14 comments/ 38182 views/ 16 favorites Perfect Prescription By: KatieAnnBB I got an idea for a story about an "awakening" and decided to try it out. I'm concerned that it's going to take too long to get to the point for most guys. For what it's worth, though, I can testify that it got me going in spades to write it...by the time I was done, I was ready to have a go with little Miss Melissa myself. But since I'm sure she's not ready for sex with a woman, I hope some of the guys will be willing to pitch in and help her out. Enjoy! -------------------------------------------------- The small, nondescript woman stood nervously by her car, waiting for the attendant. It seemed as though he would never get there, and she was afraid that she would be late for her appointment. She shivered, partly from cold and partly from apprehension. She would never have made this appointment, except that she could no longer put off dealing with her...her problem. She pulled her nondescript coat a little tighter around her and shook her head. She felt like a condemned prisoner awaiting her execution. Finally the attendant arrived to take her $20. He handed her the parking ticket, said something in heavily accented English and zoomed away in her car. A quick glance at her phone revealed that she had a few minutes to spare. That was good, she thought, she needed a cigarette. It would help calm her down. She stood outside the medical building, a grey woman in a grey coat on a grey day. She got one of her trusty Newports and lit up, enjoying the deep relaxation of the first hit. Five minutes later, fortified, she headed up to the doctor's office. It was just out of the elevator on the 11th floor. She found the door with "Dr. Karen Trzetrzelewska, Gynecology and Obstetrics" on it, knocked gently and walked in. The receptionist smiled at her. "Good morning, I have an appointment for 8:30," she said softly, wanting to drop through the floor with shame. She was sure she would be the talk of the office staff by the time she was done. She could almost hear them smirking about her and her problem already. The receptionist looked up at the mousy woman standing before her. Her greasy hair was pulled back in an unimaginative way, and her drab clothing hung loosely over her sagging body. She was wearing no makeup, making her face look older than her actual age. "She looks so forlorn," she thought, "I hope the doctor can help her." The woman checked her list. "Certainly," she said warmly. "I can take you right back, Melissa. Dr. Karen is a little ahead of schedule this morning." The nurse smiled at Melissa as they walked back to the room. Just before she closed the door she said softly, "Don't worry, honey, Dr. Karen is wonderful and she'll take good care of you. I promise." Then she gently closed the door leaving Melissa alone with her thoughts. After changing, Melissa sat in the examination room, shivering in her paper robe, and dreading the arrival of the doctor. When the doctor knocked and walked in, the sound made her almost jump off the examining table. Dr. Karen smiled at her. "My goodness, Melissa, you seem a bit nervous this morning," she said, taking a seat and looking at the chart. Melissa fidgeted as the tall, older woman read the first few pages. "Yes. So I thought. All of your exams have been in order and you seem to be in good health," Dr. Karen began in her accented English, "so perhaps you will be good enough to tell me how I can help you today." So. The Moment of Truth had arrived. Melissa took a deep, shuddering breath and began. "Doctor, I have a...a problem..." her voice trailed off. She had practiced this speech in front of the mirror several times, but words would not come. Dr. Karen simply smiled and waited patiently. "Take your time, Melissa," she said softly. "I...I...my..." Melissa tried again, haltingly. Finally the words burst out, "I have a terrible itching in my...private area. I know that seems silly, but it's making me crazy. I get these terrible urges to scratch at all times of the day. Doctor, you have to make this stop." She finally stopped, a bit horrified that she had actually divulged her secret. Dr. Karen Trzetrzelewska had been practicing medicine for almost 40 years, first in her native Poland, still under Communist rule, then, after a harrowing cross-border escape, in the West. She had seen thousands of patients and had amassed great knowledge. More importantly, she had acquired wisdom and insight. She knew that this kind of problem was common and could have many causes. With women in their mid-30s, however, the psychological aspect could be critical. This was particularly true if they were not having regular relations. She knew that she could prescribe powerful drugs to deaden the nerves in Melissa's vulva, and she had even heard of extreme cases where the nerves were cut surgically. Although these treatments eliminated the itching, they left the patient unable to have a normal sexual life. She immediately ruled them out, and resolved to follow her own instincts. "Well, Melissa, we will address this, and I think we will solve the problem. Let's start with a brief exam, shall we? Just lay back and put your feet up as normal, please." The doctor made a brief but thorough exam, seeing exactly what she expected to see. "I don't think we need an internal examination today," she continued, "you can sit up again." The doctor asked Melissa many questions about various kinds of soaps and lotions she might be using, ruling out allergic reactions. Finally, she got to more difficult questions. "So. There seems to be no reason for an allergic cause. Let us examine further, " Dr. Karen said slowly, "So. Melissa, are you sexually active?" Melissa's eyes got huge and a horrified look came over her face. "Oh, Dr. Karen, do you mean...um...active with a man?" She shook her head vigorously. "No, I would never. I mean, I'm not married, so that would be...no...I don't...I mean...I never have. I swear." Then she thought she realized the import of the doctor's question. Melissa gasped and continued. "Oh my God, doctor. No. Absolutely not. There's no way that I could have any...any of those...those awful diseases..." she said firmly. Then a distressed look came over her. "Or is there?" she added meekly. Dr. Karen took another glance at the chart. Date of birth: May 27, 1977. Age: 35. She had seen how tense Melissa became at even the thought of sexual activity. And the physical exam. Of course. It all made sense. Now...what to do about it? The doctor considered the best course of action. Making her decision, Dr. Karen said softly, "Melissa, wait here just a moment. I'll be right back with a prescription for you, ok? I think I know how to clear this up. You may get dressed." Melissa smiled shyly and nodded. When the doctor returned, Melissa was fully dressed. "Ok," Dr. Karen began, showing Melissa a jar of cream. "This salve should clear up your problem in a few weeks, I think. The important thing, though, it that it must be properly applied." She looked directly at Melissa. "I repeat. The application is critical. You must follow my instructions exactly. Do you understand?" Melissa nodded meekly. "Good," continued the doctor. "Now. You will apply this three times in the day. First application will be when you wake in the morning. It will be best to do this before you get out of bed. Second time will be immediately when you arrive home from your work. What time is that? Six o'clock? Perfect. Final application will be just before you sleep, again best if you do this in bed. "I make you this chart, please look with me. First week: morning application, five minutes; 6:00 application, five minutes; bedtime application 10 minutes. Second week: 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes. Third week: 15, 15 and 30. Is this clear?" Again, Melissa nodded. "Now. Method of application. You should use your hands only—no implements or towels. Just your hand. For the first two weeks, you will massage the cream into the labia majora and the mons pubis. Do you know what this means?" Melissa shook her head. This was getting complicated. Dr. Karen took a small chart out of her drawer. It had a picture of the female genitalia on it. "So," she continued, "Massage here—outer labia," she instructed, putting a check mark with her pen, "and upward to here," she continued, circling the mons Veneris. "You should massage this area—the mons—firmly." Melissa again nodded, her attention fully focused. "For the third week, you will continue to massage this area, but will also spend time massaging the inner labia. Here," she explained, again making a mark on the diagram. Melissa nodded. "I understand, doctor. I'm pretty sure I can do this." "I'm sure you can, Melissa," the doctor said kindly, patting her arm. "Please call if you have any questions or problems. And we will make a follow-up appointment for three weeks to see how our treatment is working. Alright?" Melissa smiled and nodded, shaking the doctor's hand. She left and headed off to work, feeling like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. When she returned home that evening, she called and ordered some Chinese take-out. When she went into her bag to find her wallet, she saw the cream and her instruction sheet. She had some time before her food arrived so she figured that she'd get her task completed. She changed into her sweat suit, then went into the bathroom and carefully washed her hands. She arranged the instructions on the bathroom counter and pulled down her sweat pants, exposing herself. Taking a small amount of cream onto her fingers, she began gently massaging her labia on the right side. She had never touched herself "down there" except to wash, but since she was following the instructions of a health-care professional she felt comfortable. She began to notice that her massage was not entirely unpleasant. Encouraged, she got some more cream and moved to the labia on the left, with the same result. Finally, she took a third portion of cream and began to massage her mons. She felt her whole body relax as a wave of pleasure gently ran through her. With a start, she realized that five minutes had passed. She carefully tucked her materials into her vanity drawer, washed her hands and had her dinner. After a good dinner and some TV, Melissa found her thoughts turning toward her evening "treatment." Thinking that an early bedtime would be good, she headed into the bathroom and got her cream, placing it carefully on her bedside table. She carefully studied the diagram and refreshed her mind on the instructions. She set her phone for the 10-minute timer, climbed into bed and performed her massage, disappointed that her phone alarm went off so soon. She awoke the next morning feeling strangely alive, and with a new awareness of her body. She observed that she had foolishly forgotten to put her pants on after her massage the previous night. "Oh well," she thought philosophically, "I'd just be taking them off now anyway." The idea that she would be purposefully exposing her genitals in bed gave her a little thrill, and she immediately reached over for some cream and eagerly began her treatment. When her fingers began to stroke her labia, she felt a shiver run through her body. She also noticed that the labia were a bit puffy, as though slightly swollen. Concerned, she explored up onto her mons. No swelling there...perhaps a bit lower... "Ahh," she gasped aloud as her fingers slipped into her slit. She felt that she was filled with some slimy discharge. Abruptly stopping the massage, she ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. No sign of any problems, she thought, gingerly opening herself to inspect more thoroughly. For the first time in her life, she saw her clitoris erect and poking out from beneath its hood. She hopped into the shower and cleansed herself thoroughly, washing away all of the cream and the unwelcome discharge. When she exited the shower into the warm, steamy bathroom, she was surprised to find her nipples fiercely erect. They had only ever done that when she caught a chill... For some reason that morning, Melissa spent quite some time choosing her clothes. "How dreary everything looks," she thought. "You can afford some better looking things than these," she told herself. She chose a red V-neck sweater—one that she hadn't worn in years—and a pair of jeans that were just a little too tight. "Well," she thought philosophically, "at least they look like something on me. I can't bear to wear those baggy old things today." Carrying the clothes out to her bedroom, she rummaged in her dresser and found some lacy underpants, then chose a bra that gently supported her full breasts so they looked natural under the sweater. She hesitated. "I might jiggle a little in this," she thought, then giggled. "I don't care if my boobs bounce a little. At least I'll look like a woman," she mused, uncharacteristically. On a whim, she left her hair down. Fussing with it to get it right, she realized, "I need to get my hair cut. Goodness, I've really let myself go to pot lately." As she phoned for an appointment she noticed her lipstick lying on her dresser. "I haven't used that in ages...oh what the hell," she thought, chuckling to herself, "I might as well go the whole hog today," as she applied a whisper of lipstick. Riding the metro to work, Melissa looked around. She saw several men staring at her, and she realized that they were watching her boobs as they gently swayed under the sweater in rhythm with the rocking of the train. The attention embarrassed her slightly, but it also made her feel good. Affirmed, in a way. Powerful. "I could get used to this," she thought. Then she noticed an older man peeping over his newspaper, his gaze locked onto her swaying breasts. He looked like he was in a trance. "You sick little boy," she thought, "ogling a woman." She watched him as he stared at her breasts, oblivious to everything else around him. She had heard about what men did to themselves. It was disgusting. Nauseating. But... Her mind wandered and she imagined this man coming home from work and dropping his pants to...service himself. Thinking about the woman—no, the pair of breasts—surely he would call them "tits"—that he saw on the metro. She imagined what that he would look like with his...himself...in his hand...thinking about the...her tits...what would happen when he finally... "L'Enfant Plaza, transfer point for the blue and yellow lines. Exit on the left," came the voice over the loudspeaker, jarring her back to reality. Melissa rose and headed for the door of the car. She glanced at the trousers of the man who had been staring at her and was aghast to see a large bulge. In spite of her horror, she chuckled to herself, for the first time becoming aware of her power as a woman. "I hope he has a private office," she thought whimsically. The "ogling" of her breasts continued through the day. In reality, Melissa was getting brief glances of passing interest from men. But from having spent years as a virtual non-entity, even this minimal attention had her feeling like the Whore of Babylon. She continued to find it disconcerting and enjoyable at the same time. Over the next couple of days, though, Melissa adjusted to it and began to bask in the attention. As she did, she became a bit more forward in her manner. The men in her office seemed to love it, and she was quickly welcomed into the office banter in a way that she never had been before. As she left work one day, she knew that she needed a cigarette before the metro ride home, so she stopped outside the station for a smoke. She did, however, take care to position herself so that she'd be visible to the maximum number of passers-by. Finally satisfied, she took her Newports out of her bag and selected one, eagerly anticipating the first hit of the relaxing smoke into her body. As she fumbled for her lighter she heard a familiar voice. "Here, please permit me," said a kindly man's voice. Melissa looked around. It was Richard from the office. He was one of the supervisors and was well-liked for his kindness and competence. He had taken a lighter out and was offering her a light. Melissa delicately put her cigarette between her lips and allowed Richard to light it, gently placing her hand on his to steady the flame. She took a good-sized drag then exhaled slowly, enjoying the feeling of the nicotine rush. "Thank you very much," she said to Richard. "I didn't know there were men who would still light a lady's cigarette." He chuckled. "I know," he replied sheepishly tucking the lighter into his pocket, "it seems so old-fashioned nowadays, but...well...I know that you smoke and I've been wanting to find a way to say hello." Melissa was so startled that she almost dropped her cigarette, she recovered her composure enough to say, "Well, hello, then. And I do appreciate the gesture." Richard laughed. "You know," he continued, "you've always seemed so aloof at work, but the last week or so you seem to be more alive. I've always thought you had a very vibrant side to you." They chatted while Melissa smoked. Richard, it turned out, was a non-smoker who was just lurking trying to find an ice-breaker with her. "Trying not to seem like a stalker," he joked. "Well, I'm glad you finally caught up with me," Melissa said warmly, surprised that those words came out of her mouth. All too soon, she finished her cigarette and they parted, promising each other that they would have to meet for a drink after work one day. When she arrived home, Melissa's after-work treatment went amazingly well. She found that she was becoming quite skilled at caressing her labia, and had learned to hold off massaging her mons until the last few minutes. Once she began caressing herself in that area she found that she quickly lost focus. And of course she did not want to compromise the therapeutic benefit of her self-treatment. She could tell that she was making good progress. The itching was practically gone, and she was feeling better and more alive every day. She absolutely did not want to have a setback. She knew that she must be on guard against neglecting her instructions for a few moments of... Of what? Self-indulgence? Pleasure? Self-pleasure? She quickly put that thought out of her mind. When it came time for her bedtime therapy, though, she made a decision: her new bedtime routine would be to sleep naked. That would facilitate her night and morning massages, and besides it made her feel...what? Sexy? "Oh dear, Lord," she thought, "That's all I need...to become some kind of sex fiend." No, she decided after carefully thinking it through, this was a purely practical decision made solely to facilitate her therapeutic massages. "Doctor's orders," she reminded herself, taking some cream onto her fingers and beginning the now-familiar routine. She chuckled at herself as she began to caress her genitals, but found that she quickly drifted into another world. Her mind wandered to the man who had ogled her a few days ago on the metro. "What is he doing now?" she wondered. She knew. He was lying in bed like she was, with his...his...organ exposed. She was sure he had one of those disgusting erections like she had seen tenting his trousers. "He probably has his hand wrapped around it," she thought. She now imagined him with a group of men, surrounding her. They were all naked. Erect. As they pumped themselves, they grunted like animals, disgustingly ogling her body. Slavering over themselves in their lust. As her as her fingers glided up to her mons and she made circles around her most sensitive area, she imagined Richard pushing his way through the crowd. Of course he was the largest. He was magnificent. Taking complete charge of the situation he positioned himself near her face, shielding her from the view of everyone but him. Perfect Prescription Melissa smiled at her strong man, loving the sight of his maleness...his organ. No—why use childish terms? He was a grown man, and she was an adult woman. It was his penis. His cock. His dick. It was what he would use to fuck his woman. It was... Melissa stopped abruptly and looked at the clock. Was it really true that 30 minutes had elapsed? She was covered with sweat and was breathing heavily—and her genitals were pulsing with energy. Throbbing and alive, she felt that her pussy was almost singing. She rolled over and wished that Richard were there to cuddle her. Maybe even to... No. He was much too much of a gentleman to even contemplate doing that to a lady like her. She drifted off into a dream-filled sleep... A few days later, she found herself at Parlour 57 waiting for Meredith, her stylist. She thumbed absent-mindedly through the magazines, looking for an idea of how to change her hairstyle. Finally, Meredith invited her back. "Well?" she asked when Melissa was seated, "What are we doing today?" Melissa looked in the mirror at the young woman, sparking with energy, then at her own frumpy hairdo. "I want to look...sexy," she blurted out only half-realizing what she had said. As soon as it sank in, though, she couldn't believe that she had said the word "sexy" out loud. Horrified, she waited for her stylist to either laugh or to be shocked at her wantonness. Neither occurred. Meredith's eyes gleamed as she said, "That will be easy, Melissa, you have a lot to work with." She ran her hands through Melissa's hair, reminding herself of the texture and wave. "I think you'd be really cute if we go short. Are you ok with that?" she asked. Melissa nodded. "I'd also recommend some highlights and, a little wave—to perk things up and get some texture going," she said, fluffing Melissa's hair. "Multi-dimensional hair for a multi-dimensional woman...a little mystery along with the sizzle," she said lightly. She added, seriously, "That's going to add to the cost, though." Melissa replied instantly, "I don't care. I just want to look good. I'm tired of this non-descript mop up there." Meredith just nodded, understanding her feelings perfectly. "You're going to look amazing," she averred. Two hours later, Melissa looked at herself in the mirror and could not believe what she saw. Feathery bangs, perky and fluffy. A short style, accentuating her face—lighting up her personality, but with a hint of "still waters run deep." It was as though a person she only half-knew had emerged from hiding. "Well, what do you think?" asked Meredith. "It's...I'm...I can't believe it. It's wonderful...you are a miracle-worker," stammered Melissa feeling tears welling in her eyes. "I never would have believed that I could look this good." She impulsively reached out and hugged Meredith. When she put on her glasses, Melissa looked like a sexy intellectual. She couldn't believe her eyes. Neither could Meredith. "You look... Wow." said Meredith softly. "I knew there was a lot to work with but...wow." Their impressions were reinforced when they went up front. Everyone turned to look at Melissa. "I think I'm going to have to get used to being looked at," Melissa told herself, leaving a huge tip. By the end of the following morning's massage, Melissa's entire body felt like it was on fire. She ached for the touch of a man. "Hell," she thought as her phone beeped, "I'd settle for being able to touch myself longer." Now, though, the hairstyle, the make-up and a new wardrobe were beginning to yield dividends. She could tell how much more attention she was getting from men. Instead of making her coffee at home, she now headed to the neighborhood coffee shop, where she could sit outside and smoke while she had coffee. She had always been ashamed of her "filthy habit." She had taken up smoking in school, trying to be accepted by the cool girls. It had only got her partial acceptance, but she had enjoyed the sensation almost from her first puff, and never even considered quitting—she just carefully managed her indulgence, holding herself to three or four cigarettes a day. Now, though, she had begun to realize that some men were attracted by the sight of a woman smoking, and she was careful to show herself to best advantage whenever she lit up. This morning, the weather was good, so there were several businessmen sitting outside and enjoying their coffee. "Showtime," Melissa thought unashamedly, opening her purse with studied indifference and laying her cigarettes and lighter on the table. She knew to leave them there for a bit, so her "target audience" would have time to assemble. Sure enough, after a few seconds, she saw chairs being subtly adjusted to give the occupants the best possible view. She reached out and languidly extracted a cigarette, placing it between her lips and casually lighting it. Like Pavlov's dogs, she saw the boys responding in the expected way. As she finished her cigarette and prepared to leave, she felt powerful and aggressive. Like a lioness ready for the hunt. When she arrived at work, there was a non-stop barrage of compliments on her hairstyle. Finally, Richard came out of his corner office to see what the fuss was. When he saw Melissa, he just smiled and returned to his office. Shortly after lunch, though, he found Melissa outside, smoking, and walked over to her. "I didn't want to make a big deal of this in front of everyone," he said smiling, "but your hairdo is beautiful." When Melissa thanked him he continued, "I'd love to have a drink with you after work if you're free." Melissa thought her heart would explode out of her chest. "I'd like that very much, Richard," she said, smiling back at him. Richard knew a little, cozy bar not too far from the office, and they walked there after work, settling into a small table in the corner. He got a gin martini, and Melissa ordered her standard Sauvignon Blanc before the conversation got rolling. "You've come alive in the last couple of weeks, Melissa," Richard said, "I always thought you were—well, a lot more than you seemed to be. But honestly, you have a dazzling personality. You've become the life of the office. It's hard to believe. What happened?" Melissa took a sip of her wine and considered her answer. "I'm not really sure," she answered truthfully, "but one morning I just realized that I had gotten into a real rut. And I decided that life is too short...so I guess I decided that I'd better start living." "Well, then," said Richard, offering a toast, "to life." Melissa clinked her glass against his, thinking carefully about her next words. The decision was easy—to live or to continue as a non-entity? She looked directly into Richard's eyes as she added, "...and to love." She saw a look of raw desire come over him, and she realized that the power she had felt up to now was only the tip of the iceberg. She sensed that she could unleash a volcanic rush of energy that would be awesome in its beauty—or in its destructiveness. It was terrifying and thrilling—like a drug. For now, though, they just talked and the hours seemed to fly by. All too soon Richard had to leave, and he walked her to her car. "I'm sorry," Melissa said as she dug out her keys, "I feel like I've told you my whole life story. It must have been so boring." "It was beautiful. Just like you are," Richard assured her. He reached out gave her a hug, adding. "I can't wait to see you again. Would you be interested in having dinner together on Saturday?" Melissa wrapped her arms around him and hugged back. He felt so solid. "Oh God, yes," she replied. "Bless you for asking." He gave her a quick peck on the lips and they parted, both of them eagerly looking forward to what their next meeting would bring. When Melissa returned home, she couldn't get Richard out of her mind. She was now into the third week of therapy, and her massages were becoming quite intense events, leaving her somewhat breathless and keyed-up at the end. The itching had been gone for some time, but she was now in a near-constant state of sexual desire. It seemed silly to exchange an itching vulva for throbbing, perpetually swollen genitals, but she knew that she had changed for the better in many ways. She made dinner—just a small salad, since she was now watching her weight and working out—then she pretended to watch television for a few minutes. Who was she kidding? All she could think of was her therapy session. She strode purposefully to her bedroom, stripping off her clothes on the way. Grabbing the jar of cream, she tore back the covers and got into bed naked, saying, "Let's fucking do this." She began according to the instructions, slowly massaging the labia. Within a few moments though, she thought, "Fuck this," and moved up to her mons, rubbing firmly and with a purpose. As she circled her mons, she thought about Richard and what he would be doing if he were there. She knew that he would have his cock out and be stroking it for her, and she imagined it hovering, erect and swollen, just above her face. She could see his strong hand wrapped around it as he pumped himself. Melissa's fingers swirled and danced around her mons as her hips began to rotate. "Richard, I want to see you naked," she moaned, not missing a beat with her circling fingers. Her phone buzzed, indicating that massage time was over. "Motherfucker," Melissa muttered, grabbing her phone and silencing it. Her hand would not stop caressing her mons, and she was in no condition to resist the urges surging through her loins. She continued to think about Richard's naked body as she gazed at her phone. As she played with herself, she began to Google. First, "naked men." Thousands of images popped up and she browsed, enjoying them as she stimulated herself. Looking at a particularly majestic erection, she felt a surge of energy beginning to radiate outward from her genitals. Her hand became more insistent, circling lower, pressing a bit harder. "Ohh..." she groaned aloud as she typed in "naked cock." To her surprise another flood of images appeared. She decided to try "big naked cock" and was rewarded with images of mammoth male organs. The surges of energy were coming in waves, boiling up into her nipples and radiating down through her legs. Beyond rationality now, she returned to "big naked cock" and added the word "fucking" after it. As the images appeared, she groaned "fuck" out loud. She found one image of a huge man skewering a small, young woman. She focused on the united genitalia, imagining Richard and her fused together in that way. Suddenly, she realized that her hand was moving incredibly fast—looking down, she saw that it was almost a blur. She saw her legs shaking and twitching as though in some spastic dance. Then, suddenly, her back arched and her head snapped back as her vision went black. "I'm having a stroke," Melissa thought as a searing heat exploded through her brain. She tried to talk but couldn't—her body was shaking with uncontrollable convulsions. "I'm dying," she thought as she lost consciousness. A few minutes later, she awoke, feeling completely relaxed and slightly drowsy. Carefully taking stock of her body, she realized that she was still alive and everything was intact. She lay very still, scarcely daring to breathe. After a few more minutes, though, she began to feel normal again. She decided to try walking into the bathroom. Her legs were wobbly, but she made it and looked at herself in the mirror. Everything seemed ok. She took a long, hot shower, and that further relaxed and restored her. After was tucked back in bed, she wondered, "What the hell happened?" She saw her phone lying on the floor where she had dropped it. She picked it up and realized that she needed to delete the incrementing evidence. As she looked at the photo of the couple having sex, it dawned on her. "Oh my God," she thought, "was that an orgasm?" She had heard that they were supposed to be mind-blowing, but had dismissed all of that talk as hype. She had to grudgingly admit that her first experience was very much like the poetic descriptions, though. "No wonder women obsess about not having orgasms," she chuckled. "Well, I guess I don't have to worry about that," she mused, "I seem to able to do them just fine." All in all, the thought made her happy. She returned to bed and slept deeply and well until morning. It seemed as though Saturday would never arrive, but finally it did. Melissa spent all day shopping for the perfect outfit and even scheduled a return trip to Meredith for a styling. She spent a long time with her makeup and dressing, fussing for a long time trying to get everything perfect. At the end of it all, she actually had to scurry around to get ready on time, but she was at the curb right when Richard arrived. She opened the door of the BMW and said teasingly, "Hi, handsome, looking for a date?" Richard had on some luxurious jeans, a gorgeous Italian sweater and an elegantly casual jacket, and she did a double take. "Wow. You sure clean up well," she said, smiling. "You do too," he replied, flashing his perfect smile. "You look really nice, Melissa. Really, really nice." He took her to an Italian place where he was obviously a regular. The waiter brought a bottle of wine as soon as they sat down, asking, "Do you want the usual, sir, or would you care to see the wine list?" "Let's take a look at the wine list Antonino, this isn't an everyday occasion," Richard replied, gesturing toward Melissa. "Of course, sir," Antonino replied with a bow. Turning to Melissa, he said, "And welcome, madame, to our house. Please have a beautiful evening." Giving Richard a playful nudge he added, "In spite of the company you have." Melissa grinned. Encouraged, Antonino turned to Richard and teased, "How do you manage to have this "bella ragazza" come to dinner with you? Be honest, Richard, she is your cousin? Your sister, perhaps?" By now, Melissa was laughing out loud as Richard played along with Antonino's joking. By the time he returned with the wine list they were both laughing playfully. Their waiter had done a magnificent job of starting the evening off with a perfect atmosphere. Richard was obviously knowledgeable about wine and conferred carefully with Antonino about the wine and dinner selections. Melissa was not a gourmet, so she let Richard order for them. She could tell, though, by the gravity with which the bottle of wine was delivered and opened that it was something special. As the ruby liquid trilled into the glasses, she was captivated. She followed Richard's lead, swirling, sniffing and then tasting it. The experience was almost overwhelming and she stared at Richard. "That's unbelievable," she said softly. "It's delicious." He smiled broadly. "I'm so glad you enjoy it. It's a very special wine for a very special lady." The dinner was the best meal she had ever eaten. "I'm just sorry that I can't eat any more," she said when Antonino asked her if she wanted anything else. "Antonino, I will remember this meal all my life." For a moment, she thought that he might cry. He looked so moved. "And I will treasure that compliment, madame," he replied. Then he added to Richard, "She is much too good for you, but I hope that I will see you both here again very soon." After dinner, Richard suggested a walk along the river and they strolled the few blocks toward the waterfront. When they neared the water, he guided her over to the railing and they listened to the lapping of the waves as they watched boats float past. After a minute, he put his arm around her and pulled her to him. He felt her body become tense as he first touched her, but he quickly sensed that she relaxed as he held her. Finally, he said softly, "Melissa?" She looked up at him, "Yes?" Their eyes met, and in that moment she knew what he was going to do. "Oh God," she thought, "My first kiss. I hope I don't screw this up." And then his mouth closed over hers, and Melissa gave herself over to the moment. She felt as though she were levitating out of her body. Then she felt his tongue swirling around hers and she became light-headed. Between her after-work "therapy" and Richard's deep kiss, Melissa was almost in a state of delirium. She felt like she was a hummingbird—every atom of her body was vibrating as she floated in the air, hovering. Her knees wobbled a bit, but he held her firmly as their tongues danced together like two sticks being rubbed together to start a fire. As her arms encircled his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, Melissa realized that there was a huge pile of kindling stacked up. One spark could ignite a conflagration that would consume them both. She knew that she should be concerned and think rationally about this. His hands slipped down her back and gently gripped the upper part of her hips, pulling her pelvis more firmly against him. Melissa arched forward, aiding his efforts to grind their bodies together. Another kiss, this one more desperately yearning and urgent. Yes, she thought, she should think rationally about this. He was a good person...had a good job...seemed... He was now nuzzling his way down her neck. When he began to nibble on her earlobe, the dam burst. Melissa knew that she was going to have sex with Richard come hell or high water, and that she would have to trust to fate that all would be well. She was beyond thinking or caring about anything besides uniting her body with the handsome man who was caressing her. Richard finally pulled away a bit, breathing hard. "Missy," he whispered, "maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private. What do you think?" "I think we're going to get arrested unless we do," Melissa answered quickly. Richard chuckled. "Well, to use an old line...my place or yours?" he quipped. "Yours. It's closer," she sighed. As they drove, Richard stroked her thigh, further fanning the flames of desire that were beginning to burn brightly. Melissa stopped him. "Richard, darling, there's one thing I'd like to ask," she said. "Anything," he said sincerely. "Could you...don't take this wrong...but could you not call me Missy? My mother used to call me that and I never did like it." Richard quickly answered, "Sure thing, Melissa. I'm sorry, I just wanted to find a pet name for you." Melissa smiled. "Well," she said with a gleam in her eye, "I've always liked Lyssa, but never had the guts to use it." "Why?" asked Richard. "Lyssa was one of the Greek furies, I think," Melissa explained. "We read about it in school. She was something like the goddess of rage, passion and rabid animals, I think. I always envied that in a way." Richard smiled. "Well, I hope we can do without the rabies—and probably the rage too, but from my recent experience I'd say that the passion part works. Lyssa it is." As he pulled into his garage he added, "Would the goddess of passion like to come in and get comfortable?" He led her into a beautifully-furnished townhouse, guiding her into the sitting room, where he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply again. As their tongues resumed their fire-starting dance, she realized that the fire was already burning out of control. Richard paused from their kissing. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, unaware of the state, "maybe you'd like another glass of..." He looked into her eyes and stopped in mid-sentence. Her face was only inches from his, and her eyes burned with fierce desire. "The only fluids I'm going to need for the rest of the evening aren't found in bottles," she said in a husky voice. She knew that she was acting like a whore, but she couldn't stop herself. God help her, she was actually enjoying it. In any case, she had no more chance of resisting these feelings than of stopping a fire-storm. She was being consumed by urges and desires as old as humanity itself. Perfect Prescription Richard rested his hands on her waist, then slid them up her body to her breasts and began to massage them, gently pinching the nipples through her dress. He watched her eyes soften as the waves of desire began to take hold. In answer, she reached down, seeking to touch the organ she had so vividly fantasized about a few days earlier. He grunted when she found the mark. "I can see that Lyssa is living up to her name," he said thickly. Then their mouths were together again. As they kissed and groped each other, they began removing their clothes. Richard unzipped Lyssa's dress and she shrugged it off her shoulders, pushing it down so it slid to the floor. She grabbed his jacket and helped him pull it off, then reached down and lifted his sweater easily over his head. She repeated the motion to remove his undershirt and he stood bare-chested. He took her in another kiss, reaching around deftly with one hand to unhook her bra. By the time they parted, she her breasts were swaying before his eyes. He reached out and again grasped the erect nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Knowing that she was going to lose it soon, Lyssa began to unfasten his belt and undid his trousers. She dropped to her knees, pulling his pants and underpants down. Richard's cock sprang free and jutted out boldly, pointing directly at her face. Lyssa stared at it, hypnotized like a rabbit caught by a predator. Slowly she reached up and grasped it, marveling at the rigidity. She tentatively stroked it a few times, then reached her tongue out and gave the head an exploratory lick. Richard looked down at her and smiled, a bit puzzled as to how the wanton woman could so suddenly be transformed back into a shy schoolgirl. Lyssa cleared her throat. "I have a confession to make," she said softly. "Yes?" asked Richard, "What is it?" "I've...um...I've never done this before," Lyssa explained shyly, "so I think I'm going to need some coaching." She saw the look of wonder cross Richard's face, so she hastily added, "But I take instruction very well, and I'm a fast learner." Richard laughed out loud at that. He reached down and helped her to her feet, and held her in a long, close embrace. "Lyssa," he whispered in her ear, "I had no idea. I thought...well, let's just say that you seemed very self-confident. But..." he hesitated, "are you telling me that you're a virgin?" Impulsively, she kissed him. "Yes, my darling Richard. I'm a virgin. You are the sweetest man I've ever known, and I so want to do this with you. I couldn't have dreamed of anyone better for my first time," she said. "Well, my goddess of passion, I think we should go to my bedroom," Richard said. "Yes, master," Lyssa said with a hint of playfulness, "I will obey you implicitly." "Oh, this is going to be good," Richard teased. They both laughed. His bed was beautiful and the sheets were soft and inviting as he laid Lyssa down. He began kissing her mouth, then slowly worked his way down her neck, remembering how she had enjoyed his nibbling on her earlobes. "Oh God, Richard," Lyssa sighed, "that is driving me crazy." He didn't reply, but continued nibbling and nuzzling her neck as his hands roamed lower. Finally, he began to kiss her chest and breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue. He felt them harden and lengthen. Sucking one into his mouth, he gently pulled on it, encouraging it to grow more. Lyssa felt as though her nipples were directly connected to her genitals. Richard's suckling at her breasts was causing her pussy to throb as though she were giving herself one of her better massages. She was transfixed, unable to move as he began trailing kisses down her body, heading toward...there. She felt the light kisses trail down onto her labia, just as she began her massages...but oh, so much better. He continued to work downward, finding the opening. As he began to use his tongue, licking, Lyssa felt herself returning to the place she had been a few days previously. The fire burned brightly now, illuminating the path forward. She clearly saw her destination. "Oh God, Richard," she moaned, "No...no...I can't..." She looked down, and saw her legs doing the same spastic dance as before. There was no turning back now. Knowing that she had no choice, she gave in to the inevitable. Richard felt her hands grab his head with a furious strength. Undeterred, he licked her for all he was worth as Lyssa's back arched and her body shook with a powerful orgasm. Her moans and sighs reverberated through the room as she gave full voice to her passion. Finally, spent, she slumped back into the sheets. Richard wiped his face on the sheet before moving up to kiss her. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. He saw tears running down her face, and gently kissed them away. "I'm the luckiest woman in the world," Lyssa sighed. "Absolutely." They cuddled for a good long time, while Lyssa recovered herself. Finally she became aware of her surroundings again and felt Richard's penis, still erect, pressed against her leg. "One good turn deserves another," she whispered to Richard, "but I may not be as skilled as you." "Well," chucked Richard, "ya gotta learn sometime, right?" "No time like the present," Lyssa sighed, kissing his chest. She spent some time kissing and nibbling his nipples as she felt his erection, giving herself time to get used to the feel and weight of it. After a few moments she moved down and brought her mouth to the head of his massive cock. It seemed larger than any of the pictures she had seen. It was so...magnificent, she thought. She began licking up and down the shaft and down onto the balls. She was surprised to find that she enjoyed the smell and taste. Most of all, she enjoyed feeling the weight and firmness. Slightly intoxicated with the new sensations, she impulsively took the glans into her mouth and moved her head up and down. Now that was something! The feel of the cockhead sliding through her mouth was exciting, and combined with the musky, masculine taste it seemed the best thing she had ever experienced. "Sweetie, try sucking while you do that," gasped Richard. Lyssa looked at him for guidance. He took one of her fingers and sucked in into his mouth to demonstrate. Her face lit up, and she instantly dove back onto his quivering cock, sucking it into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down. "Oh Jesus," moaned Richard. "Yes. Just like that." Lyssa continued to blow him, slowly and deliberately, savoring every moment. She really did feel like a goddess. Her mate lay prostrate and writhing beneath her, as she dedicated herself totally to pleasuring his magnificent cock. He was hanging on every slight movement of her head and tongue, each nuance eliciting a moan or gasp. She was so focused on her work, she didn't realize that she was driving him crazy. Richard, now, was also beyond rationality. He reached down and plucked Lyssa's head off his dick, then effortlessly tossed her on her back. Before she could react, he spread her legs and mounted her. Her eyes got big as she saw him poised over her, his huge cock pointed menacingly at her most tender parts. She recalled the image she saw of the fragile, young girl impaled with the monstrous cock. The only emotion she felt was envy—she wanted that for herself. And now she was going to get it. She wanted Richard to take her, to ravish her fully. "Lyssa," Richard asked softly, "Do you feel ready for this?" "Oh God, yes. Richard, I need this," she groaned. Then she added, "Please, I want you so bad." Richard guided himself to the opening of her vagina. "Goodbye, virginity," he whispered to Lyssa. "No. Good riddance," she grunted as he penetrated her. He entered slowly and smoothly, trying to go slowly. Her vagina resisted at first, but with just a slight nudge it yielded. As he eased in he felt her sheath gripping him, urging him deeper. In spite of himself, he could not stop until he was fully inserted. He looked down at her. Her head was back and her eyes, half-closed had rolled back. Her mouth had fallen open, and she moaned softly as her internal muscles tried to cope with the invasion. He held still, looking into her eyes. As she adjusted, she squirmed her hips a bit, creating pleasurable sensations for both of them. He waited, patiently, giving her time to relax before he began thrusting, even though every fiber of his being ached to ravish the desirable creature he had conquered. Slowly, he withdrew, leaving just the head between her lips. She looked up at him pleadingly, and her hands reached up to grasp his shoulders, urging him to return. After a few seconds, he complied, gently easing himself back in. Lyssa had never known such pleasure. The feeling was overwhelming and incredibly aggressive, but comforting at the same time. As he entered her fully again, their arms encircled each other, and Lyssa felt that she was enveloped in the most wonderful hug. "That's what sex is," she thought, "it's like a very special kind of hug." She wiggled her body, snuggling closer to Richard. As she began to undulate her hips, he felt that he could wait no longer. Primal feelings stirred in his loins and he began to thrust. He gave her several deep, slow strokes, then, withdrawing, a series of short, quick, shallow thrusts just at the opening. Then back to the long, slow, deep strokes that caused her to shake, to moan. Lyssa looked down to see him thrusting into her, amazed to see the large penis disappear effortlessly (and oh so pleasurably!) between her labia. She looked at the hair on his lean body, and his strong, powerful hips moving to and fro in their rhythmic dance. She saw her own hips matching his thrusts with a gentle rocking motion as she spread her legs further and wrapped her legs around him. The fire was burning again, even more brightly this time. Richard grunted and, with his right arm, he gently lifted her left leg, holding it higher and gaining more access to Lyssa's interior. "No...Oh God," she groaned as he opened her. "No...no...yessss," she moaned as he slid deep into her. He was really thrusting now, mostly long, deep strokes that were becoming quite rapid. He still used the change of speed to slower strokes to build her excitement, but they were both beginning to feel the flames consuming the last shreds of their self control. It wouldn't be long now. He started first. With a feral grunt, he lifted her leg and began thrusting hard and deep, picking up speed. "I don't have any idea what you're doing," she moaned, "...ahhh, God...right there....but don't stop...please God don't stop," she moaned. She was falling deep into the throes, she knew, feeling the beautiful flames encircling them. As she felt herself floating away, she sighed, "Don't fucking stop..." The relentlessly thrusting penis continued its blissful assault. She felt her hips and thighs beginning to twitch and thrust, trying to bury the welcome shaft even more fully inside her. She looked up to see Richard's face a mask of fierce concentration. His eyes were fixed on her pussy as he drilled relentlessly into her. Lyssa felt the orgasm start. It gripped, hard, then it came in waves. She tried to tell Richard, but could only gasp and moan incoherently as her head dropped back and the orgasm pulsed through her loins. The contractions of her grasping pussy only fanned her lover's thrusts to new heights of vigor. He grabbed her and held her close. Melissa felt like a rag doll, her legs flopping open to his virile penetration. "Oh God, Lyssa, I can't hold it anymore," he groaned. He felt like her body was begging for his seed, coaxing it from him. "Don't hold it, darling. I've been waiting all my life for this. Please, oh please give it to me. I want it so much," Lyssa cried as Richard delivered the final aching, pneumatic thrusts. Firm. Decisive. Purposeful. Deep. And finally, the boiling flood, overflowing her with hot wetness, quenching the flames. She dropped her legs as they relaxed together. He held her and snuggled into her hair as she stroked his neck, loving him. "How do you feel?" he asked. "I am the happiest ex-virgin in the history of virginity," she replied softly, kissing him. "No one has ever had a better first experience. It's not possible." She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Richard," she continued, "I am very lucky to have found you—or for you to have found me—and I know that. I am blessed." She kissed him, not wanting to say "thank you," and not needing to. He cleared his throat and spoke softly. "I suppose we should have talked about this before, but are you...um...baby-proof?" Lyssa shook her head. "I've never had to deal with that, obviously. Dearest, this experience was something I've waited my whole life for. I don't think this is the right time of the month for me to be fertile, but if it happens it happens. I can't control everything. I'll find a way to deal with a child if it happens." He kissed her. "No," he corrected her, "WE'LL find a way. Lyssa, I've been so lonely, and you are like a...a miracle that's come into my life. I'd like to keep you here." They embraced, knowing that there would be much more to come for them. After a while, Richard looked at her quizzically again. He started to speak, but remained silent. "Now what?" she asked lightly. "We've already talked about making a baby. What can be worse than that? You can ask me anything." "Well," he began awkwardly, "I know that you're a smoker, and I've heard that smoking after sex is supposed to be a big thing. I was just wondering if you needed to...I mean...Lyssa, I want you to be happy." "Well, I'm not that much of a smoker, really," she answered with a smile, "I was just trying to get noticed by you." She kissed him deeply. "Besides," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "what is this 'after sex' shit? Who said that we were done having sex?" They weren't. Not for a very long time. ==================================================== "Here is your ticket, m'am," the parking attendant said, running his eyes over the attractive woman. She took it with a smile and a wink and strode away. His gaze followed her, longingly. Lyssa had some time, but didn't feel the urge to smoke. It was odd how that had waned along with her itching problem. She went straight up to the doctor's office. "I'm a bit early, I'm afraid," she told the receptionist. The woman looked at her blankly, not recognizing her. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we have an appointment for you, um, Miss..." she left the sentence hanging in mid-air. Then she realized her mistake. "My goodness. Melissa! I'm so sorry that I didn't recognize you," she said, blushing. "Your hairdo is so cute. It really makes you look like a new woman." Lyssa smiled. "Yeah. And the new clothes help too, I think. I really do feel like a new woman." The receptionist rose, and looked at the chart. "You can come back, but I don't think you need to undress. This is just a follow-up consultation. The doctor will just be a couple of minutes." Dr. Karen arrived punctually, as usual. One glance at her patient told her all she needed to know and she smiled. She double-checked the chart, refreshing her memory. "Has the cream worked?" she asked. Lyssa smiled. "It worked wonders, doctor. I feel so much better. I can't thank you enough." The doctor smiled. "I suspected that it would," she said. Then she thought for a moment. "Perhaps we should make just a brief examination to be sure the problem is corrected. You can just slip your slacks down." Lyssa complied and lay back on the examining table, lifting her legs. Again, one glance was enough. The doctor smiled again—apparently her patient had been making up for lost time. "Yes, I see that the treatment has been successfully completed," she said. As Lyssa dressed, the doctor made a few final notes on the chart. "You may use the rest of the cream whenever you like." Lyssa blushed slightly. "And for as long as you like," the doctor said with a knowing smile. "I think you will have no more problems with the itching." Lyssa, took the doctor's hand in both of hers. "Thank you, Doctor. For everything. You have done more for me than you could ever know." Dr. Karen smiled and said simply, "You are very welcome. It makes me happy to know that you are healed." Thinking for a moment, she reached into her drawer and handed Lyssa a pamphlet. "This is a brochure on birth control options," she said simply. "If you think that you want to explore this topic, you may schedule an appointment anytime—there is no hurry. Just call when you come to a decision." Lyssa nodded, but she knew that her decision had already been made. As she returned to the receptionist's desk and handed in her paperwork she smiled sweetly. "I'd like to schedule a follow-up appointment, please," she said. "As soon as possible. It's quite urgent."