Chapter 5

I didn't want to go home. Not only was I still a little disturbed at (or by) Dr. Moulter-turned-woman, but the thought of facing Laurie while I remembered seeing her with the dildo giving her the business was anything but pleasant. I knew that I couldn't keep still; I'd blast off about her messing around with another woman, using the dildo, and generally proving herself to be some sort of a sex maniac, and she would tearfully retaliate that if I'd be a man and satisfy her she wouldn't be driven to such activities. Nothing good could come out of it, so I would just avoid it.

I left my car in the parking lot and headed for a bar down the block. It was a neighborhood bar, maybe twelve stools and three tables crammed up against the opposite wall. Apparently it was a stopping off place (a "spa" we sometimes called them) for men who worked in the neighborhood on their way home from work. They were widely mixed, from the business executive-type to others like myself, laborers. I pushed my way through, found a stool at the far end and crawled up onto it.

The juke box was going and the talk was loud, a lot of laughing, but I didn't mind; I just turned in on my own thinking and ignored it all. It wasn't a good scene. I kept remembering how Moulter had looked taking off the lab coat, her nice tits made obvious, her firm ass revealed, her shapely legs coming half into view. Nice stuff, and all the more disturbing because she was so damned machine-like! "You must get a hard-on," I silently mimicked, "so I'll just suck your cock a little to get it hard." Not a woman, just a machine leaning over and sucking on it, getting it hard. "I want a specimen, hut you might as well enjoy it so I'll do it for you!" I'd enjoy her heating me of, she wouldn't! Just a professional gesture. "Shit!"

"What'd you say?"

I looked up. The man sitting on the next stool was looking at me, a tall, blond fellow about my own age. From the expression on his face, in his eyes, I could only guess that I had spit something out "Sorry," I said, "I was mumbling to myself!"

"Well if you'd rather talk to another person instead of yourself," he said with a smile, "I'm available!"

We introduced ourselves-his name was Tim Handley and he was a window decorator at a nearby department store-and he bought me a drink. We went through the usual getting acquainted crap, the weather, who had the best chances at the World Series next year, the way the price of living was going up. I bought him a drink. He told me that he lived in an apartment not too far away, that he was a stereo bug, and that he went to Mexico or the Islands on his vacation every year. I didn't realize it but he had moved his stool over a little and his leg was against mine; I realized it when I felt his hand on my leg. I didn't want to make an issue of it, so I pushed myself up.

"Got to go take a leak," I said, and turned away.

I didn't realize it at first, but the three drinks I'd had had reached me. I wasn't drunk, but my mind felt a little fuzzy and while I was standing in front of the urinal I weaved a little. I blinked my eyes and tried to concentrate on the graffiti that seems inevitable in public restrooms. It was fairly standard, the crude, big-titted broad with a hairless, straight-lined pussy; the big cock with a set of tight, circular balls, globs of come shooting out; the (sexless) mouth with a cock stuck in it. The bragging. "I've got 8 1/2." The could-be-true-but-were-probably phony advertisements. "Gloria gives a good fuck. Call 444-7827."

"Good blow job. Call Hank. 782-5692." I felt like writing, "P. H. Moulter, M.D., plays with cock but is an iceberg!"

P. H. Moulter! Prick-Hardener Moulter! Bitch!I I wondered what she'd do if I looked her number up in the telephone book and gave her a call. "Dr. Moulter? This is your patient, Mark Sheffield. I'd like to come over and see if you're a woman, after all. I'd like to come over and give you a good fuck!" Shee-it!

I put myself away and went back to the bar. Tim had already reordered; there was a fresh drink waiting. There was also a friendly smile waiting on his lips. I decided I'd better level with him. "Look, you didn't ask, but I happen to be married."

He didn't bat an eye. "I figured as much," he said evenly, easily. Then a smile sneaked across his lips. "As a matter-of-fact, you wouldn't be interesting if you weren't a woman's man, if you didn't go for snatch."

"Then why the groping?" I asked.

He studied my face for a few moments, the smile still lingering around his full lips; then he said, "Why don't I just level with you? I like good-looking guys, but I don't want to have anything to do with them, I just like to watch them screwing some broad."

"So what's that got to do with me?"

"Well, you're good-looking, that's what got me started on it. I usually don't even think about it, but when I see a good-looking guy I do. I guess," he half chuckled, "I guess I'm really queer but don't want to admit it! So you might say that you turned me on."

I wasn't interested, but I found myself saying, "What'd be the next step?"

"I have an arrangement with a real swinger in the apartment across from me. Believe me, she's a real doll. And she happens to like my taste in men. So the next step would be to go to my apartment and I'd call her over."

"Then what would happen?"

"Well ... well, you'd screw her, of course, and I'd beat my meat while I watched you."

I shook my head. It didn't turn me off-I mean, I didn't think a thing about his being that way (hell, to each his own, I'd always said-but I didn't want to let myself get really interested. Even feeling my drinks a little, I could sense that if I let myself think about it I'd go along with it. I'd tell myself that my being faithful to Laurie for six years was a big farce when she ended up playing with the neighbor woman the minute my back was turned! I'd tell myself that if she could screw herself off with a dildo, then by god, I could get with another woman.

"Honest to god," Tim said, "she's really a beaut! She's ... oh, about five-seven, all peaches and cream and real curvey. Nice breasts, and from what the guys have said, she's got one hell of an educated pussy!"

I glanced down at his crotch, and he was obviously hot to trot. There was a big, tubular hard-on stretching along his leg. Mine had started up; that finished it off. It stretched out to its full, swollen length. Then I remembered old Moulter again! Goddamn, jerking me off and taking that "specimen," she'd known I dumped a load last night. I didn't dare do it again tonight. What a bird, when a doctor could analyze your goddamned gism and know if you'd shot or not!

But I wasn't going back there!

Tim's hand was on my cock. He rubbed it up and down gently. "What'd you say? Want some nice nookie?"

Laurie sitting in that chair with her legs spread apart, that damned dildo sliding in and out of her ...!

Moulter jerking me off with no feeling, just a goddamned, "professional" machine....

Nice breasts, and from what the guys have said, she's got one hell of an educated pussy!

I felt a little stickiness at the end of my cock. I wanted it, yes! Yes, goddamnit, I wanted some nice nookie! But if I went home I wouldn't get it, I'd either start a fight or try to forget all that and end up loosing my hard-on and not being able to get another one!

But what if I got with his beaut of a woman and still lost my hard-on?

We seemed to be caught in a vacuum. The crowd had thinned, men going home to dinner, but there were enough left that there was a slight buzz of conversation and over it the sound of the juke box. But for all intents and purposes, Tim and I were completely isolated; we sat at the end of the bar, his hand resting softly on my cock and his invitation hanging in the air between us. All I had to do was reach out and accept it.

Six years of faithfulness! After a life of variety, of fun and games, I hadn't experienced another woman in six years! All of those who had marched across my memory as I related my experiences to Dr. Moulter ... all that nice pussy, each one at least a little different from the others....

If you don't want to screw," Tim interrupted my thoughts softly, "she'll go down on you. She gives a good blow job, too!"

Jesus, he sounded like a pimp, except that he was pimping for himself. "I dunno...." I half mumbled.

"Tell you what, then. Why don't we go up to my place and have a drink. I'll invite her over for one, you can make up your mind then."

I guess that I was feeling the booze enough that I didn't realize that to go there would be taking the final step. It didn't seem like it then, I thought I was still arguing with myself and still had a chance of winning. But to his place we went! It was within walking distance, so I left my car in the parking lot; we went through a locked outer door and into a garden courtyard. The apartments, two layers of them, formed a square around the garden, with a swimming pool on the far end. We went into an apartment on the ground floor, halfway down the court, and it was really nice. I tried not to, but I found myself comparing it to the one Laurie and I lived in-comparing not only the apartment and the furnishings, but the ... well, I guess the only word is "personal." The personal aspects of it. I felt a sort of resentment. Tim, a man, had really done things to his; Laurie, a woman (and my wife) had left ours so that it was just an apartment, a place to live.

Tim mixed up a drink from a two-stooled bar against one wall, then he went to the telephone.

"Hi!" he said after a moment, "why don't you come over?"

He hung up, smiling. "She'll be over in about twenty minutes. Just got home from work."

I nodded, then (not realizing that I was admitting defeat) I remembered, and said, "Look, I didn't have a chance to clean up when I left work...."

He led the way into the bathroom, got a towel for me and turned on the shower. I stripped and got under it, lathered. It felt good, but at the same time it sobered me a little and I started to wonder again. Then I turned the water off, slid the glass door back and reached for the towel. Tim, stark naked and drink in hand, was leaning against the pullman with another smile ready on his lips. He had a well-formed, strong body, hairless except for a sparse forest on his chest and another starting at his stomach and thickening in his crotch. His big cock protruded from there, standing up against his stomach. He wasn't the least bit backward; he studied my body with open interest, and he obviously liked what he saw.

"Don't dress," he said after I'd dried and reached for my pants. "What the hell ... "

"But...."

But I didn't dress. Only half-hard now, I followed him back into the living room, and we had hardly settled before there was a knock on the door. A last, panicky thought went through my mind: Please let me get and keep a hard-on!

Even with her clothes on she was everything that he had said-and perhaps a little more. She was peaches and cream and curvy, with braless tits literally straining at the material of her blouse. She didn't wear make-up; she didn't need it. Her complexion was perfect, smooth and naturally colored skin over a perfectly formed face. Her blue eyes sparkled, her nose turned up ever so slightly, and beneath it were full, cherry-ripe lips. She looked at once like a wholesome, ail-American girl and a real sex item. For the moment my doubts were sent running; at the sight of her my whang rose to full stature.

"Join the party," Tim said casually, after he had introduced us and started for the bar to mix her a drink.

She didn't play coy. He had obviously been right; when his sexual appetite was aroused by something he found, she willingly went along with it. She pulled her blouse off and her lovely tits came into view, large but firm prominent nipples. She kicked her shoes off and slid her skirt down and off, and there were her beautiful legs, her well-curved hips, and a mouth-watering muff between her legs. I took it all in, unconsciously running my tongue across my upper hp. God, how long it had been since I had seen a beautiful, naked woman; how exciting it was to see something new! Not that Laurie wasn't all right, but she was just Laurie, the same body time after time. This was new, what thrills she held were yet to be seen. My prong seemed to harden even more, if that was possible.

Her name was Trudi, and it seemed to fit her. She was youthful, beautiful, and seemed ready for fun. She accepted the drink from Tim and sat in a chair across from me, not curling up and hiding things but sitting so that I could look up between her legs at the forest there, across the slightly rounded stomach and her luscious tits, and then to her refreshingly beautiful face. She and Tim chatted casually as he moved to a wall and slid a piece of paneling, exposing (as he had said; a fantastic stereo setup. He selected some records and put them on the turntable, turned some gadgets and closed the paneling. Music drifted out, softly, from hidden speakers all around the room. Tim moved gracefully to a chair and sprawled, his buttocks on the edge of the cushion, his huge hard-on up along his stomach.

"What do you think of my taste?" he asked, smiling. "Isn't Mark a nice hunk of male?"

"Very," Trudi answered easily, blessing me with a smile as her eyes focused on my rod. She seemed to chuckle, then she said, "Aren't I lucky that Tim is like he is? I hope he never changes! If he ever decided to go for cock himself, I'd be just crushed!"

I could only wonder how he could see her and not want to go for that! But then, maybe he had been right; maybe he was really queer but simply didn't want to admit to it Either way, up to this point his strange taste was being beneficial to all three of us. The rest of the world was forgotten to me.

In that brief moment when I had been thinking my own thoughts, something had been said. Now Trudi got to her feet, a graceful, fluid motion, and moved across the room. She lowered herself to her knees in front of me and leaned forward. Her big tits hit my legs, sending flashes of sensation through me; then I felt her hand at the base of my cock. She straightened it and I felt her tongue flick across the head, circle the ridge; then she tightened her lips and slid them down over it. I raised my buttocks off the cushion, immediately sensitized by the feeling of those hot tits against me and that lovely mouth riding my prong. As if she had merely wanted a taste of it, she pulled her mouth free and then leaned her cheek against it, pushing it back against my belly.

"Ummm," she murmured, "it is nice!"

I glanced across and saw that Tim already had his hand on his meat. He was playing with it more than he was stroking it, but it was obviously the preliminaries. Our eyes met and he said, 'Take her, Mark Get that cock of yours working right!"

Moving with her, I put my hands on her shoulders and gently shoved her back. We both were on the floor on our backs; I took her in my arms, crushing our bodies together full length, and found her mouth. Her arms went around me, her mouth opened for me, and as I sent my tongue into it she raised a leg and put it over my hip. My cock was crushed against her pussy, her tits were compressed against my chest

"Umm," she groaned again, grinding her pussy into me.

Tim was forgotten. I rolled her onto her back, raised up a little, leaned over and started mouthing those firm, juicy tits. My hand slid down her belly and went through pussy hair, fingers completely folded over the warm mound. I massaged it as I suckled first one and then the other nipple; I buried my face between those two luscious orbs and began fingering her. She gasped, spreading her legs, and reached for my whang. As I continued to finger her, working it in, she moved her hand up and down my cock; I started moving my finger up and down.

"Oh, god," she finally gasped out, "you've got me too hot too fast! Fuck me, Mark. Stick this beautiful thing where your finger is!"

It didn't take a second invitation. I pulled my finger out, raised my mouth to hers again, and swung my leg over her. I ran the head of my prick up and down her slit, forcing it in a little deeper each time; then it reached the right spot and I began the penetration. Slip-slide, slip-slide, burying it an inch or so more with each stroke; she spread her legs more, raising her hips to help. In a matter of moments we were fucking in a beautiful, rhythmic motion. I'd give it to her to the balls, retract it, give it to her again, and she willingly and fully accepted it each time. Gradually our speed increased, my prick sliding more easily because she had gotten pretty moist inside, but still held firmly by her warm cunt. It was almost maddening; when I'd get it driven completely in, her inner muscles would tighten over the head. As I pulled out the muscles held. Tim had been right, she had one hell of an educated pussy! And her hard nipples against my chest were equally exciting. This was one hell of a good fuck!

There was no stopping. We started going at it faster and faster, me pouring it to her, our bodies separating, our bellies clashing again. Our breathing grew heavier, more labored; then we were gasping into each others mouths. I sent my whang deep into her and left it, and I could feel her body quivering as my come spurted out in cock throbbing ejections. My buttocks trembled, and it felt as if she had almost turned me inside out. I collapsed-crushing her beneath me.

"Oh, baby," she finally managed, "that was a...."

I glanced up. Tim's eyes were closed, a look of exhaustion on his face. He had his limp cock in his hand, up towards his belly, and there were elongated pools of fluid halfway up his chest. He'd gotten his own rocks off, and obviously satisfyingly so. I nuzzled my cheek against hers, and in that moment I realized that I had done it! I had maintained a hard-on and done a masterful job of fucking! I was cured!

I rolled off her, knowing that my weight was heavy on her. Even that felt good; her pussy tried to hold, and as I pulled my limp whang out another fantastic sensation went through me. Yes, sir, she was a hot little number, a really educated pussy! I leaned over and kissed a tit, then sprawled out on my back. I was really all fucked out!

Only then-after I had that fantastic orgasm-did pangs of conscience begin to haunt me. Poor Laurie, driven to using a dildo because I couldn't keep a hard-on ... yet I had kept one with this beautiful creature and romped my way to a terrific load dumping! I really felt like a cad, so much so that it even took the edge off the pleasure I had just experienced. I shook my head, then pushed myself up and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a good shower would wash it all away; at least I gave it a go. Finished, dressed, I went back into the living room.

Tim had cleaned himself up. He and Trudi were sitting across from each other chatting as if they were fully dressed and had just met. You wouldn't have believed that but a few moments before he had used her-watching her fuck with a man he had enlisted so that he could enjoy jerking himself off! They were sipping from fresh drinks, and both looked up as I entered. Tim frowned for only a moment. "Dressed? Hell, I thought maybe we could rest awhile and go another round."

"Sorry, but I've got to get home."

Trudi held out a hand. "It was wonderful, honey, honest! You've got a lovely hunk of meat, and you really know how to use it!"

"Thanks," I answered without enthusiasm, and I couldn't even tell her that she had given me a good screwing. I just nodded and walked on out, not hearing their parting remarks.

It was dark and getting later, but I didn't give a damn. I stopped at the bar for another drink-I needed the fortification-then headed for home. On the way I stopped and bought a bottle, determined to get smashed out of my mind and thus avoid it all.

Sometime during the night I woke up. It took me a minute to realize where I was, to remember what had happened. It finally dawned on me that I was on the divan in my own living room, still pretty drunk, and someone was sucking on my cock. She was only a dark figure, silhouetted by the faint light that came from the bedroom, but I knew that it was Laurie. She was between my legs, on her knees, and it was working. She had me iron hard and she was sliding her mouth up and down it, playing with my balls with her other hand.

It was going good-maybe she could have finished it-but she couldn't be satisfied with that. I pretended that I was still sleeping, but I felt her shifting around. She was up on her knees now, her legs outside of mine, back straight, and while she played with her own tits she ran my cock up and down her pliant pussy. It felt good, I stayed hard, so she leaned over me, tits swaying down against my chest. I felt her rubbing my cock into her; she got the head caught in the right place, then she started moving her hips. She made three or four swipes, got maybe three inches of it, then the damn thing began to wilt.

"Oh, Mark!" she cried out in anguish, letting her body collapse onto mine. She kept me in her, soft, and her tits were squashed between us; her pussy kept trying, but there was nothing it could do. Finally she gave up and just laid there. A little while later she pulled off and went back into the bedroom; I could hear her settling onto the bed, and I really wanted to yell out that I was sorry, but I couldn't Jesus, it was a fine state of affairs when a guy could romp a stranger but couldn't even keep it hard for his wife!

In the morning I had a hangover and Laurie had dark circles under her eyes. But there was more than that. We usually didn't dress, but this morning she was wearing a housecoat; she looked at me occasionally, but she couldn't seem to get her eyes up to mine. She wasn't exactly pouting, but there was something there, something that had gotten in the way. I had an idea what it was, but with a head like mine I was in no mood to pursue it.

She put the plate of food in front of me and then sat across from me with a cup of coffee as I started to eat. She hadn't fixed anything for herself, another sign of something being wrong. But it was another clue that I chose to ignore.

The silence was heavy. It was the kind that was usually difficult, but this morning it would have been more difficult to break it. It was as if we each knew that we could say something, but at the same time knew what the other might say in return and were afraid to hear it.

If I had had the answer to one question it would have helped. If I could only know for sure whether what had happened during the night would have happened even if I hadn't gone home with Tim Handley, I would have been on surer ground. Had I not satisfied myself so lustily with the well-stacked, educated-pussied Trudi, could Laurie and I have finished things off during her "midnight raid"?

And, of course, there was the vision of spread-legged Laurie using the dildo on herself! Or, rather, letting the neighbor bitch use it on her!

But the question couldn't be answered, the vision was there, and I felt like I'd been hit by a steam roller. Leaving half my breakfast, I pushed myself up and headed for the bathroom.

Laurie was standing just inside the door when I stepped out of the shower. In a strained voice, she asked, "Mark, did you ... did you go to the doctor yesterday?"

Drying, not looking at her, I answered almost irritably (god, I could do without being reminded of that), "Yes, I went to the damned doctor's yesterday."

"Did ... did he say ... does he think ... P"

I wanted to tell her. Jesus, I wanted to tell her, but for some reason I couldn't. I wanted to say, "He's a she, and as far as I'm concerned she's just having herself a ball with me, getting her own kicks. Pretending to be professional so she can get her eyes full and do a little playing with my business and hear all about my sex life!"

When I didn't answer, almost desperately she said, "Mark, I've got to know. Is there ... is there any hope?"

Guilt and anger and the feeling of being pressured closed in on me. I struggled, but I couldn't win. Bitterly, hatefully, I spit out, "Any hope that I'll be able to get a hard-on so you can quit using that fuckin' dildo?"

Her mouth fell open, her eyes widened, and her face paled. She took a couple of steps backward, a hand flying to her throat I'd hit below the belt, knocking the wind out of her, and the minute it was over I knew that it hadn't been fair. But a man in the position I was in couldn't back up, nor could he apologize-he couldn't in the long run, admit his own guilt! And worse yet, Dr. Moulter's words came back to me, and they made sense; Laurie was a human being, a sexual being, with hungers that had to be satisfied. As a matter-of-fact, I could easily have felt guiltier from that; she had been a virgin when I had taken her, and she had later taken on my ways. Had she married someone else, she might still be contented with a weekly man-on-top session, but I had taught her the pleasures of sexual variety, the freedom of doing it (whatever it happened to be at a particular moment) whenever and wherever you felt like it! I remembered Moulter using the word "Pavolian." I had actually trained Laurie in the same way so that she responded to stimuli. Now, inadvertently, I was providing the stimuli but not the reward that came from response.

Pavlov had worked with dogs. I felt like a dog!

God, I groaned, why hadn't I been able to finish it off last night? She had at least gotten me hard, something we hadn't been able to accomplish in several weeks, why had the damned thing gone soft once she'd mounted me and taken it?

I knew that I was going to be late for work, but I had to try something. I had to know something. Hell, if I didn't get to work at all it wouldn't make any difference.

"Look," I said, trying to keep my voice gentle-trying to tell her without words that I was trying to be understanding. "I was awake last night I only pretended that I was asleep. Let's give it a go now, okay?"

She swallowed, then nodded her head. I threw the towel aside and walked past her, went into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed on my back. She followed me almost timidly, took off her robe and stood there.

"Just do what you did last night," I half whispered, looking at her naked body, at her nice tits and cock hungry cunt and trying to build up a feeling of lust.

She came up between my legs from the foot of the bed, tits swaying forward and brushing my legs. She took my balls in one hand, my limp cock in the other, and slid her mouth over the head. She tongued it, worked it, took the whole thing into her mouth. I reached down for her shoulders, gently massaged them, and silently begged, Get hard. Please get hard.

She worked on it, tonguing it more, sliding her tongue around the head, moving her lips up and down. It slipped out every once in awhile and she went right back at it.

"Turn around, Laurie," I half whispered. .

She turned around, lying beside me, without loosing hold. I buried my face in her crotch for a moment, then started tonguing her. Licked her all around, licked my tongue up and down between her pliant pussylips. I stiffened it and sent it in, sloshing it around the warm, moist inner flesh; I buried it as deep as I could and flicked it, then withdrew it and started sending it in and out It pleased her, obviously, but her mouth was working in vain. Finally I just grabbed her by the buttocks and rolled over onto my back again, pulling her with me. My face was buried in her crotch, my tongue up inside her, and my limp cock was in her mouth. We laid there like that in continued defeat I knew that she felt it as much as I.