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Doctor of Desire Ch. 01

By: LargoKitt



Chapter 1 – Getting Down To Business

Casey Darden, M.D. never worked for the woman herself. Hard and fast rule. It must be her friends, a member of the family, her lover or her spouse who hired him. They must pay and keep the fee secret from the woman being treated. But he never set the fee. He left it open for the client to decide. If she received full value; if the woman he had treated was now fully capable of unbridled passion, they were free to pay what they felt that was worth. Almost never had he been disappointed. Almost never had they been disappointed. Fortunately, many of his clients were very wealthy.

Casey's modus operandi was not to create a romantic relationship with the woman. Though he was never certain at first whether or not she knew he had been hired, he managed to let her know that he was there for her. Like a private masseur, like a personal trainer, like a bodyguard, a life counselor. He gave her his card after a nice long talk and then he went away. Give her time to call him back if she wanted the service. So far, nobody had turned it down. He always did his best to signal from the beginning that he was the kind of man who enjoyed a woman's body but did not make long-term commitments. It was true, both personally and professionally. But it was also a balancing act. Few women that he knew liked to feel they were being used, unless that state of humiliation was a turn on.

He had had a couple of cases like that, but the objective had been to bring her back to self-assured, confident sexuality. Most of his cases were women who as a result of trauma, appearance, age, or upbringing had locked up their sex and forgot how to find it. So in a sense he was a detective. He had to work hard to find, first, the crypt or bound chest in which they had hidden their treasures and then to help them to unlock the secret place and display the jewels.

Those who did not know him well but had heard of his profession often thought he had the perfect cushy job. Nothing could be easier. And look at the perks. He didn't try to explain that he was not a gigolo. His task was not to supply eye candy for bored divorcées, nor to tumble into the sack on demand. His job description was simple, "to help a woman with little desire for sex to want lots of good sex." But most of the work was not done in the bedroom. Most women of his acquaintance, and those he had read about needed sex to occur in a setting that was right for it.

There were few like his college buddy Lani Detrich who just went for it when they felt a tickle and stepped away from it without an afterthought. She was his Muse, the one who had started the whole business. He had bumped into her in an Internet café one afternoon about five years after they had left Med School. They had a comfortable chat about what they were doing. At that time he was just finishing his residency and she had landed a job as assistant marketing director for a lighting firm. They made a lunch date for a few days later.

He arrived at her office about fifteen minutes early and figured he would have to wait in the comfortable lobby for a bit. It had nice big tan leather chairs and Aberrataz southwestern prints on the wall. But when he started to pick up a magazine the receptionist, soft spoken and in filmy pastels, told him to just go to the conference room and tap on the door.

He did and someone opened it. Lani was in mid sentence of a PowerPoint® presentation about some new lighting installation at a boutique hotel. She continued for a couple of phrases but then stopped, apologized to the suits who seemed to be the clients, told them to grab a coffee break, dodged around the conference table, and took him firmly by the arm. She planted a gentle kiss behind his right ear and murmured, "God, I'm glad you got here now. I've been thinking too much about our lunch and not the hotel project. You're going to need to help me."

Using his elbow like the rudder of a small sailboat she steered him through the lobby, past the averted eyes of the receptionist and down a short corridor to an emergency exit door. The alarm had a key and she unlocked it. He was a bit surprised that the lone key was already in her hand. Pushing him through the door she slammed it behind them. With a hand in the middle of his chest she shoved him over until his back was against the landing wall. "Stay there please!" she whispered with a big smile. She was wearing a simple, elegant pinstriped suit with a mid-thigh fitting skirt. She grabbed the hem and pulled it up to her waist revealing stockings with tight lace tops and a lacy thong. Quickly she slipped the thong off and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. "You can keep those."

Hunkering in front of him, she neatly unzipped his fly, undid the belt and the button and let his pants fall around his ankles.

"Spread your legs a little, thanks. Hmm, I guess you're not quite ready. Let me help." His cock was about at half-mast and, depending on circumstance, was ready to go up or down. 

She knelt on the crumpled fabric between his legs. She was a tall woman and her face came just to the right spot. 

"You let me know if I am even a little bit too rough."

She took two beautifully manicured fingers and lifted his loose sac gently to her lips, slowly engulfing one tender egg. She sucked on it as though it was the softest chocolate truffle. 

"Mmm," low and deep in her throat. "Mmm."

The flagstaff rose to full length and as it did the purple plum of a head squeezed out of the tight foreskin. The length of it lay across her cheek and pushed up toward her temple. A fine clear bead appeared at the tip. After a moment it melted into the fine sweat on the pale skin at the roots of her red-brown hair.

"Ah!" He cried out. Her lips were strong and had pulled just a bit hard. As though to apologize she let her tongue gently wash the nut that was now beginning to do its work, clenching up toward his body where it could release its busy cargo.

Out in the corridor he heard the clatter of cups and the wheels on the coffee cart as it headed to the conference room. Two admin assists chattered about a sale down the block at the Gap. He felt his excitement lessen a bit.

"Please! Stay with me." She begged. "Just a little more of this, now, OK?"

She took his member tenderly in her left hand and gave it a little squeeze. The head stretched larger and her eyes got bigger. A little moan escaped as his tender knob disappeared into her open smile, stretched wide. His butt clenched and he almost lost it. She looked up through big wet disappointed eyes. Then her lips pulled down tight on him almost to the point of pain, sucking hard. She smiled around the shaft knowing he could wait if she did this.

It was hard, and it was difficult. He made a 'no' noise when she started to massage the head with her tongue, knowing that would send him over the edge. So she very, very slowly sucked it into her throat, her nostrils spreading very wide, as though to help, and at the same time suck his man-smell deep into her. She didn't stop until her lips were against his body burrowed in curling hair, her chin against his balls.

To lock him to her, she slid her left hand around and under his balls, letting her long middle finger press firmly on that magic spot just behind them. The hall outside was quiet now. 

The hum of air conditioning came from up the stairwell. He heard a very tiny lapping sound and realized she must be caressing herself. Little shivers began to move up her body and he felt her throat clench. Small moans oozed around his cock. 

It was too much. He cried out. He had to let go. He wanted to pour a quart of hot spunk deep into her throat.

But with a great gasp she tugged his cock from her mouth.

"Wait, wait, please wait! Hold tight. Let me go first."

He clenched his belly and held on. He heard her frantic right hand churning down below and felt her mouth, almost cruel, vacuuming his cock as though to milk every drop of juice from him. Then in one smooth movement she stood and planted a deep wide-mouth kiss on him. He let her hands, both of them, surround his cock and cram it into her urgent wet heat. 

He expected a drenched swamp but to his surprise she was very tight and she took him in very slowly. She was no virgin, but what he felt must have been the accomplished clench of a woman who worked this muscle like an athlete.

He felt every millimeter. She took every inch and as the last one plunged home she grabbed his buttocks and pulled him as tight to her as she could get, grinding their pubic bones together.

"Now! If you have to! But wait, if you can!"

She took his lower lip in her teeth and began to rock with him deep inside her. He felt her belly spasm and spasm again and the tight damp fur of her mons scrubbed hard against his pubic bone, hungry, urgent. Suddenly she was burying her moans deep in his mouth, her tongue a wet animal all over his, her hands jerking hard at the shoulders of his jacket as her hips rammed him again and again against the wall. 

One long cry and he felt her hot juice erupt around his cock and run down his legs. 

She shuddered with long aftershocks, her face buried deep in his neck, a patch of skin sucked hard into her mouth. He knew he would have a serious hickey the next day.

When she finally came up for air, her face bright pink, her pupils wide and wet and dark, he figured he had done his job. Inside her his cock began a slow curl. She felt it, of course, and a small furrow appeared between her brows.

"No, stop." Her voice was very low, very slow. "I'm not done."

"You could have fooled me." He was feeling just a bit used.

"No. I need yours or else it's all wasted. That's the whole point." 

"O...K."

"How do you want me? Against the wall? On the stairs so you can dog me?" 

Sweet. No roughness to her question. He considered his options. With his pants around his ankles any change would add comedy. 

"I could turn around, like a lap dance." She offered salaciously.

"I like you in my arms. Let's stay the way we are." 

He was still deep in her, hot and comfortable. Didn't know if he could get it this way.

"Slide your back down the wall, just a little." She suggested.

He did. She let his warm organ slide out until just the tip was between her lips. Grabbing it tightly, she rubbed it against her sensitive places. She jerked. He jerked, the tender skin liking this friction. She smiled. She squeezed the shaft so the head was as tight and shiny and big and purple as it could be. Pushed it hard into her until it popped into the soft part inside.

Popped it out. Did the whole trick over several times. Soon he was so hard it stung and his balls and belly ached for release.

"Are you ready?" Her face was close to his, thick wings of hair making a private room of their faces. They were both breathing heavily now. 

"Go." He let her start, moving in slow rhythm up and down his shaft all the way, slowly pulling almost all the way out, feeling the cool air on it, then jamming down hard and fast. She yelped every time he went in and gave a shivery little moan every time he came out. It was a mystery. She was so tight and yet so wet. 

His hands on her ass were slippery with it and he rubbed her own juices into her cheeks, seeking a better grip, fingers finally finding a seat deep in the cleft. His middle finger massaged the puckered spot and he felt it open a little. A cat sound growled from her and her head went back. Inside he felt her open, too and he knew he could ride in with full force.

She unbuttoned her jacket. Under it she was wearing no blouse, just a simple underwire bra that matched the thong in his pocket. She undid the snap over her breastbone and the natural beauties flowed out. Her nipples were a smoky lavender with a hint of rust in the corollas, though the blush covering her chest and belly tinted them with rouge. She lifted one toward his mouth and he pulled the tight cylinder with the fat pink tip deep into his mouth.  She jerked. Down below started to get noisy with all the juice.

She wanted a regular beat and he let her have it for a couple dozen strokes feeling his cock force the yeah, yeah, YEAH, yeah, yeah, YEAH out of her. Her head shook and hair thrashed with the rhythm. But now it was his time to do it. Squeezing both cheeks of her ass roughly he dragged her on and off his shaft in the rhythm he wanted, now fast, now slow, now deep now shallow, building, building. He tilted her back so the head could massage her magic spot and she began to lose it, her voice no longer her own.

Deep into her, he heard footsteps above and before he knew it, a wiry guy in an industrial jumpsuit carrying a bucket came down the stairs. To Lani the man didn't seem even to be there, or so he thought. She just kept up her fucking. The guy just walked past them and on down. But as he was going by he lightly put his hand in the middle of Lani's back, as though to steady himself. Casey thought he saw her toss him a tiny smile. The next minute she was coming.

This time he didn't wait, though he let her beat him to the finish line. He saw the orgasm hit her in the face as her mouth and nostrils stretched as wide as possible to let it in. It filled her throat. It convulsed through her chest, shaking her breasts again and again and then drove deep into her belly and wouldn't let go. Her mons ground into him and twisted in a tight circle making him brace his legs against it. Her hips popped again and again, her thighs clutching him. He plunged a slippery finger deep into her ass.

"Please. Please, please. Please! PLEASE!" 

He took her firmly by the hips and disappeared. He was nowhere but inside that mad, wet room. No craft, no art, no performance, just the beast doing what beasts do, no names, no style, so deep, feeling it build. They say that when a man releases he only lets go on one side, so the other is ready for the next time. But that day he swore he fired from both guns. There was an odd, beautiful pause, a second and forever, and then he was shooting every ounce of sap deep, deep into her. It wouldn't stop. The aftershocks came again and again, so that just when he thought he was done his balls clenched and shook loose another load. 

As he slowly shrank away he felt her shudders too, the walls of her warm cunt clutching at him, whole body shaking as breathy little moans left it.

She fell into his arms and he was not sure how long they stayed that way. He came to when he realized his legs were shaking. Lani stepped away from him, buttoning her jacket and tugging her skirt down where it belonged. It must have been some miracle fabric because there was hardly a wrinkle in it. She ran her fingers back through her hair and miraculously it fell almost perfectly into place.

"Do you have a handkerchief?" 

Miraculously, he did.

"Can I borrow it?" 

He fished it out of his pocket and gave it to her.

She took it and tidied his face, brushing his hair back into place. She kissed him.

"Now you do me." She handed him the handkerchief. He dabbed her damp upper lip and the shiny spot on her chin. Selfishly, he didn't touch her slick temples.

"My turn again." This time she took the cloth and gently cleaned off his privates, careful to dry the drenched balls. He reached out his hand.

"That's OK. I'll do me." She reached up under her skirt and when the hand reappeared the handkerchief was not in it. 

"I'll give it to you later," she said in a businesslike way. "Ready?"

He had just managed to finish zipping up his pants.

"Let's go."

They saw no one in the corridor when they reentered the office. Lani walked with him to the reception desk where the receptionist was holding out two washroom keys. Casey, who felt naked, expected some hidden or disapproving look, but she gazed at Lani soft-eyed, clearly just a touch envious.

When Casey got out of the washroom Lani was already waiting for him. Except for a slight pinkness in her cheeks that could have been makeup, and a small pucker in the knee of her stocking she looked ready for business.

"I should be done in ten minutes, fifteen at tops. Please wait. There are plenty of sports magazines and Marcia will give you a headset that plugs into the company mp3 collection. See ya in a bit. Oh, here's your hanky." She didn't even wink. He took the damp object and put it in his pocket resisting the urge to sniff it.

As he headed back to the lobby he glanced at the sculptural clock in the corner and was astonished to see it was just one minute past midday. It felt like mid afternoon.

He was grateful that the receptionist didn't want to talk. But as he waited he read her body language and realized he could tell she would never do what Lani had done, though he couldn't be sure Lani hadn't done something similar with her. But that was what got him to thinking. 

What a difference in women. He remembered overhearing his sister on the phone with her best friend. She was complaining about how there was so little passion in her life, in the lives of so many of her friends. "No one ever had orgasms. Hell, their blood pressure hardly rises, even when the guy is chugging away." 

His sister had caught sight of him and shut up. But what an idea. Maybe there could be a new profession in this. He would need to take more psychology courses, be very professional. And each case, each therapy would have to be tailored exactly to the woman who needed it. 

Later at lunch Lani completely bought into the idea. When he expressed a doubt that a man could always really know where a woman should go with her sexuality Lani was the one who suggested a team approach, research, and enlisting the help of the woman's friends or relatives where appropriate to find out the exact needs of that person. They would sponsor her. She told him she was sure there were several women who were ready right then to be clients: an ex-nun who couldn't seem to get ready for men, a first-class athlete who never had a steady guy, a mature woman who wrote 'dirty' historical romances but always kept her legs crossed, a workaholic chief exec, a gal who couldn't stop talking long enough to fuck, even a lesbian who dreamed of having a baby "the natural way" but didn't want to even pretend she was changing her sexual orientation. 

Lani was sure that he could do it and that once word got around about this unique service the client list would be endless.

He and Lani had a couple more dates, sex in actual beds. It wasn't the same. They were too much the same. The novelty of the first time was what had made it dynamite. Besides, now they were business partners and you gotta be careful about mixing sex and work. And soon he was working a lot.

Doctor of Desire Ch. 02



Chapter 2 - A Hot Workout

Casey was still mulling over the idea and starting to do his reading when he got a call from Lani. "Are you ready to go to work?"

"What?"

"I've got a client. Ready and willing. Or at least ready and pretty willing. Her sister is the contact. She has already softened her up a touch. Not actually. This one is no softy. Hard body. Serious athlete. You may have heard of her. Deann Downs."

"Deann Downs? That Deann Downs? You're not serious. That one could get any man on the planet."

He did his research. 

He met with the sister, who was definitely a sister and raised an eyebrow when she saw Casey walk into the club where Lani had arranged for them to meet. Discreet waiters in starched linen jackets. Good wine. Plates of cheeses, crudite. The sister voiced her concern.

"How is a dude as white as you going to get my gal to turn on her freak? Hell, marshmallow, you likely don't know what a freak is or what to do if you accidentally bump into it. Oh, I'm not saying you're not cute. You are cute as Lani said you were. Let me tell you, given the right night and I'm out of my teddy and briefs, but Deann. Girl's got serious attitude. The woman is a serious athlete, a sprinter and long jumper and pole vaulter. Always in training. But even though she is at the top of her game and got a body like an Olympic statue and good money in the bank from endorsements she is not happy with what is happening in her bed. She has been so driven to succeed that sex mostly just gets in the way. And men, even other athletes who know the sacrifice and training required, treat her like some dumb bitch who wins by dumb luck or like some Amazon they have to beat with their hands and their dicks in order to maintain their pride. They just do her and move on. Jawbone with their crew. Well, and sometimes she just does them. Over in a couple of minutes. After a while she just gave it up. Didn't even really do herself."

Casey also talked, discreetly to another athlete on Deann's travel team. She told Casey that Deann talked about "losing her edge" and "going soft." Still, she could tell there was something missing. She talked about "feeling like a dried up leaf inside." And what worried her was that it seemed to be affecting her performance. Some women took male hormones to get their freak back on. She couldn't do that without being disqualified. 

Casey got all the backstory before he arranged for their first encounter at her next track practice. 

They didn't actually really meet. He wanted it that way. He wanted to observe. But he didn't hide. He arrived as the women were doing their stretching and marked out his "patient." She was clearly a very healthy specimen. But then all of them were. There was the lanky Slav with no hips, the short powerful gal with killer thighs and the tight pony tail, the giggly blond, seemingly too soft for a competitive athlete, yet he knew she was a world class 1500 meter runner. But "his" gal, Deann was something to see. He felt guilty because he couldn't help comparing her body to a fine thoroughbred mare, especially in the skintight running outfit that revealed every muscle on her body.

Above medium height. Fine square shoulders and toned arms. Washboard belly, great powerful thighs and graceful though compact calves. Slim ankles. Magnificent buttocks, high, round and separate. It took his breath away to see them bunch and release as she jogged down the track. Light brown skin, full lips, generous nose with nostrils that flared when she ran, big gray eyes, short afro that bounced just a little when she moved. Great shy smile with double dimples when she spotted him in the stands and he gave a little wave.

He said almost nothing to her that day, "Hi, I'm Casey. I'll be giving you a call." That evening he told her sister and her best friend, that he would take the job.

For three weeks he didn't call. But every two or three days he appeared in the stands beside the track to watch her, waved, disappeared while she was busy with her practice. He worked to keep it irregular, to keep her off base. Finally, he noticed her mouth was going down and tight when she saw him. He allowed himself to sit right down near her stretching area at the next practice. After she was warmed up she stalked over to him as he knew she would.

"What are you doing? Whatever it is, it is messing up my routine. Mean seriously. I go looking to see if you are here and I'm not paying attention to my work. Almost walked under a javelin the other day. I don't get it. You are supposed to be helping me, but you are messing me up. If this is how you work, let's just call it off, OK? Seriously, I don't want to be doing that Jr. High school 'will he, won't he' thing. Let's get this thing going, or forget it."

"You're ready?"

"What did I just say?"

"You are a woman of action."

"That's me"

"That could be a problem."

"What? How is that?"

"Meet me for lunch at the Silverside Diner and we'll find out."

"Why should I?"

"Because your sister and your girlfriend want you to, I want you to, and I think you want you to. I am led to believe there is something missing in your life."

"Well it isn't exactly a man. I got plenty of those if I just put on the right tight dress. And what would I want with a white boy like you anyway?" She held her fingers a couple of inches apart. "If the brothers with the serious johnsons don't do it for me."

"It's not about them. It's not about me. It's about you. I think maybe I can help."

"You mean 'help yourself.' Well, I'm not an order of fried chicken."

Casey was getting tired of the banter. He knew it had its place, but he was pretty sure it was one of the tools Deann used to keep men at arms length. So he stepped further away, just ignored the zap.

"Lunch at one o'clock. Will that be alright?"

"Sure. Why not?"

If possible Deann looked better in a pair of sky blue Bermuda shorts and a pink tank top. Simple, straightforward. Sexy. He discovered they were her own design. Really her own, not just something she pasted her name on.

"Here's what it is," he told her, passing the menu across the table. "I am not even going to pretend to be careful of your routine, to make sure you are in training and getting plenty of sleep. I'm warning you now, so you can get full use out of me, because your game is going to suffer. But I'm making a bet with you, and myself, that we can pass through this well before you need to knuckle down for the nationals. And by then I personally think you will be in the best shape of your life."

"Pretty speech. And all just to get my freak on a little louder. I don't know. I reserve the right to bail at any time, any second."

"Of course."

They ate most of the meal in silence.

"So do we go somewhere and you jump my bones now?"

"No, I don't want to do that."

"You don't?"

They were walking out of the restaurant. He stopped and she stopped and he just looked at her, all the way up and all the way down.

"No, I don't."

"I guess you are just some kind of queer who knows all the right moves. I've heard of those."

"I don't fuck men. And I didn't say I didn't want you. I just said I didn't want to go somewhere and jump your bones."

"So what's next?"

"Well, I'd like you to meet me at the stadium tonight. Just before they turn the lights out. That would be about ten, right?"

"They lock the place."

"I have a key."

"You have a key. I don't know. You could be some kind of pervert or creepy rapist. My cousin is a cop, a big cop."

"Bring him, if it makes you feel safer. But I think you can take care of yourself."

"I can."

"Tonight then."

"Tonight."

He wasn't late, in fact, a little bit early. She was wearing a dress. He knew she would be; he had his informants, so he had brought along a pair of running shoes in her size. That's all.

"So what are we going to do? Talk? Make out? Lie on the grass and look at the stars? Make love on the infield?

"None of the above."

He locked the entrance gate behind him and led her through the tunnel under the bleachers. Her steps grew slower behind him.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't think getting raped in this tunnel is my idea of good therapy."

"Me neither. Why would you?"

"Because another man, a very handsome fullback thought that would be 'the perfect therapy for what was wrong with me.'"

"I'm not that man."

"No, but he's not the only one with that idea."

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"Is that right? Then why are we here?"

He stopped and looked at the empty stadium, emerald under the lights.

"You want to be here, and some people who care a lot for you want you to be happy."

"And you are going to make me happy?"

He turned and gently took her shoulders.

"I am not going to 'make you' anything. I believe that with my help you can be who you want to be."

"And who is that?"

"Are you willing to trust me long enough to find out if you really want to find out?"

She said nothing for a long time, staring into his eyes, questioning. Then she nodded.

"Good." Casey pulled a switch and the stadium lights went out.

"What do we do now?"

"Follow me."

He led her down to the track, holding her hand on the dark steps. Then he sat on a bench beside the track.

"Take off your heels and put these on."

"You know my size?"

"They are your favorite cross trainers."

"What are we going to do?"

"We are going to run."

"In a dress?"

"That's up to you. You have a choice, the dress or nothing at all."

"I like this dress."

"I do too."

"I'll take it off."

He helped her unzip the dress, took it and carefully folded it on the bench.

She wore a little uplift bra that made her bosom swell nicely above the lavender cups and matching lavender bikini briefs with lace that decorated her well rounded thighs and allowed a tantalizing bit of buttock to show.

"Your own design?"

She smiled and pivoted showing them off.

"What are you going to wear, boxers or briefs?"

"Same as you. Nothing."

"Oh, when you said nothing you meant nothing. I thought..."

"I know, and much as I would love to see you get those silkies all sweated up, that was not my contract."

"This seems soon."

"It does, doesn't it? But those are my terms. Deal?"

She frowned but began slipping a strap off her shoulder.

"I don't think I am as pretty with nothing on at all. I was hoping for something classy."

"I agree that you are gorgeous in your lace. But this is not about impressing me. This is about you being free. Please, favor me."

She let him help unhook the bra and the stepped gracefully out of the briefs.

"What now?"

"I want you to run."

"You're not running with me?"

"Not yet. You are so much better trained than I. We will stretch together. Then you run alone. You show me how you warm up. Please excuse my eyes on your body. You are magnificent."

She stretched her arms to the sky twisting her wrists together the S shaped muscles lifting her small, round breasts high, her dark corollas puckering and nipples tightening into hard purple beads in the cool summer air and under his admiring gaze. Then she leaned forward, chest against her knees pulling the muscles of her legs tight, causing the hard curve of her buttocks to gleam just a bit in the moonlight.

"You aren't saying anything," she murmured. Most guys would be making cracks.

"If you like you can imagine what I am saying, what I am admiring. I will just admire in silence."

Boldly she placed her legs at shoulder width and swung her arms from side to side. Then she stepped wider and stretched toward the ground. Boldly he walked around behind her and admired the groove down the middle of her back ending in the swollen cheeks of her buttocks and as she bent forward the shy pale line that separated the dark patch below.

"Hey pervert, my turn!" 

He actually blushed a bit as he stretched his legs apart. In the cool air his sack hugged his body and his member was hardly more than a button. He swallowed his embarrassment as she walked around him and looked as nonchalantly as he had. Together they stretched their quads, standing and pulling heel against ass. Her tailored dark triangle framed the strong flat muscles of her belly. He waggled a little, not feeling very impressive and feeling glad for the forty crunches he did each AM.

"Time to run."

"Time to run."

"Sure you won't come with me?"

"Sure. I'll just stay here and protect your dainties. I'd like you just to run free. Feel the wind on your body. Open yourself too it. Don't think about form. Just make love to the night. Let the moon bathe your shoulders. Feel the heat come up in you. Let your muscles fill with it. Go"

She had been prancing in place and she bolted at his word. Soon she was lost in the darkness at the end of the track. He saw her emerge and take the straightaway, her chin back, arms loose, knees high. He was not surprised when she blew right by him once and then twice and then he joined her.

He ran for a time just behind her, watching the bunching and release of those magnificent buttocks. Then for a time they ran in stride. He was proud to match her pace and happy she did not compete. They ignored time, warming until both their bodies shone and the sweat ran in a shine between her gently bouncing breasts. 

They both knew which was the last lap and sprinted for the "finish line," her burst of speed amazing to watch. He clasped her in a great sweaty embrace and knew at that moment that he could have dropped her to the grass and filled her body. But he did not do that or even kiss her. Instead, with a big smile he slowly unpeeled himself from her hot skin and walked to his bag where he had cold water and a dry towel.

"Let me dry you off."

"In a minute when the breeze has cooled my sweat."

She poured some of the water over her head making her tight curls glisten in the moonlight. She drank deep from the bottle and he shivered to see her thick strong lips around the neck of it and the contractions in her smooth, sweaty throat as the water went down. Then he took the towel and slowly dried her off, her hair, her face, gently patting down her shoulders, smoothing down one arm all the way to the fingers, then the other, drying the glistening groove down the middle of her back, carefully wiping under each breast, down the sexy valley that ended just above her furry triangle, spending a little extra time on the high, round buttocks, stroking each muscular leg, pouring water on each of her feet and cleaning them off. He ignored just one small area, leaving it warm and moist.

Then he helped her on with her clothes, all except her panties, which he kept securely in his pocket.

He could see that she was disappointed, but he said nothing as each opportunity to make love to her was ignored. A tight furrow appeared between her beautifully curved eyebrows.

"Is something the matter?"

"After all that, I thought you...I thought we..."

"No, not yet. I don't think you are ready. But I do have a gift for you, and I fully expect you to wear it from now on, at least until we meet again."

The frown disappeared and was replaced by a small smile.

Casey reached in his pocket and took out what appeared to be a pendant, a silver bead about the size of a ripe pea on a thin black cord. He held it up and the frown reappeared when she saw that there were two cords, not one.

"I don't understand. What is it?"

"Oh, something very special. Just for you. Allow me to put it on you."

She lowered her head so he could slip it around her neck.

"No, no, that's not where it goes. Come over here to the bench. Stand up on it please. That's good. Now place your foot here."

He opened one loop of the cord and she stepped into it.

"Now place your other foot here."

She stepped into the other one.

"Now lift your skirt please."

She hesitated.

"What is this weirdness?"

"Trust me. I think this is something you will like."

She raised the raspberry fabric just below her mons.

"Higher, please. To your waist."

He gently lifted the two cords up her legs until they looped like an almost invisible thong around her buttocks. He carefully positioned the silver bead between her slightly puffy lips just under her clit.

"There, I think that will do it." He placed a gentle kiss on her belly just below her "outie" and carefully lowered her dress again. "Is that comfortable?"

Her eyes were strangely liquid and a bit wide.

"Well, not exactly, but..."

"You may get used to it, and then again, you may not. The bead is a high grade stainless steel, so it should not irritate your skin. Please wear it all the time.

"All the time? I need to wash. I need to pee and crap. I need to work out and compete."

"All the time, if possible, and especially when you work out and compete. Shall we go?"

"My underwear?"

"No. I'll keep those."

"Then I should get to keep yours."

"OK. He unzipped his fly.

"Nevermind."

He helped her down from the bench and they left the stadium. He stopped as they entered the light outside.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you one thing, the bead is a tiny vibrator. It can only be activated by this."

Out of his pocket he took a small lozenge shaped red plastic device cradled in her lavender panties.

"It is a very powerful little bluetooth device. Transmits over a hundred yards, maybe more." He put it back in his coat pocket.

As they got in his car she asked, "Aren't you going to...test it?"

"Not necessary. It's foolproof. But I may activate it at any time. Don't ask me. I won't tell you."

They had a very pleasant dinner at an oriental fusion restaurant, drank an expensive chardonnay, kept the conversation light, mostly about sports teams and the rigors of travel on the professional track circuit.

But once, just before a dessert of strawberry short cake, he put his hand in his pocket. Her nostrils flared and a fine sheen of perspiration appeared on her upper lip. She snatched her napkin, which disappeared below the table. For a moment she sat with her eyes squeezed tight shut her breath short and hard. Finally she gave a sigh that caught the attention of a woman at the next table. When she opened her eyes they were wet.

She hissed, with a smile, "You bastard. Now I have to go to the ladies room. I hope I didn't ruin my dress."

She stood, a bit shaky.

"Any spots?"

"Nothing that couldn't be anything."

When she returned he had ordered a fine port to go with dessert.

"Please turn that thing off!" She whispered. I had another one in the bathroom. A good thing I was on the pot. Some old woman thought I was sick. She offered me her Pepto Bismol tablets."

He dropped her off at her car after dinner, giving her a sweet kiss on the forehead. That wasn't enough for her. She grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him on the mouth pushing a snaky tongue between his lips and pressing her hips hard against him, pinning him to the car. Casey could have taken her right then on the hood, but, though his balls ached, he stuck with his plan.

"You go home and get a good night's sleep. I know you have a meet at the end of the week and so I think it would be better if we don't have another "lesson" until after that. But please wear my gift, and know that I'm nearby."

She bit her lip, clearly disappointed.

"Maybe you are right about the meet. And sure, I'll wear the fucking thing. What harm could it do?"

For the next few days he attended her workouts, though he did not speak to her. But he made it a point to wave with just a bit of the lavender panties visible in his hand. One time when she was doing her leg stretches on the infield he saw her start breathing heavily and just fall back onto the grass. When she got up again she grinned and pointed at him and wagged her finger. 




Doctor of Desire Ch. 02



Another time she was positioning herself in the blocks for a sprint. She lifted those magnificent haunches in the air at "ready" and stumbled out of the blocks like a weak colt on "go". Her manager, Leon, a stocky guy, very dark, balding and always chewing gum, came over to ask what was wrong. She waved it off. Said she had a little cramp in her left thigh. Flipped Casey the bird behind the manager's back. Then she let Leon "massage the kink" out of her quad and it hit her again. He wanted to give her the rest of the day off, but she would have none of it.

The next day she was working on hurdles, high jump and pole vault. As she did her warm up lap she stuck her tongue out at Casey. Later she casually slid over to the bleachers where he was sitting.

"You can't get me today. It's too dangerous especially on the hurdles and the pole vault. So I took it off."

Casey pretended to be disappointed.

"Aw, you don't trust me?"

"Not for a second."

"Suppose I told you that bead had a special coating on it that can rub off, a coating that is sensitive to Bluetooth signals."

"I'd say you were playing me bigtime."

"OK"

"OK"

She went back to her workout. After she finished the hurdles she passed him during her cooldown lap. He had his hand in his pocket. She looked over, stumbled and gave him a very curious look. She then worked very hard at the pole vault, managing to better her personal best of fourteen feet. After that last jump she was lying on the cushions in the pit when she glanced over at Casey. He waved her panties at her and it was some time before she got up.

Their next date was after the big meet. He ignored her and she ignored him. He tried to be objective. Somehow her performance was different. It was a bit sloppier, less mechanical, looser, but somehow more graceful. "She didn't try to "kill" the qualifying heats, just get under the wire that allowed her to move on. She was magnificent to watch, thick thighs pumping hard, mouth open and beautifully loose, nostrils flaring, those tight round buttocks bunching and releasing. More than once Casey had to adjust himself. Finally, covered in a fine sheet of sweat, she finished the pentathlon. She came in second, but she was beaming, gave Leon a huge hug, and planted a wet one on Casey.

They ordered in at her place. Fed each other sushi and sashimi. Fully clothed. Her face suddenly got serious.

"I have a confession to make," she murmured. "I fucked Leon on Thursday."

"Broke training?"

"Broke training. Best thing I ever did."

"It was good?"

"It was fine. Dude knows how to take his time. Doesn't put on airs. Spends lots of time with that fuzzy mustache on my nips. Real relaxed about "using his head" if you get my drift. And the cutest, thickest spout on him. Fits just fine."

"You don't need to be telling me all this. Especially if you and he..."

"Well, I want to tell you because you're my doctor, and you helped me find and appreciate this good man. And now, what shall we do? Don't you dare tell me you don't want some of this."

"Leon?"

"That's still happening. But I pay my debts."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to do that. I need to show you I appreciate what you have given me. What I have given me. And by the way. I did figure out that that silver bead was some sweet bullshit. Bluetooth, my ass. But it felt kind of interesting. Just might get myself one of those piercings. And now, let's get this on. Where do we start?

Casey started with that small region he had failed to dry back in the stadium. Funny thing, when he got her tight jeans off he discovered it was still wet.



Doctor of Desire Ch. 03



Chapter 3: Guardian Devil

She wasn't Sister Mary Aloysius when he met her. Hadn't been for several years. Actually, her real name was Gerta. But even though she had left orders because she had 'impure thoughts' that grew and grew until they erased her ability to spend quality time in prayer, she was unable to develop a real intimate relationship with anyone. Casey spoke with her 'ex' Mother Superior, confessing that his role was to help her develop her normal sexuality. 

He did not detail that his was "hands on" therapy, but the woman was not dumb. He could tell that she knew there was something more than classic doctor/patient in his treatment of Gerta. Still, the Mother Superior was candid with him.

"I don't think she had any real sexual abuse when she was a child. Yes, there was an uncle who kept her a little too long on his lap. There was a cousin who liked to play "show me" games. I don't know about girls. She had a crush on a teacher.... I just don't know. Her dreams, her fantasies were about devils, rough, hairy creatures with horns and tails. 

She couldn't stop imagining herself in all sorts of compromising positions with these creatures. They were always making her do things. We would come into her chamber in the morning and she would be sopping wet, her hair in strings, her nose running. We had to change mattresses; they were just torn up. We don't know how she did it. 

"Many nights we stood outside her door, helpless, helpless to do anything because the door was just jammed shut. None of us could force it open, while inside, inside there were the most godawful sounds, you should pardon the expression. It sounded as though she was being ravished, ravished by some huge animal. Her cries were at once fearful and pitiful and at the same time full of ecstasy and joy. I can't explain it. 

"However, I confess that one reason she left orders was the effect she was having on the other sisters. Oh, none of them seemed to be possessed in the same way, but still...they would gather outside her door, like moths to a flame. You could see that the noises in that room reached right into their souls and shook them to the ground, some literally. 

Sister Angela had a fainting spell right there. Others clutched at themselves in a manner unseemly for the religious. I forbade them to leave their cells at night. Yet in good conscience I could not lock them in. I knew they disobeyed me, because, because...I disobeyed myself and found them outside her door.

"We had Father Eric and Father Paul in to attempt an exorcism but it failed, failed miserably. At first they could not even get into her room at night to perform the ceremony. So we had them attend her during the day until the evening. When sister came in the evening to deliver their suppers the door was locked, though there was no lock on the door. 

The awful sounds commenced, yet this time intensified. Their cries filled the entire convent. The sisters ran about shrieking and fainting. And in the morning the priests emerged changed men. They had aged years and could hardly speak. Their garments were ragged below the waist.

Sister Mary Aloysius had no memory of the events; said she had spent a peaceful night without dreams. 

"We tried again by placing sister Mary in the infirmary with Fathers Donald and Pierre. There was no effect and it was hard to believe that this angelic person could be possessed. But as soon as she returned to her chambers it all began again.

"I had to let her go.

"So good luck, young man, but watch yourself. I fear this is not just some mild neurosis or depression to be cured by drugs. I believe you have a genuine adversary here."

This cast a whole new light on the problem. In simplest terms, Gerta was not interested in new lovers because she already had one, a very powerful, fulfilling lover, and one not easily discouraged.

Gerta and Casey met for coffee. He hardly knew how to address the problem.

"Gerta, your friends, your sisters think you need to find a companion to share your life, now that you are no longer a religious. Do you feel the same way?"

Gerta didn't look at Casey right away but took the time to form her answer. She wasn't conventionally pretty. Some might call her 'plain' and 'heavy', but it was really the sturdiness of a strong woman of Germanic stock with generous hip and modest bust, beautiful hands, fine gold blond hair pulled simply to the back of her neck and a clear ivory complexion that absolutely glowed. Her best features were her pink dimpled cheeks and her rosebud mouth.

"I am rarely lonely," she enunciated carefully. "My teaching gives me a warm sense of fulfillment. I enjoy outings with friends, both married and single. I am easy with the men in the church choir, though none seems to desire me. And...I have a feeling of being needed...by...by...something greater. I also know for some reason that this, in time, will change."

"Do you know why you left the convent?"

"Well, people say things about possession, but I have never felt this. I think perhaps I have sinful dreams and it disturbs the other sisters. Only this."

"You understand why I am here?"

"My friends say that you will help me grow over my fear of men. Only I don't feel I fear the men, only that, for now, they are not so interesting. And my body, it does not respond so much, because...because I have no energy for this. Though I am no longer a religious my energy is more toward heaven and the good works."

"But you are willing to let me try to help you."

"It seems a bit silly. But yes, you are a nice, attractive man. Of course it is a sin, but my sisters are thinking I need maybe a little sin to stop a bigger one. They think I should make a good mother and I am thirty-four, not so young any more. So, yes, help me to enjoy the men." 

She lived in a very small house at the end of a quiet street, an almost clichéd rose covered cottage. Apparently she had to have her own house because she had been asked to leave her mother's home and an apartment because of her nocturnal "carrying on." I asked to sleep on her couch.

She made me a simple meal of soup and bread and salad and we read a while like an old domestic couple, listened to some Bach and then it was time for bed. 

"You want, perhaps, to share the bed?"

She almost had a twinkle in her eye and Casey was tempted to see if she had just been a bit shy. But he thought, given her history, that he should scope out the scene a bit. And something about her just turned him off, but he could not say what it was.

"That's alright. I think tonight I will just be your guest. We can get to know each other a bit better. Pleasant dreams."

Tiny lines appeared around her mouth.

"I hope so."

Casey stretched out on the couch, which she had made up with a thick comforter. Soon he was dozing.

He woke to the sound of loud whispers from Gerta's bedroom. There seemed to be distinctly two voices, one, Gerta's high Germanic, and the other a lower more gravelly tone. It was almost an argument, and then the Gerta voice began to whine and choke. The bed shook and creaked. Soon Gerta began to moan and cry rhythmically. The other voice echoed hers a beat later. 

Casey beat on the door and cried, "Gerta! Gerta!" but there was absolutely no response. He could not open the door. And strangely, he did not want to open the door. He found his cock in his hand and it was so hard it ached. His balls were squeezed up against his body and he found himself beating his meat as hard as he could.

Inside the room Gerta's voice dropped into her belly and merged with the lower voice. She was moaning for release and Casey wanted nothing more than to fill her with hot juice. As she gave a great cry he came hard, shooting a creamy splatter all over her bedroom door, convulsing until every last hot drop was on the floor.

Suddenly he was terribly sleepy, staggering back to the couch before he collapsed in a deep slumber.

He awoke with a throbbing in his temples but otherwise rested. The smell of bacon and eggs and hot biscuits came from the kitchen. Suddenly he remembered his actions of the night before, but when he got up to pee he saw that the door was clean and the floor was scrubbed.

At breakfast neither mentioned the previous night for some time.

Finally he had to ask.

"Did you have a visitor last night?"

Gerta blushed.

"You can see my dreams?"

"Not really, but surely some have said that you...speak...in your sleep?"

"They have said this...and worse. They suggest I consort with the devil. They...like you...I am sorry...make the messes outside my door, I think to insult me. Do you wish to insult me? I am thinking you are a friendly man here to help me."

Casey was hard put to explain his behavior, but he felt he should try.

"Gerta, I do not wish to insult you in any way. And I wish I could say what happened was purely accident. What I believe is that your...dreams...how can I put this...give you the voice of a siren while you are sleeping. That voice can touch a man in a place that is very basic. It is not your fault."

"Oh, but it is my fault. Even my prayers do nothing. I am at wit's end. You must help me!" She reached across the table and gave him a huge kiss, a kiss she tried to make deep and passionate, but it became sweet and sisterly the minute it left her lips. He felt wrong embracing her and she knew it.

"Oh, I am so sorry. I know I disgust you."

"Not at all. You are sweet and loving and deserve to be fully loved and I will help you do that. I promise."

"You can do this?"

"I will try with all my might."

That night he set up a video camera in Gerta's bedroom and ran the cable under the door to a monitor. He had her leave a bedside light on. 

A loud noise woke him and he glanced at the monitor just in time to see Gerta sit bolt upright in bed, eyes wide. Then one hand knocked the lamp to the floor and something kicked the camera tripod over. The noises began. Casey darted for the shower but even with the door shut and the water on full blast he came, twice, all over the tiles. At least this time he could clean it up himself.

He was truly spooked and truly determined. Time to give it his best shot. That afternoon they went for a bicycle ride together all through the greenbelt on old railroad rights of way and down maple shaded bike paths, They didn't talk much but enough to develop a warm buddylike friendship. He took her to a simple Italian restaurant in the North end and they laughed and played with their food and drank lots of chianti. Gerta was glowing. 

They returned to her cottage arm in arm and just naturally headed for the bedroom. He carefully undressed her, which was simple because she was wearing just a loose colorful East Indian print dress. When she was naked he was actually a bit in awe. 

Her body was like a Renaissance painting, not pillowy like a Reubens but rather plump and firm. The pink and ivory that graced her cheeks flowed down her shoulders and swelled over her breasts, belly, and hips. Between her strong thighs there was a generous thatch of curling gold. 

Some women might consider it an insult, but he was filled with the strong conviction that here was a body just made for bearing children. It was more than conviction, it was compulsion. At that moment he was absolutely convinced that it was his sacred duty to fill this beautiful body with his seed.

He hardly knew how his clothes came off, but in a moment he was naked and his cock was tilting up at an angle it hadn't seen in years. He took her by the shoulders and moved her toward the foot of the bed. He just wanted to empty himself into this magnificent vessel. Her shoulders seemed to burn under his fingertips.

He thrust himself against her and crushed his lips on hers...and immediately felt like vomiting. His flagstaff flopped and he dashed for her bathroom where he spent the next half hour "worshipping the porcelain goddess." 

He was curious that not once did Gerta come to comfort him or even ask after his health.

When he finally emerged, weak and ashamed, he saw why. She was fast asleep in bed, the covers up to her chin. He bent to kiss her angelic face, felt a wave of nausea and thought better of it. He was tempted to head for his couch, but duty called. Perhaps later, when the effects of the bad chianti wore off, he could "go back to work." 

So he crawled into the bed beside her and pulled the covers chastely up to his chin.

He snapped awake when something huge kicked him onto the floor. It had to be her, a great convulsive kick in her sleep, but it felt like a caterpillar tractor just scooped him up and chucked him onto the cold boards. Above and beside him on the bed he heard her voice as it began to choke and gasp and he tried to rise. 

He couldn't. He wanted to, but he couldn't. Some dark flapping force, very strong but very female had him pinned to the floor. His head was filled with the overpowering scent of lilies. And then something began to eat him alive.

There was no pain, just the unmistakeable sensation of being devoured. Something reached into his face and sucked in his tongue. Clawlike hands clamped his chest, and a hot voracious mouth descended over his cock and balls together and began sucking them voraciously. He tried to push it off. Nothing. His whole painful body demanded that he release. A roaring moan inside his ear demanded urgently ... "Give me! Give me!"

He exploded and something flowed out of him, on and on until there was nothing left to give. He felt himself die.

He woke the next morning in her bed. Birds sang outside. The sun was shining. But he felt very, very cold and like he had gone seven rounds with George Foreman. The root of his tongue ached as though someone had tried to pull it out of his mouth. His lips were chapped and bruised and his whole face felt as though it had a wicked razor burn. There were scratches on his ribs. His penis and balls were exquisitely tender and bright red.

Gerta was positively chirpy. She was singing a sweet German song in the kitchen and then brought him a delectable poached egg, whole grain toast with current preserves, dry, crunchy bacon, and strong, fragrant coffee. She sat and watched him eat as she sipped her coffee from a large French mug with a bumblebee on it. Angelic, the picture of innocence.

He hated to spoil her mood, but he had a job to do.

"You dreamed of...him...again last night." Her face fell.

"I...yes...I am sorry...perhaps I talked loudly in my sleep. I am so sorry if I kept you awake. I was thinking...hoping...we...?

"I'm afraid not. But I did stay awake. I am pretty sure I spent my night on the floor. 

"Oh I am so sorry! I hope you were not very cold." " Well yes and no. Much of the time I felt quite hot because someone, or some thing was on top of me."

"Well then perhaps we did...?

"Perhaps. I would like to believe it was you who was ravishing me all night. At least then we could work on...changing your style, your technique."

"Pardon?"

"You...it...was not at all gentle."

"I am again so sorry. Perhaps if you had waked me..."

"I couldn't move, and besides, I have a strong feeling it was not you...technically. Of course I may have been hallucinating, but I would swear you were on the bed the whole time, and you were very...busy."

She dropped her cup and the coffee spilled all down her clean apron. She began to cry. But when he went to comfort her the giant wave of nausea hit him and he made a quick break for the bathroom.

It would have made sense at that juncture to quit the whole business. He had not signed up to go mano a mano with Old Scratch, but rather to coax an angelic lady to kick up her heels a bit. But his fighting spirit was engaged. So he made a plan.

He went to a little shop he knew called The Beast's Den and got himself a leather outfit. Not one of the 'dungeon master" variety but rather one of the kinky slave variety. From the bottom up: heavy boots, tough leather pants, a heavy codpiece with metal studs and a lock, a one piece leather jerkin, gauntlets, and a heavy leather head cover that had only three holes for the mouth and the eyes.

At the hardware store he bought a dozen feet of heavy chain and three big padlocks. At the Salvation Army store he found a huge chair, almost a throne.

That evening when Gerta came back from teaching school he sat her down, showed her his equipment, and outlined his plan.

"Now Gerta, please help me in every detail and perhaps I can help you. Here's what I need you to do. I will put on this leather outfit later this evening. I will put this heavy chair in the corner of your room. I want you to chain me very securely to the chair with these locks. Once they are in place neither I nor you should be able to loosen them. Once I am locked up I want you to hide the key in some very distant part of the house, no, no, I insist, somewhere very inconvenient. Then you can go to bed."

Gerta looked disappointed. But a twinkle was in her eye.

"Oh dear. When I saw this I was hoping we were to play some, how you say, 'kinky' game."

"Sorry to be a party pooper but my hope is for no games at all.

Casey didn't get his wish.

Gerta dutifully locked him to the chair and went to hide the key. She laughed sweetly when she returned to see him sitting "like a licorice prisoner" in the corner of her pink and white bedroom. Playfully, she undressed in front of him, giving him a quick glimpse of her plump pink haunches as they disappeared beneath a simple white cotton nightgown. 

"Goodnight, my funny guardian," she whispered as she gave him a quick peck on his leather forehead. She left the light on the nightstand on, climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep, her arms neatly folded on her bosom. 

The antique clock on the cupboard chimed the quarter hour many many times before there was any change in her demeanor. He was hardly sleepy. The pain of the chains around his arms and legs kept him awake and his heart raced from time to time when a rushing of wind rekindled the memory of the night before.

Finally, the wind began to rise and whistle around the house. Gerta's head began to toss on her pillow. The sound of the wind dropped to an angry moan and Gerta began to mumble. Her hands twisted the sheet and her legs twitched.

Suddenly she sat bolt upright her mouth stretched as wide as it could go. Her eyes were turned high up into her head so nothing but the glistening whites showed. Her head jerked from side to side as though she was listening for something and then stopped still, staring sightless right at him.

She was on him in an instant, her ghastly face an inch from his, her hands like claws snatching at the chains, rattling them, shaking his whole body from side to side, clawing at the leather, leaving deep grooves in it with her nails. 

She climbed all over him, looking for some way she could pry this dark casing open and get at the choice meat inside. Her hair was wild and stringy with her own sweat. She snarled from deep in her belly.

She placed her mouth over the breathing hole in the headpiece and inhaled.. All the air seemed to leave him. Finally, she stopped and Casey, on the edge of blacking out, gasped like a fish on the dock. 

Turning meekly, zombielike she sat on the end of her bed. Suddenly her nightgown split down the center, exposing great welts from her red throat to her pubic bone. Her head jerked upward as though tugged by the hair. Her eyes, her nostrils and her lips stretched wide as though to accommodate some huge penetrating object. 

Her head rocked forward and back, again and again. From her constricting throat came the most ghastly gagging sounds and copious drool ran over her lower lip, down her chin and dripped glistening on her breasts. Her nipples were puckered tight, deep rouge and as hard as wooden beads.




Doctor of Desire Ch. 03



In the blink of an eye she was hurled backward onto the bed, pressed deep into the mattress. She struggled, twisted, writhed, clutching at the air. Her powerful legs kicked in every direction but she was pinned to the mattress, pressed into it by some heavy, invisible weight. Her heels dug in and she curled her toes deep into the quilt. Her knees flexed and glowed white with effort. 

Then her hips began to lift, rhythmically pumping, higher and higher, her thick buttocks clenched tight and shaking at the top of each lift. 

All the time she cried out in a singsong moan like an alien language. At first her cries were high, shrill, as though frightened. But soon the sounds descended into her belly, growing more harsh, masculine, animal-like, hungry, yearning, longing for release.

With her mons press high in the air Casey could see all too clearly that it was thick, swollen, deep scarlet and absolutely drenched with slick fluid. But most shocking of all was that both her cunt and asshole were stretched wide open, pulsing as though filled with two huge thrusting organs. 

Noisy sucking sounds filled the air. This incredible ravishment went on and on. At times it would slow to a simple rhythmic pulsing, but then she would begin rocking hard on her heels and pushing her hips toward the ceiling again, her buttocks, high off the bed, clenching so tightly the skin gleamed white. Her belly flexed convulsively and her heavy thighs shook and quivered with her efforts. 

Her face was unrecognizable, beet red, mouth agape and working as though it choked down a huge tongue.

Finally, with a scream that must have been heard ten blocks away she went into her last convulsion, her teeth bared, wet hair flailing, sending a hail of droplets all over the room. Her body made a high arc above the bed. Out of her open vulva gushed a perfect waterfall of thick fluid, drenching the comforter. 

Then she collapsed and was instantly in heavy slumber, even snoring lightly. Her face was entirely peaceful, pink cheeks only slightly glowing above her sweet, cupid's bow of a mouth. Somehow she had managed to compose herself and pull the covers over her. There was almost no sign of the monumental tryst that had just occupied the room. Only a deep lingering odor at once evoking some huge fertile flower and the deep decay of the underworld.

The wind around the house seemed to roar in reverse, becoming more and more faint like an escaping tornado until the air was filled with amazing silence. Three crickets chirped outside.

Casey woke as his chains were being unlocked. Gerta, in a fresh, pink dressing gown looked the picture of the helpful nurse. There was great tenderness in her gestures. When she drew the leather headpiece off she kissed him, just lightly on his sweaty brow. He braced against the feeling of nausea. It never came. 

Instead, a wonderful warm feeling slid down through his body. It seemed to evaporate all the aches and pain of a long night sitting on chains in a hard chair. He even felt the delightful rise of a small erection. 

When she helped him off with the tight leather pants her arm brushed casually against it, sending a nice little jolt of electricity into his belly.

"Well. You are still healthy after your long, watchful night. My handsome bodyguard. I think you protected me well. I feel the great weight lifted from me. My prayers seem to lift easily to God. Thank you."

He didn't want to spoil her charming mood.

"I did as best I could, under the circumstances."

"Well, happily, or sadly I will not need your services after this night."

"Are you sure? What has changed?"

"Well, it was only a dream, but in that dream this...spirit that has visited me so many, many times...this spirit said goodbye. It was even a little bit sad, though he was never a very kind spirit. More...devilish in his way. So I think these noisy dreams of mine are over. Sure of it." Should we celebrate? I have something planned. For, you see, this is my birthday. I am thirty-five years today. But no, you need not find me a gift. Because, you see, you are my gift. This morning I will make you a wonderful champagne brunch. I will make your favorites, popovers with current jam, poached eggs sprinkled with parmesan, smoked salmon with my special mustard sauce, French roast coffee, papaya-grapefruit juice. This will be good?"

"This will be perfect." Casey didn't know how she found out all his favorites, but at that point he was beyond asking for logical explanations. He took her face in his hands and kissed that cherubic mouth and it opened and invited the tip of his tongue, and his balls all of a sudden were aching.

She pushed him away.

"You go get your shower. You smell like nothing I have ever smelled, but I don't want to smell it again in my house, thank you."

The shower was wonderful, the brunch was heavenly, followed by a short nap on the couch. 

He woke to find Gerta watching him and he pulled her down on top of him and filled his mouth with her mouth and took her thick handful sized breasts firmly in each hand.

"Gently, gently, they are not used to such bullying."

He tenderly kissed and licked around each nipple, puzzled that these pink strawberries could be the same hard purple cones he had seen the night before. It was not easy to be patient. 

At first he thought it was just the erotic infection of watching her in the throes of passion the night before. But that seemed very far away now. No, this had something to do with her smell, and the feel of her skin and the taste of her breath. Some deep, deep natural urge was compelling him to impregnate this woman, to fill her with his seed, to start the first of many children that would grow in her body.

But he knew he should not be her mate. Curiously, she knew too. At the moment when she had taken his organ into her mouth and sweetly but skillfully pulled at it until he was hard as whalebone, and she too in his hand was swollen and slippery, she materialized a condom, a featherlight thing that she slid on him with a quirky smile.

"I would much rather have you in me naturally. But that was not our understanding. And even though this is not in my religion I know it is what we should do."

As he held her large, strong buttocks in each hand she slowly lowered herself onto him. Given what he had seen, he was surprised to discover that she was as tight as a woman should be who has never known a man. For a while she was quiet and then he felt the muscles in her inner thighs begin to flex. Her vagina seemed to pull him in and he was pleased to discover that he could press in all the way to his balls. 

Soon he could tell that she had found her groove, that he was touching her within in just the way she wanted to be touched. He was happy to let her do the work as her buttocks clenched again and again, her breath growing shorter and shorter until she could hold it no longer.

"Oh, YES!" she cried from deep in her belly and he could feel warm liquid release around his cock. "Give me! Please, please GIVE me!" She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to her in a kiss that seemed as deep as the sea.

It was not easy to hold back while she churned against him, his balls were blue, but he knew what he wanted. Without leaving her body he flipped her onto her back and pressed her legs against her chest. It was a rare treat to have a woman so tight and so deep. He knew he could come into her all the way without causing her pain.

He began to jam. More than once he had to resist the urge to rip off the condom. He desperately needed to give her his stuff. He bore down and pounded away relishing her deep moan each time he thrust in and the higher one as he pulled out. 

He closed his eyes and he became the dark, raw hairy beast that needed to take her so badly. He let the roars come out of his mouth. He let himself shake her as he drove in again and again.

Finally, as her rhythms began to match his exactly and they fucked like one organic machine, he knew it was time to let go. He grabbed her buttocks in each hand and clamped her cunt to him as it convulsed with her orgasm. He felt his balls release and the hot juice poured out and he did his damnedest to break the condom and push that seed up into her womb. He spurted over and over until he couldn't squeeze another drop out.

They slept then, the sleep of the well spent and woke in the late evening to the sound of peepers in a light rain. There was something so domestically sweet about the way they were cuddled up together that he knew it was time to move on. 

Reluctantly, they got up and got into their clothes. She made him a roast beef sandwich and a cup of chicken noodle soup. The rain was letting up as they said goodbye on her tiny porch. "I don't know if I really was able to help you. It seems you overcame your bad dreams mostly by yourself."

"Not at all. You gave me one important thing. You did not treat me like I was crazy or...how do you say...a slut. In one way you have been on the same journey. So we are...shipmates...you and I. And I am glad you have slept with me. Now I know I can be attractive to men and that sex is not such a big thing...but very wonderful...yes, very wonderful."

He drove off feeling he was leaving something important behind, but it wasn't as though he should have an ongoing relationship with Gerta. Still, she had taught him something. The last thing she said was: "You and I know that there is something of the devil in everyone, even the most innocent. Only the ones who know this are truly free."

That could have been the end of it except for the 'awakening' he received when he called on the Mother Superior a couple of days later. She was pleased, but not surprised to know that Gerta was free of her "dreams."

"I knew it would end soon of course. It always does on the thirty-fifth birthday."

"Always?"

"Oh yes. Gerta is not the first, only the most recent. I believe he has moved on the Sister Mary Bonifacio. Unlike her usual habit, she has been skipping breakfast. Very unusual for a woman of her heft. No, he likes them young and impressionable. It is not always sex, like Gerta. 

For Mary Bonifacio it is food, I am sure. In her dreams he must feed her the most sumptuous banquets. Food is much less disruptive and actually good for the health of the overweight ones, though we have to watch for anorexia and bulimia.

"So there have been several? You might have told me. It could have helped."

"Six, since I have been at the convent...well, actually seven."

"And what was...your...vice."

She opened her eyes wide, an animal caught in a flashlight beam. But then she smiled wistfully.

"Mine was lust, definitely lust. But I was not a howler like Gerta. No, I would just be quietly overcome with "frisson" as they say on the continent. I must have frustrated him. I was able to convert the feelings to spiritual ones the next morning. He worked so hard."

She shifted restlessly in her chair and Casey realized, all of a sudden that she was looking at him like a woman. They both looked away.

"Now Gerta was different. We knew she had to leave orders because the physical had overpowered the spiritual. She is clearly built for the bedroom and will bear many beautiful children. I hope you taught her well."

"She hardly needs teaching, but I wish her a strong and tender partner, who knows how to fuck like the devil. I beg your pardon."

"No offense taken. We both know the metaphor is completely appropriate."

The Mother Superior then offered Casey his next assignment. But it was about as far from the walls of the convent as you could get.



Doctor of Desire Ch. 04



An Offer He Couldn't Refuse

The Mother Superior had told Casey that "an influential person", a brother of one of her Sisters needed some help with a young person. He wasn't exactly the 'capo di tutti capi' but he was high enough up the food chain that most other people got out of his way. 

Casey's services were supposed to be confidential, but somehow the sisters in the convent all knew and during a family dinner of vegetarian lasagna and 'frito misto' this particular nun had learned from her brother that he had a problem that might be best solved by someone with Casey's talent and expertise.

Maybe that was why certain large men kept appearing in the places where Casey hung out, O'Donohue's Bar, the gym, the dog park, the Stop and Shop. After a while it became pretty obvious that they were watching him. Sometimes he even caught them taking notes.

So it came as no surprise one Sunday when he had just finished his jog in the park and was running in place on the corner of Boylston and Charles that a simple but elegant town car pulled up next to him. Nobody rolled down a window and said, "Get in if you value your life," but the chauffer, a big man with a serious gut and a bulge under his black coat over his heart, got out, leaving the Sunday drivers to honk and pound their steering wheels. He handed Casey two cards. One was from the Mother Superior. It had a small note. "This is the man who needs your help." The other card was a business card. Buon Giorno Trucking. The name on it was (not his real name,) Angelo DiCapo.

Casey discovered, as soon as he got into the car that the man with the slick hair and the pencil mustache on the elegant leather seats was not DiCapo but Ivan Bernstein, DiCapo's lawyer and 'business partner.'

Ivan was chewing on something and regularly rolled down the window to let fly a gob (whether or not a person was outside). He filled in the details as they drove.

"Y'see, this client of mine...this man...well you know he is Mr. DiCapo because of the card, but you must never refer to him, to anyone, even me, as Mr. DiCapo, just say 'the client', OK? I'm gonna draw it up in writing here, once we are on common ground. But general rule. No names.

"Anyway, the client has this other person, a young person, very close, should I say very close to the Client, but the client is, how shall I say, more than a little concerned, because this person, what shall we call her, The Subject, yes, that's good, The Subject, has taken to running with, how shall we say, a bad element, and is perhaps in danger to her person, or her health, or perhaps even the reputation of the Client who is, as I said, very close to the Subject, close enough to have his reputation, how can I say, tarnished, if certain behaviors continue, or, worse, worse, certain members of certain other families, could gain advantage...anyway, anyway, forget that, only that the Client would like you, the Practitioner to guide the Subject back to some, how can we say, more beneficial behavior. Am I clear?

"Not at all."

Casey had a hunch that the limo ride would be the real explanation. Sure enough, they pulled over next to the curb after passing a Catholic girls' school that was just letting out.

They sat for some time without saying anything. The only sound in the sealed car was the cracking of the chauffeur's gum. Bernstein switched his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other and played drums on his knees.

The chauffeur stirred, pointed.

"Yeah, there she is." Casey could tell the lawyer was excited.

A gaggle of three girls was coming down the sidewalk. They were all different and all the same. One had the ruddy tan of an Hispanic girl, her auburn hair in a soft halo around her face. The second girl was Asian with a sheet of long shining black hair down to her ass. The third was European, light olive complexion, her streaked hair pulled up in a raspberry scrunchy, kind of deliberately messy. Their bodies were virtually identical, tight and curvy with impudent busts and long, slim legs emerging from plaid uniform skirts that had clearly been hiked halfway up the thigh leaving an expanse of smooth skin down to the white knee sox.

"Which one is she?"

"Guess." Said Ivan.

It wasn't hard. (Or rather it was.) The Asian and the Hispanic girl just walked down the street, their books clasped to their chests, but the other girl pranced around them, swinging her backpack effortlessly at the end of its strap, giggling, scanning the street. As she passed the car she walked over to the tinted window and checked her look, inches from Casey on the other side of the glass. She dropped her backpack and turned away from the car. Bending neatly from the waist, legs straight she unzipped and prowled in the bag for a long time, coincidentally providing an immaculate view below her shortened shirt of a perfect ass, without a tan line and seemingly naked except for the hint of a pink thong. She turned back to the window with a tube of lipstick and carefully applied it, her lips wide, smoothing the corner of her mouth with the tip of a pinky decorated with a silver star. She slowly licked her lips to give them a shine, placed a sweet kiss on the glass and turned away with the tiniest of winks.

Ivan had placed his briefcase on his lap.

"So. You think maybe you can teach the 'Subject' how to be a lady, kind of a Henry Higgins thing, if you get my drift?"

"Two problems."

"Yeah?"

"My...services...are really tailored to women who are having...difficulty discovering their own sexuality. Now this young lady, and I'd like to accent the word young seems to have no trouble knowing what is going on in that department, rather the opposite. And second...I really don't want to go to jail."

"Howzat?"

"This young person is clearly below the age of consent...and even though Mr. Di...the Client may have some experience in, shall we say, bending the law, I do not. My livelihood, my reputation and, maybe my balls could suffer if this went bad."

"Now, now, now, now. You underestimate the sagacity of my client. This, this is why he has brought me into the picture. Everything is to be strictly legal and on the up and up. I have here documents confirming that the person in question has indeed reached her eighteenth birthday. I have a letter, a very unusual letter signed both by my client and by the Mother Superior, engaging your services as a counselor, a letter which shall remain in my possession unless such time as you need proof this is the real deal, and of course a fee, in Benjamins, 25 large upon signing of the contract and 25 upon satisfactory completion of the project, the subject having returned to a more respectable life style as confirmed by the Mother Superior and two other persons of respectable reputation as you and she shall agree on. Is it a deal?"

"Two things."

"You already had two things."

"Well, one of them is the same thing. This work is not..."

"Casey...may I call you Casey? Call me Ivan. Here's how we figured. We know who you were up against with the nun thing. Now that was not a matter of a shy broad needing some confidence. That was going head to head with Mr. Bad himself. So we surmised that if you could pry a sweet lady loose from him..."

"But that was different...and I didn't..."

"Not the way we heard it, and we are counting on your talent to resist. Trust me, and this goes no further than this car, this kitten can melt strong men. So, have we got a deal?"

"The other thing."

"Oh, yes, the other other thing."

"What happens if I refuse?"

Bernstein sat back in his seat and looked at the ceiling. The toothpick snapped between his teeth.

"Now that could be difficult. Y'see, the kitten is kind of, how you say, already out of the bag. You know a name. You have seen this Subject. You could say something we don't really want said. And we know where you live...and work...and eat...and shop. It is a fine, well paid job. Half of the city would die to be in your...pants...for free. I think we have, how you say, 'crossed the Rubenstein'. Ain't no going back."

There was a serious cramp between Casey's shoulder blades. It wasn't from nervousness. Something hard and metallic pressed into him through the seat. 

"The Client really hates to install new upholstery. This is Italian leather, hand dressed. Do you need time to think about it? No? Good. Then we got a deal."

Bernstein extended his hand. Casey hesitated. All this could be bluff. The chauffeur turned in his seat. His hand was under his coat. Casey shook the lawyers hand.

"You got gas?"

"Something like that."

The lawyer stuffed a small slip of paper in Casey's pocket. "Here is an address. South End. Three weeks. Saturday night. Your move. You'll want to be there not too early but not too late. The bird likes to fly."

Seconds later Casey found himself on the sidewalk again near the Haymarket. The towncar was just another set of tail lights in the distance. He was sweating, as though he had just finished his run.

From the first time he saw the Subject he knew that he could not woo the girl away from her fast life with sweet talk and genteel seduction. Maybe that would work with some innocent, milk-fed Minnesota farm girl. But this was no naïf. This was a "been there, done that" girl. He would have to push the edge with this one.

His hair had been a bit long when they made the deal. He grew it longer. Dyed it black with blue highlights. Grew a devilish chin tag. Went ahead and had a silver skull with ruby eyes plugged into his left earlobe. Did a nostril diamond, though it felt like shit. Knew he should get a tongue stud and a penis tattoo but chickened out. Distressed his leather outfit even more. Painted a skull insignia on it to match the temporary tattoos he got for his belly, his back, his arms, his cheek. He sought out and hired a couple of old friends, big guys he used to play Rugby with in college. Told them half the truth, that there was this very young chick he had a jones for and she liked it crazy and dirty and was into a scary party scene. He would carry their tab, pay them a daily and take them to some wild places. For this gig they were Duke and Darin. No questions. No answers.

They were a lot easier with it than he was. They "duded up" too. One did a pirate thing, the other, Yakusa.

They all bought bikes, old bikes. Casey's was an antique Indian, with the wide saddle. His buddies had high rise Harleys.

No guns, only some interesting sharp things.

You could hear the party from down the block, the minute the hogs cut out. It hammered against the glass and steel of the high rises around. Somebody must have paid off the locals. When the door to the private elevator opened into the penthouse lobby the sound hit like a sledgehammer. The little lobby, all mahogany and gilt, was filled with bodies. A blonde with very long hair, red eyes and a runny nose had one foot up on the ashtray next to the elevator. A guy with a ring in his nose was giving it to her right there. She made howling cat sounds between tokes on her reefer and sips of her martini as he did it.

Casey and his Krew marched in the door in step, motorcycle boots crashing into the expensive parquet. Hardly anyone even looked up. Casey scanned the room for his Subject. Impossible. The place was literally jammed from the gilded mirrors to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. 

"Any more people come in here those windows are gonna pop right out." 

He grabbed a skinny long-haired kid by the scruff of the neck.

"I want you to get me a very tall, cool drink. It's gotta have ice, but not too much ice, orange juice, but not the whole tree and seltzer, but not the whole fountain. Three fingers of gin. My fingers. With a twist of lime, not lemon. I want you to bring it back to me soon, and don't you even think of ducking out. My boys are watching the door. And if I don't like it, it goes down your pants, so make it right."

He pushed the kid away and grabbed the first attractive woman he saw, a thin girl with gypsy eyes and a dragonfly tattoo in the middle of her back.

"I need to dance. Can you dance?"

He looked her in the eyes over his gunslit sunglasses. 

"Oh yes, you can do a lot more than dance. You can tie those damn long, skinny legs in knots. Show me. Show me what you can do."

He took the girl's drink and swallowed most of it, ice and all while he stared at her.

"C'mon! C'mon! That nothing! That's cherry ass. I want to see what you can give me. Get those arms up over your head. Move it!"

He could tell that he had the woman scared, but also turned on. He came in close behind her and pulled her swiveling hips into his lap, clapped his hands on her breasts and pinched her nipples hard.

"Work it, dammit! Work it!"

He was clearing the center of the room so he and the girl had room to move. She was dancing as hard as she could, thin hips undulating like a snake. Circles of sweat appeared under her arms. Her forehead and upper lip glistened. He slid up beside her and let her dance over his bent leg, grinding on it. He put his hand on her thigh and slid it up under her flouncy skirt. In one swift tug he snatched the black lace thong right off her body. She hardly noticed. The guy came back with the drink. He grabbed it in mid air and took a gulp, spilling it on the guy's head. Jerked the girl to a halt and handed her the drink. Signalled to Duke.

"You take good care of her, OK?"

Duke was happy to oblige, dragging the gal off, wide eyed, looking back over her shoulder with confusion at Casey's back. Casey collared the long-haired kid again and commissioned another drink.

"Scotch, neat, on one ice cube. Lots of it."

Skillfully he 'ate' his way through the room, snatching the most attractive women and telling them what he wanted. He had spotted his quarry. He knew she would not be milling around with the hoi polloi. This was a princess. She was curled up on a banquette in a windowed alcove. A Goth guy with a Manson face was leaning into her, whispering. He was also her connection apparently. At one point he saw her dip her finger into a little black caldron the Goth had on a black chain around his neck attached to a spiked collar. She rubbed a little on her gums. Sniffed a bit into each nostril. Nodded to the dude. Who shook a line of powder in the crack between the middle fingers of her left hand. The hand, palm up, disappeared below the hem of her pink silk skirt. Casey saw her lift her ass a bit and a moment later her eyes closed and her mouth dropped open. She shuddered and then opened her eyes half way, a sleepy smile on her lips. The Goth took her now shiny fingers and sucked them like a double popsickle.

Casey had been dancing with a heavy blond, the kind whose ass and tits wobbled inside her clothes at the slightest movement. But she didn't have a sloppy butt. It was high and tight, a dancer's ass and she knew it. She was quite plastered and crazy with the music, pumping her butt backward into Casey's groin and doing the doggy as best she could right there on the dance floor. He could tell from the flush on her cleavage and the way she kept flipping her hair that she wanted him to drag her away and do her.

He grabbed her by the hips and wedging his semi stiff into the generous crack he steered her across the room to where The Subject was curled on the window seat. 

"Bend over!"

"You're going to do me right here?"

The blonde was titillated, but also in shock. He figured she had never actually been fucked in the middle of a party.

"I'm getting you ready. Put your hands on that girl's legs."

The blond obeyed and The Subject's eyes widened a little bit as the heavily panting woman leaned into her and placed a hot hand on each thigh. Her thick breasts bobbled loose and Casey figured the Subject had a clear view to the blonde's navel. Hands firmly on her hips, he ground into her in time to the music, sometimes bending forward to squeeze one of the heavy melons. But the whole time he kept his eyes drilling into the eyes of the Subject.

He felt the blonde's legs begin to quiver.

"I think she's ready," he growled at the Subject. "Can you help her out? Just a tiny sniff of your blow. Do it."

Without taking her gaze from his face the girl dipped her finger in the pot offered by her Goth, who had been acting as though nothing was happening. She placed her sugared finger just below the nostrils of the panting woman, only inches from her own face.

"Wait. Wait. Now."

Casey felt a quiver as the drug hit home. He took his right hand off her hip and slid it back and under her hem, flicked aside the damp thong that barely covered her sweet spot and slid his middle two fingers deep into her. Hot juice poured into his palm as he churned his fingers in the hot swamp inside her. Her hips bucked against his hand and her neck arched back toward him. He buried a hand in her thick blond curls and pulled. Her garish red lips were wide and her eyes rolled back in her head.

Casey placed his chin next to her ear and growled.

"Kiss her."

He was speaking to both of them but looking at the Subject. Their two mouths, an inch apart, met hard.

"Open it, open wide, give her your tongue. Good, that's good. Now help me out. Take her breasts. Yes, up underneath."

The blonde twisted and bucked, owned by the two of them. Casey pushed the tips of his fingers against her G-spot and his thumb tight on her pucker. She shook all over like a dog shaking off water, finally broke the kiss and gasped, deep and loud.

"God! Oh my god!"

Some of the noise in the room stopped for a second, then roared back.

Casey felt the woman wilting in his arms and he gave a nod to Darin who materialized next to him.

"Help this sweet bitch get something cool and a place to rest. Can you do that?

He sat down next to the Subject, making her move, forcing the Goth to leave.

"We need a couple of beers. And quick. We're both hot. Go."

The Goth was in no hurry. The Subject smiled at him.

"My usual, Greenie, and you know what for him." She tipped her head toward Casey.

She took the cigarette he offered and let him light it, took two deep drags and crushed it out on the side of his boot near the sole where he could feel the heat. Felt in her purse for a compact and a lipstick pencil and coolly drew the shape of her mouth.

"Did that get you off?"

Her left hand fingernails casually brushed across his lap just firmly enough to run the length of his half erect penis. His butt clenched.

"Up, but not off."

"She really wanted it. You could have had anything you wanted."

"Yes."

"But she's not what you want."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Too easy. Too loose."

"Not so easy. I know Joanne. You just rang her bell. And her ass is pretty tight."

"You know this."

"I know this. Big. Tight. Ass."

"You switch? Yer kinda young."

"Old enough. And no, I choose my targets."

"And that ass is a big target?"

"Something like that. So what are you doing here, besides Joanne and half the other women in the room?"

"You've been watching."

"I like to watch."

"I like to do."

"Do you? I figured you for a flunky."

"A flunky?"

"Yeah, probably somebody my dad hired to keep an eye on me."

"And how do you figure that?"

"Well, you're not good enough to be bad or bad enough to be good. And your buddies there are clearly preppies in disguise. But I'd like to fuck the one with the skinny waist. He's got serious buns. He's not queer is he?"

"Nah. But I don't think you can fuck him. Not until I say so anyway."

"Mmm, Mistah Gangsta."

"So what's your name. I'm Dirk."

"Sure you are, Dirk the Jerk. Yeah, well D the J, I'm Angelina, as if you didn't know. You call me Gina, not Angie, not angel, not honey, not baby, not babe. Gina, period. And here's your drink."




Doctor of Desire Ch. 04



The Goth had returned with the liquids. Angelina's was pink. Casey's was clear in a very tall glass.

"This isn't a beer, Gina period. I asked for a beer, for us both."

"I don't drink beer, and this is what you want, even if you don't know it. Drink up."

"How do I know the chemist here hasn't spiked this with some date drug that will allow you to rape me."

"You wish. But here, I'll drink some. Satisfy you."

"I'm sure he keeps an antidote handy, but sure. So what is this?"

"Try it."

Casey took a long swallow to show he could hold his gin, or vodka, or tequila. It was selzer.

"What's this pisswater?"

"Just water. I want you sober so you can tell Daddy exactly what I do tonight. Are you ready to go?"

Casey realized immediately that his ruse was blown, but there was no point in bailing out. Better to regroup and escalate the plan.

"Your place or mine?"

"Original, but neither."

"Where then, Greenie's?"

"Somewhere Daddy don't go, nor none of his goons."

"Hmm, I like that, but that's got to be almost nowhere."

"You got that right."

"How do we go? Chopper or yellow shark?"

"Nah, daddy owns every hack in this part of town and I don't like bikes. Too hard on my tender pussy."

"Tender, huh? I figured..."

"Don't figure, just come."

They left the building by a back door.

"This won't fool any of my daddy's spies, but it is a quicker route to the water and I like to jerk their... chains."

"I bet you do."

"This way."

They headed down a very narrow alley. Casey glanced back to make sure his guys saw him go. They didn't.

"No way. I had a couple of my gals take them out. At this moment the one with the good buns should be working them on Shevaun. She will not let him come for another... " She glanced at the diamond crusted watch on her wrist. "... twenty minutes, anyway. She knows how to do that. Your other ... friend is falling asleep in the lap of a woman who he doesn't know is really a man. He'll know when he wakes up with a cock in his ass."

"You are good. Maybe almost ready to take over the family business."

"Don't talk about things you know nothing about. Well, here we are."

They had reached the docks in that part of the North End. A warm wind came off the harbor.

"Not exactly what I had in mind."

"Wait. Go down there."

She pointed at the water.

"You want to go swimming? Or you got some skanky mattress under the pier."

"Go. Climb down the ladder."

He hadn't even seen the ladder. He climbed knowing she could be sending him into a cold oily bath. But at the bottom of the ladder was a small dock and next to the small dock was a shiny black speedboat.

"Get in."

He got in. She didn't bother to put on the riding lights. Nimbly, she climbed up on the front deck and threw off the bow line.

"Throw off the stern line."

"ay, ay, captain."

She took the wheel. He didn't hear the engine start but in a second they were slowly heading out into the harbor. A few minutes later she cut in what must have been the main engines and Casey sat down suddenly as the boat charged forward. Except for the white wake they were invisible, a black boat on a black night on black water. Gina stood boldly, her legs spread, her hair blowing back behind her, her mouth and nose open to take in the wet sea air.

"Pull my blouse over my head!" She yelled back at him.

He did.

"Throw it away.'

He let the wind tug it from his fingers out onto the dark water.

A thick cord with a large black key hung between her breasts.

"Now the damn bra!"

It flew after the blouse.

"Skirt! Rip it off!"

The boat only swerved a little as the fabric escaped her hips.

He removed the thong without asking. But when he started to remove his own clothes she shook her head.

"This isn't about that. Go sit down."

He remained standing and didn't fall even when she cut the boat into a hard circle. He stood and looked at her in profile, staying loose and reacting with his legs as the boat bounced off each wave. She drove, pretty nipples pebble hard in the chilly spray, bouncing lightly with each wave, her tight thighs taking the shock, her fine, high young ass quivering. Casey discovered he had a serious hard on.

"Get ready to jump overboard. Pick up that anchor."

"Excuse me? You're not serious?"

"Absolutely. But I'm not making you walk the plank. It's just that we are almost there and I need you to pull the boat up on the sand and dig that anchor in as high as you can get it. There isn't a proper dock...except you."

"What? Oh, pun. How did you know who...?

"Oh I have my spies. I don't want daddy ever to surprise me. A lot of his surprises aren't so nice."

"Yeah, I'm wonder what kind he'll have for me after this little...adventure. I could be wearing concrete boots the next time I go overboard."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, and I have a lot to say about it. Get ready! Jump!"

The outline of the tiny island had just loomed up in front of them. Casey landed in the cold water up to his waist and all heat below the belt disappeared in a flash. He charged hard out of the water as the boat went slipping by him and skidded a short way up the sand. He dug the anchor deep into the sand and gave it an extra push with his foot.

"No, that's no good. Help me pull it up higher. The tide's coming in and it will just wash it right out."

"Hey! You just jumped right onto the beach. Why did I have to..."

'I needed an excuse to get your pants off.'

"You did? You didn't."

"But you are supposed to be convincing me to be a good girl, aren't you?"

"So, you even know my 'mission.'"

"Well, you're not the first. But the others were ugly old sticks, priests or nuns. Daddy even had one of his 'enforcers' give me a little talk."

"Like that guy could lay a finger on you."

"Wasn't a guy and she was pretty scary. Trouble was I could tell she really wanted me, so I had the upper hand. Literally. And she liked it. I have a very small fist, but my arms are strong. Feel."

She offered her bicep.

"I'll bet you could bench press..."

"You. Come, you are starting to shiver and I have a nice little cottage just up the beach."

The moon was rising, huge and liquid gold over the distant horizon. It afforded just enough light to see what looked like a pile of old driftwood washed up in some short, twisted pines on the far side of the dunes. But Gina took her key and unlocked a huge old padlock that hung from a chain across an old hatch cover. The hatch swung inward.

Casey could see nothing.

Gina, fiddled with something and a flame flared. She applied it to the wick of a simple kerosene lantern with a glass chimney and a warm glow revealed piles of large pillows, a tiny potbellied stove, and a small wooden cupboard.

"Quickly, close the door. I don't want to draw attention...

"It's about here that I say, 'I really shouldn't be doing this.' If, or should I say, when we are found, I am a dead man. My job is to convince you not to do this sort of thing."

She pushed him backward and he tripped and fell on the pillows. They were soft and deep.

"You're right. But I don't want you killed, if you can believe that. I just want my daddy off my neck, to cut me loose. That's why I have a plan, that's why I convinced him to hire you to straighten me out."

"You convinced him?"

"Well, not exactly directly. But certain people, my aunt, the Mother Superior put a little bird in his head. They came up with you...which is perfect for what I need to do."

"And what do you need to do?"

Gina was starting a fire in the stove and pouring something from a thermos into a kettle on top of it. The little room warmed rapidly and she addressed herself to removing his wet boots and socks and pulling his drenched pants off to hang on a hook by the stove.

"I need to convince my father I am a virgin. That is why I am going to fuck you. It's a kind of payment. Then I need you to do two things, in opposite order, I need you to convince my father that you have "scared me straight" and that I want to get married and live a sweet life on the straight and narrow. And the guy I want to marry is this sweet, rich Harvard law student who will pay for my college education and take me away from all this."

"Which is a gigantic crock of shit, I suppose. I don't know if I'm that good a salesman."

Gina had produced a fragrant oil that smelled of sandalwood and she was rubbing it into his feet. The room was beginning to cook like a sauna and beads of sweat dotted her upper lip and temples and a sheen glowed between her breasts, bobbling gently as she moved.

"Gospel. Absolute gospel. That's the problem. He is very real and comes from a very nice family and we have argued about mine and he really wants us both to get away from this. And really, I do too...I'm nuts about the guy."

"You're serious?"

"Very."

She was straddling him now, her tight thighs clenching his legs as she rubbed oil into his belly and chest muscles and kneaded them with her small, powerful hands. The skin on the edges of her palms was just a bit rough.

"Your hands... Karate?"

"Twelve years."

"Hmm. So you could kill me right now if you wanted to and say I tried something."

"Easily."

His cock, which had been growing steadily as it bumped on her belly, wilted a bit.

"So what is the rest of your plan, if I may ask while I am still alive? If you are so crazy for this guy..."

"Two reasons..."

She was massaging his face now and he felt as though he were drifting away.

"...I really am sort of a virgin. No guy has ever really dared do anything, ever since I was fifteen and Sandy LaPorte got his pinky cracked for having his hand under my skirt at a party. All the rest is fake...to keep up my bad rep. So my guy and me, we did it just once and it was too quick, in his limo. So before I lock it up for him, and I'm going to, I want one wild night, on my terms. Thus the set up."

She positioned herself beside him with one leg over him and her breast right next to his face.

"Suck my tit please, now. You are supposed to be the expert. I need you to do all the things all those other guys I am never going to fuck might have done...use your imagination. And one other thing. After we're done, I need you to make me a virgin again. I know you can do it. Stitch me up so pretty no one can tell."

Casey almost choked on the thick strawberry of a nipple that he had been doing his best to swallow.

"Where? How?"

"Here. I brought a suture kit and a couple of bright lights. But let's not think about that now. I need for you to get me really wet."

Casey knew he would not have to work hard at it. Gina's body was slick with oil and sweat but the spot where her legs were clamped around his was hot and slippery with juice and she was rubbing hard against his hip bone as she pulled one breast from his mouth and replaced it with another. 

"Oh...oh...oh...so good, oh please take your time. Your tongue..."

Suddenly she ground her sex hard into his hip and clamped her heel around his legs. His hand on her wet back felt a quiver go down her spine and then shake her all over.

"Damn! I didn't expect to get one already... and such a good one. You are good. You may spoil me for...no, I won't say his name. Oh that was excellent, but I need more, several more, but, what...?"

Casey pulled her hard on top of him and grabbing the tight onions of her ass, slid her up until her damp fur was right against his chin.

"Put your hands on the wall."

He reached up and took a breast in each palm and lifted her just above his mouth. Knowing she was still sensitive, he ignored the swollen pink bud and nibbled, sucked, and licked everywhere else. Her scent was so natural that he grew intoxicated. Then lightly he began to give some attention to the big, puffy outer lips, sneaking a tickle toward the lower rim of the scarlet opening that glistened in the warm glow. With his tongue tip he probed the cavity very gently, stroking the blushing tissues, feeling Gina quiver as he did. He pinched the delicate inner lips between his own, heard her squeal as he applied a bit of pressure and at the same time squeezed the tight nipples in his hands above.

At first very lightly and then with more enthusiasm with his tongue he began to write the alphabet on the hood of her clit. By 'm' she was beginning to push down onto his mouth murmuring little growls of excitement and frustration. He continued to the end of the alphabet and started again, this time in script. An older woman would be gushing into his mouth by then but Gina was young. Young women, even the bad ones hold back.

"Breathe, breathe deep into your belly. Let your hips do what they need to do."

The growls became moans and her hips loosened and began to flex.

"That's good. Let it go."

Casey dropped a hand under her ass and as he slid his fingers between her legs he tickled the little pink dimple now slick with her juices.

"Hey!"

"Easy. I was just saying hello. I won't touch that again, until you ask me to."

"Not going to happen."

"Mmmhmm."

Casey pursed his lips around the shaft of her clit and as he did he slid a finger into the hot opening below it, probed forward a bit until he found the little sponge under the bone. He massaged it and at the same time sucked hard. The tiny pillow swelled against his finger and Gina lost control. A huge, cry came from deep in her belly and her hips popped again and again as salty liquid poured into Casey's mouth. He covered her whole vulva with his open lips and swathed every drop from her.

With a sigh Gina toppled backward onto his belly. The back of her head rolled on his half hard cock, encouraging it to come to full attention.

For several minutes they just lay there breathing. Casey admired the tantalizing view of that little pink dimple winking below the ruddy wet lips. It became more visible as Gina rolled over and began to suck enthusiastically at the knob of his cock. She knew what she was doing. Clearly this was a game she had played a bit. But she lacked a certain finesse and her young mouth did not have the strength or depth of someone with a bit more maturity. He would let her mystery man teach her how best to play the skin flute.

Casey slid Gina forward and himself backward until she was sitting in his lap. She had brought his cock into a fine firm state and it was time to do the deed. Casey ran his hands over Gina's back. This was the definition of perfect skin, absolutely smooth everywhere, hardly a mole to dot the surface, only a very fine down to catch the light and provide goosebumps when he gently dragged his nails down her sides.

Sliding his hands under her ass, he lifted her up until her swollen lips were just above his cock.

"Let's go slow now." He coached her. "Take hold of it and put the head just where you want it. That's good. Now I am going to lower you little by little. You tell me if it hurts or is too much and I will lift you back up again."

Casey felt the head enter into the moist heat of her body and almost came. He clenched his balls and lowered her a little further. The thick knob met a little resistance but he let her weight push on. A little pop and the head was inside.

Gina gave a quiet little scream.

"Too much?"

"No, not enough."

"Relax, it'll be easier."

"I don't want it easy."

"Suit yourself, but you are very tight."

"Don't you like that?"

"Love it, but not if it hurts you."

"Don't you want to hurt me?"

"No, it's not about that."

"Hurt me."

"Don't worry, I will."

He lowered her on down and she wiggled her ass to get it around the thick cock. She was sitting on his lap again, cock buried deep in her. She started to lift up.

"Don't move. Just stay like that."

He could feel her thighs flexing, needing to move.

"Just wait. Stay."

"I can't. I'm so full."

"Wait."

He breathed on the back of her neck, took her left earlobe in his tight lips. Nibbled on her neck. 

"Which hand do you use to play with yourself?"

Gina put on a little girls voice.

"Why Doctor Darden, I don't..."

"Right. Which hand?"

"Can't I move? How are you staying hard?"

"Not yet. Which hand?"

Casey clamped a hand on her thigh and pushed in deeper.

Gina groaned. 

"Let's see."

She fiddled with herself with the right and then the left.

"The left. You want me to...?"

"You can help me."

Casey took her right nipple in his right hand and dropped his left to her clit.

"OK, now you control the action. Slide your feet under you unless you work better from your knees."

Gina started to lift off only to slide back down.

She did it again. Casey just relaxed and let his tool be her play toy.

At first she was slow, squeaking as she lifted up, groaning as she came down. Soon the whole business was quite wet but Casey was fighting for control. She was so tight and he could feel the contractions as each thrust shook her. Soon she was bouncing like a madwoman.

Suddenly she stopped.

"OK, discovery. This position is not so wonderful. Feels too mechanical. Can I turn around?"

"Of course. It's your party."

"It is, isn't it?"

Acrobatically, she spun around and lifted a leg over his head without ever letting his cock leave her body. Now she pressed her face into his chest, even taking a bit of skin in her teeth. Kneeling, she began to rock. Wordless sounds poured out of her in a primitive rhythm, building, growing louder. She was working it hard now, owning it. Casey just let his hands rest gently on her hips as she dug in.

When she came she was almost screaming, her teeth gnawing his shoulder, her body helplessly shaking all over. She fell backwards at last, face bright red, nose running, hair sopping wet. Lying on his legs, her horny left hand found the magic button, above the cock still tucked hard up against her spot, flicking, stroking, shuddering and crying until she lay silent and panting. Casey lay back, still locked with her and panted himself.

She woke him with a cup of hot grog. He had no idea what was in it, but it was alcoholic enough and it quenched his thirst and seemed to boost his strength. He was sure that if Gina put her mind to it she could completely wear him out.

"So. Are we done? Do we get out of here before your Daddy bursts in and turns me to fish food?"

"Boy, all my dates poop out on me. We can't leave yet. A couple of things to be done. Remember our deal? You need to do a little operation and you need to fuck me."

"Well, the operation has me a bit weirded out, but I guess that's the contract. About the other thing, though...didn't I...didn't we?"

"I did. You didn't."

"Is that so important?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I keep my contracts. You need to get the whole deal."

"And leave some DNA just in case..."

"The man is smart."

"I don't come through?"

"I make a phone call. The goons show up and I say you dragged me here."

"You drive a hard bargain."

"Right. So shut up and show me what you can drive hard. I need you to be that guy you were pretending to be with the henchmen and the bikes. That was hot."

Casey threw her down on the cushions and covered her, eating her breasts until the nipples were hard and the dark moons around them puckered like...the surface of the moon. He flipped her and drove into the sweet sore spot until she was screaming for the short strokes. He piled pillows up high and plopped her down on top of them and yanking her legs in the air drove in deep. He filled her mouth with his tongue. He bit her nipples. And when his balls ached with the pressure, squeezed a firm young buttock in each hand and let his pinky find that sweet asshole that now was slick with girl-honey. No longer tight, it gaped a little each time he thrust in. She was ready.

"Yes?"





Doctor of Desire Ch. 04



She nodded quickly between pants.

"Yes? Say it."

"Yes!"

With her strong legs she thrust her cunt up against him hard.

"Yes!!!"

Casey screamed as he thrust in all the way to the back. His thick finger dove into the other opening all the way to the knuckle. She rose to meet it.

It felt like a long long time that he poured hot sauce deep into her as she jerked against him moaning on and on.

They both disappeared.

There was a subtle glow on the horizon as they both dove naked into the harbor, relishing the frigid water after the steamy hut.

The operation was remarkably easy, after some ice had reduced the swelling and introduced Gina to another world of sensation. With melting sutures her little "protective net" told the story that this was a young maid untouched by the nasty flesh of men. The Mother Superior and two religious nurses would vouch for it, crossing themselves in wonderment as they left the clinic.

A certain father would gain an upper-crust son but lose his daughter to a different continent and a different life.

Dr. Casey Darden closed another case, successfully and according to contract, although not entirely kosher. From Ivan he received his 25 large, an unsigned letter of gratitude from The Client, and warning never to speak of something that never happened. From the daughter he received two keys: one to the ignition of a slightly battered black speedboat, the other to a rusty old padlock.



Doctor of Desire Ch. 05



Chapter 5: A Recipe for Sex

Gertrude Morgenstern didn't like to go home. The Crestview Memorial Library, with its antique oak tables and tiffany chandeliers was more home to her than the three room flat she rented out in Walpole. Yes, Dandy, her tuxedo cat was there, but as cats went he was about as indifferent as he could get. Oh, he liked to be stroked and fed, but other than that he slept or batted at flies on the kitchen screen.

Gertrude was forty-six and didn't really have any idea how she got to that age. It seemed yesterday that she was sixteen and swimming with the other girls a Lake Champlain. College was spent in the library. Graduate school was in the library and after she got her MLS she had lived in libraries, one in Sudbury, one for a very short time in Philadelphia, and now one in Newton. It was a good thing she liked to read.

She read everything: histories, romance novels, poetry, science fiction, art books, almanacs. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that she had something to occupy her mind. So, yes, it did matter on a particular day what she read because sometimes poetry was too soupy, science was too abstruse and romances too badly written.

Gertrude told herself that she didn't need a man in her life. Curiously, men just seemed to walk right past her. This was not because she was unattractive. Oh, some might cruelly call her 'plain' but that was because she never wore makeup, cut her own hair and didn't pluck her strong eyebrows. But she had clear skin and good posture, above average height, and when she glanced at herself in her mother's old full length mirror she was surprised that the had quite a nice figure, generous breasts and firm hips, and gracefully tapering legs.

She had no flirtation skills whatsoever. Even Alexander Dunkirk, who came in every day to read the Globe, widowed, very polite, well-off—she just didn't feel a need to know him better. It was fine that he was often there and sometimes helped move a poster stand or some such. But she gave him no encouragement. The truth of it was that he did not "ring her chimes." No one did.

Still, her sister, that sweet busybody was convinced she needed someone in her life. But she refused to sign up with an Internet dating service or attend gatherings designed for "people who are looking." The truth was, she wasn't looking. Her books and the occasional film from the library connection provided plenty of "conversation."

But to humor Beatrice she had agreed to meet this youngish doctor who B had said was a "relationship expert." Well, nothing ventured, though she wasn't really interested in the adventure. Perhaps he could suggest some good reading on social relations for mature people and she would come to know herself better.

She had just finished dusting the display cases when the appointment arrived. She knew he was the sort of person she should find attractive; tall, slim, yet muscled, a sprinkle of gray, a friendly smile. Nothing. A nice man.

"How do you do, Dr. Darden? So pleasant of you to come. I thank Beatrice for looking out for me. Yet I fear you may be here on a futile mission. I am not a lonely spinster pining for true companionship. But still, I'd be curious about your opinion of the prospects for someone like me, who, to herself, seems quite comfortable and content."

Casey smiled. This should prove to be much more relaxing than his last couple of clients. No devils or Mafia here. He stifled a yawn. For the first time he felt like a gigolo, hired to spice up the life of a woman "past her prime."

"I don't know about that."

"Excuse me? About what? I must have been wool gathering for a moment."

"You were thinking that this assignment might be boring."

"No, well, I..."

"Well lets just 'start at the beginning' as the caterpillar said to Alice. I think I have the capacity to be a rather charming and well-versed companion. We can have some good dinners on Beatrice's dime. She and her husband are loaded. We can talk about topics all over the map and I can point you at some good reading and you can give me some tips on how to be more sociable. I don't think I'm neurotic or psychotic, so there isn't much work for you there."

"You think I'm a psychotherapist?"

"Well yes. That was my natural assumption."

"I'm not."

"No, oh dear, I'm not ill in some way, and..."

"No, not that I know of. In fact, I checked with your PCP and your gynecologist and you are delightfully healthy and fit for..."

Casey actually blushed.

"...a woman of my age."

Casey sighed.

"Yes."

"Then please, may I ask, what is your specialty?"

"Well, Miss, Ms..."

"Gertrude."

"Well, Gertrude, I could bamboozle you with euphemisms, but I think you would see through them quickly. My specialty is sex."

"Sex? Sexual disfunction?"

"Oh I am trained in that, but actually I focus more on helping women, and their partners, have a more fulfilling sex life."

"A surrogate?"

"No. I don't think of it that way."

"And how do you think of it, Dr. Darden?"

"Casey. Perhaps as a therapist, a sort of specialized physical therapist."

"And Beatrice and you think that I am frigid, and need to get "sexed up" so that I can attract a man and 'be fulfilled,' or at least filled. And you are here to roger me until my motor kicks over."

"I'm sorry. Perhaps we have made a mistake. Clearly some people are quite contented with little or no 'libidinal activity.' You may be quite comfortable pleasuring yourself and have no need for the messiness of a companion."

"No."

"Excuse me? Perhaps I should go."

"I'm sorry. You clearly have a lot of insight into this subject. Perhaps indeed I am one of those people who need not "stir the waters" in order to be content. But you need not hurry off. I know that Beatrice has good intentions. She is a randy soul and perhaps misses having a sister who can share her little stories. It is just that I never have found much of a place for it. If I want romance I read my books and they lift me up without a lot of fuss. So, no, I don't practice autoeroticism and have always found the practice a waste of time that could be spent on expanding the mind."

"The most erotic organ."

"So they say, whoever they are."

"Well...Gertrude, I would not presume on you."

"Oh I'm flattered to be 'on a date with an attractive young...ish man, but..."

"You don't think I should try to jump your bones."

"Now there is a colorful phrase. I wonder at its etymology. But thank you. However, why don't I learn what I can in my own way?"

"Excellent idea. Why don't you make yourself up a reading list, not too dry. That would not be the point, but including some works like the fascinating history of the electronic vibrator, Delta of Venus, Henry and June, Lady Chatterley, more explicit than bodice rippers. The objective is two: Discover if you truly have any curiosity about the subject and if so, what about it fascinates you. Also, be kind to your body. Schedule a massage or a pedicure. Be a little self indulgent, and if you are tempted to explore your own sensations, see if you can do it at your leisure and without guilt. Does that work?"

"Dr. Darden, Casey, it seems you have a plan that I can be comfortable with. But is that your full contribution?"

"Well Gertrude, it could be. I'll leave that up to you, though I'll tell you what...do you have an email address?"

"At work. I really don't want one of those things at home. I like my home organic: plants, cat, books."

"Good. Well here is my card. If you have any questions from your reading or just want to discuss something, send me an email. I won't bother you otherwise."

Gertrude Morgenstern felt just a bit wistful. Here was an opportunity to spend some time with an attractive professional man with excellent manners and she had sent him packing. Still, she had her life. Men had a way of being very demanding and expecting you to scuttle after them. Certainly her father had been that way. He treated her like a scullery maid and then after his stroke like his personal nurse. Bea had rebelled and had gotten away from it. Hmm, old baggage. Well, perhaps it was better to bring up and throw it out, better than being old baggage.

Gertrude's mood lifted. She had a nice spicy reading list to compile beginning with the suggestions from the young doctor.

Rachel Maines published The Technology of Orgasm

Rachel Maines The Technology of Orgasm, Betty Dodson's Pleasure for One, and Solitary Sex : A Cultural History of Masturbation by Thomas W. Laqueur.

Gertrude was curious that he had focused his reading list on autoeroticism. Surely he wished her to discover the pleasures of coital sex. Wouldn't that be the logical objective? And why prescribe such dry tomes when there were more imaginative writings? Perhaps, yes, that must be it, perhaps, he saw her as a dried up old thing incapable of real passion. Perhaps he conceded the battle before it began. 

She was disappointed, but dutiful. If he would have her read these things then she would follow his instructions to the letter. She chose to borrow the books rather than to buy them, using the little nom de guerre she had concocted for reviewing titles that the library did not currently possess, Madge Handy.

A week went by, two, three. Dr. Darden did not communicate. She had expanded her list to include a good reread of Lady Chatterly's Lover and Delta of Venus. The Story of O, and of course, Ovid, De Sade, The Decameron and the Kama Sutra. On a whim she aquired a rather rare copy of a Japanese 'pillow book.'

All of this was interesting but little of it actually stirred her. Perhaps she was most stimulated by a fine Japanese painting called "The Fisherman's Wife," which depicted a woman, clearly in the throes of ecstasy, enwrapped around the loins by a huge octopus. Clearly a man's fantasy. Still. She felt a twinge.

The following week the Doctor said nothing, but he sent her a gift package. It contained a small bottle of scented oil, a feather, and a miniature print of the corner of a garden. A cucumber vine wound around a small trellis. No suggestions, not even a greeting. It seemed her sister was wasting money hiring this man.

The feather and the oil, and the picture in its little black stand sat on the mantle above the old fireplace in her bedroom for three days. Then, on Tuesday night, a hot, humid night, she glimpsed herself in the dressing mirror as she emerged from the bath in the nice new cotton kimono she had purchased the previous weekend. She saw her gifts reflected behind her.

She smiled at herself, pleasantly surprised. Her hair she had piled on the top of her head. Of course she was not wearing her glasses. There was a definite flush in her cheeks. The kimono, with its multitude of patterns flowed nicely over her body, clinging a bit where she was still a bit damp. She felt a pleasant twinge in her belly but then was a bit abashed as she realized she was being attracted to herself. A shiver went down her back and she put a hand across her chest as she noticed her nipples tighten under the fabric.

Suddenly she realized that she had been telling herself that she was unattractive for years; telling herself that attraction wasn't important and that passion was a silly fiction. She had taught herself that she was "above" that. A passage flickered through her mind from something she had read in choosing a book for a newly pregnant woman. The author had mentioned that some women were actually orgasmic during delivery, impossible as that seemed.

Something in Gertrude's back and hips and belly seemed to 'let go' as though she was shedding a very fine invisible garment. Her being for that moment settled into her womb. Her nipples tightened again and she took her breast in her hand, something, to relieve a feeling, almost a pain, a sadness, a weakness. With eyes closed she felt dizzy and reached out to steady herself with a hand on the mantle. Her fingertips brushed the feather. She experienced, almost, a shock. A feather! That's all.

She lifted it slowly, staring hard at it. It was simply a feather, perhaps nine inches long, soft brown and white stripes, gentle and downy where the quill began. She drew it across her cheek. Sniffed it. A very mild musk, a way to know it had once been on the body of something wild. She touched it to her lip and there was another small electric charge.

A feather, simply a feather.

The image of Leda, that ancient Greek princess, first meeting with the god Zeus, hidden in the form of a great swan. 

Gertrude kept her eyes closed, fingertips of one hand on the mantle. The other drew the feather across her collarbone, up and down the side of her neck, then slowly drew it, descending on the fine damp down between her breasts. 

That swan brushing Leda's breast with the tip of a great white wing. The flexible neck curving around her throat. 

Her nipples began to ache, they were puckered so tight. She yearned for a touch; a pinch, a soft, hot mouth, pressure. 

The smooth beak with its fine, pointed tongue pressing into the hair behind Leda's ear. The sight of the great winged beast lifting high against the sun.

She pulled the edge of the feather across one tight button. A feather. Simply a feather. The feeling forced a small moan from her mouth, tightened her thighs. 

She opened her eyes and saw a face, close, in the mirror, mouth near enough to steam the glass. The eyes, without glasses were large, liquid, green and hungry. The mouth was strange, slightly open, the lips thick, the upper lip moist, nostrils wide. Who was this?

Her arm was out of focus, taking its own path, pulling the feather down the soft groove that crossed her navel, danced around her navel making her buttocks tighten, continued...

The soft downy chest pressing hard between her breasts. The urgent heartbeat.

Suddenly she had to look, eager to see what would happen. She saw her knees turn out, feet take a firm stance. Her ass clenched and pushed the mound, lightly covered with soft curls, forward and up. In the full length mirror a bit of swollen pink-purple flesh peeked from below the furred triangle. In the soft light coming from the bath a small gleam glanced off a droplet just clinging to that bit of plump flesh. 

"Thank you." Gertrude murmured, almost feeling the presence of the patient Doctor Darden, watching, knowing what she would do.

She lifted the feather and dipped the very tip in the precious bit of liquid, then pulled it upward slowly, oh so slowly until it brushed the little pearl that just peeked out from beneath its tender hood. Something hot exploded. Another silver bead appeared on the lip of the tissues, now raspberry pink.

The huge wings lifting, blotting out the sun. 

She gathered this droplet and again felt that warm rush. A third bead appeared and a gentle itch rose somewhere back and beneath. There were no lessons for this. Gertrude desperately needed instruction, but there was none. A voice in her head whispered, "Just let the feather dance." 

Suddenly the divine appendage plunging into her soft excited pink petals again and again, awakening a mad flutter deep in her belly.

And so she watched, from a very long distance as the feather made her hand and arm weave in front of her belly and the fine spines of the feather gradually grew dark with thick moisture as the quill painted all the surfaces of her swollen petals,

Lost in a mad flapping of feathers. The god's electric sperm surging through every in of her body. 

A cry rushed from her mouth as she crushed the feather to her, pulling her fingers hard up and into the now drenched tissues that itched and ached and sent waves of contractions back into her womb.

She could not stand. Shuddering, she sank to the floor and fell into a warm trance, with no desire to move an inch.

Quite some time later she woke, finding herself slumped against the mirror and hungry for bed. Without tidying up, clad only in her loose kimono, she pulled the covers up and slept as though dead.

The next day, staff and patrons kept asking if she had had a new haircut or bought some new dress. She hadn't changed a thing. She was embarrassed to find Mr. Dunkirk following her with his eyes around the room. At one point she boldly went over to him and asked if he needed anything.

"Nothing." He had replied. "I am just ... appreciative of how ... refreshed you appear this morning. It lifts my spirits."

"Refreshed." A curious compliment. But then, she did feel rested. She was also intrigued. A small package had been delivered to her office. It seemed to be a book. At first she had ignored it because friends and publishers often sent new titles they thought she might acquire for the library. But at lunch she noticed the modest label that read "Casey Darden, M.D." Her belly jumped at the sight of the name. While she was eager to see what her 'mentor' had sent, she made herself wait until after closing. 

She said goodnight to all the staff and retired to her office. Carefully, she peeled off the brown paper and the tissue paper. It was a very small book, graced with an illustration of a blue bowl on a yellow tablecloth filled with a white cream. The title read, "Friendly Fruits and Vegetables. She peeked inside and felt a mild wave of disappointment. It appeared to be one of those old hippie recipe books. There were recipes for Indian cucumber raita with yoghurt, cucumber salad, even cucumber soup. Each little article waxed eloquent about the salubrious properties of the vegetable.

She was eager to get home and do a bit of reading before supper, but maybe not this. But as she was putting the book into her bag a small card slipped out from between the pages. Pleased, she hoped it was a personal note from the nice Dr. Darden. However, it was simply a notation, "page 23." She stuffed it back into the book and headed home. She was tired of his coy help. She would call Beatrice when she got home and tell her to call off her dog.

Warm Cucumber Salad

That was the recipe on page 23. An original concept, innocent enough, although Gertrude preferred her cucumbers well chilled, notching the skins with an apple parer and then slicing the rounds as thin as she could get them. She loved their transparency, the star pattern in the center of the vegetable.

"Select one or two vegetables. You will know instinctively which to choose. Wrap your fingers around the circumference. Ideally, they will not quite meet. However, you may prefer the long slim Asian variety that comes shrink wrapped.

"To make the salad, place all your ingredients in the refrigerator for at least an hour. We recommend fresh mesclun, especially that which includes pungent arugula, large beefsteak tomatoes, small hard radishes, shredded carrot. At the last minute you may want to cube some fresh toast bathed in olive oil. On the other hand, you may barely have the energy to toss the salad.

"Before you wish to dine, mix the salad ingredients in a large bowl, all except the cucumber. 

"Take your cucumber(s) and peel about halfway down the vegetable leaving about three or four inches of the green skin on one end. Some like to leave ridges of skin creatively on the peeled end. We prefer a smooth surface.

"Place the cucumbers on a clean plate with a small carafe of extra virgin olive oil.

"Find a spot in front of a sunny window. Put a comfortable mat or set of large cushions there and place the plate next to it on the side where your dominant hand will be when you lie down. 

"Make yourself comfortable on the mat. We prefer to do this part of the recipe in a large, loose terrycloth robe.

"When you feel relaxed, open the robe. Carefully take the cruet and pour about a tablespoon of oil into the palm of your hand. Some cooks like to massage the palms at this point. Others apply the palm directly to an appropriate part of the body. Still others pour directly from the cruet onto the body.




Doctor of Desire Ch. 05



"When the main body has been gently stirred, add a little extra olive oil to the tender flesh just below the mons. Some stir this area vigorously before adding the cucumber. Others add the cucumber immediately, using it to further 'stir the pot.'

"We recommend stroking it rhythmically on the delicate nub to impart as much of the cool smoothness as possible to the recipe.

"Experienced cooks and even some novices will recognize the point when it is best to warm the vegetable. Holding the cucumber by the unpeeled end, point the peeled tip at the opening between the inner lips. Pull it slowly and gently into the body. When it has reached an interesting depth draw it outward again, almost to the tip. Soon, short vigorous strokes parallel to the shaft often bring the best warming. Be careful. Lateral pressure could break the vegetable and lose some of the warming effect.

"Continue until a generous amount of natural liquid is added to the olive oil. If your technique is good no additional oil is necessary. Some have been so foolish as to add the balsamic vinegar at this stage with disastrous results. (Note: some cooks simultaneously warm a smaller cucumber in the other "pot" at this stage. This vegetable MUST be discarded.)

"When the cucumber and the cook are thoroughly warm, (You can test for doneness by examining the flesh below the chin. It should be nice and ruddy. The nipple area may be becoming slightly less firm and the nub region may be exquisitely sensitive) rise and take your warmed cucumber to a preparation area. It is good if your guests are prepared to eat right away. (However, do not allow them to taste the dressing before it is applied to the salad. See our dessert recipe on page 46, "Warmed melon Au Naturel" for those who enjoy these flavors.)

"Slice the vegetable as you see fit. We prefer a quick, rough chop. Toss the warm cucumber with the cold salad ingredients. Add just a splash of flavored vinegar.

"While some like to share the preparation technique of this dish with their guests, we like having it be our personal secret, enjoying the delightful puzzlement on the faces of the guests as they try to guess our ingredients."

Bon appetit!

By the time she finished reading the recipe Gertrude had little interest in salad. However, being a disciplined soul, she made herself follow the instructions to the letter. The dish was more delicious than she would have imagined. In fact, after she finished one bowlful she discovered she was still hungry and went to the trouble of preparing the dish again from 'scratch.' The second course was a bit of a failure. By the time she finished preparing three cucumbers, none was crisp enough for a salad. Fortunately, the recipe book had a lovely blender soup, a raita gaspacho that just hit the spot.

After the main meal she was feeling both an all-over lassitude and an inner restlessness. Clearly the meal was not finished. On impulse, she called Dr. Darden to thank him. 

"Never have I realized such a useful, immediate effect from a book. I am ashamed to admit that I have largely ignored recipe books all these years. I suppose, living alone, I never felt compelled to cook elaborate meals. However, I must admit, you have stimulated in me a desire to create some lovely dishes. Cooking seems to be very much 'my sort of thing.' I was wondering if I might try out one of the new recipes in my gift book on you."

"Are you thinking of the drizzled chocolate surprise?"

"Well, I hadn't seen that one yet. I was thinking more of the warmed melon balls."

"Yes. I like that one. And just in case we are still a bit hungry, I will pick up some chocolate sauce and large strawberries. What do you think?"

Gertrude hardly knew what to think.

"It will take me, what, half an hour to prepare the melon balls...unless you wish to help prepare them...?

Casey hummed a small growl.

"Why don't you begin the dessert and I will be over as soon as I can?"

"I'll leave the door unlocked." 



Doctor of Desire Ch. 06



Barb wanted nothing to do with him.

"I'm a lesbian for goddess's sake! I don't fuck men. And I don't want you fucking men. You might develop a habit you can't break."

Aylean was taking no crap.

"We're not talking men, we're talking A man, actually, a donor. Once we have our donation we're done. And he's not just any man, he's your second cousin, your DNA."

Barb shook her head, hard.

"Why can't we just do it the usual turkey baster way? How come you have to have dick in you? No matter how great the kid is I am going to have that scene that I am not part of stuck in my mind the kid's whole life.

"But you will."

"Will what? Think about it? Damn straight I will."

"No, you are going to be part of the conception, too."

"You mean they got some new kind of strap on that I can use that will squirt just in the right place at the right time?"

"Hey, that's an idea. We could patent that. Little chamber just the right temperature. Bulb or trigger you can squeeze... I like it."

"But..."

"But that isn't the idea. It's more like a...a...

"Threesome."

"Yeah, I guess...for want of a better word."

"And just how would this ménage work so that I don't get grossed out?"

Aylean was positive that she was at the peak of her fertility that night. Her temperature was right, her nipples were a little sore, and she really was in the mood to fuck. In fact, at lunchtime, in a corner of the warehouse behind some big cartons of toilet paper, she had got herself off so hard she wet her pants. Fortunately an eighteen-wheeler roared into the dock just as she came, because her whoop was that loud.

She had worked the whole thing out with Casey. She was so ready. That wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting Barb ready. The deal was that Casey would not appear until the absolute last moment. A key word and he would pop in the side entrance just in time to do the seed deed and slip out again. Those were Barb's terms. That's what Aylean told Barb was going to happen. 

But Aylean wasn't dumb. She knew men. She had had her time with men and then moved on. But she knew how they worked. A rigid pecker doesn't just come ready-made in the door, full of fertile sperm, ready to spout. A healthy, mature guy can use a bit of warming up, just like a woman. Aylean had offered to have her friend Marcie come over and be a "fluffer' like they called them in porno movies, somebody to get Casey excited. She knew Marcie would pay good money for the privilege.

Casey had nixed it. Too many cooks. But he was grateful when Aylean offered to find a way he could watch them unobserved, a comfortable chair in the corner, half hidden behind a wicker dresser. He would have to wear a big silk kimono she bought just for the occasion, so he would blend in with the Asian flavor of her room décor. He also had to do one other thing. Aylean had other conditions. He had to shave his chest and his legs.

"I feel that hairy mat against my back and I'm gonna freak. You're smooth I can pretend you are Lurleen my ex ex. She was ripped and she was tall and she liked to take me from the back with a nice strapon. It should work.

Everything was ready. Miles Davis on the pod, filling the apartment. Nothing but candles. Aylean got a special outfit for Barb, a little butch, a little femme, suede with lace, a low scooped neckline to show off the crisp lines of her collar bones and the plump mounds beneath them. It worked. But she was not allowed to put it on until Aylean had taken her into the shower and scrubbed her from soles to scalp with a loofah and some natural bath oil. Aylean had considered a nice long, sexy bath, but she didn't want Barb relaxed. She wanted her pumped, wired, ready to spark.

She pinched Barb's round bubs and her tight ass cakes. She scratched her back and she tickled her a.h. 

Barb begged Aylean to get on her knees in the streaming water and eat her box until she squirted and slid down the wall. That was one of their favorite games. But tonight Aylean would allow none of it. She wanted her woman fired up and hard. She wanted Barb to do her best to drill this baby into her. She wanted her so stoked that when the time came for Casey's little donation Barb would hardly notice. She'd be too intoxicated with lust, too damn busy.

"Bitch tease. A little cuntly warm up won't make you crack an egg. Just a taste, please?"

But Aylean would have none of it. She wanted to feed her gal, nothing too fancy, but nourishing, the stuff Barb loved.

So the steak was expensive and rare, so soft you could poke a finger through the soft meat. Barb did it. Picked the thick T-bone up by the bone and poked her carefully clipped middle finger through the meat.

"Suck my rod, honey."

"Aylean boldly took the whole finger into her mouth and sucked the gravy off it until her lips were up against the hot meat. Fiercely, she gnawed right into the steak, leaving a sizeable hole."

"You asked for it babe. But I'm generous. If you don't get enough you can eat some of mine."

They tried to eat slowly, but it was almost impossible. The big salad with thick ruddy slices of tomato and crunchy croutons disappeared in a flash, as did the thick baked potatoes loaded with butter, sour cream and chives. Most of a bottle of Beaujolais disappeared. Aylean fed Barb a large helping of a creamy, obscene tiramisu. Some of it she spooned into the hollow of Barb's collar bones, licking it off as it oozed down her ample breasts.

Aylean was playfully slapping at her gal's strong hands as they tried to sneak into any available crevice even though she was so eager for those firm digits to push up into her, to feel them dig deep into her ass, and squeeze her bubs until the nipples gleamed shiny and tight. She wanted those strong white teeth on her tender nips. She wanted that tongue to dance everywhere. 

But she held Barb off, waiting, listening. It was as though she could feel that tender egg ripening inside her body, as though she knew that there would be a moment, an aching moment when it would release from its little sac and start down to her womb and at that moment she wanted to come. She wanted Barb to come too, both of them lost in a hard-soft kiss that was so deep they couldn't reach the bottom of it.

Aylean had frozen beside the table, the last spoonful of the dessert in her hand.

"What's the matter, hon?" Barb was squeezing her hand.

Aylean filled her mouth with the last bite of the creamy concoction and let it drift down her throat before she spoke.

"I am so ready for this. I'm on fire."

"Come on. Burn me up." Barb growled into the side of her neck. 

Locked hip to hip they moved dreamily into the bedroom, now and again stopping for a deep wet kiss. Finally, they reached the end of the bed. They were totally unaware of Casey waiting quietly in his corner.

Casey tried to keep his breathing light as Barb began to undress Aylean. The two women were so different, and yet there was a magic energy that seemed almost to turn them into one being. Barb was sturdy, but with a dancer's arms and legs, cut, showing smooth, toned muscle whenever she moved. The hair on her head was cropped into a short curly mop, the hair on her bush a neat triangle.

Aylean was gypsy dark, with eyelids heavy and seductive. Her breasts were thick and meaty and crowned with purple domes rising like puff pastry to the marshmallows on top. Her hips were wide and her belly accented by a deep groove that ran from her breastbone down into a mop of dark curls. When she moved her ass danced in all directions.

Barb very slowly drew the strap of Alylean's silky peach dress off her rounded shoulder, kissing the firm flesh as it was revealed inch by inch. As the second shoulder was released the slippery fabric slid down Alyean's dark amber skin and puddled around her feet. Under the dress she wore a teddy as filmy and close fitting as a second skin. Her high breasts seemed to be imitating those of a nursing mother, pushing out against the thin fabric as though bursting with rich milk. 

"My nipples!" Aylean cried with her eyes closed as Barb's hand brushed the left one. Barb could not wait for the silk to be gone. She lowered her head and took the tight cone in her lips, silk and all, mouthing the filmy stuff until it was soaked and tickled and revealed the deep maroon puckered corolla.

Aylean felt her womb clench until it ached, her lower lips thicken and weep until the fabric was slick. Her thighs turned to butter and grew so weak she sank to the bed strewn with rose petals. 

Barb fell on her and filled her mouth with a powerful kiss that melted into a serious tongue battle. Their bodies tangled in a loving wrestling match, each trying to get the top hold, to work the other until she burst under the swift pressure of rubbing fingers and hot mouth.

Usually, Aylean couldn't wait for Barb to go down on her, especially as she began to lubricate. She itched for Barb to cup her strong lips over the whole of her mons, tongue lapping up the thickening honey as it began to pour. She needed to feel Barb's thick tongue dig in and spread the inner lips as far apart as they could go. But much as she needed that hot mouth she wanted that swamp to be slick and fertile and ready for the seed that was soon to swim up into it. So every time Barb's mouth began the descent onto her belly she dug her fingers into the thick curls on either side of Barb's head and pulled her up to disappear in a deep kiss.

Then she took over, surprising her sturdy partner with her fierce moves, shoving Barb back deep into the coverlet, pinning her arms to the bed, eating each nipple until it knotted into a tight bead and the pink carolla around it was puckered tight and buffed red.

Then Aylean dove for her lover's sweet spot, lathering her thick, dirty-blond fur with her tongue until it lay sleek against Barb's tanned skin. Nipped at Barb's inner thighs making her yelp and growl, her hips bouncing up and grinding against Aylean's hot lips. Aylean grabbed a big handful of firm ass. The middle two fingers of her right hand slid deep, reaching, stirring until she could feel her fingertips flick the tight bulb around the mouth of Barb's womb. She knew Barb loved this. Her tight abs bounced with each flick and a kitten snarl came from deep in her chest.

Aylean's hand filled with hot juice as Barb came hard, her hips bucking high against Aylean's hand, three four, five, seven times.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Aylean moaned.

"What are you sorry for you little bitch?" That was the greatest quick one I've had in forever."

"I just wanted us to...you know...get there at the same time. I just wanted this huge, together, messy, wonderful..."

"Hey honey, I'm just getting started. What do you think? Is it toy time?"

"OK, but nothing in...me. I want that ready for the...you know."

"Cunt. But this is your night, you little tease. Still, I won't be easy on you."

Barb slid a silver egg out of a blue velvet sack.

"Will this do the job?"

The egg was Aylean's favorite. Just enough buzz to lift her right out of herself.

Casey, hidden in his corner, was in no big hurry, though his cock had come to attention during the wrestling match and almost gave up its precious cargo as Barb came hard. Now, as Barb sucked on Aylean's thick marshmallow nipples and teased her bud with the silver buzzing egg, just sliding it between the scarlet lips and then pulling it out again, as Aylean's moans went from coo to growl and her hips started working, and lifting off the bed, Casey felt an explosion coming. 

Soon would be good. He could feel the thick semen building up. His balls were beginning to ache. He held his cock tight in his fist but forced himself not to stroke it. The silk of the robe begged to be rubbed up against his aching knob.

Aylean and Barb were crushed into an embrace. Barb's firm leg was pressed hard against Aylean's swollen wet lips. Their buttocks clenched and released in tantalizing rhythm and their cries, mingled with wet kissed began to grow stronger, more hungry, more desperate.

Casey knew his time was coming, as soon as Aylean gave the signal. 

Would she remember? Would he be able to do his part without spoiling the moment? Where were the words? Please! He couldn't hold on much longer.

"Oh! Ooo! Ayee!"

Aylean was losing it. And Barb was crying out so loud it shook the lamps.

"Yeees! Yeees! Fuck yes!"

Finally, Casey heard it, the code word, at first just a murmur, and then loud, and louder, a yearning, a siren's call.

Baby! "Oh baby! Oh, please! BABY, please!"

The two women were side by side, face to face on the bed. Swiftly, quietly but with his wood-hard pecker in the lead Casey slid next to Aylean's ass. The women were in it down to the short strokes, breath coming hard and fast, belly-deep moans smothered in each others' mouths. But as Casey moved his cock against her ass Aylean, almost instinctively arched up and back, presenting a slick purple oval target.

He pushed his cock home and Aylean bust out with a hard cry.

Casey was so full he thought he would pop, but Aylean's tight cunt clutched him and he felt himself needing to work that hot tube. Every time he drove in he felt her cunt clutch him like a firm hand. He felt compelled to pull all the way out and then drive in hard and deep, wedging his balls into Alean's ass, reaching as deep as he could go.

They did a wild threeway dance, six legs tangled, hands grasping at whatever flesh could be pulled tight. Casey found himself stacked on top of the two women. 

Finally, he felt it coming, a dozen sudden, fast strokes and the cream poured and poured into the cup. 

Casey choked off a growl, burying his face in the thick folds of Aylean's hair, his mouth tight against her hot, moist neck. He willed his sperm deep, deep into her womb. At first Aylean's ass crushed hard against him. But then as Barb cried out Aylean jammed forward tight against her lover. 

Casey slipped out.

He knew he was not done. Eager to seal the deal he drove forward again knowing he had some good juice left.

Something was different. Barb let out a hard cry and her eyes and mouth went wide. Casey was ready to pull away, but he felt two firm hands suddenly clutch around his back and then two strong heels hooked over his thighs. A hot mons was grinding against him popping again and again as Barb let out a roar that deafened all three of them her body shaking in fierce frantic spasms. Aylean joined with her own deep wail and Casey unable to keep silent, howled.

Slowly, the three of them shuddered to silence, chuckling at the aftershocks.

Barb was smiling.

"Bastard!" she hissed.

"Accident."

"Right."

Soon, Casey knew it was time for him to go. Barb and Aylean didn't know he exist any more. He was no more than a warm silk bolster on Aylean's side of the bed. They cooed, murmured and kissed. As the women drifted into a light snooze he slipped away to the downstairs bath.

The deal was that they would give it three tries, once a month until it took and Aylean tested positive. After the first try Casey was eager to see what they would do that was new and different. He found his mind wandering to scenes of the two women, both open, both eager.

Fortunately, or unfortunately the first time out had done the trick. Aylean called him a little more than a month later with the happy news. there was a plus on the pee stick. But then she grew more serious. Barb was ill, some persistent flu bug that made her nauseous and throw up.

"Does she throw up mostly in the morning?"

"Yup. You don't..."

"Doesn't want to eat favorite foods? Any cravings?"

"Anything with tomatoes. And whole bags of potato chips. She hates herself."

"Better lend her a stick."

"Not really."

"Really."

The "twins" were born a week apart nine months later. Barb helped birth Aylean even though she was out to there. A week later Aylean returned the favor. Casey would have loved to attend the deliveries but he figure that from then on it was not his province. Aylean had a cute little girl with fuzzy brown hair. Barb had a skinny boy with a dark, curly mop. 

Casey became their favorite uncle.



Doctor of Desire Ch. 07



Ch. 07: His Lucky Star

Casey knew Sol Levine from grammar school back in Southie. Sol was the best stickball player on the block. But they hadn't spoken much to each other over the years. He had seen a headline in the Entertainment section of the Globe mentioning a major Hollywood agent named Sol Levine, but he figured it could have been anybody.

Then Sol called him up. Out of the blue.

"A little bird I know heard from another little bird who knows you that you got this discreet little profession going, where you kind of help out the ladies with, let's say, a certain kind of physical problem, and I figured you could help me out. Not that I'm a lady, though around here you never know for sure who is or was...Well, nevermind. You know I am in the picture business and..."

Casey knew what was coming. Now and again, at a party, when someone figured out what he did, how he helped women get their sex lives back, then he always heard, "Damn, you must have some stories to tell! You could write quite a book, or maybe make a movie!"

So Casey told Sol he wasn't interested.

"I can't share these stories. I'd get sued. There's actually a doctor/patient thing here."

Sol laughed.

"Casey, Casey. I don't make pornos and I don't work with people that do, or at least I don't know if they do. Couple of times I have had to cover up some early indiscretions for a client. No, what I got here is someone who needs your help, bad. And I need your help, too, because she is losing her sizzle and she loses her sizzle she doesn't make pictures, and she doesn't make pictures I don't get paid."

"An actress?"

"You could say an actress."

"And you're telling me this young woman is a protégé of yours...

"Yeah."

"You're telling me she would get more work if she could sort of amp up her sex appeal? She's kind of a plain Jane, good actress but needs some..."

"Not exactly, but close. This young woman, let's call her Jane... Yeah, that's good. Jane Doe. Jane is actually pretty accomplished, pretty well known."

"Would I know this person?"

"Assuredly. Box office. Definitely box office."

"Can you tell me her name?"

"Might not be a good idea right at this moment. The paparazzi around here, and around her, and around me are worse than the CIA."

"So how am I going to give her lessons without them picking up on the whole thing and casting me as her latest, or a male whore, or...?

"We'll have to work that out. Suffice it to say, it can't happen here. For starters, we'll say she is going into rehab."

"And what exactly is the problem?"

"In a nutshell, she is so sick of being a sex bombshell that she can't stand men. She doesn't want to wear anything hot on the red carpet. She doesn't want to make the kind of pictures that, damn it, take advantage of her assets. She wants parts as bag ladies, or junkies or frowsy trailer trash. You gotta help me."

Casey knew this could be tough. What would he do with a real prima donna who expected catering hand and foot? Besides, he didn't totally agree with the plan. If she wanted to be an actor rather than a bimbo, that was her career choice. Still, a plan was beginning to form.

"Sol, do you have some money to burn?"

"Some."

"Ok, here's what I need. Private plane from LA to Bangor, Maine. Hairdresser and costume person on the plane. No mirrors anywhere on the plane. Private vehicle from the Bangor airport to a camp I know. You pay for the camp and the guide. OK?"

"So when do we start burning money?"

"That was it."

"That? That for her is a taxi ride. That is riding lean and mean. That's all you need?"

"That, some supplies and you keep the jackals at bay for two, three weeks. Really bamboozle them."

"That's hard. But that will be fun. There are guys and gals I am dying to lead on a wild goose chase."

A month later, the woman who climbed out of the private jet onto the tarmac at Bangor airport drew absolutely nobody's attention. She had mousy brown hair that looked as if it had been hacked with a saw in the dark. A splotch of thick freckles and blemishes marred an uneven tan. The famous puffy lips looked chapped; and when she gave a shy smile the teeth behind those lips appeared discolored and a bit crooked. The million-dollar ass was well disguised by a pair of paint-spattered overalls. A baggy flannel shirt hid the cleavage thousands of men had spilled seed over in their dreams. 

They simply climbed into the Landrover and soon were winding through heavy pine woods.

Casey shook his client's hand. There was nothing elegant about it.

"Casey...Casey Darden."

"Jane...Jane Doe."

If he had closed his eyes the voice with its throaty growl might have told him who he was talking to but he looked her straight in those amethyst eyes.

"It's good to meet you, Jane. Do you like camping, fishing?"

"I haven't done much of it, but I'm willing to learn, though some people think I'm dumber than a fish."

"Fish can be pretty smart."

"So can I, given half a chance. But I thought I was here so you could teach me how to fuck."

"No."

"I figured some romantic hidden resort, maybe a little rough, a little elegant. Canoes under the full moon. Cocktails by the lake."

"Not exactly"

"Which explains the no makeup and the ugly overalls and why I had to leave all my people behind."

"Yes."

"So where are we going?"

"Fishing."

"Fishing? You weren't kidding. Will I have to stick worms on hooks? I'm sometimes vegetarian."

"No worms. We use flies."

"Flies? I knew they had big ones up here... You're serious? How do they tie them on the hook?"

"Imitation flies, but some guys would tie real ones on if they thought it would catch fish."

"I was dumb."

"No, you just didn't know. That's OK. The whole idea is that you try something you haven't tried before. Are you game?"

Her face lit up with the famous smile, though the funky teeth somewhat dimmed her glow.

"This could be fun!" 

The Landrover pulled up in front of a low building with a small plaque in brass next to the door that read "Aquarius Aquaculture. A stunning redheaded woman was locking the door. She was tall and the haunches she revealed were high and round and separate. She turned and waved and large green eyes sparkled. Her rusty hair, pulled high with a calico scarf bounced with impudent curls. She effortlessly picked up a huge backpack in one hand and tossed it into the back of the vehicle.

Casey introduced her.

"Jane, this is Doctor Mollie MacGregor. She's an ichthyologist and an M.D., so she can tell us all about the fish we will be catching and patch our booboos, should we have any. Mollie, Jane."

Casey expected some sparks to fly when the two women met. After all, Jane had a rep for never wanting anyone who thought she was hotter within fifty yards. They timed visits to the red carpet so no competing starlets were on the scarlet strip. There was the hair pulling lawsuit and the on set catfight and all those extras fired for no reason.

Jane smiled and stuck out her hand.

"Mollie, I'm glad you're here. I thought maybe I was going to be stuck with cock doc here and a bunch of horny moose hunters trying to sex me up in the wilderness. But we girls can stick together against these beasts, can't we?"

Mollie flashed her perfect pearlies.

"I'd like that a lot."

They drove for quite a while, until the sun had set and the peepers and cicadas were loud outside as the Landrover pulled off the road and followed a track where the bushes brushed the sides of the vehicle.

Mollie and Jane were talked out after hours of ignoring Casey and gabbing about everything from nail polish to types of trout. Now they drowsed.

The vehicle pulled into a clearing. Suddenly, looming in the headlights was a tall rawboned figure in a bright red shirt and red-checkered cap. He was holding a shotgun. He smiled and Casey could see it was something he didn't do often. He was putting it on for company, like a stiff, tight suit.

Mollie got out of the car and he stood with the inside of his mouth showing, the barrel of the gun sinking like a stiff limp dick.

She smiled at him and made it worse.

"Evening, Howard. You got everything set up for us?"

Nothing came out of his mouth. His head nodded.

"Great. Can we eat? I'm starved. And this is Jane. And you've met Dr. Darden?"

Relieved, he shook Casey's hand for a long time.

"Can't say I have. Talked on the phone some though. This way, everybody. Ladies' tent over there. Fellas' over here. Keep 'em zipped. There's some flies."

Casey stowed his gear in the large tent and sat for a bit on the folding cot, lantern light casting hazy shadows on the canvas, the murmuring of the women's voices coming from the other tent, the smell of trout and home fries sneaking in the door flap. After a while he went out to join the party.

Chunks of hardwood served as stools around the fire where Howard flipped some lightly battered fish in a cast iron skillet. Coffee bubbled in a pot. Howard pointed at it.

"You got some coffee there, or some beer in a bag in the lake. It'll be cold enough."

Nobody was saying much. They stuffed themselves with hot fish and potatoes and scooped coleslaw from a plastic bucket.

Howard stirred the fire, peered up at Jane who was lit only by the flickering light of the fire.

"Understand you're an actress. I don't know much about that."

Jane giggled.

"It can be fun. You can wear really nice costumes and they have great food on the set usually, although there was this one time when we were shooting in Mexico and everybody was barfing between takes...I'm sorry. We're eating."

"Don't make no never mind. So you do TV and movies and such?"

"That's right."

"I don't get to the pictures much. My cousin George has a TV I watch when I'm in town."

"So you probably haven't seen me on TV?"

"Not that I recollect. You want to tell me some of your movies and such?"

"Not really. You probably wouldn't have seen 'em anyway, and if you did you probably wouldn't like 'em. They're mostly about spoiled rich kids."

"You got that right. Ain't me. Though I got some money put by. One day maybe I'll get me my own camp, or a rig to take folks out in the ocean."

"That'd be neat. You could see dolphins and whales."

Casey was not doing his job. He was supposed to be watching his client, figuring out why she was so hostile to men. But a certain redhead was flirting with him bigtime, a throaty chuckle punctuating her stories about the locals, an elegant, strong finger dancing now and again on his leg.

After a while she stretched, pushing one sculpted elbow high into the air, lifting a generous bosom. She yawned like a kitten.

"Long day. Think I'll splash some water on my face down at the dock, check out that full moon in the dark water and turn in. You coming?"

Casey would have liked nothing better, but he knew it was not part of his job.

"Guess I'll help Howard clean up. We all need to pitch in."

Mollie ran a hand down his shoulder.

"OK, the moon will be around for a while..."

Howard woke them at the crack of dawn the next day. He had water boiling in a big pot. 

"Just for today I got some hot water for you to wash with. Can't promise this every day. Casey you can take this down on the dock and add a little lake water. Big sponge down there I use to clean off the canoes. Y'wanna get clean you can jump in or you can sponge off. Only the bravest jump in. Ladies first. Here's towels."

Mollie went first. Casey felt like a twelve-year-old. He desperately wanted to peek through the bushes that screened the dock from the campsite. Mollie sang 'Summertime' as she washed. She returned with her wet red hair twisted up in a towel, no makeup but gorgeous. As she sat by the campfire to drink her coffee she gave Casey a wink. He was sure she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Jane went next. She looked a little nervous but happy for the adventure. A few moments later there was a splash and then an ear-piercing scream that went on and on. Casey raced for the dock. Jane was nowhere to be seen, but shrieks came from the water. 

Casey spotted two small hands hanging onto the edge of the dock. Jane was trying to pull herself out of the water but she could get no purchase on the slippery wood. Those famous high round breasts were flushed pink with cold, purple corollas puckered tight around bullet-hard nipples. 

Casey lifted her up and clapped a towel around her, rubbing her hard. Jane was dancing and yelping and swearing. She spotted Howard.

"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me it was fucking freezing in there? I think my nips are going to fall off. You could've said something."

Howard was bashful and politely looking away across the lake.

"I beg your pardon, miss. I did say only the bravest..."

"I thought you were just talking about jumping into a wild lake where maybe there are fish and stuff. I wanted to show I was brave. I thought maybe you were testing us..."

Mollie had appeared with a blanket and she wrapped Jane up in it and led her back to the tent. Giggles and squeals came from inside as Jane bundled up. Casey washed himself on the dock from the hot water pot. As he stood up he turned to see Mollie sipping her coffee and watching him from a few yards away. She saluted him with her cup.

"I didn't mean to be rude, but I was curious, kind of like I would be if I discovered a new species."

Casey was only a little put out, mostly amused, flattered and a bit turned on. He showed her his backside as he put on his pants.

"So what kind of specimen am I?"

"Very interesting. Fit. Strong. I was curious how you are 'adapted' to your profession."

"I get your point. But it isn't about equipment, or technique, though I can see why you might think that."

He took the mug of coffee she handed him.

"It is more about figuring out what is missing in the woman's mind. In theory, I might never have to touch her at all,"

"That would be a shame. I'm sorry I'm not the client. So why am I here?"

They sat on a fallen log next to each other and gazed out across the misty water where a loon dove for fish, giving its mournful cry.

"Mollie, I was hoping you could do two things..."

"I usually don't sleep with women, except..."

"That's not it, although I'm not saying lay off..."

"Good, because we were very...comfortable...in the sleeping bag last night. She was kind of nervous with all the woodsy noises, so we zipped 'em together. It was cozy."

"Fine. Step in the right direction. But I was actually thinking of your professional skills. I wanted her to see that a beautiful woman could be very skillful and smart. And another thing..."

"Yes?"

"You notice that there is absolutely nothing glamorous or even sexy about how she looks?

"Yes."

"But you look fine. That's no accident."

"So she's the homely for a change."

"You got it."

"I can live with being sexier than a famous movie star."

"Just don't lay it on too thick."

"I promise. I can be subtle."

She shook her bundle of red curls from the towel, the early morning sun making them glow like a halo. 

Back at the campfire Jane was tucking into a huge breakfast of eggs, sausage, hash browns, crusty bread toasted over the fire. She was bundled up to the chin, her wet hair hidden under a wool cap of Howard's

"Eat up, guys. Howard says after this we have to live off what we can catch or find. You'll have to make your own. He's already packing the canoes."

They ate well, they pissed in the bushes. They put on lifejackets and pushed off onto the mirrorlike water, all very aware of what it would mean to fall in.

The first day Casey had Jane and Mollie share one canoe while he and Howard took the other. It might have made sense for him to share a boat with Jane so he could scope out her aversion to men, but she needed to learn the natural world. He also was eager that she "just be another girl" with Mollie.

He couldn't have cued the wildlife better. Every sort of songbird was courting. In the reeds seven kinds of ducks, mallards, mergansers, wood ducks, loons stirred and flapped and clucked. Mollie guided her canoe just beyond the nesting sites where green-headed males squatted under the tails or broody brown females, fertilizing the next clutch of eggs. 

Along the banks otters squealed and scrambled, tangling around each other so that you couldn't tell where the female began and the male ended. A pair of beaver pumped away next to a high lodge mound. Invisible critters skittered in the underbrush.

The sexual energy was electric, pulsing all around them. Curiously, it didn't seem to affect Howard who quietly piloted them through almost invisible channels between the lakes and pointed out the wildlife with a single word.

"Eagle" "Muskrat." "Heron." "Bear."

Jane shrieked and stopped paddling as they drifted by not twenty yards from a pair of black bears in the shallows. Their faces were smeared with berries. They were energetically humping, the male's sharp claws clutching the sides of his smaller companion, a huge red tongue hanging out his long maw.

Casey glanced over at Mollie and her eyes could have lit a fire, lids half closed, mouth slightly open. She smiled and quickly became professional again, pointing out thick clusters of frogs' eggs to Jane.

When they finally made camp they were all tired except Howard, who threw together a delicious dinner of stew and biscuits. In the growing gloom Jane peered into the trees beyond their sand bar.

"Will the bears come and get us. Maybe that's silly, but will they?"

Howard threw a stick on the campfire.

"We don't bother them, they don't bother us. I keep the food up high in bags that don't stink. Fire's between us and the woods. My tent's that side of yours. Rest easy."

Howard took out a harmonica and started playing old camp songs. Jane cuddled next to him and sang along.

"Oh my darling, Clementine. You are lost and gone forever..."

Casey sat next to Mollie drinking hot cider. Mollie whispered.

"Funny pair. They connect, but like brother and sister. No sparks there at all. On the other hand, have you finished your cider...?

"Almost."

"I really need to show you something..."

"I don't know..."

"You want to crank up her sexiness."

"That's what I do."

"And after today she isn't hot and bothered...?"

"Maybe not."

"Let's raise the stakes."

"You think?"

"Come on."

As they left Howard called out.

"If you think you hear a bear make a lot of noise."

Mollie laughed.

"Don't worry. We will,"

Mollie led him just a little way along the shore to a grove of young pines.

"Here is good."

"What?"

"Take your knife and cut small branches from the pines and pile them up over here. Get a lot of them."

"What are we doing, making some kind of trap for wild life?"

"You might say that."

She showed him how to weave the branches together until they formed a high, springy pile. From under the knapsack she always carried she took a strong thermal blanket and covered the boughs, tucking it under. Then, quite swiftly she slipped out of her jeans and underwear. She was tall. Placing her hands on Casey's shoulders she faced him eye to eye.

"I hope you won't mind if I am very frank. I am so horny I am dripping. I mean it. For real."

She took his hand and pulled it between her legs.

"See?"

She was indeed so wet that her honey ran between Casey's fingers.

"Lord that feels good. Press up, please, hard. Oh, yes."

Her whole body shuddered.

"Wow, thanks. I didn't expect one so quick. But please, here's what I really need. I'll just tell you. I don't want any foreplay except for this. I'm going to lie down and put my legs up. I want you to eat me until I come...again. I warn you, I get very wet. Then I want you to come into me hard and just hammer me as hard and fast as you can. Can you do that?"




Doctor of Desire Ch. 07



"I think so."

"Let's go then."

In the dying light Casey could see she had a glorious thick unshaved red bush. The swollen pale skin of her large lips gleamed through it, especially where they were soaked with her own slick oil. In the center her tender lips gaped like some rare wet mushroom. 

The moment Casey's tongue touched her she began a stream of low moans, begging words, and growls.

"Yes. Yes, right there. Yes, take the whole thing in your mouth. All of it. Get all my hair soaking wet. Bite it. Bite it. Harder. Good. That's right. Now suck it hard. Harder! Pull all my lips deep into your mouth. Swallow them. Just eat them up. Now, stick your tongue in as far as it can go. Deep. Deep. Yes, fuck me with your tongue. Oh, I'm so wet. Lick it up, please. Lick it all up. That's good. Get every drop. Now flip my clit with your tongue. Just on top. Yeah. On top of the hood. Just keep that up for a while. Yeah. I'm getting ready to come. Back and forth. A little faster. Faster. Keep it up. Good boy. Now slow. Very slow. Just stroke it. Stroke it. Push your tongue hard against it. Hard. Yow! Yeah. Keep doing that. Faster now. Oh yes. Keep going. A little faster. That's good, that's good. Just like that. Oh, you're good. No wonder they want you. I want you. A little farther. A little farther."

Mollie hips had been rising higher and higher, her strong belly in hard spasms as each mini climax hit her. She had her hands in Casey's hair and was pulling him tight to her swollen cunt. As the big one hit her she screamed.

"Jeeeeeaaaaaaoooooooh!"

It was like no sound Casey had ever heard, totally human animal, wrenched from the depths of her womb. As she let go her hips pumped against his mouth and a hot stream of womancum poured between his. He swallowed and kept swallowing as he squeezed the last drop out. 

She could have been spent, but she wasn't.

"Are you ready? Come here."

He was kneeling over her and she swiftly undid his belt. In a few seconds his cock was so hard it hurt. She was good. Sucked it in deep and bathed it with her tongue. But she stopped, holding it tightly.

"That's good, right, but it's not what I need. You said..."

Casey kept his promises. He slid down and entered her hard. No finesse, no careful strokes. This was animal sex. Get the seed in and do it hard and fast. 

She was tight. Good muscles and not too many partners. He could feel her inner muscles clutch him as he plunged in and spasm as he came out. He had her hips tilted up high so his knob rubbed her G hard. She bounced. She screamed. Echoes of her unholy yowls rattled against the tree trunks. 

It didn't take very long. In the fading light her face was flushed scarlet and her mouth gaped. As he let go, Casey imagined he was pouring a thick stream of sweet milk down her throat.

The next morning Mollie told Casey that Jane had not slept well.

"She didn't want to say anything, at first, but after a while I got her to warm up a little."

"I'll bet you did."

Mollie slapped his knee.

"Not like that at all. Anyway, she told me that hearing us last night really bothered her. I wanted to say, 'I should hope it did.' But she was really serious. She said it made her feel all 'mixed up inside.' I couldn't get her to say much more. She just kept repeating, "You won't believe me. You'll think I'm a big joke.' I thought the girl to girl would work, but she's tight as a clam, in more ways than one."

Casey was concerned. 

"Maybe Jane has had some serious trauma, or a rape or something. It might be best for me to cut the trip short and turn her over to a good therapist."

Mollie wasn't so sure.

"It doesn't feel that way. It's as though she is really getting into the role of being just a homely lonely girl from the sticks."

The next few days they fished. Howard took them up a fine rocky stream that emptied into the lake. It was chock full of fat rainbow trout. Jane proved to be a natural at both wet and dry fly fishing. She was the picture of relaxation in the middle of the stream in her big rubber waders, dropping the fly into a little eddy where a rainbow had leaped for a gnat a moment before. Her disguise disappeared as the sun caught her fine hair. Casey caught Howard glancing over at her with a puzzled look.

Finally, he spoke.

"I guess I figured you wrong. I heard them actresses can't do much but act."

Jane made another perfect cast.

"Don't believe everything you hear. We work hard at our craft, some of us. Maybe as hard as you do. I try to stay in shape. I read about the people I'm playing and the time they live in. Shooting a picture can wear you out if you're not ready. And people don't want to see you worn out. They want glamour. Maybe too much."

"Seems a long way from here."

"Yeah. So, Howard, do you figure you could ever date an actress?"

"Dunno. We don't get many up here. Shakespeare thing summers down in Bangor. Maybe not."

"Why not?"

"Maybe we'd have nothing to talk about. All I know is this; animals, boats, gear."

"You don't talk much anyway."

"'S'the truth."

He was silent then, until Jane hooked a big one. Granddaddy trout put up some fight. Finally Howard netted him.

"Now that there's a trout!"

They all gathered round to admire it. It flopped hard in the net, showing the crimson inside of its gills. Mollie took a picture of Jane holding her fish. Then Jane's smile turned upside down. She was almost crying. Mollie gave her a hug.

"What's the matter, hon?"

"It's just...it's just that he was so brave and strong. Look at him. He's lived here for years. I can't just kill him and eat him. Couldn't we just put him back? I have those other ones I caught. They're just ordinary. Oh, they're pretty, but this guy, he's special. Can we put him back, or is it too late?"

She looked around at them all with such a puppy dog face that Casey almost laughed. Howard, however, was dead serious.

"You do that." He said. "People do it all the time. Lotta mine I put back. 'Specially if they are old fighters like this one. Let's do it."

He and Jane waded over near the deep hole and flipped the big trout out of the net. For a moment it was silent, then it thrashed the water with its tail and was gone. Jane and he shared a huge smile.

Jane didn't eat much of her dinner that night. A huge moon was rising through the pines. Casey could see Howard glance sideways at her from time to time. Casey was good at reading body language. He could see that Jane would have loved to have Howard put an arm around her, but he was all business. Casey could also tell that it was Mollie that sparked Howard's imagination.

After a while they all turned in. Casey couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the moon, maybe the low laughter coming from the women's tent. Howard snored softly. Casey got up to take a piss, the night's beer pushing strongly on his bladder. 

He was standing in the bushes about halfway done when he heard a sound. Mollie slid up behind him and put her arms around his waist, reaching down to where he held his cock.

"Can I have some of that?"

"I don't do golden showers."

"Really? Never? Anyway, not what I meant."

"Once. It felt silly, not sexy."

"So, can I?"

Mollie's breath was warm in his ear. One of her hands gently cupped his balls. His cock rose past the vertical.

"Your friend says yes."

Mollie led him over near the fire where the coals still glowed warm. She seated him on an old stump.

"Nice moss for my knees."

She knelt in front of him and spent some time gently stroking his cock and admiring it in the moonlight.

"Very pretty. I love the way it curves up. No wonder you could hit my G spot so bang on. I'm going to suck it now. Is there anything you like especially."?

"I trust you."

He was right. She took her time, bathing his knob with her tongue, pulled it out into the cool air to nibble the bottom side. Sucked it deep in her mouth and just held it there. Sucked it so hard it stung and pulled it out slowly against the suction. This time she was trying to be quiet. Casey also didn't want to wake the others. It had been a long day. Still he couldn't suppress the occasional moan.

Then he realized that he had been hearing little moans that were neither himself nor Mollie. Glancing across the fire he spotted a pair of eyes in the bushes beyond. He touched Mollie's face and she reluctantly came up for air.

"We're being watched." He whispered.

"I know." She replied around his cock.

"You know?"

"Mmhmm, I suggested it."

"Kinky."

"No, instructional."

Reluctantly, she took his cock out of her mouth and laid it against her cheek.

"Let me let you in on a little secret. Our girl is not bored and jaded with sex. She is scared. She is scared because she is inexperienced. She is an actor, a very talent one. She has the whole world fooled. You know she started as a child star and then did the whole sexy brat thing..."

"All a show...?"

"All a show. Aside from a couple of clumsy high school things she is almost a virgin. Scared that if some date finds out, she'll be the laughing stock of Hollywood."

Mollie beckoned for Jane to come over. She shook her head and stayed hidden. Finally, Mollie went over. They whispered together. 

"Do you want to watch from up close?"

"No, yes, no."

"It's OK. That's what Casey and I are here for."

"It seems funny."

"That's why we're way off in the woods, so you can find out these things without being embarrassed.

"Well, I am."

"Don't fret. Pretend it's an interactive movie."

"I'll try that."

Jane seated herself on a nearby log and Mollie went back to kneeling again.

"Here's an important thing to remember. Most girls can't get a guy off this way. Usually, he has to use his hand. Don't be upset if he needs to do that."

Mollie went to work. With her hand she milked Casey's cock into her mouth while she sucked, keeping her mouth very wet. This made things pretty noisy, but Casey appreciated the technique.

"You aren't using your hand."

"I...don't...need...to. She knows...what...she's doing."

Sweat appeared on Jane's upper lip and at her temple. Her hand fell into her lap and her thighs squeezed around it.

"How...come...you don't bite him?"

"Sometimes I do, gently, but it's on purpose. But I tuck my lips around my teeth. It makes them tighter, too. Try it with your thumb. It helps to work up a lot of spit."

Jane put her thumb in her mouth and began sucking earnestly. It was babyish and super sexy at the same time. For a long moment she held Casey's gaze. He moaned and she shuddered all over. Her eyes disappeared for a moment up in her head, her body rocking.


"Mollie, isn't he going to...won't he...in your mouth? It tastes bad, doesn't...?

Mollie took a gasping breath around Casey's cock.

"I hope to god he does, and it's OK if he does. Anyway, I'll take him deep in my mouth and it will just pour down the back of my throat."

"You're going to swallow it?"

"You don't have to, but I live for it. Come on Casey, give me all of it. All of it!"

Casey didn't need to be commanded or begged. The jizz exploded out of him. Mollie was good to her promise. He felt her throat contract again and again as his hot semen slid down it. But she didn't let him go until she had sucked down every last aftershock. As a bonus, she plunged a finger into his asshole and pressed hard on his prostate. Casey felt himself empty right out. He also passed out.

When he woke he heard the women, but he couldn't see them. He followed their voices to a little glen a few yards into the woods. Deep moss grew under large trees. Mollie was seated against one of them with Jane seated in front of her facing out. Mollie's arms were around Jane, her hands in her lap. Jane's face was knitted up.

"I know how to fake it. I did that for a nasty little film where I had to play a vampire. The master vampire did me. But that was all acting. Dozens of takes from every angle. It was, like, 'Can you scream like he is stabbing you, and open your mouth a little wider? Makeup! Her lipstick is wearing off and there is sweat on her neck.'

Unnatural. And the real guys I've dated are such bullshitters. They are either all into themselves or taking notes about how they made out with Miss Movie Star. And when I do it myself I just try and try but I never get there. Watching you two was the best I have had in...ever."

Mollie made a suggestion.

"Let me be your hands. But don't be quiet. You tell me if what I'm doing feels good. Is that OK? Does this feel weird?"

"A little, but right now I don't really care. I just have to get off. You're sweet. I'm sure you would never take advantage of me, or almost sure."

"Ok. So first thing is...breathe. If you start holding your breath, let it out. Second thing, let your hips move the way they need to. They have a right to do what they want. Third thing, don't try to stay quiet. Whatever sound wants to come out, let it out."

"But I might wake Howard, or Casey."

"Howard knows the score, and Casey...well, you may need his help."

"Help?"

"We'll see. Ready?"

"Uh huh."

"Ok, I'm going to just massage your legs and your tummy for a while. Is that good?"

"Wonderful. Only I may fall asleep if my belly stops jumping inside."

"Let it jump. Ask it to jump and you won't fall asleep. Now, I'm going to just rub your mons some. Don't you like that word? It means mountain. Your little mountain. You have lots of thick hair. I would think they would want you to have the whole Brazilian thing."

"Oh that feels nice. Yes, but I stopped shaving a few weeks ago. I said to hell with all that."

"Fine. Now I'm going to slide my fingers down the groove a little and pick up some of your natural wetness here. You know you have these little sacks, under the skin, one on each side of the opening. They make that nice slick stuff. You are young; you don't need anything but yourself. Good?"

"Mmmm."

"Let your hips move now against my hands. As I move down just roll them up a little. Yeah, that's good. Breathe. Feel your back loosen up. You're a flexible pussy cat."

"Oh!"

"That's OK. If your tummy starts to pop just let it. Feel it way inside."

"I feel it. Oh jeez!"

"Now I'm going to start sliding my fingers between your pretty little lips here. I'm going to press out some of that good slick juice. Just let it come. Let yourself get very wet."

"It's so sloppy."

"Wonderfully sloppy. You notice I'm not touching your clit yet.

"Please touch it."

"Not yet. You can put your hands on mine, good, but let me do it."

"But I need to..."

"Wait. Wait. Breathe. Let it move. Push it up at the moon. Good. And now I'm going to just rub the top."

"Oh, no!"

"Nice and sensitive. I'll go easy. Round and round and back and forth. You like that?"

"Faster."

"Not yet, oh your hands are so eager for it. But let me, let me."

"Faster, please."

"Not yet. OK, now a little faster. Better?"

"Yes. Yes. But faster. A little harder."

"Wait, wait now. You are getting so nice and wet. I'm going to collect some more. Ooh, you fur is soaking now. So slippery. You are a little fish. Good, breathe. Let your hips meet my hand. Good?"

"UH, oh, I..."

"I'm going to squeeze your nipple now. Oh, wow, you like that. I shouldn't have neglected them. Do you mind if I pinch it a little? No, obviously not. I need to push my hips against your bottom. I'm getting pretty hot myself."

"Please, oh please let me..."

"Soon, soon, just keep your hands on mine. Now, soon I will slide my hands down and you can take your clit and I will tuck my fingers in. Don't worry, I have nice smooth short nails. Oh, You really can't wait can you?"

"No, please now, oh let me oh now, please now!"

Mollie moved her hands aside and let Jane press on her own clit. Jane's whole body was shaking, her firm ass rubbing hard against Mollie's swollen cunt. Mollie waited until Jane's cries began to echo through the woods and then she plunged the two middle fingers of her right hand deep into Jane's soaking pussy. She curled the tips of her fingers up against Jane's G-spot and pushed in a nice firm circle. Jane came out of her skin. Her whole body became a flag shaking in the wind. A small hot fountain spurted up over Mollie's fingers and soaked into the rich forest floor.

Casey also came again. He had tried to be discreet where he leaned against an oak in the shadows, but the sight of two gorgeous women, both lost in the beautiful agony of orgasm, mouths open to the moonlight made him lose it. He emptied himself again out over the dark moss.

He had not been undetected. Mollie caught his eye as he came out of his orgasmic haze. She beckoned him over and gestured that he should lie in front of them. Jane was in her own post climax snooze. Mollie coaxed Casey's chin into Jane's beautiful lap. Her cunt gaped open, glistening in the moonlight.

"I think you should help her clean up, don't you?"

Casey was game. With delicate tongue strokes he swathed that sexy mouth top to bottom. Jane slowly came awake and not so slowly, came again, and again. Casey took her all the way back up again by tucking two fingers into her to massage that thick little pillow as he sucked gently on her still sensitive clit. He let his pinky lightly tickle the pink pucker below and suddenly Jane's hips were grinding into his mouth and "accidentally" the pinky disappeared deep into that now gaping opening.

Casey got two for one as Jane's writhing final orgasm sparked another in Mollie and for a moment Casey was surrounded by thrashing legs. Then they all collapsed into oblivion.

That might have been the end of it except that Casey woke in pre-dawn gloaming his arms around Mollie as Jane untwined herself. She ginned and whispered in his ear.

"I feel we have been a little unfair to Howard. I am going to see if he will let me practice some of the things Mollie and you showed me earlier."

She tiptoed away. Casey heard the unzipping and zipping of Howard's tent. 

"Mollie?"

"Jane."

"Jane, can I help you?"

"Maybe. And maybe I can help you."

Murmuring and silence and rhythmic rustling of ripstop nylon and then the sounds of a very wet mouth. Howard's voice rose in a wordless moan, a sudden shout and heavy panting, then silence. Casey fell asleep and woke when the sun was up, but not too far up. Mollie had disappeared. Jane knelt next to him with a steaming cup of coffee.

"So. How'd it go?"

"Mission accomplished. He was quicker than you. He's also bigger than you. Wider bigger, not longer bigger. Not easy to get him all in my mouth. He had a lot of stuff. Like he had been saving it up. I may not need any breakfast, except that I'm as hungry as a bear. But I'm also hungry in another way, thanks to you and Mollie. I'm ready for my next lesson. We couldn't...? That's OK. I'll wait."

They pushed off a little late because everyone was kind of pooped and everyone wanted to wash, and everyone wanted to eat, and Jane spent some extra time in the tent doing something that made her huff and puff and squeak. But finally they were packed and stowed and the canoes glided out over the smooth, dark water.

Howard was taking them up into a part of the lake system that only he knew. Small estuaries connected beautiful jewel-like lakes, hardly bigger than ponds, swarming with dragonflies in many colors and sizes. A kingfisher dove from a high dead branch over hanging the water, disappeared beneath the surface only to pop up again with a succulent trout wriggling in its beak.

Loon cries came from misty alcoves of reeds. Something that could have been a large coyote or a small wolf padded out of the brush, down to the water's edge. It sipped and peered at them out of stark blue eyes.

Wild turkey in a noisy flock rose out of the reeds and sat squawking on a mossy tree. Howard pulled out a small rifle with a silencer and let the canoe drift as he took aim. There was a small cracking sound and one of the fatter turkeys dropped. He padded over and picked it up. He smiled.




Doctor of Desire Ch. 07



"Here's dinner."

Jane was shaking her head.

"Somehow I don't mind killing and eating the fish. Maybe it's because they seem so different from us. But killing birds bothers me, even ugly birds like turkeys."

"So you hate Thanksgiving?" Casey grinned.

"No. I stuff myself silly. Maybe this is a good lesson. You appreciate it more when you realize some creature gave its life to keep you alive."

Howard and Mollie had disappeared in their canoe through a stand of high cattails. Suddenly, they heard Howard's hoarse whisper.

"Come through quickly and pull out on the sand bar to your left. Be very quiet. We have something very strange here."

As they emerged from the brush Casey noticed that Howard's canoe was already out of the water and tilted against a tree where he and Mollie appeared to be hiding. Mollie gestured across the swampy pond, then put her finger to her lips. 

A horn-like bellow shook the leaves in the trees as Casey and Jane beached their boat. Jane ran to Casey and clutched him in fear.

"What the hell was that?"

Casey imitated Mollie's gesture. On the far side of some flooded saplings a huge moose was calmly chewing on pondweed. This animal had no horns.

"Female." Casey whispered.

The loud bellow came again, but it was not the moose cow that gave it. Stepping into view on the far side of the marsh was a magnificent beast almost half again as large as the cow. Wide, flat horns ended in points aimed at the sky. The "velvet" that covers new antlers hung of them in shreds. 

"Male."

"I figured that."

Casey and Jane quickly got their canoe hid in some pines and took refuge behind a large double trunk oak where they could look out over the fork in the trunks without being seen. Jane was almost dancing with fear and excitement. Ahead of them and to the left they could just see Mollie and Howard hidden in their 'blind.'

The young bull moose pawed at the water and snorted, shaking his large 'rack.' The cow ignored him.

He took a few more steps closer, lifted his chin to the sky and bellowed again. This time the cow stopped chewing and gave a little moo of her own. The male was encouraged. He stepped in close and rubbed his long muzzle on her flank. Jane was touched.

"Awww." She muttered and pushed her own hip against Casey, who stood slightly behind her. "Do you think they might...?

"They might, but it is a little early in the season."

The male lifted his head and gave a low mournful call that reach right down into the gut of the listeners.

"Ohhh, he wants her!" Jane cooed, tucking herself in under Casey's arm.

Howard, ahead of them made a shush sign. At the same moment came another bellow, but this one came from neither animal they were looking at. Deep in the brush came the sound of mad thrashing, and the cracking of branches. Another trumpet. The young male started away from the female and charged some saplings, tearing them apart with his antlers. 

"Is it a bear come to eat them?" Jane squeaked.

"No, another male moose."

Just as Casey spoke the bull moose crashed out of the far forest. Even at a distance they could tell that he was huge, with a magnificent spread of horn and a long bulbous snout with flaring nostrils and covered with scars.

He stopped, eyeballed the younger male and lifted his chin in a loud challenge that echoed off the trees. The younger male was not intimidated and returned the bellow, a higher pitch, but just as strong. The bull charged into the dense brush and savaged it with his antlers. The younger bull did the same. The pond was soon muddy with thrashing hooves and littered with broken bracken.

Each animal stopped, panting, horns and sides littered with brush. They sized each other up, then charged heads down. Their thorny antlers crashed together, twisted, separated, crashed together again. The bull pushed the younger bull back to the edge of the pond. The younger one got a new grip and propelled the large bull back across the water. The cow dodged the mad charge and stood panting not twenty feet from Casey and Jane.

The battle went on and on. Once, Howard and Mollie had to dive for a new hiding place as the great sweating and grunting animals crashed past them.

Jane was spellbound, breathing heavily. Casey stood behind her his hands against the tree, pressed against her body. He knew he could not protect her from the crazed beasts, but it felt as though he was guarding his charge.

Jane was getting excited. Each time the bulls collided she seemed to feel it in her gut. If they stopped and bellowed she shivered all over breathing heavily and pressed her hips back into Casey.

Both beasts were now spattered with blood and growing tired. Finally, the older bull managed to knock the younger off his feet, stumbling into the water. The defeated younger bull staggered slowly up again, gave one last mournful cry and limped slowly into the woods.

"Ohh, I was kind of rooting for the younger guy." Jane whispered.

Now it was the older bulls turn to nuzzle up to the cow. They were so close that Casey and Jane could smell the pond muck, the sweat, the elemental moose musk.

"Oh my god!" Jane moaned.

A huge penis as long as her arm had descended from the bull's belly and was rapidly becoming hard. It bobbed as he moved, trying to get into the right position as the cow, now skittish danced. Several times he rose on his rear haunches his huge cock slapping on the flanks of the cow.

The cow let out a long heart-wrenching cry. It sank right into Casey's balls and demanded that his own cock reach its full length.

Jane felt it and ground her ass back into him. She couldn't help it. Behind her back she frantically scrambled to undo his buckle. He took over and she undid the two snaps of her loose overalls and they fell to the ground. She wore no underwear.

"Please! Please! I don't care. Let them kill me if they hear me. But do me right now. Right now! Hard! As hard as you can! I want to come when they do."

Casey was only too willing to oblige. Jane braced her arms on the two trunks of the tree. The bull moose had found his target. That huge arm-length tube plunged deep into the swollen pudendum of the cow. His teeth gnawed at the skin of her spine. Her teeth bared and she let out another haunting cry. Jane echoed it immediately, as Casey drove mercilessly into her. He knew that he should have been careful and tender, wooing her to a love of this the most elemental act. But he could not. The animal in him said 'drive it in', and that's what he did. And Jane loved it, that celebrated high round ass spreading to let him take her cunt as deep as he could go. 

She kept her eyes glued on the moose. That huge organ only a few feet from her eyes kept sliding in and out of the cow's dark, ripe hollow. The bull moose kept it up much longer than Casey expected. But then they both knew. The strokes were growing shorter and the moose was snorting hard. Thick muscles on either side of his melon sized balls convulsed. His haunches clamped to his mate and she groaned again. The forest was filled with that primitive moan. Casey and Jane, heedless of the enormous animals added their own music.

Slowly the moose calmed. The great penis pulled slowly out dripping primeval funk. Snuffling and snorting the two behemoths slowly wandered off into the woods.

Jane giggled, pointing. Casey followed her gaze. Howard had Mollie up against a tree and was pumping away for all he was worth. Mollie's head was thrown back, her mouth open, her legs wrapped tightly around Howard's waist.

Jane smiled and gave Casey a little kiss as she buttoned up again.

"I guess our fearless moose hunter is not above getting a little stirred up. Tell you what, much as I have enjoyed your company, and, I'm sure you have other wonderful lessons to teach, I am just going to play hookey, and as soon as Mr. Howard has finished his good work over there and got himself together, I am going to offer to climb into his canoe. I'm sure you and Mollie will have plenty to talk about in yours."

Jane was true to her word. For the next two days she and Howard were inseparable. They shared a canoe and shared a tent and even shared kitchen duty. The rest of the trip was pretty tame, during the daytime, because everyone wasn't getting a full night's sleep. Animal sounds came from inside the tents.

The last clear morning Jane was washing up in the lake and caught a good clear look at herself in the water. She shrieked.

"Oh my god, Is this what I looked like all week?"

She jumped up and started pounding Casey on the back with her fists.

"You bum! You bastard! You had them make me up with permanent makeup to look like a country bumpkin! And with her looking like that! What if anybody...? No one would ever....

Then she stopped and a huge smile revealed the million dollar teeth, which were beginning to look normal again.

"He doesn't care. He doesn't give a shit if I have eye shadow on or if I have a bed head. To him my body isn't something to gawk at. And when we're alone most of the time we just...kiss."

She ran up to Casey and took his head in both her hands and gave him a huge kiss, with even a bit of tongue. 

"Thank you, Doctor Darden, you do good work."

She ran to Mollie and gave her a huge hug and a kiss that was a little more than just gratitude.

"Thank you for treating me like a real person, and for helping me to get to know myself. Will you please go on being my friend? I really want that.

"If I don't have to move to Hollywood."

"Deal."

Howard was ignoring all this fuss, cleaning up their last camp. Jane caught him from behind and trapped him in a bear hug.

"Moosey, I want to thank you most of all. You are totally no BS, a real friend, and a wonderful lover. Please, can I come back soon? I do have to go back to my job. You taught me how to do it much better. But I need to come back here, a lot."

They were all sad to put Jane on the plane. She cried all the way home. A few weeks later Casey got a handwritten note enclosing a clipping. A picture showed a glamorous starlet waving from a limo. The story said that this hot young actress was turning down offers left and right, looking for a "dramatic and sultry role." She was in great shape and good form. The tabloids were ascribing her new "glow" to romances with every A-list star. But she credited regular trips to a "secret spa." Not in the Southwest, or Miami, or Mediterranean this "rehab center" was somewhere in the "frozen north."

When I'm there I'm just another girl, a plain Jane, but "Moose Haven" is the best thing that has ever happened." 

Casey also got a personal invitation to the next Oscars where a certain talented actress was up for an award for a "pithy supporting role that burns up the screen." Casey met Sol Levine there and asked him point blank for a bonus. He figured he'd earned his fee. Sol bought him a car.



Doctor of Desire Ch. 08



The building had her name on it. CLARE'S WORLD. Of course it did. It was her empire, built up from potholders sold at parties to a multibillion dollar "lifestyle industry." She understood people and knew how to get or make what they wanted. Her pots and pans were in the most upscale houseware stores. Her gardening boots were sold at Z-Mart. There were three fashion lines, each aimed at a different demographic: Cowgirl, East Sider, Family Values. Women were her bread and butter.

A receptionist, dressed fashionably, ushered Dr. Casey Darden discreetly into a private elevator that rose only to the penthouse office suite. Casey was meeting Clare's assistant Melissa for a quick briefing before they made their "presentation' to Clare herself. He had never met the remarkable Clare. Her reputation for being hard as nails under velvet intimidated everyone on the 'project.' 

This had been the most difficult client situation that Casey had faced so far (with the possible exception of facing off with the devil himself.) Melissa Brand had first contacted him many weeks ago. Even though it was supposed to be on the QT there were many staff members involved. Most of them thought they were testing a new product line, and in fact, they very well might be, if the presentation was effective.

Casey might have wished that Melissa were his client. Melissa was easily five ten, with an athletic body that was model slim face to face; but as soon as she turned sideways a remarkable perky ass asked to be patted. From the way Melissa scanned him from mousse to wingtips in a cool and relaxed manner he was convinced she needed no therapy.

"Follow me," she murmured and moved gracefully down a corridor lit by invisible light and decorated by floral abstracts that seemed to glow in their niches. She ushered him into a conference room whose one wall was the city itself, gleaming evening lights all the way to the Boston harbor islands. The "development team", all dressed conservatively, were seated at a table formed from a single irregular slab of magnificently grained wood. 

Arrayed behind them in an alcove were a number of curious objects on shelves, platforms and a velvet-covered table. 

"Doctor Darden has asked me to be the lead this evening on the products we have chosen and to aid in the presentation to Clare. While I recognize that each of you has spent serious effort in researching, choosing, even developing these products, we will trust Dr. Darden, and of course Clare to make the choices as to which reach the market with the Clare Intimates label. You all are aware that this product is a departure and a risk. 

"Of course we hope these new items will complement the line of intimate lingerie and sensual oils that may be used in erotic encounters. But heretofore we have not sought to provide products specifically for 'bedroom recreation'. Please be prepared to give strong reasons why you believe in the product you have chosen."

Worried murmurs flowed around the table. Melissa had started pacing and Casey noticed a fine line of moisture above her well-carved upper lip. Everyone knew that Melissa had exclusive access to Clare. Rumors flew that they were lovers, but no one had ever seen so much as a touch that suggested such a relationship. 

Melissa led Casey off to the side.

"As is our custom we introduce new concepts to Clare in response to her own leadings. Some of these ...some of her suggestions may be ... oblique, no more than a hint, or a direction suggested by a hue, a tune, an animal, a city, an island. When we manage to decipher these innuendoes and provide substantial possibilities Clare will endorse them wholeheartedly and make them part of her own life, not to mention endorsing impressive investment and development. If we misjudge her mood we will all be fired and she will do her best to besmirch your reputation. Let us just say no one in this room has ever misinterpreted a Clare suggestion. But most here have only been with the organization a few months... Do you understand?

Casey nodded. Melissa did not seem eager to seek his opinion. 

"One more critical factor. Clare does not allow CLARE'S WORLD to sell any product she would not use herself.

"Supporting this product we envision an exclusive club, Clare's Club that will provide concierges to offer consultation for women wishing to explore ...."

An almost imperceptible belltone chimed and everyone in the room sat up straighter and applied polite smiles to their mouths. A panel hushed open revealing the glints of expensive furnishing and objets d'art. The woman who glided across the room wore a perfect mole-grey tailored suit of her own design. 

No one moved. Casey, rebelliously remained relaxed, casual.

Clare barely glanced at him as she moved to the exhibition area, calmly strolling among the objects. There was quite a range; elegant glass cylinders, small mechanical devices and an impressive carved hobby-horse. And then there was the mechanical 'spider' in the center of the room. Occasionally she drew a perfectly manicured forefinger along an object; cocked her head as something puzzled her; shook her head almost imperceptibly; let a tiny smile raise the corner of her lip. She stopped, grey eyes on her staff at the table.

"Thank you everyone. You may go."

A small disappointed murmur arose from the assembly.

"Please have your resignations on Ms. Brand's desk before you leave the building."

A raised palm quelled any further sound. The crew filed out. Melissa lingered.

"Melissa? You too may go."

Again the elegant raised hand. Melissa headed for the exit.

"Oh Melissa, please prepare your resignation also. But don't leave the building. I think I will need you."

Casey kept his breath low and relaxed. Clare turned to the windows and looked out at the city.

"You are thinking I have fired them all like the imperious bitch I am reputed to be."

Casey said nothing and felt himself gain a point.

"Actually, they expect this. It is routine. If the presentation goes well most of them will remain employed and receive not only a bonus, but a percentage of the sales from the new line."

Casey looked her directly in the eyes as she turned. It pleased him to notice she wasn't used to this.

"Of course, if this goes badly we start fresh. There are so many who would die to work under me."

Casey still had nothing to say.

"And so, it is in your hands, Mr. gigolo doctor, or perhaps we should say I am in your hands. Have you ever had a tiger by the tail, Dr. Darden? May I offer you a drink?"

"Will you join me?"

"That is the question, isn't it?"

She waved her hand at a panel of blonde wood and it opened to reveal an elegant bar. An ice bucket rose from its depths with a champagne bottle in it. Clare plucked two champagne flutes from their rack.

"Would you do the honors?"

Casey took the bottle and dried it on a crisp linen towel. In one motion he removed the cork without spilling a whiff of foam and poured them each a glass. The wine was tinted the pale chartreuse Clare was famous for applying to furniture, fabrics and dinnerware. Clare raised her glass.

"From my own vineyards outside of Saint-Memmie, and therefore a true Champagne. Normally, I never mix alcohol with business decisions. However, this is somewhat different. Since I would almost invariably sip some champagne before intimate activity, this is a staging of the proper circumstances. A handsome gentleman is also important."

She ran her eyes down to the creases in his pants and raised them to his face.

"Though not always essential."

"Correct."

"May I propose a toast, then, to a successful joint venture?"

"If it amuses you to call it that."

"It does."

"So be it. To our joint venture."

They drank. Casey was moved to comment on the wine.

"I like this. It is neither sweet nor tart. An excellent blend."

He deliberately let his eyes explore her body.

"It should be at three thousand dollars a bottle. Will you have some more?"

"Perhaps later. For now a certain clarity of mind should aid me in presenting the materials."

"You will make this presentation yourself?"

"Oh yes. 

"Surely you did not assume I would be your partner? Or do you have your own professional 'surrogates' expert in the 'art of love', should we say?

Casey allowed himself a slight smile.

"Melissa has agreed to aid me in some of the demonstration. She assured me she knows your tastes well. However, for the time being I thought you might like to examine certain products yourself. Perhaps you would like to begin with the jewels of our collection."

Casey was pleased to see a discreet wrinkle find it's way between the carefully tonsured brows of his host. He turned and took a magnificent wood and ivory inlaid case from the side table. As he opened it for Clare a subtle glow rose from beneath a row of elegant glass cylinders and shell-like objects.

"Please, help yourself."

Clare ran her finger across the objects and withdrew one of ruby glass wound with what appeared to be tiny snakes. One end swelled into a sensuous bulb. She replaced it and picked up another that seemed to be a crescent of glass holding the tangled strands of exotic seaweeds and studded with rippling shells. A third was gleaming black, but sparkles of purple and green danced deep in its core.

"Well, Dr. Darden, they are certainly beautiful. I'll give you that. But I have seen similar, if more ordinary glass dildos marketed. Are these in any way remarkable?

Casey smiled.

"Would you like to ... test any, or all of them to properly discover their properties?"

Clare shook her head.

"I think not. Please describe."

"All right. First, they are not merely dildos, but rather special vibrators. If you look closely you will see that embedded in the base is a solar cell. When left in a bright window or under full spectrum light they charge quickly and hold power for two hours. Now, if you will find a small soft spot on one end ... yes, there. Press that. You should feel a rather unique vibration. Yes?"

"Yes."

One of Clare's eyebrows was raised in curiosity.

"The wand is embedded with biorhythm electrodes that sense the users preference. In addition, we say that 'the wand chooses the woman'. Some clients may to get to know several before finding a perfect match. I would guess that you have found your wand, though you could try another. They also have a receiver that can pick up music from a special iPod ® dock. I can demonstrate."

"Not yet. I think perhaps I do not wish to be the subject for this demonstration. If you will do me a favor, please go over to the panel by the bar. Press just there and talk into the hidden mic; tell them you want Miranda Natchez. In the mean time, I must confess I am disappointed in the presentation of these 'toys'. They appear to be dirty. Surely no one has been playing ...

"No, that's virtually impossible. "

"Oh, things happen. I can understand the temptation ..."

"But ..."

"You call Ms. Natchez. I'll see to these."

Clare had snapped the box closed and was halfway across the room. Casey caught a glimpse of a magnificent restroom/boudoir. In a second he was alone. He addressed the panel and Melissa's voice answered as though she was in the room.

"Please send in Miranda Natchez."

"Miranda? Are you sure? She is not even on the team." Melissa sounded a bit disappointed.

"That's who she asked for."

"O.K., fine. I hope Miranda hasn't left the building."

"Thanks."

Casey found a comfortable seat by the window and waited, a little tense. So far, the "experiment" had gone well, but he knew it could go south in a heartbeat. He allowed himself to enjoy the kaleidoscope of humanity outside the windows; traffic on the distant bridges, helicopters flying over the river and the mosaic of windows on the other skyscrapers. After a time he became aware of distant voice, as though someone was singing. Was Miranda at the door? But no, the sound came from the boudoir. A last extended cry echoed, followed by silence. A gentle tapping at the outer door.

Casey rose and went to open it. Outside stood a sturdy young woman in a maroon business suit. She had an Aztec nose and deep dark eyes under generous brows. Thick black hair was pulled into a somewhat severe bun pinned at the back of her neck. Casey ushered Miranda into the suite. Clare reappeared with the inlaid box and a fluffy lavender robe over one arm.

"Ms. Natchez," she smiled. "I have a little assignment for you. We are testing new products for the Clare's intimates. These go a bit beyond the lingerie line. I will need your frank and unbiased opinion of one or more of these ..."

Miranda's eyes widened.

"Ai, si bonita."

"Please choose one."

"But they are ...?"

"Yes."

"Ai de mi."

"Please."

Miranda's fingers danced delicately across the wands. Casey saw Clare's brow knit as they hovered for a moment over the black one, but then moved on. Miranda touched the ruby wand and then at a twisted green one resembling a gnarled branch.

"They are so pretty. I like this and also this."

"Pick it up and press the end."

Miranda took the green one and found the soft spot. As soon as the humming began she shook her head.

"Try another."

The ruby wand purred almost inaudibly. For a moment Miranda stood and absorbed the vibrations with both her hands.

"Turn it off, please."

"Excuse me?"

"Turn it off." Clare's voice was quiet but forbidding.

Miranda smiled. 

"I think this a very good thing. I believe women will like this very much. May I go now?"

"Oh, by no means. Please disrobe."

"Excuse me?"

"Take off your clothes."

"Here?"

"Right here."

"Now?"

"Right now."

"But..."

"Do you like your job?"

"Yes, Cl ... Ms. Dupree."

"Strip."

Miranda reluctantly began unbuttoning her suit coat. Clare lightly tapped her foot with impatience but seemed to enjoy the shy striptease. Soon Miranda stood in lacy uplift bra and panties in a tight boyish style that badly covered her generous ass.

"All of it."

"Please."

"I have a robe."

The lingerie joined the pile of other clothes and Miranda stood amply in café leche skin, high round breasts crowned with purple aureolas and very long nipples; a bell-shaped ass that jiggled with every step and a thick, curling bush that rose to a treasure trail pointing to the wide hollow of her navel. Clare offered the robe and the ripe body was eclipsed.

"Where shall we do the test?"

There were several comfortable chairs in the room and a low couch in white leather. Casey suggested a magnificent leather chair. It was more than a chair.

"We don't want to bias the experiment with the effects this chair might add; however, the chair can provide music that will coordinate with the wand.

"The chair it is, then." 

They escorted Miranda to the magic chair but did not activate its massage features.

"Miranda," Casey said, "Choose your favorite romantic music. Speak the title or the singer's name clearly."

Miranda spoke the name of a popular Colombian singer of salsa tunes and romantic ballads. The tune she chose began to play in the hidden speakers on the chair.

"Now Miranda, you know what you can do with this 'toy?'"

"Oh yes."

"Well this one has some special features. It is designed to know when you need the vibration to be stronger or softer, but you can also control it by squeezing or stroking it, either with your hands, or your mouth and tongue, or ..."

"I know."

"Also, you can feel a little hollow near the tip. If you place this over your nipple, or your ..."

"I think I know ... OH, yes, I know."

Casey and Clare drew up chairs near Miranda's feet, out of the immediate line of her vision. At first, Miranda tried to stroke herself discreetly within the folds of the plush robe. But soon she lost all inhibition, the robe falling open to reveal nipples already swollen hard and below, in the rich curly foliage, thick purple lips hiding shocking pink edged crevice already open and weeping. After her initial shyness Casey expected Miranda to need plenty of time to warm to the situation. But within minutes her thick hair was loose upon the cushions. She filled her mouth with the wand and sucked it gently. 

She then applied the secret hollow to one swollen purple nipple. Soon she was lost in the sensation and Casey could see small shocks clench her ample belly. Glancing over at Clare Casey was surprised to see her making notes on her Blackberry and murmuring into it. 

Miranda's bushy mound was now rising eagerly in rhythm to the sensation as she let the wand tickle the smooth skin around it. When the wand finally touched her swollen clit she let out a little yelp. Clare's eyes widened as the wand recognized the curves of its user. Solid glass stretched and shrank and disappeared between the swollen purple lips. It almost seemed to crawl out of her hand, a cock with its own mind. Miranda was lost, eyes rolling back as the thing, almost alive, squirmed into her tender places. Soon they were slick with her own juice. Her knees splayed out and her mouth gaped wide. Thick thighs began to shake and quiver, going into hard spasms lifting her hips high, buttocks clenched tight. 

She lost control as the orgasm hit like a shot.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh GOD, please, please! NOW!!"

The pale honey flowed out around her hand. 

Aftershocks shook her again and again.

Casey knew there would be a spot on his trousers when he stood up. Clare seemed cool as a cucumber, but Casey noticed that her nostrils were edge in white. As Miranda fell into a doze Clare turned to him.

"I'd like to try a little experiment. You have said the wand is suited to the person. But what if another, a lover, say, applies a different wand? Do you see what I am driving at?"

"Of course, I see. That wand would carry the "current" of the other, as it were. Will you do the honors?"

"Well, perhaps ..."

Clare took the black vibrator and turned it on. A fierce expression appeared as she approached the drowsing Miranda. The black wand touched the side of Miranda's neck and her eyes popped open. Clare teased Miranda's lips with the thick knob, pushing it inside, filling Miranda's mouth, causing her to gag as it slid deep into her throat. 

Soon she was sucking it so hungrily that streams of spit oozed out around it and ran down her chin. Her cheeks were deeply hollowed. She gurgled.

"It can be filled with a warm flavored syrup so that at the height of her ecstacy it actually ..."

"squirts." Clare smiled and made a note.

Casey tried to drop a hand in front of his trousers to cover his erection. Clare noticed.

"Dr. Darden, will you please offer Miranda a real cock to suck on. This is proving nothing."

Casey hesitated.

"I insist. Stand here where I am. Let's see what you've got."

Casey was caught between embarrassment and lust. He moved into position and unzipped.

"Good. That will do fine. And I have it on excellent authority that Miranda is quite talented at this."

"Please drop your trousers, Dr, Darden. I would like to observe the whole package. There. Thank you."

Casey felt quite foolish, but in a moment he didn't care. Miranda was hoovering his rod with amazing expertise. Meanwhile, Clare had plunged her black dildo into the swollen cunt. Casey watched, intoxicated as Miranda's thick labia actually clenched around the toy in imitation of what she was doing with her mouth. Casey began to lose it in a big way. Roars were coming from his throat. His balls were aching and tight to his body. Something in the back of his mind said he should hold off for his major client but it was too late. As Clare purposefully drove the dildo hard and fast, Miranda's moans joined Casey's roar. Thick ropes of semen poured into her open mouth and she swallowed again and again.




Doctor of Desire Ch. 08



Casey must have actually passed out for a moment. When he came to his senses Miranda was gone and he was stretched out in the "magic" leather chair. Clare sat opposite him sipping her champagne. His pants were missing.

"Champagne?"

"Thank you, I'm very dry."

"I can imagine. Not refillable like those fancy dildo's, more's the pity."

Casey was determined to remain cool. Clare handed him the champagne flute.

"Bottom's up. Oh, and thank you. That was a very satisfactory demonstration. And now, if you are ready, I have asked Melissa to join us. I would like the two of you to demonstrate this."

With her manicured finger she pointed over her shoulder at the spiderlike contraption in the middle of the room.

Casey raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps I could replace my trousers."

"Oh no, that would be foolish under the circumstances. Ah, here's Melissa. But before you begin the demonstration please do me the favor of choosing one of these."

She held out another inlaid box that contained more glass wands. These were slightly slimmer but just as elegantly made. Casey frowned.

"You want me ..."

"Yes please. I think you will need it."

Melissa had arrived at his side and smiled with a kitten's grin as he touched the toys. Curiously, some felt 'wrong' and others generated a tightening in his groin. He wanted to take the slim blue aquatic themed one but Clare shook her head. She nodded at a thick gold wand.

"I would figure that that is your weapon."

She was right. It seemed to fit his hand perfectly and he felt a small surge of power as he turned it on.

Clare held out her hand.

"Thank you, I'll hold that for you now. Please begin the demonstration. We don't have all night. Melissa?"

"You want me to ..."

"Of course."

"I need to change to the vinyl suit."

"Perhaps not. Let's play it by ear."

Melissa was wearing an elegant outfit with a tailored jacket, a ruffled blouse and a straight skirt with just a bit of a slit in it.

"But ..."

"If anything is damaged you know I will replace it with something better. Please. Dr. Darden?"

Feeling quite foolish Casey led Melissa to the device. He helped her remove the jacket. He noticed she was breathing a bit heavily but trying to disguise it. This excited him, causing his sore organ to puff up a bit. 

He decided to ignore it. He used a calming voice.

"OK. Stand right here. Face away from the device. Legs shoulder width apart. Raise your arms. Good. Hold that pose."

Casey turned to the device and spoke to Clare.

"We have not been able to conceive of a better name for this than The Rack. It sounds a bit sinister, calling up those uncomfortable machines used in the Inquisition to stretch bodies into uncomfortable positions for the sake of torture."

He moved the arms of the Rack behind Melissa.

"Put your heel here please, Melissa. Lay your wrist here. But this Rack is ergonomically designed to allow the user to be most comfortable in almost any position. Melissa, this goes behind your head, but this can cup your chin if your weight is the other way. The same is true of knees, buttocks, hips and so on. The entire device is made of woven and bonded nanofiber and it is anchored so that any position of the body can be achieved with virtually no effort."

Casey gave a little tug and Melissa gasped. She was now on her back about six feet in the air.

"The motion can be controlled by the person using the device or by another."

Clare smiled.

"Can it be locked?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can the ... restraints that hold the subject to the Rack be locked so that the subject cannot ..."

Casey brought Melissa back to the standing position.

"The device can be locked in this position by a voice command. Both partners must speak the command. Do you wish to see it activated?"

"Not at present. Please demonstrate how you would use the Rack."

"The Rack is pre-programmed with a full slate of positions drawn from the Kama Sutra. So all I need to do is utter the voice command 'Kama Sutra seven'..."

The Rack gave a gentle purr and Melissa was positioned on her back with her legs together and pointed straight at the ceiling.

"...or Kama Sutra twenty-one, popularly known as cowgirl ..."

Melissa, in mid air hung in a kneeling position, legs spread, skirt hiked up around her hips.

"... or of course Kama Sutra one, missionary ..."

Clare was becoming a bit impatient.

"Yes, I see, and the partner ..."

"Can roam freely around the subject, lie on this custom bench that adjusts ..."

Casey sat on the bench and brought Melissa down onto his lap facing him.

"One partner need never worry about the other's weight."

He bounced Melissa playfully on his lap.

"And the double device?"

Clare pointed. There was a second Rack attached to the first, carefully folded.

"Of course it is best used by experts who..."

"Yes, but I would like to see it demonstrated."

"We hadn't planned ..."

"You hadn't planned ..."

"It's your company."

"Yes it is. Please."

Casey opened the second Rack and stood before it. He managed to strap himself into the device.

"I would like to see a demonstration of the locking mechanism."

"Is this really ...?

"Please. The passwords."

"Selfish and Witch."

"Clever. Are you ready?"

"Selfish"

"Witch."

Casey felt the restraints tighten just a bit.

"And for Melissa's"

"Angry and Bitch"

"Of course. Angry."

Melissa hesitated.

"Angry."

Nothing

"Do you like your job? Good. Angry?"

"Bitch."

"And now, what would show the range of this thing? Kama Sutra six? Kama Sutra twenty-seven? Kama Sutra thirty-eight?"

As Clare spoke Casey and Melissa were spun into each new position. For a few moments it was amusing but then lost its luster. Then Clare's eyes lit up and a sly smile appeared.

"Hmm, how about Kama Sutra sixty-nine?"

A disembodied voice came from nowhere.

"A or B?"

"Let's try Kama Sutra 69A."

The Rack maneuvered so that Casey was on his back with his face opposite Melissa's crotch.

"No, no. I have a better idea. Kama Sutra 69B."

The position was reversed with Melissa below him. His cock was position neatly against her lips while he studied the bunched fabric of her skirt.

"There is no reason this game need be restricted only to two. Let's see..."

Clare stepped in and easily tilted both of them so that Melissa's legs were in the air and Casey hovered almost standing. Neither could use their hands. Clare tugged Melissa skirt around her waist revealing a skimpy thong. With surprisingly strong hands Clare snapped the cord that crept between Melissa's buttocks revealing a shaved pudendum except for a curly red runway strip. She pushed the lovely, tapering legs far apart. Then she moved Casey's mouth so his lips barely brushed Melissa's clit.

"Mm, perfect. Lick, please."

Casey complied. Goosebumps appeared on Melissa's mons.

"Please continue. Your best technique. I must know if you can overcome what is probably an uncomfortable position for Ms. Brand."

Casey applied himself and soon little grunts and gasps were coming from below him. Casey was hoping that Melissa was one of those women for whom the rush of blood to the head was a turn on. Meanwhile, Clare had tilted his hips so that his balls felt the hot breath coming from Melissa's nostrils.

"Suck on his balls, please. That's right. They have already done serious work today. Please, do what you're told. That's a good girl. No? I insist. Melissa. Oh, if I must."

Clare stepped away and returned with a small riding crop. It was designed to match the favorite one of Spanish leather she always carried when training her Lippizaners. She applied a couple of swift strokes to Melissa's behind and the insides of her spread thighs. Melissa's cunt surged against Casey's mouth.

"Suck!"

"Please Clare."

"Do as you're told. Suck slut!"

Another swift switch and Melissa was sucking with enthusiasm. Clare positioned Melissa's right hand.

"Jerk him."

"Dr. Darden, stick your tongue inside. Deep. She likes that. Don't you, you angry little bitch."

Casey was getting nice and hard again and he wanted Melissa's hot mouth around his shaft but Clare made Melissa tickle his balls with her tongue.

"Yesss, that's good." Clare's voice was husky. "Lick farther back. That's right. Open up that little pucker. Yesss, do to him what he is doing to you."

Casey felt Melissa's firm tongue point squirm against his asshole.

"Here, let me help."

Clare tilted the Rack so that Casey's ass lifted and his cheeks spread wide. His cock dropped into Melissa's mouth and she took it eagerly. She was more delicate than Miranda had been but in her position she was able to take him deep into her throat. Then Casey heard what he knew he had known was coming, a mild, hypnotic buzzing. A finger pushed a bit of ointment against his asshole and it began to warm.

"Remember this one, Dr. Darden, just a bit of balm to relax those tight muscles."

Something smooth and buzzing was pushing against the pucker of his ass. A jolt made his cock rock hard. The head swelled causing Melissa to gag and gasp for air.

"Take it again!"

There was a "crack!" and Melissa's cunt pushed hard against his mouth, her lips swallowed his cock and the golden wand dove deep into his ass. It didn't take much. As from a distance he felt himself let loose. Vibrations made him helpless to resist squeezing every bit of juice deep down Melissa's throat. His lips clamped on her clit as her belly popped again and again. He wanted to clasp her to him but he could only gasp and stare as her legs tensed and shook. She was screaming, but it wasn't with anger or fear or pain.

A touch from Clare returned them to a position lying on the floor side by side gasping for breath. She stood above them sipping her champagne.

"Excellent. Excellent demonstration. Are we ready for this next product? What is this great hobby horse? Beautiful wood sculpture but perhaps a bit silly?"

Clare handed Casey his pants.

"Why don't you go clean up a bit? I'll call Ellie. Isn't she the product manager for this kiddie toy? Melissa, please send her here. Then you may go."

Melissa rose as though drugged but did her best to regain her poise. Before he left Casey whispered simple instructions in her ear. Casey went off to the boudoir where he had a very welcome shower. He wished dearly that Melissa was taking it with him. 

When he returned, Clare was sitting with a really tiny young woman with frizzy blond hair. They were both smoking, which surprised Casey and he said so.

"Oh these aren't tobacco. They are actually one of the demonstration products, didn't you know? But of course not, how could you? We can't market these, yet, in the States, though my people are working on it. They provide a cocktail of very mild stimulants unique to women's physiology. So, how do you feel, Ms. Gardener?"

"Much more relaxed, kind of warm, especially .. places, and sort of ... hungry.

"Doctor Darden, will you take this small tablet?"

"Could we, perhaps ask one of the other male staff members. I am a bit sore, and..."

"Perfect, under the circumstances. The pill please."

Casey knew his duty and popped the pill. Within seconds he was rock hard. Clare smiled.

"That is impressive. No waiting for the effects to kick in. Doctor, please lie down on the padded bench. Ms. Gardner, you say you have never had an orgasm, even by yourself."

"No, Ms. Dupree. I try and try and nothing happens. I've lost boyfriends. They call me the popsicle."

"Mmm, yes. You're perfect. Now please drop your underwear and go mount Dr. Darden."

"That sounds so dry and unromantic. I mean, he's cute and all, but ..."

"Humor me, Ms. Gardner. It's research."

"Oh, of course. I'll try and, and ..., I'll try."

Perky and cute, she stood beside Casey. He heard the soft sound of the panties falling on the floor.

"Do I face, like, toward his face, or like, the other way?"

"It's your choice, Ms. Gardner."

"Hmm. I guess I'll face him. His feet aren't so interesting. OK, here goes."

She swung a leg over Casey and hovered above his hips.

"Is there a problem, Miss Gardner? Are you not lubricated?"

Ellie reached a shy hand under her skirt.

"No. Yes, I'm just, fine, actually ... It's just ..."

"What?"

"We haven't really been introduced, really."

Casey smiled up at her.

"Hi. I'm Casey."

"Hi, I'm Ellie."

"Hi, Ellie. Are you ready?"

"Sort of. OK. Here goes nothing."

Casey put his hand on her hips and she gave a little shiver.

"Oh."

She lowered herself halfway down his cock.

"Oh!"

She settled on his hips. 

OH!!!

She came hard, not a genteel shudder or even a soft, deep moan. Her toes curled. Her legs shook. Her hips rocked back and forth as her mons ground into Casey's pubes. Her belly flexed. Her nipples puckered. Her breath shuddered in heavy pants. Her hands clutched Casey's hips and pulled them tight against her. Her mouth stretched wide and she positively howled. She gushed. Then she collapsed on Casey's chest.

Clare was taking notes on her Blackberry®.

"Very effective but perhaps the dose is a bit strong. Still..."

Clare picked up Ellie's 'cigarette' and brought it to her.

"Miss Gardner, please take a small puff of this."

Ellie was slowly coming out of her post orgasm daze. Casey was surprised that his cock was still poker hard though at the moment he had little urge to come. Ellie lifted her head and puffed from the 'cigarette' in Clare's slim finger. Casey felt her body stiffen.

"Oh no. Oh, yes!!"

Within seconds she was grinding energetically, expertly pushing his cock against her G-spot. Seconds later she came again, gushing over his legs. Clare waited a few moments and insisted on the 'cigarette' again, this time with Ellie facing Casey's feet. Her third orgasm was as huge as her first.

Casey wanted to object as the "experiment" went on and on. Clare had Ellie take seven more positions: now Casey was on top, now sitting facing her, now behind, legs in the air, legs tight together. Every time Ellie went into full freaking orgasm. Finally Melissa stepped in and suggested that the product had proved effective. Ellie was reduced to a limp doll as Melissa led her to one of the large sofas where she fell into deep slumber. But even in her dreams she continued to come.

Clare talked into her Blackberry®.

"Product very effective but must be evaluated for dosage. Sample may be too strong. Consider time release for more appropriate use. May not be as effective on ...more mature clients. Erection pill very effective."

This last was true and Casey was more than grateful when Melissa brought him the 'antidote', which immediately shrank his sore organ.

Clare smiled at him like a cat who has swallowed a canary.

"Well, this has been a useful demonstration. Unfortunately for you, you have 'shot your bolt.' No stories to go back and tell your buddies about sexually conquering the Iron Queen, or whatever they call me now. Melissa, you can tell everyone they have kept their jobs, for the nonce. Shall we call it a night?"

"If you wish. We did have one other item should you desire to test it."

"Perhaps so."

"You are ready to continue?"

"More than ready."

Melissa took the lead, giving Casey a barely perceptible wink behind Clare's back.

"Our last product is very special; perhaps too special for the general public. It was designed to your tastes and personal interests, so there is some question as to how we might tailor it for a wider audience."

Clare gave her pussycat smile.

"Let me be the judge of that. You know that my people would ride tricycles through hell if I told them it was 'the thing', though I admit, sometimes my tastes may be a bit in advance of the general public."

Melissa handed Clare an elegant clothing box.

"That is what I imagined. So, if you are willing to play the part... we sincerely need your expert opinion. These are your riding pinks and there is your steed."

Melissa indicated the great sculpted horse.

"Although we know that you enjoy riding in all weathers and terrains it is not always possible, for instance, in the middle of an icy winter. So our imagineers have crafted this 'animal' to provide the closest experience we could devise to that of riding, in this case, a real fox hunt. The screens there surround you and the helmet's visor provides a true three dimensional experience."

A tiny frown appeared in Clare's carefully smooth brow.

"All this hi-tech foolishness really doesn't interest me."

Melissa smiled.

"I understand. Perhaps this is not the right thing for you..."

"Nonsense, I'm willing to give it a try. Will you help me change?"

"Surely, if you like ..."

Casey relaxed as the women retired to the boudoir. It seemed that it took quite a while for them to return. There was a bit of color in Clare's cheeks.

"The boots are a bit of a tight fit, and these jodhpurs could be a second skin. What we you thinking? I couldn't possibly appear in public in these."

It was true. Casey could see that the pants molded Clare's well toned ass, disappearing deep into its crack and her mons revealed every hair of her careful brazilian. Melissa gave her a bit of a pat.

"But Clare, these are not meant to be seen in public. They are just for you and whoever you choose to show them to. Are they comfortable?

"Strangely, really quite, although sometimes ... oh yes, I tried those funny cigarettes. Really no effect on me. Shall we?"

"Mount up."

Clare stepped into the decorative stirrup and swung into the saddle. Melissa handed her the helmet while Casey activated the screen. A blurry image of a great open meadow seen from a hilltop appeared. Clare suddenly seemed surrounded by other figures on horseback led by the master of the hunt, a majestic African man in skin-tight riding pants and a loose ruffled shirt that fluttered over his naked chest. He lifted a small golden horn to his lips. Dogs surged down the hill in pursuit of a genuine fox.

Clare's 'horse' was moving this way and that, mimicking the real thing so well that she needed all her skill to keep her seat. It lurched forward and soon she was moving as though at a full gallop. Walls appeared to be leaped and streams to be jumped. As the ride continued she seemed to lose herself, calling out to the horse, even whipping it with her crop. But every so often she cast a glance over at Casey and Melissa. Her breathing, which was fast with effort, slowed, deepened. Across a long meadow the master of the hunt rode directly in front of her. His shirt had disappeared and his broad back was covered with sweat. Clare's hips began to move in a new motion and the 'horse' rose to meet them. The African appeared to melt into the horse, so that Clare was riding a great centaur that turned and embraced her all a full gallop.

Clare began to plead:

"Please. Please, I need... Please. Please fill me. Oh, I need you to fill me. Oh, you great beast, fill me up."

Casey looked at Melissa.

"No, Doctor, you have done your best today. And I have a little surprise for Clare. I apologize for not telling you. Those pants she is wearing? They have a 'magic' fabric that can stretch and stiffen in certain ways. She could control it from the horse, but she doesn't know that. I have another control here."

Melissa turned a small knob on an elegant, wood-trimmed remote. Clare gave a little shout. 

"She has been penetrated. Now I can start it pulsing in and out with this..."

Clare's eyes rolled up in her head and she started howling like one of the hounds. Melissa gave a little grin.

"A certain source gave us Clare's exact 'inner dimensions', shall we say, so that I can adjust this to fill her completely, and then some."

Melissa fiddled with the dials.




Doctor of Desire Ch. 08



"Hooooo ly shiiiiit!"

Clare's eyes were up in her head as her body convulsed again and again. Melissa discreetly took out a digital camera and snapped Clare with her mouth open in a hungry scream; Clare ripping her blouse open so she could squeezed her nipples; Clare clutching at her clit with both hands.

"That was insurance, in case she decides to fire me or someone I particularly like. And now a little payback, although she is sure to like it more than you did."

Melissa turned a second dial on the console. She didn't do it gently. Then she stabbed the pulse button.

"The anal probe."

"OH MY GOD!!!!!!!"

For a few moments Clare's body danced like a puppet, her face red with ecstacy. It was good that the suite was solidly soundproofed or else her yowls would have been heard in Provincetown. With a last loud shout she collapsed on the 'horse's' silky mane.

Casey and Melissa lifted her gently down and carried her to the chaise in her boudoir. She was deep, deep asleep.

As Melissa closed the door she took Casey's hand.

"Congratulations, dear doctor. I think that was an excellent demonstration, don't you? Let me tell the staff their jobs are safe. I'll have Miranda make up your check and royalty contract. And now, perhaps you would crack open another bottle of the Chateau Memmie? There is also some lovely beluga and paté in the fridge. And then, perhaps, if you have the energy ... well, I've always wanted to try number 48." 



Doctor of Desire Ch. 09



Chapter 9: The Farmer's Daughter

Dr. Casey Darden was supposed to be off duty, as far from the bustle of Boston as he could get within a half-day's drive; rolling Hills of Western Mass.; the yoga center down the way where he had had a spectacular massage that morning by a sturdy Chinese woman who spoke almost no English.

Now he sat on the porch of his log cabin on the lake sipping a frozen daiquiri just watching the afternoon turn into evening; listening to the crickets. He felt zero need for companionship.

The growl of an engine rose on the other side of the pine forest and after a while a dusty, battered blue pickup crept up the unpaved road. It pulled up in front of his place and stopped. At first no one got out. Behind the glass of the double windshield Casey could make out a couple arguing with each other. Finally, the passenger door burst open and a woman in her fifties, a bit shop-worn but strong and attractive, lurched out and headed straight for Casey. She stopped in front of him, panting a bit.

"Can I help you? Is there some kind of trouble?"

"Might be. You that sex doctor? Got to be, I figure."

Casey nodded.

"Yes, well. She said you'd be up here."

The woman went silent. Casey just waited, rocking in his chair.

"We think, I think maybe you can help us."

Casey shook his head.

"This is my time off. I really hadn't planned ..."

"Figured you might say that. How about ten thousand dollars?"

The woman pulled a sheaf of bills out of her pocket and started counting. Casey noticed that the man in the truck was pounding the steering wheel.

"No. I couldn't."

"Look, Mister doctor. I can't go higher, but this thing has to be done."

"Are you and your husband ... having troubles?"

"Oh, he's always trouble, randy old goat. But he's fine, and I'm fine too, even if I am getting the change. Makes things easier as it is. Nev'mind. That ain't it. It's her."

"I'm sorry. Has your husband taken up with ..."

"Landsakes no. Least, not that I know of. No, it's not him. It's her."

Casey looked around, but there was no one else in the truck.

"Oh, no, she ain't here. She's back to the farm with her animals. All she ever cares about. I said, "I hear there's a nice lookin' doc down the road a piece. She don't even look up. Debeaking chicks. Waves me away like I was a fly."

"So she's happy. How can I ..."

"Sure she looks happy but I figure she ain't complete. She's most thirty-two and ain't got a fella; don't even have one come round for a 'visit'. An' she don't seem to be the kind with a ken for girls. We got some a them around here. Good people if you don't think about what they's doin'. I'm talkin' too much. Wastin' your time."

She dusted off her skirt and headed back toward the truck. Casey stood.

"I can talk to her."

"How much will that cost me? You figure you can get her sexed up with talk? I've heared a that."

Casey smiled.

"Nothing, to start with, though I'll bet you make a fine apple pie. That would do it."

The woman stopped, her skirt in her hands.

"Well, yeah. I could do that. Why don't you come to supper?"

Casey nodded. The woman came back to him, offered her hand.

"I'm Margaret. Margaret Deacons. That there is Abner in the truck. Our girl is Margaret too, but we call her Maggie. Son Billie died in the war."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"Yes. Well you take your road out to nine. Go north about sixteen mile to twenty-three. West another 10. Off on Old Oak. Left at the end. On till you see a yalla house and a green barn. That's us. Seven o'clock."

"Seven o'clock."

Casey went for a quick swim, put on long pants and picked some flowers, then headed for the Deacons'.

He only got lost three times. Had to ask directions at a crossroads. There was a man, or a boy standing out in a field stuffing a scarecrow with corn shucks. Casey shouted twice but the boyman didn't even look up. It was getting dark and Casey didn't want to wander dark country lanes. He climbed a fence and walked toward the fellow. It wasn't until he got close that he realize the guy was huge. Towered over him. Had a huge forehead.

"Excuse me. I'm lost and need to find the Deacons' place. Can you help me?"

The boyman shook his head.

You don't know?

"Didn't say that."

"You know the Deacons' place?"

"Mmmhmm."

"But you won't help me?"

"Didn't say that."

"So can you ...?"

"'M not so good at directions. I can do, not so good at tellin'."

"You could show me."

"Nope. gotta do this, 'fore I lose ma corn."

"Try something for me, will you. Close your eyes. Tell me how you would walk there."

"OK. I climb the fence. I go thata way till I hit the crick. Take a drink. Swim if'n it's hot. Along the crick to the covered bridge. Go through the bridge and past those apple trees. Eat some apples if they is any. Go to the red barn on the side where you see the cigarettes is Deacons back pasture road. That bumps into the house near the bull paddock. 

Get me some pie. Give 'em the corn."

"Now those were fine directions. Don't let anybody tell you you can't give them. Thank you."

"Sure."

"Your name?"

"Dinnie."

"Thanks again, Dinnie."

"Sure."

Casey followed Dinnie's directions to the letter and soon found himself in a barnyard next to a yellow house surrounded by free-range chickens. 

Mrs. Deacons had him wash up even though he was clean. The house was clean. Scrubbed. Time and careworn, but clean.

Abner Deacons came in with a pail of warm milk. He poured it into a crock and set it on a low shelf in the refrigerator. Most of the kitchen was right out of a 1940s Norman Rockwell illustration. The refrigerator was new and huge. Mrs. Deacons saw him looking at it. 

"We grow a heapa vegetables. Can't sell them all. Can't eat the rest right away. I blanche 'em and freeze or can 'em. Keep a long time. Where is that girl? I don't knock her in the head and make her eat, she'll stay out in that fancy barn of hers a week.

"Maggeee! You come on in! I got biscuits and gravy and we got company."

Abner came back from washing up.

"That was dumb."

Mrs. Deacons nodded, shook her head."

"You're right. If'n she knows she got to get gussied up for strangers she'll hide or bolt. Eat raw eggs from under the chickens, milk from a teat, apple off the tree. Mebbe she didn't hear."

At that moment loud footsteps came down the stairs. Maggie Deacons stepped into the kitchen. She had to duck her head. She was very big; not fat, not chunky, just big. She wore clean overalls and a checkered shirt opened low enough to reveal some serious cleavage. Otherwise, she was all business. She took one look at Casey and shook her head as though to clear it. But then she smiled and the warmth of it filled the room. She put out a hand.

"Dr. Darden, welcome to our little farm."

Casey stood just short of eye to eye with her. Her handshake enclosed his and her palm was a bit rough.

"My pleasure. I don't know many people around here and that pie smells delicious. Whatever else is cooking, too."

"Mama's real good in the kitchen. Some folks blame her for how big I got. Say she feeds me up like I was a pet steer. Only I ain't much good to eat."

Casey smiled. Maggie offered him the quickest wink, but her parents didn't see it.

"I'm sure statuesque women run in your family."

"Well now that's right nice. 'Statuesque', I like that. Ma, the man thinks I resemble a work of art."

"Oh, I'm sure he knows how to talk to the ladies, his line of work."

"Mebbe so, but it sounds good anyways. Hey, let's eat."

It was a fine meal; a fragrant meatloaf, flavored with fresh rosemary. Fat orange yams with their own butter. Thick spears of asparagus that Maggie swallowed in one bite. Biscuits. And the apple pie.

Casey couldn't but admire Maggie as he watched her put away her meal in a hearty, relaxed way. She was all that a man could want in a woman and then some. Her skin glowed with freshness. She had an amazing smile, thick, red-blond hair, and she was smart. This wasn't just some dummy who daydreamed and slopped pigs and fed chickens. She was up on the latest ideas in animal husbandry and seemed to know A-Z about breeding, cows, horses, pigs, sheep, chickens, and goats. Casey was beginning to think he should go back to his cabin and just let time allow some smart, hearty farmer to find Maggie.

"I don't got much use for men." Maggie wiped a slick of butter from her full bottom lip.

Mrs. Deacons put a full basket of biscuits in front of Casey.

"Oh, come on, hon. Don't outright challenge the man. He's here to eat, not sweep you off your feet. Well. I'm a poet and don't know it."

"Doubt if he could sweep me off my feet if he tried. Might work t'other way around, if I'd a mind to it."

"Stubborn, that one." Mr. Deacons grumbled and stabbed himself a slice of ham. "Gets everything in a family way 'cept herself. Never figured I'd cheer for someone to knock her up, but time's wastin' and the Deacon line could go dead. Farm go right back to woods."

"Oh, hush paw, why don't you and me go in the parlor to eat our pie. Let the young folks talk."

"I'm comfortable here and ain't finished my ham and taters."

"Lord, man, you're thicker than a oak stump. Get your big rump in that parlor."

"Woman, you know I ain't dumb. Hesh yourself. I'm comin'."

Casey and Maggie were left sitting over the feast while grumbles came from the next room. Maggie wasn't shy about eating and Casey found it a pleasure to watch those strong lips and teeth make the food disappear. They ate in silence for a while. Finally Maggie spoke up.

"Seems like you and I have sort of similar professions, only you, if I understand right, work with people while I do it with animals."

She gave him a wide grin.

"I don't mean that the way it sounds, although..."

Casey took a bite of pie.

"I thought that animals just "took care of business" when nature rang a little bell. Not a lot of psychology to it."

Maggie shook her head.

"You'd think. But breeding animals isn't just like letting them follow nature's way. You want this one to mate with that one, but they don't always ... well, hell, let me show you. Like Paw would say, "time's a wastin.'"

She grabbed his hand with some force and in a moment he found himself rushing across a big, well-kept barnyard to a large red barn with two silos. Maggie explained as she went.

"You see, Angus McCracken, over Pottersville way brought in this really fine filly he hopes will be a money makin' brood mare. And he is right, she has some fine lines and a solid pedigree. But she ain't never been with a stallion before. And I got Sergeant here, who's about as nice a piece of horse flesh as you'd want to see. He's not shy. But he's just as likely to spook Dovey there and she'll take off a runnin' if she can. So we got to practice some diplomacy here.

"Here's how you can help me out. You OK with horses? Not spooked by 'em or anything?"

Casey shook his head. It was an adventure.

"Alright then. You go over there and stand by Dovey's paddock. I got a hood on her so she won't be so skittish, but she still could rear some once she starts to hear Sergeant get worked up. So you hold her down and pat her nice on her nose. She likes that, especially from a man. Meanwhile, I'm gonna get Sergeant ready to mount this dummy here."

She indicated a large padded barrel with a hole at one end and a cutout horses head at the other.

"The idea is he gets started on this and then we switch him over just as he's ready to let go. So when I tell you, but not before, you bring Dovey over here right next to this thing. You ready? Let's do it!"

Maggie went into Sergeant's paddock and Casey could here the stallion stomping around a bit and Maggie's calming voice. A few moments later, Maggie led the magnificent beast out into the breeding area. Casey noticed that the stallion's thick, black member was hanging down almost to the ground.

Maggie tethered Sergeant to the post next to the mare's stall and positioned the dummy next to it. She began to whisper in the stallion's ear and stroke his neck, then his back, then his flank. She took a tube of lubricant and squeezed a huge dollop into her hand and began gently stroking the animals great black scrotum and then down its cock, now beginning to reach it's full size. Casey had never realized that the penis of a horse ended in a large bell shape. He felt a little shiver up his spine as he imagined that thick flange spreading the tender insides of a mare.

Sergeant began to whinny and stamp. His tail whipped the air. Maggie gentled him with her voice while maintaining her firm stroking of his yard-long rod. It began to drip.

He was ready.

Maggy let him approach the dummy. In a second he had mounted it, his huge haunches lifting the long impressive body now beginning to shine with sweat.

"Hold her tight and bring her around behind me," Maggie murmured.

The mare tossed her head as she was led. It took all of Casey's strength to lead her. Sergeant was beginning to hump with a rhythm.

"Quickly now, lead her up here beside him. Come right at me and stop. If he's got a lick of brains he'll jump her the second her rump brushes his cock. Now!"

The little mare slid up next to the stallion. Maggie tugged the stallion's halter rope and he slid sideways onto the mare. After a couple of false tries he found his mark. The flared bell slid into the mare's pursed opening. Dovey staggered under Sergeant's weight as he began pumping eagerly. His teeth gnawed at her neck. Casey was crushed hard against Maggie as they both held tight to their charges, the fierce motion of horse sex vibrating down the ropes. The night had grown warm and they had both worked up a sweat. Maggie's healthy woman smell mingled with that of hay and horse.

"He's still going. He's going to give her a good load." Maggie smiled. "Hey, I can see all this is getting to you a little bit."

Casey actually turned a little red. Indeed, his own organ, modest by horse standards, was tenting his trousers. Maggie brushed it with her free hand.

'S'OK, it's natural. Happens to the best of us. This is some pretty heady stuff. Little later maybe we can do something about that. Right now it looks like Sarge is done.

The stallion had draped himself on the mare for a bit, wrung out. Now he slipped off, the great penis now limp and dripping. Dovey nuzzled his neck with her soft muzzle.

"You take her back to her stall and give her some fresh hay from the loft above it. I'll stow Sarge and then I got to take care of Dobbin. He always gets jealous and needs a little too, but being as he isn't breeding material we don't keep his stuff.

Casey had the mare bedded down and was about to open her stall gate when he was brought up short by the sight of Maggie with a big-headed chestnut stallion with spots on his rump. Maggie had Dobbin up on the dummy mare and had his short, thick dick in both hands, stroking like crazy. Clearly she wanted to get the old horse off fast, and clearly she had done this many times before. Dobbin started pumping, as Maggie encouraged him, coaxing, "Come, come on now, come on boy."

Just as the stallion let loose Maggie tripped against the dummy, right in the line of fire. Her impressive cleavage was coated with thick ropes of white goo that dribbled down her front onto her legs. At that moment she caught Casey's eye. He was trying hard not to laugh.

He needn't have worried. She beamed her huge smile. "Hey! Grab that hose over there and wash this gunk off me. Not the first time Dobbin has done the deed on me. That's good. Turn it on and just wash me down."

Casey did as he was asked, playing the cool water over her bosom until her blouse was a second skin and her strawberry sized nipples stood up firm.

"A little harder, please. We'll never get this stuff off at this rate. Twist that nozzle. Oh yeah, that's better. Hit this one. That's right. Just play it around some right there. Now the other one. Oh, that's good. Now run it down my belly. Good, wash it all down. Keep on doing that. That's right. Clean up this old skirt."

Maggie was leaning back against the mare dummy with her eyes closed, arms stretched out to the sides. The jet of water had found the hollow just below her pubic bone firmly outlined by the wet cloth.

"Please, please keep that right there until I tell you to stop."

Casey did as he was told and Maggie tilted her hips up and rocked them against the water. Her bud had swollen and Casey could see it was as big as his thumb. 

Maggie was smiling a heavenly smile now, peering at him with wet eyes from beneath half closed lids. Something seismic seemed to rock her for a moment. The dummy rattled as her hips jerked against it.

"Come here," she commanded in a low growl. "Turn that thing off and grab that crate over there. Put it right here in front of me."

Casey did it.

"Now please help me. Sit right there. Take your strongest hand and bring your fingers together in a point like the head of a goose. That's good. Let me suck on 'em a little bit. 

Casey felt her strong lips surround his fingers and apply real suction. His cock was jealous of his fingers.

"Fine. Now I want you to run that goose up the inside of my leg. That's a good boy. Oh, keep goin'. Now, please, work those fingertips into that soft place."

Casey's fingertips reached the plump nether lips covered with thick curls. They were already soaked with water and Maggie's own slippery juice. The goose's beak pushed them apart and found the more tender lips between. Liquid ran down into his palm. He twisted a little and Maggie spread her knees, lowering herself, pushing down as his knuckles met a bit of resistance. With a 'pop' his whole hand was inside.

"Ahhhhh!" 

Maggie's eyes turned up in her head.

"Now make a fist," Maggie urged.

"Are you sure? I don't have small hands"

"Let's give it a try. Oh lord, that's just fine. Now..."

"I know what to do."

Casey let his arm find a natural rhythm as her strong legs did much of the work. He closed his eyes and imagined himself the great black horse plunging into the strong little filly. Maggie began to make a fierce sound, half moan, half growl.

"Yes, oh, yes, oh please. Now, now, pull this off ..."

She was tearing at the wet fabric covering her breast.

"Take it off. Please, now, take it off!"

Casey exposed the puckered purple circle with the thick pink marshmallow in its center. Maggie grabbed her tit almost rudely, squeezing it hard, forcing it against Casey's mouth. He sucked it in hard, pinched it with his lips, bit it some.

Maggie rode his arm, jerking, out of control. Suddenly, her bodly convulsed and he could feel the strong muscles of her vagina contracting and rippling against his hand. She froze, eyes turned up so the pupils were invisible. A great gush pour around his arm and onto the loose hay of the barn adding a rich musk to the other natural odors. In his stall, Sergeant whinnied loudly and beat his hooves against the gate.

Maggie's orgasmic moan went on and on as the aftershocks shook her whole body. She cried out as he slipped his hand from inside her; holding her tight as she shuddered against him. Finally, she nuzzled her face into his neck.

"Whoa! That was seriously fine. I don't think I ever. You got me spoiled now. And I owe you. I got an idea. You set yourself down on that bale of hay there. Here, let me get those trousers down. Oh, you are so pretty. I don't think I've seen me a cock on any critter as pretty as this one here."

She was stroking his cock and balls with all the expertise she had applied to Old Dobbin, but with more gentleness. Casey had never felt himself so hard, the skin was so tight it stung. His nuts were snug up against his body. He needed to blast her with everything in them and yet he never wanted her to stop. For a girl with no experience she was a pro.




Doctor of Desire Ch. 09



And then she topped herself. With powerful pursed lips she surrounded the purple head of his organ as she squeezed it tight, popping it deep into her mouth and clamping it there with her tongue. Then she pulled him slowly out, keeping her lips almost too tight. His climax was building unmercifully. Then she changed style.

Her large lips were sliding up and down his pole, pushing firmly against the base and slowly drawing out again, the ample liquid from her mouth running out around it; her firm tongue wrapping around it, teasing, tickling, pulling it in deeper and deeper. Then, before he knew it, she wrapped her lips around his sac, his cock comfortably in her throat. That magic tongue bathed each tender nut, tugging at them gently, begging them to give up their urgent load.

He held out as long as he could, enjoying the gentle tickle of her tongue working its way toward his pucker. A soft roar started to come from her, the puff of her nostrils on his belly. He could feel her hunger. A moaning began deep in her throat that buzzed his knob. A finger, drenched in spit began to caress his opening. He began bucking, pushing his cock and balls down her throat, and she took it all and seemed to want more. 

Her finger plunged in and pressed a button. Casey roared as he erupted. He could feel the heat from deep in his nuts pour into her and she drank it down, gulping everything he could give her; sucking to get more, to drain every drop out of him, lapping up any spare drips, massaging his melting rod with her tongue. As he nearly passed out, he caught a glimpse of her free hand, deep in her lower curls, thrashing a stream of clear liquid onto the straw below.

When he woke he found himself cradled in her arms, a fragrant cup of hot chocolate handy and a peach ready to ease his hunger. Maggie was slurping away at hers and the juice was running carelessly down her chin. She bent down and kissed him as he had never been kissed before. She didn't pull away, but kept her moist mouth on his until he had had his fill.

They had breakfast at midnight: three eggs each, a rasher of bacon and some slices from a butt end of ham, milk thick with cream, warmed-up biscuits dipped in the sop, a couple more peaches, and some grits, as Mrs. Deacons was from the south. 

Casey slept sound in the spare bedroom that night and was roused by Maggie heading off to do her chores. She was all business, and frankly Casey was pretty well fucked out. They exchanged a heartfelt hug and he went on his way. They had an understanding. She did not need his services. But something nagged at him. It didn't click until a couple of days later as he came back from the market. He passed Dinnie, standing beside the irrigation ditch. At first he thought the boy was fooling with a baseball bat. Then he realized the fellow was taking a leak. Casey called Maggie the minute he got back home.

"Maggie, I couldn't help notice that there was work around your place that could use four hands. Your dad's getting on, and I was thinking that was one reason he wants to get you 'hitched'.

"Yeah, so, you volunteering? We had fun, but I didn't figure you'd fancy a life of sloppin' hogs and beakin' chickens."

"You've got that right. But I think I may have a candidate. You know that shy kid down the road from you about seven miles? He's just back from aggie school and seems like a nice guy. Not the sharpest tack in the box, but seems to know farming."

"And you think he's just the thing for a dumb farmer's daughter like me? I should hang up, but I like you."

"That's not it at all, not really. I figured he could help with the chores and you could teach him. But he does have assets you might favor. The guy is big. Do you catch my drift? The young man is seriously large."

"Just a minute...."

"Hold on, Maggie, before you get on your high horse. Let me illustrate my point. Suppose you had a champion filly that folks underrated, but you wanted to breed her. Now she's a lively mare and you want to breed her by getting a fine stallion to cover her, but there are none around. So what do you do?"

"Send off for the best sperm I can get and do the deed myself."

"Exactly. But that doesn't mean your little mare can't have some fun. So maybe you have some rough and ready young stallion around. With a careful hand you can use him to get her ready to breed, but knock her up with the good stuff. Hmmm? You see where I'm going with this?"

"I see the way the wind blows. But though horses have feelings they don't have the kind people do."

"But people can come to an understanding if they see it might benefit them."

"I hear you. I'll give it some thought."

*******

Casey was taking a long hike around the lake late in the season when he heard a shout, and then another. Most of the cabins were closed and he was concerned that someone was in trouble. But as he made his way through a pine grove toward a place where the bank sloped toward the lake, he saw something unusual. Through the trees he glimpsed the naked torso of a woman. Her body was rising and falling as though she rode a horse but she was not moving in any direction. Her full head of red-blond hair flounced on her head. As he drew closer he could see her thick breasts lift and fall with each bounce. Her mouth was wide and sang out every time her body dropped and cooed every time she lifted.

It was Maggie. Grinning like a pre-teen, Casey crept up quietly until he could see the whole scene. Dinnie was lying on his back on a blanket on the pine needles next to a huge picnic basket, without a stitch on. Maggie, her pale freckled skin glowing pink with her effort was crouched above him. Her strong legs lifted her until Casey could see the thick veined purple of Dinnie's rod, shiny with Maggie's moisture, disappearing into her muff, framed by two gorgeous half-moon haunches.

Maggie's face was red. Dinnie's was redder. Maggie's moans and Dinnie's roars echoed across the lake. Finally, Maggie drove down on his pole until it was buried deep within her. She ground into him. Dinnie's eyes went wide and disappeared up in his head. Maggie's hips jerked and shuddered a dozen times. Near the last she looked up toward the woods and caught a glimpse of Casey. It was too late for him to hide. He smiled. At first she looked shocked, but then she, too smiled a huge grin. One hand lifted as though to stretch. With a twinkle in her eye, she gave Casey the OK sign then buried her face in the sweaty chest of her stud.

Casey turned as quietly as he could and made his way home.

*********

Readers: if you like this story, please vote for it and leave your comments. Be sure to check out the other stories in the Doctor of Desire series or some of the other tales by LargoKitt.