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A-Cups

By: Markj363



A-cups (Part one of the Massage)

I have never considered myself a breast man and for that matter still don't but I have certainly developed my taste for them over the last few years. I am not fascinated with c-cups or d-cups but rather a-cup or smaller ones. How this started was a few years back one of our secretaries who is an a-cup and I had never given any thought to sexually walked into a staff meeting after being out in the cold. Her nipples were of course hard but I was amazed how big they looked on top of those small breasts. What started as a look up to see who was joining the meeting became a bit of a passion for me. All I could think of was how hot those nipples looked standing proud on such small tits. I didn't think anything would ever come of that but of course I had suddenly developed this lust to see big nipples (or at least super hard ones) atop the smaller breasted women. A couple years after that I had Karen (I will call her) over for coffee one night. I started rubbing her shoulders and she discovered just how good I am at it. This has happened several times over the last few years but other than the two times I am about to talk about nothing has ever happened between us sexually...meaning cooler heads have always prevailed. 

I think it was the second or third time I had rubbed her shoulders and back Karen had come over to my house with a sweater on. As I tried to rub her back and shoulders I eventually just lifted her top to her shoulders and got her arms out. She didn't try and stop me so I carried on. As she was sitting in front of me I was able to rub down the front of her shoulders fairly easy. I took my time and worked slowly and eventually her breathing changed to the point I knew she was turned on (there is a pretty good chance she could feel my cock against her back too). As my hands went slowly lower and lower down her front teasing her at that point her breathing got deeper and deeper. As I brushed my fingers over her tits I was amazed (although I should not have been) at the rocks standing up on them. I only brushed them once or twice and was pondering whether to go further or not, then we both kinda at the same time said we should stop. We finished our wine and Karen went home. Nothing more was ever said about that night.

Months later Karen was at my house again. This time as I was rubbing her back she lifted her top over her head herself. I was sitting more sideways on the couch with her in front of me. After an eternity of working and teasing her my hands found her nipples. She sighed as I pinched them thru her bra then lowered the front to expose them. She was leaning back against me, my rock hard cock clearly pressing into her back. She kissed me as my right hand slide down inside her pants. She bucked and came as my hand rode over her pussy on the outside of her panties (I didn't have time to get my hand inside). I ground my cock into her back and came quickly. Again we said almost in unison we should stop. We both knew the other had an orgasm but it seemed to be ok if we didn't talk about it, like it didn't happen. Nothing more was said about it and life goes on. That is until two weeks ago when we had another get together. It went pretty much as the others the only difference was it was me that said we should stop (she agreed) and I said if we don't I will be finishing you with my tongue. She didn't seem particularly shocked at all by that statement, and the next day at work I mentioned that maybe a hot oil massage would be the way to go next time. She readily agreed and we are just trying to find a good night to do it hopefully early next week. This will mean I will have access to her ass when I'm massaging her backside and her tits when she turns over...and in all likelihood it means I will be licking her pussy to finish her off. 

Stay tuned for part 2.

A Cure For A Bad Day



Simon Roman was a part time consulting detective for the FBI, and had half ownership of a second hand book store.

He had been 'retired' from the FBI, due to stress and a nervous disorder he had developed over time.

For the most part, he just seemed like a recovering burnt-out cop, very rarely did his 'other' problems surface.

Driving home after a consult job on a serial murder case, Simon tried to rub the headache away before it developed to something more.

Tilde, his son's sister, and Simon's lover, had suggested to him a while ago to stop consulting and just go completely into the working of the store, but he told her that it wasn't going to happen.

If all he could do was stand in the wings while trying to figure it all out, he'd do it. He was not going to be carried out this soon.

When he got home, he looked at the unassuming ranch. He still hadn't gotten around to painting over the peach colour his wife had chosen long before they'd even had thoughts of leave each other.

With a sigh, he went up the missing path that was overgrown with weeds and let himself in.

Simon hung up his jean jacket on the hook by the door and the hook fell off, puddling the denim on the floor.

He looked at it a moment before kicking his shoes off onto the jacket and heading into the kitchen.

As usual, he looked in the fridge. As usual, there was nothing in the fridge.

Simon stared into for a moment, as if food would magically appear, but it didn't.

With a sigh, Simon ran his hands through his hair and went into the living room, dropping heavily into his chair.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, sticking out a foot, before remembering that he didn't have a coffee table, in fact he hadn't had one in over a decade. This made him a bit grumpier.

He dropped his foot with a thud and let his head fall back.

"Simon?" A soft voice said behind him.

Slowly, he opened his eyes before closing them again. "I want to be left alone." He told Tilde.

"Oh?" She asked. Simon could hear the floorboards creak slightly as she moved closer. "Did you have a bad day?"

"Yes, now go." He said, flicking his hand.

More footsteps, now she was standing right in front of him. Simon groaned.

"So, you don't want to fuck me silly?" She asked, prodding his leg with her foot.

Simon opened his eyes and found her wearing a black and pink peek-a-boo babydoll that seemed to be held up only with bows.

Tilde held her hands behind her back, waiting for his approval.

Simon swallowed. "You look good enough to eat." He told her.

Tilde smiled, taking that as permission to stay. She crawled into his lap, straddling him. "Sounds nice." She breathed in his ear. "But since you had a bad day, how about later?"

She looked him in the face while running her hand up and down his chest lazily. "Do you still want me to go?" She asked in her soft, husky voice, as she moved her hips in slow circles. "Or would you rather I ate you instead?"

Simon cleared his throat, and Tilde laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Actually, I have a bit of a headache." Simon told her, resting his hand on the small of her back.

Tilde pulled up and looked at him. "I don't think I've ever had the excuse used on me." She told him.

"It's not an excuse." Simon told her. Tilde frowned and ran her fingers across his shoulders and neck, making him wince slightly.

"It's from tension." She declared, smiling naughtily. "What I plan to do should help." Simon sighed and dropped his head back, smiling slightly to himself. "Can't stop you, can I?" He murmured.

Tilde kissed him deeply, nipping his bottom lip. "You like it." She said, slipping off him, and dropping between his feet.

Deftly, she had his pants undone and gave him a couple strokes before giving his cock a lick from the bottom to the top.

Simon's breath caught as she flicked her tongue across the the head, before popping it in her mouth, giving it a long suck.

Tilde gently nibbled her way down the underside of his shaft, running the tip of her tongue back up the side.

So, so, slowly, she gently took him in her mouth again, sliding down the length of his cock, before she let it hit the back of her throat and she pulled back quickly.

Simon brushed her hair back as she set an easy rhythm with her sucking and stroking what didn't go in her mouth, her head and hand going in opposite directions.

With each move, her tongue traced patterns up and down him, driving Simon to heavy breathing.

He looked down at her, watching her firm body move and bounce with her effort.

The fact that this was the first time he'd ever seen her in nothing but lace didn't escape him.

Simon liked the way the material clung to her breasts, how it made her nipples rise from the contact.

Tilde pulled up her head, and jerked him off a bit before resuming with renewed vigour, moving faster than before.

Each time his cock moved in the back of her throat, she moaned a bit, teasing him further.

Simon's fingers tangled deeper into her hair as he tried to hold on for a bit longer.

In a moment, Tilde swallowed him whole, her throat constricting tightly around him. In a moment, he let go, and she didn't let a drop fall.

Almost tenderly, she licked him clean, sending small, nearly painful spasms through his body.

Licking her lips, Tilde got to her feet. "I'm going to get a drink." She told him. "When you want more, come to the bedroom."

Simon watch the black satin triangle that covered her butt as she moved away, and took a couple deep breaths.

"It might be a while." He called after her. "That's ok." She called back. "I've got time."

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her brown legs crossed daintily.

Tilde smiled at him, her dark lips inviting.

Simon leaned against the door frame, wondering if he was really was up to all that her body was offering right now.

"So what's the plan?" He asked her, unbuttoning the top four buttons on his shirt.

Tilde tipped her head to the side. "Well, I thought I'd be on top, then you'd be on top, then we could stand, or do it on the floor, or against the wall, on the couch, in the kitchen." She uncrossed her legs slowly. Simon chuckled. "In other words, you're up for everything." he clarified.

"I'm so horny, I'd do it in the middle of the road." She answered. "I want to get fucked up, down and sideways." She looked him up and down. "Take off your clothes. Please." 

Simon moved into the room. "Always the polite one, aren't you?" He said, taking off his shirt.

Tilde looked hungrily at him as his clothes quickly littered the floor.

Simon put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her backwards, before kneeling on the bed, sliding those silky panties to the floor.

He could see her pulse in her neck and he bent to kiss it, before untying the bow between her breast with his teeth.

Tilde giggled, and he sucked on her taut nipples, before pulling back and burying his face in her moist folds.

She was already wet for him, but Simon teased her clit anyways, making her hips sway with every motion of his tongue.

Easing his fingers into her pussy, Simon listened to her soft moans.

Tilde's back arched as the sensations of her lover's fingers and mouth collided into one. She cried out, her fingers twisting in the blanket while her heels dug into the mattress.

As the waves of the orgasm started to fade, Simon slid his in his cock and kissed her. Tilde could taste herself on his lips.

After she regained her breath, Tilde rolled them over so she was on top.

Simon grabbed a pillow so he could prop himself up a bit.

"Comfy?" Tilde asked, her hands on his shoulders as she ground down on him a bit.

"Yeah." He replied, putting his hands on her hips, guiding her motion.

Tilde brushed her hair out of her face, and ran her fingers down her neck, down her chest, between her breasts, down her belly, then traced them up Simon's front all the way to his mouth, covering his mouth with her own.

"I think a little harder." She murmured, moving faster.

Simon quickly flipped them over again, and pinned Tilde to the bed. "Oh, that's really not fair." She pouted. Simon shoved himself as far in her pussy as he could, making her gasp.

"Is that what you want?" He asked in a rough whisper. Tilde licked her lips and closed her eyes, pulling up one of her legs. "Yes." She whimpered. "Make me scream."

Sometimes the sex was sweet, other times it was rough and dirty as hell. It looked like it was going to be the latter this time.

He pounded her pussy, the sound of their bodies slapping together was drowned out by the whimpers and moans Tilde uttered, twisting about in his bed, her nails threatening to score his flesh.

She screamed.

In a moment, they fell into a sweating heap.

Tilde's teeth grated against his shoulder slightly as she moved and kissed his sweaty skin. "Thanks." She panted. "I needed that."

Simon pressed his mouth to the side of her head. "Any time."



A Cure for Depression



58. A 58. Katie couldn't believe she'd failed the exam. "I studied so hard for it," she thought. Katie felt so defeated: a bad break up with her long time boyfriend, a one night stand that left her feeling used and degraded, and now her grades were falling. Katie became lost in her own depression. Not noticing that class had ended, she began to silently weep.

Marie had noticed the misty-eyed look on Katie's face all during class. As she gathered up her belongings after class, she noticed the Katie had not moved. Sensing an opportunity she approached her and asked, "Is everything ok?"

Katie seemed not to hear her, so Marie leaned in and repeated the question. Katie looked up at her with teary eyes saying, "It's just . . . I . . . I don't know. Nothing's going right for me." More tears welled up in her eyes.

Marie said, "Let's get out of here," gazing around the empty classroom, "you need to a friend to talk to. My apartment is nearby. We can talk."

Katie didn't respond, so Marie took charge. "I'll consider it set then," she said. 

Marie gathered up Katie's books and led her out into the parking lot. The two students were a study in contrasts. 21 year old Katie was a tall, pretty blonde with ample breasts, a cute ass, and long legs. Severe-looking Marie was a 49-year-old divorcee. Her close-cropped her was gray and she was what is politely called big-boned.

The two women got in Marie's car and drove a couple of miles to her apartment. Katie just stared out the window and sobbed silently. Once there, she followed Marie inside. Katie sat on the couch while Marie got her a drink. Marie handed her the drink and sat opposite her. For a while the two women said nothing. Marie nursed hers while Katie slammed hers down and moped in her gloomy depression. Finally, Marie said, "Tell me what's wrong. It can help to talk about it. I'm your friend."

That did it. Katie just started balling her eyes out and poured out her soul. She told Marie everything that was wrong. She listened attentively and clucked appreciatively whenever some male had done Katie wrong. Several times Marie refilled Katie's glass. 

Katie realized that she was doing all the talking and had been taking advantage of her friend. So, she began to stand up and said, "I should really go. You don't want to hear about all my problems."

"Nonsense," Marie replied. "I'm your friend."

"No. No, I . . ." Katie said. 

Suddenly, Katie was very dizzy. Marie grabbed a hold of her and asked, "Are you ok?"

Katie was seeing spots and she suddenly blacked out. When Katie awoke several hours later she was lying nude in Marie's bed. Her head hurt and she had to pee. "I wonder how I got here?" she thought. It slowly all came back to her and she realized that Marie was a true friend. She had listened to her, helped her when she needed a real friend, and wanted nothing in return. Katie felt much less depressed.

Katie had to go to the bathroom really badly so she crawled out from under the sheets and began to make her way to the bathroom. Marie's voice called out, "Katie, are you awake?"

Katie heard Marie's footsteps so she wrapped the comforter around her to cover her nakedness. Marie entered the bedroom and said, "So, you are awake. Feeling better?"

Katie replied, "A little. But, I have a headache. Thanks for listening to me. I hope I wasn't a bother, but I really need to use the toilet."

Marie laughed, "Go ahead. I want you to stay here until you feel a lot better. I can sleep on the couch and I won't take no for answer."

"Thank you, Marie," Katie said. "I really appreciate your friendship."

After she was done in the bathroom, Katie crawled back under the covers. She heard Marie moving about inside the walk-in closet. Marie exited the closet wearing a sheer nighty. Her heavy breasts rested on her large gut. Katie could clearly see the outline of Marie's wild bush. 

Katie was suddenly nervous about the whole situation. But, Marie appeased her by saying, "I hope you don't mind, but since it's just us girls." 

Marie sat on the edge of the bed and said, "You were telling me about some guy you hooked up with at the party. It might help to talk about it."

"She's a real friend," Katie thought to herself as she launched back into her story. Marie pretended to listen. All the while she was thinking of how to seduce this pretty young blonde.

Absorbed in telling her tale of woe, Katie developed an itch in the middle of her back that, try as she might, she couldn't scratch. Exasperated, she asked Marie if she could get it.

Marie let out a raucous laugh. "Sure. Turn over."

Katie rolled over and Marie moved the covers off her back. She quickly found the itchy spot but she didn't stop rubbing Katie's back. "Let me give you a back massage. It'll help you take your mind off your troubles," Marie said.

It felt so good. Katie just murmured something into the pillow. Marie just loved rubbing this beautiful back. She straddled Katie and concentrated on the massage. Each pass brought her large boobs closer to the prone beauty. Marie's nipples were as hard as diamonds through the night. Eventually, her nipples began to slide along Katie's naked back as she massaged up and down her back. Katie felt the twin peaks gliding along her back but though nothing of it. She was so relaxed, she was nearly asleep.

Figuring the time was right, Marie bent down and placed a kiss on Katie's back. Katie awoke from her reverie. She quickly turned over and exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

When Katie's luscious boobs came into view, Marie fell upon them, kissing, stroking, and licking. Katie said, "This isn't right. Don't do this. I'm not that way, Marie."

"It's ok. There's nothing wrong with what we're doing. Remember, I'm your friend," Marie said.

Marie continued her assault on Katie's 34C breasts. Katie struggled against the larger woman but soon gave up. "It doesn't matter anymore," she thought. "Marie just wanted something from me, too." Defeated again, Katie retreated into a shell, saying to Marie "You can't hurt me. The real me is in here."

Marie smirked. She didn't care about the real Katie. All she cared about were those magnificent breasts, gorgeous pussy, and, most of all, that dimpled ass. Marie tentatively probed Katie's body with her hands but observed no reaction. She stood up and removed her nighty. The sight made Katie gag but she did not resist as Marie began to kiss her face, chest, and stomach.

At last, Marie lowered the covers completely off Katie's body. Marie sharply sucked in her breath as Katie's sparsely covered cunt came into view. She swirled a finger in Katie's vagina, looking for some kind of reaction on her face. There was none. Marie spread Katie's legs and dove into that succulent triangle. There may not have been a reaction on Katie's face but her inner chamber filled involuntarily. Marie greedily sucked out the juices.

Marie continued to kiss and lick Katie's cunt. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Katie sensed her own growing excitement. Her pussy continued to juice up as Marie ate her out. As Katie's mind struggled with her surging feelings, Marie found Katie's clitoris with her tongue. She pulled on it with her lips. The clitoral stimulation was enough to bring Katie to her senses. Her body was on fire and she let out a long moan of desire. 

It was a moan that Marie understood instinctively. She picked the lighter woman up and turned her on her stomach. Immediately, she began kneading and kissing Katie's perfect ass. She pulled the cheeks apart and gazed at Katie's quivering anus. Marie lowered her head and deeply inhaled Katie's musky aroma. Then, she stuck out her tongue and began to ream her butthole.

For her part, Katie fastened her pussy to the sheets and rhythmically rolled her cunt across the sheets. She'd never been so turned on before. The pressure in her butt combined with her own manipulations brought her to the edge of orgasm.

Sensing Katie's impending release and wanting to prolong the moment, Marie halted her lascivious activities. Katie groaned in frustration. Marie reached into the nightstand and removed a strap-on dildo. It was 8 inches long and 3 inches wide. She quickly got into the contraption and pulled Katie up by her hips. She placed the head of the dildo at the entrance to Katie's pussy. Katie was in such a state that she impaled herself on the false cock.

Marie thrust hard in and out three times. With each stroke, Katie was further and further gone. But, it was her ass that Marie really wanted to fuck. She withdrew the dildo from Katie's drooling cunt and slammed it into her ass in one swift stroke. Katie cried out in pain. But, with each stoke she grew more comfortable with the dildo in her ass. 

Meanwhile, Marie ran her arms around Katie. With one hand she pulled and tugged on Katie's breasts; the other hand manipulated Katie's cunt. The combination was too much to bear. Katie exploded into an orgasm so intense she temporarily blacked out. 

When she had regained her senses, Marie was on top of her in the 69 position working on her pussy. Katie looked up and saw Marie's gray cunt just inches for her lips. Knowing what was expected of her, she tentatively placed a light kiss on the slimy slit. Realizing that her young friend was conscious again, Marie dropped her hips so that her cunt engulfed Katie's face. Katie was momentarily disgusted. But, once in the throes of desire again, she came on strong. She licked Marie's pussy with gusto, drinking in her tangy juices. She even probed Marie's flabby ass with her hands and stuck a finger up her asshole.

After several hours of passionate sex, the two women lay exhausted, entangled in the covers on the bed. Both had smiles on their faces: Marie, because she had bagged a real beauty, and Katie, because her depression had lifted.



A Cure For Depression



I was visiting with friends, a couple that I have known for many years. We first met in university. We were all young, single and hunting for the ideal sexual partner. As it turned out they didn't have to look too far and just after graduating they got married. Ann and Simon seemed like an ideal couple. They were always happy and outgoing. They loved life and they loved each other. I have always been a little jealous of Simon's good fortune in marrying Ann. She is a gorgeous red head with a great body. Her breasts are a natural 38 and the rest of her frame is equally well proportioned. Simon is a good looking guy, I guess. Before linking up with Ann he had had a non stop bevy of girlfriends. It was difficult to share an apartment with him because of the constant bedroom noise. Not to mention that I was very envious of his success with women.

There was one advantage to the never ending stream of women in the apartment; they left their panties all over the place. I would find pairs of panties in every room in the place, including my bedroom. While Simon was fucking his latest conquest in his room I would often be beating my meat with her panties. You can tell a lot about a woman by the type of panties she wears. I came across (and in) everything from granny pants to thongs. My favorites are tiny sheer bikinis and of course ass cracking thongs. I am a panty addict and have been since those wonderful college days. However, once Simon and Ann became a couple, the supply of fresh panties trickled to a stop. Sometimes I would find a pair of Ann's panties and I would adjourn to the privacy of my room and masturbate with my new found treasure. I had to be careful not to cum in her panties though, because she always went looking for them before leaving. I had quite a stash nonetheless and always used a pair from my assortment to collect my load. I would wear a pair from my hoard and sniff Ann's panties while jacking my hard cock until I came. Afterwards I would put her panties back where I had found them and slink back to my room before being discovered. 

On one occasion I was not quick enough and Ann saw me with her panties in my hand. I was totally embarrassed and turned beat red. She walked over to me with a grin on her face and asked me if I was finished with them and could she have them back. I couldn't say anything; I seemed to have lost my voice completely. Ann smiled, reached out to retrieve her panties and returned to Simon's room. I hurried back to my bedroom and stayed there until they left. Neither she nor Simon ever mentioned the incident and I had forgotten it until the eventful visit this past week.

After we left college, I went to the coast to start a career in telecommunications. Simon and Ann settled in town and both embarked on successful careers of their own. We had stayed in touch and they invited me to spend some time with them following the breakup of my marriage. There was nothing mean or angry about my split up, we had just not really clicked as a long term couple. However, I was a little depressed after she moved out and they invited me to visit as a way to get over the hump and get on with my life.

I had been there for three days and everything was going well. They had both taken time from work to entertain me and help me get over my depression. I really enjoyed seeing them and we talked for hours about people we knew and the 'old days'. I got the feeling though that something between them was different. Not that their marriage was in jeopardy or anything like that, but I sensed that something was different. Around the house, Ann wore revealing outfits that offered tantalizing glimpses of her bra free breasts. Her standard daytime dress was a short silk housecoat that covered her baby doll nightie. I couldn't stop myself from staring at her long shapely legs and sometimes she would reach for something and I would get a look at her matching panties. I had a hard time hiding the erection that seemed to be a permanent thing since I got there. Ann couldn't help but notice my discomfort and it seemed that the more I squirmed the more she teased. Simon wasn't blind, he could easily see what was going on.

On one occasion they were sitting on the coach and I was in an easy chair across from them. Ann was in her standard outfit and Simon was wearing a tee shirt and boxers. As we were talking Ann casually opened her legs until I could see her panty covered pussy. I didn't have a full view but I could see enough to know that she was shaved. Simon saw me staring between his wife's legs and I turned red. Simon, however, acted as though nothing happened and they both carried on without a break in the conversation. A few minutes past and I excused myself to go to the bathroom. After Ann's pussy shot I had to do some cock adjusting or I would be very uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. As I dropped my pants to move my cock into a less constrained position, I noticed something peeking out from under the hamper lid. Sure enough there was a pair of Ann's panties. 

I opened the hamper and took the panties in my hand. They were a silky pair of bikini panties that had little lace roses where the straps met the front and back. I then remembered the embarrassing occasion years ago and smiled to myself. I held them to my nose and inhaled the deep woman scent that was present in the crotch. I then wrapped them around my hard cock and started to masturbate. The feeling of the silk on my dick was exquisite. I was adrift in the sensation and lost track of time. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Ann asked if everything was ok. I replied that everything was fine and that I would be out in a minute. I quickly tossed the panties back into the hamper, stuffed my cock into my pants and returned to join them in the living room. Simon got up to fetch a couple of beers and Ann excused herself leaving the room. Simon returned with our beer and we started to talk about work and other simple matters. 

A few minutes later Ann returned and she was holding the panties that I had found in the bathroom. I nearly choked on my beer as I saw what she had in her hand.

"Well David, it seems that after all these years you still like my panties. Simon, what should we do about this?"

I must have turned a million shades of red but Simon acted as if it was no big deal. "Well you know what a panty freak he was back in college. I think that you should decide what to do."

"Stand up David." 

I stood up and Ann tossed me the panties. "I want to see what you look like wearing my panties. Don't just stand there, strip and put them on. You've wanted to get into my panties all night. I saw you looking up my nightie. Did you like what you saw?"

I could only nod my head and look at Simon apologetically. Simon sensed my unease and just smiled. "You had better do as she asks. Ann can get cross if she doesn't get what she wants."

I took off my pants and Ann told be to remove all my clothes. When I was completely naked she told me to put on her panties. They were a little snug but I managed to get them on over my now soft cock. Ann came up to me and ran her hand over the front of the panties, cupping my balls and giving my cock a squeeze. She looked at Simon and asked him what he thought of me. 

"I think he looks cute. Those panties are one of my favorites. I love it when to tease me with them."

The room seemed to spin and I almost passed out. Simon got up to steady me but I told him that I was alright. "Look guys, I'm really sorry that I fucked up. Ann, if you want me to leave that's ok. I just don't want to cause you any more grief."

Ann laughed. "I would think by now you would have pieced it together. I set a trap for you. I wanted you to find those panties. Simon told me all about your panty obsession way back when we were first dating. I'm not upset at all. Simon and I have added some new thrills to our married life. Before we invited you out for this visit we planned to trap you with my panties. Simon wants this as much as I do."

I looked over at Simon who merely nodded and started to undress. Ann took off her short robe and knelt down in front of me. She massaged my panty covered cock until it was hard and ready. She then began to rub her face over the front of the panties, planting little kisses on my hard cock.

"Oh David your cock is so smooth and hard. I want to suck it, please let me suck it."

Before I could say anything Ann pulled the panties down until they rested below my balls. She took my firm dick and began to lick the mushroom shaped head. Simon came and stood beside me, his manhood next to mine. Ann took him in her hand and alternated her sucking between the two phalluses. At one point she tried to take us both at the same time and Simon and I had to stand very close. Our cocks met at Ann's mouth and Simon put his arm around my waist to steady himself. I did the same and Ann sucked hungrily on our swollen pricks. I felt Simon's hand caress my ass then he knelt down beside his wife and she took my dick out of her mouth and held it for Simon. Simon willingly took me into his mouth and sucked on my ridged member. I was beyond caring whether the mouth was male or female, I just needed to cum. Ann played with my balls as Simon sucked noisily on my shaft. The sight of two people sharing one cock, especially mine, was the most erotic thing I've ever seen. I knew that I couldn't last much longer. My balls were beginning to tighten and I felt the cum begin to rise. Simon knew that I was about to explode and he held my cock to share the load with Ann. I looked down at the two of them as my cock released its sticky seed. The cum spurted forth in massive quantities covering their faces in a blanket of white ooze. Ann and Simon met in a kiss sharing the cum together. 

I stepped back until I could sit down on the sofa, Ann's panties now resting about my knees. When they had finished cleaning my cum from their faces they came over to the sofa and sat on either side. Peter was still hard and he was stroking his sinewy prick. Ann spread her thighs and pealed off her wet baby doll panties. Handing them to me she said "See how wet I am. My pussy needs some attention; I want you to lick my wet cunt and make me cum."

I got between Ann's thighs and placed my mouth on her slippery gash. The taste of her womanhood was heavenly. The juices flowed freely and her hooded pearl stood out between the creases of her slit. I sucked her clit between my lips and ran my tongue around her open quim probing the depths of her pussy. I glanced up to see Simon still masturbating but he was now on his knees in front of Ann's face. I returned my concentration to the task at hand and increased my efforts on Ann's snatch. She ran her fingers through my hair and she was now moaning quite loudly. I felt her have a couple of little twinges and then she tightened her thighs about my head holding my mouth against her cunt. Her orgasm swept over her and she released a flood of liquid into my waiting mouth.

I parted her thighs and watched as Simon finished by unloading a sea of sperm all over Ann's face and tits. We were all exhausted but I leaned forward to plant a wet kiss on Ann's smooth pussy. Ann caressed my head and took Simon's cock into her mouth to drain him of any remaining baby juice.

The remainder of my stay took on a new dimension and I when I left to return to the coast I knew who to call if I needed help with depression.



A Cure for Depression



.AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is obviously a fictional, fantasy story, and no connection should be made to anything happening in real life. All characters are 18 or older.

MONDAY

Jackie Hendricks took a small look around her office, to make sure everything was in order, then glanced in the mirror and adjusted her glasses. She ran a finger along the edge of her short-cut dark hair. Then she sat down beside her desk and pressed a button on the intercom, "You can send in the next patient, now, Gladys."

Sharon Jones walked into the room and sat down on one of the padded chairs in front of the desk. Jackie looked her up and down. Sharon was a woman just into her 40s, wearing a dark business suit. As she settled down and brushed the lapels of her jacket to the side, deep cleavage was visible above the curved neckline of her blouse. Curly brown hair with some red highlights fell past her shoulders, and stylish thick-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses were perched on her nose. She crossed her pant-covered legs, put her clenched-together hands on one knee, and spoke up.

"This isn't something I usually do, you know, go to see a therapist."

Jackie smiled in a friendly way and tapped her pen against her lip. She had just been making some notes, but obviously her patient wanted to begin at once. "That's nothing to be nervous about. If you came here, I'm sure you have a reason."

"It's not me," Sharon continued. "It's my son. Nathan. I'm here for him." Jackie nodded for her to continue. "He's a teenager in high school. I think he's depressed. Anyway," she sighed deeply, "In the last few years he's been so full of problems, and I don't know what to do! I heard you were the best, that's your reputation."

Jackie kept her face straight as she heard that. It was an error that happened a few times a month, someone had heard about Jackson Hendrix, the prestigious psychologist, and found her office's phone number instead. Jackson Hendrix had an elegant office (so she'd heard) in a downtown high-rise. Jackie had this small office on the second floor above a suburban mini-mall. She hoped that the absence of the sound of clumsy fingers poking at piano keys in the past few days meant the 'music school' in the next unit had gone out of business for good. It leant things a much more professional air.

"Please tell me more about your son," Jackie said. "It's wonderful to see how much you care about him. Sometimes we find it hard to ask for outside help, but it's nothing to be ashamed of." This was mostly part of Jackie's sales pitch, she knew professional mothers like Sharon often had little time or energy for actually raising their children. "Would you like some tea?"

Sharon nodded and Jackie leaned into the intercom, "Two teas please, Gladys. Make mine the usual way, and..Ms. Jones, how about an Earl Grey?...yes, Gladys, an Earl Grey for Ms. Jones, you'll find it in the Black Canister." She emphasized the last two words. It was a secret code between them. The actual ingredients wouldn't be anything radical, just something to help Sharon Jones relax and lower the barriers that she might put up around certain subjects.

"She'll be in with the teas in a jiffy," Jackie smiled, "Now, you were telling me about...I'm sorry, I didn't write his name down here...."

"Nate. Well, Nathan, but he hates when I call him that." Sharon talked more about her son. In his way he sounded a lot like the usual teenager, touches of rebellion, cynicism, contempt for authority. As Sharon told it, he was an intelligent, even gifted, boy, but these past few years, "He's become someone I barely recognize." He'd dropped most of his hobbies and social activities, and his old friends had been replaced by new scruffy ones she didn't even know the names of.

Gladys interrupted, carrying the teacups in on a tray. Gladys was a thin, tall young Japanese woman, her hair held back in a ponytail. Jackie had an arrangement with her, she paid her a cut rate below minimum wage, and Gladys received forged certificates of community service which would help her eventually work off her criminal sentence. Most clients assumed her silence and surliness was just the usual attitude of an unpaid underling. Jackie sipped her hot tea, liberally cut with alcohol, and watched Gladys's ass in a tight grey herringbone skirt wiggle out the doorway. When the door closed she nodded at Sharon, "Please, continue. Can you think of anything that might have triggered this change in Nathan's behaviour?"

Sharon sighed and leaned back further. She took a sip of tea. "MMm, that's good. Anyway, well, yes. I suppose it's partly the fault of me and my husband. Our last few years of marriage...haven't been good. It's been a bit of a warzone. We don't even sleep in the same room anymore." Jackie took some notes as she heard the familiar story. Two high-powered, professional parents. Sharon was a highly-placed manager in a prestigious technology firm. Her husband worked sales, long hours and lots of travel. A few minutes later the 'special' tea had started kicking in, loosening her tongue, as Sharon stated, to cap off the discussion, "The last time we fucked was, like, three years ago, and we were both drunk after a party. Fuckin' hell."

Jackie asked her more about her home life. Nathan had two sisters, one a year younger than him, the other older and starting her first year of college.

"And do they also have, um, behavioral issues?" Jackie asked.

Sharon was drinking her tea, she smiled over the top of the cup, "Let's just fix one kid at a time, alright?"

Jackie nodded, "Sounds good. Can I see Nathan on Wednesday, then? We'll make an after-school appointment." Sharon nodded in agreement, and tipped up the cup to finish her tea, slurping at the last drops. It had something she couldn't pin down which delighted her mouth, she wanted every drop of it. "But I want to do something for you too." Jackie took her key and unlocked a drawer of her desk, sliding it open. Her fingernails clicked over various containers until she pulled out a medium-sized bottle of pink pills. There was a blank label on it, and she scribbled on it as she talked. "Stress levels can have an impact on home life as well. I'd like you to take one of these daily, in the morning."

Jackie placed the bottle on the edge of the desk and saw how Sharon looked at it skeptically.

"It's all-natural," Jackie added. "Organic."

Sharon's eyes lit up and she picked up the bottle and looked at it. "One a day, alright."

Jackie stood up and extended her hand, "I'm sure we're going to have a very fruitful relationship. I'll need to see you again, Ms. Jones, let's say next week, so we can get a good handle on how things are progressing?"

Sharon stood up, put her purse over her shoulder, and pressed her warm, soft hand into Jackie's, still buzzed from the special tea. "Please, call me Sharon."

WEDNESDAY

Jackie looked over her shoulder into the mirror, as she reached back and smoothed the material of her pinstriped skirt, bending over slightly so her ass would stretch out and make the material hug her rump. She'd worn her short jacket and this tight skirt specifically for this. A 33-year old woman, she was proud of her curves, and her sleek legs, and thought they would both come in useful for her next client.

She straightened back up, and walked to her desk, stopped by the framed diplomas on the wall and brushed the dust off the top of one frame with a fingertip. It was a good thing the clients never read the actual words, and just felt reassured by the look of them. Most of them were bought at garage sales, old diplomas of the deceased, which Jackie then had a computer artist kid she knew 'fix up'. They all displayed her name now, and a more recent date. Well, the current name she lived under. Hopefully that unpleasantness at the bio-chemistry graduate institute was in the past.

The intercom buzzed, and Gladys's voice came over the speaker, "Your four o'clock appointment is finally here. Do you still have time to see him, or do you want to re-schedule?"

Jackie settled herself behind her desk and her calm voice said, "Send the young man in, please."

Nathan Jones walked into the office, slouched, with a knapsack over one shoulder. He threw it down beside a chair and sat down, his baggy clothes rumpled: ratty sneakers, baggy blue jeans, a t-shirt with an unbuttoned and untucked plaid shirt pulled over top. A baseball cap kept some of his scraggly dark-blonde hair in place and away from his eyes that looked around in a pose of disinterest. Gladys leaned into the room to pull the door shut.

"Next time," Jackie smiled at Nathan, "Let's try to be a little more on time, shall we? Or we can make your appointment later in the day."

Nathan shrugged, "Yeah sorry, there was some school...stuff to do." Jackie began to smell the faint whiff of cigarette smoke from his body, along with whatever trendy overpowering deodorant was advertising heavily these days.

Jackie leaned forward, elbows on her desk, trying to appear open and trusting, "Look, I know it's not your favourite thing to be coming here. But you've had some trouble with school, haven't you? Been to the office a few times for skipping class and things?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, "Um, yeah..."

"Well," Jackie said, inclining her head, "Look, if it's not this, they might send you somewhere else not as nice and pleasant as us just having a talk here. And MAKE you go. I don't think this is so bad, is it?" She paused and let the question hang in the air for a few seconds. Nathan wasn't volunteering any conversation to break the silence. "I think it's not that bad, we can have some little talks and maybe get somewhere. Alright? Would you be more comfortable reclining?"

Her arm indicated a prototypical leather therapist's couch. It comforted a surprising amount of people to find the same tools of therapy they'd seen on television and in cartoons. Besides, the plush leather had found many other uses for Jackie. She reminded herself that she and Gladys hadn't used it together in almost a week.

Nathan shook his head, "No, I'm okay here, er...Mrs. Hendricks. Ms. Hendricks?"

She smiled at him, "You can call me Jackie if you want. Or Dr. Hendricks. Yes, Dr. Hendricks." She emphasized that last phrasing again, thinking she'd like to hear it from his lips. "Anyhow, if you're not going to use it, why don't I get more comfortable?"

She stood up from her desk, and felt Nathan's eyes watching as she walked on her high heels to the couch, bent over it as if brushing away a few specks of dust, giving him a view of her ass, then turned and lay down. She settled herself on her side, facing him, smiling, head propped up on an arm, her bare legs resting on each other. She saw his eyes shooting glances at her legs.

"Now," she smiled at him, "Let's shoot the shit a bit, huh? You don't mind if I talk a bit informally, do you?"

"No. That's cool."

"That's cool. Exactly my point. So, let's get a good view of the situation first. You know you're here because your mother -- lovely woman, by the way -- your mother thinks you're in a bit of trouble. So does your school, apparently. What do you think?"

Nathan was looking down at the floor. "I don't know. I'm just kind of bored with school, I guess. It doesn't seem relevant."

"Uh-huh," Jackie nodded, trying to project concern. "And what would you like to do after you finish school? Are you going to study anything at university?"

Nathan brightened up a little, "I'd love to be a in a rock band."

Jackie held back from rolling her eyes, but mouthed a little "Ugh," under her breath. She quickly recovered and pointed to the small fridge under the window, "Your voice sounds a little dry, why don't you grab yourself a cola? I've got some there under the window."

"Nah, Dr. Hendricks, it's okay."

"I insist," she said, then giggled "Don't worry, I'm not charging you for it."

Nathan stood up and walked to the fridge, leaning over to open it and look inside. All the cans were identical, and he picked one out and squinted at the label as he walked back to his seat.

"What is this?" he asked, turning the can in his hands. He couldn't find any English writing on it. It was a purple can, with streaks of lighter purple emerging like sunbeams from a round object, and lots of writing in what Nathan thought might be Japanese. "I thought you said you had some Coke?"

"This is better," Jackie said, "It's imported, but it's huge with the youth crowd. Why don't you try it and tell me what you think. Please?"

Nathan shrugged and popped the can open. He took his first sip. "Woah." He took two more drinks immediately after that one.

Jackie smiled and rubbed her legs together. "So, let's get down to business, then, Nate. Do you do drugs?"

"I smoke some weed." He took another gulp of the cola.

"Do you think you have a problem, like some kind of addiction, or....?"

"I just like to get high," Nathan grinned at the older woman.

Jackie smiled back at him. "Exactly. Now, let's talk sex. You go out with a lot of girls, fool around with them?"

Nate sounded disappointed. "No, not really. I mean, a few times, you know, I had some fun, but I kinda strike out there a lot. I once had sex with a girl, but I was wearing a condom, and it only lasted like ten minutes." His pupils were dilated and he stared right at her.

"So you must masturbate a lot."

"Oh God, yes." Just that mention made him suddenly aware of his cock. It was growing rock-hard down one pant-leg, constrained by his underwear. He shifted and tried to hide the motion of one hand as it reached down to adjust himself. As his big sensitive tumescent cock felt the brushing of cloth and flesh and he gave a little moan, "UUuunngHHH." He wondered why he was suddenly feeling so sensitive. He downed the rest of the drink and put the empty can on Jackie's desk.

Jackie smiled at him, "I think we've already found out a lot today, I think we've got the material to make some real progress," she said, staring at his tented-out pants.

"That's good," Nathan innocently replied.

"It is," Jackie licked her lips. She stood up and walked to her desk again. She reached into her drawer and pulled out another canister of pills, this time light blue capsules with a black band on them. She wrote on the label then leaned over to hand them to Nate, making sure he got a great look at her cleavage. "Take these once a day in the morning, please. Preferably before your first jerking off of the day."

"Oh, okay," Nathan felt a little embarrassed, but grabbed the pills and put them in his pocket.

"You do jerk off in the morning before school, don't you? Take care of that morning wood?" Nathan nodded, not quite making eye contact with her. "That's a good, healthy boy."

Nathan stood up and Jackie noticed the way his cock tented his pants out. She estimated his length and thickness from what she could see, and it was enough to make her feel flush. She wiped a hand over her forehead and reminded herself that she needed to pace the process.

Nate picked up his book bag and walked awkwardly to the door, "Um, goodbye Mrs.....er, Dr. Hendricks."

She gave him a sly look, "There's a washroom on the right, right before the stairwell, if you need to....take care of anything, before the long trip home."

Nate nodded quickly, and put a hand in his pocket to try to press down his hard-on. "Thank you Dr. Hendricks. Um, seeya Friday." And he waddled out the door.

FRIDAY

Nathan sat at the seat in front of Jackie's desk, his arms on the hand rests, eyes looking straight forward.

"And how have you been finding the pills, Nate, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Any side effects? Notice any improvement in your mood yet? Maybe," she fluttered her eyelids as she looked at him, "Increased energy?"

Nathan shuffled his feet on the floor. "Well, I've been more, uh..." he took another sip from the can Jackie provided him, "I'm certainly getting more erections."

Jackie's pen made a sound as she scribbles on the pad, "Please continue."

"I mean," he said, "before if I jerked off like 4 or 5 times a day, that was kind of an epic day, and I'd need to cool it for a few days after. You know, be disinterested. But now I'm like busting out six huge loads a day, and I still wake up with a hard-on ready to go again next morning."

Jackie smiled at him, "That can't be all bad, can it?" She giggled.

Nathan shifted in his seat, "Guess not. Does take up a lot of my time, though."

Jackie put her pen to her lips, "Any plans for the weekend?"

"Oh, not too much I guess. Dad's off on a business trip."

Jackie gasped and leaned forward, "Reeeealllly?"

Nathan nodded, "Yeah."

"Well in that case," Jackie scribbled something down furiously on her pad, "I want you to double your dosage of those organic pills I gave you. TWO in the morning from now on, alright? I have a feeling that will get us past any of the troublesome side-effects you've been experiencing."

Nathan tipped his head back and finished his drink, wiping his hand across his lips. "Two each morning? Well, alright."

"And make sure to tell me about everything that happens when you see me on Monday," Jackie smiled at him.

SATURDAY

Nathan woke up that morning with an intense hard-on tenting out his boxer shorts. He waddled over to the bathroom and had more trouble than usual getting his cock to calm down enough for his morning urination. After he flushed the toilet he looked at himself in the mirror, staring down at his hard-on that was so sensitive. He gasped slightly any time he touched the engorged, throbbing meat.

"Oh right, two in the morning today," he mumbled to himself, and pulled the pills out of his drawer and swallowed them down with some water from the tap. He checked that his bathrobe was there and turned on the taps in the shower.

Ten minutes later he was standing under the cascading water, in the rolling hot steam, already washed clean, with his legs spread wide and two hands stroking his hard cock, while his eyes were closed and fevered visions ran through his mind.

His heart was pumping and his teeth were pressed together, his fingertips feeling the slick goo which indicated more and more precum flowing from his cock, when he was spooked by a loud, hard rapping at the bathroom door. He jumped and pulled his hands off his cock.

"NATE!" It was his mother's voice, "Come on down, breakfast is ready!!"

Nathan's heart felt like it was up in his throat. He tried to calm down and finally called back, "Oh geez Mom, okay! Can I have like another five minutes?"

He heard her exasperated sigh from the other side of the door. "I've already been calling you forever! It's gonna get cold!!"

"Alright alright," he said, and reached over to turn off the water. "I'll be right there!" he called out, and reached for the towel to dry himself. His unsatisfied cock wetly bobbed in front of him, and he toweled it gently as it felt as hard as ever, promising himself to get a good stroke in right after breakfast.

He walked downstairs barefoot, wearing some boxer shorts with baggy well-worn cargo pants overtop, and a white t-shirt overtop with some comic-book illustrations on it.

He stopped in his tracks as he stepped into the kitchen, and his cock grew an extra inch in his pants, straining against his boxers. There was his mother, bent over the kitchen sink, in some slippers with a slight heel, tight dark blue sweatpants with three white stripes down the sides that were clinging to her skin above her knees, and a grey t-shirt. When she turned to give him a smile and said, "Have a seat, honey," he saw it was one of his old, thin and worn t-shirts she was wearing, that he had thrown out and she must have rescued in an act of frugality. Her large breasts comically distorted and stretched-out the faded design on the front, the worn material so thin he could pretty much see her lacy supportive bra right through it.




A Cure for Depression



He stepped forward, hands in front of him trying to casually hide his hard-on, until he got to the kitchen table and slid his seat far under it. Sharon put a large overflowing plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him, with sliced fruits on the side. Nathan tried to suppress a shudder as she lent in close so that he could smell the subtle mix of her perfume and the scent of her body, and her breasts were so close to his upper arm he swore he could feel the heat off them. She talked in a cooing voice into his ear, "Have you been taking those anti-depressants like Dr. Hendricks asked you to?"

Nathan nodded nervously, his eyes half-closed, trying not to look over, knowing his mother's deep, warm cleavage was so close to him.

"That's a good boy," she said, and placed a glass of orange juice in front of him. Nathan sighed in relief as she walked away and the tension abated. He concentrated on finishing his meal, his eyes fixed to the plate, as his mother clinked and scrubbed away at things.

He was finishing the last few pieces off his plate when he heard a strange, wet, slushing and dripping sound, and looked over at the corner where it came from. "Oh, God Mom, what the...uHHHH..."

She was down on her knees on the floor, head low against the cabinets, two hands close together, rubbing at the floor with a sponge, the arch of her back leading to her big ass moving back-and-forth in the air. The tightness of the pants had made the waistband of her pants ride down, and there was several inches of bare flesh of her lower back showing, including the black line of her thong, of which one strip led teasingly down between her asscheeks. The dark blue pants looked like they were painted on those thick, wide round asscheeks.

Sharon grunted and kept working as she said, "Thought I'd give the floor a good scrubbing. Since everyone else is out for the day."

Nathan stood up and walked over to stand over his mother. The gyrations of her hips were hypnotic, that big ass fucking the air on every thrust back. "Aaaand, how about you, mom?" He managed to ask, transfixed by her body, "Have you been taking YOUR medication?"

She looked back and gave him a big toothy grin as she nodded, "Uh-huhh. Actually, I think it's time for another pill, why don't you give it to me?"

Nathan saw the bottle she was indicating resting on the counter. He reached over to pop it open and took a pink pill between his two fingers. Reaching down to feed it to her, he crouched over his mother. "Oof!" he exclaimed, as he felt her big ass thrust back against his tented hard-on, at the same time as her tongue flicked out, and her lips sucked the pink pill from his fingers. She made a gulping noise, swallowing it down, as her ass continued to grind back on him.

Sharon stayed there on all fours on the floor, her son crouching over her, as she rubbed her ass against his hard-on, feeling the size and heft of that cock. "Mmm," she said, "I think the pills are really helping me, I feel different, but good. Just alive, don't you?"

Nathan just nodded, his mouth open and gasping, some drool running out the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, you seem more outgoing," Sharon nodded. "And now I think it's time for that cock to Out-Go out of those pants, mister!"

Nathan nodded quickly, moving to kneel behind his mother and undo his pants. He tugged them down while his boxer shorts stayed on, and was feeling hot enough to pull off his shirt too and throw it aside. He put his hand in the waistband of his underwear when his mom started bumping her ass back against his hard-on, giggling at how it felt and looked trapped in that clean white material.

Nathan closed his eyes and just moaned as he enjoyed the feeling for a moment, his big thick horny cock trapped in those clean white shorts, that big warm ass grinding and rubbing and slapping against it, sending shivers and tingles up his body.

Just then his mom's ass rubbed at just the right angle and his cock pushed against the opening of his fly and half of it slipped out. They both gasped as they saw and felt that cock slide out and slap down on her ass, resting right on the tight material of her sweatpants, a drop of precum forming at the tip. Nathan looked down at his pulsing cock and swore to himself that he'd never seen his cock so big and thick, and wondered if the pills were changing more than just his mood. He was certainly feeling dizzy with all that blood rushing down there.

Nathan held the base of his cock and smacked it against that pant-covered ass. Slap-slap-slap it sounded through the kitchen, big and meaty, as his mother sighed and lowered her head, pushing her ass up higher. "Yes baby, this ass is yours, you like Momma's big ass?"

He could hardly enunciate anything beyond a grunt. He nodded and smacked his cock on that ass a few more times, using the fat cockhead to rub the precum into the shiny stretched-out material. "Ungh. Fuck yeah. Gonna fuck this big ass," he muttered, palming her cheeks with two hands, squeezing and rubbing them, then he bent down and pushed his face against her big warm ass, burying himself in there, feeling the warmth radiate with the thin cloth between them.

"Yes!" she grunted, and pushed her ass back, "That's my boy. Nasty nasty boy." She felt his face pushing in there, his nose trapped in her asscrack as it took deep whiffs of her crack, sniffing her freshly-soaped asscrack and damp pussy. His tongue and mouth licked at her crack too, at the super-damp and meaty curve of her pussylips, mouth moving over to lick and suck at the wet shiny spots he knew his fat throbbing cock had put there.

Nathan finally pulled back a bit, and with his and his mother's fingers both tugging at her waistband, they got those sweatpants to slowly slide off her huge ass, until the waistband was right at the top of her thighs, pushing her asscheeks up, that big bare ass right in front of him with just a thin black thong disappearing between her juicy round asscheeks.

"Oh, Mom!" he gasped and dived his face back in, fumbling at her thong with his fingers until he was able to pull it to the side and get his wet tongue right on her tight crinkled asshole.

"OhhhhHHH!" his mother gasped loud, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth together, panting faster as she started to feel him try and wiggle his tongue-tip into her asshole, while one of his hands went to her sensitive pussylips, slowly rubbing them with his fingers in a circle. "Yesss you bastard! You know how to fuck? C'mon and fuck me then. FUCK me!"

Nathan had been tasting her deep inside that asshole, he pulled up, his face red, and put his cock right in her asscrack. He started humping that thick teen cock up and down her asscrack as it was squeezed by her meaty asscheeks. His mother threw her hair back and sat up a little, looking back over her shoulder and smiling.

He reached forward and under her arms, putting his hands on her big warm heavy breasts. She said "Let me help you with that," and before he knew it, her bra was off, shirt pulled up, and his mother's big warm bare tits were in his hands, the hard nipples poking at his palms, while his oozing, throbbing cock pumped up and down her asscrack.

He leaned in and smelled her hair as she worked her ass back against him. It was too much, he started grunting and panting, pressing into her really hard, as she turned her head back and asked "Ooo?"

She then gasped as she felt thick warm cum start to splatter, shooting all over the curve of her lower back and asscheeks. She just stay in position, smiling, bucking her hips slightly against that cock now and again, as Nathan squeezed her big tits hard and pumped her asscrack, his cock finally calming down, still hard and resting in her now cum-slick asscrack, with thick pungent pearly-white semen splattered all down her lower back and round asscheeks, slowly congealing and dripping down. His mouth stayed open wide as he breathed through it roughly in and out, some spots of spit launched from it onto his mother's ear.

As Nathan came down he blinked his eyes and looked at the surroundings, the kitchen he'd known for so many years, and his loving mother right there in front of him. The two of them touching skin-to-skin where his hands were, and elsewhere. He blinked again, it was like being able to see through fog, momentarily. "M-uh-Mom?"

"Yes dear?"

"Do you think those pills...I mean, that Dr. Hendricks gave us...do you think, maybe?...well..."

"Huhh??" his mother looked back at him, blinking her eyes.

"I mean, like...Mom, when think about it, unngh," his cock twitched as it rubbed between her cheeks. "I mean, when you think about it, isn't this way out of character for us to..."

She growled and reached between her legs, "You little bastard, you're not getting out of this without giving me some of that big fucking cock!" She grabbed his hard cock, guided it into her pussy, and started to pump her hips back on him.

"Aaahh...FUCK!" he moaned out. The fog over his vision was back. He put his hands on her hips, feeling some sticky splattered cum under his palms, and started to thrust into his mother's pussy as she bucked back on him.

"This pussy is sooo good," he moaned, "So fucking hot, damn. FUCK!" Rubbing his hands all over her big ass as it bounced, rubbing the cum into her ass as his cock went balls-deep into his mother's hot wet pussy, her hips meeting him just right, her ass slapping off his hips at every thrust.

After a while she pulled off and smiled at him, "I need to get these pants off!" She rolled off onto her back and Nathan helped her strip down completely. She lay back on the kitchen floor, naked, her legs spread wide, as Nathan was fully naked too. He grabbed the base of his cock and thrust it back up her pussy, leaning over her as he fucked his mother's cunt, two arms around her, holding her, watching her face, watching her expression as his mother enjoyed a big thick cock fucking her horny wet pussy. Her son's cock. He looked down further and watched her big soft firm breasts bouncing in time with their fucking. They were mesmerizing.

He thrust in deep and ground that horny hard cock up inside his mother, grinding it around in circles, then pulling out and fucking her at a steady rhythm again. She had her hands on him, running her hands up and down his chest, his straining arms that held her. "OOooh baby," she smiled at him. "Mmmm, fuck me, honey, fuck me like one of your girlfriends from school."

"Uuuungh!" he grunted, and thrust into her harder. He looked down at his mother, "Damn, Mom, you're better than any girl at school!" He leaned down and caught one of her big tits in his mouth, sucking on that bouncing tit-flesh, moving his mouth to the nipple and flicking his tongue on it, sucking and slurping on his mother's big tit as he kept pounding her pussy, making those tits shake, her hair starting to stick to her forehead as they were both so sweaty now.

Nathan switched his mouth to his mother's other breast. The one he left started to bounce more freely, dripping all the spit he'd left on it, as he tasted and sucked away at her other big sexy tit.

"You like that baby?" Sharon cooed down at her son. He nodded and mumbled with that tit in his mouth. "These tits are all yours then, you can fuck 'em anytime you want."

Nathan ran his tongue all over the smooth, soft and warm surface of her breast, tasting it as he kept fucking his mother's pussy. He felt her pussy tighten up, get hotter, and her eyelids flutter, "Oh baby, I think you're gonna make your Momma...oh shit...uuuunnnngh"

He grabbed both breasts with his hands and pushed them together, sucking on both nipples as they pointed upwards. His eyes looked up and watched his mother's expression as she started to cum, not letting up with his big cock fucking her pussy as she moaned and writhed through her orgasm.

As she started to come down her leaned up and put his lips against hers. It was the first time they'd kissed like this, her mouth opening up and letting her son's tongue slide in, then sucking at it hard. Sensual lips touching and sliding together, her mouth sucking on his tongue as his cock slowed up on her pussy, still thrusting deep.

She put a hand on his lower stomach and pushed him back, giving him a kiss on the nose, "Mmmph, just slow down, baby, give me a bit of a break, okay? That pussy's soooo tender right now, give it a break from that huge fucking cock." One of her hands ran up and down his chest, encouraging him that she wanted more, but that she just couldn't take any more in her pussy right then.

Nathan looked at his cock as he pulled it out, so big and thick and glistening with their juices. Without asking permission, he moved up and sat on his mother's stomach, putting his cock between her tits and starting to push them together.

She smiled at him, "Oooh, baby," her hands with their painted fingernails going to her breasts too, pushing them together firmly till his cock was enveloped in so much warm soft tit-flesh. Nathan bit his lip and started to thrust up and down in his mother's big tits. He shuddered when she extended her tongue downward and gave a lick to his fat cockhead every time it emerged from between her tits.

Sharon's back was getting sore from laying on the hard floor for so long, but she didn't pay attention to it for now, just keeping her eyes fixed up at her son as he fucked away at her big tits, getting them wet with his precum and her pussyjuice, her tongue licking out to taste her son's big cock.

She let him keep his hands on her tits, holding them together, as she ran her hands over his body, putting one hand at his ass and having him press forward, so she could put her lips around his fat cockhead and lock them on there, sucking at it, twirling her tongue around it, as his long thick shaft throbbed between her soft warm breasts. She felt that cockhead pushing out more precum drip by drip, and she sucked it all up and swallowed it down.

Sharon brought one of her hands to her mouth and got a few fingertips wet with her mouth and from his cock, then brought her hand up to his mouth and hissed "Suck" as she attacked his cock with her mouth again. Nathan moaned and sucked, licked, and drooled on her fingers.

His hands were on her large breasts, pressing them together on his cock and loving the feeling of his mother making out with his oozing cockhead, he gasped and jumped a little as he felt her hand caressing one of his asscheeks, the fingertips already in his crack, putting some pressure against his asshole.

"Don't worry, baby," his mother looked up at him with such wide, sexy eyes. "You ever take anything in this tight teen ass of yours?" Nathan shook his head, his cock throbbing. Before he knew it, she'd slid one wet finger inside him, and began to probe deeper. "That's a pity, baby...we can explore things together, all sorts of sexy things."

She wrapped her lips back around his cock and sucked harder, bobbing her head and letting him fuck her mouth a bit as that cock pumped between her tits. She wiggled a second finger up his tight asshole and started to move them in and out as she felt his cock swell to immense size. His eyes were closed and his mouth open.

He gave a slight warning, "Oh FUCK Mom, I'm gonna...aarggghhgh". She felt his ass tighten up on her fingers as she left them deep inside him, big pulses moving through his cock that shot thick loads of cum deep in her mouth. A shot hit her throat and made her gag and cough a bit, releasing his cock into the open air, as it kept shooting cum and bobbing. He shot streaks of cum into her face and hair, on her round bare tits, and even on the kitchen cabinets behind her, until his load was emptied and he spent the last drops on the curves of her large breasts.

She pulled her fingers out and just watched him sitting on her body as he came down, his hands pressed against the warm flesh of her body. 

Finally she broke the silence, "I'd love to stay all day like this, Nathan honey, but for one thing I'm not as young as i used to be, and my back is kind of hurting, aaaand," she craned her neck to look at the clock, "I think your sisters should have been home 20 minutes ago, so we might want to start cleaning up," she laughed.

SATURDAY NIGHT

Nathan sat back on the couch in the basement, legs spread out, eyes zoned-out watching the screen as his hands worked the video game controller. His whole midsection tingled with a pleasant soreness, and right now his exhausted cock was resting inside a pair of boxer shorts featuring the Joker, the only item of clothing he was wearing.

Suddenly a familiar purple can with Japanese writing was thrust into his view. He followed the hand that held it up the arm, to the shoulder, and then the face of his mother smiling at him over the couch.

He hit Pause on the controller and grabbed the can. Suddenly he was feeling very thirsty. He popped it open and took a big drink. He felt a drop running down his chin as he asked, "Geez Mom, that's great, where'd you get it?"

"Dr. Hendricks, of course," she spoke slowly walking around the couch. "She had a six-pack rushed over today. I wonder if he was her personal courier, quite a cute young man, I was thinking--"

"Oh Geez, Mom!" Nathan interrupted her as he moved the can from his face after another gulp and saw her standing in front of him, illuminated by the glow of the paused game graphic on the large television.

Sharon smiled and patted her hair with her hand, lifting one leg up so it was just on its toes as she pivoted it, "Do you like how I look, honey?"

She had showered, but hadn't had much time to style her hair, so it was just pulled back in a loose ponytail. On her top she wore a T-shirt that said "Candy's Strip Club" - Nathan remembered the day his father brought it home as a "gag" from an "office party", and the trouble it caused between his parents; she must have fished it out deep from her father's closet, as he hadn't seen it since. When she turned to the side, he could see the way her heavy round braless tits pressed the material out. It was tied up underneath, so it showed off her flat stomach and bellybutton, under which she wore some tight black bootyshorts which let part of her thick mature asscheeks hang out in the open air. Her long muscular legs led down to a pair of platform heels.

"Shit yeah, Mom. But fuck, I thought you said earlier we were gonna take a break 'til tomorrow?"

Sharon shrugged her shoulders and said, "I guess I got impatient. Finish your drink, baby." He made glugging sounds, emptying the can, as she ran her hands over her body and danced to some music only she could hear. She looked at the screen, "Fun game?"

Nathan put the can aside and wiped his lips, "Yeah, I finish one more mission, I get to fuck this big-ass black chick up the ass."

Sharon laughed and walked over slowly, hand on her hip, swinging her hips as she walked, "They allow that now, really? I think you need a bit more parental supervision." She leaned forward and put her hand under Nathan's chin, kissing his lips gently. She pulled back an inch, "You like big ass, huh? I fuckin' noticed that." He moaned and nodded.

His mother pulled back, turned around, and leaned forward as she put a hand on top of Nathan's head, pulling his head into her ass as she pushed it back into his face. She gasped when she felt his warm breath and warm lips and tongue touch her. "Oooh baby, I love how you treat your Momma's big ass, you treat it with respect, mmm."

Nathan rubbed her big asscheeks in his hands as he rubbed his nose and mouth on the mound of her pussy and the deep crack of her ass. "Fuck Mom, where'd you get these shorts, they're fucking wild," he said, and slapped her ass once hard.

"MMm, fuck yeah, spank me baby. Oooh, I got them from Monica's drawers, makes me wonder what those girls get up to outside the house!" She swung her ass side-to-side in front of his face, "Give me another good spank then I'll pull them off for you!"




A Cure for Depression



Nathan wound up and spanked his mother's ass, loud enough so the sound echoed and she jumped a bit. She looked back at him, her eyes on fire, "Oh, that's hard enough! Haha, you're a little devil, aren't you?" She put her hands in her waistband and wiggled her shorts off her hips, Nathan gasping as he saw the big round asscheeks of his mother revealed, with no underwear at all underneath.

He leaned in forward to spread her ass and lick it, but she playfully slapped his face once and then put a hand on his shoulder, "Ah-ah, not that way, baby. Why don't you just lean back?"

Sharon laid her son down on his back on the couch, then lay on top of him, her face over his crotch, and her ass lowering over his face. "Mmm, here you go, Nate, your sisters are upstairs watching TV, so you're gonna need to be veeeery quiet," she giggled, and sat her bare ass on his face. She moaned and closed her eyes as she felt his tongue start right away to lick at her asshole, any muffled words drowned out by all the big mature ass resting on his face.

"Fuck!" she moaned out, then bit her lip. Her hands groped at her own tits through her shirt, then she just tugged and pulled to get the shirt off her head roughly, until she could freely rub and caress her own large tits. She mumbled to herself, "You're so fucking lucky, Sharon, got such a hot young big-dick stud right under your own roof."

Nathan was feeling so turned on, buried under so much of his mother's hot thick ass as it bucked and rubbed on his face. His hands rubbed and squeezed the cheeks, giving them an occasional slap, as his tongue entirely ignored her pussy, and just worked his mother's tight, crinkled asshole, licking it, kissing it, sliding his tongue in deep and twirling it all around as he tongue-fucked her asshole. He gasped into her big ass when he felt her face rub into his shorts-covered hard-on, feeling her hot breath on it, and then moments later he felt her lift his hips to help tug his shorts off, as his hard-again cock sprang free and pointed up into the air.

"God Damn, boy!" his mother exclaimed, as she rubbed her ass around on his face and put a hand around the girth of his cock, stroking it, while the other hand went down to rub his hot heavy balls, "Did you get bigger just in the last few hours?"

Nathan shrugged and dug his tongue deeper up his mother's asshole, flicking the tongue-tip around deep in her warm insides, and making her moan, feeling her spit down on his throbbing cock.

Mother and son rocked the couch like this for a time, Nathan's tongue up Sharon's asshole, his hands caressing and kneading her big asscheeks, while Sharon used both hands to handle her son's thick throbbing cock and big balls, her mouth licking and drooling all over his cockhead and shaft, closing her eyes to savour the taste.

Nathan, with his eyes closed and the pressure of all that ass on his face, was shocked when it was pulled away, like a baby pulled away from a breast. He popped his eyes open and saw his mother had already moved forward, she leaned over the far armrest, ass up in the air, a hand reaching back to spread her cheek and expose her spit-wet, slightly gaping asshole. She looked back at him, "That was nice and all, but I came down here to get some fucking cock in me." She wiggled her ass and gave a sexy groan of need.

He hopped up and got right in position behind her ass, stroking his cock and looking down at her asshole as he grazed the head of his cock against it, "Oh God, Mom I'm gonna fuck your ass!"

"Yeahhh baby, you wanna fuck Mommy's ass, don't you?" He grunted and started pushing in. "Yeah, show me what a grown man you are now, man enough to fuck my shitter!"

Nathan gasped and thrust his hips forward, a couple inches of his thick cock sliding up her asshole, "Oh Mom, you're so dirty."

Sharon closed her eyes as she felt her son's cock start to slide into her. Her toes curled as she realized she could feel his heartbeat through his big cock entering her tight forbidden backdoor.

Nathan held her hips and worked more and more of his cock into her ass, pumping it in and out and getting deeper, feeling her open up for him as she squeezed him so tight. Sweat started to pour down his forehead and the rest of his body as he moved that cock in and out of her asshole. "Oh Mom, that's the fuckin ultimate, mmm, just fuckin your big ass, so turned on, FUCK!" He smacked her ass and kept riding her.

She threw her hair around, trying to get it off her back since her skin felt so hot, her whole body on fire. "Fuck my ass baby, this ass is yours now, it belongs to you. It's your asshole." She reached between her legs to rub and finger her own pussy as her son laid his big cock in and out of her squeezing asshole.

Nathan ran his hands up her sweaty back, then reached forward to cup her big tits in his hands as he fucked her, getting that cock deeper up her asshole, just grunting and breathing hot right into her ear.

Sharon shuddered as she felt his fingers start to play with her hard nipples, squeezing and rubbing them, giving them a slight twist. "OOoh baby, that's it, be a fuckin' animal, let the animal out, I just want my son to feel better, that's what this is all about."

Nathan kept pumping away deep and hard, till one moment his cock slipped out. It gave them a chance to change positions, his mother laying on the couch on her side, legs pulled up so that her breasts almost pressed against her knees, as Nathan stayed standing up, sliding his cock back up her asshole as he palmed her round ass and looked into his mother's eyes.

"Mmm, God Mom, I've got an anal fetish like you won't believe, all the porn I've got is fucking anal!"

Sharon reached back and slapped her ass, making it shake all over as Nathan worked his cock in and out of there, splitting her asscheeks with his thick cock. "Mmm, I'll be your anal whore for you now, baby, you can fuck my ass day and night, you don't even have to fuck my pussy first...you fucking like that?" Her glittering eyes looked up at him.

"OH MOM!" Nathan squeezed his eyes shut together. He thrust in a few more times, hard and rough, making his mother gasp with some pain, then collapsed forward on her as his cock exploded in her ass, filling it with shot after shot of semen, as he nuzzled his face into her body, his open mouth dripping drool that ran to her tits.

A few minutes later, catching his breath, he said, totally unnecessarily, "I nutted in your ass, Mom."

Sharon smiled and patted him with her hand, "That's a good boy."

He opened his eyes and tried to focus, "I think I'm spent for today though."

She patted his bare ass, "Why don't you fetch yourself another drink from the fridge, then we can talk about it," she smiled at him.

MONDAY

Gladys buzzed on the intercom, "Sharon and Nathan Jones here to see you, ma'am. Er, Doctor."

Jackie looked at the clock on the wall, it was just half past one. "This early?" She shrugged, "OK, send them in." She closed the file folders she was working on.

Mother and son walked in. Jackie could see the change right away. Nathan was clean-cut, in a pair of new designer jeans that hugged his package in front and his tight ass in back, and a short-sleeved polo shirt that was thin enough to show the definition of his muscles. He led his mother in, holding her hand, and she wore a black pinstriped business suit, but her silk blouse was unbuttoned to show off the top of her lacy black bra, and she wore several thick gold chains of jewelry around her neck, with various charms like a model gold handgun and pot leaf hanging off them. Her glasses were pushed up on top of her head.

Jackie invited them to sit down, and Nathan sat on one of the seats, while his mother perched her ass on his knee.

Jackie smiled at them, putting the fingertips from each hand together, "Looks like we've made some progress already."

Sharon reached down to rub Nathan's inner thigh, "Yes, we wanted to just stop by and thank you. We took the day off to...enjoy...the new, positive feelings."

Jackie said, "Just remember to keep taking the medication, it's only effective on a regular schedule! Aaaand," she fished around in a box on her desk until she pulled out a card and handed it over, "You'll probably need this. Tell them I sent you."

Sharon took the card and looked at it, reading aloud in a neutral tone, "Divorce Lawyers."

"They're the best," Jackie said. "In that, they're crooked, and good at it. Now I'll just need to make some new appointments..."

Nathan was rubbing his mother's back up and down slowly through her jacket, he spoke up, "Appointments?"

"Yes," Jackie cleared her throat, "Sharon, you mentioned you had two daughters?"

THE END



A Cure for Depression



I was suffering a lot from depression since the bout of a drug obsession and all the time, I was being falsely advised to keep on taking Ecstasy and I would feel on top- of the world, but of course when I ran out of money and could not afford anymore I was really in the doldrums and next to suicide.

It was like a guardian Angel turned up out of nowhere in the form of a guy I had known at high school, who remembered me quite well but I had forgotten him.

He took me in after seeing me perched hopelessly in a shop front and let me have my own room in which I could slowly recover given the heed of this guy called Stefan.

When we spoke more it suddenly dawned on me who he was, I remember the other scholars teasing him because of his sexual leaning, but I befriended him because I sincerely liked him as a buddy and never more.

He told me he had never forgotten that and thought of us as still good buddies and that is why he wanted to help me regain my confidence and everything..

Somehow, during our deep meaningful conversations I got to lay my head upon his chest and when he started to gently stroke my cheek I felt warm and right. 

One thing led to another and just the simple touch of his fingers rimming my lips aroused something in me that had been dormant for so very long. But I realised then my feeling for Stefan were much more than just friendly because I was enjoying his touch and so, after wiping my tears away, consoling me after he had got me to get all the nasty things in my life out of my mind I felt the warmth of his hand teasing my chest. It was lovely and warm and I felt so close to him, that when he gently pulled off my polo necked shirt and my chino's I felt so benevolent towards him.

There was no need for more words, the words had been spoken and now it was time for quietness as we both sensed the new joy of each other's touch, and the swell of his arousal like it was the most natural thing in the world, even when he went down to me, pacifying me all the time with kisses.

I closed my eyes and simply let what happened happen. . His grasp on my hand prompted me there, to feel him over those skin tight blue briefs in which he looked so alluring. I so loved feel of him through the soft silky material and felt him grow.

"It is all for you. Peter," he whispered and that set me off to go the whole hog and tease the seam aside to watch his cock pop out like a Jack in the Box and it was divine, we both chuckled at that but not for long because the taste of him in my mouth was automatic and for the forstti8me ever I was instinctively sucking cock like there was no tomorrow and there was Stefan feeling me two, over and under my briefs until we were both enraptured in a so wonderful oral escapade of sheer delight, him sucking me and me him, the sucking, the balling and everything combined to make it so beautiful and lovely.

Now all may tears had gone, and that was thanks to Stefan who had introduced me to my new self, a self of which I was unaware until I met Stefan again and when I felt his hands stretching me wide open it was so good to feel his mouth sink into me there, giving me all sorts of wonderful and thrilling feelings I had never known before, feeling I never thought would have given me so much pleasure and joy, as much as did the new experience of being like that for Stefan with no inhibitions at all, I looked down to watch him there, the taste of his earthy cock embellished in my mouth as I balled him, the sheer wonder of it all, seeing the way he was licking my all over and sucking my asshole like he was so hungry. I heard myself whimpering with pleasure and his sucks were so divine. He'd got me do worked up I wanted to feel that gorgeous cock of his stuffed deep up my asshole and no seeing, that was what he was doing to me, all that licking and sucking and teasing with his fingers, rimming and stretching me wide open.

He knew the need for him was urgent, his passion was mine also, I sucked him some more, balled him too as he well rubbed into me some lubrication which felt smooth and wonderful; I so wanted the feel of his fuck. I yelled out that I wanted him now!!

He showed me how to present myself for him. On all fours he kneeled up behind and I felt the first insertion penetrate me . He worked it into me until he pot a full penetration and I knew he was all inside feeling his balls bunched against my inner thighs as he began to fuck me.

He did it to me and it was all so wonderfully gratifying, that I felt more on top of the world than ever I did with ecstasy, although being with Stefan and feeling his fuck was equally as addictive.



A Cure for her 'Daddy Issues'



Note to the reader: I love engaging in online roleplays because it helps insert some female perspective into the story. I always appreciate feedback from readers, but I'm particularly interested in the female perspective, so leave a comment! 

*

It was a day like any other for Jeff, he was at his daughter's house babysitting his 2 year old granddaughter Emma while his own daughter, Cynthia, was out running errands. He didn't really mind--he loved how involved his daughter wanted him to be with her family, and his granddaughter was the most well-mannered two year old he had ever known. The only thing that ate at him was how often his son was absent; always away on business leaving his daughter to fend for herself. It would be a bit different if he were actually successful at sales and could provide for his family--but somehow money was always short and Jeff found himself pitching in where he could--toys and diapers for the granddaughter, and even lately Cynthia was asking him to pay for a pottery class that she was taking at night. Again, he didn't mind; he wanted Cynthia to get out of the house a couple of nights a week and have an activity to do with other adults. 

What quietly burned inside Jeff was the fact that his daughter never could pick the right guy, it was always the asshole that never really cared for her--and it was all his fault. 

He thought back to the day she was married--he was walking her down the aisle still confused why, at 22, she would be so eager to marry a guy she had known all of 3 months. It was not until a few months later--and at a full 7 months and 1 day from her wedding day, Emma was born. Jeff loved his granddaughter very much, but he saw the price that Cynthia had to pay--an absent father and husband, unable to fully support them and, worse still, he did not really see love in Cynthia's eyes for her husband Chris. It's at this point that most father's ask themselves 'Where did I go wrong' and 'What more could I have done?' But Jeff already knew where he went wrong with raising his daughter Cynthia, why she always went for the best looking guy with the worst of intentions. In fact, he could tell you the exact day. 

It was not even 10am on a busy day at his office when he received a call from Cynthia's high school principal. He informed Jeff that she was suspended for wearing inappropriate clothing to school and that he'd have to come by right away to pick her up. There was nothing he could do but call his wife and have her pick Cynthia up. He knew he was a pushover when it came to his daughter--she was obviously trying to avoid the wrath of her mother by having her principal call him, but he simply couldn't pull himself away from work. How he regretted that decision in retrospect... 

His wife Audrey was constantly over-reacting to everything as Cynthia reached adulthood. Turning 18 several months before graduation had given her a sense of freedom she had not yet earned, and she was constantly testing boundaries with her mother--boundaries Jeff thought were appropriate for a young girl that would soon be out in the world and learning lessons on her own. 'Better to make mistakes now, where the consequences are much less...' he would constantly say to his wife, only to receive a scathing rebuttal in return. Then she would launch into what a pushover he was with her, how it was not enabling her to make her own decisions, it was just coddling her. 'Seriously Jeff, you still have that ridiculous nickname you've been calling her since she was 5--it's not normal to call your 18 year old daughter 'Babygirl' anymore.' He just rolled his eyes, his wife never seemed to understand that no matter how old Cynthia was, she would always be his little girl; more precisely his 'babygirl.'

This day was altogether different. When he got home at 7pm that night, he could tell his wife was visibly upset and his daughter upstairs in her bedroom--probably crying her eyes out, he said to himself. After calming his wife down from her erratic explanation, he assured her that this was just yet another boundary she was testing and that clothing was a sign of individuality and adulthood. Audrey's eyes went wide, 'you haven't seen what she was wearing Jeff! She looked like a complete SLUT.' He cringed at the harsh words coming from his wife. He reassured himself that it wasn't that bad, and went upstairs, knocking on Cynthia's door, Audrey close behind him. 

'Go away' she said between sobs, crying on her bed, in just a t-shirt and gym shorts, her outfit balled up lying on her bedroom floor. 

'Babygirl, I just want to talk' Jeff said, his wife already giving him a disappointed look before the conversation even started. 'Cynthia, I'm coming in okay?' he said opening the door and walking inside.

'Daddy I don't want to talk about it, you won't understand.' 

Her mother already chiming in 'Oh I understand perfectly, you meant to look like a little TRAMP and embarrass us as parents.' 

Jeff shot back quickly, 'Audrey, quiet. This isn't about YOU, so let's see what Cynthia has to say.' 

Cynthia loved her father so very much, especially at moments like these. He always seem to implicitly understand her, what she needed, how as she straddled being an kid all her life and was now an adult--how confused she was. She wasn't exactly sure how to articulate it, but she knew that she wanted more attention, and that she craved it from boys. All her life there was only her father, hugs, encouragement, he was there at every turn for her emotionally, psychologically, even physically when she needed a hug. It was her mother that started putting an end to their relationship as soon as she was 13. All of the sudden it wasn't lady like to come bouncing up to daddy as he came home from work, sitting on his lap telling him about her day and all that happened in his life.

In all honesty, Jeff missed it too. But Cynthia was an early bloomer and that did not escape him and especially not Audrey. All of the sudden it was inappropriate for her to sit on his lap or hug as often as they did. Fast forwarding to Cynthia at 18--she was a gorgeous 5'5 blonde with 32C-25-36 measurements. Bouncing up to daddy and throwing her arms around him usually meant her sizeable teenage breasts being pressed against him. While Jeff wasn't sure about his daughter's bra size, he knew his wife was a B cup at most and that his daughter's tits were much bigger. It was almost as if Audrey was jealous of the attention he lavished on Cynthia; and constantly interrupting any bonding moment a father and daughter might have together.

At any rate, Cynthia started to explain to her parents in the most subtle way that she could that she was 18, an adult now, and could choose her own wardrobe. Audrey stared daggers at Jeff sitting on Cynthia's bed, touching her hand as he calmed her and explained that, while she was an adult that could make her own decisions, that those decisions came with consequences. Namely that she was suspended from school and that it was unacceptable for him, as a parent, to have a child without a high school diploma. 

She nodded, agreeing with his logic when her mother burst in with 'Jeff she is NOT going to get off the hook that easy, you didn't see what she was wearing!'

Jeff, looking at Cynthia with his back turned to his wife, rolled his eyes and then casually turned around saying 'She learned her lesson, there will still be consequences here at home in addition to her suspension at school.' 

His wife stomped her way over to the floor where Cynthia's outfit laid and picked it up--a purple top with jean skirt--nothing that stood out immediately to Jeff. He looked back at Cynthia with a short laugh... 'So what was the big deal?' Audrey immediately threw the clothes at Cynthia, demanding that she put them on. Jeff rolled his eyes again, walking out of the room, 'Alright, alright, go ahead and put it on.' As Audrey walked out of the room, satisfied with the resolution and knowing Jeff would be outraged just as much as she was, Jeff turned to close the door and saw how nervous his daughter was at putting on the outfit in question. 

He didn't think much of it until he heard a soft voice say 'Okay, come in daddy.'

There stood Cynthia at the center of her bedroom, her flawless 18 year old body facing away from him. The purple top open at the neckline and falling off her left shoulder, the jean skirt barely long enough to cover her bottom, and a little white gstring poking out the top of her skirt. He stood there, speechless, staring at his little girl as she turned around to face him. His eyes immediately roaming over her tight teenage body, but staring incredulously at her pert 34C tits—it was so loose around the neckline that it was falling off her shoulder. He felt his cock twitch in his shorts, knowing that he shouldn't think about his little girl as the desirable woman she was--assuring himself that it was only a natural reaction. He was regaining his senses, looking up at her beautiful face, her golden blonde hair falling in front of her face, partially hiding her innocent smile. A smile so innocent that it could only be an attempt to compensate for the incredibly naughty outfit she had on... 

Too many seconds had passed before Jeff had said anything, and his wife grew more and more certain that her husband's eyes were not objectively evaluating their daughter's outfit, but rather enjoying what he was seeing in front of him. 'Jeff!' she exclaimed, before growing even more hysterical. "She's your OWN DAUGHTER for Christ sakes!' Jeff immediately took his eyes off his daughter, responding curtly to Audrey that it was an inappropriate but that didn't change anything he said prior to seeing it.

'She's still grounded and suspended like she should be.'

But the damage was already done. From that point on, Jeff felt ashamed for those few precious seconds he looked at his daughter, knowing he shouldn't have. Audrey grew further apart from Jeff, assured that he was some sort of pervert and certainly not interested in her anymore. And worse still, Jeff distanced himself from Cynthia, and valuable lessons of right and wrong, especially when it came to getting the right kind of attention from the right boys went unlearned....

It was only months before Cynthia's wedding, 4 years later, that Audrey had died in a car accident. It was a shock to Jeff for certain, but there was little love left in their marriage. Cynthia, who had long since dropped out of community college in a neighboring town, came back for the funeral. She stayed with her father for a couple of weeks, both of them still not addressing that fateful day, and she eventually got a place with some friends while waiting tables at a local steakhouse. She was constantly going out to all the wrong clubs, looking for all the wrong kinds of attention, and finally met Chris. From there--well I suppose that brings us to Jeff at present. 

Part 2

With Cynthia still not home from her grocery run, and Emma already down for the evening, he went to Cynthia's computer in the living room to check his email. He was surfing through some recent articles on the European debt crisis, knowing his portfolio was a little overexposed to financial institutions in both France and Switzerland. "Thank god that at least the Swiss kept their own currency' he said to himself as he saved one relevant article to the desktop. He was writing a quick email to a client, then clicked 'attach to email' when a previous directory came up. His life, at that moment, changed forever. The most recent attachments all came from this folder--and it was filled with nude and semi-nude photos of Cynthia. He cock stirred in his boxers, just like they did 7 years ago. He knew he should pry any further, but something deep inside him made him find the root directory and start scrolling through the photos of his 25 year old daughter....

His cock was only growing inside his pants as the photos got more and more 'lewd.' He tried to assure himself that was the proper word for what he was seeing; trying to convince himself that he didn't find his daughter's body attractive. About halfway through, he was in for another surprise--the photographer started to enter the shots; and they were not Cynthia's husband Chris. It was some other man. His jaw dropped; he had never cheated on Audrey, even after their loveless marriage grew apart. How could his own daughter drift so far from any sense of moral decency? He remembered the asshole husband she did have, but this was about more than that. She was obviously bouncing from terrible guy to even more terrible guy. Right then and there, Jeff decided something had to be done. Valuable lessons that she should have learned at 18, before she left her parents house, would need to be taught--and not just for Cynthia's sake, but Emma as well. She couldn't grow up with Cynthia as an example--she would turn out the exact same way. He sent a couple of pictures with her and this mysterious boy toy to his own private email address, and quickly cleared the entire cache before shutting down her computer. When Cynthia came home, Jeff quietly and quickly helped put everything away, assuring her that Emma was a perfect angel and had been sound asleep for the last hour. He left rather quickly, but Cynthia didn't seem to understand why. 

It was only a couple of days later when Cynthia called Jeff to ask to babysit Emma, yet again. This was a typical Thursday night--it was Cynthia's pottery class. She was gathering her things up quickly while Emma played on the living room floor with some toys, giving her father some hurried instructions for the evening. Jeff wanted to say something, but decided to wait until after she came home. He still was uncertain of what to say, or how to teach his lesson, although he had the general idea and realized that he would need her full attention. 

It was at 9pm, the time when Cynthia usually got home, that he got a text on his phone stating that she would be home in an hour--that she was going out with some classmates for after-class drinks. He rolled his eyes, wondering how she could lie to her own father, and decided to add 'lying' to the list of things he would need to correct. At 10pm, another text explaining 'Just another hour, sorry PopPop!' He grew more impatient, and while he loved how Emma called him 'PopPop' instead of grandpa (which he felt was appropriate--after all at 45 he was NOT that old), he resented it coming from Cynthia. He remembered a time when she was a good girl and called him daddy--things were so much easier then. He decided to add it to the ever growing list.

At 11:45, he heard a car roll up the driveway, quickly dropping her off and without much thought pull back out, leaving Cynthia in the driveway.

'Shit!' Cynthia thought to herself, realizing she had on her 'going out top' on, and a pair of skintight jeans. Definitely not the clothes she left the house in. She also knew she had kept her father waiting longer than she had promised, so he would probably be waiting up for her. She glanced down at her top, it was soft black material lightly draped over her now 34D tits, exposing them from the side as well as showing her cleavage from the front. Cynthia loved how after breast feeding Emma they never seemed to reduce back to their old size of 32C. And while they were heavier, they were still perky as ever. In fact, there was no wearing a bra with THIS top. She loved the effect it had on men--free drinks at the bar, getting out of a speeding ticket--getting attention was never a problem. She quickly came back down to earth and decided the only way to do this was to go straight through the front door, claiming that she had to go to the bathroom quickly--no way could her dad see her in this top.

She opened the front door, shocked to find her father standing directly in front of her. Her eyes wide, almost full of shock, uncertain of what her plan was,

Jeff flicked on the light to both the porch and the living room. 'How was your evening Cynthia?' He asked in a lower tone of voice, letting her know that the question was rhetorical. His eyes glanced down at his daughter in her little top, silently adding it to his list, and slowly realizing that this was the logical starting point for his talk.

'Daddy!' the words almost unconsciously coming out of her mouth like she was 18 again, being caught sneaking out. 'I.. Umm... It was fine, I just really have to pee!' she said trying to walk past her father as he stood in front of her. 

'Certainly' he responded, letting her pass. As she ran up the stairs he said 'hurry back down, I need to leave soon. And don't bother changing...' Jeff added the last point for emphasis.

'Shit!' She said to herself, going through the motions in the bathroom and quickly flushing the toilet and giving herself a look in the mirror as the water ran. She tried to gather a bit of confidence and started putting a story together. She walked downstairs, asking her dad if Emma had been a little angel and went to bed without much protest, Jeff assured her that she had. He was sitting on the couch a kitchen chair brought into the living room and placed only 2 feet away from where he sat. 

'Have a seat Cynthia, I was hoping to talk to you.'

'Yeah I'm really sorry about how late I was, it was just a great night with some girls from class--we went out for a few too many drinks, but Rebecca drove us all home so no worries.' She said hesitating at sitting down in the chair.

'That's nice, now why don't you sit down and tell me about your evening Cynthia.'

A wave of doubt and guilt started to fill in her stomach--she felt EXACTLY like a teenager again. She sat down, her arms folded over themselves, trying to hide her naughty little going out top. She sat there, directly across from her father, his eyes on hers, not saying a word and waiting for her to speak. 'It was a good time, just a couple of drinks with some girlfriends from class--you know.'

'I'm glad you had a good time,' Jeff started in, glancing down at his daughter's luscious globes barely covered by her loose fitting top. He looked back up at her, watching her squirm in her chair. Despite being a 25 year old woman and mother of one, he noticed how nervous she looked--like she was a teenager all over again. 'Are you okay Cynthia? You seem very nervous all of the sudden, is something wrong?' He asked quizzically, his cock growing inside his boxers and slacks. He tried to put the thought of getting hard out of his mind--he was focused on what his daughter needed right now--someone to talk to and help get her on the right track.

'No, just wanting to change into something and get ready for bed.' She replied, feeling his eyes roam over her tits. While she obviously felt uncomfortable with her dad seeing her in her top, she still felt excited at the attention--she always felt excited when she could wear something that would force a man's eyes to her tits. She tried to suppress it for the time being, telling herself that it was her father not just some guy at the bar.

'You're not comfortable in this then? I mean, you did change INTO this top when you left, didn't you Cynthia?' Jeff replied, luring her into his trap.

'Well, I wear it when I go out. Not for pottery class, obviously dad....' She said unable to look him in the eye.

'I think I understand,' he said coldly, 'you change into this to meet strange men that give you a few nights of attention, right?'

'I don't know what you're talking about' she quickly retorted, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing even stronger, still unable to look her father in the eye.

Jeff picked up his smart phone, tapped a few keys and put it back down. Seconds later her phone beeped with a new text message. She opened it and immediate saw a picture of Thomas, her latest fuck, arm stretched out, smile on his face, and her mouth wrapped around her mouth. 'I found it while checking my email' Jeff quipped, answering a question she never asked aloud, but was ultimately curious about. 




A Cure for her 'Daddy Issues'



The sinking feeling in her stomach doubled over, she was absolutely mortified. 'Daddy I can explain.' the 25 year old Cynthia pleaded, her voice slipping into that of a guilty teenager, her mind subconsciously using the word 'daddy' when she hadn't used it in years. 

'You don't need to Cynthia--I already know what you're going to say.' He sighed, in response. 'You are addicted to the attention, you love how men look at you, you want them to want you--and you dress and play the part. You are sacrificing your own marriage to your addition.' He stressed, letting his words sink in. 

Tears rolled from her eyes, not only knowing that he was right, but that her addiction went much deeper. There was something about the animalistic look when a man stared at her tits--and mostly her ability to make a man's cock rock hard, the fact she could do it with such ease. Flirting was one thing, and she had done it hundreds of times, but once she saw a cock that she had made hard, she had to have it. She thought about Thomas, obviously out for just a fling with a married woman--no need to take on her baggage that way. She knew her father was right, and continued to sob. 

'Stand up, arms at your sides Cynthia' she heard her father say. She obeyed instinctively, standing in front of her father. 'Now take your top off.' He instructed, not a hint of emotion in his voice.

Her eyes wide at the request, 'But.. But...' she stammered between sobs, 'I don't understand.'

'You want this kind of attention don't you Cynthia? You want men to look at your body, to want every inch of it, so show it to me.' He said, knowing this would be the hardest lesson he ever had to teach, and that he should have done it years ago--but he would have to stick to the plan. She looked at him, almost completely helpless, as if trying to say something. But he sat in front of her, looking up at her with a stone face, expecting her top off. She grasped the flimsy material and pulled it up over her head, her youthful 25 year old breasts bouncing softly as she put her arms back at her sides. 'How big are your breasts Cynthia?' he inquired, staring up at them, his breathing increasing and his cock solidifying in his pants.

'34D' she said sheepishly, not able to look him in the eye. 

'Your jeans too, Cynthia.' He said in that same monotone voice. This time something inside her told her not to protest, but to just unzip and slide them off. She wiggled the waist past her hips and let them fall past her knees, down around her ankles, and stepped out of them.

'And this is the kind of attention you want?' Jeff asked with a bit of anger in his voice, his daughter starting to sob again, unable to answer him. He wondered how far he would have to go with her to prove his point, and her lack of response to his latest question made him decide to confront his own demons. He stood up in front of her, peeling his shirt over his head, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly--he grasped the waistband of his slacks and his boxers with his thumbs and took his pants down. 

Cynthia looked on in absolute astonishment as her father removed his clothes in front of her. At 45 he looked a full 10 years younger--a fairly flat stomach and good build let her know he was in great shape, but she was completely unprepared for what happened next. As his pants slide down from his waist, his 8.5 inch cock (which was also almost 1.25 inches in diameter) sprang out and slapped against his stomach. She inhaled sharply; it was the most beautiful cock she had ever seen in her entire life.

After a couple of seconds of looking at one another--Jeff completely naked and his 25 year old daughter in just a pair of black lace boy-cut panties, he tried to make his point. He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking his daughter in the eye and said 'Cynthia you're a gorgeous woman, and it is only natural for any man, even your dad, to react physically to how you look. I used to be so ashamed of myself, and your mother used to beat me up for trying to deny the simple fact that you're attractive. But sex, love, meaningful relationships are about more than physical attraction. It's about the other person genuinely caring for you AND being physically attracted to you.' He was looking at his daughter, he knew this last ditch effort to explain things to his daughter was extreme, but he felt a sense of pride in confronting his shame and helping her understand love. As he looked at his daughter's face, he could not tell if the lesson had registered, and doubt plagued him as seconds of silence passed.

Cynthia's bare chest heaved as her breathing increased rapidly--she was staring at her father's growing erection--an erection that she caused with her own sexy body. Her pussy flooding with wetness, knowing that she wanted her own father's cock inside her and trying to justify it to her conscious thoughts and the shred of morality that was left. Her father's speech was not lost on her--she listened to every word and that only made her longing worse. His final thought that love was about someone who genuinely cared for her and was attracted to her physically tore down the last barrier that was left in her mind--she knew that her father was the only man in her life to ever care for her, and his rock hard cock in front of her half naked body meant that he was also physically attracted to her. 

'Cynthia?' Jeff asked, wondering where her mind had been, her thoughts obviously not being translated into speech. A couple of seconds had passed, and without a word, he watched in shock as the lesson that he had so carefully prepared for his daughter went dangerously off track--as she silently looked up into his eyes and slid down onto her knees directly in front of him--never breaking eye contact. 'Ohhhh god Babygirl no!' he pleaded, feeling the guilt build up inside him but unable to move. He knew that he should have calculated the possibility she could be so addicted to sexual attention that she would want her own father--but he had dismissed the thought outright, preferring not to consider it.

Cynthia grasped the base of her father's penis, bring the tip of his dick to her mouth and lightly touching it with her tongue. She could feel the electricity move from her hand, from her tongue, through his cock and then register throughout his body as he pleaded with her. She loved the power she had over most men, especially at this point, but this was altogether new--and yet seemed like it had almost always been there; even while she was growing up. She looked up at her father, putting the entire head of his cock inside her mouth, her baby blues locked with his deep azure eyes. She closed her eyes while squeezing the base of his shaft, her mouth sliding further down his cock, not even making it halfway down.

'Uhhhhhh god Cynthia, what are you doing?' Jeff protested, watching his little girl take half his cock inside her mouth.

She slid his dick out of her mouth, looking up at her father, answering him, 'You're physically attracted to me, and you care about me, don't you daddy? Doesn't that make you the right man for me?' she asked in an incredibly innocent voice. Her eyes roaming over her father's cock, noticing every vein straining against his skin as she squeezed the base of his cock, not waiting for an answer to her question as she put it back inside her mouth and continued to suck him. It was such a magnificent cock, she thought to herself, letting her left hand slide down your tummy, down the front of her black lace panties, cupping her pussy--feeling how wet she was while she sucked her daddy off.

His eyes rolling back into his head at the pleasure his little girl was giving him, 'but.. but...' he stammered, 'but it's wrong. You're sooo beautiful and I care so much about you, but that doesn't mean we can act on our physical attraction... Cynthia I'm you're father...' His voice trailing off as his daughter's protest silently continued--her mouth carefully sliding up and down his shaft, wet with her saliva while her pussy was wet with her own juices.

After several seconds he felt his balls twitch under the onslaught--'Cynthia please, you have to stop' he said nearly begging, yet unable to wrest himself free from the loving grasp of his daughter's mouth around his cock. 'You HAVE to stop, you're.. you're going to make daddy cum... Do you understand?' he said trying to appeal to any sense of morality left in her and what the implications of such an act would be. It only turned her on to think about making her father cum, her left index finger now furiously circling over her little button underneath her panties. She stuck her tongue out while keeping her mouth around his cock, resting half his entire length on her tongue as the top of his cock slid past her top lip. 

Jeff had never had such an expert blowjob, but this went much deeper than that. He couldn't process the thought, however, as more and more blood escaped his brain and ran down to his rock hard cock, the cock that was inside his beautiful daughter's mouth. He looked down, completely lost in lust, watching her take his cock, her 34D tits slowly bouncing as she moved back and forth on it, and her hand inside her panties, fingering her pussy while she sucked him off. As soon as he felt her tongue envelop the lower half of his shaft, he knew was going to cum. The pressure to give in had given way as his hand reached down, running through her hair, and slowly he started to thrust against her hot little mouth, making himself cum. 

'Uhhhh babygirl, I'm cumming' was the only announcement he could make between breaths and Cynthia readied herself--she wanted her daddy's cum as soon as she saw his perfect cock. He continued to fuck her face for just a split second before he let loose--her lips wrapped tightly around the tip of his cock as she stroked the entire length of his shaft. Then suddenly cum erupted from his cock inside her mouth. It was too much of a load for her to handle, so before she started to choke, she pulled her mouth away just as another hot white rope of cum erupted from her father's cock, landing squarely on her nose, oozing down both of her cheeks. He pulled away just in time to land the last shot of cum on her magnificent breasts.

Looking down at his daughter, covered in his own cum, smiling up at him with the same innocent face she had when growing up--it was just too much for Jeff.. 'What have I done?!' He exclaimed to himself, quickly getting his pants on, grabbing his shirt and flying out the door...

Part 3

It was several days later after the 'incident' and her father hadn't returned a single one of her calls. She hadn't left a voicemail because she wasn't sure of what to say--and he hadn't pick up for the same reason. Cynthia was especially distraught because during and even now, after sucking her father off, nothing felt 'wrong' about it at all. She knew she crossed the taboo barrier of 'incest,' but this was a societal label for something only she and her father could understand. If anything, this was the best, albeit short-lived relationship she had ever had--because deep down she knew that he loved her and that it was not just physical. But god, how she loved how physical it was between them that night. Almost every night that week she thought back to her father's magnificent cock, sliding in and out of her mouth until he came not only in her mouth, but all over her face and tits. She had made herself cum over and over again at that same moment--remembering the feel of his white hot cum in her mouth, swallowing it, and letting it run down her face and her tits. It saddened her to think about the possibility it would never happen again--but if that's what she had to do to keep her father in her life--and Emma's too, perhaps it was time she became responsible and faced her addiction head on so that she could save whatever relationship remained with her father. She sighed at the thought, he really did have the perfect cock--would be such a shame never to see it again. 

Cynthia decided to call again, but this time she was going to leave a message. 'Hi Dad, it's me. Look, I know things got a little... Out of control the other night, but I want you to know that what you said got through to me. I ended everything with Thomas, I told him that I didn't want to see him ever again. And.. Well, I'm leaving Chris. I know that it will be just Emma and me, but it's better that way--I don't want her to grow up the wrong way--I want her to understand what love is. So, thank you Dad--for everything.' She hung up the phone, certain in what she had said and also noted that she had not once apologized for anything as she didn't feel that she had done anything wrong.

Jeff, still completely distraught over what happened, kept telling himself that he should have done something that night. Instead he just stood there and; well, enjoyed it. He knew that his lesson was risky, showing his daughter his erection went well past the normal social boundaries, but he thought it would be highly effective in proving his point about physical attraction. He never imagined that Cynthia would have put his manhood inside her mouth--or did he imagine it but not consider it as a possibility? Mental pictures of his daughter between his legs, sucking him until he blew his load all over her beautiful 25 year old body were still vivid in his mind, causing erection after erection. He had even jerked off once or twice thinking about her; ending up more ashamed afterwards. 

When he heard the phone ring he didn't answer--again--but after the voicemail registered on his phone, he eagerly picked it up and listened to what Cynthia had to say. Tears welled in his own eyes--despite how many lines were crossed that night, she did learn her lesson and was turning her life around. He immediately felt the guilt melt away. He felt vindicated, justified in what had occurred between a father and his daughter--it was a sort of 'shock therapy' that had gotten Cynthia back on the right track. His mind glossing over the fact it was the most beautiful woman he had ever met giving him the best blowjob he had ever had.

He called her back, expressing his happiness and apologizing for how far the lesson had gone, how he had never meant for it to end the way it did. Cynthia brushed that aside, explaining to him that things had been miserable for her for awhile--that she never really felt happy, just momentary and fleeting glances of it with attention from men. How she knew he was right and that she wanted to look for love that would last much longer and even after the guy came. Jeff nervously laughed, again overjoyed with Cynthia's turn around. He agreed to come over so they could talk more.

Cynthia had tears of joy in her eyes after the call with her father. She thought she might have lost him forever to guilt and shame--before she died, her mother had done plenty of that to her father and he had never done anything except take an interest in his daughter's life. It suddenly dawned on her, that day so many years ago--when she was suspended from school. That was the day her mother put an end to any relationship she could have had with her father. She also remembered the outfit she had on that day--how it was the very first of many that she would own over the years in an effort to get the wrong kind of attention from men. Her father would be over in a few minutes, so she hurried upstairs, looking through her closet, trying to find the source of her problems.

Jeff arrived, finding Emma playing with some duplo blocks on the living room carpet, a bright smile and the words 'PopPop' filling the room. He smiled and sat down next to her, hugging her as his daughter quickly bounding down the steps into the living room. She was in some plain pink sweats and tshirt--that had macaroni and cheese stains from Emma's earlier refusal at the high chair. Cynthia hugged Jeff like she never had before--as if she lost him for years and suddenly found him again. 'I must look like a real mess' she said sheepishly as she finally pulled away from their embrace. 

Her father looked at her shirt and smiled, 'It's a badge of motherhood, you look great Cynthia.' She blushed at the compliment, feeling pride and loving her father even more for noticing how, despite all her faults, she strived to be a good mother for Emma. She realized that was the sort of feeling she wanted from a man, and that once again, it was her dad that made her feel it.

They sat on the couch and talked while Emma played, subjects ranged from what she was going to do after the divorce, what pre-school Emma would go to, and so on. By 8pm it was bedtime for Emma so Cynthia took her upstairs, putting her down, and walking into her own room.

Jeff was thumbing through some of Emma's children's book, completely not understanding some of the themes or lessons inherent. He chalked it up to getting older, but as he heard Cynthia coming down the stairs he commented 'What ever happened to Dr. Seuss? It was silly and full of imagination but grounded in life lessons. I used to love reading those to you when you were youn.....' His comment trailing off as he turned his head over the couch to look at his daughter approaching. She was in the same outfit she was from high school--the tight little purple top with the wide open neckline falling over her shoulder, the little jean skirt barely covering her legs with a white gstring poking out the top. He noted that is was the EXACT outfit from her high school suspension, because at 25, she was no longer an 18 year old girl. The plunging neckline of the top, drapped over her right shoulder exposed her breast just a little too much--her pink areolas just barely visible--and her 34Ds were obviously not contained by a bra. The jean skirt was also looking very short on her long, nicely tanned thighs, and he would never have the heart to say it was a bit tight around the waist--Cynthia looked amazing at 25 and after one kid. No one could pull off an outfit like this from their high school days. Jeff felt that same twinge in his cock--from the night just a few days ago, but it was also the same one he had when she was 18. He looked up at her, unable to speak, completely debilitated by her sweet and innocent face and the addition of pigtails in her long hair--loosely bundled but falling down either side of her head on her shoulders. 

Cynthia, registering the concern she saw on her father's face quickly chimed in, 'Daddy don't be upset. I know how you feel about--what happened last week. I just--well you remember this outfit? From when I was suspended in highschool?' She saw just a nod from him, no words. 'Well, I kind of realized as we talked that this was the day when we started to grow apart, when mom went completely berserk and I never--well I never really learned my lesson and it just sort of went downhill from there. You were never there to help me.' 

'Babygirl I'm so sorry' he said forgetting for a moment that he was talking to his 25 year old daughter and not his 18 year old. The pigtails were making it increasingly difficult for him as more blood slipped from his brain into his growing cock.

'Daddy it's okay' she said cutting him off. 'It was really mom overreacting and not letting you do your job. And she made you feel ashamed for--well looking a bit too long at me in my outfit' she said blushing a bit. 'I knew that she was using guilt to keep you from being my dad, and you said it yourself the other night--there is no shame in admitting the simple fact that I'm an attractive woman.'

'That's true,' Jeff reluctantly said, adjusting in his seat to ease the comfort of his 8.5 inches bulging in his pants, 'I guess I'm letting go of that guilt, but that still doesn't change the fact that what happened after that was wrong.' He added forcefully. 

Cynthia didn't agree, but continued 'I know you feel that way, and I don't want to do anything where I might lose you again--I just want to start over where we left off daddy.' She said with pleading in her voice. 'You were never really around for me until last week--when you finally stepped in to be my dad again.'




A Cure for her 'Daddy Issues'



Tears welled up in both their eyes, Jeff completely disarmed and releasing that he hadn't done anything or said anything to correct the path Cynthia was on before last week. 'I promise that I will always be there for you Cynthia.' He finally said, watching his daughter smile back at him. Cynthia, in turn was completely relieved at the thought she would never loose him again--not like she did in highschool, and not like she did after last week. 

She finally broke the emotional moment by throwing her hands up in the air and doing a little turn, exclaiming 'So! Daddy, what do you think of my outfit? I think they went a bit overboard in suspending me, don't you?'

He laughed deeply, 'Babygirl I don't even know how they let you IN wearing an outfit like that. You are the picture of disruption--how is any 18 year old boy going to learn anything when you're in class dressed like that?' He loved how her nickname came back so easily for him, how it rolled off his lips with love.

She rolled her eyes, 'Daddy 18 year old boys get horny if they look at a table or chalkboard for too long. I hardly think that should be the measure of suspension.'

They both laughed, the years of separation seeming to wash away from their minds. He wasn't even feeling guilty about how hard he was in his jeans, something Cynthia noticed as well--the bulge in his jeans that he shifted into his right pant leg and was growing by the second, and how jovial he could be. 'But seriously Daddy, you have to tell me what is wrong with the outfit--we're starting from here, remember?' She added.

'Well I suppose I don't have your highschool's policy manual, but your top is a bit too loose, isn't it?'

She scoffed like any 18 year old would, 'That's just the style now, to hang one side off your shoulder like this.'

'So you can broadcast to boys that you're not wearing a bra?' he said doubtfully as he looked up at her. 'Which you're not, correct?'

She smiled at him coyly at him 'I've never needed a bra Daddy, my boobs stand up all on their own.' That fact was not lost on Jeff--he was amazed that, even after having Emma and her growing into a 34D as she breast fed, they were still perky and almost perfectly round.

He spoke a little slower, swallowing the lump in his throat, 'Cynthia it's not a matter of holding them up--I can see your nipple on your right breast--without a bra to cover them up you can see your nipples sweetie.' He explained.

She blushed a bit, looking down and noticing that he must be right. 'I'm sorry Daddy, I've gotten a big 'bigger' over the years, this outfit really doesn't fit me anymore. Maybe this was a bad idea.'

'No, not at all--you still look beautiful Cynthia, any woman would kill to be able to squeeze back into their high school clothes' He quickly chimed in, a bit more than eager on his part. Cynthia felt her pussy start to get wet at the compliment from her father--the man noticed everything about her that she loved. She tried to tell herself that this was just lust, but it was as if at every turn her dad knew what to say to make her feel good. Wasn't that love? Before she put more thought into it, she heard him comment 'And the skirt is much too short Babygirl. It's about 6 inches ABOVE the knee.' He added for emphasis. 

She playfully measured out about 3 inches between her fingers and proceeded to bend down and count up from her knee--'1, 2, 3. It is almost exactly THREE inches above the knee Daddy!' 

He rolled his eyes, telling her to come over to where he was on the couch. She dutifully stood in front of him as his fingers lightly touched her leg, measuring up her thigh gently, as he counted off 5 and a half inches. Cynthia loved the feel of even his fingertips on her legs, her pussy completely flooded from the touch--she new the front of her gstring would be completely soaked in a matter of minutes. 

'See, it was not a full 6 inches Daddy, it's fine.' She said playfully.

'Let's see the back Babygirl.' Again she dutifully turned around, her cute little bubble butt poking out from underneath the skirt. 'Good god you bottom looks amazing in this Babygirl' he had blurted out. The 25 year old Cynthia absorbed the compliment, loving how she kept herself in shape and despite how tight it was around her waist, she loved that he noticed. 

She had to remind herself to respond back in her best 18 year old voice 'Thanks Daddy!' and giggled a bit. 

'But it's much too short for school. Can't you FEEL how short it is Cynthia?' he asked, puckering his lips and lightly blowing on the back of her thighs, the bottom of her ass cheeks that were poking out from underneath the jean skirt. Cynthia felt the cool air on her nearly bare bottom--only the tiny gstring running between her ass cheeks. She lied, 'No Daddy, not at all.' Jeff fingertips lightly grazed the back of her thighs, right beneath her bottom, then tugged at the jean skirt from the hem, like a concerned father trying to lengthen a skirt. His fingertips brushed against her bare ass cheeks as he claimed the skirt was much too short. Cynthia had to bite her lower lip to stop a moan from escaping her mouth. 

Jeff was loosing a battle in his mind, the battle for what was 'right' and what 'wrong.' He was lost in how beautiful she was, how her body responded to his touch. And how wet he was making her. He inhaled her scent, knowing what this was doing to her. He knew he was crossing the Rubicon when he asked, his fingers still lightly brushing against her bare bottom, feigning like he was tugging at her skirt 'Babygirl you don't have on any panties, do you?'

Her breathing heavy as she stood facing away from her father, his fingertips pressing against her bottom from underneath her skirt, she collected herself before responding 'I do Daddy I promise I remembered panties--just not the bra.' 

He quickly retorted, 'But your bottom is bare princess. What kind of panties don't cover your bottom, especially when you're wearing a skirt like this'

'It's just a different kind of panty Daddy, don't be so stuffy.' she said, smiling and turning around, trying to regain her composure. Remembering that they were there to talk about her outfit. She unclasped the button on her waist, then let her jean skirt fall past her knees, down around her ankles. She stood in front of her father in just a little white gstring and her top--completely forgetting how wet she was. The thin patch of material in front cover her pussy was soaked and completely see through at this point. Jeff stared at his little girls pussy, noting every detail he could through her semi-transparent gstring. She was completely bald, his mind drifting to thoughts of her at 18, if that day she had also shaved her pussy. God he loved the thought of that. He finally stammered, 'You're soooo wet aren't you Babygirl?'

'Yesss Daddy' she purred. He patted the couch seat next to him and she dutifully sat down next to him. He wanted to say something, anything, but instead placed his lips on his daughters and kissed her passionately--while slowly lowering her head down onto the couch. He smiled up at her, but her eyes were closed, already lost in the pleasure as his lips softly kissed her thighs, his hands tugging at her gstring. Without a word, she lifted her bottom off the sofa and he slid them off, her bald, wet pussy aching to be touched. He kissed it softly, sliding just one finger inside of her as he let his tongue circle overtop her clit. 'Uhhhhhh Daddy yes' was all that he heard as he continued to eat his little girl's pussy. 

Cynthia sat up, peeling off her top and smiling down at Jeff. 'You love my titties, don't you daddy?' She playfully asked as she cupped them, squeezing them together while he licked her pussy. 

He kept his finger inside her, slowly sliding in and out while lifting his mouth from her clit, his chin drenched in her own juices. 'Yessss, they're so beautiful Babygirl.' 

He pressed his tongue against her slit, slowly dragging it from the very bottom all the way to the top, slowly circling it overtop her clit. 'Uhhhhhh Daddy, yes... And they are so much bigger than mommy's aren't they?' she asked, breathing heavier. He nodded, his mouth never leaving her pussy, his eyes looking up into hers as she played with her massive tits, kneading them, tugging gently at her nipples. 'Is this what you wanted that day? Your mouth on your little girl's pussy?' Cynthia knew she was going to cum soon and had to slow daddy down. 

Jeff moved his mouth off her clit, 'Yessss, I know it's wrong but I just don't care. I've always wanted you Babygirl.'

'I want you too Daddy. But the first time you make me cum, I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me Daddy.'

Jeff stood up, taking off his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them off his waist and slid them off. His cock was already bulging in his boxers, straining against the material. Cynthia looked up at him in complete adoration, 'That's it Daddy, pull them down, I want to see it.' His thumbs hooked into the elastic of his boxers, he slid them down, his 8.5 inch cock springing out as Cynthia's eyes grew wide. 'You have the most beautiful cock I've ever seen, you know. I loved sucking you off the other day. I've masturbated every day since thinking about your cock being inside me Daddy.' 

He smiled down at her, grasping the base of his shaft, 'It's all yours Babygirl, it's all just for you now.' She cooed as he let the tip of his penis slide up and down over her hot, wet slit. There was no turning back now, he knew he had to have her. And without much more thought, he slowly parted her pussy with the tip of his cock, and inch by inch, buried his shaft inside his daughter. 

'Ohhh my god Daddy!' she moaned as she felt his shaft slide inside her, he was so long, but also so wide. She had never been with a man that filled her little pussy like this. She trembled in pleasure as he brought it almost all the way out, before plunging it back in again. 'God you're so hard Daddy,' she remarked as she felt one of his bulging veins rub past her clit as he slid his cock in and out of her. 

'Uhhhh its all because of you Babygirl, you make me so hard.' He looked down at his beautiful daughter as he continued to slide his cock in and out of her, she was alternating between looking up into his eyes, and then back down at his cock, covered in her wetness before plunging back inside her again. 

Cynthia knew she was close to cumming, and said 'Daddy slow down.' Jeff's pace decreased, he was about to ask why when she added, 'I'm..... I'm soo close right now. And... Uhhhhh... I want you to cum at the same time. I want you to cum inside me Daddy.'  

'Uhhh god sweetie I can't cum inside you. It's just.. I can't, that would be so wrong.' He said looking down at her.

Her legs wrapped around his torso while his cock was still inside her. 'Daddy, I love you. I loved having your cum in my mouth, all over my face, my titties. And I want you to cum inside my little pussy. Please Daddy?' she added for effect.

He had already given in before she added the 'please' and quickened his pace, fucking his daughter's pussy with reckless abandoned. She cooed with pleasure--partially from him giving in, but mostly from his hard cock sliding so quickly and easily into her hot wet pussy. She felt the orgasm slowly building inside her, her right hand stopped playing with her tits and slowly moved down to her clit, rubbing furiously overtop of it as her daddy fucked her. 'Oh my god yes, I'm going to cum Daddy. Make me cum on your cock, fuck your little girl.' 

Jeff felt her pussy contracting around his cock which only made him fuck her faster, in and out of her hot wet slit, he knew he wouldn't last more than a few seconds like this. 

And neither would Cynthia. 'Daddy yesss! yes! yes!' she cried out as the orgasm came over her like a wave. She felt her pussy tighten around her father's cock, looking up into his eyes, she begged him to cum inside her. 'Cum inside me Daddy, fill me up, make me your little girl again. Please, please, please.'

Jeff couldn't hold it in any longer, he groaned, bit his lower lip, and he buried his cock deep inside her. White hot ropes of cum erupted from the tip of his dick, filling up his daughter's pussy. 'Uhhhh god Babygirl, I'm cumming. Daddy is cumming inside you.'

She smiled in satisfaction as her father collapsed on top of her and they kissed passionately. Her life was finally on the right track--she had a man that loved her and a cure for all her daddy issues. It turned out all she needed was daddy's cum inside her pussy.



A Cure for His Monday Blues



"Damn," John thought, "Why do Mondays have to be so horrible?" John had never gotten used to getting up early on Monday morning and following someone else's routine after a whole weekend of doing only what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. He was preparing to go in to work and not looking forward to it. But at least if he was at work that meant he was out of the house and lately that had been a good thing. Since his divorce he didn't want to spend too much time at home alone thinking about his ex-wife. As John climbed out of the shower he looked at himself in the mirror, glad that he had kept in shape over the years--he still had a decent body for a man in his 40's.

The limp 9" penis hanging between his legs caught John's eye. "We're going to have to get you some action soon" he muttered, thinking about his ex-wife "It's a good thing the bitch couldn't take YOU with her or she would have!" Through their 10 years of marriage Evelyn had went from a virgin to an insatiable tigress in bed. Unfortunately it was outside of the bedroom where they had all their trouble and couldn't agree on anything. That fact had led to a nasty divorce in which she had taken everything he owned other than the house he was still living in. She didn't need it, her divorce lawyer/boyfriend had a bigger and better one. "Well, he can have her" John thought, "I'm tired of arguing with her over every little matter, I just miss the sex-she could suck the rust off a bumper."

Since the divorce John hadn't dated that much, not that he wasn't interested, but because he didn't have the time. If he wasn't in the office he was working around the house and building a garage. He had already remodeled several of the rooms, turning one into a home gym complete with a beverage bar and stereo system that shook the foundation when turned on full blast. When he had some free time John liked to work out and he was now in better shape than when he was younger, with a six-pack and toned abdomen, strong legs and muscular arms.

John's social life existed almost solely online and he had made several friends through different websites. It was easier to talk freely to people whom he hadn't met face to face rather than go stalking the bars. He had been exchanging emails at least once daily with a woman named Dawn who lived about an hour from him. Lately the emails had been turning into erotica and hinting that she wanted to get together with John for some mutually satisfying sex. "Just what I need--a nice, warm, willing woman" John thought, "I'll see if she wants to meet this weekend and have some fun." They both worked as programmers, though for different companies, and he knew that she was intelligent as well as insatiable. The drive to work went quickly and soon he was nearing his desk, exchanging pleasantries along the way with his co-workers.

Dawn had waited under John's desk at work for almost 30 minutes before she first heard John's voice approaching his desk. Her heart started beating faster with anticipation and she could feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach.

It had been so long since she had felt a connection with a man, even online. Since she had broken up with her last boyfriend over 3 months ago she had not allowed herself to consider dating, thinking that it was impossible to find a good man anymore. Dawn didn't like the bar scene very much, therefor most of the men she met were at work; but mixing business and pleasure rarely works out; she had seen it happen to some of her friends over the years. However, she was so horny that it was hard to sleep at night. It occurred to her that she should try an online chat site geared toward the people in her state and that was where she met John. He wasn't perfect, but he respected her intelligence and Dawn was beyond caring about anything else--she was just too horny.

She played with her long red hair absently while hearing John greet his co-workers, feeling her nipples start to harden from the anticipation. Yesterday after work Dawn had went out and bought a new dress which did little to hide her delicious figure--it was black and barely covered her DD breasts, which threatened to escape the tight confines of the top with each breath. She fiddled with the hemline which came to just below her delectable ass, smoothing it out and grazing her new garter belt in the process. "I really shouldn't have spent so much money shopping yesterday but these stockings just make the dress." Dawn mused, "Not bad looking for a 33 year old woman." The half-cup bra and matching thong underneath made her feel sexier as soon as she put it on, as did the new black 3" high heels on her small feet. Smiling she remembered the urge to play with her nipples that were hidden just inside the rim of the bra when looking in the mirror this morning. Absently she tweaked one nipple and it instantly hardened under her fingers. Dawn felt a warmth in her lower body and knew that the thong was getting wet from her juices, which just excited her more.

Thinking of the picture that John had sent, and then their webcam conversation Dawn knew that John was nice looking with salt & pepper hair cut to just above his shoulders, sparkling grey eyes and a wonderful smile. Just remembering what he looked like sent her temperature soaring and more moisture coated her thong. 

Suddenly the chair in front of her face moved back and John sat down in it almost touching her body under the desk with his knees. Dawn's heart thudded with anticipation, fear of rejection, excitement and the possibility of public humiliation. "I'd better start before losing my nerve" Dawn thought to herself and slowly reached out a hand to touch John's ankle.

John was sitting at his desk waiting on the computer to warm up when he felt something brush against his ankle. Startled he leaned his chair back and looked below his desk to find a woman sitting there looking ravishing in a short black dress. It took a moment for him to recognize her from the photos they'd exchanged online and their webcam chats. He'd thought Dawn was pretty from the photo's she'd sent--long red hair, hazel eyes, luscious full lips, DD breasts that didn't seem to need a bra, a tapered waist and slim yet muscular legs, but the picture she now presented was one that took his breath away. Because Dawn was sitting Indian style on the thin carpet in between John's ankles with her hands grazing his legs her already short dress had pulled up and John could see that she was wearing a black thong. His dick realized this fact as well and started coming to life at the sight. Looking around furtively to make sure no one was near them he said to Dawn "What are you doing under my desk and how did you get in here?" She smiled at him and her face was transformed from very pretty to beautiful by the light of her smile. "I'm giving you a cure for those Monday blues that you've been complaining of," she said, "Now push your chair back up to the desk and do your work, I've got work to do down here!" "Yes, ma'am" John whispered and pulled his chair back up to meet the desk, hoping against hope that no one would page or need him for the next little while. He had the feeling that his Monday blues were about to become a thing of the past!

Although usually quite withdrawn, Dawn was so horny and thirsty for human contact that her shyness disappeared at once. Dawn continued lightly running her hands up and down John's shins and calves. She could feel the muscles in them as she rubbed and that excited her. "Nice strong legs to grip me with," Dawn thought, feeling as another gush of liquid exited her hot pussy and drenched the thong. She eased her hands slowly up John's legs until she was caressing his thighs. She could feel his muscles tense and release as her hands teased him mercilessly and she laughed softly at the spasms. When she looked straight ahead she could see the bulge forming in John's pants, her mouth beginning to water at the sight, knowing what was underneath the material.  

Dawn continued rubbing and squeezing John's legs from the ankles all the way up to his hips while avoiding the one area both of them wanted her fingers to touch the most. John could not concentrate on his work; all he could think about was the amazing and beautiful woman sitting between his legs. In all his life John had never had a woman surprise him. Until now, that is. John's dick literally ached from both the feeling of her hands on his legs and from being so tightly confined in his pants. "At least I didn't wear underwear today, that would have meant even more constriction for the poor fellow," John thought to himself.

He could feel her warm hands running up and down his legs, the nails tracing patterns through the material of his pants, teasing him by edging closer and closer to his hard cock but not touching it. Biting his lip John barely managed to stifle a groan of frustration at her refusal to alleviate the constriction his penis was under. Dawn's nipples were harder than they had ever been before, as she was teasing John and getting his blood flowing she was feeling the same need for release that he was. She reached into her purse sitting in the floor and withdrew her favorite companion, a 8" dark purple vibrator which she had earlier this morning loaded with fresh batteries. While stroking one of John's thighs she used the other hand to move aside her thong and insert her friend into her hot, wet pussy. She turned it on glad that she had paid extra for the silent model. The feeling of being filled was a relief in itself, but it wasn't enough--she needed the kind of pleasure that comes from being with and touching another human being. The vibrator was good, but there's no feeling quite as good as having a man's hard cock in your hands, mouth or pussy to make a woman feel like a woman. Knowing that she is bringing John pleasure increases Dawn's pleasure ten-fold and since she was conveniently sitting right in front of a hard cock the answer was obvious.

John breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Dawn's hands pulling down the zipper of his pants and freeing his engorged cock from its confines. "Finally," John thought, "the torture is over!" Dawn began rubbing her fingers lightly over the beautiful cock, relishing the sight and feel of a man's source of pleasure. She stroked him up on the top and down the bottom with one hand while the other hand reached into his pants and pulled his heavy balls into the open. Continuing stroking his shaft with one hand Dawn lightly pulled, squeezed and fondled his balls in the other. "This man is definitely well-endowed," was the thought running through her head. She was doubtful whether she could fit the entire cock into her mouth, but being the woman she was, Dawn was more than willing to try! A drop of pre-cum appeared at the tip so she rubbed it onto one finger then inserted that finger into her mouth. "Delicious," Dawn whispered so that John could hear her, smiling when she heard his muffled groan.

John felt her warm breath as she blew on his cock and it caused him to flinch with pleasure, biting on his tongue to not groan. Dawn's hair was tickling his balls while his dick was being subjected to the torture of knowing her mouth was so close yet so far away. He tried to subtly move his hips so that her mouth would capture his dick but every time he tried Dawn would back away. Frustrated John slipped one hand under the desk and tried to force her mouth closer to his aching cock but Dawn whispered, "Not yet,"and slapping his hand away from her head backed away. Her dominant nature was coming to the forefront as she wanted to make sure that John had as good a time as possible. She would put his cock in her mouth after she was sure that he could take no more teasing and not a moment before. John gave up and brought his hand back above the desk. To fool his coworkers into thinking he was working he had opened a file on the computer and was trying to act like he was editing the document. But if anyone looked closer they would see that his eyes could not focus on the words filling the screen, as his whole body was being consumed by the lust raging through his system caused by the feeling of Dawn's talented hands.

After a few more minutes of stroking his raging hard-on with her hands Dawn decided to quit teasing his cock so much and squirted some strawberry-flavored oil into her hands. Taking his massive cock in one hand she gripped it tightly and started jerking up and down the entire length of him while still massaging his balls in the other hand. Whenever she felt he was too close to the edge by the throbbing in his cock she would encircle his cock at the base and prevent him from cumming by squeezing tightly, cutting off the flow of his sperm. Once Dawn felt the urge had passed her hand would go back to jerking him off. She did this for several long minutes, bringing John to the edge and then denying him any release, knowing that by doing so his release when it came would be all the more mind-shattering. As her fingers yet again cut off his orgasm Dawn knew that the time had come--would she be able to fit the monster in her mouth?

After the immediate sensation of needing to cum had passed yet again John felt a new and even better sensation: a warm mouth was covering his cock, tongue flicking all around the massive tool. If he had been any closer to orgasm it would have been over in seconds of her mouth wrapping those delightful lips around his hardness. When her lips touched the head of his cock John was sure that he would burst from the intense pleasure. But since Dawn had brought John to the edge so many times without letting him find release he was able to maintain and not blast his seed into her mouth at the first feeling of her lips and tongue. Suddenly all the teasing that she had put him through was worth it and John didn't know how he was going to keep from screaming when she finally let him orgasm. "Evelyn had nothing on this woman!" John thought, "Dawn could suck the rust off a bumper from 10 miles away!" It was hard to believe the sensations flowing throughout his body just from feeling her lips on his cock; nothing had ever felt so good before in his life. It was like Dawn had went to a special school and been taught how to please a man with only her mouth and hands, John couldn't believe the incredible warmth of her mouth and the way she used her tongue was amazing.

Dawn could feel her own orgasm approaching as her friend worked its magic on her cunt, making her spasm with little mini-orgasms and she knew that when she finally allowed herself to cum it would be mind blowing. Dawn had prevented herself from cumming yet by concentrating on bringing John to ever greater heights of sexual pleasure, but her own wave of pleasure was about to crest and carry her away. Her nipples were already hard enough to poke holes in the new dress and from the way she was feeling they would get harder still. She brought a hand down to her breasts and began twisting and pulling on first one nipple then the other, feeling delightful sensations of pleasure like miniature bolts of lightening go down into her belly and pussy, stoking the fire already building. Slowly, teasingly her hand began snaking its way down her body to find her clit swollen and pulsing with the need to be stroked. Dawn obliged the feeling and began fingering her clit, stimulating the swollen bud to even greater size through the material of her thong.

Dawn began sucking even harder on John's cock, wanting them to experience the ultimate pleasure at the same time. John, feeling the difference in her sucking, snuck a hand under the desk again to hold the back of her head. He grabbed a handful of red hair twisting it in his fingers as he pulled her mouth farther down on his swollen cock, refusing to let her go, afraid she might tease him again. As his cock hit the back of her throat Dawn's muscles relaxed letting the intruder slide down her throat gracefully. While the head of his cock was in her throat Dawn moaned and the vibrations traveled up the length of John's cock and through-out his body causing him to moan softly in return. John was wondrous at how Dawn could use only her hands and mouth to bring him to such heights of pleasure. He could feel every heartbeat pulsing in his cock and traveling outward until his fingers and toes were clenched with tension.

Feeling her entire mouth, tongue and throat massaging and working his rod made it impossible for John to hold out any longer. With all of his muscles tensed he blasted stream after stream of his salty cum down her throat, groaning under his breath the whole time. When Dawn felt John stiffen she knew that the moment had come and let her own orgasm wash over her, feeling the intense pleasure go through her body until her toes curled, wave after wave roaming through her body. Her moaning was muted by John's twitching cock in her mouth and she swallowed load after load of his tasty cum down her throat without losing any of it.

After John had blasted his loads into her willing mouth Dawn kept sucking his dick until it was totally clean and there was not a trace of semen left on it. She felt his hand unwrap itself from her hair and his whole body went limp. It was a good thing that Dawn was sitting on the floor since there was no way that her legs would let herm stand right now. Still twitching in aftershocks of her orgasm Dawn removed her friend from her sopping pussy, feeling her cum travel down the lips and be absorbed by the soaked thong. She tucked John's dick back into his pants and pulled the zipper up.

As John leaned back from the desk, still reeling from his best cum in far too long he looked down at Dawn sitting between his legs with a smile on her face. After the office workers had cleared out for lunch Dawn slipped out from under John's desk, gave him a quick kiss and whispered in his ear, "Thanks for the protein." She then gave him a "cat-that-ate-the-canary" grin and walked out the door swaying her delicious ass at him in a manner that would have put the most experienced street-walker to shame.



A Cure for Insomnia



"You awake?" read the text message on my cell phone. I was up, being a slight insomniac, I was awake, and bored out of my mind in front of my computer, surfing the web. Usually the mindless surfing through web sites put me to sleep, but not so tonight.

"Yep, what's up? You're up late." I texted back and hit the send button. It was late for him, he was usually in bed by 10PM, and here it was, almost 2 AM, and he was texting me. 

"Can't sleep. Got a hard on that won't go down. Wanna help?" I had to chuckle at that. He was always raging horny, but it never seemed to keep him from sleeping. Still, though, sex may help me sleep as well.

"Where do you want me? LOL." I sent back to him, thinking he'd never ask me to come to his place, his girlfriend being home. I even chuckled a bit as I sent the message. He was known for his text-sex conversations as well as his in-person fucks. Nine inches of cock went a long way.

"Come over." Read the answer. I was a bit surprised by the boldness of him wanting pussy in the same house with his girlfriend, but the idea turned me on, and I logged off the site I was on, and headed downstairs to get my shoes and keys.

"On my way." I sent as I sat down into the car and the Mustang's engine roared to life. The drive was going to take about 25 minutes, so I had plenty of time to think about what was waiting for me when I got there. We'd been hooking up randomly for a few months, whenever we could steal a little time to fuck, we did. 

Our last encounter was running through my mind as I hit the highway, spurring the Mustang to 70mph. He'd shown up outside my office building, and I'd gone out to his truck, using the excuse that I needed something out of my car to leave the office. I was gone a total of 7 minutes according to one co-worker. In that time he'd bent me over the front seat of his truck, yanked my scrub pants down, and fucked my pussy till we both came hard. It was exhilarating. I loved how spontaneous he was.

Remembering his cock stretching my pussy in his truck was making me wet as I drove towards the town he lived in. He was pierced with a Prince Albert piercing, and I loved the way it rubbed my pussy with every stroke. I was getting wetter, and my nipples were starting to tingle in anticipation of being played with. 

"I'm in town, where do you want me to meet you?" I texted him. I slipped a finger up my pajama shorts, and into my slick pussy, eager to feel a cock in place of my finger, as I waited for his response.

"My place is fine." was the answer. The thought of fucking him with his girlfriend in the bedroom was getting me wetter. I texted that to him, knowing he'd like the idea, and headed in the direction of his apartment.

I pulled into the parking lot and slid the Mustang into the space at his door. I could see him, silhouetted at the window, naked, cock half hard, waiting for me. I groaned at the sight. He had an awesome body, and was an incredibly good fuck. I couldn't wait to get in the door.

I got out of the car, and headed for the door. It opened a bit, and as I opened to screen door, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me in the door. He had a finger to his lips, warning me to be quiet. The door closed quietly behind me, and we went into the living room. 

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him, kissing me deep. His tongue was sliding down my neck, making me shiver. I tongued his ear, and nipped at his ear lobe, making him gasp. He lifted one of my legs around his waist, and ground his hard cock into my crotch. I started panting, eager for him to fuck me.

He yanked my shirt over my head, and I hit my knees, taking his cock into my mouth. Swirling my tongue around the tip, I teased the piercing with the tip of my tongue. His hands dug into my hair, and he started thrusting into my mouth. "I want that pussy," a ragged whisper said.

Pushing me down onto the floor on my back, he had my pajama shorts off fast and spread my legs. He loved eating my pussy, I knew that. He started licking the outer lips of my pussy, making my hips raise towards his mouth for more. His tongue began thrusting into my already soaking pussy, making me gasp. I loved the way he ate me. He clamped down on my clit, and started sucking it, his tongue going like waves over my clit. It was the part I loved the most about him eating me. No one sucked my clit like that, and I wanted more and more.

One of my hands went to the back of his head, not wanting him to randomly stop what he was doing. He had a grip on my other wrist, trying to keep me from moving away from him. He dropped his shoulders down onto my hips, pinning me down so he could keep eating me. He had me gasping for breath, unable to utter anything vocal. 

I felt my pussy getting wetter, knowing that I was going to cum soon. I ground my hips into his face, as much as I could with him holding me down. He hooked an arm under my right hip, keeping my pussy anchored to his mouth while he ate me. My legs started to twitch as his mouth brought me to orgasm. The room swirled around me, and I was sure I was about to faint. 

Suddenly he flipped me over onto my stomach, and pulled my hips up til I was on my knees. I felt his piercing rubbing against my swollen clit, sending zaps of pleasure thorough my pussy. I was still coming down from him eating me, when his cock entered my pussy.

He was big around, and always stretched my pussy when he fucked me. I loved the feeling, it was mainly why I kept fucking him time after time. I braced my arms on the couch, pussy ready to be pounded, and pushed my hips back towards him, opening me up more for him.

He started pounding my pussy, balls slapping against my clit. Despite the previous orgasm, I could feel another one building. He could feel me getting wetter, I was sure, and put one of his fingers in my mouth so I wouldn't scream. I sucked it like I would have sucked his cock. I came hard, and I could feel my juices on his balls as he pounded me through the orgasm. It was all I could do not to scream and wake up the neighborhood. I felt him pull out of my pussy, still rock hard, and knew that he hadn't cum yet.

He grabbed my wrists, and held me still on my knees on the couch. His cock pushed against my ass hole, and pushed the tip inside. He was huge, and stretched my ass even more than my pussy. I could fell the slick juices of my orgasm on his cock, turning me on. "I'm gonna fill your ass" he whispered. I just gasped in response.

His cock in my ass felt so intense, every time we did anal. He could make me cum like that faster than any other way he'd fucked me, and he knew it. I could feel him stroking in and out of my ass, long hard strokes. He pumped faster into my ass, and I could feel his cock get harder with every stroke. It wasn't long before he was pounding me with abandon. 

I felt his cum fill my ass as his breathing went faster and faster. Neither one of us screamed, which surprised me. He kept thrusting in me as his cock softened, both of us breathing hard, trying to calm down. I grabbed my shirt and pajama shorts as I got to my feet. My knees felt like jelly.

I saw him yawn, then he kissed me deep again as I headed out the door. On the drive back to my place, I could hardly keep my eyes open. My cell phone lit up with a message as I parked the Mustang. "Thanks, now I can sleep," it read. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. 



A Cure for Loneliness



Amy had not been in college long, but was often unhappy. She was doing fine with her studies, but less than pleased with her social life. She had left a boring small town full of young guys that didn't care anything about treating a woman right. After some very disappointing attempts at relationships, she had looked forward to college as a means of meeting new (and hopefully better) people. 

Yet somehow, the time she'd spent at school still wasn't living up to her expectations. Despite her attractive body and charming smile, she still couldn't seem to find the right kind of guy. Still lonely, and still hurting from previous guys cheating on her, lying to her, etc., she felt like something meaningful would never happen. 

Her older friend, Marie, was no stranger to the frustrations Amy was going through, and felt for her friend. A great deal of their conversations consisted of Amy getting advice from her wiser friend. 

"Am I being too picky?", Amy would often ask. "Maybe I should just give up and settle for the next guy who shows an interest." 

"Nonsense. You just need to be a little more patient. You've got a lot to offer-- you'll find your nice guy yet." 

"That's easy for your to say", complained Amy. "You've got Mike in your life. Sometimes I think you found the last good guy around." 

"Tell you what", Marie encouraged one evening on the phone, "Next Friday, why don't we go out for a night on the town. Mike has to work late that night, so you and I can go hang out at Lou's club for a while, and he can join us there later. We'll have some fun and maybe get you to meet some good guys." 

"Alright, Marie, I won't give up just yet. But I'm going to rely on your guidance this time. Don't let me make my usual mistakes and wind up with the wrong guy again." 

**************************

As she promised, Marie picked up Amy on Friday. Lou's was a low-key restaurant/club/bar owned and run by an old friend of Marie's. The music tended to be a little quieter than many typical clubs, so it was a more suitable place for conversation and getting to know new people. There was often a regular crowd, so the place was busy, but not overly full. 

Marie and Amy ordered some food and relaxed for a while. They traded some funny stories from recent events in their lives and just enjoyed catching up as friends do. 

After a bit, Marie asked, "So what do you think, Amy? Any guys here catch your interest?" 

"Gee, I'm not sure. I don't really see a lot of unattached guys in here tonight. Most of the good looking ones seem to be here with someone." 

"What about that quiet guy sitting by himself in that booth near the back?" Marie indicated a dark haired guy quietly hanging out alone. He had a good sized build, was a little on the rounder side, and appeared to be a few years older than Marie. 

"Hmmm... to be honest, I didn't even notice him until you said something. He looks shy. Either that or he's antisocial." Amy giggled. "What makes you think I should talk to him?" 

"Well for one, the quiet shy guys will often surprise you, Amy. But the real reason I pointed him out is he's been checking you out." 

"Get out! You are making that up!" 

"No, I'm serious. He's been doing a good job of only looking your way when you can't see. But he obviously didn't count on me keeping an eye on him." Marie smiled. 

"Well he is kinda cute. I guess it wouldn't hurt to go talk with him a little. What about you? I don't want to abandon you here." 

"Oh don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Plus Mike should be showing up before much longer anyway. You go have fun, girl." 

Amy screwed up her courage, took a deep breath, and slowly walked over to the booth with the dark haired guy. He was reading a newspaper and didn't notice Amy until she spoke. "I was wondering if you'd like a little company?" 

Looking up with a slightly startled expression, he recovered his wits enough to reply, "Oh sure! That would be nice." Then he broke into a somewhat silly grin. 

Amy slid into the seat opposite him. "What's so funny?" 

"Oh, sorry." He blushed a little. "It's rather unusual for a pretty woman to offer to sit with me, is all. But I'm very glad you did. I'm Doug. Can I get you a drink or something?" 

"Nice to meet you, Doug. I'm Amy. And you really don't need to get me anything." 

"Are you sure? I think it's the least I can do if you are going to keep me company. Not even one drink?" 

Amy hesitated for a second, then figured she'd level with him. "Well, to be honest with you Doug, I'm too young to be drinking in here. Lou, the owner, let's my friend Marie bring me here to hang out on the condition that I don't drink and get him in any trouble. So I appreciate your offer, but you see why I can't take you up on it." 

"Oh, that's fine, Amy. I certainly wouldn't want to cause any troubles. Thanks for being honest with me. How about a soft drink?" 

"Okay, an iced tea sounds good." 

Doug asked a passing waitress for a iced tea, then got a contemplative look on his face. 

"Everything okay?", inquired Amy. "You look like something is wrong." 

"Oh, sorry. I just realized if you aren't old enough to drink, you must be a lot younger than I thought." 

"I'm 19. Is that a problem?" 

"No, no... I just.. well, I guess I feel like kinda a silly old fool here talking to someone your age." 

"What do you mean? I don't care that you are a couple years older than me." 

"Well, it's more than just a couple", Doug said bashfully. "I tend to look younger than I am. Heck, if I shaved off my goatee I'd have a hard time even getting allowed in a place like this." 

"Oh, don't do that-- your beard looks great!" Amy blurted the words before she realized what she was saying, then looked down and blushed severely. 

Doug beamed at the compliment. "Thank you. I guess this age thing really isn't that big a deal when I think about it. At least I'm not quite old enough to have been your father." 

Amy laughed. "It doesn't bother me at all. If other people have a problem with it, to hell with them." Doug grinned at Amy's carefree attitude. 

Doug and Amy made some small talk for a while. The conversation went really well-- they shared interests in music and movies, and before long, Doug found himself opening up to this great woman despite his usual tendency to be shy. 

Amy was enjoying herself as well, and glanced over at Marie. Mike had arrived and the two were talking together and smiling. Amy shot a smile at Marie to let her know things were going well, and Marie grinned back. 

Doug invited Amy to dance, and they joined the other couples out on the dance floor. Amy was really have a fantastic time being close to Doug, and even worked in some teasing bump-and-grind moves to help show her enthusiasm. Doug couldn't believe his luck at this incredible woman giving him so much attention. 

Amy and Doug returned back to their booth after a bit, and Amy made sure to sit on the same side as Doug this time. Doug put his arm around her, and Amy cuddled up, feeling really safe and comfortable. She was in the middle of laughing at a funny story about one of Doug's friends, when Marie walked up. 

"Sorry to interrupt, but Mike just got an important call from work. He needs to bring his company car back, and I'm going to follow him out and give him a ride from there. Unfortunately, I guess that means you'll have to come with us now, Amy." 

Amy's disappointment at cutting the evening short was apparent on her face. Doug offered, "Amy, I understand if you need to go. But if you would like to stay for a while more, I'd be more than happy to offer you a ride home later." 

"Oh I couldn't ask you to do that, Doug." 

"You didn't ask-- I offered. It's really no trouble. Besides, if it means I get so spend longer here with you tonight, how could I not offer?" 

Amy broke out in a big smile. "Ah, thanks Doug. You are sweet. Just let me walk Marie out, and I'll be right back." 

As they walked towards the door, Marie looked at Amy. "You sure about this, hon? I don't like just leaving you here." 

"Marie, it's fine. I can take care of myself. And I really have a good feeling about him. I'll call you when I get home so you know everything is okay, alright?" 

"You better! I don't want to be up all night worrying about you." 

"You just don't want anything distracting you from your evening with Mike", Amy teased. 

"Shut up, you brat!" Marie smiled and gave Amy a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You just don't forget to call." 

**************************

A couple of hours later, after more talking, laughing, and dancing, the crowd in the club started to thin out, and Doug decided they should probably be heading out themselves. 

"Are you ready to depart, m'lady?", he jokingly asked. 

"Only if you escort me out", Amy played along. She hooked her arm through his and they headed out to Doug's car. A snowstorm had rolled in and there was already a couple inches on the ground. 

Doug drove slowly and carefully to Amy's place. By the time they pulled up her driveway, the snow was coming down even harder, and it was pretty late. Amy had to suppress a yawn as she called Marie to let her know she'd gotten home safely. 

"I'm glad to hear from you, Amy. The roads were already getting bad when Mike and I got home, and it's near white-out conditions outside here now. The weather report said the storm is moving in your direction, so you'll be getting the same before you know it." 

"Okay, thanks for letting me know, Marie. You have a great night now. I'll call you tomorrow." Amy turned to Doug. "Marie says even worse weather is heading this way. I dont' want you driving in it, Doug. Why don't you just stay at my place tonight?" 

"Well, I'll admit that might be safest. Thank you for the offer. Are you really sure you want me sleeping here, though? I mean, we did just meet tonight and all. I could always find a motel back in town if the snow gets too bad." 

"Nonsense! I want to know you are safe. I've got plenty of room in my apartment. Let's just get in and out of this snow already." 

Amy led Doug into the townhouse, and they shed their coats. "Can I get you anything, Doug?" 

"Thanks, but I think I'm good. You don't have to play the hostess. I already feel like I'm putting you out staying over here unexpectedly. I know it's pretty late, so I'll get comfy on the couch over there and let you go upstairs." 

"Doug, there's a nice spare room up there. I insist that you use it. It's way more comfortable than that old sofa, and... um... well I'd just prefer you upstairs in case I get scared by the storm." 

Amy showed Doug his guest room, and headed over to her room. "I'll be across the hall if you need anything. Just make yourself at home." 

Doug undressed for bed, deciding he'd just sleep in his t-shirt and boxers. He went to shut his door, and couldn't help noticing Amy's door was open part way. He decided to tiptoe out in the hall for a moment and then make a decision what to do from there. 

Meanwhile, Amy had removed her sweater, unbuttoned her jeans, and was struggling with her zipper. For some reason it was jammed, and she wondered if asking Doug for help would be too weird. "I guess I dont' have much choice" she thought to herself. She opened her door, only to find Doug standing in the hall. 

A little shocked to be caught there by Amy, Doug tripped over his words a little. "Oh, hi.. I was on my way to the bathroom, and you caught me... ha, ha." The fact that Amy was in just a bra distracted him intensely. 

"Doug, this is going to sound so stupid... but my zipper is stuck. Could you give me a hand?" Amy tried furiously not to blush at the embarrassing request. 

Recovering from his embarrassment at being caught in the hall, Doug cracked a smile. "I didn't expect a pretty girl was going to ask me to unzip her jeans tonight." 

"I guess it's your lucky night", Amy joked back. Suddenly remembering she was just in her bra, she felt an even deeper wave of embarrassment. "Oh, crap! I'm sorry-- I should cover up!" 

"Amy, it's cool. Honestly, I'm quite enjoying what I see." 

Amy's face turned even more red. "Can you please just help with this before I die of embarrassment?" 

Doug slowly placed one hand on the waist of Amy's jeans, admiring the smooth skin of her tummy. He placed the other hand on the zipper, a bit hesitantly as he realized where he was touching her. 

Amy thought "I can't belive I asked him to help with a zipper", then shuddered a little as Doug's fingers touched her. 

Doug gave a little tug up, then slowly slid the zipper down. His hands lingered just a second longer than they really should, then he moved them away before becoming too obvious. 

"Thanks" Amy mumbled, too embarrassed to look Doug in the face. 

"My pleasure" grinned Doug. After an uncomfortable moment, Doug turned back towards his room. "I should let you finish undressing in private." 

Amy didn't know what to say, and stood there frozen for a moment watching Doug return to his room. As she turned back to her bedroom, she realized there had appeared to be a bulge in the front of Doug's shorts. She shook her head a little to clear it of the confusion brought on by all the embarrassment, then finished removing her jeans and sat on the edge of her bed. 

Doug quickly returned to his room, figuring he'd only say or do something stupid if he didn't. He closed the door, clicked off the lights, and climbed into bed. He accidentally failed to shut the door tight, and in the dark didn't notice it swing partially open. 

Thinking back to touching Amy's body, Doug's mind raced as he imagined how incredible it would have been to take things further with her. He knew it was too soon to try to make that kind of move. But try as he might, he couldn't get the fantasy out of his mind. Doug decided that if he didn't help his body finish the reactions that were already building, he'd never get to sleep. 

Doug slipped off his clothes, figuring if he was quiet, Amy would never suspect what he was doing. His cock has already started to respond when he touched Amy's jeans, and now it took almost no time to grow to full length. With some slow deliberate strokes, Doug closed his eyes and gave into his desires. 

Meanwhile, Amy had recovered from her racing emotions, and realized that the big t-shirts she liked to sleep in were all still in her spare bedroom where Doug was. "Damn!" she thought. Glancing out her door, the hallway was dark, and she saw Doug's door was open part-way, but the room was dark as well. "Doug, are you awake?" she whispered. When Doug made no response, she figured he must have dozed off already. "Maybe I can get a shirt out his room quietly without waking him up." 

Wearing only her bra and panties, Amy tiptoed into the room, and started to move towards the shelves where she keep her extra folded shirts. The street light out front cast just enough light through the window that she could make out where she was headed. Glancing to the bed she could also see the outline of Doug's body. When the motion of his hand caught her eye, she froze. 

"Oh my gosh!" she screamed to herself in her mind. Amy tried to look away, but she couldn't pull her eyes off Doug's rigid cock, and his hand slowly stroking. She couldn't help thinking how good what he was doing must feel. A tingling sensation coursed through Amy's body and her knees felt weak. 

Amy leaned back on the doorframe for support, but the wood gave a slight creak. Blinded by panic, Amy froze again, unable to move. 

Doug's hand also stopped, and his eyes opened as he instinctively searched for the source of the sound. There stood Amy at the doorway, unmoving, her eyes locked on his hard cock. Doug didn't even dare breathe; he was scared and turned on at the same time. Blinking his eyes to make sure they weren't fooling him, he managed to whisper "Amy?" 

"Um... yes. I'm so sorry. I... I just needed to get a shirt, and I... um.... thought you were asleep." Amy stammered out the words, but couldn't move her eyes from Doug's cock. 

Doug tried to mumble a response, but didn't know what to do or say. He suddenly became aware of how horny he felt with Amy staring at him, and then realized she hadn't run away. Composing himself, he meekly suggested, "You... you can stay if you want."  

Amy felt more tingling as she became incredibly turned on, but couldn't move or answer. Doug began slowly moving his hand again, waiting to see how Amy responded. She gasped a little at his movement, but otherwise remained silent. 

Finally, she moved her gaze to Doug's face, and their eyes locked. Overcoming her shock, Amy began moving to the side of the bed, and Doug slowly sat up. 

Almost trance-like, Amy muttered, "I just came in to get some clothes." Doug sat on the edge of the low bed. Amy's gaze moved back down to his hard cock and then she slowly kneeled, bringing her face almost level with his. Doug placed his hands on her shoulders, and Amy trembled a bit at his touch. Then she tipped her head back to look at his face again, and Doug leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her lips. 

The touch of Doug's lips to hers triggered something within Amy, and she crushed her mouth to his. As Doug's arms wrapped around her back and pulled her close, Amy slid her hands up his thighs, and then gently grasped his cock. Excitement coursed through her body, and Doug moaned slightly at Amy's touch. 

Doug quickly unfastened Amy's bra, and they broke the kiss. Doug began sliding the bra down Amy's arms, then he moved his hands to her exposed perky breasts. Amy gasped at his touch, and began slowly stroking Doug's cock. Doug's fingers gently pinched Amy's nipples, and her body felt as if it was on fire. They kissed again, and this time Doug placed one hand on the back of Amy's head as their tongues intertwined. 

Amy then pulled her face away, flashed a cute smile at Doug, and suddenly bent forward and lapped her tongue at the tip of Doug's cock. She then lowered her head and wrapped her lips around his cock head. Doug groaned at the incredible feeling of her mouth on him. 

Amy lifted her mouth for a moment. "I've wanted to do this all night to you." Resuming her oral attention, Doug moaned at the combination of her touch and the sexiness of what she just revealed. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to return some of those amazing sensations to Amy. 

Gently lifting Amy's shoulders, Doug helped Amy back to her feet. He slowly placed his fingers on the waistband of her panties and began tugging them off. Doug gasped at the sight of Amy's trimmed pussy right at his face level. Just as Amy began to step out of her panties, Doug placed his hands on her ass and pulled her briskly to his face. His tongue snaked between the folds of her pussy lips. The warm wetness of her pussy tasted amazing, and Amy had to place her hand on top of Doug's head to balance herself from the feel of his tongue sliding over her clit. 

Realizing the difficulty of trying to maintain balance in this position, Doug began to lie back on the bed, and Amy quickly climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his face. Her mouth sought out Doug's cock once again as he buried his tongue inside her pussy. The sensations made her feel incredibly wet and naughty. Doug moved his tongue to Amy's clit and began slow deliberate licks of her most sensitive spot. 

As Doug moved his hands onto Amy's firm ass, the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit made her moan in ecstasy. Doug loved the feelings produced on his cock, both from the direct pleasure and the knowledge that he was adding to Amy's excitement. 

They continued to slurp and lick at each other in an ever increasing pace. Doug squeezed Amy's ass as she wrapped a hand around the portion of his shaft not already inside her mouth. The licking, sucking, groans, and moans steadily increased in speed and volume. Amy's body began to tremble as Doug's tongue brought her to the edge of orgasm. Doug could barely prevent bucking his hips at each movement of Amy's mouth. 




A Cure for Loneliness



Almost perfectly together, their orgasms unleashed. Doug began pumping spurt after spurt of cum into Amy's mouth, and she greedily swallowed as much as she could handle. The rest ran down Doug's cock and on to his thighs. At the same moment, a flood of wetness flowed from Amy's pussy, soaking Doug's mouth. Amy involuntarily shoved her hips in the direction of Doug's mouth, and barely contained a scream of pleasure. 

Panting and gasping for breath, each grasped the other's body for support. Amy licked up the cum that coated Doug's cock, and Doug lapped at the juices that covered Amy's pussy. As their passion levels slowly began to fade and their grips on each other relaxed, Amy turned around and crawled into Doug's arms. 

They kissed softly once again, lingering together and enjoying the taste of each other on their lips. Amy snuggled into Doug's shoulder, and he softly kissed her cheek as he held her body close to his. 

As Amy closed her eyes, she heard Doug whisper, "Good night, my sweet darling."



A Cure for Melancholia



A Treatment for Melancholia

Mr. Johnson rocked back and forth with the steady rhythm of the trolley, he sat reading the paper, and doing his best to ignore the people around him. He finished the news and then turned to the back classifieds. He usually didn't read such tripe, cures for baldness etc. but today something caught his eye.

Is your wife not quite the woman you married? Is she depressed? Listless? It could be melancholia. It's a treatable condition. Results guaranteed. Dr. Livingston 809A Main St.

Guaranteed.

That was a word Mr. Johnson liked to see. But he was still cautious. His wife wasn't quite the woman he married, oh she was still pretty with her curly red hair and her tight young body. She was better than a balding, slightly overweight man like him deserved, but he was rich and could afford the finest. And lately...he wasn't quite as sure he had the finest. No, lately the new had worn off. Her eyes didn't fill with gladness whenever he came home at night...more often as not late as usual.

Moreover, she had taken to nagging.

No, not the wife he had married at all.

He inspected the ad again. He had heard stories of some of these treatments already. But this one looked different. Guaranteed. He was temped on that word alone. It would be free if he wasn't satisfied. They didn't think he would hold them to the bargain, but they didn't know the sort of man he was. His mouth took on a sly grin and he looked around. He was on the 600 block of Main Street. 700. He was practically there already.

He pulled the cord for the next stop.

Not much of an office, Mr. Johnson thought as he climbed the narrow creaking steps and entered the cheaply furnished room.

Dr. Livingston could see the look of condescension written in the customer's eyes. But the well dressed man didn't know half of it.

It was a crummy office.

But it was an even crummier home. Yet, that was indeed what it was. There was a small bedroll hidden in the back cabinet, and that was where Dr. Livingston had slept each night for the last 3 weeks. It hadn't always been this way. She'd once been wealthy. Not well to do. But wealthy enough to pursue her passion to become a doctor. They wouldn't teach her in the United States; she'd had to go to France. She'd come back with just enough to start her practice. Yet, everyone so far had turned tale and ran the moment that she said she was a doctor. She'd lost her apartment, and much more and she'd soon be on the street.

"Is the Doctor in?" Mr. Johnson asked.

Dr. Livingston hated this portly bald fool already. As if SHE couldn't be the doctor. But she knew from experience that was a argument she couldn't win. Not with such small minded people as these.

"Not right now. But what is your ailment?" Dr. Livingston asked.

"Well...I saw your ad." Mr. Johnson said. He'd have rather said it to the doctor, but this may be even better. He could feel this woman out to see if it was worth his bother. "The one about melancholia. My wife...well she has all the symptoms. I was wondering...is this treatment some sort of tonic?"

"Oh no sir," Dr. Livingston said, while thinking. Yes! The ad. Finally some good news at last. "it isn't a tonic at all, but science. Magnetics. Electrics. The latest techniques thanks to Tesla and Edison sir."

"Electrics you say?" Mr. Johnson said. "Is it safe?"

"Of course. And effective." She had him. She just knew it.

"How much is the cost?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"Five dollars a treatment," Dr. Livingston said. She would be able to pay part of the rent on her office.

"That's awfully steep," Mr. Johnson said. "How much for half a treatment?"

Cheap bastard! How much for half a leg? Or arm? Half a case of measles?

"Sir, melancholia is a very serious condition as you probably already know, else you wouldn't be here today," Dr. Livingston said. "Besides, it is guaranteed. If you aren't satisfied, the next visit is free. That's like paying for half a treatment."

"Okay..." Mr. Johnson dug in his wallet and handed the receptionist a five from a fat clip of many larger bills. "I'll need a receipt."

He smiled as she bent over to write out the receipt, and smiled even wider when he gave her ass a good feeling up. The receptionist was older than he preferred, but she had an impudent tone that deserved a good feeling up.

"Sir!" Dr. Livingston gasped with outrage, as she spun around. She was tempted to give him a good slapping, but she stayed her impulse and her hand kept a death grip on the money he had given her. She swallowed her pride and handed him the receipt.

'What an ass!' Dr. Livingston thought as she locked the door behind him. Well, at least she had five dollars and her first patient. After advertising so many medical services for weeks with not the first client, this was a welcome change. But a client on the first day of her new ad for melancholia. Who would have thought?

Speaking of melancholia....

Dr. Livingston bent down and removed her panties and sat down on her examination table, a foot going into each of the stirrups. She turned the knob up to two and attached a small round attachment to the cord. It began to buzz. She touched it to her clit and began to make small circles with it.

That bastard! He had felt her up like she was a nothing...a nobody. Not a doctor. Not with the respect she deserved. But the buzzing probe took all those thoughts away. Replaced them with a welcome tingling. 

It was her own invention. Well, the attachments were anyway. They were using the electrics in France when she left, but it was by accident she had touched it to her sex. Shocking! But then she thought....hmmm...I can use this. And with no clients and time on her hands...she did.

Moaning softy, she diddled her clit. Her hips thrust in response. Fuck. Oh fuck. The ad had been a last ditch effort. She could use the device on other women to treat their melancholia. It was better than tonics. At least it was for her. Her thighs began to tremble. She was gushing on the table. If only...if only it wasn't so messy.

Then she had another thought. She picked up a small bowl from a nearby table and sat it beneath her cunt. That should do it. She reached back and turned other knob to 1 and inserted the device in her very aroused sex.

Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck! The vibrations made her insides feel aflame. Her breath became ragged. Her thick thighs wouldn't stay still. The trembled. They clenched. They spread.

That smug rich asshole that had so infuriated her was quickly forgotten. There was only sensation. And heat. And there was something else now...an occasional spark of electricity that made her cunt spasm and buck. Made it clamp down on the small rod every two seconds.

Her hips thrust. Her cunt twitched. She held her breasts tightly with her hands and let the device work its magic, occasionally bending down to lick a hard thick nipple.

"Yes..yes...oh yes...." she moaned. And soon she was bucking, spasming, and twitching in pleasure. And a hot sweet...welcome ...orgasm.

When she was able, she turned the dials back to zero and pulled the rod from her sex. She looked in the bowl and crinkled her nose in response. She wondered how much it was...

She poured the contents into a small bottle. Hmmm....five teaspoons. Not bad. Not bad at all. She left the bottle on top of the device, took out a book and began to read. Soon after, she unrolled her bed and laid down. It hurt her back. And she was cold. After two hours of tossing and turning, she finally went to sleep.

....................................

The next morning, Cindy Johnson heard a knock on the door.

Who could it be at this hour she wondered? She was surprised when she opened the door. An older woman stood next to a large case on wheels.

"I'm not interested...." Cindy said. Although in truth she was. On the side of the case in large letters were the words, Electric. Magnetic. Miraculous.

"I'm not selling anything dear," Dr. Livingston said. "Your husband did tell you about the appointment he scheduled you for, didn't he?"


No he didn't. Damn it! He didn't tell her much of anything. But Cindy didn't tell the woman that. It would be improper.

Frank didn't say much to her these days. No, I love yous. No, I'll by home late tonight. Her mouth set into a frown as she thought of how he ignored her. Yet, she couldn't tell any of this to this woman standing at her door.

So, instead she answered," Of course he did...I - I just lost track of time."

"Be a dear and help me with my case," Dr. Livingston said.

On the bright side, it looked like Cindy was going to finally be able to learn what was inside that intriguing case. She couldn't help but be a bit disappointed when it was finally opened. It was all knobs, cords, and strange looking metal shapes, she could make head nor tales of.

"What is it that my husband was interested in purchasing?" Cindy asked.

"Purchasing?" Dr. Livingston said. "Oh you misunderstand my purpose here. He's sent me here to treat your melancholia."

"Melancholia?" Cindy said, holding her hand to her chest, now not sure of this woman, her husband...and now herself.

"But of course..." Dr. Livingston said, and soon the young housewife found herself hustled into the living room and before she could argue, the examination had begun.

"Open dear." Dr. Livingston inserted the tongue depressor in the young newlywed's mouth, giving a cursory glance at her throat, but mainly to shut her up. "Say ahhh..."

"Have you had symptoms of weakness? Irritability? Difficulty sleeping? Please remove your blouse so I can check your heart."

It was all going so very fast for Cindy. Cindy soon found her blouse and brazier had been removed, and a cold stethoscope applied to her chest. It all seemed so professional, much like her other visits with the doctor, yet she was suspicious. Who ever heard of a woman doctor? Cindy could feel her nipples stiffening due to the cold metal of the stethoscope.

"Deep breath in..." Dr. Livingston said. "Now release. Again."

Dr. Livingston put the stethoscope back in the case. "Very good. Other than the melancholia, you seem in good physical condition. Now I need you to remove the rest of your clothing."

"Excuse me?" Cindy asked, clearly uncomfortable with this new request.

"The rest," Dr. Livingston said. "Look girl, I don't have time for dramatics, I have another client was a broken leg I need to get to."

A broken leg? The doctor obviously had important things to be doing. People with actual ailments, and Cindy didn't really think she had melancholia. She didn't want this unwanted attention. She certainly didn't want someone to suffer additional pain while she procrastinated with the doctor. And then the young housewife found herself obeying the older woman's orders. Taking off her skirt, girdle, garters, stockings, and panties. 

Oh this girls a looker, Dr. Livingston thought to herself as she watched the timid housewife disrobe. Her body was lean and young. Her hair was strawberry blonde. Her eyes big and blue. Freckles covered her cheeks, breasts, and shoulders. Her nipples were the pinkest pink she had ever seen. A young housewife. Married only a year and already her husband wasn't satisfied. Such a shame. Well, there was no help for that, it was five dollars and Dr. Livingston needed the money desperately.

Dr. Livingston took out a metal attachment, this one a long metal wand and attached it the the wire. She turned the second knob to 2. That should do the job.

"Tell me if this is uncomfortable," Dr. Livingston said and then she touched the tip to Cindy's pretty ear.

"Ouch!" Cindy jerked back reflexively. She'd never experienced such a sensation, except maybe when she had hit her funny bone against something.

"Curious," Dr. Livingston said. "Was even this low setting uncomfortable to you?"

"Not uncomfortable," Cindy said. "Just surprising. The metal is cold."

But she had lied. She wanted to know something first before answering truthfully. "Why? Is it an indication of something?"

"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But you have nothing to fear since you merely reacted to the cold. Nothing to fear at all."

The wand was waving menacingly. Cindy tensed in anticipation, watched as it neared her neck only to change course and move to her breast, before finally settling on her lean stomach.

"Oh!" she gasped as her insides danced.

"Still too cold," Dr. Livingston asked, then warming the probe in her hand. Surreptitiously switching off the juice before doing so.

The housewife watched as the doctor held the probe that caused her such distress with no apparent problem. Then the probe stuck out again, this time sending a shock to her thigh.

"Perhaps you are ticklish?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Do you have sensitivity to being tickled?"

"Yes doctor," Cindy lied, feeling more and more unsure of herself by the moment. Did she have melancholia? And if she did, was she in danger? But she had already lied, and now she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth.

"We can't have you jumping and giggling whenever I touch you," Dr. Livingston said. "You could hurt yourself or damage my equipment. Down on the floor with you Mrs Johnson. On all fours."

"What for?" Cindy asked. "Are you sure that's proper?"

"Of course I'm sure," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm your doctor."

"But...but..." the young housewife stammered as the doctor guided her down on all fours.

"Sush dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This won't take but a moment. Put your hands in here."

And then she held open a loop she had quickly fashioned from the young woman's stockings.

"What is this for?" Cindy said, even as her wrists were cinched tight and tied to a sofa leg.

"This isn't necessary doctor," Cindy plead. "I'll hold still. I promise."

"If I had a dime for every time someone said that, I'd be a rich woman," Dr. Livingston casually replied, as she secured the housewife's ankle to the other leg of the sofa with her scarf. Finally she looped the girl's other ankle with her stockings and began pulling the leg over to a nearby chair.

"Madam I implore you," Cindy said angrily as she began to struggle uselessly. She had been holding her in temper, but at last it flared. However by now it was far too late. "Untie me this very instant. My husband is on the council. I'll....I'll have you thrown out of this city on your ass - doctor or no doctor."

"There's only one problem with that," Dr. Livingston said. The first problem was that Dr. Livingston had nothing to lose, but she didn't mention that detail. She chose another tact.

"Your husband wanted this examination. He's quite worried about your mental state. He described your symptoms of melancholia to me perfectly. Now, that doesn't mean you have the disease, but I would be remiss if I didn't test you thoroughly."

The doctor turned the knob up to four this time and proceeded to work. She touched the probe here and there. On less sensitive skin first, before moving on to other areas. A soft pale bottom. The small of a well-formed back. A toned lean stomach. A trembling thigh.

"Just tickling still?" Dr. Livingston asked. "No discomfort? No strange sensations?"

The doctor watched the young housewife's wild eyes. Watched her attention fixate on the probe. Watched her face grimace as it approached. Watched her steel herself. Then watched her young perfect body spasm delightfully from the effects of the electricity even as she mentally tried her best to resist. Watched her test her bonds. Listened to the young woman lie over and over again. Until at last the probe moved slowly toward her sex.

"No..." Cindy moaned. "Oh God...please..."

"What dear?" Dr. Livingston said. "Feel okay still? We are almost done with the test setting and then we'll try it for real next time."

Test setting? God, what would the other feel like. Cindy's tongue loosened.

"....I feel it doctor. It isn't tickling at all," she admitted. "It feels like a harsh tingling. Like a hit to my funny bone. Only it isn't on my funny bone at all."

"Oh dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This is just what I was afraid of."

"Of what?" Cindy didn't like the tone of the doctor's voice. If the doctor was afraid, then Cindy was very very afraid.

"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said convincingly. "One of the worst cases I've ever seen."

"Really?" Cindy whispered. "I don't feel bad. No more than most..." But now she wasn't sure. She had been feeling a little worse than usual lately. Tired. Irritable. 

"The test doesn't lie dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But don't worry, there is a treatment. A new one thanks to advances in science. One that I'm sure you'll like much better than that dreadful test."

Dr. Livingston was busy unscrewing the wand from the cord. She looked in the chest and pulled out an new device. This one had a handle about as big around as her thumb and a small ribbed ball on the end. She turned the electrics knob back to zero and turned the vibration knob to one.

She aimed the new attachment at the young housewife's sensual lips, only to have the girl pull away reflexively.

"Please..." Cindy begged. "Don't..."

"Sush...." Dr. Livingston said. "I promised you'd like this..."

She touched the probe to Cindy's swan-like neck. The girl gasped and jerked back. Then realized that the doctor was correct. It didn't hurt. She held still while the probe traced its way down her back. It felt rather nice. She didn't start struggling again until the probe made its way lower and lower. To her bottom. Dear Lord...between her cheeks.

Oh God! What was this dreadful woman up to? Cindy struggled against her bonds.

"Wait!" Cindy gasped. "What are you doing?"

"Why I'm going to stimulate your melancholia gland," Dr. Livingston said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All the while honing in on the young woman's sexy little pussy.

"I said wait dammit!" Cindy shouted. Goddamnit! The woman wasn't listening at all. Worse, Cindy couldn't do anything about it. "First ahhh.. tell me...ah..damn you woman...where is oh!...where is the gland?"

But Cindy knew already. Then it was too late. For the wand was now inside her. Humming. Vibrating. Making her tingly. The metal felt so cold. Yet still it was making her hot.

"It's inside you dear," Dr. Livingston said, as she moved the probe in and out Cindy's perfectly pink pussy. "In here. Haven't you noticed how when you are stimulated here, your mood improves? Or how when you have you monthlies, you feel absolutely horrid?"

"Yes..." Cindy gasped. But this was her sex. Hers. And now this horrid woman had something inside her. Doing things that had never been done before. Not by her husband. Not even by her. Things that made her feel as if she were losing control. And Cindy hated losing control. She closed her eyes and tried to fight these new feelings.

"Do you have a bowl dear?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Your gland was quite swollen and making a mess of your floor."

"The...the kitchen..." Cindy said and looked down between her legs. One drop and then another and another. Oh God...she was making a mess. She contracted her sex only to have it grip the vibrating beast inside her and drip all the more. "Gods...hurry woman...ah..damn...damn you...that rug is expensive..."

The doctor rummaged through the kitchen and Cindy looked down helplessly. She had always noticed that her sheets were always wet after sex. She had assumed it was her husband's fault..but now she was beginning to suspect it was hers. Was the woman going to take all day?

Then there was a knock on the door. Could it be her husband? He would put a stop to this madness. She almost yelled out Frank, but then realized he wouldn't have knocked. Then she saw the doctor going to the door. God no!

"Wait!" Cindy shouted. "Ahhh..please..ah...please dont' answer it."




A Cure for Melancholia



"Oh that wouldn't be polite dear," Dr. Livingston said.

"Don't you dare fucking open that goddamn door!" Cindy shouted, losing all pretense of being a proper lady. Anyone seeing her there on the floor, all spread out like some sort of slut, leaking on the floor like a faucet, would lose all respect for her.

Dr. Livingston ignored her and opened the door anyway.

"Can I help you?" Dr. Livingston said.

"Yes," the older woman said, sticking her long curious nose in the door to look around. "I just wanted to be sure you got here okay. That my directions were sufficient."

"They were perfect," Dr. Livingston said. "Next door to the right, just like you said."

The woman was making it hard, Mrs. Smith thought. Playing it close to the vest. She'd seen the case. Electronic. Marvel. Magnetic. Whatever it was, she deserved it. Not the young stuck up housewife that lived here.

"I couldn't help but notice your case," Mrs. Smith said. "After you left I couldn't help but wonder why you didn't stop at my house? Whatever you are selling here...it's only fair that I have my chance as well."

"Selling?" Dr. Livingston wondered. Perhaps she should try selling her device for all that people asked about it. However, it was doubtful they'd be able to buy such an expensive device. "You misunderstand. I'm a doctor, not a saleswoman. I'm here to treat Mrs. Johnson.

"Treat her?" Mrs. Smith asked, perking up at the thought of learning some new gossip. "Whatever does the poor dear have?"

"I shouldn't say this," Dr. Livingston whispered. "But she has melancholia."

"Melancholia?" Mrs. Smith asked. "Oh dear. Is it terminal?"


Could this be a new customer, Dr. Livingston wandered opened the door and ushered the woman in. "Would you like to come in for some tea? Then I could tell you all about it."

Poor Cindy Johnson. Leaking. Dripping. Tingling. Blushing furiously there on the floor. Helpless. Hearing the exchange at the door and her stomach filling with dread at the though. Finally taking matters into her own hands. "Mrs. Smith..." Cindy shouted from the den. "I'm indisposed at the moment. Please come back later."

Mrs. Smith hesitated momentarily. She wanted to come in now more than ever, but she didn't want to make the mistress of the house mad.

"Pay her no mind," Dr. Livingston said. "It's the melancholia talking."

"Don't you dare come in here," Cindy shouted. But she heard the two sets of steps echoing on against her polished wood floor. Damn! Double damn! "I mean it. I do. The den...the den is off limits to you....

bitch!!"

Cindy didn't even struggle at her bonds anymore. She knew it was useless. She hung her head in shame. That bitch didn't listen. What else could go wrong? Now, she'd be the talk of the block thanks to that gossiping old witch. Oh God. Spread as she was. Sweating. Leaking.

But then, she began to have hope once again when she heard Dr. Livingston stop Mrs. Smith in the doorway.

"Are you squeamish at all Mrs. Smith?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Because I must warn you that I'm treating Mrs. Johnson at this very moment. Do you consider yourself intellectual? Because some people find science a bit daunting."

"I consider myself a worldly woman.." Mrs. Smith said. "And I took care of my poor Harold before he passed away."

"Then come," Dr. Livingston said. "Let's go make a pot of tea and chat while Cindy finishes her treatment."


Mrs. Smith's curiosity was aroused, she wasn't sure what she expected to find, but what she didn't expect was a nude woman on her hands and knees, tied, spread, and with some sort of cord running out of her sex.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed, her hand automatically going to her mouth.

"Don't stare dear," Dr. Livingston said. "You are embarrassing the poor thing. Let me put this bowl in place so she doesn't make a mess on her expensive rug. Now about that pot of tea..."

The two older women went to the kitchen and put a pot of water to boil, while Cindy kept her head lowered in shame. God, her neighbor had seen her dripping on her floor. Could it get any worse?

Back in the kitchen.

"What did you say she had?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"Melancholia."

"The treatment looks dreadful," Mrs. Smith said. "Is it painful?"

"The treatment itself feels rather good I'm told," Dr. Livingston said. "But you must understand the patient isn't of her right mind. She's prone to suffer from outbursts of temper, delusions, and spontaneous fits. Even suicide and death.

"I always knew there was something wrong with her," Mrs. Smith said.

And while the water began to boil in the kitchen, Cindy Johnson was coming to a boil in the den. She felt all tingly inside. So warm. So hot. Her loins were all aflame. Good God, it felt like she was going to go out of control. To have one of these fits the doctor spoke of. Was this a new symptom of her melancholia?

When the two older women returned to the den, Cindy's control had faded even further. Her back was drenched in sweat. She had gone down to her elbows. Her legs were now spread wider than they were tied. Her hips pumped rhythmically, trying to find purchase on the vibrating probe secured firmly in her sex. There was no sound except the droning hum of the vibrator, a young housewife heavy breathing, and the steady drip drip as her secretions dropped into the bowl beneath her.

And her mind screamed she should be embarrassed. She should be mortified. Yet her body was in firm control of her facilities now. The women's presence and her own helpless state made the lightning in her loins dance all the more.

The doctor brought two chairs in from the dining table, placing one between Cindy's legs and another near her head. The two older women sat down, with the naked housewife tied there between them.

"She sounds like a pig..." Mrs. Smith said, after taking a dignified sip of her tea. "Grunting and sqeaking...."

"The poor dear can't help it, it's the melancholia that has her." Dr. Livingston said. "Would you mind turning the dial there...yes...the first one. Could you turn it up to four please?"

Mrs. Wilson bent down until she was near the case. A knob? Oh there it was. She could smell the young housewife's sweat. Her arousal. She could feel her hot breath on her cheek. She could hear the whispered, oh God..oh dear God no.....as she turned the knob clockwise to four.

"Oh no...ah...ah...ah..." Cindy breathed. The sensations in her sex were magnified. She felt a welling up inside her body. As if something were going to explode. "Dr....I ....feel...as if ..I'm ab out to have...some sort of....seizure...."


"Fight it," Dr. Livingston urged. "Fight it." But instead of helping the housewife with the battle she was fighting against her body, the doctor Unhooked the probe from the strap and began to pump it in and out. Working her with it.

"It must be dreadfully painful?" Mrs. Smith said, her voice growing breathy.

"I wouldn't know," Dr. Livingston said. "But she certainly is making a fuss over it, isn't she?"

Every muscle Cindy owned tensed up, yet that didn't stop the feeling of warmth that flowed through her tender loins. Then pleasure like she'd never known hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Ughh..." Cindy grunted. Her hips pumped, her body doing it of its own volition at first, but later the young housewife gave in and worked herself on the vibrating probe. Fucking it in a manner she'd never even done for her own husband - more animal than timid shy newlywed. Working. Arching her slim flexible back. Going back onto her haunches. No amount of shame or humiliation could make her stop. "Yes..yes..yes..." she grunted.

Dr. Livingston watched the young woman give herself to the pleasure. Watched the probe moving in and out the girl's wet pink lips. Watched, enthralled and amazed as the girl came...no gushed in such volume and quantity. And something in her just clicked. Oh she had suspected from the moment she'd met her. She was attracted to this small slim pixie of a housewife. She knew that it was unnatural. She knew that it could bring her complications. And yet she was just as helpless as Cindy to stop the things that were happening.

That she was making happen.

"Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I regret I didn't bring a nurse with me today to assist me. I thought this would be a routing house call...I never suspected to find the poor dear in such dire circumstance. I hate to ask you this...but would you mind helping?"

"What must I do?" asked Mrs. Smith.

"Nothing much," Dr. Livingston said. "Just continue what I'm doing. I must give her a tonic now."

Mrs. Smith got up from her chair and moved next to the doctor. Watching what she was doing. It looked easy enough.

"Is that all?" she asked taking the handle of the probe. "Just pump it in and out?"

"That's it," Dr. Livingston said, amazed that the neighbor was consenting so easily. "You want to try to drain all the infection from her melancholia gland. See how much she's already released?"

"Disgusting...filthy...." Mrs. Smith said. "To think I thought she was a proper woman...respectable...considering who she married...but she's...she's like some sort of slug...."

And though the harsh words filled her with shame....Cindy was helpless to stop her body from reacting to the pleasure that held her so firmly- so tightly in its grip.

While the older woman pumped, Dr. Livingston moved around to the front of the hapless newlywed. She removed the bottle from her case. The bottle that contained her own secretions from the day before. She knew what she was doing was wrong. So very wrong. But she couldn't stop, even as she unstoppered the bottle filled the teaspoon up with the viscous creamy liquid.

"Open up dearie," Dr. Livingston said. "It's time for your medicine."

"God, she stinks," Mrs. Smith said. "She smells like a disgusting fish."

Cindy's cheeks burned in shame. God, she just wanted this horribly embarrassing experience to be over with. She opened her mouth and accepted the spoon. It wasn't what she the strong burning taste she expected. It was thicker. More inert. Musty.

Though her insides protested, she swallowed obediently.

"Please doctor," Cindy whispered, oblivious to the thick strand of the viscous liquid dangling from her lip. She felt herself losing control again. Oh God, not like this...

"Can you at least....I beg you....at least get rid of her..."

The poor newlywed had hoped to resist a bit more. She had figured she had a few more minutes at least. Yet, Mrs. Smith seemed to anticipate the young newlywed's weakness. She pressed the probe home. Working the makeshift vibrator against her in all the right places. Working her over with it.

"Oh God....oh God...." Cindy moaned in despair as she was overcome by pleasure once again.

"Oh here it comes doctor, here it comes again. I did it." Mrs. Smith said with satisfaction as the housewife gushed again and again. "I had thought it would be like juicing a fruit doctor...but it's more like....more like milking a cow. And quite easy once you have the hang of it."

Dr. Livingston fed the girl two more spoonfuls of her own nectar. As she did so, she realized what she most wanted was to give it to her directly from the source. She was determined to. Yet, she wondered if Mrs. Smith would consent to doing such a thing. She must proceed with caution.

"How much of the infection has she passed Mrs. Smith?" Dr. Livingston asked.

Mrs. Smith looked into the bowl and hazarded a guess. "An eighth of a cup or so doctor. She's made quite a mess of it. A cow would be less messy..."

"So much?" Dr. Smith asked with incredulity, yet she had already figured it to be a lot. "I'm afraid the girl is in real danger. I fear I didn't bring enough tonic. I see no other way to save the girl unless a terrible sacrifice is made."

"A sacrifice" Mrs. Smith asked. "Of what sort? I think I've done as much as any neighbor could be asked. My hands are ruined..and God she's disgusting..."

"I must give her a transfusion." Dr. Livingston reached beneath her dress and pulled down her underwear. "Straight from the source. There's no time to waste." Dr. Livingston removed a pillow from the sofa and reclined on it in front of the poor newlywed. Spreading her thick legs wide.

"This may be too much for you, Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said to Mrs. Smith. "You may leave if you feel squeamish."

Mrs. Smith licked her lips hungrily in response. Her eyes eager to witness this final degradation of her snotty neighbor. "Oh no Doctor, I'll stay till till the very end. No matter the hardship."

But the young housewife had already endured quite enough.

"No!" she exclaimed. She spit on her expensive rug, God...what had she had in her mouth already? What had she swallowed? Was this the medicine? Was this the source? She felt as if she were going to gag.

"Hurry girl," Dr. Livingston urged, bringing her hairy pussy closer to the dismay of the young newlywed. "Hurry..."

"Go to hell!" Cindy spat.

Smack! Pain blossomed on Cindy's ivory bottom. A red hand print was left in its wake.

"That's no way to speak to your betters girl," Mrs. Smith warned. "Now apologize." And she delivered a blow. Then another. And another.

Cindy thought she'd be able to easily resist the pain. At least till her husband returned. But Lord, the woman had a heavy hand. She tried to resist. God how she tried. Then her chin began to tremble. Tears began to fall hopelessly down to the rug below.

"I'm...sorry...doctor..." she whined.

"Good girl," Mrs. Smith said, ceasing to spank the housewife's bottom, and returning to pumping her with the vibrating probe. "Now you get to work girl. It's time for your medicine."

Pleasure felt so much better than the pain. Cindy wished she were stronger. Yet, she couldn't help but doubt. What if she had melancholia? What if she were in real danger? If so, she'd be risking her life by resisting. She wormed her nose into the doctors curly hair. Found the slit beneath. Formed her mouth into a small 'O' and placed it to the opening and sucked.

"That's a good girl," Dr. Livingston said. "But not like that. It would be all day. First, the medicine must be coaxed. With your lips...kiss it there and there...gently..gently....oh that's nice....now use your tongue. Up and down my slit. Wonderful. Just like that. Make sure to go all the way up. See how it opens for you...like a pink flower."

Cindy looked down. She could see what Dr. Livingston meant, the woman's sex had opened like a pink flower. But Gods...to lick a woman there. Though it was part of her treatment...it still felt....

....degrading....

"Don't just stare at it all day. Keep going. That's a girl. Ahhhh...lick the petals of my flower. And like the top...just there. Oh so gently. Now look. Do you see how my pearl has swollen?"

Cindy nodded her head in response.

"Now you may suckle at the mouth of the flower, you've coaxed some medicine..."

Cindy formed her lips into an "O" and sucked at the mouth of Dr. Livinston's sex. The older woman gave a low pitched moan and spread her legs wider. "Splendid...now coax some more medicine."

And thus Cindy learned to coax a woman's juice. It was hard work and made her tongue ache. It also left her face a mess of sticky nectar. The largest drops and thick strands, Dr. Livingston collected on her fingertip and fed to the young newlywed. Until finally she came and inundated the poor girl with a copious amount of womanly nectar.

By the time Dr. Livingston collected herself and stood up on her wobbly legs, Mrs. Smith was already hitching up her skirt and taking off her panties.

"I milked her quite a bit more," Mrs. Smith said. "Nearly a quarter cup. She must be quite sick. I fear we must both do our fair share."

"I don't think it fair to ask you to put yourself out in such a fashion," Dr. Livingston said.

"Oh it's no bother," Mrs. Smith said as she gave the young housewife a hard smack on her rump. Just wait till she told her friends about this. About what she had done to stuck up little Cindy Johnson. Her heart was racing she was so excited.

"You aren't going to give me any trouble are you girl?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"No.." Cindy muttered. She had lost track of the number of times her body had seized up in pleasure. Each seizure had taken its toll. Robbing the formerly outspoken woman of her spunk. Of her will to fight. Nearly a quarter cup of it filled the bowl between her slim legs, leaving her as meek and docile as a little lamb.

The portly woman took her place where Dr. Livingston had lain. Taking a bit more time to get the extra sixty pounds she carried situated on the pillow at her back.

"After all girl," Mrs. Smith said. "I'm doing this for your benefit."

Dr. Livingston looked between the older woman's legs. At the mass of damp dark hair. Her lips already open and dripping. Her clit swollen and engorged. 'No, you are not doing this for her benefit alone,' she thought to herself and smiled knowingly.

Cindy soon learned this was a different sort of cunt than the doctor's. Where the doctors curly hair was silky and fine, Mrs. Smith's was thick and coarse. The musky odor of her neighbor was almost overwhelming compared to the hint of roses from the doctor. The cunt itself was swollen like a ripe peach. With the doctor, she had to coax and coddle it with her lips and tongue, with her neighbor she just held on for the ride. She did her best to catch her breath while the woman ground against her lips, her tongue, her nose and face. Till at last Mrs. Smith began to gasp and moan.

"Oh..oh...oh...oh!" Mrs. Smith's body tensed, her hips pumped, and at last she relaxed. Then she ordered the young housewife to lick up the secretions she missed.

Afterwards, Dr. Livingston asked Mrs. Smith, "The poor dear is going to need some looking after for the next few days. I'm afraid I can't pay you anything..."

"It's no problem," Mrs. Smith said, casting a hungry look down at the helpless and naked newlywed lying on the floor. "I'm a good Christian woman. I'll make sure she is well tended."

"Her infection should be drained daily," Dr. Livingston said. "I can't leave my device, but perhaps this will suffice." She handed the portly woman a medium sized phallic object. It was mean to be plugged in, but it would still work.

"No problem," Mrs. Smith casually inspected the well shaped metal device with casual disdain.

"And have her husband make another appointment for next week."

"I will."

"Perhaps we should see about untying her now." Dr. Livingston said.

"You go on ahead doctor," Mrs. Smith said. "I think have just a bit more medicine to give her."

Dr. Livingston watched Cindy's eyes widen in alarm. Help me, they begged.

"You are truly a saint Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "If everyone had a neighbor like you, the world would be a much better place."

Dr. Livingston packed up her case while Mrs. Smith settled back on the cushions. This time she had stripped out of her dress. The doctor didn't find the portly woman's fleshy body and large pendulous breasts arousing at all. Ah, but when she looked at the little red-haired newlywed, with her ivory flesh and perfect body, she could feel her pulse quicken. She shook her head lest she be tempted to taste the girl again.

"Be sure to keep track of the volume of her bad humours you are able to extract," Dr. Livingston said.

She wondered if the woman heard her. Mrs. Smith seemed too busy enjoying the young housewife.

"Get that tongue in there. Right up inside me. Oh! That's it. Just like that. Now, wiggle it around. Mmmmm....."

Dr. Livingston looked back. Watched as Cindy Johnson's took pleasure the way she wanted. Watched as she made Cindy's fine head of hair disappear between those thick thighs. Made her lick. Made her suck. Oblivious to the young newlywed's look of disgust.




A Cure for Melancholia



"Now open that beastly mouth." Mrs. Smith demanded as she stood squarely and spread her legs, locking one thick thigh over Cindy's shoulder, and tipping the young woman's head back with a firm grip on her hair. She spread her cunt with her other thick fingers, and sped a digit over her clit. "Mmmphh...I have a present for you girl....oh oh...here it comes...swallow quickly now..else you'll have to lick it off the floor..."

Dr. Livingston smiled as she witnessed the young housewife catch the first spurt of woman cum in her mouth, and the next on her face. However, the third...the third leaked out of those swollen cunt lips and spattered on the floor.

She had come so close....yet the poor girl was going to have to lick it off the floor, Dr. Livingston thought as she looked back on final time and closed the door.

++++++++++++++++++++

It was three weeks before Dr. Livingston managed to go by Cindy Johnson's house. During that time, word had spread around town. Wives that were irate and bitchy, became much more sedate and relaxed after a treatment. Women talked to one another as well, 'you must really get a treatment from the doctor. It's electrics and magnetics. It will leave you feeling as if you are queen of the world.'

Dr. Livingston was finally able catch up on her office rent. Even think of renting a home once again. Maybe even buying one. She had used her device on countless women, yet she couldn't get the first one from her mind. Cindy Johnson. She had a craving to see the girl again. She needed to. And yet an appointment hadn't been made. Well, she would just have to check anyway.

The door was answered by Cindy Wilson, but this wasn't the arrogant and impeccably dressed young woman that had greeted her three weeks ago. This girl was shy. Well mannered.

"Welcome to the Johnson residence," she said, with a tender smile. "How may I help you?"

Cindy was wearing a short night skirt. It was so thin it was practically see through. Dr. Livingston peered closely at the shape of the girls breasts visible through the thin fabric, then her eyes lingered down at the young woman's bare legs.

"I believe I can think of something," Dr. Livingston said.

"Who is it girl?" a booming harsh voice echoed from the den.

"It's the doctor madam...." Cindy answered.

"What's she doing here?" the sound of Mrs. Smith's footstep grew louder.

"Please help me," Cindy whispered to Dr. Livingston, her eyes growing wet with tears. "Please...I beg of you."

However, the instant Mrs. Smith turned the corner, the young woman changed into a new person. One happy and beaming.

"Oh I'm doing fine doctor," Cindy said cheerfully. "It's as if my melancholia has totally disappeared. And whenever it threatens to return, Mrs. Smith is kind enough to see to it that it doesn't burden me."

"What's keeping you girl?" Mrs. Smith as she stepped up to the front door.

"It's Dr. Livingston ma'am." Cindy said. "To check on my status I believe."

"And have you been telling the doctor any of your ridiculous stories?" Mrs. Smith said with an arched brow.

"No ma'am." Cindy said keeping her eyes downcast. "Just how well adjusted I was feeling due to your care."

"That's wonderful news," Dr. Livingston said. "How about we go in and perform an examination to be sure?"

"She's doing fine now," Mrs. Smith was curt and short as she told the doctor. "Surely there is no need for you to waste your time further."

"I'm already here," Dr. Livingston said. "And it won't take but a few moments. Now if you'll excuse us."

"I'll be right over here," Mrs. Smith said, helping herself to a nearby chair.

"Oh that won't do at all," Dr. Livingston said. "The examination is always done alone. Perhaps in thirty minutes you can return and help with her treatment....if it proves necessary."

"I'd rather stay," Mrs. Smith said. "Wouldn't it be best if you had someone who wasn't obviously delusional in case you have questions."

"I'm a doctor Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with someone suffering from melancholia. Even a severe case such as this. Besides, didn't you just say she was better? Now go on. It's time for her examination. I don't have all day."

Mrs. Smith reluctantly got up and made her way to the door. She looked back once. The warning in her eyes was clear. Don't you dare say anything.

As soon as the older woman left, the young newly began to babble hysterically.

"You must help me doctor," Cindy said. "She's awful truly awful. You wouldn't believe what she has done to me. My God, she even lives here now. 

"Mrs. Johnson, you don't seem very thankful for all she's put herself through," Dr. Livingston chided.

"What about what she's put me through?" Cindy exclaimed. "Look!"

With that the young newlywed turned around and lifted her sleeping shift, exposing the bare cheeks of her bottom. Dr. Livingston couldn't help but notice the now healing stripes across those two beautiful cheeks. The woman had been whipped, and it wasn't with a palm this time, but a belt or some sort of lash.

"Oh my..." said the doctor, running her finger along one of those perfect globes, then feeling them up. "When did you do this to yourself? We must give you more treatments. As soon as possible. Go fetch Mrs. Smith."

The doctor knew this wasn't the case, but she needed to know more. And this seemed a sure way to get at the truth.

"No doctor...it wasn't me. That..that bitch did this," Cindy whined. "While I was on the dining table milking my filthy cu..." The young newlywed's cheeks turned crimson in shame.

"What were you saying dear girl?" Dr. Livingston pressed.

"That's what she calls it," Cindy muttered, blushing at her slip of the tongue. "And she makes me call it that too. My filthy cunt. I would never say such on my own...I used to call it my little friend...but not anymore..else she whips me.

She calls herself a good Christian, but you should hear her order me around. She tells me to get atop the table and milk my filthy cunt."

"The table?" The doctor wanted to see this herself. She wanted so desperately to see.

"The dining table doctor," Cindy blushed with humiliation. "And that's not the worst by a long shot. She hasn't used the device you gave her at all. Instead, she makes me mount a giant candle she has fashioned into a large perverse...cock ..........madam. If only to taunt me and humiliate me I'm convinced."

"You must be suffering from delusions girl." Dr. Livingston reached her hand up and felt the young housewife's forehead for a temperature then the sweet girl's chest. "Are you feverish?"

"I'm not delusional," Cindy dragged the doctor into the dining room and removed a large vase. It had a false bottom and there rising up luridly from the table, a large white phallus just as the girl described.

It was actually much larger than Dr. Livingston imagined. Her mouth gaped in astonishment. Surely not! And yet the sight made excitement run through her loins.

"Is this some sort of game you are playing at?" Dr. Livingston said. "Planting some sort of prop and then send your neighbor from the house? Am I just to take your word for it then? The word of a delusional melancholic over a good Christian woman? Any fool can see that this candle is much more than you could accommodate. Now be a dear and go fetch Mrs. Smith. You've got some explaining to do."

"But...but..." Cindy stammered. This wasn't going well at all. She must convince the doctor the only way she knew how. She opened the cabinet of the bureau and took out a bowl, placing it under the table. Then she shrugged out of her thin shift. Then used the chair as a step, and went to the top of the table.

"I know it's big doctor. And I've told her a hundred times that it's too big for me ...or at the very least... to let me do this elsewhere," Cindy said. "If someone were to come to the front door, they might see through the sheers. But the fat witch just laughs and tells me I better hurry then."

Cindy stuck her finger in her mouth for moisture, then ran it over the lips of her sex. Then she spit on the head of the large wax phallus. It's large girth even more pronounced as the slim woman spread the lubrication over the head and down the shaft with her tiny hands.

"When I first saw it," Cindy explained. "I thought it was some sort of joke. No way would such a monster go inside of me. But she used the lash to convince me. Oh she did doctor. You've seen the bruises. And it took a great deal of convincing. Trust me on that."

The petite newlywed moved her delicate feet out, straddling the vulgar candle. It was too big for the poor girl to make a go of it on her knees. So she had make do. Keeping on her feet. Thighs spread. Slowly lowering herself on it. Her slim thighs trembling with the effort. 

She gave a groan as it slipped in. Her brows knit together. Her forehead grew moist, and so did her sex. She had it now. The worst was over. Up and down. Up and down. Shallow strokes, but each one took it deeper and deeper. Her juices wet along the thick wax shaft.

Dr. Livingston couldn't resist reaching her hand out, if to touch the sexy young girl if only for a second. Pushing her thighs open so she could see better.

"I can hardly believe it," Dr. Livingston said. "But you managed it. God you are sexy woman," 

Cindy blushed a bright crimson at the compliment. At one time such a comment from another woman would have angered her. But after three weeks of Mrs. Smith harsh barbs, she felt herself almost preen for a few kind words. 


"She makes me do this during the bridge club," Cindy said, her voice husky and out of breath. "Her friends have taken to calling me names...just like her...they say I'm ugly. Skinny. That I stink of fish. That I'm filthy. How my face grimaces when I ....oh God...when I..."

And by now the young housewife was grimacing again. She couldn't help it. No matter how she tried. And she tried so hard. A smile. It should be so easy. And yet, she could feel her face scrunching. Couldn't stop from biting her lower lip.

"I see what those ladies are talking about," Dr. Livingston said. "What's causing you to make such a dreadful face my dear? Is it the melancholia? Are you having a seizure?"

"Oh God...ugh...I don't know doctor..." Cindy moaned. "It's as if...as if my face...has a mind... of its own when I'm being milked...I try...I try- but...oh ...oh...oh!"

And then a surge of pleasure flooded the young newlywed's loins. Hitting her with the force of a gale. Making her slim hips buck. Her legs dance and quiver. And no matter how many times it happened, she felt shamed each and every time as if it were the first. Her body gushed. Was milked. She held her hand in front to keep from making an even bigger mess. Guided her fluids into the indention made in the center of the table.

Dr. Livingston's nostrils flared as she realized what just happened. As she realized the quantity of discharge. My God, what a girl this was! I geyser of juice. What must it feel like to climax in such an explosive fashion?

Cindy pressed her fluids out. Cupping her pussy and pressing in. Using her finger to free as much as she could from her thighs, from the table, from her fingers. Pushing them into the indention and down through the freshly drilled holes.

Once the newlywed's body had subsided enough for her to get control of her spasming limbs, she began to climb off the massive phallus.

"I must see if I have milked it sufficiently," Cindy said, her cheeks burning a bright red.

"How much is required?" Dr. Livingston asked the young housewife as she retreated beneath the table to check the progress.

"Up to the line doctor. I fear I'm only halfway there."

"And you do this while they play bridge?"

"Yes...and while they make cruel comments and jibes...and then after I've milked myself...I have to come down here to check my progress...they don't let me up for hours....and until I've taken my tonic ...sometimes several times in a row...then I'm forced back to the tabletop again. They...they don't even wear panties when they come over any more."

"Dear, they are only helping with your treatment," Dr. Livingston said as she began to remove her panties. "While you are down there."

Underneath the table, so confining, nothing but her and a pair of stockinged legs, a large dress, strong thick thighs and a very wet pussy. It was a familiar sight by now. Cindy had hoped not to have to do such a thing again now that she told the doctor. But she hadn't given up hope yet...even as the young newlywed crawled forward and began to kiss...to lick...to suck.

"Oh dear!" Dr. Livingston gasped. The girl had learned a thing or two in her absence. Oh God! Her fingers ran through the pretty young woman's hair...a thing or three. In less than ten minutes the girl had coaxed an orgasm from the older woman..and quite an orgasm it was too. Positively mind blowing!

And for Cindy it was a pleasure compared to those other women. With their fat thighs and coarse hair, they very nearly always managed to chap her sensitive lips. And they smelled. Of staleness and mothballs. And a dank musk. The doctor's musk was fresh and florid with a hint of lilac. Her hair was curly and soft as down. And she didn't call her lazy. Or stupid. Or smelly. Instead she praised her.

"Oh you do that so well my dear. Such a soft and nimble tongue. Ah I've never felt such soft lips." Until at last the doctor grabbed the young housewife by her hair and pulled her tight as she spasmed from pleasure. And then after, it was almost impossible to keep still as the subjugated housewife licked and sucked every last drop of nectar from the well-sated cunt.

After the doctor came down from her orgasm, Cindy finally rose up from beneath the table. It was time for her to finish milking.

"Don't bother with that dear," Dr. Livingston said. "I can milk you far better than that monstrosity."

The doctor opened her case and hooked up a probe. Then she turned the dial to three. Yes, three would be splendid. Then she led the naked housewife to a nice comfy chair. The doctor sat down in it, placed a small bowl in her lap, and then perched the petite housewife there on arm of the chair.

So beautiful and meek, with her prefect pink skin and her perfect pink lips. Her shiny red hair. Dr. Livingston used the probe on the young woman. This wasn't a hard inflexible uncaring wax monster, but a small buzzing probe, working her, getting to know her, and giving her pleasure.

Pleasure so great, so overwhelming the young housewife didn't realize that she had fallen from the arm of the chair and into the arms of her doctor. Didn't realize it as she had nuzzled the woman's neck. Had kissed her painted red lips. Or that her tongue had left her mouth and danced with another woman's...until they were out and dancing as if they had known each other for years.

"Oh God! Oh God!" Cindy moaned. It was time. And she couldn't stop it. She just held on tight and put her hands over her sex to keep from gushing all over the good doctor. To guide it into the bowl down below. God, so much fluid. It was one of her biggest milkings yet.

Then after, she stayed there in the safety of the doctor's strong arms. With her tears flowing freely down her cheeks, she told the good doctor of her trial...and told her the worst of her tribulations...

It wasn't the milkings or the bridge club that had her so upset. Or even being treated like a servant in her own home. That could be endured.

"...oh doctor...please...you must help me...she is sleeping with my husband," Cindy blubbered. "I think it was her plan all along. She told him about my melancholia the very first night when he came home from work. She made up horrible lies of things I said. She promised him she'd look after me. And Frank...Frank was too scared to touch me. Mrs. Smith suggested I use my mouth on him....it wasn't fair that he should suffer due to my condition. And I did, but before I had even started, she came in the bedroom and began to give me pointers. How to do it properly.

I asked her to leave. And then she grew all haughty. You know the way she does. The bitch. She told me she was only trying to help.

It was just too much to bear. I mean...with my own husband...using my mouth on him....while Mrs. Smith disparaged me. All the while moving ever closer, until she held his cock in her thick pudgy fingers. Moving it out of the way whenever I tried to please him. Pushing it into my nose. Slapping it against my face. Telling me how lucky I was to have a husband with such a splendid cock even as she kept it away from me and taunted me with it. How it was a shame for him to have to put up with my sickness. How he deserved more than my clumsy attempts.

I..I...begged Frank to make her leave...but he just sat there and said she was only trying to help....even taking her side of things.

But I knew...I knew what that bitch was trying to do. Her fat fingers wrapped around his cock as she finally let me take him in my mouth. Only this time she pushed the back of my head, making me take him deeper and deeper until I began to gag and choke.

"You are so hopeless," Mrs. Smith said, her fat fingers still pumping up and down on my husband's cock while I gagged and coughed. "Anyway...that's quite enough of that. If it were going to happen, it would have happened already. Besides...isn't it time for another treatment."

But the clock hadn't rung yet. I told her I wasn't ready to leave. I looked to Frank to back me up. He wasn't even looking at me...just at that bitch...at the hand that still held his hard manhood. Worse, oh doctor. There was heat in his eyes. And then he ordered me to leave. My own husband.

And while I was downstairs on the table...in the dark...I could hear them...moaning...the bed creaking...she was fucking my husband and I had nothing...nothing but that horrible wax thing on the table...

"Perhaps they were just talking," Dr. Livingston said. This story had left her tingly. She needed to feel that sweet tongue again.

"They were in the room all night together...they...they locked me out. My own bedroom and they locked me out. In the morning...I could smell...I could smell her on my bed. I know her smell doctor...her horrid dank smell...I smell it when I eat...when I sleep...I have nightmares of that smell."

"I think you are being to harsh on your neighbor. You know how men are dear," Dr. Livingston gave the young girl a consoling kiss that started innocent enough, but then began to linger...and grow more insistent. "They think with their privates...and they can be very persuasive."

"I know," Cindy said, finding it hard to concentrate with what the doctor was doing. But she had to concentrate. She had to get rid of that horrible woman and only the doctor could help her now. "But it's HER I'm concerned about. She's not helping me. Quite to the contrary, she's using my ailment to her advantage. I sleep in the guest bedroom now, while she sleeps in the master bedroom. And you don't know what it's like. How hard it is...if I cry...if I'm unhappy...it's a sign of my melancholia....and then it's back on the table...or under the table...or the strap...I don't know which is worse."

"You poor dear," Dr. Livingston said. "And now it seems you are having another flare up again. So soon after your treatment too. Do you need some more tonic? I think you could coax a bit more out of me. Come on dear...why don't you go underneath my skirt this time. That's my poor sweet dear....let's have a smile...such a pretty face deserves a smile..."

The corners of Cindy's mouth moved up in a grimace. The doctor wasn't listening. Just thought she was some poor deranged lunatic.

"A real smile," Dr. Livingston said. "Or perhaps you need another trip to the table?"

Cindy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She rumaged around her brain to find just what she was looking for. Ah there it was...her seventeenth birthday...there in the livingroom...a shiny bike with a bow....




A Cure for Melancholia



Cindy's grimace turned to a smile. Her eyes beamed fresh and vibrant.

"That's my girl," Dr. Livingston said raising her skirts. "Now come take your tonic."

"Thank you doctor," Cindy murmured as she disappeared beneath the older woman's skirts. The woman's pussy didn't smell of lilacs any longer, but sexual musk. She gave the woman another orgasm...all the while thinking of her favorite bike while she diligently licked and sucked. As best as she was able. Perhaps after...she'd be amendable to listening.

And after two orgasms, Cindy once again tried to coax the doctor into seeing her point of view. She kept down between the woman's thick thighs, and with lowered expectations, she licked and kissed her now and again to get her point across.

"But doctor...I really appreciate all you've done for me. And I'm thankful to have such nice neighbors, truly I am. But don't you think one that has a husband of her own would be a better caretaker for me? Perhaps you have an assistant of sorts?"

Cindy gave a shiver at the thought. Who knew what sort of person could work for the doctor...but whoever it was...she'd most likely be better than Mrs. Smith. Anybody would. Soon the doctor's fingers roamed freely through her curly red hair, all the while moaning 'Yes-yes-yes" to every question. Cindy took advantage sneaking a few well placed questions in. Afterwards, with her face coated with nectar, she knelt red faced and smiling. At last she was rid of that horrid Mrs. Smith.

"My dear," Dr. LIvingston said. "I'm amazed at how far you've come in these last weeks. Just look at that pretty face. And such a happy smiling face it is too, isn't it?"

Cindy smiled even bigger, even as her tongue snaked out and licked the older woman's engorged vulva. And the smile was a true and honest smile too. Not one brought about by thinking of a shiny new bike...but of a freshly paid complement...something that had been sorely lacking in these few short weeks.

"Then you've decided then?" Cindy asked, praying the doctor still remembered what she agreed to. "Will it be another neighbor that supervises my treatment? Or perhaps your assistant?"


"I haven't decided yet," the doctor said. "But I'm considering a lot of alternatives."

"Oh thank you doctor..thank you!" And with that Cindy kissed the woman on her crinkled purple tinted lips without a single thought for what was proper or not. And then she licked the good doctor in earnest to show her thanks properly.

It was while she was licking that Mrs. Smith decided she'd waited long enough.

"I see you are giving her another treatment," Mrs. Smith said. "And did you also milk her?" 

"No...you keep going dear..." Dr. Livingston caught Cindy by the hair and held her in place. "Now it's time for me to talk to Mrs. Smith." To Mrs. Smith: "Yes, I've already extracted a large quantity of humours from the patient. So of course I'm giving her another dose of tonic. The patient says you've been doing quite a bit of extracting these few weeks."


"Lies..." Mrs. Smith spat. "Fantasies and fabrications."

"Oh?" Dr. Livingston said. "Cindy was telling me what a wonderful job you were doing with the extraction of her bad humours along with the rest of her treatment. Those were the instructions you were given. I thought you more responsible when I left you in charge..."

Cindy licked slower, enjoying hearing the doctor expose the old bitch that had come into her house and treated her like an animal and taken her husband. She was also relieved that the doctor didn't tell the woman what she'd said. Mrs. Smith was going to be her neighbor whether she liked it or not...and the woman scared the hell out of her.

"Oh no doctor," Mrs. Smith said. "I misunderstood what you were asking. I've milked her just as you said. See?"

Mrs. Smith went over to the buffet table and opened the bottom drawer and pulled out several jars full of milky fluid. "I've very nearly run out of room to put it all."

"Oh my!" Dr. Livingston said. Just the sight of it was almost enough to take her over the edge. She had to move Cindy tongue away to take a breather, before letting the girl start again. "You mean...that's ...that's all from her?"

"Oh yes!" Mrs. Smith said. "I used to work on a farm as a child. It's a simple enough matter to keep a schedule to determine the best times to milk her filthy cun...I mean extract her ah...bad...humours."

"Very inventive..." Dr. Livingston said.

"I needed to bring in some help," Mrs. Smith said. "I'd never be able to provide enough tonic on my own. So some of the neighbors have chipped in...to compensate."

"Such a wonderful neighborhood you live in Mrs. Johnson," Dr. Livingston said. "I've never seen so many woment so willing to help."

This wasn't going the way Cindy had figured. Mrs. Smith was turning it all around. She came up for air. "My husband...mmphhhh...." Only to have Dr. Livingston wrap a meaty thigh around the back of her neck and pull her in tightly.

"Yes..her husband," Dr. Livingston said. "I hear Mr. Johnson has been coming to you to relieve his sexual frustrations. One woman can't save the world Mrs. Smith, I don't want you neglecting the patient just because her husband can't keep it in his pants."

"Oh you know how men are," Mrs. Smith said. "Besides...I haven't been neglecting the little bitc...I mean...the patient. I've milked her. I put myself out for her. I've...I've brought in my friends to help. I've even...I've even helped her with Frank...when she clearly hasn't been able. He's a good man Frank is. It's a pity he's been burdened by such a sickly wife."

"If he's such a good man," Dr. Livingston said. "Then why hasn't he made an appointment for his poor sick wife?"

"He's been very busy," Mrs. Smith said. Cursing herself inside for putting him off from making an appointment with the doctor. She had been scared of the doctor finding out some of the things that had been going on. Now it seemed like she had been scared for no good reason. The doctor was only upset because an appointment hadn't been made. As well it should be...it wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. Nothing at all.

"I understand he's a busy man," Dr. Livingston said. "But his wife needs treatment. Timely treatment."

"How much?" Mrs. Smith said. "Her fingers clutching at the clasp of her pocketbook."

"Five dollars." Dr. Livingston said.

"So much?" Mrs. Smith said. "How much for half a treatment?"

"How much to deliver half a baby?" Dr. Livingston asked condescendingly. "For half a life?"

"What if I sent her to your office in the afternoon? She's in the way here after our bridge game anyway. She could clean up for you a bit. Could I get some sort of discount then?"

"I wouldn't feel safe for the poor thing to be on the streets at night," Dr. Livingston said. "What if something untoward happened."

"She could stay overnight," Mrs. Smith interjected. Thinking: Then I'll have the bitch totally out of the way and her husband all to myself. "Then you could send her over in the morning."

"Mmmppphhh..." Cindy struggled to protest, but her mouth was full of snatch. Finally she was able to free herself to interject. "Wait...I won't leave that bitch alone with my husband.

"Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I believe she's having another flare up of melancholia. Would you be so kind as to insert that probe inside her? Turn the left knob to 3 and the right knob to 4..."

Mrs. Smith gave a sly smile and turned them to 6 and 8 respectively. 

"No....mpphhhh...." Cindy's body went rigid as the probe was inserted. It wasn't like before. No light vibrations to take her gently to orgasm. No, this time the vibrations were intense, plus there was a shocking pulse that was dealt to her insides that made them clench so hard, they nearly made her void her bladder.

"Now run it along her lips and her pearl," Dr. Livingston said as she held the young housewife trapped between her strong thighs.

Cindy was bucking like a horse saddled for the first time. She gave a gasp and moan as an orgasm racked her slim young body. Her pussy gave a spasm without warning and then she gushed, and erupted in a wet geyser. Covering the floor in the process and Mrs. Smith as well.

"Disgusting bitch," Mrs. Smith exclaimed. "Has she infected me?"

"Of course not," Dr. Livingston said. "Now shove it back inside. Quickly!"

"Mmmmppp....mmmplhhhff," Cindy grunted as her body was wracked by two more orgasms back to back. Her orgasms, already so very intense, were now painfully so. At this point she was willing to do anything...anything not to feel yet another one.

"Now turn the dial back down to 2 and the one on the right all the way off," Dr. Livingston said.

Mrs. Smith made only a passing effort, and turned them down a notch or two and kept at it, making the poor girl buck and writhe. This time taking care to stand well away from her cunt lest she erupt again.

The doctor released the young housewife's head from between her muscular thighs and tilted her chin up. It was impossible to tell where her sexual slime ended and the tears began.

"Are you feeling well dear?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Has your attack of melancholia subsided?"

Her chin trembling, Cindy managed to choke out a 'Yes, ma'am..." Before biting her lip and once again falling victim to another unwanted orgasm.

"Are you sure dear?" Dr. Livingston said. "You look like the world is ending. Mrs. Smith, will you please turn the knob to 5 again?"

"Oh no doctor!" Cindy exclaimed. "I'm fine. Truly I am. The attack...it's gone now. It was just so strong that it left me out of breath." The newlywed closed her eyes, and cast her mind back. She was twelve years old and looking in the dime store window and saw the prettiest shoes she'd ever seen. Her mom saw the yearning in her big blue eyes.

"Do you want those shoes dear?" her mom asked.

"Oh please...."Cindy exclaimed. "Can I have them?"

And her mom took her right inside and bought them. It was one of the happiest days of her life.

Cindy opened her eyes back up. Though they were still wet with tears, this time they were full of happiness.

"The fit has is over now doctor," Cindy said. "Truly it is. I'm feeling much better now. So very happy. It isn't necessary to give me another treatment. May I..may I just take my tonic?"

The young newlywed's pink tongue flicked out and caught the older woman's clit. It flicked out again but this time swirled around it twice. 

"Please...just a bit of tonic" Cindy begged, having long since learned that a bit of licking could turn that hard bitch Mrs. Smith soft...if only momentarily. The doctor should be much easier. However, there were a few little niggling feelings that tried to break her train of thought. Thoughts of her subjugation. Her shame. Memories of how her life before she was diagnosed with melancholia. Before Mrs. Smith moved in and put her under her thumb.

The young housewife chased those thoughts away lest they bring on another fit, an in turn another session with the probe. Amazing how such a device could turn pleasure into sensation that was nearer to pain. 

"You can turn the machine off Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "It appears the fit has passed." The doctor ran her fingers through the newlywed's fiery mane. Directed the woman's tongue here and there.

"Oh you are so good at this," Dr. Livingston cooed. "Your tongue feels like velvet. It makes my cunt run like honey."

The doctor enjoyed the feeling of that tongue until another orgasm held her in its grip. When it was over she held the poor young woman there on her knees. There with her face wedged firmly into her dark muff.

"Just stay right there dear," Dr. Livingston said. "Just in case you need another session of milking or another dose of tonic." 

"Now where were we Mrs. Smith?" Dr. Livingston said. "Ahhh yes transportation arrangements. I just couldn't bear to have the poor dear on the streets at night in her mental state. What if she had a seizure like she just had along the way?" 

"You could keep her overnight," Mrs. Smith suggested.

Cindy could hear the excitement drip from the fat cow's voice. Oh how she wanted to get her hands on CIndy's husband. Oh how Cindy wanted to kick the fat bitch out of the house...out of her house. But those crinkled old lips in front of her served as a stern reminder of what an outburst would bring.

"How would that be dear?" Dr. Livingston asked, tilting Cindy's head up by her chin. "Would you like to spend the night with me?"

"But my husband..." Cindy stammered.

"Is that a frown I see?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Mrs. Smith would you turn the knob to-"

"Oh no," Cindy quickly interjected. "Of course not. I would love to....I'm only concerned that my husband would be here alone and I'd be..."

"Oh the poor dear is terrified of sleeping alone. Do you hear that Mrs. Smith." Dr. Livingston said, addressing Mrs. Smith and ignoring the young woman kneeling obediently between her thick thighs. To Cindy: "Not to worry dear, you can sleep in bed with me. I'm afraid it's a small bed, but you'll be quite cozy. What is that dear? Is that a frown I see? I fear I'm all out of tonic? Mrs. Smith? Could you oblige?"

Mrs. Smith huffed her dismay, standing with her hands on her hips.

"If I must.." she said, pulling down her panties. Almost out of breath getting them down her wide hips. "Hurry up cow...I haven't got all day."

Cindy quickly crawled between her nemesis's's fat thighs. Oh how she hated this bitch. Yet she knew better than disobey. The woman may have been old, but she was strong as an ox. And she had a heavy hand with a switch or a belt. Worse, the woman had a mean streak a mile long.

And as Cindy quickly discovered, the woman was also already very wet. Her smell musty and dank. Not like the doctor's. She closed her eyes and dreamed of scenes of Paris she'd seen in a book she had read... and began to lick.

"You can send her to me after lunch each day," Dr. Livingston said. "And I'll send her back after breakfast the following day. I can't help but notice the bruises on her backside. What are you using? A belt? A switch?"


"Ahh....both..." Mrs. Smith answered with a lusty moan. To Cindy: "Not so hard cow. Slowly..."

"Well that isn't acceptable." Dr. Livingston said.

Of course it isn't acceptable, Cindy thought there between the hateful woman's fat legs. At last...at last the doctor had noticed what was going on here. And she was going to do something about it.

"She's deserving of it..the little cow..." Mrs. Smith argued. "And the good book tells what happens when the rod is spared."

"Be that as it may," Dr. Livingston said. "A hand or a paddle only. I don't want to see any more stripes or broken skin."

"A good strapping makes her mind her manners, but I guess I can oblige. Doctor's orders and all." Mrs. Smith said as she ran her fingers through Cindy's hair. It was almost a loving gesture, but Cindy knew better. It was only for the doctor's benefit.

"When I used to milk cows..." Mrs. Smith continued. "Every once and awhile, there'd be one that tried to kick me. I didn't need a strap to teach them the better of it."

The woman...the fat bitch hated her. Then those fingers, those big round fingers went down to her chest. Found firm nipples and pinched. Hard!

"mmmphhhh!" Cindy moaned, tears rising in her eyes, while her cries of dismay smothered by the awful woman's sex. She struggled to break free, to warn the doctor that the bitch was going to torture her anyway, even without a switch.

"Don't even think about trying me you filthy cow," Mrs. Smith whispered. "You will not take what I've earned."

Cindy heeded the warning, ceasing her struggles and despondently returning to the task at tongue.

"We are in agreement then?" Dr. Livingston said. "Good. I think I'll be able to continue her treatments for $20 per week."

"That's preposterous..." Mrs. Smith stammered. "She'll be earning her keep by cleaning and assisting."

"*If* she isn't having a fit of melancholia and that's a big if," Dr. Livingston said. "Then there's the extra food and care. Such things aren't cheap."


"That's robbery," Mrs. Smith said. "Frank will never agree."

"You are probably right..." Dr. Livingston said. "Perhaps it will be best to hire a nursemaid to take care of her here. There's a pretty little thing who assists the other doctor in town that would be glad for the work..."

"No..." Mrs. Smith said. A pretty little thing here with Frank? It was blackmail. The doctor's knowing smile said she knew it too. Blackmail or no, it would upset everything she'd worked for. She quickly caved. "It isn't necessary to go to such trouble. Besides the girl wouldn't know what to do with someone like this one here. I know what's good for her. "

"Well...." Dr. Livingston feigned indecision.

"As I was saying," Mrs. Smith continued. "It was just that the price you quoted seemed high." She did a little math in her head. She'd let her friends enjoy Cindy's tongue for free, but she was sure they'd pay. Fifty cents or a dollar? Surely. That would be at least 7.50 per week. Four from Frank and 3.50 from her. That do it quite easily.

"Fifteen dollars?" Mrs. Smith volunteered.

"Only if she's a hard worker," Dr. Livingston said. "Otherwise twenty."

"Oh she'll work hard," Mrs. Smith said. "I'll see to it."

That tongue was getting slow. Lazy. Mrs. Smith reached her fat calloused fingers underneath the housewife and gave her nips a good pinch. Then another to be sure.

Cindy's poor tongue ached. And her lips felt swollen and bruised. But those cruel fingers on her sensitive nips spurred her to action, helped her find reserves that had been hidden. Made her tired aching tongue flutter and flit as if it were fresh and new.

"Oh she'll be quite diligent." Mrs. Smith breathed. "I promise."

+++++++++++++++++++++

Three months later.

"Are you scared dear?" Dr. Livingston put a reassuring hand on the young woman's thigh and gave a squeeze.

"A bit." Cindy said. But in truth her heart hammered in her chest. She was terrified.

"This is nothing but another treatment," Dr. Livingston said. "Just you and me and the device. Nothing at all to worry about. Oh dear...now it's time. Go on. Just like we said."

Cindy stood and took the stage. Though her knees threatened to give as she took the stage, when she reached the podium, she cleared her throat and managed to find her voice.

"Hello learned doctors," Cindy said. "My name is Cindy Johnson and I ... suffer from acute melancholia. It was my husband who was first aware that something was wrong with me. To be honest I never suspected. I was taken to several specialists. I've had tonics and leaches, but nothing seemed to help. Until I was taken to Dr. Livingston. Doctor."

There was a gasp and a clearing of the throat as Dr. Livingston took the stage. Cindy always felt sorry for the woman. It was clear these men weren't expecting a woman. Were feeling like they'd been had.

"Gentlemen, yes I am a woman," Dr. Livingston said. "I was educated in France and am just as learned as the next doctor. And in this case, I think that being a woman has given me insight into the condition you refer to as melancholia."

The audience grew more rowdy. A few of the doctors were getting out of their seats and heading for the door.

"Miss Johnson...your clothing."

Cindy licked her lips. Feeling her cheeks turn a bright red as she shed her clothing while Dr. Livingston helped with some of her many buttons and ties.

"Have you noticed doctors that only bleeding seem to reduce a patients melancholia? Have you noticed that the afflicted are almost always women?

In the stirrups please Mrs. Johnson."

Dr. Livingston put on a pair of gloves and began to assemble her first probe. It was her favorite, slender with a small round bump-covered ball affixed to the end. She usually just used this one, but in this case she was going to be using quite a lot of different probes for demonstration purposes.




A Cure for Melancholia



Cindy hated this part. Normally, this was a treat, having the doctor give her a wonderful orgasm. But not this time, not only was there an embarrassing audience gathered around to watch her shame herself, she was going to be tested as well.

It wasn't a test of the young woman's obedience, she'd proven that time and time again. She'd proven it with her tongue. With her lips. Proved it with every patient she'd treated. She didn't treat them as Dr. Livingston did. She didn't have some scientific gadget. A gadget that was marvelous, magnetic, and electric. No, she used something that was much more personal and perhaps more dexterous. She used her pink wiggly tongue.

Some women were quite happy with the doctor's treatment. But others wanted a more personal touch. Word had traveled around their small city. Word of the doctor's nurse and her special treatment.

Women. So many women. Some young and pretty. Some old and fat. But Cindy wasn't allowed to be picky. She wasn't allowed to discriminate. 

It all started so innocently. They hemmed and hawed.

They would ask talk about the weather. They'd clear their throats. A rosy blush would spread over their cheeks if they were young.

"I heard there was another treatment.," they'd say.

"There is. But it's twice as much as the normal treatment," Dr. Livingston would say.

Cindy usually said a prayer. Unless the woman was pretty. More often than not, she wasn't. The young one's would usually balk.

"So much?" they'd ask. "Perhaps a discount. I've been a good patient."

"Come dear," Dr. Livingston would say. "I'll clear up that melancholia in no time. It's not severe enough for the special treatment."

Then the doctor would have them naked and moaning from the treatment. Imagining it wasn't the probe down there but the pretty nurse standing there at her side.

But not the old spinsters. The old widowers had plenty of money. What they didn't have was a pretty young thing willing to get down on her knees. Willing to endure the ultimate submission.

But money, money they had in spades.

"I want the special," they'd say and hand over their money.

"Get to it girl. On your knees. It isn't going to milk itself you know." Dr. Livingston would say.

"Yes ma'am," and Cindy would go down on her knees and give the patient her special treatment.

And Cindy would rather not do that disgusting duty. Would rather not feel those old bony fingers run through her hair, cooing..such a good nurse...such a sweet tongue. At least they were nice. Not like that bitch. Besides it was treatment for Cindy, just as much as they did.

She needed the tonic.

And it did seem to make her feel better. Tingly. It even made her forget for a time that the cruel bitch Eustice Smith had taken her husband from her. Had stolen him.

Thank God the tingling had returned. Cindy's nipples had hardened into tiny knots of desire. Her sex contracted with the gentle buzz of the doctor's probe. Cindy stole a glimpse at the audience of men staring at her. So hungry. Licking their lips. Dear Lord, just like all those old beady-eyed women.

A gasp escaped the young woman's lips at the thought.

Dr. Livingston smiled as Cindy's body began to react to her ministrations. She watched the young woman battle valiantly against her body's reactions. Watched the way Cindy tried to keep the serene smile plastered across her face. The doctor turned her probe up to four and danced it across the young woman's erect clit. Around and around the stalky appendage.

Cindy moaned deep in her throat. Her thighs tensed. The mouth of her sex contracted. It was all she could do to keep her feet in the stirrups. Her concentration so great the smile disappeared. She bit her lower lip.

"You're doing fine Miss Johnson" Dr. Livingston assured the young woman. "I'm just going to change probes now."

Cindy cringed as she recognized the probe the doctor attached to the wire. It was round, but thicker. There was spring at the end. Oh God. Not that!

Dr. Livingston smiled back into those blue begging eyes. She licked her lips. She knew what was going on in that pretty little head even as she inserted the new probe and released the catch.

The stretcher.

That was Dr. Livingston's nickname for it. Once released, the spring attempted to force the two sides of the inserted probe apart. Only Cindy's muscle's held them together. But tension from the spring was rapidly tiring those muscles. And as the probe went in and out, those muscles began to tire.

Then the shock came.

And those muscles tightened again, whether they wanted to or not.

On and on it went. Tightening....loosening....loosening...tightening. And Cindy could feel other changes as well. Her chest becoming flushed. Her nipples hard ...almost painfully so. And her cunt. Tightening...loosening...until finally other muscles stepped into the fray. Muscles inside her loins that toned and tightened, yet instead of locking down on the intruder, they held her hole open. And though she was open, she felt so tight inside. So uncomfortably tight. And she felt that certain feeling...like she desperately needed to pee. Yet she had just peed. And she was moaning...grunting...groaning...and no matter what she did, her face was determined to grimace. Then she felt the warming. The lightning begin to dance.

No. Oh God no!

"I will remove the probe now," Dr. Livingston said. "So there can be no tricks. The patient's melancholia gland had been thoroughly stimulated. And now..."

With that the doctor danced a finger over Cindy's engorged clit.

Unghhh! Cindy moaned and her legs pumped into the air. And then she gushed. Like a geyser releasing it's load onto the wooden stage.

Then the doctor rubbed Cindy's clit vigorously, shooting load after load of girl nectar on the stage, till finally she was emptied. It was hard going for Cindy. Yes, it was pleasure, but it was almost too much pleasure for her small slim body. It made her buck and writhe. Her legs alternately closing and opening to try to end the vigorous stimulation. Until finally...finally ... it was over.

"I have sufficiently stimulated her melancholia and removed the bad humours doctors," Dr. Livingston said as she handed Cindy a small gown.

"Notice how calm she is?" Dr. Livingston asked the quiet auditorium. "See how all the worry has left the patient's eyes. To Cindy: "How do you feel dear?"

"Very good doctor...." Cindy's mind wandered back to the day Dr. Livingston told her she didn't need to go back to Mrs. Smith...that she could live with her permanently. And her precious lips turned up into a smile and her eyes beamed with pleasure. "Like a million bucks."

"A million bucks doctors," Dr. Livingston said. "Who here can afford not to have such a treatment? Who here won't have this miraculous device if another doctor in town has one? Nine hundred dollars. It pays for itself in no time at all."

No one budged. The first time Dr. Livingston wondered if she had miscalculated, but she knew what was going on in their little doctor heads now. They were waiting till after...perhaps the other doctors wouldn't get the device and then they could inquire about it later. Get a reduced price.

Well, now she had their number.

"There is only a limited quantity," Dr. Livingston finished.

And then the rush was on. Even old doctors with canes rushed to the front, beating out their younger nimbler rivals. At the end of the day Dr. Livingston was thirty five thousand dollars richer. And though business eventually was not as lucrative, as others learned to make her devices much cheaper. She still became quite rich...and Cindy enjoyed these riches too.

And those women who could afford it...or had husbands who could afford it, gained pleasure from Dr. Livingston's new cure for melancholia.

The End.

***

author's note: While not a true story, it is based on fact. During this time period, doctors routinely prescribed stimulation by such devices as cures for all sorts of maladies. And in truth, it was probably far better than other cures like mercury and leaches.



A Cure For Mondayitis



Ryan Matthews walked into his office and was immediately struck with a severe case of Mondayitis. He placed his suitcase on the green couch which was placed against the left wall of his office, pulled a file out of it which he put back in its place in the filling cabinet on the right hand wall, before trudging over to his desk. With a sigh he sat down and pulled the monthly report in front of him and started up his computer.

As the local manager for Essam Reality, a nation wide real estate agency, Ryan's life had become one monotonous blur. It seemed he was always at the office, and when he wasn't he was at home, going over files and accounts, doing chase up work with clients and liaising head office which was in a different time zone. Marking the first of the month, today he would spend the entire day analysing the report he had been given, calling people into his office to check figures, before pushing it off to head office for review. He resigned himself to the inevitable and focussed himself on the task at hand. 

Ryan had not been at it very long when there was a sharp knock at the door

'Ryan?' a female voice came from the doorway.

'Mmm?' Ryan replied, looking up from his report.

His most senior sales manager marched into his office like a woman on a mission. She was in her mid-forties, her short blonde hair cut in a neat bob and frozen in place by what he could only assume was the entire contents of a hairspray can. She wore the green company jacket over a crisp white blouse, a matching green knee-length skirt and black stockings covering her legs. 

'This is the second Monday in a row she's been late,' Julie said, cutting straight to the point. 'You're going to have to say something to her.'

Ryan sighed. Julie considered herself to be in charge of the other staff, having been with the company the longest, even long then he had been. Being considerably older then him also, she considered her input to be of the utmost benefit of the successful running of the company. While Ryan valued her opinion, he wished she wouldn't give it out so frequently.

'I assume your talking about Katie?'

'She can't just turn up when she feels like it. She was ten minutes late on Monday last week, and she was twenty minutes late this morning. It's becoming a habit.'

Katherine Nielsen was the newest member of the team, having joined the company only a month ago. Her application had been exemplary and so was offered the job as a clerk, filling in for the receptionist during lunch hours, assisting with rental applications and general office work. It wasn't a hard job, but it was a nine to five one. He frowned, concerned.

'Have you said anything to her?'

'I told her to straighten up and make sure she gets here on time last Monday, but obviously it went in one ear and out the other.'

'Alright, tell her to hang back after work and I'll have a word with her. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.'

He looked back down at his report, but was interrupted by Julie clearing her throat.

'Something else?' he queried.

'While you have her in with you, you might want to also discuss appropriate attire. The length of some of the skirts she wears is completely inappropriate for the office.'

'Thank you Julie,' he responded and returned to his report, his tone making it clear that she was to leave him alone now. For once it seemed to work, because when he looked up again she had gone.

It seemed the day had only just begun when he looked at the clock and saw it was five to five. Ryan removed his glasses and pinched the ridge of his nose, searching for the right words to say to Katie. She was a bright girl, friendly with clients and office staff, well mannered, and had enormous potential. He had interviewed her for the position, but hadn't seen very much of her since then. He tended to get inundated with phone calls, reports and complaints from the moment he entered the office until the moment he left. He settled on the usual "I'm paying you from nine to five" speech and checked his work schedule for the following day.

He was interrupted a short time later by a tentative knock at the door.

'Mr. Matthews? You wanted to see me?'

Katie was standing in the doorway, looking meekly in at him. He was amazed by how much more grown-up she looked then she had at the interview, only six weeks prior. His memory of her had been a young woman, dark hair tied back in a conservative ponytail, eyes hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses. Her white blouse had been freshly ironed, and her black skirt modestly ended below her knees. She conducted herself well throughout the interview and Ryan had welcomed her aboard enthusiastically.

The Katie who stood before him now was dazzling. Her hair hung freely down past her shoulders, shining even in the dim office lightning. Her eyes were no longer hidden by glasses, the brown orbs radiating warmth and eagerness to please. She wore the company green polo shirt, but it seemed to be a size too small for her ample breasts, as they seemed to strain at the material. Her black skirt fell several inches short of her knees, which were unclad by stockings, unlike most of the other female staff members. Her legs looked incredible, leading down to a pair of black high heels. She stood waiting for him to speak, her denim bag slung over her shoulder, ready to go home. 

Yes, Ryan thought, a good dressing-down is exactly what I'd like to give her. He then berated himself and pushed the idea firmly away. He dragged his eyes away from her body and looked her in the eyes.

'Yes I did. Come in Katie, take a seat.'

She nervously made her way into his office and sat on the chair opposite him, putting her bag on the floor next her and crossing her legs, which caused the skirt to rise up another inch. Ryan readjusted himself and told himself to behave. At nineteen the girl was over ten years his junior, but his stiffening cock didn't seem to care. He cleared his throat and tried to remember the speech he had planned out.

'Mr. Matthews,' Katie intervened. 'I'm sorry I've been late the last couple of Mondays. I'm studying externally at SAU, part-time of course, and the weekend is when I get most of my course work done. It's coming up to the end of term, so I've got assignments due, and I've been staying up later then I should to try and get them finished. Come Monday morning I'm racing around because I've overslept. I'm really sorry Mr. Matthews, I know it's inexcusable, and you should definitely dock my pay for the times I have been late. I do work during my lunch breaks to try to make up for my lateness, but I understand that it's not the same. I promise I won't be late again.'

It had all flowed like a well-rehearsed speech, one that she had been agonising over for some time. She had taken responsibility for her actions, was looking at him with such sincerity that he felt bad that he had been planning to tell her off. He sighed. 

'Just don't make a habit of it, okay Katie? You're a brilliant young woman. I'd hate to lose you.'

Katie smiled sweetly at him.

'Thank you, Mr. Matthews. I won't let you down.'

They both stood up and he escorted her to the car park, locking up behind him. He looked around as they walked, trying to keep his eyes off her firm arse and smooth legs, but they always ended up back there. 

'So,' he said, searching for some small talk. 'Are you going out tonight, or straight home?'

'Straight home I'm afraid. I've got a five thousand word essay due on Thursday that I've got to get finished.'

'Working all day and studying all night? You must have a very understanding boyfriend.'

'No, no boyfriend. Guys my age don't interest me much. I prefer men with a bit more maturity.'

He stopped just as they reached her car and tried not to think too much about what she had just said, but he couldn't help noticing the way she blushed as she fumbled for her keys.

'Thanks for walking me to my car, Mr. Matthews,' she said as she got in her car. 'See you tomorrow.'

Ryan watched as Katie pulled out of the company car park and gave him a little wave as she drove off. 

Oh dear, Ryan thought as he walked to his own car, not good.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ryan paid much closer attention to Katie over the next few days. She arrived early each morning, and greeted him with a special smile which had him ducking behind objects to hide his arousal. He was glad he had forgotten to speak to her about her skirt, as watching it slide up and down her legs throughout the day was a pleasant distraction from the mind numbing repetitiveness of his job. 

Julie seemed in high spirits after he had taken her advice and spoken to Katie, as if his taking her advice further assured herself of her own importance. She made a point however looking inauspiciously at Katie's skirt whenever he was around, in a kind of stage whisper to him. Ryan tactfully chose to ignore her. He found that not only was Katie a beauty, but a brain as well. She was articulate, well read, imaginative and inventive. She single-handedly reorganised the filing archive filing into a coherent system, while assisting the other staff members in any way she could. The customers seemed to love her too, and she would happily chat with them and see to their needs while she was on reception, keeping them engaged and satisfied while they waited for their appointments.

It was with great surprise therefore that on Friday of that week he walked out of his office to find Katie crying her heart out, being consoled by the female staff members while Ryan's lead property manager had a rather loud diplomatic conversation with someone on the phone. He was heartbroken to see her so vulnerable and made his way over to the group as she started to calm down and wipe away the tears.

'Katie, can I see you for a minute?' he asked. 

He walked back to his office and stood by the door as Katie gave the group a watery smile of gratitude and walked inside. He closed the door behind her and got her to sit on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, keeping a much distance between them as he could.

'What happened?'

'I'm sorry Mr. Matthews. I was on reception and I took a call from a client. He was ... well he was unhappy about the offer he got on his house. Very unhappy. He seemed to think it was our fault, that we were pushing for a quick sale just so we would get our commission. He got a bit abusive...'

She started to tear up again and Ryan sat watching for a moment, trying to fight down his natural urges to comfort her. He slide over a bit and put his hand on her shoulder. 

'It's okay,' he said, patting her on the shoulder in what he hoped would be construed as nothing more than a friend comforting another friend.

Katie gave a sudden sob and turned into him, pressing her head against his chest. He resisted touching her further until she started to cry in earnest. He cradled her in his arms and gently rocked her.

'Shhh,' he soothed. 'It's okay. Just let it all out.'

He waited patiently as Katie got herself under control, enjoying the sensation of her being pressed up against him. Her hands had slipped onto his leg and the gentle rocking was causing her hands to slide up and down his thigh. The perfume of her hair was intoxicating and he found himself closing his eyes and allowing himself to be in the moment.

'Your heart is beating really fast,' Katie said with a slight giggle. 

She looked up at him from beneath his arms, straight into his eyes. The tears were gone, but her face was still flushed. She shyly looked away from him and he hastily let her go. She remained nuzzled up against his chest and looked back up at him. 

'Mr. Matthews,' she whispered, and Ryan felt his cock swell in response.

'Thank you,' she murmured, as she stretched up and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and gentle, as if unsure of herself. Ryan groaned and took hold of her once more, tangling his hands in her hair as he urged the kiss into something more passionate. Katie readily responded, as if she had been waiting just as long for this moment as he had. He removed one hand from her hair and brushed it along her side, tracing the contours of her body. Katie in turn slipped her hand further up his leg until she reached his cock.

Ryan broke away from the kiss and gasped as Katie unzipped his trousers and felt her way around to under his briefs. She pulled his cock out through the opening and lent over. Grasping it firmly in her hand, she gently tentatively licked the head. Ryan groaned his approval, and Katie continued to lavish his cock with her tongue, flicking it over the tip before continuing with long sweeping stokes over his shaft.

'Oh Katie,' he groaned, placing his hand on the back of her head and gently pushing it down, trying to get her to take it into her mouth. 

Katie complied and he felt his cock slide into her waiting mouth. He bit his lower lip in an attempt to keep from moaning too loudly. Katie was relentless. Her head bobbed up and down enthusiastically, her tongue continuing to caress his cock as it slid in and out of her mouth. He bucked his hips up wildly to meet her, and felt her gag as he ploughed too deeply for her to handle. He held back, but felt her urging herself to take him deeper and deeper into her throat in response to his bucking. He knew he wouldn't last much longer at this rate and was about to tell her so when there was a knock at the door. 

Katie and Ryan separated like a shot, Ryan dashing to his chair and Katie to the one opposite him. He straightened his tie and smoothed over his hair, and saw Katie doing the same. She looked extremely red in the face and her eyes were red and teary once more, Ryan immediately regretting being so rough with her. From an outside perspective though it would simply look like she had started crying again from recanting what had happened. He took a deep breath to compose himself and hoped he didn't look too red in the face.

'Yes,' he said, trying to keep his voice even. He looked down in time to realise he had forgotten to zip up his fly, his still raging cock sticking out of it. He pushed his chair further under the desk to hide it is as Paul opened the door.

'Sorry to bother you, Ryan. I've got Mr. Dennings on the line, the client who Katie was talking to earlier,' he added giving Katie a sympathetic smile. 'He's insisting to speak to you.'

'Okay Paul, put him through.'

Paul hastened back to his desk and Katie got up and followed him. Once she had made it to the door, Ryan called out to her.

'I hope you learned something from the experience, Katie,' he said carefully. 'And just remember that you don't have to take that kind of thing unless you're okay with it.'

Katie gave him her special smile and walked away, leaving him to deal with a very angry client, and Mr. Dennings too. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a very long weekend, during which Ryan had thought of nothing but returning to work to see Katie, it was finally Monday. She had left dead-on five Friday afternoon, so he hadn't had an opportunity to talk to her about what happened. He arrived at the office at half past eight to open up, and awaited Katie's arrival.

At half past nine he was interrupted by Julie tapping on his door and letting herself in.

'Ten minutes late and she's wearing the shortest skirt yet,' Julie snapped indignantly. 'Obviously your little chat with her last week didn't do any good. She should be sent home to change into something decent.'

Ryan's cock stirred to life, safely hidden by the confines of his desk. 

'You're right Julie,' he said, nodding in a serious manner. 'Obviously I wasn't hard enough on her the last time.' 

He suppressed a smile as he thought about how much harder he'd be the second time around.

'Tell her to hang back again at five. If she's going to take some of my time, I'll take some of hers.

Julie nodded approvingly and Ryan followed her out of his office to steal a peak of the offending skirt. He found her at one of the filling cabinets, sorting through some paperwork. Today she was wearing a silky green blouse which hugged her bountiful breasts, and her black skirt only came halfway down her incredible thighs. She gave him a dazzling smile when she spotted him and quickly checked around to make sure no one was watching. She then turned her back to him and slowly bent over to open the bottom draw of the cabinet. 

Ryan groaned softly as more of her legs became visible as she lent over. Finally she stopped and he caught a glimpse of lacy black material hiding beneath her skirt. Ryan stood frozen, not trust him to make a single movement for fear it would lead him straight to her. Almost as soon as she had bent over however, she was upright again. A file clutched firmly in hand, she walked back to her desk without a second look in his direction. Ryan quickly returned to his office and hoped the day would fly by.

At five to five Ryan received an expected visit from John Michaels, and old friend from school. He asked Julie to get Katie to wait for him in his office while he talked to Michael in the reception area, trying desperately to get rid of him. Unfortunately John wasn't making it easy. He was looking to buy, and since he had been friends with Ryan at school, he expected the VIP treatment. Ryan watched as one by one the staff members left, Julie giving him a nod on the way out as an indication that she had done as he asked, and that Katie was now waiting for him in his office. Finally at ten past five he was able to get rid of John, after promising him a meeting on Wednesday and he locked the office door behind him as he left. He did his best to calm himself and not get his hopes up as he walked back to his office. Once in the doorway however, it seemed he was in luck.

Katie was sitting on his desk waiting for him, her skirt hiked up high on her thighs to allow her to have her legs slightly parted. The top two buttons of her silken blouse were undone, revealing the black lace of her bra. She smiled at him coyly. 

'You wanted to see me, Mr. Matthews,' she said, blushing slightly as she spoke.

Ryan groaned, her demeanour turning him on as much as her body was. He stood his ground, determined to have his say first.

'Katie, something has to be done about you,' he said, trying to put as much authority into his words as possible. It seemed hollow as he cock was making his trousers into a tepee, but he continued regardless.

'Your skirts are not an appropriate length for work,' he continued, gazing at her unclad legs. 'Someone else might see something they shouldn't.'

Katie smiled and blushed.

'I see your point,' she conceded.

'So from now on, can you please wear skirts of an appropriate length, or trousers, while in the office?'

'Of course, Mr. Matthews.'

Ryan let out a sigh of relief as he prepared to move onto the next issue. He was, however, interrupted by Katie

'So, since this length is inappropriate,' she continued, standing up as she spoke. 'I shouldn't wear it in the office?'

She reached behind herself, unzipped the skirt and shimmied it down her long legs, stepping out of it when it reached the floor. 

She was wearing the tiniest pair of panties Ryan had ever seen. Black lace and sheer black material barely covered her shaved pussy. Her legs, uninterrupted by clothes, looked longer that he had ever seen them, her three inch black heels adding to the effect. Ryan stared brazenly at her legs, finding it incredibly sexy that she was now blushing uncontrollably in response to his unwavering gaze.

'You know that blouse is rather inappropriate too,' he said with a grin.

Breaking to a grin of her own, Katie undid the remaining buttons and slid the blouse from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. The black lacy bra was as small as her panties had been, barely containing her heaving breasts which rose and fell deliciously with each breath she took. 




A Cure For Mondayitis



'Much better,' he murmured as he closed the distance between them and took her into his arms. His mouth devoured hers as he lifted her back onto the desk, her legs wrapping around his back and ass, clinging him to her. She groaned with rapture as his lips moved down to caress her neck, where he proceeded to lick, suck and nibble her soft skin.

While continuing to lavish her skin with his mouth, he carefully reached around and unhooked her bra, pulling away from her so that he could take it off her. He ground his cock against her as he took in the sight of her creamy white breasts, each adorned with a pale pink nipple which stood erect, begging to be sucked. He licked his lips and lowered his mouth to the closest one.

Katie exploded in a loud moan which caused Ryan to shiver. He lightly nibbled and sucked, caressing the other one with one of his hands while the other reached between them to rub her pussy. She squealed with excitement as his fingers made their way under the panties to stroke her pussy lips. His fingers easily slid around her opening, well lubricated by her juices which were soaking her panties. He removed his hand and began tugging at his belt, tossing it to the floor once he had successfully unbuckled it. He stepped way from her, smiling at her moans of protest, and quickly took off his clothes and threw them out of the way before taking hold of her panties on either side of her legs and pulling them off in one swift downward motion. He raised them to his nose and deeply inhaled her heavenly scent, before tossing them to the side and lowering his lips to her pussy. 

She gasped and moaned as his tongue snaked its way into her opening, and he relished the feel of her beneath him. She tasted so sweet and smelt so good, he eagerly lapped up all she had to offer. Katie, breathing heavily, began humping his face, and he flicked his tongue over her exposed clit. She cried out in delight and started grinding harder against him.

'Oh yes,' she cried between breaths. 'Just like that. Uhhh don't stop. Oh yes, oh ... oh ... oh ... I'm gonna come, uh ...'

Her voice got higher and higher as she approached her climax and Ryan hastened her journey there. With one last flick of his tongue she shuttered beneath him, her hips slowing to a more controlled rhythm, riding out the aftermath, moaning incoherently. Ryan busied himself by lapping up the fresh juices until she had calm down. He leaned over her body and passionately kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips.

'Thank you,' she whispered. 'That was amazing.'

'I'm not done yet,' he said with a devious smile. 

He reached down between them and took hold of his cock, his hands becoming sticky with the pre-cum which had dripped from the head. Keeping a controlled grip on it, he gently brushed the head against her pussy lips and her opening, but not yet entering her. 

Katie made a unhappy murmuring sound and pushed herself down towards his cock, but Ryan pulled it back so that it just kept lightly teasing her, brushing it against her still extremely sensitive clit.

'Please ...' she whispered to him. 'Please.'

'Mmm? Please what Katie?' he asked her, struggling with himself not to simply plough straight into her and pound her like a jackhammer.

'Please fuck me... I want you... I want it right now.'

Hearing his sweet Katie use such language caused him to suppress a moan.

'Is that so? Well if you want me to do that for you, there something I want you to do for me...'

'Yes ... anything ... I'll do it ... just please ...'

Ryan felt a fresh surge of pre-cum drip from his cock at the promise of anything. 

'Well now, there are a number of things I want from you right now Katie,' he said, continuing to tease her pussy with his cock. 'But firstly you broke a promise to me.'

Katie looked up at him, a look of confusing emerging from behind the mask of lust.

'You promised me you wouldn't be late again,' he chided her.

'But ... it was the only way I could see you after work ...' she protested.

'I know, but you have to promise me you won't do it again. We don't want people talking now, do we?' 

He punctuated his point by pushing just his head into her pussy, and quickly pulling it out again. Katie gasped and tried to push it back in again, but Ryan refused to give it to her. He lent over and touched his lips to her ear.

'Promise me Katie,' he whispered to her, adding a groan at the end and taking her earlobe into his mouth and slowly sucking on it.

'I promise,' she groaned and pressed down on his cock one more.

Unable to keep from fucking her anymore, he took his hand away and drove his cock straight into her pussy.

He groaned at the feel of her tight pussy as he slid out almost fully before ramming back into her. Katie started panting as she reached up and pulled him towards her chest. He leant over and started eagerly sucking her other breast while slowly increasing his tempo. Katie let out a squeal of delight and immediately started to thrash around in the throws of her second orgasm, her pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to remain still. It was long however before she took his head in her hands and guided his mouth to hers. 

He slipped his tongue into her mouth and kissed her passionately as he began to pound into her once more. Breaking away from the kiss, he firmly took hold of Katie by the hips and slammed into her, over and over again. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her, her heavy breathing and sultry moans music to his ears. He felt the familiar tingling in his balls and his breath became rapid.

'I'm gonna come... Katie?'

But Katie was lost in her own world of pleasure. Not wanting to make that call for her, he swiftly pulled out and grasped his rigid cock. He pumped it twice in quick succession and shot his load on Katie with a gasp. The first spurt landed on her chin and neck, the second between her breast, and the last over her stomach as he leaned forward over her. He reached down and rubbed Katie's clit frantically and before long heard her cum again.

Katie looked up at him with smile and trailed her fingers in his now cooling cum. Looking him deep in the eyes, she raised her fingers to her lips and slowly sucked them clean. 

Ryan felt his spend cock twitch at the sight and smiled to himself. Mondays had suddenly become so much more enjoyable.

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Thank you for reading A Cure for Mondayitis. I am currently working on a few other pieces, so if you would like to see more of my work, please vote or comment. Thank to everyone for your wonderful comments, your support is very much appreciated.



A Cure for Moonlight



It wasn't that Stella was shy, anti-social, agoraphobic or just weird. Quite the opposite, she loved being outside, she loved the smells of the forest, the sounds of a city. She wasn't aiming to be a hermit, she simply couldn't go out in the day. Since she was a tiny girl, she's had an allergy to sunlight. She remembers attempting to sneak outside once without being covered head to toe and within seconds, her skin blistered like the surface of boiling water, he mother ran screaming out after her, snatching her up and whisking her back in. Both of them were covered in welts, bubbles and sores for what felt like weeks after. Her mother, now dead, was an Albino. Stella only inherited her mother's allergy to the sun. Her skin is nearly as milky as she remembers her Mom's. Her hair is a deep auburn, she always imagined it would have streaks in the Summer as her father's did in the pictures. Oddly it's one of the few things that bothers her about being pinned up during the daylight.

She thought about the pictures of her father with his sun streaked hair and sighed. Stretching back in her chair, she rolled her neck and got up. Daydreaming was a sign she needed a break. She had been editing a manuscript since noon and it was now nearly six in the evening. Being December, it should be dark enough for her to venture from her cave, as she thought of her apartment. She slipped on her new shoes, royal blue ballet flats with peacock feathers up the sides. Wiggling her toes and giving one more happy glance at them, she pulled on her coat, grabbed her keys and shut the door behind her. Nearly every evening felt like a gift, or a release from a prison. She stood for a second and breathed in the crisp air before letting her feet begin leading her out into the world. The moon was full and she remembered what her mother said. "Moon light is a magical gift, and can show you things you'd never see by the light of day, if you let it," she smiled wistfully and felt a little pang of homesickness for the cottage she grew up in.

Walking along the sidewalk, she found herself heading to Louie's, a quaint little corner wine bar and coffee shop. There was live music tonight, a whimsical looking girl with a harp. She didn't play like an angel though, her deft fingers plucked the strings like a devil possessed her hands and it was like nothing Stella had ever heard before. She ordered a latte and unwound her scarf as she sat in her usual spot, a mosaic table in the corner by the window. She let the coffee warm her hands and she tried to what it would be like to be here in the sun. She always did that while she was out, imagined how things would appear in the full light of the day. She noticed the owner, Joe, heading towards her with his own drink, apron thrown over his shoulder, he looked like he was ready to be off his feet.

"She's good, isn't she?" he asked, indicating the frenetic harpist.

"I never imagine something this funky coming from an instrument like that," Stella agreed, pushing the other chair with her foot.

"I was skeptical, when she asked if she could play," he grinned, sitting down.

He smiled crookedly and pretended to watch the act, but Stella knew he was watching her reflection more. Since his father, Old Louie, died, Joe seemed to pull inwards with everyone. He only recently started opening up to her. He really liked the way her hair always seemed to be just the perfect amount of unruly and her smile was brighter and a 150 watt bulb. He noticed how she crinkled her nose while she was trying new additions to the menu, whether she liked them or not. She had only one slightly crooked tooth and once you noticed it, you could adore how flawlessly flawed she is. He looked down quickly when he caught her, catching him staring in the glass of the window. He felt himself blush as she down the last of her coffee and made to get up. 

"They are, uhhh," he started as she slipped her jacket back on, "having a performance in the park tomorrow night."

"I wish I could," she noticed how his hands had started nervously trembling slightly, "I'm on a deadline with this proofreading, maybe another time?"

"Yeah," he felt his face fall with his mood, "Sure, I'll keep an eye on it and maybe next time you're free."

"That sounds fun," she said, but she knew she couldn't ever see a play in the park. She'd burn so badly.

Smiling at him one last time, she walked out the door and felt the air blast her in the face with an icy gust. Winter was great because the nights were longer, and came earlier, but they were so cold. Pulling her scarf higher and her collar up, she leaned into the gusts. Her ears were aching from the chill and her nose had started to run. She was a little bummed that Joe hadn't really given her any time to enjoy the warmth before asking her out. She knew it was coming, he had been testing the waters for over a week now. She wondered if she'd ever feel normal. She window shopped for a while, refusing to give into the frigid temperatures, she sought a quick respite in a new gallery that had just opened. Stopping to consider a piece of a woman on fire, she felt oddly angry at her pained face, the piece felt familiar and upsetting, and then she realized. The woman's ivory skin contrasting against the flames and the darkness, her pink eyes and white hair, the grimace of agony she wore... it was the face of her mother. She had a scowl scarred on her face from the sun, burn scars that would stay with her for the rest of her life. 

As she stood, transfixed on the canvas she thought about the group of boys who had tore the protective shawl her mother had worn around her head and knocked her sunglasses off. They crushed them under their shoes and laughed as her Mom blistered and turned an angry, hot shade of red. Before they could think to grab little Stella, she did. She carried her in her arms ran as fast as she could to the car, but the blisters and seepage from her burns were stuck to her daughter's covering. Refusing to pull the protection off, even for a second, she braced herself and ripped the fabric away, taking some of her with it. She should have gone straight to the hospital, but she instead took her precious little girl to her best friend's house, Viola, and disappeared for nearly 2 weeks. When Stella saw her again, her face was scarred and shiny and she was marked with the look of pain she wore while saving her baby.

Blinking and rousing herself from her daze, Stella started to turn away, but something pulled her back to that painting. She studied the face again. It was her mother. The long, white hair flying around her with the heat of the flames, the necklace danging against her chest, even the narrow nose and full lips. Her feelings ran crazy, from deep sadness, to anger, to wanting answers. She mourned the beauty that her mother had been. Then she began to wonder, why were her eyes pink? Only Stella had ever seen the color of her natural eyes. She always, even around Viola, wore colored contact lenses. 

She felt her hands shaking and her insides trembling. She felt heat rising up the back of her neck and she felt disgusted. Her feet found the pavement outside before she even realized she was going anywhere. Concentrating on her breath and the stars in the sky, the sound of people and cars, she tried to distract herself from the image of her Mother burning she rubbed the back of her wrist, feeling the slight texture of her own sun scars. She wanted to think about anything but that. She almost felt like she was being watched, but she thought it was probably just because she must have mad a fool of herself in the gallery. A loose curls had blown loose from the bun she was wearing, and waved in front of her eyes every time she was hit by a bluster of air. 

In her own world, she realized she had probably walked too far. Completely distracted by the night's events with Joe and the gallery, she was broken from her little universe by a scuffle and yelling down the alley to her left. Instantly back to the day her Mom was accosted by youths, she felt her rage flare, and she, without hesitation or though, plunged down the narrow path. She quickly glided around boxes and trash until she saw a woman, on the ground and bound and the man with her at knifepoint. Having no tolerance for bullies, and her cup of self control running empty, she called out, with a surprising amount of calm and control.

"I called the police about four minutes ago. I'm only telling you now because I didn't feel gracious enough to give you a head start," she stared at the muggers with all the steel she ever had.

"When we see you next time, you pasty little bitch, we're going to rip you from one end to the next, so keep an eye open, because after tonight, we will be coming for you," one of the attackers hissed.

Waiting until they were completely gone, and a regular siren sounded somewhere close, she walked over to the hog tied woman and put her hands on the man's. He pulled away and watched as Stella made quick work of the knots The couple was shaking so hard, they could barely walk. Her hands were steady and strong and she felt like, all of a sudden, she could take on the world. She smiled as they thanked her, told them to go to the police, and gave them her number. They clutched each other like terrified children and walked quickly away. She felt numb, strong, almost invincible. The whole walk home, something beyond the night's events nagged and tugged at the edge of her mind. She felt safe, even after the threat and the mugging, even though she knew she had probably put herself in danger. This night had eyes, and she knew they were watching her. 

Climbing the stairs to her place, she felt weary and ready for a hot shower and a quite night. Locking the door behind her, she left a trail of clothing in her wake. Shoes, kicked off by the door, coat flung over the back of her sofa, her shirt leaving a pool of purple silk, jeans strewn down the hallway and her camisole in the bathroom doorway. She turned the faucet on and took in the steam rolling off the water. She poured vanilla oil in, with some exotic smelling bubbles that she had grabbed at a bazaar. The smell was intoxicating and called to her. Stretching the night's excitement out of her muscles with a bit of yoga, lighting some handmade candles, she slowly eased herself into the water. She breathed in the creamy, spicy aroma and closed her eyes as the water enveloped her. 

She tried her hardest to completely soak the tension out of her, she still felt, not entirely alone. She refused to act as though she thought she was being watched. She wasn't afraid for some reason, but she was alert. She shaved under her arms, her legs, and figured she might as well keep going while the water is still hot. She tugged at the bit of fuzz she had down there and propped one leg on either side of the tub. Letting her head fall back against the bath pillow, she spread herself and was soon as smooth as silk. Tossing the razor into the small trash can, she left her other hand to wander. Enjoying the folds of skin down there, she slipped her other hand back into the water and spread herself so her button of flesh was completely exposed. Slowly working in tiny circles, she found she wasn't quite in the mood. She took a deep breath and tried to imagine something that would get her ready and to her surprise, she found herself picturing someone watching her from her balcony, through the open door. 

Getting into it, she slipped under the surface, and with the pressure of the water, the feeling of having to hold her breath, she found the pressure building, her pace increased just a little and she left her abs start to tense, her legs wanting to spread wider and her whole body turn electric and take on a mind of it's own. Forcing herself to stay under the surface, yet imagining someone watching just made it that much stronger and as she finished, she pushed herself up. Taking a deep breath, she felt center, hot and twitching, and she finally felt like she could go to bed. She stood up, rinsed off quickly under the shower, wrung her heavy hair out and dried off quickly. Braiding her hair, since it was wet, she found she was too exhausted all of a sudden to even put on lotion. She feel into her bed and enjoyed the moonlight on her breasts. 

As she fell asleep, she thought something was amiss, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She signed and snuggled in gazing at the stars. He nerves started to feel warm and tingly, and she drifted off into slumber. She dreamt of moonlight, and part of her dream self realized what was wrong. She never pulled back the curtains. She was allergic to the sun.