Chapter 8

The moment I woke up I knew that I was in a strange place. It was a slow awakening of all the senses, and all the senses felt it. The bed was bigger and firmer than my own, the sheets smoother-and they were scented. There was silence, whereas in my own apartment there were always sounds both from within and without. I rolled over onto my back, and I remembered.

Man, what a night it had been! P. H. (christ, what a name, especially for a woman like her) had, indeed, tried to make up for lost time. After our initial screwing session on the divan we had had a drink and then moved to the bedroom. (After all, mattress sports are better on a mattress!) And once there she had seemed inexhaustible.

"I want you to do all the things to me that you told me about doing to other girls!" she had said, half seriously and half with anticipation, and far be it from me to disappoint a woman like her!

"All right, my love," I had said at one point, leaning over to lightly kiss her tits, "this is what's called doing it doggie-fashion!" Grabbing her hips, I had gently flipped her over, getting on my knees between her legs, and pulled her up to where her buttocks were against my belly and my dong embedded in her forest; a few moments later it was buried in her, and we both enjoyed the delights of that position.

"Teach me to suck, Mark," she had pleaded, and I had laughed.

"Honey, just go down there and start sucking, nature'll tell you what to do!"

She had learned fast, and in her enthusiasm given all the nice little touches. The tongue tickling of the head, licking all around the ridge and kissing the tip, trying to wriggle her tongue into the opening. The ball sucking. All of it until she'd gotten what she wanted, a load of sweet come down her gulping throat.

"Do it between my titties, Mark! I want to see what it feels like to have that beautiful hunk of meat of your working between them!"

And avid student. "Mark, your language ... I told you it sort of ... well, fascinates me. Tell me the words, Mark. What do you call that lovely thing between your legs ... all the names for it."

'Well, let's see. Cock, prick, meat, tool, rod, shaft, whang, dong ... when it's right, hard-on...."

"What about what's between my legs?"

I laughed softly, rubbed what was between her legs. "Cunt, cooze, hot box, snatch, pussy...."

At one point she had said, "Mark did you ever read the book Come to Me. In it one of the characters-the main character if I remember rightly-used to do it in front of a big window. He said he liked to fuck with the whole world looking on!" She giggled a little. "Does that sound like fun?"

"Does it to you?"

"Yes. Oh, yes! I'd like for the whole world to know I've finally let a man fuck me!"

Like a couple of kids running for the Christmas tree on Christmas eve, we went into the living room and, in front of the window with the whole city spread out below, went into a lusty clinch. We loved and groped and loved and groped; then I slid my tool into her and we went into action. It was wild; when we started shooting we did a sort of St. Fitus dance, ending up on the floor with my whang half out of her and the results of our efforts dripping down our legs. She laughed with a sort of exultation, her tits almost alabaster white from the nightlight shining through. She was, indeed, like a kid who had just gotten a long coveted Christmas present!

We showered and, refreshed, went back to the bed to begin again. Finally, as the sky turned gray outside the window, we rested with our arms around each other-but the rest turned out to be the final count. So here I was, waking up in a strange bed, hearing the sounds (or soundlessness) of her apartment, smelling her smell. I stretched luxuriantly, then swung my legs over the side, pushed myself up and went naked into the other room. "Hey," I hollered out, "where are you?"

There were two notes placed on the coffee table so that I couldn't miss them. The first said, "Mark, dear, it was a wonderful night, a night to remember. Thank you, thank you! P.S. I kissed you goodbye, but you didn't stir-not your lips nor that other lovely part I kissed!"

The second note read, "Mr. Sheffield, please remember that you have an appointment at three p.m. P. H. Moulter, M.D."

I laughed, then turned around and headed for the bathroom. A night to remember....

Leaving her apartment meant returning to the world I had left behind some sixteen hours before. Going down in the elevator I was forced to remember that I had stayed out all night for the first time in six years of marriage-to say nothing of the fact that it had been a night of infidelity personified! There was only one problem; while I dreaded facing Laurie now, the guilt feelings, the depression from my other (minor in comparison) infidelities were missing. As a matter-of-fact, the night with Moulter (damn, why hadn't they given her a name?) had done to me what Geritol is supposed to do for older people, my blood seemed to flow hot and freely, I felt almost light-footed! At the ripe old age of twenty-four, I felt young again!

Maybe I was rationalizing, but it made sense to me. If my problem with Laurie stemmed from the fact that I was tired of her, sexually, then the solution would be to get untired. After all, I had been a real cocksman before our marriage, maybe I simply needed reassurance from time to time so that I could still, fill the role. Maybe I needed variety the way people needed vitamins-and the deficiency had caused the problem!

I remembered hearing once that a husband was like a dog on a leash. He had to have a certain amount of play, a limited area that he could run in. If the wife tried to pull the leash in, not giving him that room to play in, she could kill his spirit. Well, I told myself, if that was the case, "Arf! Arf!"

The apartment was quiet when I reached it. I held my breath, hand on the door knob, almost afraid of what I might find. If Laurie was using that damned dildo again ... well, I could understand it, maybe, but I didn't want to see it! I listened, but there was still no sound; I opened the door gently. Laurie, wearing only a bathrobe, nothing under it, was stretched out on the divan; she had obviously waited up for me, no doubt worrying, falling asleep only in the early hours of the morning (perhaps at the same time that P. H. and I had finally engulfed each other in our arms and drifted into the arms of Morpheus). I tiptoed through to the kitchen and turned the fire on under the left over coffee. Waiting for it to heat, I went through an imaginary conversation:

"Where were you last night?"

"I was at a friend's house."

'What were you doing?"

"I was conducting night school. I was teaching her the art of fucking!"

"Oh ... how could you!"

"It was easy. She was luscious, and a damned good student." N

"Oh, you cad! You beast!"

"No, doll, I'm not a cad or a beast. I just found out that I've got to have a little outside fucking. A little more of it and I'll come back and give you a first-class roll in the hay! Besides that, you're the one who wanted me to go to a doctor. You picked the doctor. In a way I was only obeying the doctor's orders!"

It was almost funny! Perhaps "ironic" would be a better word. But it was true. Laurie (or a trick of fate) had picked P. H. Moulter, M.D.

P. H. Moulter, M.D.

P. H. Moulter. Prick-Hardner Moulter!

Boy, was she! Just remembering, my cock started to swell, stretching out along my leg. "Tell me, Mark, tell me. What are we doing?"

'We're fuckin', baby! We're ballin' the jack!"

"Do it between my titties. I want to feel what it's like to get it up between them!"

"This's called 'tittie-fuckin', baby, you like it?"

"Oh, yes! Yes!"

"Press 'em in tighter, sweetie, make it nice and tight! ummmph ... ummmph ... ummmph!" And a load shot off between those two beautiful globes, up onto her throat, her chin.

"Oh, let's do it in front of the window. I want the whole world to know I've finally let a man fuck me!"

"At your service, madam!"

The coffee boiled. I filled a cup half full, added some water and sat down at the table with it. It was just a few minutes past twelve. In less than three hours I'd be in Moulter's office again ... in the examination room. Man, she wouldn't have to ask for a specimen this afternoon; she knew already what the results would be. Spermatazoa count: zero!

I found myself wondering about that. If every time you dumped a load it lessened the count of those cells that "made babies," then maybe that was why I had gotten away all those years without using rubbers or knocking anybody (except Laurie) up! Maybe that was the solution for any guy who didn't like to use rubbers (and I'd never heard of one who did). Just screw your heart out and keep that spermatazoa count down!! Dr. Sheffield's advice, free of charge, Christ, how foolish!

I heard noises, then Laurie stood in the doorway. The bathrobe was hanging loose, exposing part of her breasts and the dark forest between her legs. She had a hand to her forehead and looked dazed; her hair was rumbled and her eyes puffy. Certainly no bid for Miss America!-but at the same time there was something almost pathetic about her. For just a moment I felt pity for her and maybe even a little guilt. She looked used, and I had been the one who had used her.

"Where were you last night?" she started. "I waited up, worried to death...."

"Look," I interrupted her, deciding to nip it in the bud, "I didn't get home, just let it drop at that."

But some women can't let things drop, not even when everything would be better if they did. Laurie was one of those. She started in bawling about how I had seduced her, taken her virginity, used her for as long as I wanted and then suddenly decided to dump her! Oh, she knew, I couldn't fool her! She knew I hadn't been alone all night ... and on and on and on. I felt anger swelling up in me, and I could have met point by point; I could have told her what a dumb, stupid bitch she had been for not taking care of herself, for getting pregnant, how she had loused up my life by doing it. I could have reminded her that I hadn't had to marry her. I could have fought back, but I had neither the strength nor the desire to. I merely pushed myself to my feet, threw what little coffee was left in my cup into the sink, then turned around and walked past her and out of the apartment. In that moment I didn't care whether I ever saw her again or not; in that moment I realized that I had never really loved her. I had married her out of a sense of honor, taught her how to enjoy life until we had had a fairly reasonable relationship, but there hadn't been any real love in it. It had just been sex. I liked ass and she put but, it was as simple as that.

Sylvia Hawkins, the neighbor woman, was coming toward our apartment as I stepped out. She stopped and tried to retreat, but it was too late.

"Hey," I yelled at her, "you got your rubber cock with you?"

She spluttered and stammered and fell all over herself. "Go fuck yourself with it!" I spit out bitterly, and continued on down the hall and out of the building. Shit! She and Laurie had been going to have another session with it. Well, let them! Let them eat each other's pussies or whatever Lesbians did, I didn't give a damn!

Miss Redhead-with-the-big-tits led me into the examination room. "You will disrobe, please," she said from the doorway. I started to tell her that game was over, that I didn't need to, but the door eased shut. I probably would have caught myself in time, anyway.

I wondered now how P. H. would act-would she be last nights' lover, or the professional doctor? And I remembered her crisp, business-like irritation the last time she had found me still dressed. Half-smiling, deciding to play it by ear, I slowly took my clothes off and then sat naked on the end of the table, legs spread slightly apart and equipment hanging. I relived the last visits to this office and the moments of irritation were all gone; the ends had justified the means! It was even amusing, the games that P. H. had gone through. Christ, all she would have had to do was to tell me that she wanted to play with my cock, hear my sex stories and I'd have laid back and let her! People were, indeed, complex!

Complex! I laughed. Look at old Tim Handley, rubbing his hand on my cock in a bar and saying quite openly that he liked to beat his meat while he watched a good-looking heterosexual pair going at it-and then putting it into action with the equally uninhibited Trudi! Look at the sweet, dumb blonde yesterday morning, doing it with the boys for quarters and fifty-cent pieces and with me simply because she liked a big cock and a more experienced fucking!

So ... either they were complex, complicated and complicating their own lives, or they were free swingers with no complications, just an acceptance of it and going at it. Or they were like me, caught somewhere in the middle!

The door opened and P. H. came in. She was wearing her lab coat over her street clothes as usual, but the moment she closed the door behind her I saw the difference. Her face was softer, the smile coming from way down deep; her eyes were literally aglow.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sheffield!" she said.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," I answered.

She crossed the room in long, graceful strides, literally throwing herself at me. I put my arms around her as she landed against my chest. "Qh, Mark!" she cried out against my shoulder, her own sweet fragrance drifting to my nostrils. Then she pulled away, straightened and looked down at me, into my eyes, down my chest to my equipment. Another smile traveled the distance of her lips, then she went to her knees between my legs. She leaned forward and kissed my prick, then pressed her cheek against it, her lips warm against my leg. I reached down and laid my hand on her soft hair.

"Last night was so perfect," she half whispered. "So perfect I almost thought it had been a dream until I saw you sitting here."

She turned her head again so that her lips were pressed against my shaft; her tongue came out and gently flicked it. It started stirring, swelling slightly and stretching out along my leg. When it was fully hard, she raised her head, letting it stick up and out from my crotch. She looked down at it and smiled, kissed the head again and got to her feet.

"Did you enjoy last night, Mark?"

Isn't that a silly question?"

"Tell me again what we did?"

I smiled ever so faintly, saying to myself, Let her have her hang-up!

"We fucked," I answered easily. "We balled the jack. We played house!"

She giggled, and there was no question. This was no doctor; this was a woman who had found out what that thing between her legs was for! She reached out and wrapped her hand around my hard dong, a smile still playing at her lips. "I checked in some medical books this morning, just to be sure, and do you realize that you are three inches over average?" She shook her head in something like admiration. "Not only over average, but so beautifully able to come to life time after time! I'll bet I could even get another 'specimen' now if I wanted it."

"You keep up what you're doing and you're going to get one whether you want it or not," I answered. She laughed. "Is that a promise? Or a threat?"

"A mere statement of fact."

She looked deep into my eyes, her face gone serious. "I do want one, Mark. Shall I lock the door?

I just nodded my head. She released me, turning in the same motion and moving gracefully to the door. Locking it, she turned and slid out of her lab coat. The physical transition from doctor to woman started; her body, clothed, gave every indication of what it would be unclothed-and I enjoyed watching as if I were seeing it for the first time. I licked my upper lip as she kicked off a shoe, raising her skirt to undo her garter, revealing a lovely expanse of flesh. She repeated the procedure, then undid her blouse. As she slid her bra off and her lovely tits fell loose my prick did a couple of twitches. Sliding down skirt and panties at the same time, her hips came into view, her beautiful thighs, and that scrumptious mound with it's forest of blonde hair. Now she was womam all woman, ripe and fuckable.

I pushed myself up onto the narrow examining table (this was going to be something, fucking on a surface that narrow), stretching out on my back. She pushed a stool in place, stepped up onto it, put a knee on the table and then swung over me. Tits flopped against my chest as pussy met my cock and pushed it back against my belly; her body came down on mine as I slid my arms around her, and our lips met. I sent my tongue into her mouth as I started rubbing my hands up and down her smooth, firm body, feeling the sides of her globular tits, the firmness of her buttocks. She met my tongue with hers, then sent hers into my mouth, grinding her pussy down against me; the lips spread full length around my prong. It was lovely, it was beautiful, and the flames rose quickly. I grasped her hips, pushing her midriff off me; and she was as ready for it as I. She reached down between us, grasped my prick and ran it up and down her cooze a couple of times, then straightened it and began screwing her pussy down over it. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus, how good it felt as she fucked her way down, taking something extra with each stroke. It probably felt even better because I wanted to roll her over and couldn't; it. was a feeling of suspended animation, the possibility of a fall, coupled with the feeling her warm, tight cunt was giving my swollen weapon.

She had learned quickly. Her knees placed just right, she could ride down until she had every inch into her, raise up until just the head was caught, ride down again. She not only could, she did, and I started working with her merely because I had to. We got it going good, perfectly synchronized motions; then we were gasping and groaning into each others mouths as our bellies clashed together and held, the juices squirting out of my cock in maddening gushes to be met by those flowing from her animated fountain of love.

"Oh, Mark! Mark!" she cried out into my mouth, "oh, what a lovely fuck!"

I grasped her buttocks and pulled her hard again, jerking the last of my gism into her; then I fell back. Wow!

The timing had been perfect, not only because we lad reached mutual orgasm but because as she sort of melted onto my body there was a knock on the door. "Dr. Moulter?" Miss Redhead-with-the-big-tits called out.

P. H. raised her head. "Yes?"

"Doctor, we have a bit of an emergency, can you come?"

'Yes," she answered brusquely, "yes, I'll be right there."

Our eyes met and she shook her head.

"Damn!" she said, pushing her lower body up so that my cock slid out of her damp pussy. I reached out and let my fingers run the full length of her lovely tits as she raised her upper body up; then she got off the table. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, watched as she crossed to the wash basin and quickly washed her crotch. She dried it gently and began to dress.

"I won't ask you to wait ... I don't know how long it will take, but...." She looked deep into my eyes, almost pleadingly, "can you come by the apartment tonight?"

"I'll give you a call," I answered, because this visit actually hadn't solved any part of my "domestic" problem. Unless, of course, it could be called "therapy"!

Dressed, she moved to the side of the table, reached out for my cock with one hand and lowered her lips to mine. It was a brief, loving squeeze and an equally brief kiss, then the woman became doctor again and moved brusquely out of the room.

The old men were sitting at the bar with their afternoon beer. The juke box, its lights on, sat quietly against the wall, ready to open its mouth when the first coin was put in. The bartender was on his stool behind the bar; he looked up as I walked in, his face cracking into a smile. "Hi! The usual?" he asked, and I had the feeling that I had that quickly become a fixture, a regular-or at least accepted as such.

As he put the drink down in front of me he said, "I told Tim you'd been in. He was real disappointed that you didn't wait until he got here, or come back."

"Got busy," I answered.

"Well," he crawled back on his stool and rubbed his crotch, "your loss was my gain. Tim waited around, and when you didn't come back I went home with him. Wow, what a night!"

"She was just as good as you remembered, huh?" I asked, not knowing what else to say and at the same time feeling comfortable in casual banter.

"Are you kidding! She wasn't home." He chuckled. "I guess you can figure out what happened! Baby, I was hot to trot and Tim knew it, and he knew that I could blame him-so he had to produce." He laughed again. "Timmie sucked his first cock last night, and he found out he liked it! When that was over and we'd rested a little, I took his sweet little asshole cherry! Man, it was so tight, like a fifteen-year-old virgin, I'll bet he's walkin' stiff-legged today!"

"You really went for that, huh?"

"Like I said," he answered easily, "when there ain't no pussy around I'm not about to turn up my nose at a substitute-if it's decent." He grew serious. "Tim is decent, y'know. He's really a good guy. He's one fairy I don't mind having for a friend."

I remembered the well-built, blond-haired man, and I thought that I knew what he meant. Tim was a decent sort; you wouldn't know he was queer to look at or listen to him-not unless he wanted you to know. But as for going to bed with him ... no, I wasn't at all sure about that.

"It's going to be interesting," the bartender interrupted my thoughts. "I mean, it's going to be interesting to see now if Tim goes back to his old habits, or if he goes down the fairy trail now that he knows he likes it." He laughed. "Can't you see him and Trudi fighting over some guy, over who's gonna get at his meat?"

A moment later, as if he had given it deep consideration, he said seriously, "Of course, they could share. Y'know, Tim could find some guy who likes to eat pussy; then he could swing on the guy while the guy munched on Trudi. Hell," he chuckled again, "I could go for that, how about you?"

"Idunno," I answered honestly. "I've never let another guy swing on me."

"You don't know what you've missed," he answered, pushing himself to his feet because one of the old men was pounding his glass on the bar.

I had to admit to myself that I didn't know what I had missed, but I wasn't convinced that I wanted to find out. I'd had enough opportunities and always turned them down. Getting a satisfactory enough supply of poontang, I wasn't sure there was any reason to change that. Maybe if I were stranded on an island with only a guy ... well, that would be different. I'd gladly drop my pants for a male then, but ... It seemed simple enough; a woman "went down on you," that was natural, but if a guy did it he was a "cocksucker" and that was a dirty word!

It made sense even while it didn't. I decided not to pursue it. Instead I tried to decide whether I would go home or end up in P. H.'s apartment ... whether I'd risk another hassle with Laurie or go for fun and games with the awakened doctor! What positions, what activities had we overlooked last night ...? I started making a list in my own mind, checking off what we had done and making a mental note of what we hadn't. And then remembering her amusement over words, her interest in them, I put them into concrete form as if I were doing it for her.

"We didn't do the 'supported weight' position, dear doctor. That'd be with me on top of you, but us kissing while I keep my chest off you on stiffened arms, fucking away!

"We didn't do the 'fat woman' position, P. H. That'd be with you on the bed from the butt up, feet on a chair, and me standing between your legs for the fuckin'l

'We didn't do the 'sitting position.' You know, me sitting on a chair and you straddling me with my meat up that sweet, hot cooze of yours ... but then, that can be dangerous. One time when I was doing it with a hot little number, when we got to going full blast and I started shooting off, I fell flat on my ass off the chair!

"We didn't do the 'Pillow' position ... pillows under your hips so your pussy's really up in the air and when I pour it to you it goes at a real tissue tingling angle!

"We didn't..

Well, there was still a lot we could do, and it could he great not only because of her luscious body (which would be enjoyed all the more, all parts of it, from all those different angles), but because she so thoroughly threw herself into whatever we happened to be doing at the moment! God, yes, having gotten started, she was so hungry for it that she wanted to do everything at once! "Teach me, Mark, teach me the art of fucking. Teach me all about sex!"

"Oh, Mark! What a lovely fuck!" She really liked getting that ... what did she call it? ... three inches beyond average sized cock! Imagine her looking it up in a medical book, getting so interested in cock that she wanted to know all about it! Three inches beyond average....

The bartender was back, sliding up onto his stool. "Hey," I said, "do you know how long the average guy's tool is?"

He chuckled. "I'm an authority on pussy," he answered, "but when it comes to tools, I could only speak from experience. Except...." he dug under the counter, "I just happen to have a little book here!"

He pulled one out, thumbed through it, reading from here and there. "Ah, yeah, here we go. 'About six an a half inches is the average length of the erect penis, although of course larger and smaller members are not infrequent.'" He closed the book, smiling. "How about that! We're above average, all three of us!"

"Yeah, how about that!"

"I knew a hustler, once, he was, honest to god, the heaviest hung stud I'd ever seen. He had at least eleven inches once it was hard. He peddled it by the inch! Man, that was an engine! If he wanted to jerk off, he had to use both hands!" He put his thumb and index fingers together, looked at them, spread them so that there was about an inch gap. "That thing was at least that big around!"

"Christ!" I spit out, "what good did it do him? I mean, how the hell many pussies could he find that could take something like that?"

"Ah, you'd be surprised, man. There's lots of gals around who've fucked so much they got to have something that big to really get any kicks themselves! I knew one gal, she flat couldn't find a man who could satisfy her. She ended up havin' a special cock made up out of rubber...."

I didn't hear the end of his sentence. I was thinking of Laurie spread on the chair, feet up on it, and the naked Sylvia on her knees in front of her running that big rubber dong in and out of her. Sheeit! God, that'd be the same as me beating my meat. If she wanted a good fuck why didn't she just go out and get a man?!

And then I wondered. What would I do if she got with another man and I found out about it? I'd kill the bastard, I said to myself, and then several events from the last couple of days began to fit together. It was a little bit like the reels on a slot machine spinning around, clicking into position one at a time. There was me screwing Trudi, the dumb blonde and the doctor; there was Tim taking me home with him so that I could screw Trudi; and there was the awareness (even Moulter had mentioned it, defending Laurie) that Laurie probably needed to get her rocks off, too.

I smiled to myself. Laurie, baby, you need cock, I'll be a nice, understanding husband and help you with it. That I could allow-my picking out a guy for her, taking him home and getting things going. Maybe, like Tim, I could even keep a hard-on under those conditions, and if I could we could do what the bartender had suggested. Laurie could swing on my dong while the guy poured the meat to her.

At least it was worth a try-and it seemed like there might be a good possibility that it would work, because merely thinking about it had given me a full bodied hard-on.

I looked at the bartender, almost as if I were seeing him for the first time. I saw his well-developed body, from the broad shoulders down to the tapered hips, and I remembered how big his bulge had showed the day before when he'd talked himself into a hard-on, I looked into his pleasant face. "Hey, man, is there any chance of your getting off for a couple of hours?"

He smiled. "You thinkin' of a three-way between you 'nd Tim 'nd me?"

"Uh-uh," I shook my head. "I'm thinkin' of a threeway between you, my wife and me."

"You're kidding!" he said; but then he looked into my face and knew that I wasn't. "Goddamn," he said, disappointment dripping from his voice, "no, I can't. Can't you wait until I close the place up?"

"Sorry," I said, pushing myself off the stool. "Once I make up my mind, I got to move fast!" I started out.