. Never mind. We'll just have a dull evening, I guess."
"Con artist," I said. I threw a shred of pot roast at her breast, and went to the living room to call.
* * *
Ginger and John came over at eight o'clock. The two of them were about as stiff as a couple of tightly drawn shoelaces. He came over wearing a dark brown suit, of all things. She was wearing heels and a dress. Except for the fact that they kept their backs so straight and their language so clean, I suppose they were nice people. But frankly, I was expecting a bummer. We just had nothing in common with these kids.
"Drink?" I offered.
"No. Thanks. We don't drink."
"Oh, we don't?" I said sarcastically.
"No," Ginger said politely.
Then that god awful silence. Ginger and John were both seated on the couch with their hands in their laps. They looked like a couple of school children trying to make a good impression on the teacher. They moved their heads from me, on the green chair, to Alice, who was sitting in the wicker chair. Alice and I, at least were dressed casually. They were ready to go to the concert, or something.
"So, how long you been next door?" Alice asked.
"'Bout three weeks now," John said. "Nice place. Couldn't afford it myself, but Ginger's father has lots of money. He pays for it."
"Nice arrangement," I said.
"It's okay," John said.
Silence. More silence.
"How about some grass?" Alice asked.
"Some what?" John said.
"What?" Ginger repeated.
"Grass," Alice said.
"'What the heck's that?" John asked. "Grass? You mean like grass you mow?"
"Pot," said Alice.
Ginger and John looked at each other. In my mind, their bodies formed two perfect squares.
"Oh," John said finally, with a knowing smile. "You mean... drugs. Right?"
"Not drugs," Alice said, trying to told her frustration in. Pot isn't drugs. Listen... did either of you ever have a drink in your life. I mean like alcohol? Wine? Beer?"
"Oh sure," said Ginger, demonstrating her sophistication."
"Well," said Alice. "Did you like it?"
"Oh, sure. It's all right. Once in a while," Ginger said.
"Well," said Alice, the shrewdie, "tonight is once in a while. It's not every evening that Morris and I have friends over. We're very selective about who we spend time with. And if you've never had grass... pot... I've got to tell you that it's even milder than alcohol. Lot's of people don't even feel it."
"Then why do they smoke it?" Ginger asked. At least she knew what they did with it.
"It's sociable," Alice said. "Didn't you know that? The president of the United States smokes it. The vice-president smokes it. Every one in the United Nations smokes it... especially when they're in session. Artists smoke it. Bums smoke it. Everybody smokes it. Except you two. You're the only two people in the world who don't smoke it."
There was no response from them. Nothing at all. Ginger crossed her legs and her velvet skirt rose up, exposing more leg than was decent. But, as I expected, she caught my eye, and yanked it down. Ginger and John looked from Alice to me, quiet and stone faced. I couldn't imagine what they'd be like stoned.
"Well," I finally said, breaking the boring silence, "as a doctor, I'd have to say it's quite healthy to smoke pot. It clears the system and wards off cold germs, flue germs, and keeps your metabolism in terrific shape."
"Oh, it's not even legal," said John. The way Ginger was sitting wasn't legal either, for she had uncrossed her legs and now sat with them somewhat apart. I saw the fringes of what appeared to be a pair of pink panties.
"Oh, they'll make it legal as soon as they finish their research on it, John," I said matter-of-factly. "It's just a matter of time. It should be legal within six months. Maybe less."
"I had no idea," said John. "I work in a bank downtown ... and I'm sure no one there has ever smoked it. We're all fairly conservative at the bank, you know." I knew. His dull tie, white shirt and dark suit gave it away. The way he parted his hair in the middle didn't make him look particularly groovy either.
"A bank," said Alice with make believe interest, "That's absolutely fascinating. Why, I was in the bank just last week making a deposit. I think it's so wonderful the way they handle all that money, and keep it all straight."
"It's not so interesting," said John, "it's pretty boring. All the interesting work is done by computers. I'm only in the Management Training Program. They really give me the worst jobs. Tons of paper work. All the dirty details. It really is boring."
"Pot isn't boring," Alice persisted.
"I'll tell you what," I suggested, "why don't I take some pot out? You kids give it a little try. See what you think. If you don't like it, fine, we'll do something else like go out for pizza or something exciting like that. But at least, give it a try. The stuff I have is really mild. Like Alice said, you probably won't even feel it. It certainly can't hurt you to try it. We'll show you how."
I didn't even wait for them to answer. The dark recesses between Ginger's legs were getting me horny and I was anxious to get the evening started. Or at least make an attempt at it. I went into the kitchen. We keep our joints in the icebox. A friend once told us that you get a faster high when the pot is chilled. Contrary to what I had told Ginger and John, the stuff we had was pure dynamite. Acapulco Red. Two puffs and you'd be off in never-never land. I returned with two joints. That would have been enough for a dozen people.
"Do either of you smoke cigarettes?" I asked.
Both shook their heads. Christ. What did they do in their time.
"Okay," I said, "watch." Without lighting the joint, I put it in my mouth and demonstrated the proper method of puffing. I told them how it's important to keep the smoke down in your lungs as long as possible. A little reluctantly, John and Ginger did a small trial run with the unlit joint.
"See? It's that easy," I said. "Let's light up, but first, Alice, why don't you light the candles and we'll turn off all the lights. That way makes it real nice. Atmosphere, you know."
Alice lit two candles on the glass table and switched off all the lights. The whole room seemed to flicker. "Okay, let's try it now," I said.
I gave Ginger and John each a joint and held a match for them. They both looked at each other cautiously, then puffed as I had instructed. Both began coughing furiously.
"Hey," said John, "this stuff is murder."
"As mild as they make it," I said. "It's perfectly natural to cough at first, but after a few puffs, it'll be second nature to you."
They tried again, this time more successfully. They both puffed away like smokestacks, not knowing what they were getting into, not knowing what was getting into them. About nine or ten puffs each. Alice and I held our breath to see what would happen, whether they'd react or not.
They reacted. Ginger leaned way back on the couch and her legs widened, affording me a sensational view. Her head went on the back of the couch and she began rolling it from side to side. John got the stares. He had his eyes glued to one of the candles, and he gazed at it like he was in a trance. He was. The two of them were zonked out of their skulls.
Neither Alice nor I smoked. It was more exciting that way -- being straight, watching a couple of others freak out. Alice and I looked at each other and winked. We had them. They were ours. They were helplessly high. Dynamite pot.
"That's it," I said, "the whole idea is to completely relax. Just let go and let your bodies float as far away as they want." Ginger's left leg now started swinging back and forth in rhythm with her rolling head. Those frilly pink panties were driving me nuts.
"Honey," I whispered to Alice, "let me take Ginger now. I think she wants it."
"Oh, silly, wait. The evening's young," she said. "How do the two of you feel?" I asked.
"Ooooooooh," said Ginger, "I don't even know where I am. I don't even know who I am. Yes I do. I'm Queen of the World, and I have big fluffy wings. Aren't they pretty?"
"They're beautiful," Alice said.
"And how do you feel, John?" I asked.
The candle gazer didn't hear a word. The flame had hypnotized him. If the world came to an end, right then, he would remain, staring at that candle.
I went over to the stereo and switched on some soft music. Low lights. Music. All we needed was action.
"C'mon, Alice, let's take them now," I said.
"Oh, relax." She thought for a moment. "Listen, why don't you get out some of our pictures. I'll bet they'd enjoy them," she said.
On the way into the bedroom, I smashed my leg against a table. "Damn," I shouted. But I was back shortly with the pictures. All horny hundred of them.
"Hey," I said, "why don't the two of you move over and let us show you some of our pictures. They're a lot less boring than working in a bank. Believe me."
With a little nudging, we got Ginger too move over. Alice and I sat between them. John was still staring at the candle. Ginger's head slowly turned to the stack of pictures I had in the shoe box.
"John," I said, "John! Want to see some pictures?" Alice clapped her hands and John snapped his head back startled.
"Pictures," said Alice, "pretty pictures. Your host and hostess are going to show you some pretty pictures."
With a dreamy look in his eyes, he slowly turned his head toward me.
"Photographs. Click. Click. Snapshots," I said, trying to break through the cotton of his fuzzy mind.
"Oh," John said finally. At last. The light.
I presented the pictures very matter-of-factly, with explicit description. All of which was unnecessary, since the pictures spoke for themselves. But I was curious how they'd react.
"Here," I said, holding up the fast, "you'll have to look close because there's not too much light. "This is Alice and me. See? I've got my finger wedged up in her pussy, and she's holding tight to my cock. I had to take this with one hand, of course. See the Polaroid in my right hand?"
"Ooooooo," said Ginger, drawing her exclamation out, "is that really you two? It's really exciting."
John's eyes gazed deeply at the picture.
"Dirty pictures?" he asked, with a goofy expression on his face, "aren't they illegal?"
"They're planning to legalize them when they legalize pot," I said.
I went to the next picture. It was upside down, but who'd know the difference. It simply made Alice and me look more athletic.
"Here's Alice sucking me off. I was able to use both hands for this shot. See how nice and in focus it is?"
"Ooooooh," said Ginger, "I really like that one, it's very sensitive."
"I always blow him with sensitivity," Alice chimed.
John continued staring at the picture, saying nothing. His mouth had dropped open. A large bulge had formed in his crotch. Pot has a way of getting you deep in the groin.
"Oh, you'll love this one," I said.
I held up another. Alice was on all fours and I was doing her up the rear end. "We had to lay the mirror sideways for this," I said, "we find this position particularly stimulating. It does wonders for a tired clit. Or a bored cock."
"Oooooh," said Alice, "it's really thrilling."
"She looks like a dog," said John.
"Everybody looks like a dog when they get on their hands and knees," said my defensive wife.
"Now," I said, "Here's an Alice special. She's terrif' with the old camera. Took this of me while I was jerking off. Caught me just as I was coming."
In the picture, I was laying flat on my back with my hand, blurred from my fast hand motions, on my hard prick. A little speck of juice had just started flying out of my prick."
"Oooooh," said Ginger, "what a beautiful thing... it looks just like John's."
"I'll bet it doesn't," Alice challenged, "Morris has the biggest cock in the world. Now you're not going to sit there and tell me John's can even match that, are you? I simply won't believe it. Not at all."
"It's true," said Ginger, "I even think John's is bigger than that."
"Impossible," said Alice.
"I seriously doubt it," I said, joining in the fun. "Show them, John," Ginger said. She was flying higher than a kite.
"Mine is bigger," John bragged. Pot has a way of sucking you into a conversation.
"Bullshit," said Alice.
"It really is," Ginger said.
"I find it hard to believe, hard to believe," I said. Frankly, I didn't give a shit if John's dork was two inches or two feet. All I cared about was getting on with the damn evening. Who cared who had who beat in the prick department?
"Come on," said Ginger, "show them."
"Let me help," said Alice, and she started to reach down to his pants.
"I'll show you myself," said John. Zonked as he was, he still had some fight left in him.
Very slowly, John lowered the zipper of his pants. Very slowly. It was like watching a slow motion picture. Finally, after maybe two or three minutes, he got the zipper all the way down. All eyes were fastened on his crotch. Great expectations. His hand went slowly in his pants, he fumbled around for another minute or so, then brought his prick out. It was only semihard, but he surely had me beat. Lots of meat there. Closer to two feet, I thought.
"Oh, that's not bigger," Alice said, but I noticed that she licked her chops. "Doc has a bigger one."
"Because it isn't hard yet," said Ginger. "When it's hard it sticks out so far it scares you."
"Well make it hard," said Alice.
Alice and I got off the couch and sat down on the rug directly in front of them. Ginger slid over and put John's cock in her hand.
"Now you watch," Ginger said, "and you see if his isn't bigger."
She leaned down and put John's large prick in her mouth. Did I say straight laced. Ginger took the whole thing and shoved it deep in her mouth. One deft hand wiggled its way inside his pants to his balls. With complete dedication and passion, Ginger's wet lips rose and fell up and down John's fast growing prick. Occasionally she'd stop sucking and let her tongue tickle all around his shaft. Then she'd go back to the pumping action with her mouth. Ginger was a pro. John's head was thrown way back against the couch back, and his eyes were closed. Instead of exhaling silently, his were deep moans from his throat.
John's moans, Ginger's slurping sounds, the flickering candles and the music in the background was almost tender.
"How can you suck on him with his pants on?" Alice asked. While she asked her left hand slid down into my pants and started pressing my cock. I accepted the warm challenge; my hand slid into her pants and my finger entered her hairy, wet pussy.
John lifted up with some effort, and Ginger removed his pants and underpants. John flung one of his legs over the side of the couch and let the other hang down. His cock stood up stiffly, like a tree growing out of two big sacks below. Ginger returned to her task, and put his stiff prick back in her mouth again. Up and down she slurped, her own eyes closed, one of her hands holding her hair to keep the strands from getting in the way. Alice and I kept time with our fingers. The fingers we had in each others pants. Mine kept sliding in and out of her slit, hers kept squeezing my cock, fondling my balls. All this was happening inches from Ginger and John. What a terrific floor show we were getting.
Ginger was lying on her stomach, stretched across the length of the couch. While she sucked away at her husband's prick, her skirt had made it well above her frilly, pink panties. Her ass moved up and down in rhythm, the flesh around her legs and thighs softly wiggling. I started to reach for Ginger's ass, but Alice took my hand back. She wanted to wait. She had a lot of patience in situations like this. She liked to eke and ooze out sex as far as it would go. She knew the night was young.
Ginger's mouth worked furiously, hungrily. John's moans had increased in volume as his wife's mouth picked up the tempo. I couldn't imagine how Ginger got all of that cock in her mouth, but there it was. Each time she sucked down to the base of his cock, the whole thing slipped away somewhere in her mouth. While John's prick got the heat treatment, Ginger's hand remained active. She pinched and caressed the skin on his balls, let her hand slide around his thighs, his stomach, let a finger wiggle into his asshole; then she returned her hand to his cock, so she pumped him while she sucked away.
"So?" said Alice, "let's see how big it is now." Alice had to repeat it because our high flying guests were a bit carried away with themselves. When Alice and I spend time with two other people, we like it to be a foursome, not two twosomes.
Ginger finally stopped sucking. She lifted her head, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and looked at Alice and me proudly.
"Look at that," she said, pointing a finger at the cock monster that rose between John's legs, "is that bigger or is that bigger?"
John's iron rod was tall and quivering. I could see a little gleam in Alice's eye as she stared at it. She was drooling. I knew my wife. Out of sheer emotion, she squeezed my own cock harder than necessary.
"God, it is bigger," Alice said, this time with genuine amazement.
"I think it is," I said, not giving a shit one way or the other.
"Well," said Alice, "Maybe John's got Morris beat in the cock department, but I've got Ginger beat in the cunt department.
"What are you talking about!" Ginger said, upset at the challenge.
"Hey. Keep sucking," John said vaguely. His head was still back, his prick still up. But Ginger ignored his plea.
"I'll bet I've got a bigger pussy than you. And more hair there too," Alice said, with a childish lilt in her voice, like a two-year-old.
"Did you hear that?" Ginger said to her husband. "John. John! Did you hear what Alice said."
John didn't budge. The only muscle that twitched was the erect one, but not in response to his wife's comment. His blow job had been rudely interrupted and his prick was throbbing for more.
"Alice said hers is better than mine, John."
"Bigger," Alice said. And don't forget the hair part. I'm challenging you on that, too."
"Enough talk. Enough talk," I said. "Let's not sit around and theorize all evening. Let's get down to the nitty gritty. Let's get down to the factual truth of the matter."
With that, I removed my finger from inside Alice's panties. Then I leaned over and put my fingers in the nylon of Ginger's pink panties and slowly lowered them down. Her half-moon cheeks were incredible. Pure and white, the little orbs were. I could see just a bit of hair in the crack of her cheeks. I touched one cheek gently, with a nervous, horny finger. Her skin was softer than a kitten's. My head was swimming. My cock was burning.' I was ready for action.
"Okay! Let's see your pussy," Alice challenged. "Why don't you turn over? And why don't you come back here," Alice said to me, taking my hands off the soft contours of Ginger's ass. Mrs. Patience wanted me to wait.
Ginger rolled over on the couch. She lay on her back with her head resting on one of John's legs.
"Well, take a look," said Ginger. "You'll see. Mine's a lot better."
Alice and I moved down, on the carpet, so we were both near her crotch.
"Can't see a thing," said Alice, "if you don't spread your legs, how can we ever know what you have there?"
"I have plenty there," Ginger said, and she lifted one leg over the side of the couch, the way John had done. Her private wet parts were now exposed. Ginger had a full black bush of curly hairs. It seemed to jump around excitedly with the flicker of the candles. Her juicy, pink lips lay partially open for inspection. Alice and I, on our hands and knees, moved our heads between her creamy, white legs. We gazed intently at her crotch.
"I think her clit is fairly small," I said, and with my tongue I twiddled the little bud.
Alice gently took me by the hair and pulled my head away. Shit, this woman wouldn't let me have any fun. Her and her own damned sweet time!
"Oh, you kidder you... Ginger. That's not very big. You're probably going to tell me John's cock can fit in there. I'll bet he can't get past one inch of that... little opening."
"Hey," said John, dumbly turning his head toward us, "what are you doing to my wife?"
Ginger answered. "You know what, John? They said you couldn't get your thing inside me. Did you hear that? They say I'm too small for you. Tell them that's not true."
"Oh," said John. He was lost somewhere in the fog of his mind.
"Never," Alice persisted. "It'll never fit. How could it?"
"Want to bet?" said Alice. Little Miss straight lace had more spunk than I would have ever given her credit for.
"I'll take that bet," I said, my eyes gazing deep into Ginger's wet cunt, "as a doctor, I'd say these vaginal membranes couldn't possibly have the flexibility to accommodate such a hard stiffness as John possesses."
"Don't confuse the issue," Alice said, "it just won't fit, that's all. Couldn't possibly."
Ginger sat up. She swiveled John's body around so he now was sitting on the couch with both legs in front of him. She stretched one leg over him and sat down on him, facing us.
"You just watch," she said. Straddling him as he sat there -- slouched, rather, because he leaned way back -- Ginger took his still hard prick in her hands and directed the head of it to her hole. Adjusting her body and giving her hips a few grinding motions, John's cock managed to slide in easily, with a small squishing sound. In a moment, John's hard shaft disappeared entirely inside Ginger. Only his large balls showed.
"There. I told you," Ginger said. She began a slow rocking motion, up and down on his prick, while both of her hands caressed his hairy balls. Straight laced? Conservative? Just a couple of teenage kids? Inches from our very eyes, our next door neighbors were fucking away for us. They should have charged admission. It beat anything I saw in the porno shows in Copenhagen.
As Ginger slid her body up and down, and all around, John's hands instinctively found the front of her blouse. Without bothering with the buttons -- in his condition he wouldn't have been able, to, anyway -- he just pulled hard near the collar and all the buttons popped. They flew around the room, and one caught me in the forehead. He slid her blouse off. Then he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside.
Glory be. Ginger had a pair of show stoppers. Yes, she had Alice beat in the fit department. Two, full round angel cakes just made for eating and squeezing. John's hands worked like a madman. He pulled and yanked at Ginger's pink nipples, dug his nails into her soft breasts. Ginger responded by bumping and grinding his cock deeper into her -- if that was possible. Front row seats. Alice and I sat below them, in front of them with our legs crossed. Our own fingers remained active in excited response to the fucking scene before us. Alice rolled my cock up and down between her fingers, and I wiggled my finger around in her fiery cunt. Everybody was working hard and loving it.
Ginger bumped and bounced quicker and quicker. The flickering candles exaggerated her movements, like at a psychedelic light show. They were both going wild, rocking and rolling, twisting and grinding, up and down, up and down. Ginger's eyes were squeezed shut, and her hair flipped and flopped around as she rode him. John's hands squeezed, plucked, scratched at her big tits. Their breathing got heavier and heavier. Ginger's legs flew up and down like they were disconnected from her. John's cock appeared then disappeared, appeared then disappeared as her cunt jumped and bumped. Ginger's stomach went in and out in little ripples as the maddening tempo increased. Alice and I were on the verge ourselves, but we slowed our fingers. There was lots of time to come.
Ginger and John fucked furiously. Their faces were contorted with delight. The pot had brought out every last iota of sensuousness and excitement from their bodies. They probably never fucked like that in their life. Ginger's tits bounced around crazily. I was amazed at the way they moved, considering the normal restrictions of that kind of position.
"Oh, god," Ginger said. Riding up and down, throwing her head back, she grabbed on to John's legs tightly.
"Oh, Jesus," moaned John. His hands were running wildly all over his wife's soft body. Over her tits, her shoulders, back to her tits, down her stomach, a little twiddle on the clit, then to her legs, rubbing, kneading, pinching, scratching. Their gasps and moans came louder. Our next door neighbors were coming.
As their orgasm came, Alice and I spontaneously started to clap. It was just too fantastic. Our neighbors were coming like they've never come before, and Alice and I sat crosslegged in front of them and applauded.
"Bravo," Alice cried.
"Whoopee!" I shouted.
"Jesus Christ!" John said, as his fluid exploded out of him.
"Oh, my god," said Alice, her limbs kicking around, as her entire body burst into orgasmic fireworks.
The last time I applauded like that, the Mets won the World Series.
"Bravo. Bravo," Alice repeated enthusiastically.
And then there was silence. Ginger and John were spent, completely exhausted. Alice and I quietly returned our fingers to their heated, respective positions, inside each others pants. It was a grand, grand showing. But just the evening's appetizer.
Ebb tide played in the background, and Alice and I stroked each others private parts. It was really nice to feel so comfortable with your next door neighbors.
"Oh, wow. That was too fantastic," Ginger sighed, easing herself off her husband, letting John's cock flop out of her cunt.
"Jesus Christ," John mumbled. His mind was still wrecked.
"Okay," said Alice, Mrs. Energy, "how would the two of you like to play a game? It's called Guess Who."
I had never heard of that one before. But Alice had a quick mind when it came to sex.
"'What's that?" Ginger asked, her eyes barely open. She looked like she was ready for bed. So did John. His head was again against the back of the couch.
"You never heard of Guess Who?" Alice asked with make believe amazement. "Why, I thought everybody knew that game."
"I never heard of it," Ginger said dreamily.
"Well, it's lots of fun. And it's so easy to learn. Here, Ginger, I'll show you. But you'll have to sit over on this end of the couch." I couldn't for the life of me figure out what my horny wife had in mind.
Ginger lifted her exquisite and exhausted body and went to the other side of the couch. As she moved, those mother tits floated like soft angels from her. If I didn't get to them in a matter of minutes, they'd have to take me away. I just had to touch those big, round beauties. My patience was wearing thin, and my cock was standing thick.
"Okay, Ginger... " Alice directed her comments to her, since John was obviously out of it. For all we knew, he was back at the bank, sifting papers. Good grass makes some people tired. So will a strenuous fuck.
"Okay, Ginger... " Alice continued, "you close your eyes and one of us is going to touch you. But you've got to promise not to look. But wait, why even tempt you? Be right back."
Alice got up and returned with a red, silk scarf. She fastened it securely around Ginger's eyes so she could see nothing.
"Now you can't peek," said Alice. "Here's the game. Someone will touch you. Maybe me. Maybe Doc. Maybe your husband. You've got to guess who. It's a very exciting game."
"I'll know when John is touching me," she said proudly. And a little more alertly. The game was bringing the life back into her.
"Don't be so sure," said Alice. "Sometimes it's hard to tell. Okay... now who's this?"
Alice took my hand and directed it toward Ginger's wonderful tit. At last! I'd been waiting for this moment. My hand cupped as much of the flesh as I could get. I squeezed and squeezed. I would have continued, of course, but The Game Master took my hand away after a few delirious seconds of joy. My protective wife didn't want me to get too carried away. Not yet, anyway.
"Guess who, Ginger?"
"Well, I know it wasn't John. Uh, it was your husband. Morris."
"Wrong," Alice said. It was me."
"Really?" Ginger asked.
"I told you it was hard," Alice said. Alice was damned right. It was hard as a rock. Hard enough to ram up Ginger's big wet cunt.
"Let's try it again," said Alice. "Isn't this just oodles of fun?"
Ginger nodded. I think John was snoring.
Alice locked two fingers together and eased them into Ginger's box.
"Ooooooh," said Ginger. Christ. I wish my wife had let me do that one. She got all the good stuff to do.
"Guess who?" said Alice. I watched jealously as Alice's hand slid in and out of Ginger's hole.
"That's John," she said confidently. "That's John for sure."
"Right," I said, "your sure got that one. Hey, Ginger ... have you ever played this game before?"
"Never," she said, "honestly."
"Aw, come on," said Alice, retrieving her fingers from Ginger's glorious cunt. "You're putting us on."
"Honest," she repeated, "I've never played before."
"Okay, then," said Alice, "see if you can guess who this is?"
Alice shoved one of her fingers up Ginger's asshole. A little resistance at first; but then she managed to wiggle it all the way in. Christ. Alice was having all the fun! It was Alice's game... but my prick was getting impatient. I didn't give a shit if it was the mailman's game. I wanted in. And fast.
"That's a tough one," said Ginger, letting her legs part to allow Alice's wiggling finger all the freedom it needed. "I'd have to guess."
"Guessing's not allowed," said Alice, and her finger did some more fancy work up there.
"I don't think it's John's. His finger nails aren't that long. I'll bet that's your finger, Alice."
"Two out of three," said Alice. "Say, you're terrific at this game. Do you swear on a stack of bibles you've never played before?"
"Pos," said Ginger. Her body responding to the wiggling finger with wiggling motions of her pelvis. John's snoring grew louder.
"Oh, look," said Alice, "John must have dozed off. Do you mind if I wake him, Ginger? This game just isn't the same with only three people."
"I don't mind," Ginger said.
Alice removed her finger from Gingers insides, and moved over to John. She bent down and put his soft prick in her mouth.
"Say, Ginger," I said, she still had the scarf securely fastened, "do you think John will know who's trying to wake him?"
"He'll know," she said.
"Well," I commented, "Alice has her hand on John's shoulder and she's shaking him. I'm not sure John will know whose hand it is."
Alice sucked away at John's cock. The blow job made his snoring stop. But his cock started to go... up, up, although he still remained with his eyes closed. In moments, Alice had sucked him up to full size. While she was occupied, I turned my full attention to Ginger. I quickly lowered my pants and stuck my hard cock smack up against her face. My trembling hands reached for her tits, and I squeezed them hard.
"I know that's not you, Alice," Ginger said, my bone knocking up against her face. Alice didn't hear. Her mouth was full and her attention was elsewhere.
"Is it me?" I asked Ginger.
"Yes. I think so," she said.
"How can you tell?" I inquired, tickling her nipples, ramming my rod harder against her face.
Pot can do funny things to the mind. Obviously it was me, since my voice was so near. But Ginger tried to figure it out on a whole different basis. The taste test.
"Put it in my mouth, and I'll be sure," she said.
I needed no coaxing. Zip. I plunged it in her mouth. Two blow jobs going on simultaneously. And Frank Sinatra was crooning in the background.
"Mmmmmm, " said Ginger. It was about all she could say.
I squeezed her fleshy tits alternately with my hands. It was like doing little calisthenics with them.
"I don't think you're John," she finally said, taking her mouth away for a moment. But she again returned to my pulsing prick. Now I understood how she got John's cock so deep in her mouth. There was just a lot of room back there. She sucked and sloshed her mouth around my cock. I was delirious with excitement. My left hand quickly found its way to her wet hole, and I shoved a few fingers deep in the orifice.
"Ooooooh," Ginger moaned. She loved that expression, apparently. I heard a few oooohs and aaaahs coming from the other end of the couch, too. But that was their business. I had enough to keep me busy.
Ginger's remarkable mouth worked faster. My fingers inched up deeper inside her. This little girl was all action. I was about to shoot the whole works in her mouth, but I pulled out quickly. I wanted to do it inside her pussy. I took her arm and led her -- she still had the red scarf around her eyes -- onto the carpet. Laying her on her back I spread her legs wide apart. Ginger was obviously anxious, too. But there was no time to eat her. My cock was bloated with fluid and couldn't wait any longer. I got between her legs, on top of her and began directing my pulsing cock into her wide open hole.
"Wait a sec!" I heard Alice say. "Not yet!" We haven't finished playing Guess Who yet."
The bitch. The sadistic bitch. Maybe an eighth of an inch to go -- that close to hot home -- and the bitch had to go and ruin everything.
"Hey. What are you doing to Ginger?" John asked from the couch. He blinked a few times. He was having some trouble comprehending what he saw. His wife -- stark naked, blindfolded -- and me, between her legs, mounting her. Then he looked down at his own cock which was stiff as iron, still wet from Alice's saliva. In that condition, it's difficult for a man to get angry.
"I'm about to fuck her, since you asked," I said, "but no! Alice the bitch says we've got to keep playing her goddamned stupid game. Christ!"
"Now don't get nasty," Alice said, She was holding John's cock in her hand, stroking it up and down. "Just be patient."
Alice got up, and I rolled over on my side. I compromised, and let my left hand toy with Ginger's wet cunt hairs.
"Now John," Alice said, "you come over here." John was still bleary eyed from the pot and the previous activities. But he managed to rise. With his cock standing out stiffly, we walked over to Alice.
"First," said Alice, the social chairman, "let's dispose of all this unnecessary clothing." She was down to her skin in a second. When she wanted to move, she moved. John, with some assistance from Alice, removed his shirt.
"Okay," said Alice, "you keep your blindfold on Ginger. Now see if you can guess who this is."
Alice left the room and returned with a large dildo. She stroked it up and down on Ginger's cunt, making sure it was wet enough for the monstrous object. Then she worked it in, inch by inch. Ginger had to spread her legs wide to accommodate the instrument. The whole thing excited John immensely. His hand was playing with his own prick, as he watched his wife's cunt being toyed with.
"Oooh, that's John," Ginger said.
Alice turned the dildo this way and that, thrusting it in and out, side to side. Ginger was going out of her mind.
"Wrong," said John, with a small laugh. He had gotten into the spirit of the evening.
"Oh, doctor, you really are big," Ginger said.
"Ha ha ha," John said, "everybody fooled you. It's nobody."
Ginger quickly removed the scarf from around her eyes and looked down.
"My god, what's that?" she almost shrieked, "get it out of me."
"Ha ha ha ha," John laughed again. "We really fooled you. You got excited from that thing. Ha ha ha."
So did I. My cock was as straight up as John's.
"What is that thing," Ginger asked, as Alice removed it from her gaping twat.
"A dildo," said Alice, "wasn't it nice?"
"Its so real," she said.
"Okay, John. You put on the scarf now." Alice instructed.
He needed no prodding. He placed it around his own eyes. Then he lay down on the carpet, his cock still very much erect.
"Ha ha ha," Ginger laughed, "I'll bet you can't guess who." Everybody was in the proper spirit. It made the evening so much lovelier.
Alice went over to John and sat on his face, with her bush shoved up against his mouth. She thrust her pelvis in and out.
"Who?" I asked. Ginger's slit was hard in between my fingers.
"Wait, now," John said, "don't rush me. I know it's not you, doc, ha ha ha." He tongued Alice's hole and grabbed her asscheeks. "Don't rush me," he blubbered.
"Nobody's rushing," I said, "take all the time you like." As I finished my sentence I rolled back onto Ginger and without wasting a precious moment shoved my hard instrument in.
"Ooooh," said Ginger.
Her soft cuntlips were exquisite. My engine pummeled and pushed like mad. This soft creature was delicious. I leaned down and grabbed one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked hard on it.
"Hey," I heard Alice say, "come on. We haven't finished the game."
I lifted my head from Ginger's tit.
"Oh, shut up," I said, "just do your stuff and don't worry about a thing."
"Yeh," said John, who lifted off his blindfold, so he could see all of Alice's delights, "who wants to play any games?" and he rolled Alice off of him, got up between her legs and started eating her.
"You win," Alice said, flat on her back, getting the eating of her life. She tossed and turned like she was the winner.
All this time, I was thrusting my prick deeper and deeper into Ginger. She locked her legs around my neck and pulled my head back down to her tits. It was an evening made for love.
"Do it harder, doctor," Ginger begged.
I did it harder. As hard and as deep as I could. I bit bard on her nipples. Took big bites out of her fleshy, rolling tits. She was a dream girl. We bumped together, locked as one, sticky with the activity and heat of it all. My heart was pounding furiously, just as fast as my prick. Elvis Presley sang Heartbreak hotel, as I seemed to break new records inside this girl's flesh, deeper and deeper. I penetrated so deeply, I imagined my whole body falling inside her. My balls banged against the soft cheeks of her quivering ass. We kept time to Elvis, almost unconsciously.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice and John going at it. He had wasted no time. He had already stuck it in. God, did it excite me to see Alice getting it from someone else. His hairy ass shook and trembled, and those big balls of his smashed against Alice. Her legs were wide open, straight in the air. This was a Roman orgy.
My little cunt, just under me, was breathing hard, rolling her head, pulling at my hair. I bit into her neck, then licked the length of it gently. Hard and soft, gentle and strong, the sex books say. I got my tongue up into her ear while my pricked sloshed around deep inside her. Christ, was I about to come.
I lifted myself on my hands, so that except for my cock, our bodies didn't touch. Raised up that way, I watched Ginger's sweet body twist and shake. It was nice to see just what you were coming into. Tensing up momentarily, the floodgates finally loosed. I shot out a ton of liquid, each squirt more thrilling than the last. Ginger joined along. My first spurt had set her off and her arms and legs flew about wildly as the feeling got to her. It seemed like a full minute that each of us came. Ginger was as good as Jeannette had been. Maybe better.
I eased back down on her and checked on John and Alice. What perfect timing.
"Jesus Christ," John moaned. The two of them vibrated like an electric machine. John's big balls knocked furiously against Alice. Her nails dug deep into his back. Her legs kicked at the air. Together, faster and faster, they rose and fell till they reached the heights. Both tensed, then let loose. Alice cried aloud, John kept saying, "Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ." I wish I had taken my Polaroid out. I would have liked to save that scene. They stopped, and collapsed into 'each others arms. It was almost tender, and for a moment I felt jealous. But I put my head down and kissed Ginger on the lips and that sweetened everything, made everything better. It was a beautiful evening.
Alice got up, shaking her wonderful ass, and switched on the lights.
"Hey," said John.
"Change of scene," said Alice. "Let's all go into the bedroom and have ourselves a ball."
We all looked at her like she was crazy. Who the fuck had any energy left?
"Alice," I said, still atop Ginger, "that's enough for a while."
"I'm just getting started. Isn't there a man here who's man enough to take this precious bod of mine?" She spread her legs obscenely and spread her cuntlips. "Isn't there a man in the house?"
Who could respond. We were pooped. I don't know where Alice got her energy from.
"Nice soft tits for sale," she said, taking hold of them and holding them out. "Real cheap. Tell you. what. Suck 'em good and I won't charge a red cent."
We all looked. Yes, she was exciting. But we were all exhausted.
"Bunch of pussycats," Alice said. "We haven't even started!"
"Jesus Christ, I'm finished," said John.
"Me too, hon," I said. Alice didn't know how much energy I'd used up with Jeannette that morning. And for all I knew, John and Ginger had done it before they had even come over.
"Damn," said Alice, "Fuck and corruption. Here I am ready to go... and look at you two."
I had rolled off Ginger and was leaning my head on my elbow, looking up at her from the rug. John was laying back, with both arms behind his head. His cock stirred a little as he watched Alice. Ginger was on her stomach, her head resting on her hands, looking up amused.
"Men," said Alice, like she was disgusted. She leaned down and picked up the dildo. "I'll do it myself, then," she said.
Still standing, she managed the huge dildo up into her box and wiggled it around, her hips and pelvis following the rolling motion.
"Won't one of you guys at least suck on my tits while I do myself? What kind of party is this?"
"Okay, okay," said John. He got up, like he was reluctant to do so, but his hard prick told a different story. Alice's charms had turned him on again. Standing next to Alice, John bent down and took a tit in his mouth.
"Put one finger up my ass," Alice demanded, "I'm gonna get something out of this."
John was only too willing to respond. His finger went up her ass, out of our view.
"Okay, big boy, I'm worked up hot and good now," Alice said, turning the dildo a few times in her cunt, for good measure. "Now shove your prick up me."
Still standing, John faced her and grabbed her by the waist. Alice let the dildo drop to the floor. John wedged his big prick right up into her.
"Yeh," groaned Alice, "now that's more like it."
"Isn't this fun," I said casually to Ginger.
"Lots," she said, her attention focused on Alice and John.
Standing, the two of them smashed their bodies against each other. John's aggressiveness came out, and he had Alice's hair in his hands and was tugging her head back. Her small tits jumped around like they were dancing.
"Jesus Christ," John said.
"That's it baby," Alice said, "don't stop now."
He didn't. They pumped and bounced their bodies with precision, making a slapping noise every time they banged together. Alice arched her back as far as she could, and John hovered over her, with his hands now pulling and squeezing her asscheeks.
"I love to watch," I said to Ginger.
"Yes, it is fun," she said. I toyed with one of her dangling tits while Alice and John continued in their sexual frenzy.
Just before coming, John's weight was too much for Alice, and she fell over backwards, him on top. And from that very standard position, all hell broke loose. "Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ," John kept repeating. "Oh, baby," Alice groaned.
Like two spastics they shook and quivered as the orgasm came. And then they collapsed, like melted flesh, thoroughly exhausted.
"Okay, Alice, how 'bout you and me now?" I asked.
"Oh, fuck you," said Alice. Now she was too pooped to pop. In fact, the four of us just lay there on the rug -- sprawled out naked -- and sort of looked at everybody else wearily.
"Coffee?" Alice asked, still flat on her back, her legs spread open, exposing the goodies up there.
"Good idea," I said, "why don't you make some?"
"Why don't you, you lazy bastard," she said playfully. "The instant coffee is next to the peas on the first shelf. Be a duck and get it, won't you?"
What the hell. I struggled to get my weary self up, and went into the kitchen. In about five minutes I had everything prepared, like a nice little housewife. Doctor Morris Freid. Man of professional stature. Man of the house. The big bread winner. And I was serving the coffee. For a joke, I put Alice's apron on. It had little hearts and flowers all over it. I must have looked adorable. I put the coffee and some cookies Alice had-made on the tray, and returned to the living room.
"Boy, do you look stupid," said John.
"You are stupid," I retorted, but followed it with a laugh.
Sitting around in a circle -- all of us were naked, except me with my silly apron tied around me -- we drank coffee and munched cookies. It was a pleasant aftermath to an orgy.
"Do you two do this with other people?" Ginger asked.
"Sometimes," Alice said, sipping her coffee, "but not too much anymore. We did it a couple of times with my sister Bonnie and her boyfriend. But that was a couple of years ago. Now, we're awfully selective. There's just not that many nice people around. But you two are nice, though."
"Thanks," said John, "I really enjoyed tonight. I never would have guessed in a million years that we'd do what we did tonight. I still can't believe it."
"Pot helps you open up a little," I said. I looked at Ginger. "You really have nice tits, Ginger. No fooling. They're really nice."
"Thank you," she said, "John likes them, too."
"No reason to be selfish with nice things like that," I said, and I reached over and stroked one of her nipples till it hardened.
"Yes I really love her body," said John. "You've got a nice body, too, Alice."
"And you have a nice dong," Alice said. She reached over and squeezed it.
It was like The Merv Griffin Show. Everybody praised everybody.
"Maybe we can do this again," Alice said.
"Love to," John said. Ginger assented with a head nod.
"Doesn't this bother you, though... being a doctor?" John asked, "I mean do all doctors do things like this?"
"All doctors," I answered.
"I never imagined," said Ginger.
"Hey. Remember Dr. Minsky?" John said to Ginger. "Remember what you told me about him?"
"Oh, yeh."
"What?"' l asked.
Ginger put a cookie in her mouth, and crunched. "He stuck his stethoscope up my vagina."
"Tell them what he told you, honey."
"He said he could hear my heart better that way. Something about the echo from the inside of your body."
"Ha. And she believed him, too," said John.
"Well, he was a doctor," Ginger said. "I didn't know he was fooling around with me."
"Perfectly disgusting," I said.
"You never did anything like that, did you?" John asked me.
"On my honor," I said, and I held my right hand up, with a cookie in it. "Although... I've been tempted. But you know... ethics. We doctors have to be very careful about things like that. You fool around with the wrong gal... and boom... your ass ends up in a sling.
"If I ever thought you fooled around like that, I'd divorce you," Alice said, and she leaned over and nibbled my ear.
"Never."
"But just having the opportunity," said John, "I mean, having all those dolls strip down in front of you. Doesn't that get you horny? Jesus Christ. I wish I was a doctor. I'd have me some real fun. The bank is soooo boring."
"He's a psychiatrist," said Alice. "He doesn't get the opportunity to see all those bodies. He doesn't deal with people's bodies. He deals with their minds. That's not exactly sexually stimulating. Is it, bon'?" She pecked my cheek with a little kiss.
"Sexually stimulating? Talking to patients about their childhoods? Talking to patients about how they hate their parents? How they constantly think about suicide. About how ugly they are? How stupid they are? Haw many unbearable problems they have? If I thought that was sexually stimulating, I'd have to have my head examined.
"Wow," said John, "it really sounds boring to me. Having all those troubled people to listen to every day. I don't know how you can stand it. But I'll tell you. Maybe you'd rather work in a bank. I could get you in The Management Training Program. $6500 to start. Guaranteed raise of $500 in the first year if your supervisor thinks you've got the stuff. I got my $500 just last week. I can sure use the money."
"'Fraid not," I said, "not interested. I find my work too stimulating."
"All that talking?" Ginger asked. "It's interesting. Not sexually stimulating. But interesting."
"Even without sex," Alice said.
"Even without sex," I agreed.
It was around midnight when Ginger and John left. We made plans to get together sometime the following week.
This was not the evening to tell Alice about Jeannette. I don't know where Alice and I got the energy, but we managed one more fuck before going to sleep. As I started dozing off, my model patient who I'd be seeing tomorrow, swayed nakedly before me.
"Oh, I'm a nymph, Dr. Freid. Help me. Do me. Quickly."
I don't know where I got the energy, but I did.
CHAPTER THREE
In full blast, I went to work next morning. Never before had I been so exhilarated at the thought of going to work. I whistled and did a silly dance step on the way to the office. Today, I was to see the model. Whoopee, I said to myself, like a little kid. "Today I get to fuck the model. Today I get to fuck the model." People stared at me as I pranced by, but I didn't care. If they had a model to fuck today, they'd be jumping, too. Today, the mad doctor was going to have an absolute ball.
My first two patients were about as exciting as a dead Ping-Pong ball. The first was an attorney who dreamt in legal terms, the second was a dance instructor who thought he was a clutz. He was right. He was a clutz. But you don't say that to a patient. Not a $30 an hour patient. But these two sessions dragged by for days, it seemed. The only thing I had on my mind was my new model patient, and I was due to see her at eleven o'clock. About two and a half centuries later, it walked in.
Million bucks worth of merchandise. The sort of girl that wet dreams are made of. Real hot stuff. I just didn't waste time offering her the chair.
"Won't you lie down on the couch?" I said pleasantly. If she knew what was on my mind she'd have run away.
Dorothy slunk across the rug. She wore a black silk pants suit that stuck like glue to all luscious six feet of her. Long, blonde, very kissable hair dropped down to her waist. Was it real blonde? In moments, I knew that only her hair dresser and I would know for sure. She had a pair of front bumpers that bumped and bounced as she moved. Her legs were long and lean and made for entwining themselves around men's bodies.
"Basically," Dorothy said, as she lay that gorgeous hunk of meat on the couch, "I've come to see you because of a sex problem." She lifted her hand and plucked an imaginary speck from her false eyelashes.
"I see," I said, although I couldn't understand how such a dish could have the slightest problem with sex. But with women, you never know.
Dorothy crossed one superb leg over the other. The depression in her slacks made a large, natural V around her crotch. I knew what was there.
"What I mean is... well, all I am is a sex object." I could certainly see why. But I simply looked at her without expression. "Men just don't give a damn about my brains. Christ! I'm a graduate of Florida U. I read books. I even play the oboe. But men just don't care. They don't even listen to me when I open my mouth. The only time they're interested in my mouth being open, is if I put their you-know-what in it. All I am is a sex object to men." She raised. a dainty linen hanky to her eyes, and started lightly sobbing, "I want to be a person. Not a piece of merchandise. I mean I have nothing against sex, but there are a few other things in this world, aren't there?"
"I see," I repeated. I absolutely loved the way her boobies jumped around when she got emotional.
"What can I do?" Dorothy pleaded, "I've tried everything. Stuck my hair up in an ugly bun. Ate onions. Tried wearing dumpy clothes. I've done everything in the book to make myself ugly. But it doesn't matter. All I am to men is a body. Just a body!" Her hanky went back to her eye.
She was right. Otherwise, why was my cock standing up?
"I know you're a doctor. But, frankly you're the first man whose head didn't swivel around when you saw me. I want to tell you that that is very reassuring. Thank you for that, Doctor."
In my notebook, I write down: Pure cunt. Love it. Anxious to get in. Holy shit. Anxious as hell.
I looked at her. "To be perfectly honest with you, when you walked in all I saw was a patient." I cleared my throat. "Perhaps you should ask yourself if its possible that you want men to see you this way."
"Oh, come off it, doc," she said.
"I'm not joking." I looked out my window like I didn't care about what I was saying. "Have you ever heard of the subconscious? It's the real part of people, not the phony part. Maybe in your subconscious you really want to be... just a body... to use your phrase."
"But that's so ridiculous, I have to laugh. Ha."
"Nothing is ridiculous. Not in this office. In here, everything goes. Every possibility is explored. We leave no stone unturned." No cunt unfucked, I thought to myself.
"But I don't want men to see me that way. It utterly disgusts me. It's like I'm a walking sex machine."
"Well, don't expect to understand all about yourself in such a flash. That takes time, you know."
Dorothy drew her legs up. It got me hard, just thinking of resting my prick inside those sweet thighs.
I continued. "Let's get down to the specifics of your problem. We have to work with specifics here, of course. Now, you say men always treat you as a body. Why don't you give me an example of one of the most delicious... ahem... rather, disgusting things that have happened to you."
"Jeez... I'd have trouble picking one. There have been so many vulgar incidents."
"Just pick the most disgusting," I repeated. I lay back in my recliner as though I were ready to watch a full length movie.
"Well, just a couple weeks ago... yes... Oh, wow... that was really disgusting."
"Go on," I urged, impatiently. My face was getting warmer and my cock was throbbing away.
Dorothy closed her eyes as she went on.
"Well, I was waiting for a bus on Broadway. I had just had another boring stupid day at the office, and I was really anxious to get home and jump into the tub. Well, this man, tall, nice looking started talking to me. But he really seemed interested in me as a person."
"Not as a body," I said, squeezing my legs together.
"Yes. Well, he says to me, 'Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude, but you look like there's something troubling you. Can I help in any way?' He was so gentle and sweet when he spoke that I talked with him. I mean I never knew... never had an idea what a revolting slob he was."
"Yes... "
"So, I told him about myself... where I work... what a schmuck of a man I have for a boss... Mr. Raymond... yecch... and... I don't know... I guess I just opened up to him. He seemed so understanding and sympathetic... the slob."
"Mmmm hmmmm... "
"He said his apartment was near mine, and asked whether I'd consider stopping over... you know... for a little drink and a little chatting. Christ... did I buy his line... hook, line and sinker... but, of course, I was too dumb to know it at the time -- god how dumb I was. Anyway, he lives on 96th and Broadway, so we got off the bus there, and then up four flights to his apartment. Can you imagine that? Four damned flights... just to go through all his crap!"
"Tell me more about... his crap." My cock wasn't going to wait all day. "Well, we got up there, and I said to him, 'Gee, your place is pretty messy,' and he said, 'oh, don't worry about that... the maid deans up tomorrow.' Then all of a sudden he shuts the door tight, turns a key in it and turns around with this absolutely crazy look in his eyes. Just like that! Then he says -- are you ready for this, doc -- he says, 'I'm really going to give it to you.' I couldn't believe he said that, so I said, as sweetly as I could, 'Excuse me, but would you repeat that, please?' You know... hoping maybe he was just joking around or something. But he said, 'I'm really going to give it to you... because you really deserve it!' Doctor... is there something wrong with a man's brain when he does that?"
"No. Usually bad childhood. But do go on."
"Well, what was I going to do? I was terrified. I looked around for something to defend myself with, but I couldn't see anything at all. In the movies, there's always something... but not there. He just stood there guarding the door. Then, he pulls me toward him by the front of my blouse and starts slapping my face... pretty hard, too... and he's mumbling, 'Gotta soften you up cunt... gotta soften you up for the big one.' Brother! was he a looney!"
I was overwhelmed with excitement. But with a lot of straining, I kept my composure.
"So he keeps slapping me and pulling my hair... I still don't know why... then he throws me down on his dirty damned bed. I bounce back up but he knocks me down. with his fist... I still have a mark here on my face... and this time I decide it's wisest to stay down. All of a sudden, he's standing over me with a rope in his hands. Christ... he must have had the whole thing planned... but he just keeps standing there... swinging this heavy rope in front of him. I thought he was going to hang me or something."
"Mmmm hmmmm."
"Well, he sits on my chest... practically squeezes my tits into nothing with his weight, and he somehow manages to get the rope around each wrist... and then he tied each one to a bedpost. My legs kicked and kicked but he was strong as a bull. Then he turns around so he's leaning on top of my stomach... and does the same things to my legs. Christ... he had me spread-eagle... you know... the way they describe it in books... but there I was. My skirt had come up pretty high, and he took full advantage of the view. He got a chair and placed it right in front of the bed... right in front of me so he could stare up my skirt. Good thing I had panties on. Anyway, I'm struggling... trying to loosen my arms and legs... but it's no use... he's got me too tight. He just keeps sitting there... kind of rocking back and forth in his chair... staring up my dress... saying, 'Now I've got you cunt. Got you helpless. And you can't do shit about it."
"You mean he just sat there... without doing anything to you?" If I had been in that chair... I would have been out of it a lot faster.
"Yes. For about five or ten minutes. Just sat there... rocking back and forth... saying, 'Now I've got you cunt... just the way I want you.' He had this crazy look in his eyes. He was mad."
"Do go on," I urged. This was just too good.
"It's so... sickening. How can I continue."
"You must go on," I urged, "How can I help you if you don't go on. Remember, we need specifics in analysis, or there can be no cure. No cure." My cock pressed against my pants so hard it was painful.
"Yes... well, finally he gets off his damned chair... I guess he had done enough looking... and then... Jesus, you won't believe it, doc... he reaches in his shirt pocket and pulls out a pack of matches. 'Would you like to burn, baby?' he asks me... what the hell did he expect me to say?... yes?... the bastard! Anyway, he lights the damned thing and sticks it up near my eyes. 'You got nice eyes. I could burn 'em right out,' he says. The he lights another and puts it in front of my mouth... "I could make you eat fire if I wanted," he says. I still had some fight in me so I told him to shove the match up his ass. 'Aw ..: he says to me... 'honey got a big mouth? Let's close it.' He takes a filthy hanky from his pocket... it was all wrinkled and filthy... and ties it around my mouth... 'There... you look good... you really look good you cunt,' he says. Then he raises my skirt up above my panties... and says, 'What a pretty little pussy you have... all the better to burn you with,' and he grabs hold of my panties and tears them right off... the bastard. So I'm laying there... spread out helplessly... and he's gazing down into my pussy. 'You sure have a pretty bush,' he says, 'I wonder if it would burn.' Then he lights another match and puts it right up there between my legs." She stopped momentarily.
"Please go on." I think it sounded like I was begging. I was.
"Well... he singed my hair... it got pretty hot... but I was so damned scared... I started to yell through the gag in my mouth."
"I can understand that," I said. I rarely listened to patients with the same kind of eager attention I gave this story. I had to wipe my brow to keep all the perspiration off.
"Know what he does next? He says, 'Aw, baby can't take it!" Then the maniac rips off my skirt, blouse and bra. All I had on were my shoes. So I'm just laying there... all exposed... spread-eagle like that... god it was awful!"
"It must have been."
"It was."
"Oh, the workings of the sick mind," I said.
"Yes. Well, then he lights another match and starts to work on my nipples... it really hurt... I was screaming... but no one could hear... his damn snot rag was shoved up my mouth... 'Lets see those little red fellows get big,' he said, still holding a match to my nipples. 'That's it... my... my... see how they rise up... Christ, doctor... is that supposed to happen... I mean was it natural for my nipples to harden up like that?"
'Perhaps you were subconsciously excited." I was consciously excited.
"Now comes the gas. This really blew my mind. This pervert gets up and says, 'Now you wait right here. I'll be back with a little surprise for you.' Wait right here! Where the hell could I go?"
"Mmmm hmmm."
"Then he comes back with a funny looking object. It has a big ball on the end with little rubber projections. There's a long fat plastic stem connected to the ball end... the whole thing looked like a crazy dildo... I don't know... it had a long black cord attached to it."
"What was it?" I asked, my imagination fired up incredibly.
"The nut says, 'What do you think? I made it myself. With my own little hands. I call it, Harvey's super-duper vibo-machine. I plan to sell it on the market. Gonna make a million with it. Just shove it in... put it on... and watch out, baby... cuz this little number does something to your insides that can't be beat. Gonna make a million on it. But, course, I got to try it out... right cunt? I mean you wouldn't want me selling something to the public that doesn't work right... would you? So, pretty cunt... consider yourself the loveliest guinea pig that ever helped a scientist out."
"Disgusting," I said. Jesus, was I ready to go.
"God, was it. But he kept talking, See... now let me tell you, sweet cunt... I got my whole advertising worked out... I'll run local ads... TV commercials... radio ... the works... all I'll say is... you come and come and come and come. See... it's guaranteed to keep you coming... for as long as you keep the power on. Now, I see that we don't need much preparation, since your cunt is already layed out for me... nice and wide open... so won't you let me just stick it right in... here... I've got a little vaseline to sort of oil you up... I mean... this thing's big... and I don't know if you could take all of it if you weren't properly lubricated.' The pervert sticks his big finger in the vaseline jar and smears it all over my pussy... on the lips... my clit... way up in the hole... even puts his fingers up my asshole. 'Got to make sure you're well lubricated,' he says again.
"Disgusting."
"So, he's got me all greased up. He sits on the side of me and starts working the goddamned instrument up my hole. It was cold. He pulled my pussy lips apart as far as they'd go and just kept pushing and shoving till he got the whole head of the thing inside me... I had never had a man like that in me... not ever in my life. Then he says, 'Okay, little sweetness. Now, you're going to have the greatest time of your life... that is, if my little gadget works... yes ma'am... you cunt you... you'll come until your ass falls off. Are we ready?' What the fuck could I do... say no? I struggled with my arms and legs, but he just made the ropes too tight. 'Okay, cunt. Get ready now. You're going to go out of your fucking mind. You're going to come and come till doomsday.' Then he turned the switch.
"Yes. Yes."
"It was sick, doctor. That monster of a machine vibrated the daylights out of me. I couldn't control myself if I tried. The thing just jumped around inside me. Every muscle in my body started shaking. Christ... my whole insides just heated up with excitement... what the hell could I do... spread-eagled like that... the machine just kept humming away... and my entire body went through muscle contortions. It was disgusting doctor... because it was the most exciting thing that has ever happened... wow... if a man could turn me on like that machine... my juices were just dribbling out of me... and this schmuck is sitting there on the bed... nodding his head up and down... with this ridiculous look on his face going... 'Yes... I think it's working... oh, how utterly perfect... you are coming... aren't you... my precious cunt.' "
"Were you?" I practically was.
"Of course I was. What could I do? I couldn't resist the sensations, stretched out like that with that vibrator powering away at my insides. The bastard was right. I came and I came and I came. Never came like that in my life. If the circumstances weren't so disgusting, I might have really enjoyed it... but the whole thing was so horrible, really. All the time, the stupid crud just kept sitting there with that grin on his face, saying, 'It sure works well... doesn't it cunt?... what'd I tell you... guaranteed to make you come over and over again... you look like you're having such a wonderful time... just look at yourself... shaking away with such ecstasy.' "
"Quite a sadist," I said. I was harder than a rock.
"The pervert! Just kept watching me... sticking his head right up close to my pussy while his damned machine kept me shaking. I don't know how many times I came... but I'm sure I set a world record. While I'm jerking around, he gets up on the bed... between my legs... standing over me... and he unzips his pants. Out of it he pulls his cock. 'Gonna come on you, precious cunt. Wouldn't soil my special prick inside that dirty old hole of yours, though.' Then he started jerking himself off... 'You fucking cunt,' he kept saying, as his hand is pumping his prick faster and faster."
"Did he come on you?"
"Did he come on me! White crap came pouring out like there was no tomorrow. All over me. All over my tits, my face, my pussy. All over his vibrator... which he still hadn't turned off. 'Okay, cunt... you can relax now. You've convinced me it works... you've really been extra nice about the whole thing. I'm going to turn it off, now.' He gets off the bed and flicks off the switch. Christ... I'd never been through anything like that before. My entire body felt like it was ready to be carted away with the garbage. He took his snot rag out of my mouth; and then he undid each of the ropes, so my hands and legs were finally free. Now, you ready for this?"
"Go ahead, please," I said. Patience wasn't my virtue. I just couldn't wait to get into her pants.
"Well, he says, 'Okay, cunt... that's it. Thank you very much. I really enjoyed it. You were super.' Can you believe that? That's all he wanted. Then he threw me my clothes, unlocked his door and shoved me out. Just like that. Just like that. Christ. What makes somebody do something like that?"
"Well, there are a lot of sickies around. Trouble is... the people who need analysis most, just never come. It's a shame. But... let's get back to this thing about the vibrator. I find that very disturbing. Did you know that inserting foreign objects like that... into the vagina... can have serious consequences?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the vagina is a very sensitive area. It's possible he did some internal harm, there."
"I really don't think so," Dorothy said, "I think it's all right. It was two weeks ago."
"Yes, I know," I said, "but these tissues are so very delicate. This area of the body can never be treated lightly. You see... it's possible that he's upset your womanly balance... by that, I mean it's possible that you may never be able to have children, now."
"You're kidding," she said.
"Not in the least. And now, Dorothy, as a doctor it's necessary for me to examine you. I have to care about the physical as well as the emotional side of my patients. It's my ethical responsibility to give you an examination. Let's just call it a precautionary measure."
I had to grit my teeth to keep from shooting my load in my pants. This was going to be good. I got up and came over to the couch where Dorothy's exquisite, long body lay. I was hoping she wouldn't be able to hear the thunderous roar of my heartbeat. Christ, I heard it.
"Let's have a look, now," I said in my coolest, most professional manner. I placed both my hands on top of her silk pants. "Now, if we'll just lift up slightly. That's it." She lifted her wide pelvis, and I was able to bring her slacks down to her knees. I let my hands brush lightly against her soft skin, and Dorothy responded by an unconscious gasp of air. She wore white panties with her name imprinted on the side of them -- Dotty -- in script form with fancy, black thread lettering. Now I knew as well as her hair dresser, because I could see luscious curls of light blonde pussy hair sticking out of her panties.
"Now, let's lift up just once more. I can't examine you if what I'm going to examine is all covered up with panties."
She lifted herself up again, and with both thumbs I got the panties down. I felt like a starving child who is suddenly given a pound of yummy cookies. She had a big bush of blonde pussy hair. Just waiting for me. Dorothy was breathing a little irregularly. I suppose it was just nervousness. But that cunt, and those long velvet legs, which she kept tight together, made my fingers tremble.
"Is this really necessary? I'm sure I'm okay down there."
I smiled my sweetest. "If it weren't necessary... why would I waste our precious time? It's your health I'm concerned about. You should be concerned, too."
My impatient fingers, still trembling, went lightly on top of her bush.
"My, my," I said. "I can see that some of these hairs are singed just a bit. From when he put the match here. How terrible. What a sick thing to do."
I leaned my head in closer and began to examine her precious cunt hairs one by one. My arms rested on her soft, smooth thighs. Yes, the girl was trembling.
"Are you sure this... is really necessary?" Dorothy had her hands behind her head and was looking up at the ceiling. Sometimes looking away makes the patient feel more comfortable.
"Please, try to relax," I said, for I could feel the tension in her body. With both hands, I parted the lovely silken hairs of her cunt. And there it was. Her big, pink pussy lips. There seemed to be a glistening drop of fluid on them.
"Oh, these tissues are so sensitive, so delicate. They must always be treated with such tenderness and care." And with as much gentleness as possible, my fingers explored away. God, how long did I have to wait to get in there? "You know, Dorothy, that as long as you keep your legs tight like that there's no possible way I can continue my examination. Just ease your legs apart a little. If you feel uncomfortable about my touching you... why don't you just make believe you're down at Miami Beach, lying in the hot sun, taking a long-needed vacation. That's what I do when I go to the dentist. It really seems to help."
Dorothy relaxed her long, luscious legs a little more.
"Mmmm hmmmm," I said quietly, like I was making profound medical discoveries. "Mmmm hmmmmm."
She had a good size clit. I held her soft lips apart and brought my head close to it. I touched it with one finger and her legs jumped.
"Oh, this organ... the clitoris... is a temperamental organ. Foul play can affect it permanently. But it looks in healthy condition to me."
I took her clit between two fingers and rolled it to the left, to the right. I squeezed it. I flicked it. I pressed down on it.
"Any sensitivity. I mean unusual sensitivity?"
"Nothing... unusual... " she said.
"Yes. That's good. Reactions are quite normal. A slight swelling and bulging of this sensitive organ is quite natural. Quite natural." The swelling and bulging that was going on in my own pants was quite natural, too.
Dorothy's cunt got noticeably wetter. I spread her pussy lips wide and watched the white goo produce itself.
"My goodness," I said, "you mean he actually stuck that monstrous machine up into you? How very terrible."
I took one finger and let it glide deep inside her. Heaven couldn't be nicer. Her insides were wet and deep and wonderful. I let my finger roam around inside her hole, tickling her soft, inside walls.
"How about it here? Any unusual sensations? Any unusual tenderness?"
"I don't think so."
"Mmmm hmmmm."
Dorothy's hips began a slight rotating motion in response to my probing finger. I added a couple more fingers. God knows, there was plenty of room up in there. I was going mad with desire. But I keep my expression cool. Years of practice helps you do that.
"Now, I am having some trouble getting way up there. The deeper areas are the most delicate. Let me just remove your pants from your legs, and you can spread your legs even wider. That would help me immensely."
She didn't resist. I removed her slacks and panties from her knees, pulling them down so they lay in a heap at the bottom of the couch.
"Oh, that'll make things so much easier," I said. I was perspiring noticeably. She was naked from the waist down. She was formed beautifully, wonderfully.
"Now, if you'll just put one leg up on the side of the couch and let the other hang over the side, I'll be able to complete my examination."
Dorothy was a good patient. She did exactly as I instructed, exposing her wet cunt to my hungry eyes.
"Aaaah, that's so much better. So much better."
I slid four fingers into her dripping pussy, shoving hard. I got them in much deeper than before. Like before, Dorothy's body responded to my moving fingers. She was slowly swiveling her hips and her cunt was producing gobs of goo. Keeping up the pretense -- knowing how excited she was -- I removed my fingers from her burning cunt and looked down at her.
"Why, your vagina is simply flooded with excitement. I had no idea that you were so excitable. It just wasn't my intention to stimulate you like this. Not at all."
Dorothy looked at me helplessly. What could she say? She couldn't deny what her body gave away.
"Jesus, doctor... I'm sorry," she said.
"Well, don't be sorry. It's quite natural. But how am I to continue when you're in such a state?"
Dorothy shrugged her lovely shoulders.
"Let me make... an unusual suggestion. Suppose I bring you to orgasm. It will take just a moment. Let me simply get rid of your frustration. That way we can get on with your problem. You see, there's no way I can help you as long as you remain in this excitable condition."
I sat on the edge of the couch and crossed my legs, nonchalantly, waiting for her response.
"Well, I suppose so."
"The question is... how am I going to give it to you?"
"Well, you could go down on me... I like that."
"Yes... that's one way. But perhaps we could find something... a little more disgusting." There must have been a bright gleam in my eyes.
"More disgusting?"
"Yes. You see... since you've had so many disgusting things happen to you... sexually that is... I thought perhaps I could play the part of one of the disgusting men in your life. It's like play acting. We'll recreate the scene. Then you simply tell me what's going on... what your feelings are while we do it. That way, while I bring you to orgasm... we can use the time valuably."
Dorothy looked at me, thinking to herself. I tried to keep my eyes from her crotch. At least for the moment. She still kept one leg up over the side of the couch, so that her pussy was in full view. It was hard to keep my eyes away.
"Well," she said, "there was this photographer. When I was starting out as a model."
"Yes? What disgusting things did he do to you?"
"Christ. He got me into the most obscene poses. Told me that was the only way I could break into the business. You can't imagine the kinds of pictures he took. He's still got the negative. Christ. One of my old boyfriends had one of these dirty photo books... you know... with the beaver shots... and there I was... five pages of me... with my pussy hanging out... all sorts of positions... I was embarrassed... the photographer never told me he would use them... my god... just the thought of all those men staring up into my pusssy."
"Perhaps you'd like to show me some of those poses."
"You're kidding!"
"Not in the least. It'll do you a world of good. Just strike some of those poses... and tell me how you feel while you do it. Just play act it. It's an important part of analysis." My imagination had already taken off.
"And what will you do?"
"I'll just watch. But in my mind... you make believe I'm that horny photographer. Maybe I'll make a few disgusting remarks... maybe I'll even ask you to do a few obscene positions... all play acting of course. Yes... I'll make believe I'm the photographer... and you do as I tell you... but the important thing is that you tell me how you feel while we play act."
"But... I just can't picture you as that horny photographer. You're a doctor. And you've been so good with me."
"Sometimes, doctors are called upon to do strange things. It's all part of analysis. Didn't you know that every psychiatrist has to take a year of acting courses? It's all for situations like this. It's so we can play act with our patients. It speeds up health so quickly, you wouldn't believe it."
"How do we start?"
"Okay," I said, and I got up... removing my suit jacket. My bone stuck out hard in my pants, and Dorothy could see it. "You lay there... like you are now... with your legs spread like that... and I'll make like I'm taking pictures of you."
"Jesus, Doctor. You've got a erection. I thought you said play acting."
"Silly girl. Of course I have an erection. I told you. One year of acting courses. Didn't that photographer have a hard-on when he was taking pictures of you?"
"I don't know. He was wearing his shirt out... over his crotch."
"Of course, he did. You know that, Dorothy. And that's why I do. Why should we create a scene if we don't do it realistically?"
I walked to one end of the couch and peered up between her legs. Then I made like I had a camera and was taking pictures.
"Okay," I said, playing the role of the photographer, "spread 'em wider, honey. Right. Now hold it open. Hold the cunt open. Say cheese."
"Christ, doctor. This is realistic. You do it so well." She did spread her legs wider. She held her cuntlips open with both hands as I clicked away with my imaginary camera.
"Now. Tell me how you feel while you do that?" I knew how I felt. Play acting, shit. What a cunt she had. "I feel... humiliated."
"Good. Good. Wonderful. Okay, now, open your top and take your bra off. Then squeeze both tits with your hands, keeping your legs wide. And smile, damnit. You want to be a model... or not? Now do what I say."
Dorothy did as I told her. She unbuttoned her silk top, removed it, then undid her bra. What a pair of boobies. Big, soft babies. She grabbed the creamy tits in her hands, keeping her legs open.
"Cheese," I said.
She smiled. My cock was wild. "Click. Click. Good. Click."
I moved around her, making like I was taking close-ups while she held that ridiculous -- but thrilling -- pose. "Click. Click. Click."
"Now shove your whole left hand up your box and put your right hand in the air, sticking your third finger up... like you're saying 'fuck you: " Dorothy shoved her hand in. Must have been pretty wet to slide in so easily. She raised her middle finger.
"Okay. That's it. Now don't smile. Remember... this is the 'fuck the world' shot. Click. Click. Click." I was really enjoying this.
"Okay. One finger up your ass. Spread your legs and raise 'em higher!" I commanded.
"Don't you want me to tell you how I feel when we do this?" Dorothy asked.
"Oh, yes," I said. "I forgot. I'm sorry. How did you feel about saying fuck the world?' "
"I felt humiliated again. With that pose."
"Good. Excellent. Now, let's try one with centerfold possibilities. Put your own tit in your mouth, and let your tongue hang out of the side of your mouth like you're having an absolutely delicious meal."
It was no trouble for Dorothy to, get that massive tit to her mouth. I wished to hell I had my Polaroid at the office. Jesus... these were better shots than I ever took with Anne. Jesus. "Click. Click."
"Okay. How do you feel?"
"Still humiliated."
"Great. Good. Okay. Now roll over on your stomach. Spread your asscheeks wide. Let me see deep down into the hole. I'm gonna take some close-ups. Spread apart wide as you can. I'll have you in Playboy in a month."
Dorothy rolled over. What a fuckin ass this broad had. Fluffy white cheeks. Meaty and plump. Her hands went behind her and she spread them apart.
"Click. Click." I moved in for the close-up. Jesus. What a hole. I could see both holes. And the goo was pouring out. "Click.
"I feel... dirty and disgusting when I do this," Dorothy said.
"That's important to know," I said. "All right now... we're just getting started. Let's try something really unusual. Get on your hands and legs, on the floor. Yes. Let your tits just swing down naturally. Now take this hand kerchief" -- I handed her mine from my pocket -- "yes, stick it in your ass so it stays. This will be a symbolic shot. You'll have the white surrender flag waving-out of your ass. And you look between your own legs like you're begging forgiveness. Got it?"
This one really knew how to listen. She pushed a corner of the hanky up her ass so it held. Then she got on her hands and knees, just like I asked.
"And how do you feel about this one?" I asked. "Click. Click."
"I feel awful. Goddamned awful!"
"Good. It's so helpful to know that. Now. Let's try another shot. Go over to that chair, pick it up, and stick one of the legs in your cunt. And wink. Boy, what a centerfold!"
Dorothy got up and went to the chair. She got the leg in her cunt. The chair was a bit heavy, so her muscles strained for the pose. Her tits hung there... soft and creamy.
"Good. Okay. Click. Now, put the chair down. Okay. One hand up your cunt, one finger up your ass and turn sideways, so I can see your tits stick out. Give me a look of love. Like you want me badly."
Dorothy followed instructions beautifully. Each hand got into its proper position, and she turned sideways. God, was this tall thing built!
"Click. Click. Nice. We got that one. Perfect. Wait a minute. You're getting perspiration on you. Don't want that to show up in the pictures. Remember, these are beauty shots... and we don't want any wet bodies."
I went over to her -- still harder than shit -- and began wiping off the real perspiration that had formed on her body.
"Gotta clean you up for the next picture," I said. My hands wiped her shoulders, her tits... I really worked hard on her left nipple to get the perspiration off... rubbed her long stomach off... brushed off her pussy... up and down with my open hand like I was drying her off... then let my hands run down her long legs.
"Okay, now you're dry. Ready for another? Hold on to your nipples and pull them upward, proudly... like you're saying to the world that you've got the best pair in the world."
Dorothy pulled her nipples up.
"Click. Click." My camera was right up there with the nipples. "Click."
"I feel... "
"Yes. Tell me. That's why we're doing all of this. Click."
"I feel like I'm being used."
"Yes. Fine. Now honey, I'm having some trouble shooting you now because your body is too tensed up. None of the Playboy girls are ever tense. The thing is to relax. Relaxed pictures always come out so much better. So I'll just have to relax your body.
I stood directly in front of her and took both her big luscious tits in my hands. I squeezed the shit out of them. God, they were so soft.
"How do you feel?" I asked, still massaging.
"Humiliated."
"Certainly. Normal reaction."
I almost brutally shoved "a finger up her hot, wet cunt.
"Ooof" she said. I worked it in and out rapidly while my other hand remained playing with her hanging tit. "Still humiliated?" I asked.
"Still."
"Try this for humiliation," I said, and in a few seconds I lowered my pants so that my stiff prick jutted out in front of me.
"Think I'll ram it in you."
"Doctor... isn't this going a little far?"
"Not as far as this is going," I said, and I started to wedge my cock into her pussy. Automatically her legs widened for me. She was the model of my dreams.
"Christ, doctor. Are you play acting or what?" she said, feeling my cock bumping up inside of her.
"Of course I'm play acting," I said, nuzzling my head on her shoulder.
"Well, you sure act real."
"One year of acting school. Great instructor. I got an A in the course."
I was pumping away inside of her. Her tits bounced against my chest. I slid my cock out.
"Okay. Turn around and bend over. I'm gonna do you up the ass."
"It feels so... "
"Yes... I know... humiliating."
She turned her back to me and leaned down, holding onto the chair. I moved in for the plunge. Her asshole was a little tight, but with persistent thrusting, I managed to wedge it up there. Her ass gripped my hard cock tight like a vise. I pummeled and pushed my prick into her. Her asscheeks just bounced around. In response to my hard thrusts, her big tits flew around under her. "Now how do you feel?" I asked.
"The same."
"Yes," I said with understanding. I grabbed her fleshy tits in my hands and squeezed and squeezed. Like a pair of soft grapefruits. The tunnel of her ass had loosened and widened by my thrusts, and now my cock worked much more easily into her. Dorothy had lost control and wasn't play acting any more. Her breathing was hard and she was moaning from it all.
"Good," I said.
Deeper and deeper I plunged my cock, while I massaged those wonderful tits. I changed angles to keep the excitement going. I tilted to the left, and thrust my cock to the right. Then I tilted to the right, and shoved it left. Then I started a circular motion, working my prick round and round like I was screwing myself into her. Her moans grew louder. I myself was moaning. I myself was coming. Holding on to her tits with all my might, I leg myself surrender to my orgasm. I gushed out inside of her... my hot fluid racing deep into her. Some of the fluid spilled out on the sides of her ass. It was fantastic to the last drop. "How do you feel?"
"Jesus, doctor. I didn't know you were going to come."
"Play acting," I said. "Now do you feel any better?"
"I didn't come yet. I thought you were going to bring me to orgasm," she said. "But I am. I am," I said, removing my limp cock from her asshole. But you must give me a few minutes to get hard again. I'm not Superman. Although I have been compared to him. Uh, by my wife, that is. Of course, if you can't wait a few minutes... you could speed things up by making me hard."
"I can't wait. I'm so horny."
"Fine. Just get on your hands and knees and blow me. Get it up there hard. Then we can finish you off, like you want."
Dorothy got down on all fours like a dog, and crawled in front of me. I had to bend my knees slightly to get my prick in her mouth. While she put it in, I removed my shirt and T-shirt, throwing them down.
"That's it," I. said, "but if you start by licking my ass and balls first, I think that will hurry it up."
Dorothy did as I suggested. She got her long tongue between my asscheeks and wiggled it up my ass. My bone was hardening. Then she delicately put one ball in her mouth, and let her tongue toy with it. Then, she returned to my now almost fully erect prick and put it back in her mouth. Back and forth she moved her soft, full lips. It didn't take long till I was as hard as I could get.
"I think you're ready now," she said, still on her hands and knees.
"I'm ready," I said.
I rolled her over so she lay on her back. She had her legs spread wide, waiting for me. The inside of her thighs were wet from cunt juice and her lovely pussy hairs shone with the afternoon sun.
I got down between her legs, pausing for a moment to gaze at the large wet wonder that awaited me.
"Okay," I said, "ready?"
"Jesus, yes," she said.
"Me, too."
I rammed it in. It went straight up her hole without the slightest resistance. She sure was ready. I drove hard into her fiery canyon. It was sheer joy. Her nails dug deep into my asscheeks as she helped my movements... pulling my weight farther and farther inside of her. We bumped together harder and faster. Her big tits bobbled back and forth on top of her.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"Great. Goddamned great," she said.
Dorothy's long bones bounced against the carpet. Her skin was like hot velvet. The soft skin seemed to dance in tiny ripples as she shook from my thrusts.
"Christ, doctor. I'm coming now."
Six feet of woman clutched me. Her arms held tight around my neck. Her legs gripped me so hard, it was painful. She smashed her body harder and harder against me. Then she exploded. Her body went wild.
"Ooh" she moaned, as the last ounce of come came.
I unloaded right then. Not as much fluid as before, but just as powerful. Every spurt shot into her like darts. It was as good as my first orgasm.
I got off Dorothy, and went to my recliner. Still naked, I leaned back on it.
"Why don't you just relax there on the carpet while you tell me what you feel?" I crossed my legs and picked up my notebook. The naked psychiatrist. Dorothy lay back and put her hands behind her head, She crossed her long, wonderful legs. I could see she was much more relaxed now.
"As I told you... it was all pretty humiliating for me. It's the same way I felt with the photographer. But why did we have to play act it? I could have told you."
"Ah," I said, scratching my balls -- some of her come was sticking on the hair, and it itched, "the thing is, I saw your reactions. Witnessed them with my own eyes. That kind of experience is necessary for me. I should watch you feel humiliated."
"But how will that help me? You mean... men won't look at me just as a body anymore... just because we play-acted that photographer scene?"
"You're being too logical."
"I just don't understand."
"Understanding takes time," I said, jotting down imaginary notes, "but before you can change... you have to know what you're feeling. And you now know these situations make you feel humiliated."
"But I've always known that."
"But I haven't."
"But what good does it do for you to know... I'm the one with the problem."
"But I'm the one that has to help you."
"So help me."
"I already have." I paused, trying to get the right words, "you're just not aware of being helped." It was a good line. We psychiatrists always pulled it every time we got any resistance from the patient. If they disagree with you... you just tell them they're not aware of something... not consciously aware. There's just no logical way to argue with the subconscious.
"I'm unaware of what?"
"Ah," I said, "you've already forgotten. Don't you remember at the beginning of the session I told you that perhaps you really wanted men to see you as a body?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's what you're unaware of. Because the truth is... you love men to see you that way. You want them to. With every bone in your body."
"That's a damned lie." She leaned up on her elbows and glared at me. Her huge melons hung down softly.
"Why would I lie? I've spent my life studying the mind. You mustn't consider the truth a lie. That's dangerous. That's why they put people away. People who can't tell the difference between what is real and what is false. You must know what you're feeling... and be honest about it."
Dorothy went back to lying down her head. Shit, what a body. Just stretched out like a langorous cat.
"Why would I want men to see me that way?" she asked.
"Now we get to the crux of it. Why don't you answer that one?"
"Well, if I knew the answer, I wouldn't ask."
She was becoming a little hostile. But it was a natural reaction when a patient was having trouble.
"I think you're just being lazy. You want me to do all the work for you. You try and answer it."
"I can't." She scratched under her arm. Her tit bounced.
"Try," I said.
"It's just not true. I don't want men to see me that way."
I crossed my legs over the other way. "All right, let me help you then. Take the reverse situation. Suppose no man looked at you. You walk down the street... your tits are bouncing and your ass is bouncing. No one looks. No one gives a shit. You get into a bathing suit and everybody turns away with disgust. You have an intimate, romantic evening with a man and he says he wants to keep the relationship platonic. As a matter of fact, just imagine you're looking at yourself in the mirror... and you're bored. Can't stand what you see. Now, tell me if that's what you want."
"I never thought about it quite like that."
"Ah, but I have. What do you think was going on in my mind when we were play acting? I was thinking about your problem. Now, let's go on. Nobody looks at you. Nobody stares. Nobody cares about your body. You're no longer a object to men. You're nothing. They wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole -- not to mention with their prick. You're ugly to men. Touching you is the last thing in the world they'd want to do. Looking at you makes them nauseous. Now, how would you like that?"
"I wouldn't."
"Well, then I've made my point. You're problem isn't that men see you as a body. You like that. You love that. Your problem is that you refuse to enjoy their attentions. Because you make everything disgusting in your mind... you cheapen sex. Yes. You cheapen sex!"
"I never thought about it that way," she said. She toyed with her nipple as she reflected on what I said.
"That's why you've come to see me. Because I'm trained to see things that you can't see. That's why I'm charging you thirty dollars for this session. That's why."
"Doctor. I'm sorry I said you were lying. I had no idea of how I was kidding yourself. Yes, come to think of it, while we were play acting before... I was really enjoying myself. Christ, yes. It was a gas. I was just kidding myself about feeling humiliated. The truth is... I loved it."
"Now... we're really making progress," I said. "Of course you loved it. I could see it in your eyes. Your whole expression. Your body. You love sex. Every tiny part of it. And you're built to love it. So why hold yourself back? Let yourself go and you'll be a happy person."
"I see what you mean."
I looked at my watch. We had run a half an hour over, right into my lunch hour.
"My goodness. It's 12:30," I said. "We've run over. But... we made very good use of the time, I think. You're really a much happier person, already. Your problem is practically solved. But I think I'll have to charge you fifty dollars for this session."
"Fifty dollars? 'Why?"
"Well, I always charge a higher rate when there's a cure. Every psychiatrist does it. Certainly, this session is worth more if we solve your problems than if we just talk about them. But let me tell you... what you have gained today cannot be measured in money. It's priceless. You will go through the rest of your life with greater understanding of yourself. It's been a priceless session. Fifty dollars for happiness? I'd say that's pretty cheap at the price."
"I suppose you're right. I guess when it comes to happiness, it's worth anything."
"That's how I feel about it. Fifty dollars? Cheap at the price. Fifty dollars. Plus tax, that is. You know how the government is. That's a total of sixty dollars. Still pretty cheap for a heap of understanding."
"Tax?"
"You don't think psychiatrists are exempt from the law do you? I file my income taxes every year... just like you. Sixty dollars is a bargain. Let's not quibble over silly things. Why don't you get dressed. Spend the week doing some thinking about our session today. Then next week, we can get into more details."
Dorothy rose and started putting her clothes on.
"Now much will next session cost? Anyway," she said, slipping on her panties, "I thought you said I was cured. Why do I have to see you any more?"
"A superb question. But a simple answer. Nobody is ever 100% cured. It's a matter of degree. I'd say that today you're about 15% cured. A fantastic percentage for just one session. Perhaps we can get you up to 30% by next session. And regarding your first question... well, if we can get 15% more out of you... I'll have to charge you the same as today."
"Fifty dollars."
"Sixty dollars."
"That's right. I forgot the tax."
Dorothy finished dressing, and I saw her to the door. I was still stark naked. "Next week," I said, and she left.
CHAPTER FOUR
All my hard years of training were finally paying off. I never had imagined that psychiatry could be so much fun. Yes, I felt like I was a sexual madman, but I loved every minute of it. For the few weeks that followed, I didn't think about how I might be ruining my career. I thought only of my lust, and how I could best express it.
I continued seeing Jeannette. I had her convinced that my methods were truly going to help her... and each session I found new perverted ways to have sex with her. I honestly believed I was helping the girl, because she started to come into the office with a smile, and she began dressing like she knew she was a woman. Dorothy had turned into a real winner. Each session, she needed no encouragement at all. I had convinced her how much she loved sex, and we proved it every hour we had together. She was up to about 70% cure.
My evenings of course, as usual, continued to be sexual delights for me with Alice. She continued to provide me with assortments of sex that made my cock reel. And yes, we continued to see John and Ginger from next door. We had a couple of nights with them that could be turned into a great sex novel.
But I still wasn't satisfied. I wanted more. Jeannette and Dorothy I saw two days of the working week. But that left three days open. Three horny days without sex. I had to fill the time gaps. I needed it every day and every night.
I did something that psychiatrists are not supposed to do. I advertised in some of the underground newspapers. It was a quack's method of getting patients, but I didn't care. I was desperate to have more beauties at my disposal. Tuesdays, Wednesday and Fridays were just too dull.
I spent a good deal of time composing the ad for the newspapers. I wanted to be sure I got what I wanted. My advertisement read: YOUNG, ATTRACTIVE FEMALES who are having problems with parents, lovers, job, guaranteed help. Professional man specializes in this area. Initial consultation free. No 'sex play. On the up and up. BOX 15567 New York.
The advertisement ran in three different underground papers and in one week's time, I had received fifteen letters. The bit about "no sex play" was a come on, of course. I knew once I got them in my office I could amend that line. The problem was, I had neglected to tell them to send photos. The initial batch of girl's I screened could hardly be described as atttractive. And two of them were over forty. I did the screening during my lunch hour, and after a week, I was disgusted with the results.
So I reran the ad, this time demanding photo. It was much easier that way, although, as I suspected, a lot of horny old ladies sent snapshots taken years ago when they were in their prime. At any rate, though I still interviewed a few dogs, I was able to screen out the baddies much faster.
After about three weeks... I managed to select three gals to my liking. All were indeed young and attractive. All needed help. Who doesn't? I fit one into the Tuesday slot, one into the Wednesday slot, one into Friday's. A fuck a day. Or more, if time allowed.
The Tuesday, three o'clock slot was filled by Tina. She was a senior at City College and was having trouble studying. She wanted to be a psychologist, but with her poor study habits she was worried she couldn't get into grad school. The way she was built, guys would pay her just to walk down the street. She didn't need grad school. But if that's what she wanted, it was my job to help her.
She looked like a young Sophia Loren. Italian, with wild black hair. Big tits. Solid and fleshy. Sophia for sure. Except for the horn-rimmed glasses she wore. I suppose wearing them made her feel more intellectual. My method with Tina was really quite simple. I told her not to focus on her grades, but to focus on her professional desire -- to be a psychologist. I told her that since I was a psychiatrist -- and had so much experience -- I could help her with her goal.
The method? Lovely. When she came into my office -- for the first session -- I suggested that she take my recliner and I lay down on the couch.
"Do all psychiatrists do that?" she asked.
"Of course not. But you have a unique problem. I think perhaps you are resisting the thought of being a psychologist. Deep down, of course."
"Of course," she said. She tried to impress me with the fact that she. knew all there was to know about this process called analysis. "Of course, you must be right," she said, "I suppose I'm repressing my conflicts."
"Yes, probably," I said. We spoke the same language. "Now, my idea is that if you play like you're a psychologist... and let me be your patient... why then, you can see what it really feels like. This way you can under-stand whether this is what you really want to do with your life. Or whether you're just kidding yourself."
"An excellent suggestion," she said, "shall we switch seating now?"
"Let's do it now," I said.
I got off my recliner and went to the couch, laying down. She took my own seat, and leaned back.
"How does it feel?" I asked. "I mean... do you like the feeling?"
"It's really very exciting. Yes, I feel like a real, live psychologist. What do we do now?"
"Now you try and help me with my problem," I said. "Don't you want real practice? Let's see how well you do with a difficult problem."
"Okay, shoot," she said.
"Wrong phrase," I corrected, lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling. You've got to pick more delicate words with your parents. You don't say, 'Okay shoot.' You say, 'How are you feeling now?' or 'Just let yourself go. Don't hold back.' Something like that. Got it?"
"Mmmm hmmm, " she said.
"Oh, that's excellent," I said, "I like the way you use your Mmmm hmmm's."
She crossed her legs. "Tell me a little about your problem."
"Yes, well, it's very difficult to talk about it."
There was a long silence.
I continued. "Now, don't let the silences drag like that. Use the silences to make the patient feel more at ease. Remember, you're making a lot of money now... and you can't expect to let the patient feel comfortable paying you if you're not going to say anything. He wants something for his money."
"I see," she said. "Well... why is this so difficult to talk about? Please, feel comfortable with me. I'm trying to help."
"Good," I said, "Yes, well I have this problem with sex. Can't control these feelings. Every time I get with a female I want to make it with her. Do you think there's any hope for me?"
"Yes. That's why I'm seeing you."
"Well, when I came in today DOCTOR," I thought she'd enjoy that, "the only thing I had on my mind was fucking you. Fucking you."
"What?... " she said. She was alarmed.
"There now, Tina. You'll come across this all the time with patients. They always use dirty words. And they'll all want to make it with you. You've got to know how to handle yourself in these kinds of situations. Remember... everything goes in your office." I emphasized the word "your." I knew she liked that.
"Well," she sighed, "go on then. Why do you... want to fuck me. Doctor... are you sure it's all right for me to use those words?"
"Quite all right."
"Okay. Just curious. Now... why do you want to fuck me?"
"Well, doctor," I said, putting my hands through my hair, like this was really tough going... revealing all these feelings about myself, "It's your tits. I always had a thing for tits. Mom had big ones. And ever since I stopped sucking on mother's, I've had the desire to suck on everyone else's. Please doctor... can I suck on your tits?"
Pause. Then, "What do I do now?" she asked helplessly.
"Why, you let the patient do as he chooses. You can't worry about those things in here. Remember, everything goes."
"You're... not going to ask me to suck my tits... not really... are you?"
"You bet your horn-rimmed glasses I am. Do you want practice or don't you?"
"Yes, of course," she said.
"Fine."
I got up and came over to her. "Oh, doctor," I said, "please expose your breasts so I can suck on them. I'm so thirsty for them. I'm mad for them."
"I suppose I expose them?"
"Of course."
Tina undid her blouse. She didn't have a bra on. Wow.
"Oh, doctor. They're so beautiful. They hang there so pretty. Let me just suck quietly. I won't disturb you."
I sat on the edge of the recliner, and bending down put one of her breasts in my mouth. "Mmmmmmm" I said, "good." Her nipples jutted up in my mouth. Maybe she was better than Sophia. What tits.
"Ooooh," I said, "they're so good. But, now can I look at your snatch. Mother always let me look at hers when I asked."
"I suppose now I show you my... snatch."
"You're doing very well. Yes. You show it to me. Mustn't upset the patient by not giving him what he wants."
Tina undid her skirt and lowered it. In a moment, garter belt, hooks, hose, skirt and panties were off. Aaaah.
"Oooooh doctor, I'm so glad you're letting me see your snatch. I love to look at it. And I especially like the way your pussy hairs curl like that. Is it the dampness down there that makes the black hairs curl so nicely?"
"Now what do I say?"
"Answer any way you like."
"Yes. It must be the dampness down there," Tina said.
"Oh, yes. My my. When I touch it... it really is wet. Mommy always let me touch her when I asked. You don't mind... do you?"
"No."
"Oooh, and it's so much fun to stick my finger inside... like this. Oh doctor, this is such a good session. I think I'm becoming happy thanks to you."
"I'm glad for you," Tina said.
"I'm glad for me, too," I said, letting my finger get as far inside her as I possibly could. "And... can I eat you? I'd really like to do that. I can almost taste it now." I wasn't kidding, of course.
"I suppose I say okay."
"You say okay."
"Okay."
I ate her. Oh, sweet, fruity tasting wetness. I chewed away at her pussy. Sucked her lips and clit. Took little bites. Swallowed her yummy come.
"Yummy," I said.
"Now what do I do?" she asked.
"Ask me how I feel."
"How do you feel?"
"Great. Just great. But now doctor," I knew she loved the sound of that word. It filled her up with pride. As long as I called her doctor I could get away with anything. "Now, doctor, I want to shove it in. That is... if it's all right. Is it?"
"I say yes, I suppose."
"You say yes."
"Yes." Faster than a speeding bullet I had my clothes off, joining her in the nude. I climbed on top of her, with the recliner all the way back, and let my prick enter.
"Ask me how it feels."
"How does it feel?"
"Mmmmmm," I said. It was a bit awkward on the recliner -- I don't believe it was made for this purpose -- but I don't mind taking a little pain with my pleasure. My arm was twisted up under her back, but it didn't matter much. The important thing was my cock was happy. Couldn't be happier. It tunneled in and out faster and faster.
"What do I do now?" Tina asked, her body getting the assaulting of her life.
"You come."
* * *
My Wednesday four o'clock session was filled with a lovely Oriental gal. She was working at a few burlesque houses as a stripper and was making pretty good money. Her problem was that -- because she was Japanese-she felt she didn't belong. She thought everybody saw her as an outsider. She felt out of place with Americans. One day, she wanted to return to her home when she had save enough money. She made a lot... but she blew it all on clothes, and hairdo's... things like that... anything so she could feel accepted. But nothing seemed to work. She was unhappy. She felt like a stranger. She wanted me to help her feel accepted.
A thorny problem, perhaps. But a simple solution. Oh, I was getting masterful at solutions.
"Now, you say you feel different than everyone?" I asked her.
"Yes." Her lovely, slanted eyes made her a delicate catch. They sparkled when she spoke.
"What makes you feel so different?"
She tucked her legs under her skirt. "I don't know exactly. I suppose it's because I'm Japanese. I mean, people can tell right away. It's one reason I do burlesque shows. The lights are always low, so none of the guys really get a good look at my face. For all they know... I'm just a Brooklyn born girl showing it all."
"And do you show it all," I asked eagerly.
"All. Today, you've got to. They demand it."
"Mmmmm, hmmmmm. Yes. Well, it is a ticklish problem. But I think I can help."
"How, doctor. I don't want to have this problem any more. It makes everything so uncomfortable for me.
"Well, Suki," I wasn't sure if I pronounced it right, "What we've got to do here is prove to you that you're no different from every other person. No different than every other female."
"But I feel so different."
"Yes, that's your problem. But we can cure you here. It won't be difficult. The thing is to focus on where you're not different. Get to understand where you're like every other female."
"It seems reasonable."
"Of course it is. Now. Breasts. Do you have them?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Let me see."
"But you know I have them."
"I know. But I'm trying to prove to you that you're no different. Please, show me your breasts."
Suki flipped off her sweater and bra and held her chest out. Her tits were small, like little fruits, with a cherry popped up on top of each.
"Now, what's different about them?" I asked.
"Well, nothing, I suppose."
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. You have a vagina?"
"What a silly question."
"Show it to me."
"Why? I get paid for doing that."
"Well, I get paid for doing this. Because I'm helping you. Trying to have you see that you're no different at all. It's all in your sick, neurotic mind. Now, please show me your vagina."
The rest of the clothes came off. Sitting on the edge of the couch she turned slightly toward me, separating her legs, exposing a thin line of pussy hair and a crack just made for fucking.
"Now, what's different about that?" I asked, almost panting.
"I didn't say it was different. I said I feel different."
"Well, we're working with the basics here. You've shown me your breasts. Nothing different about them. You've shown me your vagina. Nothing different about that. But how about your reactions? Are they any different?"
"What do you mean, my reactions?"
"For example. Do your nipples harden when they are stroked by a man?"
"Why, yes." She was lovely, sitting there naked, with her legs crossed. The Orient produced some good stuff.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I'm sure."
"Show me."
"How?"
I got up and went over to the couch, sitting next to her. With my left hand I tweaked a nipple so it popped right up, "There now," I said, "nothing unusual about that. Is there?"
"Well, you can see you're really no different in built or reaction from other females. And obviously your problem is a make believe one."
"It's not make believe. I still feel different," she said.
I edged closer to her. Well, let's continue our little experiment, shall we? Let us see just what is different about you. How about your clitoris? Does it swell up when it's stroked?"
"I don't know. I guess so."
"You don't know?"
I reached for the mirror hanging over the couch and set it on its side against the couch.
"Come over here a minute... in front of the mirror. Let us find out about this reaction."
She came over, and sat on the carpet right in front of the mirror.
"Now spread your legs so you can see you own vagina. I'm going to stroke your clitoris, and you tell me if it swells up and gets erect. If it doesn't, you may have good reason for feeling different."
I sat to the side of her, so that both of us could be seen clearly in the mirror. I reached my hand over between her lovely little legs and placed a finger on her clit. I rolled it back and forth, with little squeezes. She parted her legs wider to make my motions easier.
"Can you see it?" I asked. "Is it getting swollen?"
"Yes. I think so. I never did this before. I mean... watch a man touch me in front of a mirror. I find it quite exciting."
"And that, too, is a natural reaction."
I shoved my thumb up her hole. It slid in gracefully without resistance. I wiggled it around inside of her.
"Normal reaction, there, too," I said. "You're wet... very wet... and that means that you certainly have no problem in that department." I wiggled my thumb faster. "It means that you're certainly no different in this area."
Her eyes were glued to the mirror. She was fascinated watching me play with her cunt. She leaned back on her elbows and spread her legs even wider.
"Now. For the last phase of the experiment."
"What's that?" she inquired. I knew she knew. "Intercourse. There are certain very specific reactions every woman is supposed to have. I'd be interested to know whether you have the same. If you do, then your problem is simply psychological, and that's the easiest kind of problem to deal with."
I removed my clothes as hastily as I could, then sat behind her, propping her cunt on my prick, so that we both sat facing the mirror.
"Oh, this is fun," she said.
"I'm not doing it for fun. This is business."
The Japanese do have style. The little thing swiveled her hips in tiny circular motions, forcing my prick deep into her. I suppose all those burlesque gyrations give a girl good practice for sex. Or is it the other way around? Faster and faster she rotated her hips. Together, we watched as my cock disappeared into her. I placed my hands around her tiny waist and bumped her up and down on top of me.
"Breathing," I said. "Yours is irregular. Short. That's quite normal."
"Oh, good," she said.
"Your cunt. Wet. Very normal."
"Oh, that's good, too."
"Your breasts. Fuller. Firmer. And the nipples are as hard as they can get."
"That's normal, too?" she said.
"Yes." And we continued sliding and sloshing quicker and quicker.
"Your skin. Damp with perspiration. An excellent sign. It means your body is accepting the sex act. Very normal."
"I'm pleased."
"Muscle tone," I said. I let my hands work over her tiny shoulders her little tits, her stomach, her legs. "Tense, yet relaxed,... that's a most natural kind of response."
"You think I'm normal, then?"
"Look at yourself in the mirror. You look excited. Your body is flipping and flopping like it's supposed to under these circumstances. Wouldn't you say that's normal?"
"Yes. I guess I would."
"Me too."
She had a little body but a big cunt. It ate up my whole hard cock without a problem. The kid moved like a dancer. It was a gas watching in the mirror. I guess I felt like a peeping torn, spying on someone else doing it. I squinted so I couldn't define myself that well. Yes, that was excellent. It was like I was watching another couple at it.
"Now. The last reaction. Let's test it out."
"And what's that?" she asked, still working the fire on my bone.
"Orgasm. Let's see how you do on that one."
"Oh, I'm good at that. That's a fun one."
The girl had a special timing mechanism. Fantastic. She could have her come the second she wanted it. Immediately, she thrust both legs apart and together, apart and together, and took a deep breath, like she was about to go diving in the water. Then she raised both hands in the air -- I don't know what she did this for, maybe a Japanese custom -- and then she came. Fast, tiny quivers all over her body. What control. It lasted for about five minutes.
"How did I respond?" she asked.
I was too busy myself to respond. To her question, that is. Her little body took an enormous quantity of my come. Jesus. I'd never done it with an Oriental before. For a moment, I thought of the possibility of setting up my practice in Okinawa. Just Japanese gals.
"So?" she repeated. "How was my response?"
"Perfectly normal," I said, slipping my cock from her hot hole. "Perfectly normal. Now, we know for sure that there is nothing different about you at all."
"What about my eyes?" she asked, still staring at herself in the mirror, "they're a dead give away. What I do about them?"
"Oh, you'd have to see a plastic surgeon about that," I said, "that's not the line I'm in. But our time's up. We'll talk about it next week."
My Friday hour -- four o'clock to allow me extra time if I needed it -- was a masseuse. A big, beautiful black gal who had a parlor in Midtown Manhattan. She charged almost as much as I did -- twenty-five an hour. But she explained to me that everything was on the up and up. No hanky-panky. No fooling around with the customers. If they wanted more... "Ah'd kick their asses out," she said. All male clientele. A towel was required. She said she had a large sign with bold letters over her massage table. It read: "NO BALL TOUCHING HERE NO COCK TOUCHING HERE NO TOUCHING ME HERE" Those were the rules. And heartbreaking rules at that, because Sarah was a traffic stopper. Her ass danced. Her tits swung. And her face was round and soft... the kind you like to look at when your coming. But no touchy. House rules.
If a guy's towel started climbing up, it was his problem. It always happened, she said. But she ignored it.
"If they's so damn horny, they can jerk off when I's through," she said.
Her problem was simple. She was a Lesbian. Men didn't do a thing for her. As a matter of fact, they disgusted her. She lived with another woman, but the two of them argued furiously. In fact, Sarah argued with everybody. She had a sharp tongue and a mean vocabulary, and used them freely.
"You gonna tell me how to get some happiness out a life?" she demanded.
"I'm not in the habit of making guarantees with my patients."
"Don't give me no jive. I ain't blowin' no money for a lot of bull! Ah' works too hard for my dough. Workin' on men all day. Listen! You gonna get me some happiness or ain't you?"
She was a live one. Every time she said something her tits bobbled around under her sweater.
"A psychiatrist doesn't give his patients happiness. He guides them, so they can find it themselves."
"More jive talk! You gonna help me or not?" Her big, gorgeous eyes shot over at me.
"I'll certainly try."
"Well, let's get on with it. What you gonna do for me?"
"Let's start with your problem."
"I ain't got no problem. I's just unhappy."
"You like women don't you?"
"That's ain't no problem. It's a gas, baby. You been with women, ain't you, Doc? You know what a time you have have with a chick!"
"Did you ever make it with a man?" I asked.
"Yeh. Two guys made it with me. Ah didn't want it, though. They took me by force. One of my customers and one a' his friends. He wanted me to give him a blow job, and I pointed to the sign. He got angry. When I's through workin', him and his friend grab me, takes me in their car. They drived me somewhere out in the country and did me in the back seat. First one. Then the other. Other than that, I never made it with no man. Don't need that kind of action."
"You know why you don't like men, don't you?"
"Ah' don't know and I don't care. I just want a little happiness."
"The way to get happiness is to know why you don't like men."
"More jive talk. You gonna get me some happiness or ain't you?"
I was hoping I could grab a little myself. But this beauty was tough. Her nipples stuck out hard from her sweater. I was encouraged.
"I'll tell you why you don't like men. You're afraid of them. It's a psychological fact."
"Bull! I ain't afraid of no man. I ain't afraid of nothin'. When I was a kid... I liked the dark. Ah'll walk through any park, any time o' night. I can take of myself. I ain't afraid of no man." She scratched her left breast. I was jealous.
"You're pretending," I said, trying to work her up, "deep down inside, you're really afraid of men. You talk of strength is just a big put on. You're afraid of men. And that means, of course, you're afraid of me."
"Sure... "
"I scare you."
"Jive talk,"
"You're afraid of me."
"Bull!"
"Let's find out."
"What?"' Putting the patient to. a test. It always worries them. Seems to take a little fire out of them.
"A test."
"What you talking about?"
"I can prove to you that you're afraid of men."
"More jive."
"Give me a massage, then," I said.
"You're off your nut, she said, and she looked at me peculiarly. "Give you a massage? Christ. I charge twenty-five dollars for that. You charge thirty for this stuff. The way I figures it, I gives you a massage you gets five dollars for this session. And anyway, I ain't givin' you no massage. I ain't workin' now."
"You're afraid to." She hated that word, "afraid."
"I ain't afraid of nothin'."
"You're afraid to give me a massage."
"Get on this couch and lie down. I ain't afraid of nothing."
"Coming."
"What you doing?"
"Taking my clothes off. You're not going to give me a massage with my clothes on, are you?"
"I heard about doctors like you."
"Afraid."
"Bull. Take 'em off."
I already had. I was setting new records for disrobing with all the practice I was getting. "Get a towel."
"I haven't got a towel. I'll use this red throw pillow."
Sarah got up and I got down. I sprawled out on my stomach and put the throw pillow on top of my ass.
"Let's see how you do it, Sarah. Maybe we can find out what you're afraid of."
"Afraid! Come off it!"
Sarah stood over me, and leaning down, dug her long, fingers into my shoulders.
"That's how I do it," she said.
She worked my neck and shoulder muscles back and forth. My rear-end had to lift slightly to make room for my growing cock. Then she worked on my back. Kneading her fingers in, deep. She pushed and pulled. Squeezed. She was hurting me. But she was exciting me. There was no sign over my couch that forbade anything.
"Ow."
"That's how I do it."
She started on the tops of my legs, just under my ass, completely ignoring the danger zone.
"Very interesting," I said.
"What you talking about?" She was pounding my calves with the sides of her hands.
"The way you missed my ass. You avoided it. Because you're afraid to touch me there."
"Come off it! You know the rules."
"We're not in your massage parlor. You're giving excuses. You're afraid."
"Bull!"
She almost took the wind out of me. She threw the throw pillow down and grabbed both of my asscheeks. Her fingers worked hard, dug deep. My prick was on fire. Twenty-five dollars an hour seemed reasonable for what she did. She massaged my ass up and down. That, of course, caused my cock to go up and down. Against the velvet couch, that was delicious. I was fucking my velvet couch! And I thought I had tried everything.
"Hey. When do I get to turn over?"
"You sure you're really a doctor?"
"You're afraid."
"I ain't afraid of nothing. Turn over."
It stood straight up. So hard, it quivered slightly back and forth. The fluid was just dying to come out.
"What you trying to prove? Listen. No ball touching. No cock touching. No touching me." And she started working on my chest and stomach, avoiding my better regions. Her hands skipped from my stomach to my thighs.
"Very interesting," I said.
"You starting that crap again?"
"You're afraid."
I don't know what it was about that word, but it worked wonders with Sarah. She took a firm grip on my hard cock and started jerking me off. But after a few seconds, she stopped. Damnit.
"Christ: You jerk yourself off. I ain't no whore. And I told you, I don't like men. You know what that thing of yours reminds me of? I mean, no crap. You wanna know?"
"Tell me."
"It reminds me of my old man's thing. He used to whip it out and make me suck on it. That was before he took off and left ma with me and the kids. It looks just like my old man's."
"Is that why you're afraid of it?" My prick was still straight up, quivering, waiting.
"I ain't afraid of it. It just turns me off. That's all. Now pussy... well, there's something really exciting. You know what I mean?" She want back to my legs, kneading arid massaging.
"It'll do you good to touch it."
"Don't give me that stuff!"
"I'm not kidding."
"Well I ain't touching. No ball touching. NQ cock touching. No touching me. You know the rules."
Sometimes, we psychiatrists have our problems, too. But problems always have solutions.
"How old are you, Sarah?" While she worked on my legs I toyed with my prick. Christ, I wasn't going to let it just stand there without any attention.
"Twenty-five."
"Tsk Tsk Tsk."
"What the hell you tsking? What the hell's wrong with twenty-five?" Her hands were superb.
"I was just thinking... that leaves you forty-two years."
Now she stopped touching me entirely. She stood straight up and looked down at me with her hands on her hips. Her big tits loomed above me.
"What's this jive?" she demanded.
"Forty-two years. You know, the average life expectancy of a woman is sixty-seven. So on that basis, that leaves you forty-two years of misery. Forty-two years without happiness." My hand still played with my prick.
"What you talking about?" She was noticeably upset.
"Tsk. Awful. I mean... a year, or let's say even two years of misery. That's bad. But forty-two years of it... whew." I. expelled some breath. "Don't you realize if you don't touch me -- where you're afraid to -- you'll spend the next forty-two years in misery? You said you wanted to get some happiness. But how can you be happy as long as you're afraid of men's things? How can you be happy if you don't fight this fear. Now. Before it's too late. You're a tough woman Sarah. You got lots of strength. I felt it the minute you walked in. And I knew... that whatever your problem was you'd have the guts to fight it, Sarah. Because you're not afraid of anything. Except this," I would have pointed, but my hand was already there. "And I know you can fight this fear... because I don't want you to be unhappy. And you don't want to be unhappy. One blow job Sarah... just one... how long can it take? A minute? Two minutes? Five? Ten at the most? Ten minutes of that... for forty-two years of happiness. Sarah... you're on the verge. Don't blow it now."
"I thought you wanted me to blow it."
"I do. I do."
Sarah did. Her father gave her good practice. Her thick lips wrapped around my cock and slid up and down. Softest lips I ever had. Worked my cock into an absolute frenzy. I knew she could do it. As she sucked me, I said, "Forty-two years. Happiness. Good for you, Sarah." Sarah was sucking her way to happiness. I reached up and grabbed her sweater where her tit was. She started to move away.
"Fight it, Sarah. Fight this fear. You're not afraid to. Forty-two years of happiness."
She lifted her head up from my cock and looked at me.
"You're not putting me on? Forty-two years of happiness?"
"Forty-two."
Her head turned back to me. Faster and juicier than ever she sucked. I somehow managed to get her sweater past her big tits, and while she sucked I squeezed her luscious black breasts.
"Pants," I said, "Forty-two years."
One hand holding my cock. With the other she got her skirt and panties off. Black skin. Black bush. Black beauty.
"Sixty-nine," I said.
"I thought you said forty-two."
"Do sixty-nine with me, Sarah. Flip your legs up here. We'll do each other. Maybe we can both have forty-two years of happiness."
"How old are your' she asked.
"Never mind."
She swung her meaty body around so she lay across me on the couch, her leg spread around my head. I got my tongue into her hole and was surprised to find she was dripping wet. Holding on to her big, round asscheeks I wiggled my tongue into her cunt, as deep as it could go. While she still sucked away at my cock, her pelvis shoved hard into my face, quicker and quicker. Her big tits bounced against my stomach. My whole mouth was sopping from her white goo. She was working hard at happiness. Faster and faster she crashed against my face and body. I let my tongue ride up to her asshole and back to her cunt, back and forth, back and forth. It drove her mad. She sucked away at me and her hands, from professional habit, massaged my legs. The couch had started a noisy squeaking, which got louder and louder as we bumped our bodies against each other. Just as I was about to come in her wonderful mouth, I reached my hands out and grabbed a tit for each. In rhythm to the spurts, I alternately pressed and squeezed each tit.
At the same moment, Sarah reached her zenith. Flopping around on top of me, she let out what sounded like a war cry, and in one huge, thirty second quiver, she came.
From the other end, I heard Sarah say, "That wasn't bad. But I got me forty-two years of it. Ain't that something?"
I struggled to swivel her legs off me.
"Almost. But not quite," I said. "I've got to put it in you. Then... then you get forty-two years."
"Christ!"
"Long time Sarah. All those years."
"How do you want it?"
I took it as I found it. On the couch. But I rolled her down on her back first. I wanted to suck on those titties when I put it in. I mounted her and got my lips on one big, dark nipple.
"I've got to play a little first," I said, "need just a little time to get it up there."
"Christ!"
I flicked her nipple back and forth, till it hardened. Then I worked on her other nipple, till it hardened. Then I pulled both her breasts close together with both hands, so her nipples were about an inch apart. I put them both in my mouth and sucked, nibbled, bit. It didn't take long for my cock to start growing again. And her pelvis began a slow rocking motion that tickled my cock up even harder. After about ten minutes of sucking on her cushion soft tits, my cock was again ready. There was no trouble entering her wide, wet cunt. Her pelvis rose to meet my cock, and her cuntlips felt like they were sucking my cock in. I tried to give her all the years she had missed. I drove it in her as hard as I could, and she worked just as hard pushing against me. I had my arms around her, and her boobies flopped around under my chest.
"Forty-two years," I whispered.
Our bodies met and separated. Together, apart. Together, apart. My cock slid back and forth in her hot, wet hole. I couldn't stop now. I lost control of my body as my juices shot into her. I clutched tightly to her asscheeks, and grabbed a nipple in my mouth. I felt like I had spent every ounce of fluid in my body. "Listen... we done, now? I ain't gonna come again. I gotta save myself up for Lizabeth when I get home. We done now? I got my forty-two years?"
"You got it."
* * *
That was my first and last session with Sarah. There was no way I could convince her to come back the following week. She got her forty-two years and she was happy. I tried convincing her that if she came back next Friday, I'd see what I could do about extending it to fifty. But she was satisfied.
So that meant I still had my Friday's open. I replaced my ad in the papers, and after a few days of screening, had myself another goodie.
The gal's name was Nancy, and she had money coming out of the pores of her skin. When I had first screened her, the weather was warm, but she came in a white mink coat. The rich ones have to show it off 365 days a year. She probably had a mink fox box.
Nancy never worked a day in her life. And she never had to. Her father owned Texas oil wells, and gave her all the money she wanted. Nancy lived alone in a huge $1000 a month penthouse, lavishly furnished with anything and everything money could buy. She had only one problem. She was bored, bored, bored with life. She'd bought everything, been everywhere, done all. For her -- with all her money -- life was nothing more than a series of days, one after the other, each as boring as the last.
I found her body anything but boring. When she came in that first Friday, she wore a purple, velvet pants suit, with small, silver sequins. For all I cared she could have worn a burlap bag, because there was just no way to hide the perfection of her body. Her tits were firm and high. Her asscheeks were like two perfect circles. She wore makeup and mascara like an actress, but through it all, you could see how beautiful she was. Like Elizabeth Taylor in her prime. Two, long diamond ear-rings swung and sparkled from her ears. She puffed away mercilessly at a long, gold cigarette holder, without cigarette.
She sat on the couch with her back straight, and crossed her legs. She flicked an imaginary ash from her cigarette holder. I would have loved to flick one of her very real nipples.
"So that's it, I'm bored," she yawned. "Nothing interests me anymore. Do you mind if I lie down? I'm so very tired. I'm always tired." She yawned again and swung that heavenly body flat on the couch. Like twin points, her tits popped up.
"Don't you do anything? Go out, read, travel anything?"
She yawned again. A big, wide one that told me my cock could comfortably fit there.
"Not anymore. I've been all over the world. But it just tires me out now. I used to do a lot of things, but now they're all so utterly monotonous. So I usually sleep till about one or two o'clock in the afternoon, take a long bath, nibble on something, and go back to bed. I mean, what is there to do?" Another wonderful yawn.
I kept the obvious answer to myself. What I couldn't keep to myself was the activity down in my pants. It was sticking out. I covered it by folding my hands on my lap. I must have looked like a good boy sitting there like that. Waiting for my cookies.
"How do you feel about your parents?" I asked.
"They're pretty boring."
"What about your childhood."
"Boring, too."
"Sex?"
"Boring."
"Sex? Boring? Why do you say that?' She puffed quietly away on her cigarette holder. "Sex is like everything else. I've done too much of it. But it's sheer monotony for me now."' She scratched an itch on the inside of her thigh. It meant, at least, that She was capable of feeling something down there. "With sex. I've done everything there is to do."
"Everything?"
"Oh, sure."
"With women?"
"Done it."
"With yourself?"
"Too much."
"With a lot of people?"
"Too many."
"Vibrators? Dildos? Bananas?"
"Even asparagus."
"You've done it with asparagus?"
"Even a pork chop."
This girl was too much -- if she wasn't lying. But I persisted. I figured I'd find something she hadn't done. My prick demanded I hurry.
"Incest?"
"Both brothers. Used to be all the time."
"With your... parents?"
"Occasionally."
"How 'bout animals, eh?"
"Dogs are the best."
"How about with doctors?"
"My first gynecologist."
"I guess you've done... everything there is to do with sex?"
"I guess so."
"Then I suppose you must know about Turjin."
"What?"
"Turjin. You must know about him."
"I never heard of him."
"Never heard of Turjin? The persian?"
"Turjin the Persian?" She screwed her face up. I couldn't blame her. I had made up a pretty silly name. But it was too late to change it. I got up from my seat, and walked over to my bookcase.
"Sure. He's the guy with all those radical ideas about sex."
I pulled out a large book at random, and covering the title with my hand, returned to my recliner.
"Turjin the Persian... he wrote a book called What to Do When You're bored with Sex. A Radical Approach. I opened the volume and started paging through it as though I were looking for a specific page. What I had turned to was page 334, and I noted in the upper left hand column that on December 3, 1940, Kansas had 34% more rainfall than the average median of the country. It was a World Almanac I had selected, but she had no way of knowing. As far as she was concerned -- or at least I hoped -- I had the answer to her boring problems with sex.
"What kind of radical ideas?" She was definitely interested.
"Suggestions. Ways to increase sexual excitement. But very unusual. Many people in this country think his ideas are silly. Like his name. But a clinical survey had just been done. And the conclusion is that the man is no phoney. His ideas really work. My guess is that in a matter of years -- as more and more people try out his ideas -- he'll be recognized for what he is. A brilliant sexologist. And a wonderful human being. Because his methods have helped hundreds and hundreds of people... who have your kind of problem. Boredom with sex. At first, his ideas seem a little crazy -- because we're not used to his methods -- but once they're tried, they're always successful."
"What suggestions?" I heard some impatience in her voice. Good.
"You want me to be specific? Just because Turjin's ideas have helped 100% of the people who have tried his methods... isn't a guarantee for you, Nancy. You may be the 1%. The exception to the rule. Nancy, it's possible you'd be the first person who Turjin wouldn't be successful with."
"What suggestions?" she demanded.
"Well, I can't just tell them to you."
"What do you mean?" She puffed faster on her cigarette holder.
"Well, his entire first chapter deals with how his methods should be tried. He says, first of all, that the moment his suggestions are heard -- the very moment -- that is when they are to be tried. His theory is that if you live with the idea too long, before performing it, boredom sets in. In other words, Nancy, if I give you some of his suggestions, you must try them out right here, immediately. Otherwise, he points out, the suggestions will go stale."
"You mean with you?"
"The nearest convenient male, is the way he phrases it. He's a strong believer in keeping sex on an impersonal level. He's very radical for our times."
"Let's try a couple of suggestions," she said, with a small smirk on her face. I didn't know she had so much play in her, but I wasn't going to fight it.
"You're sure you want to?"
She was becoming more eager by the second. Her eyes lit up.
"Sure am. If it's new."
"Oh, but these are really strange ideas. In the first chapter he says that you mustn't feel that the suggestions are silly or they will not work."
"Okay. Let's hear one." She put her hands under her rear-end to sit on them. Then she looked at me cocking her beautiful head slightly, keeping the small smile on her face. She really couldn't wait.
"Ready for the first suggestion? I'll read it if you want."
"I want."
"I'll pick -- here -- suggestion #17. Is that all right?"
"Any number."
"Now remember. You must do everything he says, without question. Immediately."
"I've got the rules."
"Okay. Here goes. Here's Suggestion #17... by the way, Suggestions #1 through #20 are what he calls 'preliminary exercises to warm up by.'"
"Okay. What is it?"
"Suggestion #17. You must first get a pen... " I offered her mine, "and then remove any clothing surrounding the breasts... " This Nancy did quickly, undoing the buttons on her top, removing it, then unhooking her bra and letting it fall. Something else fell, too. A gorgeous pair of knockers, with two wide nipples that stood up straight. "Then draw a circle around each nipple... " This she did carefully, and when she finished her nipples looked like two eyes staring at me. "Then jump up and down so your breasts dance... " Nancy started jumping. And her breasts danced. Up and down her gorgeous boobs bounced. If I wasn't so fuckin' horny, I might have found this amusing. "Then, while still jumping, slip your hands in your pants and scratch your pubic hairs... " Nancy slid her hands where I wanted to, and continued jumping. If anything, she couldn't be bored. "Then hum a favorite melody... " I couldn't pick out the tune she chose. But then I was focused on this beauty jumping up and down for me, swinging those wild tits about. "Then, keeping your hands in your pants, stop jumping... " Nancy stopped jumping; just stood there breathing hard, with her breasts rising up and down, and her hands still playing down in her crotch. It was another occasion when I was sorry I didn't have my Polaroid with me. "Then sit down and take a five minute breather to prepare for #18."
Nancy sat down and looked at me with a grin.
"I don't believe it," she said, still breathing hard from the exercise, "that was really fun. I mean it wasn't boring or anything. How long do we have to wait for suggestion #18?"
I looked at. my watch. "Four minutes, twenty seconds," I said matter-of-factly.
"Time goes so slow," Nancy said, her milky white breasts hanging sweetly from her chest.
"Four minutes to go."
"I can't stand the wait."
"Three minutes."
"Is your watch slow?"
"Two minutes more," I said. I was more impatient than her. But I needed the time to think of the next suggestion.
"This is such fun."
"One minute."
"Now?"
I paused five seconds.
"Now!" Nancy's eyes popped wide with interest. "Suggestion #18. Okay, Nancy. Remove every remaining stitch of clothing so you are completely naked... " Nancy removed her shoes, slipped out of her slacks and panties. There it was. That beautiful, bored pussy of hers. Wrapped and cradled in small brown curls. Her shapely legs curved down beautifully from a pair of small, bony hips. "Then have the nearest available male... there's that phrase, Nancy... have the nearest available male put one toe as deep as possible in the vagina... " Holding the book with one hand, and making like I was studying it intently, with the other hand I removed my loafers and socks and Nancy brought her little body by my recliner. Leaning back, I held my left foot up and Nancy moved into it, so that my big toe was directed straight into her slit. I was delighted at the wetness Turjin had created. "Then whistle .:. anything." Nancy performed this task poorly, because only a few notes came out. But she kept trying as I wriggled my toe back and forth inside her wet slit. "Then caress the ankle of the foot of the inserted toe... " This Nancy did with a soft, brushing stroke. "Then roll your hips from left to right as the sun rises and falls." Nancy started a circular motion with her lovely hips, with my big toe still wriggling around in her hot cunt. "Then gently pull away from the toe so you free your vagina... " Nancy moved back so my toe slipped out. "Then place the penis of the man into your left ear and listen carefully... " I assisted this one by unzipping my pants and pulling out my erect organ. Nancy clasped it hard and bent down, sticking it in her ear. "Then keep listening... " If she heard anything it was the boiling of my cock juices. I had never had it in an ear before. As she leaned over her breasts hung sweetly over my leg, with the circular ink marks still around her nipples. "Then pull hard on your left nipple." Nancy pulled it, as her ear rested on my prick. "Then pull the right nipple in the same manner... " Nancy did that too, tugging at her own firm nipple. "Then move your head down and lightly place a testicle in your mouth and hum to make a vibration... " With my one free hand -- I was still "reading" from the book with my other -- I got my pants down. Nancy brought her head down, and I spread my legs to accommodate this portion of the exercise. Gently one ball went into her soft mouth, and she hummed. It sent shivers through my entire body, and kept my prick standing stiffly. "Then the other ball... " She switched balls flawlessly. "Hum" Again those wonderful vibrations. "Then place twenty-nine little wet kisses on the tip of the penis... " Nancy slid her mouth up to the top of my cock without removing her mouth at all. Smack. Smack. Twenty-nine love kisses -- and little drops were forming on the top of my cock. "Then suck on his belly button." Nancy put her hot lips on my belly and sucked. My hard prick was pushing against her long neck. "Then suck hard on his nipples... " I got my shirt off fast, and her lips sucked my own nipples up in size; first she did one, then the other. "Then take a five minute breather by sitting on the floor and meditating about how exciting #20 will be."
Nancy sat on the floor cross legged in front of me. She shut her eyes and lowered her head. In meditation. I looked down at the soft, exquisite body below me and wondered what the most exciting thing I could do to her was. Her little shoulders moved slightly with her breathing, and from either side of her, just below her arms, I could see the full fleshy swell of tits dangling down.
"Four minutes to go," I said. Christ. I didn't want to get fancy with her. I just wanted a good fuck. But I figured I'd throw in a few silly items to make it interesting.
"Three minutes," I said. Have her bite her nails while we do it? No.
"Two minutes left." Maybe I could have her do bird calls while I do her.
"One minute more." The Lord's Prayer, maybe.
"Okay, Nancy. Ready?"
She lifted her pretty head, and with an excited gleam in her eye, she nodded quickly.
I looked deep into the pages of The World Almanac. California had the second greatest rainfall, next to Kansas, on December 3, 1940.
"Suggestion #20. Here's the big one," I said.
"Can't wait." Her nipples stared up at me, from below.
"Okay. Suggestion #20. Lay on your back on the floor... " Nancy bent back from the waist and lay down. Her mound of pubic hair rose about two inches off her pussy. Her breasts flattened out, but her nipples stuck up hard. "Then put your thumb in your mouth and suck on it like a baby... " Nancy put her thumb in and sucked on it. A woman's body and a baby's gesture. It excited me so much, I thought I'd shoot out right there, in my recliner. "Then lift the legs in the air, separating them wide apart, and let them dangle from the knee... " She followed instructions beautifully. Her legs went up and apart and her pink cunt was exposed open to me, as well as her asshole. "Then with two fingers of the hand not being used to suck your thumb, pry apart as far as possible the vagina lips to allow the nearest available male easy entry... " Nancy again did as instructed, separating her pink lips even farther apart, exposing to me the very hot roots of her being -- still sucking on her thumb. I tossed the Almanac aside and lowered myself off the recliner to meet her hot welcome. Letting both of her legs rest on my shoulders, I got on my knees and tilted my hard tool to her hole. With a terrific lunge, I charged my prick deep into her. Her hole was hot and roomy, and I slid my prick back and forth hard, making her tits shake around. Still, she continued sucking her thumb, and as I worked my engine into her at a greater speed, she increased the speed that she sucked on her thumb. Her cuntlips clamped hard on my cock, pulling it in, easing up, pulling it in. The faster I fucked the faster she sucked.
"Boring?" I asked, thrusting into her harder and harder.
She shook her head, thumb still in mouth. She was loving it. Her flesh rippled and quivered as I dug my member into her fiery cunt. At illegal speeds we raced. Her ass pounded against my thighs as I took the thumb sucking beauty. Turjin the Persian would have been proud of Nancy's progress. Her body heaved and rolled at a tremendous rate as I pummeled her quicker and quicker. The rich bitch was coming. With her thumb still in her mouth, she squeezed her eyes tight, her tits jumped around, she momentarily stopped sucking -- then let the huge orgasm over take her, quiver by quiver. My cock could not resist this luscious sight, and it forced out my hot come. The liquid gushed out of my cannon in thick spurts, about ten powerful spurts, till there was nothing left but exhaustion.
Nancy opened her bright eyes and removed the thumb from her mouth as I slipped my happy cock out of her cunt. She sighed deeply and smiled.
"It really wasn't boring at all. I don't believe it. I wasn't bored."
"Wait till next week, then. Suggestion #21 is a real dilly!"
CHAPTER FIVE
For the next couple of months, my cock was absolutely reeling. I pummeled more pussy, and tasted more tit than ethics allowed. But ethics weren't on my mind. All I could think of was sex. During my nonfucking hours, I dreamed up new, varied methods of seduction with each of my delicious patients. The peculiar thing was... my methods were actually helping my patients! I even had fantasies of standing before my colleagues delivering my unorthodox approach: "Gentlemen. Consider. How many years... how may long years it's necessary to keep a patient, in analysis! Gentlemen, I am convinced our analytic methods are outmoded. Its time to look... no, not back to Freud... but ahead to tomorrow. I have found a method that many of you would consider unethical. Yes, unethical. But the truth is... my courageous methods have succeeded. I have had 100% success. My method? Sex. Do I hear a murmur in the audience? Gentlemen... please... open your minds. Sex is the cure-all method. Feel a patient today. Let them experience sex. Give them orgasms. And gentlemen... not only will it speed up the process of analysis; but gentlemen, it's fun. And I say it's high time we had a little fun in our profession.
The applause rang in my ears. I envisioned myself on the cover of Life, Look, Time, Screw. People would stop me on the street, begging for my autograph. Lovelies would approach me anywhere, everywhere, demanding I give them an orgasm. I was a hero. A savior.
But I knew it was fantasy. The real truth was, if I let out any of the things I was doing in my office, I'd be thrown out of the medical profession, Sued. Maybe imprisoned. It was a chilling thought -- especially since I had devoted so many years to becoming a psychiatrist. But it all happened so fast... I was into the whole thing so quickly; that I knew I couldn't get out of it. And I didn't want to stop. Each day brought me new, delicious sexual experiences. I was growing accustomed to fucking my patients. It's hard giving up a habit like that.
So every time I had any guilt feelings -- or -- concern about what might happen to me -- I pushed the feelings aside. And kept my concentration focused on what a delightful time I was having. Additionally, I had actually convinced myself that what I was doing to my patients was good for them; was making them healthier and happier.
Jeannette, for example. Her shyness had practically disappeared. Now, she came into my office almost proudly. In fact, at the last session, she seduced me. Wonderful progress.
Dorothy, the model, was coming along beautifully. She loved to replay all the disgusting things that had happened to her in her past. She was becoming so much more aware of how much she enjoyed sex. She would come to my office, remove all her clothing and say, "I've got a real dirty scene we can play together." Oh, she was doing so well.
Tina -- the young Sophia Loren -- was now convinced she wanted to become a psychologist. And I couldn't blame her. If being a psychologist was as much fun as I told her it was, nobody would pick another profession. She continued to sit in my recliner and play the role of doctor. And I continued to play the role of patient -- each time making like I was a different kind of sexual pervert. She was studying harder than ever.
My Japanese beauty, Suki, had changed her mind about wanting to return to the Orient. I was doing such a delicious job of convincing her that she was like every other woman. And I went to the most ridiculous -- but exciting -- extremes to prove it. Her responses were super normal.
Nancy, the rich bitch, was rapidly overcoming her problem of boredom. Using the wisdom of Turjin the Persian... she managed to find wild new unheard of sexual experiences to indulge in. As did I. But, of course, I would have continued to see her, even if she were cured. Seventy-five dollars a session was nothing to sneeze at, and I liked the extra pocket change.
Alice and I, of course, continued our little orgies with Ginger and John. We had opened up a whole new world to them, and they were grateful to us.
And, naturally, Alice and I continued our own delightful experiments with sex. We had recently found new and wonderful ways to use an electric toothbrush. With toothpaste. There was just no end to our variety.
But that Friday evening -- I had just finished performing Turjin the Persian's 34th Suggestion -- I became suddenly depressed. For months this thing -- this overwhelming desire for sex -- had taken hold of me. And yet, I hadn't told Alice. The longer I waited to tell her about it, the harder it became. It was the only secret I kept from Alice. But that one secret made me tense and uncomfortable around her. That secret was a violation of the honesty she and I always had. And I was convinced, that Friday, that if I didn't tell her soon, something terrible would happen to our marriage. The problem was, I was also convinced that if I did tell her -- something terrible might still happen to our marriage.
She knew the struggle I had gone through to become a psychiatrist. She would be horrified at how I was throwing it all away. But worse than that -- much worse -- I was terrified of what she would think of me. Fucking my patients! She would probably be enraged with jealousy. She would probably think she was living with a mad man. She would probably be right.
I did feel I was going crazy. Because of the way these feelings overwhelmed me... and directed me. Because my only concern was that someone else should find out about what I was doing. But for myself, I had no scruples. No morals. And it didn't bother me. It drove me wild with pleasure. I was becoming someone else, a pure case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. When my special patients entered, I wasn't the reputable doctor I used to be. I could feel my fangs projecting out of my mouth. I could feel chunks of ugly black hair growing all over my body. I felt like a lusting animal. A whole new person. I had no doubts about it. I was going crazy. And loving every minute of it.
I made the decision to tell Alice. I had to get it off my chest. In spite of the consequences, I'd have to tell her. It was the only way I could live with myself.
But I needed courage. I stopped in a nearby bar and ordered a martini. Sitting at the bar, next to me, was a window washer in coveralls. All of his cleaning equipment hung from a wide belt he wore around his waist. He was young, twentyish, and Puerto Rican. He had black curly hair and a greasy, pockmarked face. He smelled bad of perspiration, so I started to rise to move over one seat, but he put his hand on my arm.
"Hey. Meester. You want action?"
Now, if I had been approached like that just three months ago, I would have ignored the man. Moved away and forgotten about it. But I was somebody different. His very words made my heart race. There was something in his tone of voice that told me he had something exciting. In spite of the fact that I had just laid Nancy against my office wall some twenty minutes ago, I was interested. I turned my eyes to my glass and sat back down.
"What kind of... action?"
"There's this cunt... see... " -- he smelled of bourbon -- "and I can get you to see her eef you want. She's different, man. Real different. You'll love her." He burped.
I kept my eyes from him, not wanting to appear as interested as I really was.
"What makes her different?"
"Holy shit, man... you kidding? She's no ordinary prostitute. She's something special. You think I'd piss away seventy-five dollars on some dumb cunt? That's a fortune to me, man... but this cunt's worth it. I just seen her. Holy shit. She's a special cunt, man."
"What makes her so special?" Now I looked into his greasy face. He was ugly.
"Listen. I wouldn't give you no bum steer. I just been with her, see? You got seventy-five dollars? Find out yourself. I wouldn't piss away that much money if she wasn't some special cunt. I'll be a good friend of yours. I'll give you her phone number. She lives near here. Call her and make an appointment. She's some special cunt, man. An' if you don't believe me... ask Phil the bartender. He'll tell you. He's the guy who got me to see her."
Phil, a big burly balding man was inches from our conversation. He was wiping a glass. I wonder what else bartenders do.
"Jose's right, mister. She's a special cunt, all right. Been with her twice myself. Real special," Phil said.
I was convinced. I wanted to be convinced. I excused myself so I could call my wife. I phoned Alice and told her I'd be late. Had to visit one of my patients in Jersey who was having a breakdown. Another lie to Alice. I knew things would get bad. But I tried to dismiss the thought. Tonight, I was going to have a ball. I returned to my stool.
"Okay. What's her number?"
The bartender took a napkin from the bar and wrote down a number. Then he handed it to me.
"Real special, mister. Like to do favors for my customers. She's a real special cunt."
Then I looked at the number. 986-0040. I think my heart literally stopped. The blood drained away from my face. I felt cold chills, and started to tremble.
"Are you sure... this is the number?"
"986-0040," said Phil, "I got a good memory for things I don't want to forget. And mister, I don't want to forget this one. Real special cunt."
986-0040. It was my number. I couldn't believe it. I held the napkin close up to Phil's face.
"Here... are you positive this is the number? I mean, maybe it's 886... or 786... maybe your pencil slipped."
"No mistake. Call her yourself. But you better wait till after the weekend: She only works Mondays and Wednesdays. And she says no calls after five o'clock."
I sat there dazed. It was too incredible to believe. My wife... a prostitute? A special cunt? And I was concerned about telling Alice my problem? I wasn't sure exactly how I felt. But I did have trouble believing it. I ordered another martini. And another. Jose kept yakking away to me about what a special cunt Alice was, but I just kept staring into my glass. Finally, I screwed up some courage to ask a few questions.
"Hey, Jose. Is this cunt... uh... popular? I mean... a lot of guys see her? More than just one or two?"
Jose laughed, exposing his yellow teeth.
"Sure. Lots of guys. I don't know all of them. How could I? But there's me... and Phil... and Enrico, he's my older brother. I don't know. Off and on I hear guys talking about her. I guess maybe she's had the whole city up there."
"What's her name?"
"I don't know. I call her cunt. To her face, you know. She says she really likes that."
"Let me have another martini."
"You gonna see her?"
"Sure. If you tell me what's so special about her."
"Shit, man. You gotta pay to find out. But take my word. She's some cunt. You pay. You'll see."
Jose gave me another broad, yellow toothed grin.
"Okay," I said, "I'll pay and find out myself."
I called Alice back. I had to hold my hand to keep from shaking when I dialed. I tried to sound like my usual self.
"Patient's okay, Alice. Coming home." I hung up quickly.
As horrified as I was, another thought struck me. If I could catch Alice -- in the act -- of doing whatever she did that made her so special; then I'd have no problem telling her about what was going on with me. After all, can a prostitute get angry at a pervert? As disgusting as this whole discovery was, it would make my painful confession easy. So she was fucking around with other men, was she. And getting paid for it. The cunt. She could have at least charged a couple hundred.
Then another thought hit me, woozy as I was from the martinis. Instead of catching her in the act... why not call on her myself? The thought made me even dizzier than the drinks. Yes. Alice would do her special thing to me -- her husband -- and not even know it.
That evening -- and the whole weeekend -- were awful. Alice kept asking me what was wrong. I told her I was coming down with something... maybe a bad case of the flu. I was irritable and kept to myself.
"Maybe a little fucky-poo would straighten you out," she suggested, giving me a fast bump and grind with her hips. But I told her I felt too lousy and just wanted to be alone.
I spent the whole weekend planning my course of action. I would call Alice Monday morning, disguise my voice, and make an appointment with her. My only problem was how to disguise my appearance.
I considered everything. Even thought of shaving my goatee and getting a crew cut. But she'd still know it was me. I needed a foolproof way of hiding my identity.
Then it came to me. I was laying on my bed jerking off (no sex with Alice this weekend had made the pressure unbearable) . Just as I creamed all over my face and chest, it came to me.
I would tell her I was a V.I.P. in New York, and had to keep my identity a secret. I would put a paper bag over my head and cut out two holes for my eyes and ears. And I would wear a pair of dark sunglasses. Then, I'd buy a suit she's never seen me in. She'd never know. But I'd know... exactly why everybody thought Alice was a "special cunt."
* * *
Monday, at 9:30, I called her.
"Hello."
"I'd like to make an appointment with you," I strained my vocal cords and put four fingers in my mouth. "I'll bring the seventy-five dollars in cash."
"Who are you?" Alice asked.
"Call me V.I.P." I said in that strange muffled voice. "V.I.P?"
"V.I.P."
"Three o'clock today," Alice said. matter-of-factly. "I'll give you till five."
"Okay," I said.
"Call me cunt," said Alice.
"Okay, cunt. See you at three." She hung up first.
I canceled all my afternoon patients. Then I went to Alexander's and bought a kookie striped suit. And sun-glasses. I returned to my office and practiced cutting out holes on a few bags I had picked up. Finally, I got the holes just right. I slipped the bag over my head, put on the glasses and looked at myself in the mirror. Pretty weird. I looked like something out of a science fiction story. A box-headed gangster from another planet. Absolutely ridiculous. Especially for a professional like myself. But what the shit. It would serve its purpose. Alice would never recognize me.
* * *
Five minutes to three. I got out of the elevator, slipped the bag over my head and flipped on my sun-glasses. The sunglasses were dark -- the kind movie stars wear to keep themselves from being molested on the street. It was a little difficult seeing, but I managed to find our bell. I rang it.
"Who?" Alice said softly from the other side of the door. "V.I.P. And hurry. I'm horny." Oh, I'd get her goat.
When Alice opened the door, the two of us simply gazed at each other in silence. Neither of us expected what we saw. She was expecting a V.I.P. and before her stood a man disguised as a S.C.H.M.U.C.R. But my surprise must have been greater. Alice was dressed like a goddamned cat. A black leather cat's suit with a tail. Small holes for her eyes, nose and mouth. Ears and whiskers. And two holes in her costume so her tits stuck out; and a hole in her crotch so her pussy hairs showed through. Behind the hairs, I could see the faint suggestion of slit.
"Okay, cunt, please don't be alarmed," I said, "but I'm a V.I.P. in New York. And this disguise is necessary. I wouldn't want it known that I frequented a... prostitute." I said the last word as cutting as I could. "I may be the mayor. I may be the head of the Board of Education. I may be a famous athlete. And I may be a celebrity. You can guess if you like."
"I'll bet you're a congressman."
"Right."
"I won't tell a soul," Alice said. And with her mitten cat claws, she took hold of my arm and directed me inside.
"I'm a horny man," I said. "And a busy man. I have paper work stacked up to my ceiling and a TV guest appearance in three hours. So I don't want to delay. Here's the money." I placed a pile of bills on the bookshelf. "But 'I must know what the purpose of your cat getup is. If I do say so myself you look absolutely ridiculous. Although, I must tell you I am simply thrilled at the way your pussy hairs peep through." With one hand I grabbed hold of her pubic hairs and pulled.
"Ouch," Alice said, trying to get away from me. But I held a hank of her hair with a firm grip. If she were a man, I would have had her by the balls.
"Ouch? Why do you say ouch? Surely you wear this costume .. this way... with your cunt hanging out ... so your men friends can grab hold of it, right?"
"Ouch." Alice said. This time she managed to yank free of me. A couple wisps of her cunt hairs remained in my hand.
"And isn't this the sweetest thing? Your little titties are showing."
I went over to her and took each of her nipples between my fingers and pulled hard. I pulled so hard they got hard. As did I.
"Listen, Mr. Congressman, whoever you are. This is my show. You pay your money you get your show... my way."
Alice directed me over to the couch and made me sit down. I crossed my legs and folded my arms. I wasn't going to give Alice an inch! Although I had given myself about seven in my pants, I kept the bulge to myself. This afternoon, Alice was going to be a little frustrated.
"Purrr," said Alice, and she walked to the center of the living room.
"What's this purr shit?" I asked. "You're not a fucking cat. You're a lady. You don't have to purr for me."
"This is my show," Alice said.
Out of the blue -- no music, nothing -- Alice started to dance. This was her method of horning up her customers? Jesus. She picked a baddie. She gyrated her hips around and held each of her nipples in her hands.
"What's this... a cat dance? Ha ha ha. I didn't come here for dance instructions. I flunked my first and only two Arthur Murray lessons, so you're wasting your time, trying to teach me that step."
"You're the rudest customer I ever had," Alice said, raising her paw claws high in the air.
"You're the weirdest prostitute I ever had," I said. "Tell me. Does this cat costume really... arouse some men? I mean... do men actually get charged up just by looking at that ridiculous getup? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"
She stopped dancing. "Have you? I've never seen anybody look so stupid in my life." She put her hands on her hips and glared at me through the slits in her cat mask.
"Well I came here to get laid. Not to watch a strip-tease. Or, is it that you just don't plan to ever take that weird costume off. Tell me, is fucking difficult with it on? Doesn't all that tight leather make it a little difficult to spread your legs? I would have picked a different costume if I were you. Maybe... a ghost costume. Just a sheet and a few random holes. Put the appropriate part of your body against the hole when necessary. And more freedom of movement with a sheet. But a cat's costume? Where'd you dream that up?"
Alice let out her breath, like a balloon being deflated. My poor wife. Trying so hard to be stimulating. And I wouldn't give her the slightest encouragement.
"If this is all the afternoon provides, I'm going to take my money back and leave. Christ. I thought I was going to get laid."
"Well, maybe you're just abnormal," she said.
"Me?"
"That's right, you." She moved a couple of steps closer. "See these, buddy?" she asked, pointing both hands at her tits, "they're tits. They do wild things to normal males. See this?" She took both of her cuntlips in her hand, "it's cunt, baby. Raw cunt. And you know what? Normal men react to that, too. But you. You're the weird one." She kept her hand on her pussy, awaiting my reply.
"Well, to be perfectly honest, leather turns me off. It has a funky smell. And it doesn't feel anything like the real McCoy. So if you thing you're horning me up with that outfit, think again. Although, on second thought, I'll let you keep the money. This is a great comedy routine. Ha ha ha." I was convinced Alice would give up her lowly life as a prostitute then and there.
"What are you... a homo?" Alice asked. Poor pussy. She was so desperate to hurt my feelings.
"Sorry. Just a normal, ordinary male. Just waiting. Waiting to get my money's worth." I brought my nails under my paper bag and bit one off.
"Okay," Alice said, and she came over to me. She leaned down so one breast was shoved against my bag -- my face. "If you'd care to suck it -- although I don't know how you could possibly manage with that contraption on your head -- but if you'd like to suck it, or feel it, go ahead. It's yours."
Mechanically, I took hold of her tit and examined it carefully.
"What's this?" I asked, as though I had never seen the likes before. "What's there to suck? There's hardly enough flesh on it."
"What do you mean? Hardly enough. Nobody else complains."
"I told you. I'm a V.I.P. To me, tit isn't just tit. There are breasts that are really delights to suck -- and I'm referring to big, fleshy, meaty breasts with a little weight behind them. And then there's... this. You're probably going to tell me... this... " -- and I yanked her tit close to my eye -- "that this excites men?"
"Of course it excites men. They like to see a woman's nipples get hard. It makes men feel important. It feeds their ego to have a women's titty stick out. So go ahead -" again she thrust it at me -- "don't be afraid of it. You paid your money. You can have it."
"But I don't want it," I sulked. I turned away from her as though I were a child who couldn't have what he wanted. "I don't like them," I said. "They're too small for me."
Alice's body went practically limp. She sighed heavily. She was having a difficult time selling her body. Good. "But... you like this... don't you?"
Alice brought both hands to her pussy and spread her pink lips wide. The gaping hole beckoned to me. Dark as things were through my sunglasses, I could never miss a pussy. My cock twitched at that lovely sight, but I kept it to myself.
"You been examined for syph?" I looked away from her cunt, and up at her eye slits. "You know prostitution is illegal in this state. But if you are one, they require a physical for syph. Have you had one?"
"What are you talking about?" Alice asked incredulously. "Jesus. You never heard of syph? Your head falls off. Your limbs fall off. You die in days. It's very ugly. I have to weigh all that against the joy of having a few minutes fuck. Now, with a conflict like that, I've got to be convinced your clean. I mean... imagine an important man like me having his head fall off from syph!"
"Well, I don't have syph!"
"No sores?"
"No!"
"Any strange dizzy spells?"
"No!"
"Rapid weight loss?"
"No."
"Then it looks pretty good for you. But really... you should have an examination every few months. Sometimes those syph germs just lay around for years... you know, never bothering you. Just relaxing, minding their own business. Then, suddenly, they get restless, bored. Want to start a little something. Then, ham! Before you know it... your head falls off. They're small. But very mighty."
"I don't have syphilis, thank you."
"Or tits."
"Now stop that. I have a very nice pair. MB is just a trifle large on me. And now that you know that I don't have any dirty diseases down here," -- she again held her cunt lips open for me -- "you can take me."
"Just like that?" I said.
"Just like that."
"What about feelings?" I asked.
"What?" Alice said. Her arms dropped frustratingly and limply to her sides. It wasn't her afternoon.
"Feelings. You know... those little sensations that tell you what's going on inside? You don't want me to just rip 'er out and fuck you, do you? I'm a V.I.P. A man with strong feelings. I don't just take cunt where I find it. Only with feeling.
"What do you want me to say, I love you? Okay I love you. Now let's do it."
"I would have thrown off my disguise right then, but I was having too much fun. Christ, she deserved it. Letting men fuck her for money. And dressed like that! Jesus Christ.
"You're just saying you love me. Prove it."
"How shall I prove it?"
"That's up to you."
"Well, I'd kiss you. But I'd have to guess where your lips are. Listen, why don't you take that paper bag off your head. I won't tell anyone who you are. I promise."
"Don't change the subject. We're talking about love."
"Love, shmove," Alice said disgustedly, "pull your pants down and shove. You paid your money." Her hands -- paws -- went back to her hips!
"Well, Christ, If I really have to," I said dejectedly. And my hands started on my belt.
"Listen... buddy... you don't have to," Alice said with a bit of anger.
"No... no... it's my duty as a responsible citizen. I paid my money. I can't shirk it now. I am not a person to backtrack on my word. I can imagine how badly you need a fucking. But I really don't understand... I mean if you always need it so bad... why you don't pay your customers. Because there's nothing in it for them." I lowered my pants to my knees. I couldn't hide the stiff monster. My playful banter with Alice had excited me. And her exposed tits and cunt helped. But most of all, I guess it was that cat costume. Come to think of it, it did have a sexual flavor. Leather and all.
"Ha," said Alice, pointing four claws at my stiff prick, "look at you, you liar. You're trying to tell me I don't turn you on... and look at you, you horny bastard. You're so hard it's sinful."
"I can explain everything."
"Don't bother."
"I have a disease. Hardeners Disease, it's called. Quite common in Upper Silesia... but extremely rare here in the states. The disease has only one symptom. A constant erection. I must spend the rest of my life stiff and hard. There is no way to make it go down. So please, don't say I'm lying to you about my desire for you. My prick is hard only in response to this terrible disease."
"You're putting me on," she said, without complete conviction.
"I wish I was. Can you imagine what it means to try and live a normal life with a permanent hard-on? Can you imagine? Special clothes, first. See these pants? My tailor had to give me a few extra inches in the crotch. My god, my embarrassment at telling him! Never again can I swim in public. Or sunbathe. Bumping into things is a constant problem. A constant painful problem. Why, I can't even sleep on my stomach if I want. Oh, it's a terrible disease. And my job... do you know what it's like to sit hiding behind a desk eight to ten hours a day? Being afraid to get up and go anywhere? Don't even have the freedom to go to the bathroom at work. And, why do I work longer hours than anybody? Because I wait till everyone goes first. Just so they don't see me."
"Oh dear," Alice said, thoroughly convinced, "I didn't know. I'm so sorry." With one paw claw she gently stroked my throbbing member, more with compassion than with sex.
"Yes, that feels good," I encouraged, "my poor prick is so unhappy, up there like that all the time. He appreciates your concern. See him throb? That's his way of saying thank you."
"Poor little thing," Alice cooed, still stroking.
"Seven an a half inches, measured from the tip of my balls. And at the time, my ruler was warped. So it's really about eight or nine inches. Don't say 'little.' "
"It was just an expression," Alice said.
She continued running her cat's claws slowly up and down my prick. The feeling was luscious. My juices were starting to boil inside. For a couple of minutes, the two of us just looked down at my prick. She, sadly, feeling sorry for the hard, living hell it had to go through constantly. And I looked down, fascinated at the way my cock responded to those cat claws.
"You know," I said finally, "there is a female counter-part to this disease. It's also common in Silesia... lower Silesia. I just don't know what it is about that place. They eat a lot of fruit; maybe that has something to do with it. But... but the woman "s disease is called The Liquidosis Disease. And you can imagine the symptom. Always wet. Constantly. The cunt never dries. It just keeps manufacturing pussy juice every second of every minute of every day. You can't hide the squooshing noises when you walk. And it's impossible to keep from staining anything that comes in contact with it. It even makes urinating painful. It's terrible. But you can always tell when a female is going to come down with the disease. It can be prevented, if spotted early enough... but once the disease happens, there's no cure."
"How can you tell a female's going to get it?" Alice asked, curious. Her claws were equally curious, for now they had glided down to my balls, and were exploring away down there.
"The mimbus membrane."
"The what?" Momentarily, Alice stopped her stroking.
"Don't stop, please." -- Alice continued with my balls -- "The mimbus membrane. It becomes prominent when the disease is imminent."
"The mimbus membrane?"
"Yes... here."
I took Alice by the hips so she was standing just in front of me. Then I took one finger and let it slide through her bush, and deep into the hot canals of her cunt. My finger wiggled around inside.
"I'll show you where it is. If... I could only find it." Wiggling it faster now. "But, say... you are quite wet, yourself. Surely you don't suffer from this disease?"
"No"
"Oh, I see. Then you must be sexually excited." My finger continued poking around in her inners. Christ, it was like a boiling furnace in there.
"Did you find... the membrane?"
"No. Not yet. But I will."
My finger started pulling out. I let it slide over her wet pussy lips. Then I let it stop on her swollen clit.
"Aha,"' I said, "I think I've found it." I brought my thumb next to my finger so I could roll her hardened bud around in my fingers.
"That's my clit."
"Ah, yes. But you see, the membrane is hidden inside. When the membrane becomes prominent there's a slight swell on the left side of the clit."
"Well, if you knew it was on the clit, why did you hunt around inside me for it?" A good question from a cynical wife.
"Jesus. I'm not a doctor," I said. That seemed to satisfy her.
But another kind of satisfaction was on both of our "Don't stop, please." -- Alice continued with my balls -- "The mimbus membrane. It becomes prominent when the disease is imminent."
"The mimbus membrane?"
"Yes... here."
I took Alice by the hips so she was standing just in front of me. Then I took one finger and let it slide through her bush, and deep into the hot canals of her cunt. My finger wiggled around inside.
"I'll show you where it is. If... I could only find it." Wiggling it faster now. "But, say... you are quite wet, yourself. Surely you don't suffer from this disease?"
"No"
"Oh, I see. Then you must be sexually excited." My finger continued poking around in her inners. Christ, it was like a boiling furnace in there.
"Did you find... the membrane?"
"No. Not yet. But I will."
My finger started pulling out. I let it slide over her wet pussy lips. Then I let it stop on her swollen clit.
"Aha,"' I said, "I think I've found it." I brought my thumb next to my finger so I could roll her hardened bud around in my fingers.
"That's my clit."
"Ah, yes. But you see, the membrane is hidden inside. When the membrane becomes prominent there's a slight swell on the left side of the clit."
"Well, if you knew it was on the clit, why did you hunt around inside me for it?" A good question from a cynical wife.
"Jesus. I'm not a doctor," I said. That seemed to satisfy her.
But another kind of satisfaction was on both of our minds. Her hips had started rotating in response to my clit twiddlings... and, of course, my diseased member demonstrated it's prominent symptom.
"But... you don't have that problem. Your membrane's fine." I worked my finger faster. Her juices flowed faster. "But why don't you come over here and sit down a moment. Get off your feet. You must be tired. All your men customers must really tire you out."
I gave her a seat in my lap, facing me, her legs straddling me, so our heated organs met. My cock inched its way into her hole, and I gave her hard, little thrusts with it. I brought my head, instinctively, down to her tit, but suddenly realized sucking was an impossibility with my paper bag. But I wasn't ready to remove it, yet. So I compromised, and brought my hand up instead and' gave her tits a few good squeezes.
"Purrr," Alice said.
"Nice pussy," I said.
It's hard to be sarcastic when you yourself are hard. And going at it. My wife never felt so good. Maybe it was the cat costume that turned me on. I kept imagining it wasn't Alice -- which was easy since her identity was so well cloaked -- and the thought of making it with someone else added to my excitement. It's always nicer to fuck a stranger. So I saved my sarcasms toward her... at least until I came.
And speaking of coming, I could no longer hold back the charged up sperms that waited at the threshold, with their millions of tails wagging impatiently. With both of Alice's tits in my hands, I arched my back, and jetted the little liquid fellows out. There was more than a million for sure. Two hundred thousand at a time, they flew out in gushing thrusts.
"Uuuuh uuuuh," I said.
Alice's timing as always, was splendid. She met come with come. Grabbing me around the back with both arms, she started kissing the top of my paper bag, and let her legs shoot out. With a thousand quivers and trembles, Alice grabbed tighter to me, holding her cunt up as tight as possible so I'd be thrust as deep as possible inside her. Then she rested her head on my shoulder, her arms still around me, and seemed to collapse from exhaustion.
"I have an absolutely delicious surprise for you," I whispered sweetly in Alice's ear.
Ignoring my comment, Alice suddenly pulled her pelvis away from me and stood up.
"Hey. You don't have a hard-on, anymore. You're soft as a clam. What's this stuff about Hardener's disease!"
"You cured me. Thank you."
"Oh, bullshit. I had you horned up like the rest. You phoney."
"Don't call me names. What do you think you are... selling your body to anybody who can get the cash as well as his cock up. You're a goddamned prostitute. I wouldn't go around calling other people names if I were you."
"Well, now I can't wait to tell you my wonderful surprise."
"I'll hold my breath, if it makes you feel better."
"Are you ready? You know who I am. Guess."
"Haven't the vaguest... "
"Try. I'll give you some clues. I live in the neighborhood."
"This is a stupid guessing game. Anyway, in New York, nine million people live in the neighborhood."
"On this block."
"So do thousands."
"In this building."
"Big deal."
"Here."
"What do you mean... here?"
"I live here. In this apartment, dummy." I quickly flipped off my sunglasses. and pulled the paper bag over my head. God, had it been hot in there. "It's me. Your sweet loving husband. Remember? The doctor? And I've caught you." Alice stared dumbly without saying a word. "It's me Alice. And now we're even. Because there's something I've been wanting to tell you about myself for a long time."
At that moment, the front door opened. I had to blink hard. It was absurd.
"Alice!" I shouted. "That can't be you. You're here."
"Is that you!" she shouted. I was sitting there with my cock hanging out.
"Alice?" I said again. My mind was playing tricks on me. I just couldn't put my brains all together.
Alice stalked over to Alice... or whoever the cat lady was.
"Bonnie," Alice said, "what are you doing with him?" She glared at her. "That wasn't part of the agreement."
My head looked from Alice to... Bonnie? That was Alice's sister.
The cat girl removed her mask from her face. My god. It was Bonnie! And I thought I had just fucked my wife. Oh, God.
"What are you doing here!" Bonnie said. "Part of our agreement is that I have the place till five. You said you wouldn't bother me."
"It's six," Alice said.
"Is it really that late?" Bonnie said. "Gosh, I'm sorry."
I wasn't sure if I should be on the offensive or defensive. I chose the former, since it was easier to deal with.
"Alice. What the hell is Bonnie doing in our house!"
"I can explain everything about that! But what are you doing here... with her?"
"I can explain that."
"What is going on here," Bonnie demanded.
"You tell me," said Alice. "Why are you with my husband?"
"I didn't know it was him. He told me he was a V.I.P. and needed a disguise." She reached for the paper bag and glasses. "He wore this over his head. I didn't know. Honest."
"He... what?" She looked at me. "Didn't you work today?"
"Never mind that now," I said, angrily, and with confusion. "Just tell me what Bonnie is doing in my fucking house!" I got so angry, my prick flopped around.
"I want to know what you're doing here," Alice said.
"One thing at a time," I said. "You tell me what your sister is doing here."
Alice sat down on the wicker chair. "Well, honey... "
"Don't honey me."
Bonnie interrupted for the explanation. Christ, this was weird.
"Your wife let's me use your apartment twice a week, Mondays and Wednesdays," Bonnie said, her tits and cunt still hanging out of her costume. "She didn't tell you because she knew you wouldn't approve."
"That was sweet of you, Alice," I said sarcastically.
"Anyway... " Bonnie continued, "Mondays and Wednesdays I have... male callers. I can't do it at my place because my boyfriend isn't working now. He just stays around the apartment all day and writes poetry. I couldn't do it there and let him know about me. And also, I couldn't charge what I charge if I had men come up to my place. It just doesn't have any class. Not like your place."
"Now," said Alice, "now that you understand that part of the story... suppose you tell me what you're doing here!"
I explained everything. The bar. The phone number. My disguise. I cleared myself with both of them. But then, no one said a word. Bonnie stood there with her hard nipples jutting out, and her pussy just as prominent. I sat on the couch with my cock laying on my leg; although now it started to twitch a little. Alice sat on the wicker chair and looked at both of us, with a peculiar expression on her face. Finally I broke the silence.
"Well, well. No reason to just sit around looking at each other. Why waste precious time?" I held my semi-hard cock in my hand. "First come first served," I said, waving it back and forth.
Alice and Bonnie both made a bee-line for it. A couple of well brought up girls.
"Let's not be greedy," I said.
Both licked my stiff prick together. What a pair of sisters. Hungrily they devoured my organ. My balls, my asshole, nothing was left untouched. A family affair.
"Why don't you take your clothes off, Alice?" I suggested. "You look so... restricted like that. Alice had proceeded my words by a button. She was stark naked in a second.
"Amazing," I said. "Look at you two. Here. Both of you stand in front of me." They did as I suggested.
I took Alice's tit in one hand, Bonnie in the other.
"Identical. Absolutely uncanny how identical they are." I rolled their nipples around. "And see... they both protrude and harden in exactly the same way. No wonder I didn't know it was you, Bonnie."
The two gals stood there, smiling. Horned up at the whole thing.
"And your cunts are really very similar, too," I said. One of my fingers sloshed into Bonnie's cunt, the other slid into Alice's. "Same deepness. Same softness. Same heat. Same amount of pubic hair. And... same reaction."
As I wiggled both fingers inside them, they both responded identically. Like a pair of twins, they gyrated their hips around.
"How 'bout your assholes? I bet they're different." I removed my fingers and nudged the two of them to turn around. "Would you both spread your cheeks for a sec? This is really fascinating."
Both did. Alice took her white, fluffy cheeks and separated them. Bonnie took hold of the back of her cat costume and spread her cheeks. It was simply unbelievable how similar they were.
"My goodness. Isn't this something. Have you two girls ever compared assholes before? If you haven't you really should. Why, their coloring, their circumference... everything about them is simply identical. I wonder if they're equally as deep." A finger went into each, and both their asses rotated at the thrust.
"Aaaaaa. Aaaaaah," I heard in unison from them.
"And equally deep, too. Amazing."
My fingers channeled in and out of their assholes. Four soft asscheeks, all white and creamy, gently shook in rhythm to my fingers. A day off from the office should always be this exciting.
"I wonder about taste. I'll bet the two of you are different flavored. But why speculate? Let's get down to business and find out, shall we?"
In unison, the girls nodded their head, and increased the wiggling of their asses.
First I tasted Alice. I let my tongue spin around the outside of her hole, then darted my tongue in and out swiftly. Then I removed my tongue and licked my lips.
"Let's see. Alice... you're like... well how shall I describe it? I guess vanilla is what you taste like. Yes, vanilla. Now, let's see about you, Bonnie.
I moved my head over to the next asshole. Bonnie's hole got the same licking, taste treat I had given Alice. Then I took my tongue out.
"How very odd. I have discovered a difference. Bonnie... did you know you have a sort of a pistachio flavor up there?" I licked a little more. "Yes, without a doubt. It's pistachio."
"I'll bet our cunts taste different, too," said Alice. Oh, how she loved these kinds of games.
"Well, turn around girls, and let's find out. This is most... interesting." My cock would have chosen another word, standing up there like that.
The girls swiveled around. I started by sampling Alice. She widened her legs. I stared on her clit until it got firm, then played with her pink wet cuntlips. Then I stuck my tongue deep into the orifice.
"Uh... let's see... I'd say that tasted like... yes, the salty ocean. Did you know that, dear? You taste like the salty ocean. I must go out and buy Ocean Spray drink. I had no idea it might taste like this. Now, you Bonnie... "
Such a good sampling job. So thorough. I tongued every square centimeter of, in and around her pussy.
"Now that is truly interesting," I said, "it's got kind of a licorice flavor. What a combination, Bonnie. Pistachio in the back and licorice on the front. Your combination isn't half as interesting, honey. Vanilla and salty ocean. But then, I didn't marry you for your combination."
Alice took hold of my goatee with one hand. "Never mind my combination. Don't just sit around here getting us all hot and horny. Let's get on with it. Christ. Vanilla and salty ocean."
"Honest honey. That's what you taste like. Would I lie to you?" And then I remembered. My God, I was going to confess to Alice. I had almost confessed to Bonnie, but fortunately Alice had walked in right then. And now that I knew there was nothing I had on Alice... how could I tell her?
"Well... " said Alice, "don't just leave" us here panting. Fuck us, will you?"
"Is he always this difficult?" Bonnie asked.
"Often," said Alice.
I was able to bury my problem for the moment. With two hot pussies in fuckable reach of a man, he has no problems. Except which to take first.
"Who shall I start with?" I asked.
They both said "me," together.
"Well I can't do you both at once, for Chrissakes. Chose between yourselves.
"Odds," said Alice.
"Evens," said Bonnie.
"Once, twice, three, shoot," said Alice.
Alice put out two fingers, Bonnie three.
"Five. That's odd. So I go first." It was obviously a childhood game of theirs.
"At least two out of three," said Bonnie Their fingers flicked out twice more.
"I won," said Bonnie.
"You withheld your third finger when you saw how many I had," said Alice.
"Will you two make up your mind already? I thought you were both so horny."
"He's my husband, so I'm going first," said Alice. "Honey, do me on the floor, okay?" She flopped down on the carpet and opened her legs.
"I'll be with you in a moment," I said to Bonnie, quickly kissing her big nipple as a sweet, momentary, parting gesture.
I landed on my wife, and shoved my tool in. We bounced around like a couple of wild animals.
"Are you through, yet?" Bonnie asked.
"Will you shut up and wait your turn," Alice said sharply.
I thrust harder and harder.
"Come on, already," Bonnie said.
Bonnie then took me by the shoulders and rolled me right off Alice. I landed on my back, and Bonnie pounced down on top of me.
"Oooh, it feels so good," she said, thumping against me.
"Now just one minute," Alice said. "I'm not through, yet."
Alice took Bonnie by the hair and yanked her off me Then Alice sat down on my prick, facing me, and started to ride. Musical cunts was better than musical chairs.
"You come near me and I'll kill you," Alice said to her sister. Alice kept her eyes glued and glaring at Bonnie as she came. Alice jiggled faster and faster up and down like she was on a seesaw. My cock was getting the heat treatment. Alice grabbed onto my legs, opened her mouth, and let out a moan.
"Mmmmm, aaaaah. I'm coming, honey."
"Well hurry it up, will you?" Bonnie implored, standing nearby, massaging her own cunt.
"Okay, impatient bitch. You take him now. I'm pooped."
Alice got off and Bonnie almost flew on; same position as Alice had. We rocked and rolled and reeled together. Just before I came, I spotted Alice sitting in the wicker chair reading the New York Times. When she lost interest in something, she really lost interest.
I thought my prick would break off the way Bonnie crashed against it. The way she twisted and angled her hips to insure that she get every living inch of my hard cock. Then in a frenzy, together, we came. Sensational.
"We've come," I said to Alice. "You can put the paper down. Don't be rude. We have a guest."
"Very funny," said Alice.
"I'm going to have to be going. My boyfriend's going to worry if I don't get home. Bonnie lifted her cat costume body from me and went to the bedroom. Alice and I didn't speak. She was too engrossed in the fashion section. And I was too concerned about how I could possibly make my confession to her.
Bonnie came out of the bedroom looking like something human again. She wore a blue dress, and she carried a small bag that obviously contained her cat costume.
"Alice, I'll be talking with you. So long."
"Wait a sec," I said, "didn't you forget something?"
"Like what?"
"My money. Give me my money back."
"Screw you. I worked for it," she said, and she slammed the door after her.
"The nerve of your sister," I said angrily.
"Serves you right," Alice said without looking up from the paper.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it serves you right for not trusting me. And for trying to catch me in the act. I'm really disappointed in you. I've never done anything behind your back. I always tell you... whatever I do. Remember that little pact we made just before we got married? No secrets. Anything goes... as long as we tell each other. You didn't really think I broke that pact, did you? What kind of marriage would this be if we kept secrets from each other!"
I swallowed my Adam's apple hard. Gulp. She wasn't making it easy for me to confess. Shit. I had broken her precious little pact. I couldn't tell her now. The atmosphere was all wrong.
"What are you looking so glum about?" she asked, looking up from her paper.
"Nothing," I said.
CHAPTER SIX
That evening, we ate frozen TV dinners without saying a word to each other. She was upset because I hadn't trusted her. I was upset because I didn't know how I could possibly confess to her. Then it came to me, with a mouthful of metallic tasting mashed potatoes. It was perfect, flawless, I could make my confession without the slightest possible problem.
You learn about hypnosis in med school. How to get the subject to relax. How to put them in a trance. What to say to them. How to use the power of suggestion.
"Say, Alice," I said, munching on some dried up turkey, "I know you're a little upset with me. So I'd like to make it up to you. I mean my not trusting you and all."
I got up from the dining room table and returned with a candle.
"What the hell's this all about?" Alice asked.
"We're going to have a romantic evening."
"Jesus." She choked on her peas.
"Don't be sarcastic, honey. The air is filled with big chunks of love."
"Crap."
"Oh, come on," I pleaded, "surely you have a teensy weensy spot in your heart for me."
"So teensy I can't find it."
"You're not even looking for it."
"Christ... for a psychiatrist... you're quite a strange creature."
"Ha ha," I laughed. I lit the candle, then turned all the lights off. "Look into my eyes," I said. I remember that line. Hypnotists always should start with that.
"Jesus. Look into your own eyes," Alice said. "And I can't find my fucking seven-up with all the damned lights out." I could hear her hand fumbling around. It was difficult to see. "Damn it. I just stuck my hands in the peas. Will you turn the lights back on!"
"Look into my eyes." I stared into hers.
"What's so damned interesting about your eyes?"
Unflinching, I kept my' gaze on her. I would persist till I was successful. "Now let your whole body relax," I said slowly, drawing the words out to twice their normal length.
"Look who's asking who to relax. Christ. I think you've nipped your wig. What in God's name are you doing?"
"Your eye lids are heavy... "
"Your brains are heavy."
"Your eye lids feel like lead weights. You cannot keep them open. The strain is toooo much for you. All you want to do is relax."
"All I want to do is have you leave me alone." She still refused to look at me.
"I will count to ten slowly. Each number, your eye lids will get heavier and heavier. By the time I reach ten, your eyelids will be fastened shut. Bolted tight. You will not be able to open them. One... "
"You know you're crazy?"
"Two... "
"Will you stop it?"
"Three. Heavier. Like lead weights. Four... "
Still without looking up, Alice yawned.
"Five... six... "
Alice looked up at me with her eyes half closed. "What time is it? I'm a little tired."
"Seven... eight... heavier... almost completely closed now... too much effort to keep them open, now... nine... "
Alice's eyes closed all the way, and her head hung down.
"Ten... now you cannot open them... even if you wanted to... you are soooo tired... so sleeeepy... such a long day... just let yourself completely relax... sleep... sleep... sleeeeep... "
Alice didn't move a muscle. But I wanted to be sure she wasn't fooling me.
"Do not move... you are too tired to move... you're in such a deeeeep sleep."
I got up and returned with a straight pin from the bedroom.
"I am going to touch you lightly, but you will not feel it... your nerve endings are fast asleep... fast asleep . you will feel nothing... nothing at all... "
Standing over her, I jabbed the pin into her left arm. She didn't stir a muscle. My god, I had done it. This was just too gloriously easy.
"You are completely under my control... my voice will tell you what to do... and how to feel... you will listen because you trust me... like you never trusted anyone before... you will do everything my voice tells you... now look at me... "
Alice slowly raised her head and looked into my eyes. Her eyes were glazed and far away. She looked at me without any expression at all.
"Who is in command...?" I asked quietly.
"You are."
"You will do everything I say?"
"I will do everything you say."
"Well, you can start by taking your clothes off. I'm a little horny, honey, and I'd like to play with you a little."
No sooner said than done. Like a mechanical toy, she rose from her chair and removed all of her clothes. "Okay... you are a dog... "
"I am a dog," Alice said in a far away voice. She got on her hands and knees and started barking. Her precious tits swung back and forth like little ringing bells.
"You're a butterfly."
Up from the ground she rose, flapping her arms up and down.
"A snake."
Back to the carpet. Lying on her stomach, she inched her way forward, using her knees and stomach muscles to propel her. Her ass shone with the flickering of the candle.
"A dinosaur."
Alice got up again. She hunched her shoulders high and bending over, took huge, heavy strides around the room. I didn't know hypnosis could be this much fun. "A lamp."
She stood straight up, putting one hand on top of her head, the other hand in her cunt.
"What's the hand in your cunt for?"
"The cord."
"Oh. Let's see... be a kangaroo."
Alice hippety hopped round and round. Small globules of perspiration shone on her body.
"Lie on the floor and masturbate. One hand in each hole. You know. Really let yourself go."
Alice got on her back and inserted her fingers in each hole. Quickly her fingers wobbled around, making her whole body shake. She lay on the floor with her legs out wide, playing with herself.
"Okay, stop now," I commanded. I interrupted her just before she came.
"I'll bet you can't masturbate standing up on one leg," I said.
The subconscious is always willing to give something a try. Alice got up and lifted one leg off the ground. She reinserted her fingers and began shoving them in and out of her hairy holes. She kept losing her balance and dropping her foot, but each time she picked it off the carpet again.
"Okay. You can stop. Very good. Help me take my clothes off."
She made an excellent servant. Everything done, no questions asked. My clothes were strewn on the carpet.
"Now come stand over here and I'm going to tell you something."
Alice brought her body directly in front of my chair. I inserted one finger in her wet cunt, the other in her asshole. While I alternately worked my fingers in and out of her holes, I looked up at her.
"Does that feel good?"
"Oh, yes. Very."
"Do you like sex?"
"Oh, very much." The fingers went' deeper. As relaxed as she was from her trance, her breathing got heavier.
"Well, I like sex, too," I said, "and if you like I will tell you a little story about sex."
"I would like that." She was also liking my probing fingers because her goo was increasing at a surprising rate.
"Well, sometimes I have female patients who are very attractive. And of course, it's perfectly natural for me to think about sex when I see them."
"Perfectly natural."
"Well, I am going to tell you something about me now... and I want you to understand. I want you to accept it without getting angry. Perhaps, you could even be proud of me."
"I will understand." My moving fingers were shaking her white flesh.
"Well, sweetheart... in the last few months the only thing that has been on my mind... has been sex. Isn't that nice?"
"That's very nice."
"And you know all those hard, horrible years I put in to become a psychiatrist ..: "
"Yes."
"Well, I've blown them. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yes. That's wonderful." My fingers were working as well as the hypnosis had worked. Very effective. Her body weaved and turned to my tickling fingers.
"Why, I don't know what it is that came over me... but... remember I told you about that patient of mine... Jeanette?"
"I remember."
"Well, I fucked her. By convincing her it would help her. Isn't that awfully clever of me? Aren't you proud of your little hubby?"
"I am proud." And her body was very excited.
"Well sweetheart," I said, still jabbing my fingers in her insides, and crossing my legs matter-of-factly, "well... I enjoyed it so much, I got together a few more pretty patients. I ran an ad in a few newspapers. Wasn't that intelligent of me? And I wrote the ad myself. Aren't you just tickled pink with pride for me?"
"Oh, I am." Faster with the fingers.
"And you know... I've scheduled every day of the week with a female I can fuck. Oh, Alice it is so much fun. I know you like it when I have fun."
"I like it when you have fun." She was deeply under. My fingers were deeply in.
"So... that's basically it, sweetheart. I used to be a reputable, ethical doctor, but now I'm nothing more than a sex pervert. But that's nothing to be ashamed about. Because it's so good, good. Isn't it?"
"Oh, it is good."
"It's been going on for about three months now... I suppose sooner or later I'll be exposed."
"I suppose so."
"But you're not angry with me for not telling, are you? Your happy I told you now, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm very happy."
"Why don't we celebrate then?" I asked. "Why don't we have a delicious fuck and celebrate how happy you are that I told you, okay?"
"Oh, yes."
We celebrated. Hot and heavy we went at it. We did it standing. That's a real man's position. And I felt like a man. A new man. I had confessed all and was now collecting my just reward. I started the celebration by shoving my hard cock at a 45� angle into her cunt. She kept it going with twists and turns and moans. When the celebration was over, we lay on the carpet holding each other close. Then I remembered, she was still hypnotized. You learn in the first lesson never to leave a subject under your command without snapping them out of it.
"I will count to five," I said, using my original, slow, monotone voice. "As each number gets higher, you will start to awaken. By the time I finally reach five you will be fully awake, refreshed and happy."
"One... t w o... three... four... " I clapped my hands as a dramatic gesture. "Five. All awake."
"Wow," said Alice, "I really feel great!" She stretched. Then she took hold of my cheek with her thumb and forefinger, and playfully shook. "And how's my little sex pervert feeling?"
"Just great. Just great," I said, and I started tickling her stomach.
"Oh ho ha ha," said Alice.
"Oh ho ha ha," I laughed back. Things were finally back to normal.
* * *
The only thing that still wasn't normal, of course, was the frequency and intensity of my powerful sexual feelings. They clung onto me like a parasite. Wherever I went, those feelings went with me. To me, the world was a big sexual playground. Fortunately, Alice had a lot of stamina, for we had gotten up to fucking two to three times a night. If there was no such thing as Hardener's Disease, whatever I had was a close second.
My biggest problem was my practice. I had rerun my ad again, and screened more female patients. And before long, I was scheduling my fuckees just a couple of hours apart. Each was deliciously different, and for each my methods were different. By a few more months, I had completely eliminated all of my male patients, and was the only psychiatrist in town who specialized only in gorgeous chicks. Every one of my hours were eventually filled with lovelies. It was so convenient. The second the urge overtook me... I overtook my patient, whoever I happened to be seeing at the moment. And for this, I made a good living.
But I couldn't go on like this forever. Sooner or later, I'd get caught. So far I'd been extremely lucky. But I knew it was just a matter of time. I had to get out of the business, somehow... before I was thrown out. But what else could I do?
One lunch hour, while glancing through my notes, I knew I had the solution. In my very hand! I had note-books filled with all of my seductions. Details down to the pussy hair. Put them all together, with a little adding, editing and smoothing out, and I'd call the book, Confessions of a Lay Analyst. Of course, the book might discourage some from ever entering analysis. But on the other hand, it would certainly encourage others. I could just picture the thousands of wilted, horny women flocking to their local analysts for the pause that refreshes. Following the delirious success of the book, I could see the book made into a movie playing at my neighborhood Loew's. But I had a sullen thought. X-rated movies rarely make much money. And in order to get a G rating, I'd have to take all the explicit sex scenes out. That would leave me with a dull, two-minute short.
But I wasn't discouraged. Relying on my hard experience and lascivious imagination, I'd flood the market with book after book, each raunchier and more thrilling than the last. And then I could give up psychiatry. Maybe a visit now and then with a special patient in dire need, but that would be all.
So this ends my first book. Oh, I hope the details were explicit. I remember each of the scenes so, vividly in my mind. Isn't it just wonderful how just one juicy fuck can be replayed so many hundreds of times by the video-tape of the mind?
