Chapter 3
Mike and Wendy continued the sex therapy almost every night, Mike's coordination and staying power increasing as his weeks in the hospital lengthened into a month. Having nothing else to do, and doubting he could find a more beautiful and willing partner than Wendy, he tried to exercise his every muscle with every possible sex technique they could think up.
Wendy was amazed at a supposedly seventeen-year-old boy's vast sexual knowledge. Mike just tossed off her protests with, "It's this permissive education and upbringing. I read the Kama Sutra before I did Cinderella. I got my first piece of ass when I was fourteen," which was true. For Mike, not for Fred.
"You sure as hell have learned a lot in only three years."
"Well, Wendy, I'm no good at sports, but I wanted to be in the Olympics so very badly I practiced diligently night and day. Every opportunity that came my way, I took."
Wendy looked puzzled. "Olympics?"
Mike smiled and tossed out the punch line to his build up, "Yeah, the Sex Olympics in Tijuana!"
They both laughed long and hard at that. Finally, Wendy managed to contain her mirth long enough to say, "You don't have to go all the way to Mexico. I'll give you a gold medal."
Mike smiled and said, "Not yet. I still don't feel quite strong enough to properly fuck you cross-eyed. I want to see your sea-green eyes glazed with lust, begging me for more, begging me to stuff you full of my cock, pleading for me to fuck you...."
His voice drifted off as he heard the door open and Dr. Speer entered, followed by Milano and Slatten. The three dismissed Wendy, who now appeared the epitome of efficiency. Mike sighed as he watched the passionate wench, now a professional iceberg, leave. He knew she'd be back-later.
"How are you feeling today, Mr. Montague?" asked Milano.
"Fine, doctor, just fine. Here, let me show you." The assembled physicians watched as Mike went through a series of strenuous calisthenics, finishing with a deep breath. He was barely winded by his exertion.
The three scribbled like maniac Hemingways on their tablets, leaving inky hieroglyphics on the pads. They silently came and circled Mike, probing and pinching until he knew how the wagon train of settlers had felt when they had been surrounded by a band of hostile Indians shooting flaming arrows at them.
"Well, gentlemen?" Speer turned to his fellow doctors. They jotted down more incomprehensible notes.
Finally, Slatten spoke. "Physically, he seems fit. Blood pressure is 110/80, pulse rate is really fantastic. Only 68. The muscle development isn't very good...."
"Hey, doc, let me explain about that," Mike said. "Fred wasn't much on sports or keeping his body trim. He would have probably gotten a beer gut before he was thirty. If he had ever decided to even try beer. Now I keep myself in shape. Jog a mile every day and play basketball twice a week with a semi-pro team."
The three looked at each other with their oddly indecipherable glances. Milano coughed and began a long diatribe, averting his eyes from Mike's. "Mr. Montague, this is one reason why you haven't been released yet. Physically, you are in good condition. However, you seem to maintain a duplicate set of memories in certain things. You talk about yourself as if you were thirty-eight. You are only seventeen.
"Your thirty-eight year old body is not only dead, but dead and buried almost a month ago. Please! Let me talk. You are now seventeen, no matter what your memory tells you. And, for complicated reasons which I can't even begin to explain, we would all prefer you to assume the identity of your son, Frederick. We know that this body contains the brain and memory of Michael Montague, but we hope you'll see fit to go along with us in this trivial matter. We've set some very unusual precedents as to who you actually are."
Mike thought for a moment and asked, "Precedent? Yes, I suppose you did. That ambulance must have picked us up before authorized to do so. You performed an unauthorized operation. The public outcry at such a brain transplant could ruin you all if word leaked out about it. Are those the 'complicated reasons' you can't go into?" Mike shrewdly eyed the three men. Their nervousness betrayed them. He had hit the target dead on center.
Slatten continued as spokesman. "I'm not going to lie. Those are all valid reasons we would prefer to keep this quiet. But don't get any ideas about blackmailing us. We saved your life. Your son was stone cold dead when he got here, and you'll never get anyone to testify otherwise. And ... it's to your financial advantage to pretend that you are Fred.
"You have become very wealthy, Mr. Montague. Or rather, your wife has. She collected double indemnity when the coroner signed the death certificate on Michael F. Montague stating he did, indeed, die accidentally in a car wreck. She collected a quarter of a million dollars, tax free. Rock the boat and we might be able to convince the insurance company that the legal definition of death involves the cessation of brain wave patterns. Michael Montague would then still live, and Fred Montague would be dead.
"How much insurance did you carry on your Son, Mr. Montague?"
Mike knew they had him. A quarter of a million bucks? Two hundred and fifty thousand crisp, green, crinkly bills?
"Gee, doc, I don't know. My father took care of all that. Mike, my dad, was a real whiz at all that kind of stuff. Dig?"
The three wryly smiled and said, almost in unison, "Yeah, we dig. Your wife is outside, and she'd like to see you."
Mike looked at Milano, then said, "Send my ... mother ... in."
Milano looked surprised, and Mike could see him mentally chiding himself for the momentary slip. "Sorry. Your ... mother ... is waiting. We'll send her right in."
Judy Montague hesitantly entered the room. Mike greeted her effusively, "Doll! I hear we're rich!" He picked her up in his arms and spun her around as he planted a juicy kiss on her mouth.
"Fred! Put me down! I mean, Mike, uh ... oh!" She broke out in a fit of tears. Mike put his arm around her shoulder and tried to comfort her.
"Look, Judy, I'm sure the doctors explained everything. I'm still me, Mike, only I'm in Fred's scrawny body. He never used it. At least I'll get a chance to. Do you understand?"
She quietly sobbed. "No, dammit, I don't! Are you Mike or are you Fred? Are you my son or my husband? Oh, damn!" The distraught woman pulled herself free from his embrace and ran from the room.
Mike sat on the hospital bed thinking about all the problems facing him. The insurance money made it appear that it would be worth the effort to maintain the charade. And he could probably con the doctors into giving him all his medical bill on the cuff. He couldn't really lose.
And he was alive! Alive and able to see the world!
That perplexed him for a moment. Fred had worn heavy glasses with lenses that looked like the bottoms of old coke bottles. Yet Mike detected no blurry, myopic vision. He could see as well as the old Mike. Maybe it wasn't the body that connted, but the brain behind the muscles. Maybe his brain refused to cope with nearsightedness and had corrected that fault.
This seventeen-year-old boy could certainly stand a new landlord. He had loved his son, but Fred just didn't live up to what Mike considered manly behavior patterns. That argument about girls, for instance. Fred was a complete waste at sports. Fred was pretty close to being a zero in the equation of life.
Mike would change all that.
He spun at the faint sound of crinkly material sliding into the room. He saw that red-haired bombshell, Wendy, standing there.
At least Fred's body was normal in its response to a sexy woman. Mike felt his penis hardening into a usable, fun-filled cock.
"Hello, doll. Still hot for me to fuck you cross-eyed?"
She shook her hair loose as she removed that silly-looking nurse's cap. "Still the same old reprobate, I see. I'll never know how you can have a teenager's body and the filthy mind of a senile old codger."
"I work hard at it, Wendy, my love. I'm being released tomorrow. Did you know that?"
She seemed momentarily crushed. "Yes, that's why I came in. Do you need any more 'therapy' before you leave?" The eagerness with which she said it showed she was eager to be fucked by the old/young man with the steely erection.
The nurse no longer showed the icy, polar exterior as she passionately clutched him to her supple body. She sniffed a bit as she said, "I'm going to miss you. It isn't very often I get someone who is so gentle and ... willing to go along with my sexual needs. You can't believe what tensions build up trying to appear calm and collected when you are a confused, upset mess inside. And those doctors! All of them are lechers, pinching my rear and ... ouch!"
Mike innocently looked down at her and declared, "It had to be one of those lecherous doctors that pinched your ass. Poor, innocent little Freddie Montague would never do anything like that!"
"The hell you wouldn't!" she stormed. "You're as bad as the rest of them!"
"No, I'm not!" cried Mike. "I'm worse! Until I can get you into that bed. Then I'll show you I'm better than the entire lot of them!"
"A seventeen-year-old braggart ... who knows how to please a lovely woman. Shut up and strip for me. Slow!" he commanded in a stern voice.
The very tone of Mike's voice shocked her into obeying without question. She was unused to a teenager having that self-assured outlook, the command quality in his voice that demanded and received absolute obedience.
She obeyed. Slowly. Wendy carefully unfastened each button of her blouse and pulled the veiling fabric out from under her belt as she turned her back to Mike. Wendy then slowly, sinuously wiggled out of her blouse, first exposing one milky white shoulder, then the other. The blouse seemed to fall off her arms in slow motion to expose the smooth expanse of her back, divided by the chalky white strap of her bra.
She reached back to unfasten it and, as she did, she looked over her shoulder at Mike. Her wet, pink tongue creeped around her lips, sensuously wetting them, inviting him to sample their delights.
Mike watched. Outwardly he was impassive. Inside, however, he was feeling the ancient stirring of pure lust for a truly voluptuous woman.
Wendy undid the bra, writhed out of it and tossed it to Mike, spinning round and round like a sexy, shapely top. Mike caught sight of the twin red tips of her tits and the jiggling, bouncing motion of her jugs. She stopped her pirouette and faced him. With the centrifugal motion no longer pulling her creamy' melons away from her body, the twin peaks sagged slightly. Not much, but enough for Mike to know that Wendy was at her prime now. Ripe. Luscious and lustful. Another few years and her boobs would start to sag like overfilled milkbags.
But it was for now that he lived. He reveled in the sleek appearance of her flanks, the jiggling dance of her tits, the provocative leer that lingered on her lips.
She climbed out of her skirt with far more grace than Mike would have thought possible. She unsnapped her garter belt and, like a feminine slingshot, snapped it at him. He grabbed it and yanked it out of her hands. She started to peel off the rough, white stockings but Mike stopped her.
"Leave them on. I like to fuck a woman wearing stockings. But get those Godawful cotton panties off. NOW!"
In a smooth, fluid motion, the offending panties landed on top of her skirt and blouse. She stood before him, stocking-clad legs invitingly spread, awaiting his further commands.
She slowly advanced to him, arms outstretched in open invitation. His eyes drank in her beauty. Those legs were even better than he had hoped. Soon they would be locked around his waist as he sank his iron-hard rod far into her juicy, tight pussy. He watched her bush, that flaming red pubic hair covered bush, glide toward him. It appeared even redder in contrast with the bone-white stockings and the milky smoothness of her belly.
But his eyes kept going back to her plump, fully fleshed ass. He loved asses. Holding them, squeezing them, running his fingers between the asscheeks into that humid, dank crease until he found the incredibly tight little muscle guarding a woman's rear passage to her belly.
He considered taking her in the ass. But Wendy was hot to have his cock buried in her pussy. He couldn't disappoint her. Not after all she had done to aid in his rapid recovery to full manhood. Her therapy had brought him full control over Fred's body in a surprisingly short time. Mike chuckled at old Siggy Freud. The guy had been right about sex being the real motivating factor in human behavior. If it hadn't been for the beautiful, sexy and willing nurse, he might still be trying to gain control over his legs and arms.
With her as both incentive and reward, it had been easy!
Mike quickly tossed off the loose hospital gown and showed Wendy his raging hard-on. It hurt with the intensity of his need to be inside her cunt, blasting his come into her yarning interior.
But Mike had spent hours jerking off in an effort to learn to control himself. He'd see how effective that extra-curricular "therapy" was now.
He pulled Wendy down to the bed and passionately kissed her slightly opened mouth. His lips crushed her lush, full petal-like lips and soon insinuated his tongue into her mouth. He caressed and stroked her tongue with his, feeling the damp and dank underside. The humid cavern seemed to heat up as he played and frolicked in that ivory-guarded fastness, rolling and tumbling, tongue on tongue in erotic oral acrobatics.
He tasted her sweet saliva as he began to suck on her lower lip. Soon, the flesh trembled and quivered. Placing his hand on her left breast, he found that even here the flesh was shaking in anticipation of what was to come later.
Mike knew that such a sensitive, passion-wracked woman must have earlobes worthy of attention. He pulled his tongue from her mouth with a slight sucking slurpy noise as Wendy applied suction to keep his organ of taste locked in her mouth. Mike quickly moved to her ear and plunged his hot, saliva drenched tongue far into the tiny channel, then wiggled it like a spastic snake. His hot breath sensitized the ear to an almost painful level for the woman. When he began to nibble and lick her earlobe, a shuddery sigh escaped her lips, and Wendy arched her back to thrust her body against his-hard.
All the while he was delving into her ear and whispering soothing little words, his hands roved over her luscious body. One hand found a convenient resting spot high atop a mound of female flesh. He squeezed and manipulated the pliant tit, trying to reform it into some other shape. The task was impossible but Mike loved the feel of Wendy's titflesh flowing between his fingers like putty.
His other hand strayed below her waist and slowly pushed through the jungle of her fiery red pubic thatch. The soft fleecy down was rapidly becoming a soggy mass from the huge flow of cunt juices pouring out of the wanton woman's pussy.
The feel of all that lust oozing from between Wendy's thighs quickened Mike's pulse. His breathing became tortured until he managed to smooth it out into deep, gusty breaths!
Each exhalation into Wendy's seashell-like ear pushed her up the glorious slopes of orgasm. Her body continually shook now, the ill-suppressed need for a man, a real he-man, betraying her.
Mike soon tired of the relatively featureless ear and licked his way down Wendy's jawline to her throat. At the base of her throat, he kissed and licked with his rugose oral digit. He could feel her Adam's apple bob up and down every time she swallowed. And that was often, now that he was slowly exciting her like she had never before been stimulated.
Too many of the men in her life had been of the "Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am!" school of fucking. Mike was more experienced. He wanted complete and total domination of his women. He liked them to quiver at his touch. Beg him for his cock. Plead for him to fuck them hard and long. Without the proper f oreplay, the right building of sexual tensions, an intensely passionate, willing and responsive woman could lie under a man like a corpse.
Mike didn't know if there was anything wrong with necrophilia. He had never tried it, and he never knocked anything he hadn't done at least once. But he was vastly more excited by the prospect of a willing, warm and wiggly wench under him, moaning out her passions, giving him pleasure as he dished it out to her. He most assuredly didn't want any woman he fucked to just lie there, bored, unexcited, as uninterested as if ) she had been a corpse.
He knew all those sex instruction books about the desirability of simultaneous orgasm were so much bullshit. He could satisfy both himself and his woman and he knew it. What difference did it make if they both climaxed at the same time?
The only thing Mike really tried hard to achieve was a good fuck. Each and every time. He had to feel he was doing his best. And so far, he had never gone off half-cocked.
He arrived for a close-up look at her scrumptious, delectable jugs. He slowly ran his tongue around the perimeter of one of those high thrusting cones. Wendy began to tremble as if she had an erotic epilepsy as Mike slowly and agonizingly made his way up one of those snowy white slopes.-He circled and spiralled around her tit using his tongue to blaze a wide, wet trail.
The saliva-wet region behind marked every square inch of her skin on the sensitive slope that he touched. As he reached the crest with its ruddy, cobble-stoned plain, he pounced on the now erect nipple and shoved it into his mouth with the hunger of a man almost starved to death.
That hard little mushroom was the best tasting morsel he had ever tried. Mike sucked and licked across the aureole and felt the heart beating just inches under this mountain of flesh. He teased and tickled the pebble held captive by both tongue and teeth. Wendy groaned and arched her back, shoving more of her boob into his mouth.
Mike opened his jaws and the pillowy tit came surging in. He accepted it a small bit at a time. Finally, the point was reached where Mike's teeth were leaving red welts on the alabaster white flesh. Rather than discourage Wendy from trying to force the entire demiglobe into his mouth, he encouraged it because it seemed to drive her into a frenzy of wiggling and writhing motion. She shoved her chest upward into his awaiting mouth with even greater fervor than before.
He almost took the entire melon-like hill of tit into his oral cavity. His teeth cut cruelly into her flesh, and his jaws were strained to the utmost, but Wendy didn't seem to even notice. If she was feeling pain, it was so confused with the intense pleasure messages being forced into her brain that she could not separate the two.
Pleasure/pain, pain/pleasure, what was the difference?
He slowly squirted the tortured boob out of his mouth. Wendy raised her eyelids and peered at him with lust-glazed eyes and demanded, "Don't stop! That's sooooo nice! Ohhhhh, yessss!"
Mike had begun a similar program of sensual improvement on her other, up to now neglected hillock. He continued sucking and kissing, caressing and fondling, biting and laving with saliva until he was out of breath.
Wendy's breath had started to come in short, staccato bursts. She sounded like an erotic machine gun, so uneven was her breathing rhythm.
His tongue lolled in the deep valley between her breasts, hot and wet, recovering for further activity. He tasted the salt of her perspiration, and, pressing his ear against her tit, could hear the lub-dubbing of her rapidly beating heart. Overlaying all of this was the silky smooth feel of her skin, now slick with sweat, and the unbelievably sensual perfume of a woman aroused. The subtle, undefinable musk odor assailed and titillated Mike's nostrils.
He knew he was truly exciting her. In fact, he was sure that an orgasm for her was just a grope away.
Rested from his eager activity on her boobs, Mike began moving down Wendy's body toward the sexual Bermuda triangle of her cunt where he intended to become totally lost.
He kissed and licked his way across the smooth, flat, well muscled stomach until he discovered the deep depression of her navel. He paused, wondering at its depth. His tongue leaped out and descended into the nurse's belly button, intent on plummeting to the very bottom. He found the end of his search and then swirled his tongue around and around until he felt the once cool and reserved nurse churn in response to his stirring oral digit.
Mike kissed this tiny depression and headed for a larger hole, one which would lead into Wendy's distant, seething volcano of an interior. On the way down to her gash, he passed first over her pubic mound covered with that fiercely red pubic hair that so attracted him. It wasn't a dull, mousy red-brown combination. It wasn't the fake carrot red of a circus clown's fright wig. It was honest to God flaming red. Irish red, fiery, passionate, wonderfully sexy vibrant cardinal red. RED!
He wiggled his nose in the soggy mat and deeply inhaled the freshness of the aroma. How he loved the smell of a woman!
Afraid to linger too long, Mike finally slid down between the twin marble pillars of Wendy's fabulous thighs. His erection began to quiver and jerk at the thought of being entrapped by those wonderful thighs. Thighs and asses, those were his turn-ons.
The thighs guarded the luscious cunt, the ass rolled and flowed out around the tiny asshole. Those two ports into a woman's interior were what counted. He didn't discount the mouth, especially Wendy's, which had given his cock so much pleasure and needed relief. But between a woman's legs were the areas he enjoyed most. This was the ultimate goal for Mike. He needed to cram his cock into a gushing snatch or an incredibly tight asshole. The indescribable pleasure he derived from being surrounded by a woman's body was the basis for his continual interest in sex.
There were so many ways to approach a cunt or an asshole. So many wondrous variations on a theme. And after he got to his destination, there were an almost infinite number of ways of entering and stimulating his cock.
Ah, woman! Mike could not think of anything else he would rather possess.
He felt his cock expand ever more at the sight of Wendy's flowing cunt. He lapped and licked up her cunt juices as a man lost in the desert would drown himself in the water of an oasis. Mike thrust his tongue past the blood-filled outer labia and slowly dragged his tongue along the scalloped, tender inner lips. If Wendy had been hot before, she was a white-hot bomb waiting to explode in orgasm now.
Mike took his time slowly circling the exterior of her slit to excite her even further. When her shy little clitoris finally poked its head up out of its fleshy sheath, Mike pounced on it. He took it into his mouth like he had her nipples. He sucked. He licked. He lightly scored its short length with his teeth. His breath gusted out and tickled her pubic hair while his stubble coated chin ground against Wendy's perineum. If she had an ember smoldering in her belly, it had grown to a raging fire by now!
Mike slowly and excruciatingly slid his tongue along her gash, savoring the flavor of woman wine. He moved back along her sensitive perineum and tried to poke his tongue into her asshole.
The tight, greedy little anal sphincter muscle refused to budge. It desired nothing of this oral invader. Mike didn't want to take the time to coax the reluctant guardian to relax and allow him entry.
Mike now felt that burning sensation mount in his own groin. The feeling that his balls were a pressure cooker without a safety valve. That he was going to erupt at any instant. He had to get into Wendy.
He climbed back up the struggling woman's body as if she were a tree. He commanded her, "Spread 'em! Open your legs!"
As she obeyed, she mumbled through passion-numbed lips, "Christ, Freddie, take me! Ram hard into me! Fill me with that huge cock of yours!"
Wendy had raised her legs and her slit opened in invitation to Mike's turgid cock. His spear drove directly for its target. He caught the outer lips and folded them into her cunt as he plunged far into her.
She sucked in her breath and screamed out, "Yessss! Fuuck meeee! Rammmitttt! HARD! Fuck my cunt!"
Mike grunted with the exertion of his powerful initial thrust into that seething, bubbling volcano that was her cunt. Mike was no longer thinking in rational, easy-to-follow thought patterns.
All he knew for sure was that this was one of the tightest, hottest, wettest cunts he had ever been plugged into. She began moving her knees back and forth like butterfly wings.
Each time her knees went out, Mike felt an incredible tightening of an already snug cunt. The pressure along his length made him feel as if he had gotten trapped in a velvet-lined vise. Wendy's cuntal muscles were well trained, and they clutched and grabbed at his cock with fierce determination.
She didn't want him to leave his safe, snug haven far inside her belly.
Mike began extracting his tool, slowly, against great suction. He came free with a lewd, obscene sucking noise. The instant his arrowhead emerged from Wendy's depths, he rammed back into her as hard as he could. This time his thrusting was so strong, he felt the very tip of his cock touch her deeply hidden cervix.
Both man and woman were constantly moaning out their intense passions. Mike began a slow, rhythmical humping and Wendy shrieked out her pent-up feelings.
Mike plunged time and again into her boiling cauldron of carnality, rotating his hips and stirring her to even higher peaks of sensation. He wanted her strung out to the breaking point. He didn't want her to ever forget him or his cock. He may have a seventeen-year-old body, but he had the fucking ability of a thirty-eight-year-old expert. And that expertise had been developed over almost two and a half decades of diligent practice with hundreds of different women.
As he rocked back and forth avidly screwing her yearning cunt, Mike felt the liquid warmth sloshing out of her love tunnel and dribbling down onto his balls. The little furred sac that contained his precious jewels had contracted into a tight sphere in anticipation of ejaculation. Wendy's juices tickled and excited him, and the sensation pushed him close to the edge. He was nearing orgasm.
Mike reached down and took both of Wendy's breasts in his hands. As he squeezed the modeling clay-like flesh, he took the nipples between thumb and forefinger and rolled the buttons back and forth. His reward was a low, deep moan from the nurse before a long shuddery wave passed from one end of her body to the other.
The mailed grip of orgasm locked all her muscles in that strange rictus of pleasure and blotted out the entire world except for Mike's cock crammed into her cunt, filling her to overflowing. The delicate membrane of her vaginal walls transmitted his heat and quivering and stroking to her brain. The pressure against her clit finally triggered her climax.
She screamed and as she did, her cuntal muscles wildly grabbed the man-stalk in its fluid channel. Mike gulped and bent his back as he felt the surge of a hot tidal wave hurl along his cock.
His pressurized balls had blown their load, and the superheated white opalescent come drenched and bathed Wendy's cunt. Star shells exploded in Mike's mind and gut. He rocked and rode with the hurricane winds wracking his body as he mindlessly rammed in and out of the nurse's manhole.
Finally, the unrelenting grip of orgasm died in Mike, and the world came back into focus. He looked down at the woman in which his cock still rigidly lay. Wendy was beautiful. There was no denying that. Red hair covered the pillow on the hospital bed, her eyes half closed in post-coital dreaminess. The voluptuous body that he had just possessed was slowly returning to its normal rate of breathing.
Mike stared down between his legs and saw his once proud cock become detumescent and limply fall from the come-filled cunt.
It had been one hell of a good fuck. Mike was sure that Wendy would not soon forget the seventeen-year-old kid who had given her the screwing of her twenty-four-year-old life.
And she didn't.