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 DOTS AND DASHES OF COLOR Chapter 11
WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and
contains descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or reading
sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature -

do not read any further!

   This story is for entertainment only.  It contains adult oriented
material.  This is a work of fiction.  The acts and characters contained
within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact.  I do not
practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here.  The
characters in the story are entirely fictional.  You need to believe that
all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

   This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the
written permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed
with this notice attached.

   * * * * * * * * * *

   Oops.  I claimed that Service With A Smile Ch.  4 was the end of the
Dots and Dashes of Color series.  Not so much.  This segment laid low on my
hard disk drive, waiting to spring out and surprise me.  And you. 
Hopefully a pleasant surprise.

   A concerned Mr.  Marcus contemplates his performance during the two
sexual liaisons he'd had in rapid succession - Saroya Zenellis, former
Chairwoman of Zenellis Enterprises, and ex-secretary Letti.  In both cases,
full inflation was delayed and difficult.  Given Mr.  Marcus's previous
history of instantaneous erections, he decides to take action.

   * * * * * * * * * *

   Nurse's Aid

   Not being able to get it up easily or keep it up chafed my gut.  There I
was, a very sexual adult male with a voracious appetite for women large and
small - okay, maybe not the large ones - and my penis was not cooperating.
The trouble I had with Saroya was downright embarrassing.  The last thing I
wanted to give her was a laugh at my expense, or lack of expanse.  And
Letti's bra and pantied body didn't twitch my dick until I was drugged.

   I left work early with a feeble excuse - I had an appointment with a
plumber.  I didn't announce that it was my plumbing that was going to get a
check-up.  Oh yes, I'd successfully penetrated and climaxed with both
women, but I had been under the influence of artificial pheromones, and I
didn't want that drug to become a necessary crutch.  Besides, sex under the
influence had blocked out too much of my brain's pleasure center.  I barely
remembered what we'd done when I came to, softening and sticky.

   Selfishly, I picked a prick specialist named Marcus out of the Yellow
Pages.  What the hell, I might get better treatment, and he'd never forget
my name.  He had an end-of-day appointment from a cancellation.  From a
customer sporting a spontaneous erection, no doubt.

   I drove to a train parking lot.  Public transportation would take me
within walking distance to Dr.  Marcus's office.  And, I'd avoid steep
parking charges downtown.  Here in the suburbs, I'd pay a buck for all day.
That wouldn't get me fifteen minutes downtown.

   My eyes scanned the train car for attractive females, and there were
plenty.  One sat on the other side of the aisle, legs exposed by a short
skirt, but everything above her waist shielded from view by a newspaper.  I
gave up looking at her crossed legs when I noticed a familiar name in a
front-page article.  A class action suit had been filed against MultiMax
International.  Seems that over ten thousand women got pregnant when their
sex partners couldn't pull out before ejaculating when using Couples.  The
company announced an immediate recall, plus cancellation of a follow-on
product, Couples Plus, with stronger adhesive properties.  Dumb asses!  If
anything, Couples needed more lubricant and less glue.  As the woman turned
the page, she slid in the plastic seat.  Her skirt was bunched high enough
for me to see black lace panties.  My eyes were happy but everything below
my waist was dispassionate.  Damn, I was broken.

   After a short walk and an elevator ride, I entered a cookie-cutter
doctor's waiting room through a glass door with the doctor's name - Marcus
- in large black letters.  Padded chairs were worn thin from repeat visits
of sexually dysfunctional males.  And they were there in numbers, dejected
looking men whose egos revolved around their dicks.  Just like me.

   I checked in at the reception desk.  A pretty nurse with short-cropped
hair and nice curves, in a starched white uniform adorned with a name tag
reading BJ, smiled when I gave her my name.  "Any relation?" she asked.  I
shook my head.  In the old days, a modicum of attention from BJ would have
been enough to get me inflated.  Still, all I could think of was "blow
job", her full lips on my prick.  Was that a twinge?  No, just discomfort
from a section of unpadded wood beneath my ass as I took a seat.

   I filled out forms while every other guy there had their name called,
plodded down the hallway behind a wiggling BJ, and disappeared.  A man in a
white lab coat hurried from exam room to exam room, crisscrossing the
hallway.  Like keeping plates spinning on sticks, I supposed.  Limp sticks.

   Finally BJ called out "Marcus." A faint voice in the hallway called out,
"What?" I stood and followed BJ down the hall into an examination room. 
"Get undressed and put on this gown." Strip and be searched.  Just like any
other exam I'd ever taken, except for her smile.

   Just as I began to shiver from lack of clothes in the cold room, Marcus
came in with my chart and grunted.  His commands were terse.  ""Inhale."
"Hold it." "Exhale." At long last, he asked me to remove my gown.  There I
sat, buck-naked.  "So, what seems to be the problem?"

   I explained that I was having trouble getting an erection.  Did I really
have to explain?  He's a specialist, for cripes sake.

   He lifted my dick with thumb and index finger.  He was close enough that
I could feel his breath.  And, no, I didn't react.  "Stand facing the table
and spread your legs." I heard the crinkle of a rubber glove, then he
jammed his Vaselined finger up my ass, I guess to check my prostrate.  "Put
your gown back on.  I'll need to take an x-ray."

   "Of my penis?"

   Marcus escorted me to a room at the end of the hall.  I shuffled my feet
and held the back of my gown.  If someone saw my front, no big deal.  Lots
of people had, mostly young women.  But I didn't want anyone scoping out my
ass.  There was another table, a TV hanging on the wall, plus the x-ray
machinery.

   "You'll need to be erect," said Marcus.

   This seemed to be an impasse.  I was here because I couldn't get it up,
and he needed me erect to diagnose the problem.

   "Can you think of something erotic, or do you require stimulation?" For
the first time since the start of the exam, his eyes widened and he gave me
a crooked smile.  "Perhaps something I keep for just such purposes -"

   He unlocked a cabinet along the wall.  There was a stash of porn the
likes of which I'd never seen.  Bigger than mine!  Video tapes, magazines,
paperbacks.  I scanned the video titles.  He even had illegal copies of
Traci Lords flicks, before she was eighteen!  I'd heard about those but
never seen any.

   The phone on the wall buzzed, and Marcus answered.  "Uh huh.  Yes.  All
right." He hung up and addressed me.  "Choose something.  I'll be right
back."

   Not a second after he left, BJ came through the door.  I was still
naked! She focused on my groin.  When she licked her lips, my dick wiggled.
BJ's tongue was wagging, providing virtual stimulation.  I was half up, my
penis lifting.  Why was I reacting to her?  I grabbed a magazine from the
top of the stack and held it in front of my privates.

   Marcus reentered the room.  He scowled.  "BJ!  Please, give this patient
some privacy."

   "Sorry." Her face got redder.

   He turned his back to replace the x-ray plate.  I got another flutter of
eyelids, and then a wink.  Damn!  I was hard.  BJ scooted from the room.

   Marcus turned around and saw my erection.  "Seems like something's
working." He tilted his head to read the title of the magazine in my hand.
"Ah yes, WANTON SUBURBAN WOMEN.  Good choice.  Keep going with that
fantasy."

   It wasn't wanton women that got me hard, it was his assistant.

   "Lay down.  Close you eyes." I felt a gloved hand on my erection. 
Marcus's.  "Almost there.  Picture those soccer moms."

   The door opened.  I peeked.  BJ had stepped in.  Her hand was at her
throat, fingers dipping into her dress towards a breast.  Her stance was
knock-kneed, as if she was having groin feelings of her own.  My dick
sprung up, full and proud.

   "Are you here again?" Marcus called over his shoulder.  "Make yourself
useful.  Swap the film plates."

   BJ pulled a large square from the machine and slid in a replacement. 
Marcus slid the vertical screen up my legs until my dick rested against it.

   "Stay still."

   I heard a crackling sound.

   "One more," said the doc.  BJ now stood along side.  Her focus was on my
penis, not her task.

   "BJ, please, the film."

   She changed plates once more.  Marcus slid the vertical screen ninety
degrees, to shoot from the side.

   "Give me a few minutes to have them developed," said Marcus.  "You can
get dressed and wait in the lobby.  BJ will let you know when I'm ready for
you in my office."

   BJ followed the doctor out of the room.  She was looking back at me and
almost stepped on his heels.

   I was disappointed that BJ didn't stick around and offer to take care of
my hard on.  It was obvious she'd been interested, and my erection said it
was mutual.  I just stuffed my erection in my pants and walked back to the
waiting area.  I was almost proud and walked erect, just like my dick.

   Twenty minutes later, BJ called my name and escorted me into Marcus's
office, a small dark room decorated with stacks of medical magazines and
papers.  They might have mostly been medical magazines, with a few new
issues of porn for Marcus's collection.  I didn't have a chance to ruffle
through the stacks to find out.  Marcus flew in and threw himself into his
swivel chair.  It rolled sideways, bounced into a stack of magazines on the
floor, and came to an abrupt halt.  He waved an x-ray in his hand.  "You've
suffered some vascular and nerve damage.  You'll need to let things heal.
Thankfully, no surgery required.  Tell me, how often do you have sex?

   I considered the question.  "Two, maybe three times."

   "A week?" he asked.

   "No, a day."

   The x-ray and his jaw both dropped.  What did he expect?  I have a
reputation to protect.

   "That's way more than your organ can take.  You'll have to cut back,
while your penis heals.  I prescribe no sexual intercourse, and no
masturbation for a month." He scribbled on a notepad and handed me the slip
of paper.  I couldn't decipher his scrawl.  "Self-stimulation takes a
harder toll on your organ than plain sex."

   Harder?  I only wish.  But no way I could my dick take a month's
vacation.  I nodded, to indicate I'd understood, but not necessarily
agreed. My voice was weak.  "Thanks."

   "Pay BJ on your way out."

   Giving BJ my credit card was a cheap way to be close to her for a few
minutes more.  I didn't have the nerve to ask when she got off - work, that
is - so I returned the smile and left.

   The full impact of the doctor's prescription hit me on the elevator ride
down.  A month without sex?  Impossible!  As I strolled towards the train
line, flashing neon caught my eye - Adult Magazines.  My envy of Marcus's
collection got the better of me and I altered my path.  I pushed through
the entry turnstile inside the door, nodded to the pimply clerk and
wandered the aisles.  Some of the magazine titles I'd heard of, and even
owned several copies, but many were new to me.  I was tempted to buy the
latest Mayfair, a nice magazine from England, or the latest Juggs, and then
thought about Dr.  Crumholtz and her accusation.  I put both issues back in
the rack.

   As I came around the corner, who do you think was at the register,
getting change from a cash purchase?  BJ, from the doctor's office. 
Purchasing some additions to her employer's collection, no doubt.  I
approached the counter, hands empty but mind full of lusty thoughts and a
flaccid penis in my pants.  "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place
like this?" It was a stale line, but completely appropriate.  Her bag was
plastic with a bulge, not flat, so she hadn't bought magazines or books.

   "I can't get no satisfaction," she purred.

   A Rolling Stones lyric was a just response to my clichˇ.  We both
scooted through the exit turnstile onto the sidewalk.

   "Which way do you go?" she asked.

   I pointed in the direction of the over-head rail line.  "North."

   "Great!  We can ride together."

   We stood silent on the platform.  BJ swung her plastic bag back and
forth.  My curiosity was overflowing, but who was I to ask what she'd
bought?  A train arrived, and we took an empty seat together.

   "So, how long have you been a nurse?" I thought that's what she was. 
She was dressed the part.  She was sitting very close, our thighs in direct
contact from hip to knee.

   "I'm no nurse, just helping out in Daddy's office."

   BJ was Marcus's daughter?  Damn!  He says don't use your dick, and his
daughter was the first one in a while to raise my flag.  I decided to
proceed carefully, and disengage at my first opportunity.

   She continued, "I'm enrolled in med school.  You know, it's so silly. 
Daddy shoos me away when he's examining patients, like I've never seen a
man's penis before." Her palm rested on my upper thigh.  Perhaps the last
time since she'd touched one was longer.  Although given my condition, any
dick would have been longer than mine.  "Why, your dick was the first I've
seen in months."

   Given that her hand was mere inches away from my cock, I got nosy.  "In
the office, or at all?"

   "Isn't that a bit personal?"

   Her hand crept up higher on my thigh.  My prize lay dormant.  Maybe I'd
gotten hard in Marcus's office due to circumstances, me naked and all, and
not BJ.  "And your viewing me naked wasn't?"

   "Point taken.  I'm between relationships right now." She removed her
hand and clutched the plastic bag to her chest.

   I exhaled.  My curiosity overflowed.  "So, what did you buy?"

   "There you go again, getting nosey.  Say, are you in a hurry to get
someplace?"

   "No." Harriett was out again this evening.  "Why?"

   'Cause we're coming up to my stop and I'd enjoy some company.  I hate
going back to an empty apartment.  Why don't you come over?  We can chat,
and I'll answer all your questions."

   Hell, it's only company.  I'm in no shape for anything else, despite
BJ's attempts at stimulation.  "Sure."

   "Great!"

   She took my hand, like we were young lovers.  "Come on," she prompted.

   We skipped from the train steps down the block.  I hadn't skipped in
decades, and hadn't skipped an opportunity to have sex in, well, as long as
I could remember.

   Her building was a renovated two-flat on a block filled with cloned
structures, all red brick, all tuck pointed with new cement.

   BJ strutted up the stairs, hips swaying.  I followed closely, hypnotized
by the motion.  When she unlocked the door and flung it open, I tailgated.
Because I wasn't raised in a barn, I shut the door behind me.

   The efficiency was scarcely furnished: a bed, some homemade cinderblock
and laminated pressboard shelves, and card table near the kitchenette with
three mismatched folding chairs.  Sheets duct-taped to the walls
substituted for curtains.

   When I turned, BJ had already unbuttoned her white uniform.  With a
shrug, it hit the floor.  She picked it up by the collar.  "I'm casual
around the apartment.  I hope you don't mind.  This way, I don't have to
wash it out every day."

   I nodded helplessly, captivated by her up thrust breasts straining
against her black bra, low riding polka dot panties and white nurse socks
up to her thighs with stretch tops.  No old-fashioned garter belts for this
chick.  I should have been sporting a raging hard on, but nothing.  Not
even a twitch.

   "School is expensive and Dad doesn't pay me worth a damn.  Except he
won't let me work anywhere but his office.  Phony pride, I hate it."

   I decided to stay off the topic of Dr.  Marcus.  It was obviously a sore
point.

   "Why don't you think we're related?" she asked.

   I didn't have the heart to tell her it was originally Marzinsky before
some clerk at Ellis Island butchered it.  "It's just unlikely.  My family
settled in Iowa." A bald-faced lie, no harm, just for fun.

   "So, what did you come to Dad for anyway?  I bet I can guess."

   I grabbed a folding chair and crossed my arms.  "You don't have to
guess. You probably read my chart."

   "Smart guy.  You're having trouble getting it up.  That's what most of
his patients suffer from.  So, what did Daddy say?" She held up her palm.
"Wait don't tell me." She stood with her hands on her hips.  She was Wonder
Woman, except with smaller tits and without the lasso of truth.  "Abstain
from sex and masturbation for a week, and see if the condition corrects
itself."

   Even though he'd said a month, I didn't correct her.  "That's about it.
Some rest for the old boy." I patted my crotch for emphasis.  "Lay off the
hand strokes and limit the pussy."

   "Daddy's methods are so archaic.  There are newer, more modern
treatments.  Drugs, physical therapies.  How would you like a second
opinion?"

   "About what?" Was she offering me pills?  I didn't want to have to pop a
pill when I wanted to get ready for sex.  Shit, I'd be taking them
constantly.

   "About your problem, silly.  I'm taking human sexual response, and I
could use the practice.  Besides, I have some novel techniques I'd like to
try."

   I was curious but skeptical.  "I don't think so." The doctor says limit
sexual activity so I take his daughter home and fuck her?  Nice move.

   "It's not like I haven't already seen it.  It can't hurt.  Come on."

   That's what I was afraid of.  That I'd cum on her, or in her.  Was my
dick expanding?  I shook my head and folded my arms.

   "Please?  I have a gentle touch."

   That's good.  Nobody likes his manhood manhandled.  There I was, with an
attractive woman in her undies asking to touch my dick.  "Oh, all right. 
Just look, and limit the touching."

   "I promise." She smiled as if she'd just eaten the canary or sucked on
someone's penis.

   I removed my pants and shirt.

   "Might as well take it all off, like at Daddy's office."

   I hesitated, Doctor Daddy's prescription echoing in my brain.  "Your
father said -"

   "Strip, damn it.  I'm trying to help you."

   Her expression was anything but solicitous.  It was anger, not the sweet
disposition from the train.  She must really have issues with her father.
Which probably translates into issues with men.  Which meant me.  I
wondered what kind of danger I would be in, exposing myself.  Too late.  I
was completely naked.

   "Now let's have a look." BJ dropped to her knees, moved close and lifted
my dick by the head using two fingers.  Same crotch-side manner as dear old
Dad.  "I want to see the arterial structure."

   "Your Dad said -"

   She grabbed my dick and pulled hard.  "I'm doing this exam, not my
father!"

   Damn!  Why can't I remember to leave her father out of this.  "Okay,
okay.  Relax."

   "So seeing me this way doesn't get a reaction?" She stood up and posed,
knee cocked, chest forward.  Although viewing her cleavage at the office
was a nice fantasy, BJ in the almost flesh wasn't exciting at all.  Quite
pathetic, actually.

   "Perhaps massage therapy." She fell to her knees and began to stroke my
dick.  She did have a gentle touch, but my limp organ was unresponsive.  I
began to believe that my problem was mental, not physical.  After all, BJ's
provocative behavior in her father's office had gotten me erect.  Now,
barely covered, she wasn't at all titillating.

   "Okay, let me try oral stimulation."

   It was clear that BJ was horny, had seen me erect, and wanted to take
advantage of a big dick.  Like so many before her.  Her cheeks puffed as
she took about half the length of my cock in and out of her lips.  The
slurping sound was familiar but unmoving.

   Except for her desperation, it was almost funny.  Her father had told me
to stay away from sex, and his daughter was doing her damndest to get me
up. I held back a smile, knowing BJ wouldn't react well if I showed
amusement at her failure.

   She resumed her Wonder Woman stance.  "I'm sorry.  That's the best I've
got." She seemed agitated, glancing around her apartment.  Her voice
dropped.  "Listen, do you mind if I get myself off?  I'm so horny now I
could shit."

   I glanced at her panties.  A new spot had joined the others.  Her juices
were overflowing.  "It's your apartment." I sat down on the folding chair.
The unpadded spots were cold metal against my ass.

   BJ fetched the plastic bag from the porn store and removed a plastic
dick approximately six inches ling, a typical male size.  She dropped her
polka dot panties, flopped back on her bed and spread her legs.  Her pussy
lips were puffy.  She held up her second choice.  I was right about her
faked concern.  She wasn't interested in my condition.  Why not have the
real thing instead of a rubber substitute?

   BJ placed the dildo at her cunt lips and pushed.  She didn't make much
headway.  "God, I thought I was ready.  This can't be too big."

   I wanted to ask how big a dick she'd fucked, but it was none of my
business.

   "Maybe the lube will help." She paused, fondling the sex toy, as if she
had more to say.  "I gotta be honest.  Seeing your dick hard and stiff got
me all excited.  That's why I went to the shop, but they were out of stock
on eights and nines.  That's how big you are, right?"

   At the moment, I was less than four.  "When I'm up, that's about right."

   "A four looked too small and I passed up the twelve, for obvious
reasons." She rolled her eyes.

   Too bad she'd never met Harry Cocksworth.  Good thing they were out of
eights, given how much trouble the six incher was giving her.

   BJ took a tube from the bag.  The label was too familiar - she'd bought
Couples!  Damn store didn't bother to pull the product from their shelf. 
My product.  Well, Zenellis's product, but my idea.  Actually, his idea
after he saw me stuck in the skinny girl's cunt.  What was her name,
anyway?

   "When I saw you at the store, I figured you were probably horny too, and
you might come back here and, well, you know." She reached between my legs
and tapped my flaccid penis once more for emphasis.  "No such luck."

   "Sorry." My head and cock both drooped.

   "How about this?" She popped the bra.  Now she wore only stockings. 
Succulent tits, round with upturned nipples.

   Quite delectable, under most conditions, but not at the moment.  I
shrugged.

   "Well, I'm horny, and since you can't participate, you'll be my
audience. Sit."

   I was afraid to do otherwise.  Did she have a knife handy?  My prick
wasn't functional, but I wanted to keep it connected, for old times sake.

   BJ opened the tube of Couples.

   "Maybe you shouldn't use that," I suggested.

   "Who are you, Mister Limp Dick, to be giving me advice?  If you must
know, this is the biggest one I've ever taken, and I don't want to be
ripped open.  Now shut up and watch." She squeezed out a healthy blob of
lubricant/adhesive onto the dildo and coated the tip.  She laid back on her
bed, spread her legs and flicked a switch.  The dildo came alive with a
hum. A vibrator, not just a hunk of inanimate rubber.

   She massaged the outside of her pussy with the device, cooing at the
touch to her more sensitive regions, like the top of her crease.  In small
movements, she traveled the vibrator up and down, and then shyly slipping
it into her pussy.  With each dip between her cunt lips, BJ sighed.  I
expected that sex with her would be glorious.  Having a willing and
receptive partner usually makes it so.  I wasn't prepared to be anyone's
partner at the moment.  Even my right hand had no companion.

   BJ eased the dildo into her pussy, over and over.  Her movements
remained slow, until her hips began lifting from the cushion.  She drove
the dildo deeper, with difficulty.  It was clear Couples' sticky property
was taking effect, because she had to push harder every time.

   "Slow down!" I called, over the vibrator's hum.  "Take it real easy."

   "Fuck you!" she replied and pummeled her cunt even harder.

   Then it happened.  After one sharp thrust, the plastic penis penetrated
almost the full length but didn't pull out.  "Huh?" BJ attempted to extract
it, but the dildo stalled.  "It's stuck." BJ squirmed, yanking at the
vibrator.  "It won't come out." BJ's face was red, the flush cascading down
her neck and chest.

   I giggled.  This was pretty funny, especially since it wasn't me stuck
in her cunt.

   Her hips thrust upwards, as she tossed from side to side, chest rising
and falling, and then a frozen moment, as an orgasm swept over her. 
"Ahhhhhh." Except the device was still embedded, and still churning her
insides.  So, more writhing.  And another held breath.  "Arrrrrrgh.  No
more!" she shouted.  "Too much -" But it was too late.  Her moans were
guttural, more animalistic.

   "Don't just sit there.  Help me."

   "Who, me?  Mr.  Limp Dick?" My giggle grew into a chortle.  A horny
woman with a dildo glued into her pussy.  The situation was tragic.  The
series of orgasms was wearing her out, physically and maybe emotionally.  I
didn't know if excessive sequential orgasms were fatal, but if America's
Funniest Videos ever had an explicit category, a video of BJ's never-ending
climaxes would win first prize.  I laughed out loud.

   BJ was breathing hard, grunting.  "What's so funny?"

   "Your toy can't seem to get enough of your lovin'." BJ deserved some of
her own medicine.

   BJ groped for the switch, but the stimulation ruined her concentration
and agility.  The dildo hummed, shaking within her.  BJ writhed all over
the bed, bucking her hips like she was taming a stallion.  She moaned and
cried, I expected from pleasure.  "Oh God!" She fumbled with the device,
which was slick with Couples.  "It won't turn off!  No more." The vibrator
continued driving BJ into a debilitating series of orgasms.  "No more. 
Please, no more."

   This was hilarious!  Maybe too much of a good thing isn't a good thing.
I laughed so hard it hurt.

   BJ could barely complain about my laughter between orgasms.  "Stop it.
Oh shit!  I don't- I can't-" She couldn't finish the phrase.  Her arms gave
up trying to remove the vibrator.  She clutched at the sheets, worn out but
still spasming.  "I can't - No more -"

   I decided to assist and stood up.  That's when I noticed that I was
erect.  All eight inches.  Damn!  Humor as the solution to my problem? 
Perhaps I'd been taking sex too seriously.

   I knelt on the bed and spread BJ's legs apart.  With a gentle twisting,
I unscrewed the bottom of the vibrator.  Unscrewed?  Even that made me
guffaw.  The batteries slid from the plastic housing.  The stimulation and
buzz stopped.  BJ melted back, muscles fatigued.  Her arms and legs were
limp, motionless.  Couple's adhesive properties dissipated as I coaxed the
vibrator from her pussy, which was still gaping.  She was open but
exhausted.  I was erect and horny.  She had said she wanted the real thing.
I crawled onto the bed above her body, arms and penis stiff.

   She opened her eyes halfway.  "Oh God.  You have no idea what that felt
like." She took a cleansing breath.  "What happened?"

   "Didn't you read the label?  Couples is both a lubricant and an
adhesive. A friction-creator, actually.  Strong motions activate the
adhesive, slow motion the lubricant.  Your last push got the vibrator
stuck." Her nipples were bright red and puffy.  "Must have felt pretty
good, having all of those orgasms."

   "The first few, oh yes.  Intense.  Although a vibrator doesn't have the
same feel as the real thing." She must have felt my erection against her
upper thigh.  "Shit!  You're up?  Now?"

   "Uh huh." I licked one nipple, then the other.  "You're right, there's
nothing like the real thing." I placed my prick at her open pussy.

   "Now?  You want to fuck NOW?" She squirmed, dislodging my dick.

   I leaned my hips until the tip of my dick nestled against between her
draped lips.  "I thought you'd never ask."

   "What are you doing?"

   "Giving you what you wanted.  My eight inches."

   "But when did you - How did you - Oh God.  Not now.  I don't have the
strength to -"

   "Be quiet and let me do the work.  Just enjoy." I pushed forward,
wondering if the Couples gel was still active in her cunt.

   "I'm not up for this.  I'm happy you got an erection, but -"

   "Think of it this way," I said.  "You had an appetizer, now it's time
for the main course."

   "But I had way too many appetizers.  God, your penis is hot."

   It was burning.  I didn't know how long it would last, now that the
laughing had stopped.  "There's got to be an ounce of pity in that body of
yours for a guy who couldn't get stiff, now is, and needs to do something
with it."

   She closed her eyes and licked her lips.  The feel of my prick at the
entrance to her pussy was having some effect.  "Maybe an ounce.  But I
can't raise my arms or anything.  How will I-"

   I moved up, wedging a couple of inches into her.  "Let me do the work."

   The vibrator had a great job of tunneling, but my dick was fatter and
longer, so despite the reaming, I still got friction.

   As I pumped, in and out, gently, BJ moaned.  "My legs.  I can't keep
them open.  They're cramping.

   "Okay." I spread my legs outside of hers and used my knees to push her
legs together.  That put additional pressure on my dick, her pussy squeezed
by her thighs.  "Better?"

   "Mmmmmm."

   I'd changed the angle of approach, so that I'd slide against the upper
end of her gash.  The dildo had given her vaginal orgasms, lucky lady, but
never touched her clit.

   "You can do it a little faster," she whispered.

   I did as she asked, and added nipple sucking to my routine.  The
vibrator hadn't done anything for her tits either.

   BJ's hips came off the mattress.  "Uh oh."

   "What's wrong?" I asked.

   "God knows, I'm getting hot but my muscles ache real bad."

   "I have an idea." I pushed her legs apart and moved my legs inside. 
With effort, I guided her legs onto my shoulders, opening her up for more
serious penetration.  On my next insertion, I went as far as her cunt would
allow.

   "Oooh God.  How big are you?"

   "About eight inches." I laughed.  "Relax.  I'll be done soon."

   "Not before me." Her arms collapsed around my waist.  "Go ahead and fuck
me.  I can take it."

   I wasn't so sure.  I let my dick slide out.  Then, a sharp thrust.  If
there was any Couples left, I was risking getting trapped.  "You want the
feel of a real prick in your pussy, instead of that plastic?  Well, you've
got one." Time for another false exit and another quick reentry.

   She bounced, but only in reaction to the bedsprings, moaning and crying,
tightening her face and her groin muscles.

   "Do it!  Make me cum!" She shouted.

   I rubbed her tits.

   "No, lower."

   I licked my fingers and pried her lips apart at the top.  Once more, I
licked, than vibrated my fingers back and forth.

   Her cunt clamped down.  "Oh yes.  Oh yes.  Ohhhhhhh."

   I executed a flurry of short jabs, prick tight inside her.  Semen burst
from my dick.  Not bad timing, if I say so myself.

   Her legs flopped from my shoulders, splayed to the sides.

   BJ got an orgasm from a real dick, and I was cured.  And if not, I sure
as hell enjoyed the therapy.  I just needed to remember how uplifting
laughter could be.

   ###

   An Original H M Tale

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   Copyright (c) 2007, Harvey Marcus.  All Rights Reserved.