Chapter 4
All my hard years of training were finally paying off. I never had imagined that psychiatry could be so much fun. Yes, I felt like I was a sexual madman, but I loved every minute of it. For the few weeks that followed, I didn't think about how I might be ruining my career. I thought only of my lust, and how I could best express it.
I continued seeing Jeannette. I had her convinced that my methods were truly going to help her... and each session I found new perverted ways to have sex with her. I honestly believed I was helping the girl, because she started to come into the office with a smile, and she began dressing like she knew she was a woman. Dorothy had turned into a real winner. Each session, she needed no encouragement at all. I had convinced her how much she loved sex, and we proved it every hour we had together. She was up to about 70% cure.
My evenings of course, as usual, continued to be sexual delights for me with Alice. She continued to provide me with assortments of sex that made my cock reel. And yes, we continued to see John and Ginger from next door. We had a couple of nights with them that could be turned into a great sex novel.
But I still wasn't satisfied. I wanted more. Jeannette and Dorothy I saw two days of the working week. But that left three days open. Three horny days without sex. I had to fill the time gaps. I needed it every day and every night.
I did something that psychiatrists are not supposed to do. I advertised in some of the underground newspapers. It was a quack's method of getting patients, but I didn't care. I was desperate to have more beauties at my disposal. Tuesdays, Wednesday and Fridays were just too dull.
I spent a good deal of time composing the ad for the newspapers. I wanted to be sure I got what I wanted. My advertisement read: YOUNG, ATTRACTIVE FEMALES who are having problems with parents, lovers, job, guaranteed help. Professional man specializes in this area. Initial consultation free. No 'sex play. On the up and up. BOX 15567 New York.
The advertisement ran in three different underground papers and in one week's time, I had received fifteen letters. The bit about "no sex play" was a come on, of course. I knew once I got them in my office I could amend that line. The problem was, I had neglected to tell them to send photos. The initial batch of girl's I screened could hardly be described as atttractive. And two of them were over forty. I did the screening during my lunch hour, and after a week, I was disgusted with the results.
So I reran the ad, this time demanding photo. It was much easier that way, although, as I suspected, a lot of horny old ladies sent snapshots taken years ago when they were in their prime. At any rate, though I still interviewed a few dogs, I was able to screen out the baddies much faster.
After about three weeks... I managed to select three gals to my liking. All were indeed young and attractive. All needed help. Who doesn't? I fit one into the Tuesday slot, one into the Wednesday slot, one into Friday's. A fuck a day. Or more, if time allowed.
The Tuesday, three o'clock slot was filled by Tina. She was a senior at City College and was having trouble studying. She wanted to be a psychologist, but with her poor study habits she was worried she couldn't get into grad school. The way she was built, guys would pay her just to walk down the street. She didn't need grad school. But if that's what she wanted, it was my job to help her.
She looked like a young Sophia Loren. Italian, with wild black hair. Big tits. Solid and fleshy. Sophia for sure. Except for the horn-rimmed glasses she wore. I suppose wearing them made her feel more intellectual. My method with Tina was really quite simple. I told her not to focus on her grades, but to focus on her professional desire -- to be a psychologist. I told her that since I was a psychiatrist -- and had so much experience -- I could help her with her goal.
The method? Lovely. When she came into my office -- for the first session -- I suggested that she take my recliner and I lay down on the couch.
"Do all psychiatrists do that?" she asked.
"Of course not. But you have a unique problem. I think perhaps you are resisting the thought of being a psychologist. Deep down, of course."
"Of course," she said. She tried to impress me with the fact that she. knew all there was to know about this process called analysis. "Of course, you must be right," she said, "I suppose I'm repressing my conflicts."
"Yes, probably," I said. We spoke the same language. "Now, my idea is that if you play like you're a psychologist... and let me be your patient... why then, you can see what it really feels like. This way you can under-stand whether this is what you really want to do with your life. Or whether you're just kidding yourself."
"An excellent suggestion," she said, "shall we switch seating now?"
"Let's do it now," I said.
I got off my recliner and went to the couch, laying down. She took my own seat, and leaned back.
"How does it feel?" I asked. "I mean... do you like the feeling?"
"It's really very exciting. Yes, I feel like a real, live psychologist. What do we do now?"
"Now you try and help me with my problem," I said. "Don't you want real practice? Let's see how well you do with a difficult problem."
"Okay, shoot," she said.
"Wrong phrase," I corrected, lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling. You've got to pick more delicate words with your parents. You don't say, 'Okay shoot.' You say, 'How are you feeling now?' or 'Just let yourself go. Don't hold back.' Something like that. Got it?"
"Mmmm hmmm, " she said.
"Oh, that's excellent," I said, "I like the way you use your Mmmm hmmm's."
She crossed her legs. "Tell me a little about your problem."
"Yes, well, it's very difficult to talk about it."
There was a long silence.
I continued. "Now, don't let the silences drag like that. Use the silences to make the patient feel more at ease. Remember, you're making a lot of money now... and you can't expect to let the patient feel comfortable paying you if you're not going to say anything. He wants something for his money."
"I see," she said. "Well... why is this so difficult to talk about? Please, feel comfortable with me. I'm trying to help."
"Good," I said, "Yes, well I have this problem with sex. Can't control these feelings. Every time I get with a female I want to make it with her. Do you think there's any hope for me?"
"Yes. That's why I'm seeing you."
"Well, when I came in today DOCTOR," I thought she'd enjoy that, "the only thing I had on my mind was fucking you. Fucking you."
"What?... " she said. She was alarmed.
"There now, Tina. You'll come across this all the time with patients. They always use dirty words. And they'll all want to make it with you. You've got to know how to handle yourself in these kinds of situations. Remember... everything goes in your office." I emphasized the word "your." I knew she liked that.
"Well," she sighed, "go on then. Why do you... want to fuck me. Doctor... are you sure it's all right for me to use those words?"
"Quite all right."
"Okay. Just curious. Now... why do you want to fuck me?"
"Well, doctor," I said, putting my hands through my hair, like this was really tough going... revealing all these feelings about myself, "It's your tits. I always had a thing for tits. Mom had big ones. And ever since I stopped sucking on mother's, I've had the desire to suck on everyone else's. Please doctor... can I suck on your tits?"
Pause. Then, "What do I do now?" she asked helplessly.
"Why, you let the patient do as he chooses. You can't worry about those things in here. Remember, everything goes."
"You're... not going to ask me to suck my tits... not really... are you?"
"You bet your horn-rimmed glasses I am. Do you want practice or don't you?"
"Yes, of course," she said.
"Fine."
I got up and came over to her. "Oh, doctor," I said, "please expose your breasts so I can suck on them. I'm so thirsty for them. I'm mad for them."
"I suppose I expose them?"
"Of course."
Tina undid her blouse. She didn't have a bra on. Wow.
"Oh, doctor. They're so beautiful. They hang there so pretty. Let me just suck quietly. I won't disturb you."
I sat on the edge of the recliner, and bending down put one of her breasts in my mouth. "Mmmmmmm" I said, "good." Her nipples jutted up in my mouth. Maybe she was better than Sophia. What tits.
"Ooooh," I said, "they're so good. But, now can I look at your snatch. Mother always let me look at hers when I asked."
"I suppose now I show you my... snatch."
"You're doing very well. Yes. You show it to me. Mustn't upset the patient by not giving him what he wants."
Tina undid her skirt and lowered it. In a moment, garter belt, hooks, hose, skirt and panties were off. Aaaah.
"Oooooh doctor, I'm so glad you're letting me see your snatch. I love to look at it. And I especially like the way your pussy hairs curl like that. Is it the dampness down there that makes the black hairs curl so nicely?"
"Now what do I say?"
"Answer any way you like."
"Yes. It must be the dampness down there," Tina said.
"Oh, yes. My my. When I touch it... it really is wet. Mommy always let me touch her when I asked. You don't mind... do you?"
"No."
"Oooh, and it's so much fun to stick my finger inside... like this. Oh doctor, this is such a good session. I think I'm becoming happy thanks to you."
"I'm glad for you," Tina said.
"I'm glad for me, too," I said, letting my finger get as far inside her as I possibly could. "And... can I eat you? I'd really like to do that. I can almost taste it now." I wasn't kidding, of course.
"I suppose I say okay."
"You say okay."
"Okay."
I ate her. Oh, sweet, fruity tasting wetness. I chewed away at her pussy. Sucked her lips and clit. Took little bites. Swallowed her yummy come.
"Yummy," I said.
"Now what do I do?" she asked.
"Ask me how I feel."
"How do you feel?"
"Great. Just great. But now doctor," I knew she loved the sound of that word. It filled her up with pride. As long as I called her doctor I could get away with anything. "Now, doctor, I want to shove it in. That is... if it's all right. Is it?"
"I say yes, I suppose."
"You say yes."
"Yes." Faster than a speeding bullet I had my clothes off, joining her in the nude. I climbed on top of her, with the recliner all the way back, and let my prick enter.
"Ask me how it feels."
"How does it feel?"
"Mmmmmm," I said. It was a bit awkward on the recliner -- I don't believe it was made for this purpose -- but I don't mind taking a little pain with my pleasure. My arm was twisted up under her back, but it didn't matter much. The important thing was my cock was happy. Couldn't be happier. It tunneled in and out faster and faster.
"What do I do now?" Tina asked, her body getting the assaulting of her life.
"You come."
My Wednesday four o'clock session was filled with a lovely Oriental gal. She was working at a few burlesque houses as a stripper and was making pretty good money. Her problem was that -- because she was Japanese-she felt she didn't belong. She thought everybody saw her as an outsider. She felt out of place with Americans. One day, she wanted to return to her home when she had save enough money. She made a lot... but she blew it all on clothes, and hairdo's... things like that... anything so she could feel accepted. But nothing seemed to work. She was unhappy. She felt like a stranger. She wanted me to help her feel accepted.
A thorny problem, perhaps. But a simple solution. Oh, I was getting masterful at solutions.
"Now, you say you feel different than everyone?" I asked her.
"Yes." Her lovely, slanted eyes made her a delicate catch. They sparkled when she spoke.
"What makes you feel so different?"
She tucked her legs under her skirt. "I don't know exactly. I suppose it's because I'm Japanese. I mean, people can tell right away. It's one reason I do burlesque shows. The lights are always low, so none of the guys really get a good look at my face. For all they know... I'm just a Brooklyn born girl showing it all."
"And do you show it all," I asked eagerly.
"All. Today, you've got to. They demand it."
"Mmmmm, hmmmmm. Yes. Well, it is a ticklish problem. But I think I can help."
"How, doctor. I don't want to have this problem any more. It makes everything so uncomfortable for me.
"Well, Suki," I wasn't sure if I pronounced it right, "What we've got to do here is prove to you that you're no different from every other person. No different than every other female."
"But I feel so different."
"Yes, that's your problem. But we can cure you here. It won't be difficult. The thing is to focus on where you're not different. Get to understand where you're like every other female."
"It seems reasonable."
"Of course it is. Now. Breasts. Do you have them?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Let me see."
"But you know I have them."
"I know. But I'm trying to prove to you that you're no different. Please, show me your breasts."
Suki flipped off her sweater and bra and held her chest out. Her tits were small, like little fruits, with a cherry popped up on top of each.
"Now, what's different about them?" I asked.
"Well, nothing, I suppose."
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. You have a vagina?"
"What a silly question."
"Show it to me."
"Why? I get paid for doing that."
"Well, I get paid for doing this. Because I'm helping you. Trying to have you see that you're no different at all. It's all in your sick, neurotic mind. Now, please show me your vagina."
The rest of the clothes came off. Sitting on the edge of the couch she turned slightly toward me, separating her legs, exposing a thin line of pussy hair and a crack just made for fucking.
"Now, what's different about that?" I asked, almost panting.
"I didn't say it was different. I said I feel different."
"Well, we're working with the basics here. You've shown me your breasts. Nothing different about them. You've shown me your vagina. Nothing different about that. But how about your reactions? Are they any different?"
"What do you mean, my reactions?"
"For example. Do your nipples harden when they are stroked by a man?"
"Why, yes." She was lovely, sitting there naked, with her legs crossed. The Orient produced some good stuff.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I'm sure."
"Show me."
"How?"
I got up and went over to the couch, sitting next to her. With my left hand I tweaked a nipple so it popped right up, "There now," I said, "nothing unusual about that. Is there?"
"Well, you can see you're really no different in built or reaction from other females. And obviously your problem is a make believe one."
"It's not make believe. I still feel different," she said.
I edged closer to her. Well, let's continue our little experiment, shall we? Let us see just what is different about you. How about your clitoris? Does it swell up when it's stroked?"
"I don't know. I guess so."
"You don't know?"
I reached for the mirror hanging over the couch and set it on its side against the couch.
"Come over here a minute... in front of the mirror. Let us find out about this reaction."
She came over, and sat on the carpet right in front of the mirror.
"Now spread your legs so you can see you own vagina. I'm going to stroke your clitoris, and you tell me if it swells up and gets erect. If it doesn't, you may have good reason for feeling different."
I sat to the side of her, so that both of us could be seen clearly in the mirror. I reached my hand over between her lovely little legs and placed a finger on her clit. I rolled it back and forth, with little squeezes. She parted her legs wider to make my motions easier.
"Can you see it?" I asked. "Is it getting swollen?"
"Yes. I think so. I never did this before. I mean... watch a man touch me in front of a mirror. I find it quite exciting."
"And that, too, is a natural reaction."
I shoved my thumb up her hole. It slid in gracefully without resistance. I wiggled it around inside of her.
"Normal reaction, there, too," I said. "You're wet... very wet... and that means that you certainly have no problem in that department." I wiggled my thumb faster. "It means that you're certainly no different in this area."
Her eyes were glued to the mirror. She was fascinated watching me play with her cunt. She leaned back on her elbows and spread her legs even wider.
"Now. For the last phase of the experiment."
"What's that?" she inquired. I knew she knew. "Intercourse. There are certain very specific reactions every woman is supposed to have. I'd be interested to know whether you have the same. If you do, then your problem is simply psychological, and that's the easiest kind of problem to deal with."
I removed my clothes as hastily as I could, then sat behind her, propping her cunt on my prick, so that we both sat facing the mirror.
"Oh, this is fun," she said.
"I'm not doing it for fun. This is business."
The Japanese do have style. The little thing swiveled her hips in tiny circular motions, forcing my prick deep into her. I suppose all those burlesque gyrations give a girl good practice for sex. Or is it the other way around? Faster and faster she rotated her hips. Together, we watched as my cock disappeared into her. I placed my hands around her tiny waist and bumped her up and down on top of me.
"Breathing," I said. "Yours is irregular. Short. That's quite normal."
"Oh, good," she said.
"Your cunt. Wet. Very normal."
"Oh, that's good, too."
"Your breasts. Fuller. Firmer. And the nipples are as hard as they can get."
"That's normal, too?" she said.
"Yes." And we continued sliding and sloshing quicker and quicker.
"Your skin. Damp with perspiration. An excellent sign. It means your body is accepting the sex act. Very normal."
"I'm pleased."
"Muscle tone," I said. I let my hands work over her tiny shoulders her little tits, her stomach, her legs. "Tense, yet relaxed,... that's a most natural kind of response."
"You think I'm normal, then?"
"Look at yourself in the mirror. You look excited. Your body is flipping and flopping like it's supposed to under these circumstances. Wouldn't you say that's normal?"
"Yes. I guess I would."
"Me too."
She had a little body but a big cunt. It ate up my whole hard cock without a problem. The kid moved like a dancer. It was a gas watching in the mirror. I guess I felt like a peeping torn, spying on someone else doing it. I squinted so I couldn't define myself that well. Yes, that was excellent. It was like I was watching another couple at it.
"Now. The last reaction. Let's test it out."
"And what's that?" she asked, still working the fire on my bone.
"Orgasm. Let's see how you do on that one."
"Oh, I'm good at that. That's a fun one."
The girl had a special timing mechanism. Fantastic. She could have her come the second she wanted it. Immediately, she thrust both legs apart and together, apart and together, and took a deep breath, like she was about to go diving in the water. Then she raised both hands in the air -- I don't know what she did this for, maybe a Japanese custom -- and then she came. Fast, tiny quivers all over her body. What control. It lasted for about five minutes.
"How did I respond?" she asked.
I was too busy myself to respond. To her question, that is. Her little body took an enormous quantity of my come. Jesus. I'd never done it with an Oriental before. For a moment, I thought of the possibility of setting up my practice in Okinawa. Just Japanese gals.
"So?" she repeated. "How was my response?"
"Perfectly normal," I said, slipping my cock from her hot hole. "Perfectly normal. Now, we know for sure that there is nothing different about you at all."
"What about my eyes?" she asked, still staring at herself in the mirror, "they're a dead give away. What I do about them?"
"Oh, you'd have to see a plastic surgeon about that," I said, "that's not the line I'm in. But our time's up. We'll talk about it next week."
My Friday hour -- four o'clock to allow me extra time if I needed it -- was a masseuse. A big, beautiful black gal who had a parlor in Midtown Manhattan. She charged almost as much as I did -- twenty-five an hour. But she explained to me that everything was on the up and up. No hanky-panky. No fooling around with the customers. If they wanted more... "Ah'd kick their asses out," she said. All male clientele. A towel was required. She said she had a large sign with bold letters over her massage table. It read: "NO BALL TOUCHING HERE NO COCK TOUCHING HERE NO TOUCHING ME HERE" Those were the rules. And heartbreaking rules at that, because Sarah was a traffic stopper. Her ass danced. Her tits swung. And her face was round and soft... the kind you like to look at when your coming. But no touchy. House rules.
If a guy's towel started climbing up, it was his problem. It always happened, she said. But she ignored it.
"If they's so damn horny, they can jerk off when I's through," she said.
Her problem was simple. She was a Lesbian. Men didn't do a thing for her. As a matter of fact, they disgusted her. She lived with another woman, but the two of them argued furiously. In fact, Sarah argued with everybody. She had a sharp tongue and a mean vocabulary, and used them freely.
"You gonna tell me how to get some happiness out a life?" she demanded.
"I'm not in the habit of making guarantees with my patients."
"Don't give me no jive. I ain't blowin' no money for a lot of bull! Ah' works too hard for my dough. Workin' on men all day. Listen! You gonna get me some happiness or ain't you?"
She was a live one. Every time she said something her tits bobbled around under her sweater.
"A psychiatrist doesn't give his patients happiness. He guides them, so they can find it themselves."
"More jive talk! You gonna help me or not?" Her big, gorgeous eyes shot over at me.
"I'll certainly try."
"Well, let's get on with it. What you gonna do for me?"
"Let's start with your problem."
"I ain't got no problem. I's just unhappy."
"You like women don't you?"
"That's ain't no problem. It's a gas, baby. You been with women, ain't you, Doc? You know what a time you have have with a chick!"
"Did you ever make it with a man?" I asked.
"Yeh. Two guys made it with me. Ah didn't want it, though. They took me by force. One of my customers and one a' his friends. He wanted me to give him a blow job, and I pointed to the sign. He got angry. When I's through workin', him and his friend grab me, takes me in their car. They drived me somewhere out in the country and did me in the back seat. First one. Then the other. Other than that, I never made it with no man. Don't need that kind of action."
"You know why you don't like men, don't you?"
"Ah' don't know and I don't care. I just want a little happiness."
"The way to get happiness is to know why you don't like men."
"More jive talk. You gonna get me some happiness or ain't you?"
I was hoping I could grab a little myself. But this beauty was tough. Her nipples stuck out hard from her sweater. I was encouraged.
"I'll tell you why you don't like men. You're afraid of them. It's a psychological fact."
"Bull! I ain't afraid of no man. I ain't afraid of nothin'. When I was a kid... I liked the dark. Ah'll walk through any park, any time o' night. I can take of myself. I ain't afraid of no man." She scratched her left breast. I was jealous.
"You're pretending," I said, trying to work her up, "deep down inside, you're really afraid of men. You talk of strength is just a big put on. You're afraid of men. And that means, of course, you're afraid of me."
"Sure... "
"I scare you."
"Jive talk,"
"You're afraid of me."
"Bull!"
"Let's find out."
"What?"' Putting the patient to. a test. It always worries them. Seems to take a little fire out of them.
"A test."
"What you talking about?"
"I can prove to you that you're afraid of men."
"More jive."
"Give me a massage, then," I said.
"You're off your nut, she said, and she looked at me peculiarly. "Give you a massage? Christ. I charge twenty-five dollars for that. You charge thirty for this stuff. The way I figures it, I gives you a massage you gets five dollars for this session. And anyway, I ain't givin' you no massage. I ain't workin' now."
"You're afraid to." She hated that word, "afraid."
"I ain't afraid of nothin'."
"You're afraid to give me a massage."
"Get on this couch and lie down. I ain't afraid of nothing."
"Coming."
"What you doing?"
"Taking my clothes off. You're not going to give me a massage with my clothes on, are you?"
"I heard about doctors like you."
"Afraid."
"Bull. Take 'em off."
I already had. I was setting new records for disrobing with all the practice I was getting. "Get a towel."
"I haven't got a towel. I'll use this red throw pillow."
Sarah got up and I got down. I sprawled out on my stomach and put the throw pillow on top of my ass.
"Let's see how you do it, Sarah. Maybe we can find out what you're afraid of."
"Afraid! Come off it!"
Sarah stood over me, and leaning down, dug her long, fingers into my shoulders.
"That's how I do it," she said.
She worked my neck and shoulder muscles back and forth. My rear-end had to lift slightly to make room for my growing cock. Then she worked on my back. Kneading her fingers in, deep. She pushed and pulled. Squeezed. She was hurting me. But she was exciting me. There was no sign over my couch that forbade anything.
"Ow."
"That's how I do it."
She started on the tops of my legs, just under my ass, completely ignoring the danger zone.
"Very interesting," I said.
"What you talking about?" She was pounding my calves with the sides of her hands.
"The way you missed my ass. You avoided it. Because you're afraid to touch me there."
"Come off it! You know the rules."
"We're not in your massage parlor. You're giving excuses. You're afraid."
"Bull!"
She almost took the wind out of me. She threw the throw pillow down and grabbed both of my asscheeks. Her fingers worked hard, dug deep. My prick was on fire. Twenty-five dollars an hour seemed reasonable for what she did. She massaged my ass up and down. That, of course, caused my cock to go up and down. Against the velvet couch, that was delicious. I was fucking my velvet couch! And I thought I had tried everything.
"Hey. When do I get to turn over?"
"You sure you're really a doctor?"
"You're afraid."
"I ain't afraid of nothing. Turn over."
It stood straight up. So hard, it quivered slightly back and forth. The fluid was just dying to come out.
"What you trying to prove? Listen. No ball touching. No cock touching. No touching me." And she started working on my chest and stomach, avoiding my better regions. Her hands skipped from my stomach to my thighs.
"Very interesting," I said.
"You starting that crap again?"
"You're afraid."
I don't know what it was about that word, but it worked wonders with Sarah. She took a firm grip on my hard cock and started jerking me off. But after a few seconds, she stopped. Damnit.
"Christ: You jerk yourself off. I ain't no whore. And I told you, I don't like men. You know what that thing of yours reminds me of? I mean, no crap. You wanna know?"
"Tell me."
"It reminds me of my old man's thing. He used to whip it out and make me suck on it. That was before he took off and left ma with me and the kids. It looks just like my old man's."
"Is that why you're afraid of it?" My prick was still straight up, quivering, waiting.
"I ain't afraid of it. It just turns me off. That's all. Now pussy... well, there's something really exciting. You know what I mean?" She want back to my legs, kneading arid massaging.
"It'll do you good to touch it."
"Don't give me that stuff!"
"I'm not kidding."
"Well I ain't touching. No ball touching. NQ cock touching. No touching me. You know the rules."
Sometimes, we psychiatrists have our problems, too. But problems always have solutions.
"How old are you, Sarah?" While she worked on my legs I toyed with my prick. Christ, I wasn't going to let it just stand there without any attention.
"Twenty-five."
"Tsk Tsk Tsk."
"What the hell you tsking? What the hell's wrong with twenty-five?" Her hands were superb.
"I was just thinking... that leaves you forty-two years."
Now she stopped touching me entirely. She stood straight up and looked down at me with her hands on her hips. Her big tits loomed above me.
"What's this jive?" she demanded.
"Forty-two years. You know, the average life expectancy of a woman is sixty-seven. So on that basis, that leaves you forty-two years of misery. Forty-two years without happiness." My hand still played with my prick.
"What you talking about?" She was noticeably upset.
"Tsk. Awful. I mean... a year, or let's say even two years of misery. That's bad. But forty-two years of it... whew." I. expelled some breath. "Don't you realize if you don't touch me -- where you're afraid to -- you'll spend the next forty-two years in misery? You said you wanted to get some happiness. But how can you be happy as long as you're afraid of men's things? How can you be happy if you don't fight this fear. Now. Before it's too late. You're a tough woman Sarah. You got lots of strength. I felt it the minute you walked in. And I knew... that whatever your problem was you'd have the guts to fight it, Sarah. Because you're not afraid of anything. Except this," I would have pointed, but my hand was already there. "And I know you can fight this fear... because I don't want you to be unhappy. And you don't want to be unhappy. One blow job Sarah... just one... how long can it take? A minute? Two minutes? Five? Ten at the most? Ten minutes of that... for forty-two years of happiness. Sarah... you're on the verge. Don't blow it now."
"I thought you wanted me to blow it."
"I do. I do."
Sarah did. Her father gave her good practice. Her thick lips wrapped around my cock and slid up and down. Softest lips I ever had. Worked my cock into an absolute frenzy. I knew she could do it. As she sucked me, I said, "Forty-two years. Happiness. Good for you, Sarah." Sarah was sucking her way to happiness. I reached up and grabbed her sweater where her tit was. She started to move away.
"Fight it, Sarah. Fight this fear. You're not afraid to. Forty-two years of happiness."
She lifted her head up from my cock and looked at me.
"You're not putting me on? Forty-two years of happiness?"
"Forty-two."
Her head turned back to me. Faster and juicier than ever she sucked. I somehow managed to get her sweater past her big tits, and while she sucked I squeezed her luscious black breasts.
"Pants," I said, "Forty-two years."
One hand holding my cock. With the other she got her skirt and panties off. Black skin. Black bush. Black beauty.
"Sixty-nine," I said.
"I thought you said forty-two."
"Do sixty-nine with me, Sarah. Flip your legs up here. We'll do each other. Maybe we can both have forty-two years of happiness."
"How old are your' she asked.
"Never mind."
She swung her meaty body around so she lay across me on the couch, her leg spread around my head. I got my tongue into her hole and was surprised to find she was dripping wet. Holding on to her big, round asscheeks I wiggled my tongue into her cunt, as deep as it could go. While she still sucked away at my cock, her pelvis shoved hard into my face, quicker and quicker. Her big tits bounced against my stomach. My whole mouth was sopping from her white goo. She was working hard at happiness. Faster and faster she crashed against my face and body. I let my tongue ride up to her asshole and back to her cunt, back and forth, back and forth. It drove her mad. She sucked away at me and her hands, from professional habit, massaged my legs. The couch had started a noisy squeaking, which got louder and louder as we bumped our bodies against each other. Just as I was about to come in her wonderful mouth, I reached my hands out and grabbed a tit for each. In rhythm to the spurts, I alternately pressed and squeezed each tit.
At the same moment, Sarah reached her zenith. Flopping around on top of me, she let out what sounded like a war cry, and in one huge, thirty second quiver, she came.
From the other end, I heard Sarah say, "That wasn't bad. But I got me forty-two years of it. Ain't that something?"
I struggled to swivel her legs off me.
"Almost. But not quite," I said. "I've got to put it in you. Then... then you get forty-two years."
"Christ!"
"Long time Sarah. All those years."
"How do you want it?"
I took it as I found it. On the couch. But I rolled her down on her back first. I wanted to suck on those titties when I put it in. I mounted her and got my lips on one big, dark nipple.
"I've got to play a little first," I said, "need just a little time to get it up there."
"Christ!"
I flicked her nipple back and forth, till it hardened. Then I worked on her other nipple, till it hardened. Then I pulled both her breasts close together with both hands, so her nipples were about an inch apart. I put them both in my mouth and sucked, nibbled, bit. It didn't take long for my cock to start growing again. And her pelvis began a slow rocking motion that tickled my cock up even harder. After about ten minutes of sucking on her cushion soft tits, my cock was again ready. There was no trouble entering her wide, wet cunt. Her pelvis rose to meet my cock, and her cuntlips felt like they were sucking my cock in. I tried to give her all the years she had missed. I drove it in her as hard as I could, and she worked just as hard pushing against me. I had my arms around her, and her boobies flopped around under my chest.
"Forty-two years," I whispered.
Our bodies met and separated. Together, apart. Together, apart. My cock slid back and forth in her hot, wet hole. I couldn't stop now. I lost control of my body as my juices shot into her. I clutched tightly to her asscheeks, and grabbed a nipple in my mouth. I felt like I had spent every ounce of fluid in my body. "Listen... we done, now? I ain't gonna come again. I gotta save myself up for Lizabeth when I get home. We done now? I got my forty-two years?"
"You got it."
That was my first and last session with Sarah. There was no way I could convince her to come back the following week. She got her forty-two years and she was happy. I tried convincing her that if she came back next Friday, I'd see what I could do about extending it to fifty. But she was satisfied.
So that meant I still had my Friday's open. I replaced my ad in the papers, and after a few days of screening, had myself another goodie.
The gal's name was Nancy, and she had money coming out of the pores of her skin. When I had first screened her, the weather was warm, but she came in a white mink coat. The rich ones have to show it off 365 days a year. She probably had a mink fox box.
Nancy never worked a day in her life. And she never had to. Her father owned Texas oil wells, and gave her all the money she wanted. Nancy lived alone in a huge $1000 a month penthouse, lavishly furnished with anything and everything money could buy. She had only one problem. She was bored, bored, bored with life. She'd bought everything, been everywhere, done all. For her -- with all her money -- life was nothing more than a series of days, one after the other, each as boring as the last.
I found her body anything but boring. When she came in that first Friday, she wore a purple, velvet pants suit, with small, silver sequins. For all I cared she could have worn a burlap bag, because there was just no way to hide the perfection of her body. Her tits were firm and high. Her asscheeks were like two perfect circles. She wore makeup and mascara like an actress, but through it all, you could see how beautiful she was. Like Elizabeth Taylor in her prime. Two, long diamond ear-rings swung and sparkled from her ears. She puffed away mercilessly at a long, gold cigarette holder, without cigarette.
She sat on the couch with her back straight, and crossed her legs. She flicked an imaginary ash from her cigarette holder. I would have loved to flick one of her very real nipples.
"So that's it, I'm bored," she yawned. "Nothing interests me anymore. Do you mind if I lie down? I'm so very tired. I'm always tired." She yawned again and swung that heavenly body flat on the couch. Like twin points, her tits popped up.
"Don't you do anything? Go out, read, travel anything?"
She yawned again. A big, wide one that told me my cock could comfortably fit there.
"Not anymore. I've been all over the world. But it just tires me out now. I used to do a lot of things, but now they're all so utterly monotonous. So I usually sleep till about one or two o'clock in the afternoon, take a long bath, nibble on something, and go back to bed. I mean, what is there to do?" Another wonderful yawn.
I kept the obvious answer to myself. What I couldn't keep to myself was the activity down in my pants. It was sticking out. I covered it by folding my hands on my lap. I must have looked like a good boy sitting there like that. Waiting for my cookies.
"How do you feel about your parents?" I asked.
"They're pretty boring."
"What about your childhood."
"Boring, too."
"Sex?"
"Boring."
"Sex? Boring? Why do you say that?' She puffed quietly away on her cigarette holder. "Sex is like everything else. I've done too much of it. But it's sheer monotony for me now."' She scratched an itch on the inside of her thigh. It meant, at least, that She was capable of feeling something down there. "With sex. I've done everything there is to do."
"Everything?"
"Oh, sure."
"With women?"
"Done it."
"With yourself?"
"Too much."
"With a lot of people?"
"Too many."
"Vibrators? Dildos? Bananas?"
"Even asparagus."
"You've done it with asparagus?"
"Even a pork chop."
This girl was too much -- if she wasn't lying. But I persisted. I figured I'd find something she hadn't done. My prick demanded I hurry.
"Incest?"
"Both brothers. Used to be all the time."
"With your... parents?"
"Occasionally."
"How 'bout animals, eh?"
"Dogs are the best."
"How about with doctors?"
"My first gynecologist."
"I guess you've done... everything there is to do with sex?"
"I guess so."
"Then I suppose you must know about Turjin."
"What?"
"Turjin. You must know about him."
"I never heard of him."
"Never heard of Turjin? The persian?"
"Turjin the Persian?" She screwed her face up. I couldn't blame her. I had made up a pretty silly name. But it was too late to change it. I got up from my seat, and walked over to my bookcase.
"Sure. He's the guy with all those radical ideas about sex."
I pulled out a large book at random, and covering the title with my hand, returned to my recliner.
"Turjin the Persian... he wrote a book called What to Do When You're bored with Sex. A Radical Approach. I opened the volume and started paging through it as though I were looking for a specific page. What I had turned to was page 334, and I noted in the upper left hand column that on December 3, 1940, Kansas had 34% more rainfall than the average median of the country. It was a World Almanac I had selected, but she had no way of knowing. As far as she was concerned -- or at least I hoped -- I had the answer to her boring problems with sex.
"What kind of radical ideas?" She was definitely interested.
"Suggestions. Ways to increase sexual excitement. But very unusual. Many people in this country think his ideas are silly. Like his name. But a clinical survey had just been done. And the conclusion is that the man is no phoney. His ideas really work. My guess is that in a matter of years -- as more and more people try out his ideas -- he'll be recognized for what he is. A brilliant sexologist. And a wonderful human being. Because his methods have helped hundreds and hundreds of people... who have your kind of problem. Boredom with sex. At first, his ideas seem a little crazy -- because we're not used to his methods -- but once they're tried, they're always successful."
"What suggestions?" I heard some impatience in her voice. Good.
"You want me to be specific? Just because Turjin's ideas have helped 100% of the people who have tried his methods... isn't a guarantee for you, Nancy. You may be the 1%. The exception to the rule. Nancy, it's possible you'd be the first person who Turjin wouldn't be successful with."
"What suggestions?" she demanded.
"Well, I can't just tell them to you."
"What do you mean?" She puffed faster on her cigarette holder.
"Well, his entire first chapter deals with how his methods should be tried. He says, first of all, that the moment his suggestions are heard -- the very moment -- that is when they are to be tried. His theory is that if you live with the idea too long, before performing it, boredom sets in. In other words, Nancy, if I give you some of his suggestions, you must try them out right here, immediately. Otherwise, he points out, the suggestions will go stale."
"You mean with you?"
"The nearest convenient male, is the way he phrases it. He's a strong believer in keeping sex on an impersonal level. He's very radical for our times."
"Let's try a couple of suggestions," she said, with a small smirk on her face. I didn't know she had so much play in her, but I wasn't going to fight it.
"You're sure you want to?"
She was becoming more eager by the second. Her eyes lit up.
"Sure am. If it's new."
"Oh, but these are really strange ideas. In the first chapter he says that you mustn't feel that the suggestions are silly or they will not work."
"Okay. Let's hear one." She put her hands under her rear-end to sit on them. Then she looked at me cocking her beautiful head slightly, keeping the small smile on her face. She really couldn't wait.
"Ready for the first suggestion? I'll read it if you want."
"I want."
"I'll pick -- here -- suggestion #17. Is that all right?"
"Any number."
"Now remember. You must do everything he says, without question. Immediately."
"I've got the rules."
"Okay. Here goes. Here's Suggestion #17... by the way, Suggestions #1 through #20 are what he calls 'preliminary exercises to warm up by.'"
"Okay. What is it?"
"Suggestion #17. You must first get a pen... " I offered her mine, "and then remove any clothing surrounding the breasts... " This Nancy did quickly, undoing the buttons on her top, removing it, then unhooking her bra and letting it fall. Something else fell, too. A gorgeous pair of knockers, with two wide nipples that stood up straight. "Then draw a circle around each nipple... " This she did carefully, and when she finished her nipples looked like two eyes staring at me. "Then jump up and down so your breasts dance... " Nancy started jumping. And her breasts danced. Up and down her gorgeous boobs bounced. If I wasn't so fuckin' horny, I might have found this amusing. "Then, while still jumping, slip your hands in your pants and scratch your pubic hairs... " Nancy slid her hands where I wanted to, and continued jumping. If anything, she couldn't be bored. "Then hum a favorite melody... " I couldn't pick out the tune she chose. But then I was focused on this beauty jumping up and down for me, swinging those wild tits about. "Then, keeping your hands in your pants, stop jumping... " Nancy stopped jumping; just stood there breathing hard, with her breasts rising up and down, and her hands still playing down in her crotch. It was another occasion when I was sorry I didn't have my Polaroid with me. "Then sit down and take a five minute breather to prepare for #18."
Nancy sat down and looked at me with a grin.
"I don't believe it," she said, still breathing hard from the exercise, "that was really fun. I mean it wasn't boring or anything. How long do we have to wait for suggestion #18?"
I looked at. my watch. "Four minutes, twenty seconds," I said matter-of-factly.
"Time goes so slow," Nancy said, her milky white breasts hanging sweetly from her chest.
"Four minutes to go."
"I can't stand the wait."
"Three minutes."
"Is your watch slow?"
"Two minutes more," I said. I was more impatient than her. But I needed the time to think of the next suggestion.
"This is such fun."
"One minute."
"Now?"
I paused five seconds.
"Now!" Nancy's eyes popped wide with interest. "Suggestion #18. Okay, Nancy. Remove every remaining stitch of clothing so you are completely naked... " Nancy removed her shoes, slipped out of her slacks and panties. There it was. That beautiful, bored pussy of hers. Wrapped and cradled in small brown curls. Her shapely legs curved down beautifully from a pair of small, bony hips. "Then have the nearest available male... there's that phrase, Nancy... have the nearest available male put one toe as deep as possible in the vagina... " Holding the book with one hand, and making like I was studying it intently, with the other hand I removed my loafers and socks and Nancy brought her little body by my recliner. Leaning back, I held my left foot up and Nancy moved into it, so that my big toe was directed straight into her slit. I was delighted at the wetness Turjin had created. "Then whistle .:. anything." Nancy performed this task poorly, because only a few notes came out. But she kept trying as I wriggled my toe back and forth inside her wet slit. "Then caress the ankle of the foot of the inserted toe... " This Nancy did with a soft, brushing stroke. "Then roll your hips from left to right as the sun rises and falls." Nancy started a circular motion with her lovely hips, with my big toe still wriggling around in her hot cunt. "Then gently pull away from the toe so you free your vagina... " Nancy moved back so my toe slipped out. "Then place the penis of the man into your left ear and listen carefully... " I assisted this one by unzipping my pants and pulling out my erect organ. Nancy clasped it hard and bent down, sticking it in her ear. "Then keep listening... " If she heard anything it was the boiling of my cock juices. I had never had it in an ear before. As she leaned over her breasts hung sweetly over my leg, with the circular ink marks still around her nipples. "Then pull hard on your left nipple." Nancy pulled it, as her ear rested on my prick. "Then pull the right nipple in the same manner... " Nancy did that too, tugging at her own firm nipple. "Then move your head down and lightly place a testicle in your mouth and hum to make a vibration... " With my one free hand -- I was still "reading" from the book with my other -- I got my pants down. Nancy brought her head down, and I spread my legs to accommodate this portion of the exercise. Gently one ball went into her soft mouth, and she hummed. It sent shivers through my entire body, and kept my prick standing stiffly. "Then the other ball... " She switched balls flawlessly. "Hum" Again those wonderful vibrations. "Then place twenty-nine little wet kisses on the tip of the penis... " Nancy slid her mouth up to the top of my cock without removing her mouth at all. Smack. Smack. Twenty-nine love kisses -- and little drops were forming on the top of my cock. "Then suck on his belly button." Nancy put her hot lips on my belly and sucked. My hard prick was pushing against her long neck. "Then suck hard on his nipples... " I got my shirt off fast, and her lips sucked my own nipples up in size; first she did one, then the other. "Then take a five minute breather by sitting on the floor and meditating about how exciting #20 will be."
Nancy sat on the floor cross legged in front of me. She shut her eyes and lowered her head. In meditation. I looked down at the soft, exquisite body below me and wondered what the most exciting thing I could do to her was. Her little shoulders moved slightly with her breathing, and from either side of her, just below her arms, I could see the full fleshy swell of tits dangling down.
"Four minutes to go," I said. Christ. I didn't want to get fancy with her. I just wanted a good fuck. But I figured I'd throw in a few silly items to make it interesting.
"Three minutes," I said. Have her bite her nails while we do it? No.
"Two minutes left." Maybe I could have her do bird calls while I do her.
"One minute more." The Lord's Prayer, maybe.
"Okay, Nancy. Ready?"
She lifted her pretty head, and with an excited gleam in her eye, she nodded quickly.
I looked deep into the pages of The World Almanac. California had the second greatest rainfall, next to Kansas, on December 3, 1940.
"Suggestion #20. Here's the big one," I said.
"Can't wait." Her nipples stared up at me, from below.
"Okay. Suggestion #20. Lay on your back on the floor... " Nancy bent back from the waist and lay down. Her mound of pubic hair rose about two inches off her pussy. Her breasts flattened out, but her nipples stuck up hard. "Then put your thumb in your mouth and suck on it like a baby... " Nancy put her thumb in and sucked on it. A woman's body and a baby's gesture. It excited me so much, I thought I'd shoot out right there, in my recliner. "Then lift the legs in the air, separating them wide apart, and let them dangle from the knee... " She followed instructions beautifully. Her legs went up and apart and her pink cunt was exposed open to me, as well as her asshole. "Then with two fingers of the hand not being used to suck your thumb, pry apart as far as possible the vagina lips to allow the nearest available male easy entry... " Nancy again did as instructed, separating her pink lips even farther apart, exposing to me the very hot roots of her being -- still sucking on her thumb. I tossed the Almanac aside and lowered myself off the recliner to meet her hot welcome. Letting both of her legs rest on my shoulders, I got on my knees and tilted my hard tool to her hole. With a terrific lunge, I charged my prick deep into her. Her hole was hot and roomy, and I slid my prick back and forth hard, making her tits shake around. Still, she continued sucking her thumb, and as I worked my engine into her at a greater speed, she increased the speed that she sucked on her thumb. Her cuntlips clamped hard on my cock, pulling it in, easing up, pulling it in. The faster I fucked the faster she sucked.
"Boring?" I asked, thrusting into her harder and harder.
She shook her head, thumb still in mouth. She was loving it. Her flesh rippled and quivered as I dug my member into her fiery cunt. At illegal speeds we raced. Her ass pounded against my thighs as I took the thumb sucking beauty. Turjin the Persian would have been proud of Nancy's progress. Her body heaved and rolled at a tremendous rate as I pummeled her quicker and quicker. The rich bitch was coming. With her thumb still in her mouth, she squeezed her eyes tight, her tits jumped around, she momentarily stopped sucking -- then let the huge orgasm over take her, quiver by quiver. My cock could not resist this luscious sight, and it forced out my hot come. The liquid gushed out of my cannon in thick spurts, about ten powerful spurts, till there was nothing left but exhaustion.
Nancy opened her bright eyes and removed the thumb from her mouth as I slipped my happy cock out of her cunt. She sighed deeply and smiled.
"It really wasn't boring at all. I don't believe it. I wasn't bored."
"Wait till next week, then. Suggestion #21 is a real dilly!"