Chapter 11
Marriage counseling: the whole concept was degrading, thought Amy Wilson. The idea of telling some third party all about one's most intimate thoughts and feelings, to describe to them the shameful and disgusting things that went on in the bedroom-it made her physically ill to think of it.
Bill had been trying to get her to go to the offices of Life Adjustment Sciences, Inc., for several weeks now. When she'd first heard about his visit to the place, she'd been on the verge of leaving him. To think that he'd aired their private life to some stranger!
But then her attitude underwent a change, largely because Bill was no longer bothering her for sex as often as he usually did. This decline in his maniacal sex-drive seemed to be connected to his increasingly frequent visits to the counselor.
The counseling couldn't be all bad, if it did that for Bill.
He always came home with such glowing reports about the counselor, too. To hear him tell it, she was a combination of Socrates, Wonder Woman, and Marilyn Monroe, although he never told her specifically what it was that Dr. Fleurette was doing for him. He insisted that she would have to go and see for herself.
With this two-pronged attack-nagging her and piquing her curiosity-he finally extracted a promise from her to go and see Dr. Fleurette. The fact that the counselor was a woman was probably the deciding factor. She could never have gone to see some man who thought he knew it all. The idea of Bill talking about their intimate lives with another dirty man would have been completely intolerable. She certainly would have left Bill if he'd been talking about their sex life with another man. They were all so coarse and gross and fleshy and lustful and dirty and smelly and disgusting.
Amy was embarrassed and terribly nervous when she entered the office, but she was partly reassured by the sight of the sweet young girl behind the desk. She was dressed demurely in a crisp white blouse with ruffles down the front. She wouldn't have been out of place sitting in a classroom of one of the more elegant eastern colleges, and she looked no more than eighteen. Amy would never have guessed in a million years that Kathi Palmer had spent the past eighteen months working energetically in her mother's brothel, The American Way, as a sort of post-graduate addition to what she'd learned from Wanda.
"Good afternoon," said Kathi, her voice a smoky contralto.
"Hello. I'm Mrs. Wilson. Amy Wilson. My husband, Bill..."
"Of course, Amy," said Kathi, her face brightening. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. You don't mind if I call you Amy, do you? My name's Kathi."
Amy was taken slightly aback by this. It seemed rather effusive and overly familiar for someone who seemed to be merely the receptionist. She wasn't offended, though: just surprised.
"Of course not, Kathi," Amy said, noticing what lovely legs the other girl had when she stood up behind her desk. They were truly spectacular legs, long and perfectly molded. She felt a twinge of envy. She was slightly surprised, though, because hot pants had gone out of style some time ago.
"We're very informal around here," Kathi said, and Amy didn't know whether she was talking about her outfit or her greeting, so Amy just smiled.
"Bill hasn't told me much-"
"He's making wonderful progress! Imagine, he's already on the verge of becoming a Probationary, after only three weeks."
"Hm," said Amy, who didn't know what she was talking about.
Kathi had seized her arm during her last effusion, and she displayed no evidence of an intention to let it go. She was half guiding and half propelling Amy toward a door on the other side of the room.
"Bill's told you about the physical exam?" Kathi asked.
"Well," Amy said, and she felt her cheeks burning, "yes."
"That's good. I hope you don't mind if I do it, do you? See, I'm not really a nurse-"
"Oh, please!" Amy said, embarrassing herself with the unexpected intensity of her own response. "I mean-I feel at ease with you."
"That's wonderful," Kathi said, hugging her arm.
Amy felt reassured. Bill hadn't given her any details, he'd just told her that there would be a physical examination, but she'd dreaded the idea. It had almost prevented her from coming here at all. Oddly, she was almost looking forward to having Kathi do it. She really liked Kathi, she realized. Bill had never even mentioned this girl to her. Probably a crude, coarse man wouldn't even notice what a sweet and delicately lovely and truly sympathetic girl she was. He probably just thought of her as that broad with the big bazooms, or something equally vulgar. They certainly were big. One of them was pressing companionably against her arm.
Her mind slipping naturally from breasts to motherhood to marriage, Amy asked: "Are you married, Kathi?"
"God, no," Kathi said with a touch of vehemence, and Amy thought that she felt a faint shudder of distaste flow through the girl's truly lovely body.
"Don't tell me you disapprove!"
"Amy, it's just ... well ... men, you know?"
"Oh, I know, I know," Amy sighed. "But it seems so odd, here you are in the marriage counseling business, and you disapprove of marriage Doesn't that seem-well, a contradiction?"
"Not at all. A psychiatrist can counsel a schizophrenic without approving of schizophrenia, can't he?"
"That sounds logical," Amy said.
Kathi opened the door and they passed into, surprisingly, a bedroom. It was done in beige and pink and white, with frilly white curtains on the windows and a canopied bed. It was a thoroughly feminine bedroom, the sort that Amy had always wanted to have: with no dirty jockey shorts on the floor or cigarettes in the ashtrays or beer cans on the night table.
"What a nice room," Amy said.
"We try to anticipate the taste of our clients," Kathi said.
Amy wondered what that meant. Kathi left her to go to a closet. Amy stood, ill at ease now that the younger girl was no longer clinging to her. Kathi returned with hangers.
"Now, if you'll just...?"
"Take off my clothes?" Amy completed, and, unexpectedly, she giggled. Kathi giggled. For some unknown reason, this was fun. Amy hadn't felt so giggly and girlish and unreasonably happy in a long time, not since ... not since she'd been married, as a matter-of-fact.
Amy was wearing a simple fawn suit that went well, she thought, with her slightly darker hair. Kathi put her jacket and skirt and blouse on hangers as she slipped out of them. It was amazing, but she didn't feel at all embarrassed, even though she was wearing nothing but her pantyhose and her white bra.
"Let me unhook your bra," Kathi suggested.
"My...?" Amy said, and she gulped. She hadn't been expecting that at all, but she couldn't summon up the nerve to question it. Instead she turned and felt Kathi deftly unhook her bra. Well, why not? Amy thought. She had nothing to be ashamed of, really. She wondered if Kathi would admire her body. What a silly thought! She slipped out of her bra, and Kathi took it.
Amy turned shyly, her arms folded over her breasts. Kathi waited. Amy felt a hot flush spreading all the way down to her naked breasts.
"Really ... I mean ... really!" Amy said, annoyed with the squeaky note that entered her voice. "What kind of an examination is this going to be?"
"A thorough one," Kathi said mildly, with a glint in her gray eyes that Amy thought somehow mischievous.
Amy lowered her eyes. There was no way around it. She couldn't slip out of her pantyhose without uncovering her breasts. Her arms moved down jerkily as she rolled her pantyhose down over her hips and bared her taffy-colored muff.
"What pretty tits you have!"
Amy's jaw dropped. "What did you say?"
"I said, you have very pretty tits."
"Well. Thank you," said Amy, struggling unsuccessfully to repress a smile. "But ... that's not a very nice word."
Kathi laughed at her. Amy tried hard to take offense at this, but she found herself giggling. "Tits," she said, and she giggled some more.
"Where did you grow up?" Kathi asked.
"I had pretty strict parents," Amy admitted.
"I was brought up oddly, too," Kathi said. "I didn't even know what a cunt was until I was sixteen."
Really, Amy thought, she had to put a stop to this. There was no telling where it would end. But she found it impossible to reprove Kathi while keeping a straight face. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her pantyhose from her legs. She was completely naked now. She crossed her legs and covered her breasts again.
"Now, how on earth am I going to examine your pussy if you hide it?" Kathi demanded.
"My ... pussy!" Amy gasped.
"Oh, I know what's the matter with you. I'm making you shy and nervous because you're all naked and I'm fully dressed. We can fix that. Then you won't have anything to be shy about."
"Wait!" Amy cried. "Don't!"
But it was too late. Kathi was out of her blouse and her hot pants in two seconds flat, and she wasn't wearing a stitch underneath them. She raised her hands as if demonstrating that she had nothing at all to hide. She certainly didn't.
"Now, doesn't that make you feel better?" Kathi asked, smiling encouragingly.
"Well...." Amy said, not at all sure that it did.
"You're really being unfair, Amy. You're getting yourself a good look at me, but you've got yourself all twisted up like a pretzel. It's a shame, too, because you have such a lovely body."
"I do?" Amy asked timidly.
"Of course you do! Beauty isn't anything to be ashamed of, you know."
Very slowly, Amy disentangled herself, watching Kathi nervously. Kathi's eyes seemed to have gone very soft. They held hers. She felt strange. She tore her eyes away from Kathi's, but she still felt strange.
While her eyes were averted, Kathi had taken something from the drawer of the bedside table. She looked up. Kathi was holding a thick cylinder of white plastic. One end was tapered to a rounded point.
"What's that?"
"Now, just trust me, Amy," the younger girl said softly, and Amy found it even harder to tear her eyes away this time. She seemed to be sinking into them. She felt dizzy and weak.
Kathi knelt in front of her, gazing up. Her gray eyes held amber flecks in their depths. She was conscious of Kathi's hands on her knees, applying gentle, outward pressure. She knew that her legs were moving apart, but whether she was moving them or whether Kathi was pushing them she did not know.
"Don't," Amy whispered.
"You want me to."
"Yes. No! Don't. Please don't do this to me."
The shining helmet of Kathi's reddish brown hair sank between her thighs. She felt a soft, wet touch on her cunt. She gasped. Her hands knotted in tight fists. She whimpered, flinging her head from side to side in violent negation. She felt tears on her cheeks. Kathi licked delicately, like a cat lapping cream, subjecting her cunt to an excruciating agony of pleasure. She spread her legs wider.
"Eat me, Kathi. Eat my cunt!"
The scream echoed in Amy's ears. It took her a moment to realize that she had screamed, to realize what she had screamed. Kathi lapped, steady and insistent, working her tongue deeper with each stroke, parting the pink petals, electrifying Amy's tingling clitoris. She flung herself back on the bed, groaning, trying to pretend that none of this was happening. Kathi kept licking.
Kathi's tongue fluttered against her clitoris like a butterfly dancing on a flower. It stayed there for a long time. Then Amy felt a new sensation, the pressure of something hard at the lips of her cunt. It pressed inward, pushing the lips apart, squeezing them wide.
"No," Amy whimpered, "no, Kathi, please."
Kathi slid up onto the bed with the velvet grace of a serpent and lay half beside her and half on top of her. She could feel the warmth of Kathi's moist breath against her throat when she spoke.
"It's all right," Kathi said. "It's all right. Don't you want me to fuck you?"
Amy gripped her tight, seeking her lips. Kathi's kiss was soft and tender and sweet, not at all like ... that other. Her lips were yielding, her tongue slithered and probed. The hard fullness at her cunt increased, and Amy gave in to it, sought it. Her hips began to rock.
"Yes, fuck me," she whispered. "Fuck me, Kathi."
She felt her cunt squeezing wider as the shaft grew thicker, but she knew that she could accept anything that Kathi gave her. The end tickled the top of her womb before Kathi pulled it out, then pushed it in, pulled it out, then pushed it in, steadily building up to a more and more rapid tempo. Each slide was easier, slimier, more electrifying.
Kathi's lips were at her breasts, her tongue massaging the tips to delicious hardness. She arched her back, rubbing them against Kathi's insistent mouth.
Kathi stopped kissing her tits. She felt the younger girl moving, shifting her position. It didn't seem to matter. The hard thickness was still pumping in and out of her cunt, syncopating the rhythms of her own undulating pelvis, and that was all that mattered.
Amy opened her eyes. It was so close that it took her a moment to realize what she was looking at, the pink folds and ridges out-lined with fur. Little droplets of dew glittered in the dark tangles of hair. Kathi knelt above her, leaning forward on her elbows, her knees straddling Amy's head.
"Do you want...?" Amy whispered.
But Kathi said nothing. The decision would be Amy's alone. Kathi continued to drive the shaft in and out with her flailing wrist, and now Amy felt a new and even more exciting touch as Kathi lowered her face and began tonguing her clitoris.
Unable to resist any longer, Amy gripped Kathi's smooth, taut buttocks in both hands and pulled her crotch down almost violently against her mouth. She burrowed into it like a hungry animal. She had no thought for technique or style or anything else but the greedy urge to feel those slick pink surfaces and taste the sweet salt of Kathie's ooze.
Kathi seemed to love it any way she got it. She pushed down, rubbing even harder against Amy's sucking mouth, swabbing her nose and lips and chin with her slimy pussy. She redoubled her efforts with the plastic dildo, shoving harder and deeper and faster while her tongue tickled Amy's clit at a breathtaking pace.
Amy had experienced orgasms before. They had come almost against her will. But they had been pallid, bloodless things compared to the surging, symphonic tide building up now in her loins. She screamed against the muffling hair of Kathi's pussy as the surges began to crest and catch fire and turn her to glowing incandescence.
She felt Kathi moving away from her. She tried to make a grab for the voluptuous young brunette, but Kathi was too quick. Amy opened her eyes and then she screamed.
She saw that she had been viciously duped. Kathi had been blocking her line of vision, keeping her occupied, giving her the illusion that she was being stroked with a plastic dildo-while all the while something entirely different had been going on.
"No, no, no!" Amy wailed.
"Don't fight it, Amy. It feels just as good as it did before, doesn't it?" soothed Kathi, and she slid up and kissed Amy on the lips before the older girl could reply. "It must feel even better, because it's living flesh and blood, not some hunk of plastic."
Amy fought against the idea, but Kathi's kiss confused her; and so did the steady pumping of the hard rod that filled her up the middle. Against her will, she felt a return of the soaring feelings that had driven her up to ecstasy only moments before.
While Kathi had been distracting her with her lesbian lovemaking, a man had crept up on them-apparently from concealment in the closet. What Amy had felt pushing into her cunt had not been Kathi's plastic rod at all, but the man's hard cock as he stood at the edge of the bed, hidden from her sight by Kathi's nude body. She should have known the difference. After all, it was her own husband.
Amy wanted to tell them what she thought of them both, but she couldn't collect her thoughts.
They were shattered to a million fragments by the inferno of orgasmic delights erupting throughout her body. She could only sob while she clutched at Kathi and Bill continued to screw her with steadily increasing speed.