Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿ My father's 70th birthday party came early, when I was in my
mid-thirties.  I had come into town for it and insisted on a hotel, intent
on getting laid and because of my step-mother.  The crowd gathered was
larger than I had expected, colleagues of his, psychologists one and all.
No spouses.  It was a retirement party as well and perhaps there was an
implied pressure to attend.  I was sitting in a ridiculously plush leather
chair, rubbing the dog's head, listening to the details of rational emotive
therapy from a quiet man I'd met before many times, eager to have someone
to talk to when he usually ignored me.  I split my attention between him
and a woman across the room, shining in the light, holding a white wine,
old enough to be my mother but radiantly beautiful.

   I knew of her, Dr.  Zaiss.  Dr.  Linda Zaiss.  She had been younger, as
had I, when I lay in my bed, touching my dick, imagining her fucking me
from behind as we watched each other in a wall mirror.  She hadn't been as
young when I drove by her house two years before, watching her lights at
5:30am until a face appeared in the window.  I drove back to my father's
house that morning, waited annoyed as everyone left for work, then dipped
into my step-mom's stash of crank to fuck my ass with an oversized toy for
forty minutes in front of my laptop.  I posted the video to XTube then sent
Dr.  Zaiss a message on LinkedIn.  She never answered but I knew women well
enough by now to be sure she wasn't particularly taken aback.

   She saw me watching and finally separated herself from the crowd.  I
stood and walked to her as she examined a replica of some famous work of
French Impressionism.  "It's shit, isn't it?" She turned to meet my eyes.
"Lovely breasts.  Have you had them done?" Her expression grew fierce and
she removed the napkin from around her glass of wine, crumpled it, and
threw it to the floor.  I bent over at the waist to retrieve it.  "What
really is the legacy of French Impressionism other than something for
starving artists to counterfeit and sell to suburbanites?  I don't mean to
put too fine a point on it, but I hear that Monet and Manet each gave away
a free Ficus with the purchase of one of their works." I tried to hand her
the napkin but she wouldn't take it.  "A hundred and fifty." She laughed.
"I'm serious.  You won't see me again, anything either of us says tonight
won't be true in the morning, and you don't have to worry about my
feelings. You can treat me like the whore I am."

   "Why would I even agree to even bed you?"

   "I'd ask to be wined and dined, but assume you'd rather not."

   "Didn't you hear me?"

   "If you were the one getting fucked . . ."

   "I'm a damned therapist.  I know you want Mommy."

   "Mommy's sissy boy.  Mommy's whore.  Mommy's bad girl who tries so hard.
I don't give a damn.  And I won't call you that, Dr.  Zaiss.  You're Dr. 
Zaiss and nothing else." She shook her head.  "You like boys.  That's
clear, their unquestioning love and trust that you destroy and assume."

   "Goodbye."

   "I make a great omelet."

   "Asshole." She turned her back.

   "Pedophile." She kept walking.  "Is there jam today or merely every
other day?  There won't be any tomorrow.  Buy the book.  It sells better."
The last came out in a snarl.

   "Do you even see what you're doing?" she asked, turning slowly with a
grin spreading on her face.

   "No." I mimed a dour frown.  "Will you be my foil?"

   "I want what I keep myself from having," she chided.

   "I can't get what I feel is right."

   "There's something wrong with me that it seems so right."

   "I want to be a fishing bobbin with no hook."

   "I take my needs as seriously as you do."

   "I notice your breasts are looking at me again."

   She shook her head.

   "I don't need to be saved.  I just need to forget."

   "I won't settle for what I can have."

   "I'm wrong and I'm sorry."

   "You," she was smiling broadly, "are a pain in the ass."

   "I'll show up tomorrow.  One hundred and fifty dollars for an omelet at
4:30am.  I'll be by at seven."

   "Not on your life."

   "I'll bring scotch."

   She laughed so hard, she doubled over.  "I have never seen such an
ostentatious display of neediness."

   "I'll even dress for the occasion.  I have a nice little red lace
number. Tasteful, classy.  You'll be there.  Tell me you'll be there.  Turn
me away at the door at least."

   She nodded, slight and slow.

   "Then I'll rely on my charm to get through it."

   "Bring gin.  I have a deck out back.  The door?" She trailed off and
walked away.

   I pulled into her driveway the next evening with a bottle of Boone's
Strawberry Wine.  I tapped on the gate door and opened it myself.  Dr. 
Zaiss was on the deck.  She looked down for several seconds at the bottle I
handed her then back at me with a look so flatly pissed off, it would
likely have changed me to stone were she not so pretty.  I said as much to
her, and she merely waved a haggard arm over her head, motioning me onto
the deck.

   "You don't break form," she remarked.

   "I know.  Isn't it great that I mean nothing to you?" I chirped in my
female voice.

   Dr.  Zaiss rolled her eyes skyward, lifting and spreading her arms.

   "You don't want to feed me to your fetish?  Go get your purse, you
bitch. Leave me my money on the mantel and you can take it out on my - " I
paused, unsure, then blinked and smiled broadly.  "Everything."

   "Go get a crush," she said, opening the patio door.

   "I have one," I answered, voice more masculine.

   Her fingernail clicked on the metal of the door, then she closed it most
of the way behind her and disappeared into the house.

   "Oh, pooh!" I called softly.  Leaning over the deck railing, arching my
back, I watched an unkindness of ravens, squawking madly in the trees on
the other side of the fence, across her deep back yard.  The patio door
opened behind me.  "I can't decide if they're angry or hungry." She waved
her hand dismissively.  Words.  "Can I talk about my inner fishing bobbin?"

   "Your lack of self-worth."

   "So desolate and desperate to be intoned with each manipulative word I
speak, so resplendent with monotonous idiosyncrasies that can't be
delineated from one banal expression of it to the next, so replete with
what?  I often wonder." I turned around to a "you're an asshole" look and
saw the unscrewed bottle of Boone's on the table and Dr.  Zaiss holding a
glass of clear liquid with ice.

   "Drink up, Kimmy."

   I smiled.  "I am such a Kim, aren't I?"

   Settling down in a chair and hoisting the bottle, I realized it would
indeed be a good idea to scuttle my reason and inhibitions.  "I think I'm
going to drink to everything you want and everything good you could be for
me that I'm not going to allow for one minute tonight because tonight is
about everything I can be to you.  God, just saying that, I can feel it in
my pussy." I pursed my lips and began shoving my ass back into the chair,
leaning forward.  I took a pull of wine.  "I have a toy and harness in my
purse." Then I took the longest pull I could.

   "You want to get fucked?"

   "I could not want it.  You can still have whatever it is you like."

   "Tell me you want to get fucked."

   "I want to show you." Another pull and a third of the bottle was gone. I
stood and picked up my purse and slung it over my shoulder.  "Come on,
pumpkin.  You're going slumming." I strode inside and found the first thing
to bend over I could.  I gyrated my ass wildly, like a stripper holding
onto a pole, then stood up and arched my back as far as I could and ran a
hand down my chest to my privates, gasping, open-mouthed, when I reached
them.  "I wish I hadn't put on my panties, but they're just so perfect for
what I have under this dress.  I can take them off and cum in them later.
Would you like to see me cum in my panties?"

   "No.  You're cumming in my hand.  Don't forget that.  Not my mouth, not
my pussy, and not my breasts or hair or feet or anything else you might
like.  In my hand, so I can smear it all over that beautiful face of
yours."

   "I can be oh so grateful when women keep their promises."

   My back was still to her.  I hadn't seen her since entering the house. A
hand moved between my legs and I sighed, sagging.

   "Kimmy, you're going to have to stop acting."

   "I'm not, Dr.  Zaiss," I said, focusing hard to make each word ring
true. "I've wanted you for years." I remained stock-still, conscious that I
shouldn't squeeze my thighs to coax pressure out of her.  "This is
everything right now.  You're all I wanted, the love of my life." I started
hopping up and down in my pumps.  "Fuuucck mmeeee," I whined.

   "You're kissing for a hundred and fifty."

   I spun and grabbed her, clenching her lower lip like a whore and sucking
on it as hard as I could for a few seconds before I relaxed into the kiss.
Dr.  Zaiss wasn't chaste, she wasn't cold.  She was precise, methodical,
ignoring my efforts to coax fluid interplay out of her and instead setting
boundaries with her mouth, her tongue occasionally darting into mine.  I
relaxed and accepted.  It was what she wanted.  Sliding down her torso, I
gurgled, "Make me a woman.  I'm so tired of being a girl.  I'm so tired of
being a boy.  I want a lover to tell me what I know, to speak to me like
the voice of God in the dark, to explain life's mysteries not as
metaphysics but as concrete truth.  Tell me, tell me what I am."

   "Kim," she said, taking me by the shoulders with her hands and pushing
me back some.  "You're mine." She forced her mouth down upon me, pressing
her tongue in between my teeth and lips, flicking my own flaccid tongue
from side to side.

   I whimpered and fell to my knees, reaching up between her legs to pull
her panties off so I could eat her pussy.  Disappointed that there were no
fuck juices to suck out, my tongue drove into her and my mouth worked at
her lips as best I could while steading her ass with my hands.  Immersed in
her skirt, I desperately sought to coax a moan out of her, whining for it
as I kissed and gummed with my lips at everything I could find.  At length,
I was rewarded with some rapid twitching and a sigh.  I kissed her twat a
few times to make sure she knew I loved her then settled back on my heels,
pulling from beneath her clothing.  Looking up imploringly at her, I merely
nodded.  She stared, mouth agape, eyes fierce and wide, though not seeming
wide in the dim light, seeming accusing and frightened instead.  I lifted
my forearms and clutched my hands, supplicating briefly before letting them
fall to my legs to play with the hem of my dress.  "Dr.  Zaiss?  Me?"

   "You're Kim," she sputtered.

   "I'll be a good girl.  Should I play with my pussy now?"

   "No."

   I rose.  "Please, Dr.  Zaiss?" I whined, eying her demurely then
embracing her when she opened her arms slightly.  "I love them, you, this,
all of it.  Thank you." The tension drained from me and I sunk into her
arms deeper.  "Everything." The moment began to cool and she withdrew.

   "Not now." She shook her head, fingers at her temples.  "Not yet."

   "Doctor," I chided, falling back into character.  "You don't think this
means I'll love you tomorrow.  Sweetie, I promise.  Please make double sure
you understand me." I spread my skirt wide and curtsied as best I could,
stumbling a bit, drunk.  "Dance.  Music?"

   "What do you have?  Like.  What do you like?"

   "Have you heard Paganini's first violin concerto transposed to E-flat?
It was written in D, but in E-flat . . .  well, it's vulgar." I moved to
the laptop before the television and smiled when the TV sprang to life when
I touched the mouse.  Punching it up on YouTube, I winked at her as my
asshole quickly spasmed.

   "What does it make you . . .  feel?  Oh my God, Kimmy." She advanced
quickly on the laptop.  "You whore."

   My hand caught her leg and held her still.

   "I won't have you listening to this in my house.  It sounds like a man
being taken."

   "Lucky fella," I smiled.  "Sit with me.  But I want my wine first, and
my toy, and my lipstick, and my, no your harness, and I want to know what
you bought for our omelet."

   "You don't shop at your rate," she groaned angrily.

   "Yay!" I clapped my hands.  "Store sex!"

   Dr.  Zaiss shook her head.

   "We'll find the meat locker."

   "Oh, fuck.  Okay."

   My heels clipped over the floor tiles ahead of Dr.  Zaiss as I
concentrated on both gliding and swaying my ass for her.  Purposefully, I
strode from item to item till reaching the orange juice in the rear-left
corner of the store by a set of double doors that led back to the inventory
room.

   "Kim," Dr.  Zaiss called forcefully.

   I ignored her, running my polished nails along the lids of jugs of
orange juice.  "We need a whole gallon," I muttered.  "Care to look
inside?" I jerked my head toward the double doors.  "I need to change my
rag and mommy here will help me," I said to a man pushing his own cart by.
He covered his mouth, laughing.  I turned towards Linda.  "How much more
attention can we attract?" My raised eyebrows and lips exhaling obscenities
must have convinced her of something because she grabbed my arm.

   "Kimmy."

   "No." I lifted my purse out of the cart, shoved one of the double doors
open with my foot, and strode through.  The deep freezer was just on the
other side.  I sprawled against the metal door, one foot off the ground,
both palms flat against it, staring off into space with a blank smile on my
face, watching for Dr.  Zaiss to follow me.  When the double doors opened,
I moaned, "I knew you wanted my ass," with an ecstatic smile on my face.  I
bucked my butt back into the door.  "Fridge or freezer."

   "Freezer." She shook her head, a hint of exasperation to her face.  I
pulled the door open and ducked inside.  "We need to get you warm." I
pulled my toy, already harnessed, from my purse and strapped it around her
waist.  "Spare me your cold, hard bitch joke," she said as I lubed it.

   Bending against the far wall, I wiggled my ass for Dr.  Zaiss.  She
lifted my dress and pulled my black lace panties down as far as my garters
would allow and impaled me with one slow stroke that I whimpered through,
begging for it not to happen.  Gasping in the cold, overcome by the reality
of my drunken fuck with my father's colleague in sub-zero temperatures, I
braced for Dr.  Zaiss's cock, meeting it with increasing ease, my ass
squirming up against her hips as she nailed my shitter.  "Fucking tastes
good, the pain," I let slip in my male voice.  Dr.  Zaiss changed her
tempo, sawing out of me with monotonous ease then slamming back into me. 
"Screw you," I whined.  Then she took me, filling me, my mind adrift in
another world without her, my screeches and whines an expression of having
my ass, my dickhole, my pussy claimed by the first woman I'd dearly wanted
to have it.  She begged with me, not with her mouth, but with her dick,
begged and coaxed each paroxysm from me, each gurgle and cry and needy
whimper filling the air with clouds of steam as I struggled to hold onto
the other-place her fucking cock took me to.  Then I popped and gasped,
groaned lasciviously and turned my head back toward her.  "Yeahhh," I
grunted.  "That's so good.  Give me that cock, give your whore that fucking
cock, you bitch." She placed a hand on my back and fucked me to my
encouraging, filthy words for minutes more before my legs, shuddering
madly, gave way and a small stream of cum ran from my shriveled dick as I
collapsed onto the concrete floor.

   "You'll freeze," she remarked, smiling.  "Come on, Kimmy.  Let me take
you home and get you warm."

   I coughed as the heat ran on high all the way home.  Inside the door, I
kicked off my shoes and tugged my dress from over my head to reveal the
elaborate lingerie beneath.  Grabbing my half-empty bottle of Boone's from
the coffee table, I took a deep drink.  Remembering that I was the whore, I
grabbed the grocery sacks from the floor and piled their contents into the
refrigerator while Dr.  Zaiss watched.

   "Honey," she said when I'd finished.  "Would you like to climb into
bed?"

   I nodded.  "Let me touch up my makeup."

   Dr.  Zaiss smiled sweetly and stood on her toes to nuzzle her nose with
mine.  "I don't mind."

   I understood this to mean she didn't mind the delay and retreated to the
bathroom with my purse.  I had a sheer black robe with a red belt to
accompany my lingerie set and put it on, as well as removing my panties and
refastening the garter straps.  I opened the bathroom door and literally
dove into the bed with her.  She smiled at me as I piled blankets on top of
me then leaned down to lie on my arm.  I made a kissy face that she
ignored.

   "You're beautiful, Kim."

   "Thank you, Dr.  Zaiss."

   "I mean that.  You'd love to know how it feels to be in bed with you,
but I won't say.  Tell me about the men you've been with."

   I shook my head, still smiling.  "I'd just make something up."

   She stripped slowly as I smiled at her and touched myself.  When she
pulled the blanket back, though, she mounted my chest and rode it, grinding
her pussy into me as she stared down at my face, pushing farther and
farther back till her ass crushed my dick and my erection receded.  She
fucked her cunt against her limp dick, my cock, her eyes closed, her face
somehow boyish, until she gasped and looked down, "You're the hottest fuck
in the whole city."

   I sat up and kissed her, then pulled her back onto me.  We dozed for
several hours, my penis at the entrance to her vagina.  As I drifted off,
I'd begin to grow hard and enter her, which would wake both of us up.  We'd
kiss a bit, then return to the soft, erotic haze of half-sleep.

   Eventually exasperated, I rose and made my way to the kitchen to prepare
the omelet.  I diced scallions after heat releasing the ground basil to
sautÃ(C) the sausage in.  After cutting the cheese into rectangular cubes
and braising the mushrooms in the sausage grease, I returned everything to
the refrigerator and grabbed the laptop from in front of the television.  I
took it upstairs and, in the dim light emanating the bathroom and the glow
of the laptop, proceeded to fix my hair with a brush I'd found by the
bathroom sink.  Dr.  Zaiss stirred on the bed but I ignored her until I was
satisfied, playing with my dic to get it hard.

   "Would you like to suck my dick?" I asked, standing up in my lingerie
which revealed its uncircumcised length as well as my hairless scrotum.  I
walked over to the edge of the bed and mounted Dr.  Zaiss, whom I realized
had fallen back asleep, scooting up to her mouth and rubbing the tip of it
on her lips.  Her tongue emerged to taste the head of my cock and lick the
cum gathering on her lips.  I forced my way inside her mouth and, planting
my hands on the headboard, began to fuck her face.  I looked down at her to
whine my thanks, then tossed my hair back and rode her with my whole body,
controlled by her teeth on the surface of my dick.  She reached up and
grasped it after a minute and I shrieked as her teeth peeled back my
foreskin.  I pulled off her, staring at her in aghast betrayal.

   "I want to fuck my whore again," she said.  "Get the laptop.  I want
something to remember you by."

   The lights came on and we placed the laptop on the dresser and I
squatted down on my forearms and knees at the edge of the bed.  She entered
me easily and fucked me as I whimpered and moaned, taking her cock with
blithe acceptance that grew to warm me into a steady pulsing passion.  My
heart raced and soon I was bucking, mouth agape, squirming back onto her
dick, gyrating my hips against hers as best I could, fighting her cock,
fighting her fucking tempo of meaningless, ass pounding possession as my
asshole fought to contract and seize her furiously ramming cock in a vice
grip that would bring her penetration, her possession of me to a pace I
could tolerate without losing myself in knowing I was her whore.  She took
her hands from my hips, warning me sharply to stay still, and reached one
hand between my legs to touch her toy.  I screamed as her fingers began to
twist the head of my dick, screamed at the surging ecstasy the fucking she
gave me conjoined with a leisurely clit massage.  I couldn't refrain from
bucking beneath her and she grabbed my hips again and resumed ramming my
pussy with the satisfying ten inch length of woman-cock, the dick I had
brought for her, now filling me and playing with my senses and emotions.  I
was Kim, a whore, a hole for her dick.  I was nothing but a receptacle for
her cock.  My ass, my mouth, were its to fill.  My mind was hers to guide.
My soul was in the grips of the good, hard, fast fucking she gave me.  I
moaned and jabbered and fought to get away.  When her grip on me relaxed, I
flopped over onto my back without allowing her to leave me and threw my
legs up in the air.  Together, we squirmed back onto the bed and I locked
my ankles high behind her back as she continued to take me, my hand playing
with my own dick, her toy, screaming as she kissed my lips and pounded my
pussy.  Her pace rose and rose and rose, the headboard pounding the wall.
When my shrieks and jabbering began to mention cumming, she pulled out of
me and knelt before me.

   I dove for her dick, sucking it fervently to thank her for the fucking
she'd given me as she screwed my face.  "So pretty, so pretty," she
remarked as I took as much of her huge, cunt-satisfying fuck pole as I
could.  I was her cunt.  And I was satisfied.  She drilled my mouth as I
gagged then pulled me upright.  "Beautiful, beautiful Kim," she said and
grabbed my balls firmly, cupping the head of my dick with her other hand,
forming a sheath with her fingers that glided like a body orifice, the only
one I could have, over me for not even seven seconds before I came and
came. "My baby," Dr.  Zaiss mewled, lifting her hand and slapping my
copious load of semen at my eyes, which I closed and knelt still while she
moved her hands, coating my entire face, working it past my hairline with
her fingers as I lapped up what I could around my mouth.

   "Thank you," I said, and fell forward on the bed, cowering in the fetal
postion.

   "Put your clothes on.  We'll eat."

   Dr.  Zaiss sat at the table, watching me cook.  I made only one omelet,
for her, which she didn't finish, then she took me into the other room and
sat me in a deep chair with no arms, hiked up my dress, and put me inside
her.  Leaning forward over me, wrapping her arms around me, she murmured,
"You may cum if you'd like."

   I remained still until her breathing became heavy and regular then began
to fuck up into her.  She roused and I grabbed her waist and we screwed,
her face contorting three times in orgasm before she tried to get away.  I
couldn't help it.  I couldn't let her.  Despite her protests, I fucked up
into her until a moment of darkness overtook me.  When I came to, I was
excruciatingly sore and begging her to climb off me.  She merely stared
down at me and slapped my face lightly.  "Make me, whore."

   "Please, please, please."

   "Promise me everything."

   "I'll do anything you want, anything at all.  I'll give you all I
fucking have, make any desire come true."

   She smiled.  "Nice try."

   I grabbed her robe and pulled it completely off her shoulders and dove
at her breasts, my dick screaming in pain as I nursed feverishly for one
warm squirt of fluid from each.  I smiled.  "Caught you."

   "Baby." Her hands engulfed my head and held me to her breasts.  "Shower
and get the fuck out.  I won't have you stopping at the gas station in
drag, stinking of cunt.  I want you leaving here clean.  I mean it.  Use
the pumice."

   "You bitch," I laughed.

   Clean and done up, I took my money from the mantle and, without
distracting Dr.  Zaiss from her morning news show, slipped out the front
door, gasping in the cold dawn air, walking bow-legged and unbalanced to my
car.  "Women," I sighed.  I unlocked my car with the key, not wanting it to
chirp.  "You are such a bitch," I reminded myself.  "You're lucky there are
mommies in this world who understand." Engulfed by the sounds of synth-pop,
I put the car in gear and slid down the driveway, escaping into the dark,
escaping from pleasure and the potential for love.