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From: "Celena Dieterich" <celena@chickmail.com>
Subject: Lust With a Side of Psychosis (MF cons)
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As always, comments are welcome.  This story is archived along with
all of my others at
http://pages.whowhere.com/arts/minette_and_celena/index.html

Copyright 1998 - SBDDF Productions.  All rights reserved.  PLEASE
don't repost without permission or I will hunt you down, and it won't
be pretty.  Thanks.

Some of you may know my under an AOL name, but let's just stick with
this one for now, ok?


-----------------------------------------------------------

"Did you go in for a blood level, Ivy?" 

"Yes, Doc."

"Then why don't I have a report from the hospital labs?" he asked
patiently.

Ivy heaved a sigh.  "I give up.  Why?"

"Ivy, Lithium can reach toxic levels in your bloodstream.  You must be
tested every three weeks to be certain your dosage is correct."

"Oh, my dosage is just fine, Doc."  Ivy assured him.  She knew exactly
where this discussion was going, but was avoiding telling her
psyhciatrist that she hadn't been taking her lithium for about six
weeks.  Sure, it evened out her mood swings.  But what if you're
addicted to your own mood swings?  What if you LIKE them?  What if you
don't WANT someone trying to FIX you?  As Kurt Vonnegut had said, "I
want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on
the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center ."

".........back in the hospital, Ivy," Dr. Christians was saying.  

"Oh, no," the dark haired woman replied.  "I told you I'm not going
back there."

"Look, Ivy," Dr. Christians replied, "I'll be forced to put you back
into the hospital if you can't take your lithium and attend group
sessions.  Those were the terms of our agreement.  Need I remind you
that you are bound by terms you helped to choose?"

"I'm TAKING my lithium," Ivy lied loudly. "And I'm going to group
tonight.  Ask those morons at the hospital lab what happened to my
last blood level.  I went in for it.  I had to leave work early to get
there.  Check with my boss!"  That much was true.  Barry had let her
out of the office early the other day, and he DID think she was going
for medical tests.  Never mind the fact that she had actually met Pete
and fucked his brains out again.  She knew Dr. Harold Christians would
have a fit if he knew she was indulging in clandestine sexual
activities with a married fellow manic-depressive from her group
therapy sessions.

She really hadn't been intending to carry on with Pete.  When they'd
first met in group, they'd discovered a mutual love of music, art and
rhetoric.  Pete had been incredibly entertained by her ability to
remember great quotations.  It hadn't hurt that her 38D breasts were
nearly as beautiful as her big brown eyes.  He had told her he loved
her "deer-caught-in-the-headlights" look and desperately wanted to mow
her down.  For her own part, Ivy instantly fell in love with anyone
who could make her laugh.  It wouldn't have mattered if Pete had been
4 feet tall and weighed 400 pounds, she'd still have fucked him
because he was an entertaining guy.  Ivy always assumed that someone
who was entertaining would also be a star in bed.  She was frequently
wrong, but that didn't stop her from trying.  Fortunately for sexual
kismet, Pete was quite tall and had brown curly hair about the same
shade of brunette as her own, as well as being only very slightly
overweight.  His green eyes were brilliant in the institutional
lighting.  Before the first session began, he sidled up to her and
whispered in her ear, "I think I've found true love."

"True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have
seen," Ivy responded quoting Francois De La Rochefoucauld.

Pete laughed.  "Accurate enough," he conceded.  

Ivy was annoyed by the group therapy sessions.  The two earth-muffin,
healy-feely psychotherapists who ran the operation were always trying
to get her to express her feelings.  Ivy had never had a problem
expressing her feelings in her entire life.  She had a hard time NOT
expressing her feelings, in fact.  She just didn't want to hear Frank,
the overgrown bedwetter in the group, tell everyone for the 115th time
that he'd been sexually abused as a child.  She didn't want to hear
the skinny chick whine about her crappy relationships.  Why couldn't
these people see that life would always make them somewhat miserable
and JUST GET ON WITH IT!

Most of the people in Sponer and Jerkins Thursday night group sessions
were ordinary, garden-variety neurotics.  While they had some
incredible circumstances in their personal lives that required
surmounting, they were not classifiable as psychotics.  The two
manic-depressives in the group, Pete and Ivy, didn't really belong
there, but Sponer and Jerkins hadn't had a group of bi-polars to put
them in at the time.  Besides, bi-polars were difficult to manage in
herds.

As the group introduced themselves to one another during that first
session, Ivy and Pete observed one another, recognizing one of their
own kind almost instinctively.  Frank told eveyone for the first time
that he was neurotic as hell and had been sexually abused as a child.
Janie, the scrawny one, whined about her boyfriend, but said little
about herself.  Poor thing, thought Ivy.  She sees herself as nothing
but a reflection of the man she's with.  Gloria was a relatively
ordinary middle-aged woman who had suffered a terrible breakdown after
her husband of 10 years announced that he wanted a sex-change
operation.  Corinne was a stunning redhead who refused to say anything
at all, and appeared to be quite depressed.  Ivy imagined that if she
were as drop-dead gorgeous as Corinne, she wouldn't have a damned
thing in the world that would bother her, although she knew inherently
that she was completely wrong.  Then Pete took command of the room,
telling everyone that he was a manic-depressive, taking depakote
instead of the lithium that Ivy took, and that he was a third-year
med-school dropout working as some idiot's assistant in a big
corporate office to support his wife and three kids.  (Ivy would later
find out that Pete's wife came from a very wealthy family, and that
they didn't really require the money he made.  He worked to feel
useful, he told her.)  His manic episodes, he told the group, had
landed him twice in jail, thrice in the hospital, and always managed
to get him laid.

When it was Ivy's turn, she smiled that Mona Lisa sort of smile that
many manic-depressives have.  She told them quietly that she played
flute with the local symphony and gave them one of her favorite George
Santayana quotes:  "Music is esentially useless, as is life."  She
told the group that she was a "Lithiumite from WAY back," which Sponer
later clarified for the others.  She also regaled them with a rather
gothic description of her last suicide attempt a few years previous.
Pete had grinned knowingly at her and winked when she explained that
all she'd really wanted was to make them play Pink Floyd's
"Comfortably Numb" at her funeral.  She almost laughed when Pete
winked.

During the second session, Pete and Ivy very deliberately seated
themselves next to one another.

"God, I dread listening to another evening of crap," Pete complained
to her underneath his breath.

"As Jean-Paul Sartre said, 'Hell is other people'," Ivy responded in a
whisper.

Sponer began his usual heart-warming meditation which began all their
sessions, and Ivy leaned over and told Pete, "You know, I'd really be
interested in seeing you naked."

"That's because you're a nympho," he whispered back.  "All you
manic-depressives are horny as hell."

"Heh-heh," she chuckled wickedly, "you oughta know."

"Oh, believe me, I do," he said.  "And I'll be glad to show you after
this session."

Ivy knew she was behaving badly.  Ivy was famous for behaving badly
during her manic phases.  She knew Pete was, too.  It was part of the
package.

As the group was breaking up for the evening, Carl Jerkins took Ivy
aside.  "You know, Ivy, I really think you're doing well in this
group."

"I'm beginning to think I'm doing INCREDIBLY well, Doc," she said with
a chuckle, eyeing Pete's ass as he left the room.

Ivy caught up with Pete before he got to the elevators.  "Leaving so
soon?" she asked him.

With lightening speed, Pete pressed her back toward the wall opposite
the elevator, grabbed her ass, and pulled it toward his own hips.
"No, I was hoping to press you up against the wall and feel your
breasts while Jerkins and Sponer watched, but it looked like Jerkins
was going to get to you first.  But I'll bet my cock is bigger than
his, so it's a good thing you came after me."  He was sliding his
hands up into her sweater as he spoke.

Ivy giggled.  "Oh, I'm fairly sure it is, if that item pressing
against my thigh is any indication.  Unless you're just packing a
salami.  And if that's the case, I'm ready for a snack."

Pete chuckled, biting her neck a little as he squeezed her nipples.
"So it isn't going to bother you that I have a wife and children?
Because I AM in love with you."

"Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing; and confusion of the
real with the ideal never goes unpunished," Ivy quoted to him,
breathing hard and fast.

"Goethe!  My favorite!," he replied exultantly.  "So let's fuck." 

Ivy leaned her head back, enjoying his nibbles on her tender neck.
"Well, OK.  But I thought you'd be in love with that gorgeous
Corinne," she told him.  She was hoping he would lie to her, and tell
her she was far more beautiful.

"Oh, she's hot alright," Pete said as his fingers pulled on her left
nipple and Ivy's knees went a bit weak.  "But you ooze sexuality.  You
need to be fucked.  I can tell."

"True enough, Pete," Ivy said easily, with a giggle.  She reached up
and pulled his head down so that she could get her mouth against his,
sucking hard on his tongue when she managed to lure it into her mouth.

".....for the next session," Sponer's voice was saying as the door to
the the therapist's offices opened.

In a slight panic, Ivy pushed Pete back and pulled her sweater down.
She couldn't have the two psychotherapists catching her and telling
their supervising M.D.  Dr. Christians would NOT approve, she was
fairly certain.  Besides, anything even slightly risky always pleased
Ivy immensely.  She needed risk to feel alive.

Pete smiled widely as he punched the elevator button.  "Damned thing
seems slow tonight, doesn't it," he said conversationally to her as
the therapists emerged from their office.

"Yes.  Yes, it does.  I'm in the mood for something MUCH faster," Ivy
replied.

The two potential lovers stepped into the next available elevator and
looked at one another, waiting to see if Sponer and Jerkins would be
joining them.  "Should we hold this for you?" Ivy called out to them
as Pete stepped to the back of the elevator and got behind Ivy,
pressing his cock against her ass from behind.

"No, we'll catch the next one," Sponer called back as the doors slid
shut.

"Oh, good," Pete sighed as he pressed himself along Ivy's back and
cupped her breasts.  She wiggled her hips back against him and pushed
the L for Lobby button.

"So shall I just fuck the daylights out of you in the parking garage,
or do you want to go back to my place?"  Ivy asked Pete.

"You shouldn't have strange men in your home, little girl!" Pete
admonished her.

"True, and you DO seem pretty strange," she agreed.  "And I was once
warned by a very good friend that I should never sleep with anyone
crazier than myself."

"You know, I've had the same warning.  But I won't know if I'm any
crazier than you are until AFTER I've made you cum four or five times.
I think it's important to make a lady come several times before I
release my load,"  Pete replied as the elevator lurched to a halt.

" 'I only require three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless
and stupid,' " Ivy quoted with a gleam in her eye and then muttered,
"Dorothy Parker said that."  She took Pete's hand and pulled him
toward her car.

"Wait, wait," he said, "I should follow you in my car so that you
don't have to bring me back here."

Ivy readily agreed with him, and they got into their separate
vehicles.  She spied Pete's truck behind her as she drove her little
blue Miata out of the parking garage, blaring Beethoven. She wondered
briefly if this would become one of her more enduring affairs or
merely a good solid distraction.  Pete was adorable, but hadn't really
said much to her other than propositioning her.  Not that this was a
problem for Ivy.  She loved a man who knew what he wanted.  She knew
that even if Pete were a boorish idiot, she'd be hopelessly in love in
no time at all, especially if he was any good in bed.  It was the way
she was.

Ivy pulled up in front of her little condo and was about to slide out
of her car when she decided to remove her underwear.  Quickly, she
pulled her short denim skirt up and slid her blue satin panties down,
wadding them into her fist and getting out of the car.  As Pete
followed her up the walk eyeing her ass, she casually tossed them over
her shoulder at him.  He caught them neatly, laughing.

"Ummmmmm.......Ivy," Pete said as he looked around her condo, "It
doesn't look like you live alone here."

"My husband has taken our son and gone to visit his parents for
Thanksgiving. He knows I abhor them," she said easily.

"You didn't say a word about marriage,"  Pete reminded her.  "You
didn't say you had kids or anything!"

"What?  You have a sudden case of gender loyalty and hypocrisy
combined?" she retorted.  "It's OK for YOU to be cheating, but not
me?"

"No, no, no," Pete said quickly.  "You can cheat.  Especially with me!
I just didn't know that much about you, I suppose."

" 'The dread of loneliness is greater than the fear of bondage, so we
get married.'  Cyril Connolly," Ivy laughed and dropped her coat
beside the door.  She was a notoriously crappy housekeeper.  "But you
know enough to know that I want to see you naked, right?"

Pete chuckled as he threw his own jacket into the corner with hers.
He quickly began began to peel off his clothes.  "Oh, I'll be happy to
let you see me naked, Ivy.  You just have to reciprocate."

"Well, I thought we'd at least move out of the foyer first, but
whatever," Ivy said amiably and she began to shuck her skirt and
sweater.

"Gee, and I'd dressed so nice just to impress you," Pete teased her as
his Dockers fell to the floor.

" 'One should never put on one's best trousers to go out to battle for
freedom and truth' ,"  Ivy replied, "although I suppose adultery still
isn't what Ibsen had in mind when he said that."  Ivy was releasing
her heavy breasts from the periwinkle satin bra she wore.

"Let me help you with that," Pete said sliding his hands over her
nipples as the bra dropped to the floor.  At 6'1" Pete was quite a bit
taller than Ivy's considerable 5'8", so his rigid cock pressed against
her belly as he held her in his arms.  His mouth was warm and sweet
when he pressed his lips against hers.  She wiggled slightly in his
grasp, stroking the hair at the back of his neck as they kissed,
tongues touching and retreating, then touching again.  Pete ran his
hands down her naked sides.  Ivy's clit was throbbing in cadence with
the little pushes Pete's cock made against her soft abdomen.

"You're beautiful, Ivy," Pete whispered into her left ear as he kissed
his way around it.

Ivy shivered with delight, knowing that she allowed this sort of
validation to have far too much importantance to her.  Ivy loved men
and sex, for the sheer pleasure of the act, of having a different cock
suck deep in her pussy.  She moaned slightly trailing her fingers down
his spine to feel that gorgeous ass she'd been admiring.

For his own part, Pete was glad to have found someone as horny as he
was, especially someone who was likely to understand how his mildly
warped mind worked.  Ivy was less likely to be miffed when he
disappeared for days at a shot because he was willing to bet that she
did it, too.  She had nice tits, and she didn't seem to take
everything as seriously as his wife did.  Why did everything come down
to a comparison of the spouse to the lover?  And why did he stay
married if the spouse was always found lacking?

For the same reasons Ivy did.  Because it was there.  It was what
she'd committed to.  It was also a safe haven from the rest of the
world, even if it sucked.  It was a hassle to divorce.  Besides, then
she wouldn't have that forbidden thrill of cheating if she left her
husband.  That was half the fun.

Ivy removed her hand from Pete's ass and reached between them.  She
dipped a finger in her pussy, and brought it out to touch Pete's lips.
"I want you to eat me, Pete," she told him.

Now here was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't
afraid to tell her lover.  Pete caught the tip of her finger between
his teeth and licked at it the way he would her clit, making Ivy
squirm with delight.  She pulled away from his embrace and took him
into the bedroom.

"Sorry.  Haven't made the bed since 1988," she mumbled as she flopped
on her back and spread her legs for him.  "Come here, Pete."

Ivy felt that oral sex was a measure for all men.  A halfway decent
man would graciously dive right in.  A truly great man would tease her
a bit and then enjoy her fruits with gusto.  She sincerely hoped Pete
turned out to be the latter, but she'd been disappointed by some very
nice guys before.  Pete knelt between her thighs and stroked her labia
softly, barely touching it.  There was a thin line of hair at the
mound, and the rest was shaven smooth.  Ivy was delighted and let out
an appreciative little "Mmmmmmm," as he brushed his hand down her
oozing crotch.   He spread her nether lips and examined her pussy
thoroughly, reminding her that he HAD been a med student and knew a
good one when he saw it.  She laughed even as she squirmed in
anticipation.  Her breathing was growing ragged, and her eyes were
half-closed.

Pete loved having a woman at his sexual mercy this way.  He loved
turning her on, loved the way she sighed when he dragged his finger
down her slit.  He leaned over and lightly licked each of her nipples
in turn as he slid two fingers into her pussy.  It was wet and tight.
The feeling made his cock ache for release.  He was dying to drive
himself all the way into that little hole and fuck her until she
screamed.  He kissed a wet line down her rounded belly to her mound.
He removed the two fingers he'd been slowly stroking inside of her and
spread her cunt wide open.  He looked up into her eyes for a few
seconds as she whimpered incoherently and then he licked her from her
perineum all the way up to her hard little clit.  He dragged his
tongue slowly back down again and then up.  Ivy's hips began to move
in rhythm with his licks and she was moaning loudly now.  She groaned
when he sunk his fingers back inside her cunt and began to circle her
clit with his tongue.  His lips sucked around the tiny knob of her
clit while his tongue gently flicked it.  He could feel her pussy
tightening around his fingers and increased the tempo and force of his
tongue.  She was grinding her hips against him, clutching handfuls of
the rumpled bedsheets and moaning as she began to cum in spasms.
"Yes......oh......GOD, yes,"  she groaned.  "Don't stop."  He didn't.
He gently brought her down from her first climax and pulled his
fingers free.  Before she had a chance to relax, he was on his knees,
rubbing the head of his cock all over her eager slit.

Slowly, he began to slide his cock into her cunt.  "You're so tight,"
he sighed happily as he began stroking back and forth inside her.

Ivy reached down his back to grab him by the back of his thighs and
pull him forcefully into her waiting pussy.  Pete had a long, thick
cock that rivalled most she'd seen.  It was perfect, and she was
grateful after all that she'd gone to group that night.  She pulled
tightly on his cock with her muscles.  Every time he pulled back, she
tightened down, as though she was afraid he'd pull his cock out of
her.  Pete's eyes were now the ones half-closed in ecstacy as Ivy's
hips rose to meet his.  Ivy knew she was going to lose control again
soon.  "Ah....I'm.....ung.....gonna cum....Pete," she moaned.

Pete thrust himself hard and fast into her pussy and began to pound
her cunt, fucking her hard, so that her next orgasm hit her like a ton
of bricks and she was groaning loudly, almost screaming.  With a loud
groan, Pete felt his own jism rising and knew he was about to pour it
into her pussy.  He had a vision of his white-hot cum splashing across
her cervix as he thrust his cock into her.  She was clutching his ass
and writhing with pleasure.  As their orgasms subsided, Pete was
suddenly overcome with an urge to be practical.

"Ivy," he said rolling off her and holding her in his arms, "you're
not going to whack out on me, are you?"

Ivy laughed raucously, enough to make Pete a little nervous.  When she
got herself under control, she said, "You're a manic-depressive, too,
Pete.  Can YOU be trusted not to whack out?  Do you have any idea how
funny it was for you to have said that?"

"So very true," Pete agreed with a self-deprecating chuckle.  "But you
know what I mean."

"Can I be trusted not to tell your wife?  Can I be trusted not to run
to a lawyer?" Ivy asked.  "Oooooh, yeah.  As Lord Chesterfield said of
sex, 'the pleasure is momentry, the position ridiculous, and the
expense damnable.'   Yes, you can trust me not to blackmail you.  And
I'm going to assume that the same is true of you, Pete."

Pete heaved a sigh of relief.  "I stil can't tell which one of us is
crazier.  I need to make you cum a few more times."

Ivy giggled.  "OK," she said easily, knowing that a beautiful affair
was underway.



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