There are times in our lives when everything falls into our laps. And then there are times when nothing seems to work. This is especially true for women: they fall in love, get married and have beautiful children. In Laura's case, in college she was the belle of the ball, the most popular girl on campus. Some, those who were envious, even called her promiscuous. She didn't have a lot of sex, but when she did, it was explosive. She was usually multi-orgasmic.
These days, being married, in her late 30's, her sex life -- to put it bluntly -- stunk. She had a son, Bobbie, who was a junior in college. Being divorced, she recently remarried a man in his 50's. Her husband spent most of his time either working late, or following the stock market. The least of his interest was in making love to his wife. When they did have sex, she failed to reach a climax. She felt responsible, but she also felt his mind on the futures market made her feel like an accessory, not a wife.
She was religious and believed in the power of prayer. She prayed for orgasms, like she used to have, and got no response. God took no interest in her orgasms. She felt abandoned by God, simply because God was not a sex worker.
In an act of desperation, she went to a therapist. She could not have an orgasm with her husband, Bruce. Maybe the therapist would teach her how to be more seductive, more whorish. They say a man wants a whore in bed, not a wife, or the mother of his children.
***
"You have two choices, my dear," Dr. Abrams said. "Either you learn to live with your problem or you take my advice."
"I can't live with it." The young woman sitting across the psychologist's desk turned pale. "It's ruining my marriage and my life. I need help."
She was shaking so hard her tits wobbled. The doctor nodded sympathetically. "I'll do what I can to help you, but you must remember these things take time."
"Anything," the woman said. "I'll do anything to have an orgasm with a man."
Laura Stafford had no idea of the effect she had on men. She'd be shocked to discover that the doctor found her so appetizing he was struggling with the growing snake in his pants.
She had come for help because after two years of marriage her husband was still unable to bring her to orgasm. She was nervous and jumpy; her husband, Bruce, was angry at her, and disgusted with their marriage. This visit to Dr. Abrams was her last chance. Bruce had warned her that their next step was a divorce.
"Tell me what to do," the stunning brunette said. She sat forward, her ripe tits rising from her low-cut blouse.
The doctor began talking about sex and orgasms, but he wasn't listening to his own words. His eyes were busy taking in Laura's sensuous lips and big, blue eyes. Her face was framed by a thick mane of dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders and back.
"And you say I've got to have . . . uh . . . have sex with other men," she said, her face drained of color.
Dr. Abrams cleared his throat and tried not to stare at her legs as she nervously crossed and uncrossed them. "Think of it as treatment," he said. "Think of it as saving your marriage."
The desperate young woman nodded. "I'll do it," she said, gritting her teeth. "It's not as if I'm not doing it for Bruce." Tears filled her eyes. "I always had orgasms before I married Bruce. " She dabbed a tissue at her eyes. "I don't know why I can't have them any more."
Dr. Abrams sucked in his breath. "You're not that rare a case, my dear. Many women have no problem with orgasms before they're married. Then when everything's legal they freeze up. It's a common enough syndrome and one that we can cure."
"Please help me," Laura said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Tell me exactly what to do." She crumpled a wet tissue and reached into her purse for another. "I never thought I'd cheat on Bruce. I love him so much." She blew her nose.
"Don't think of it as cheating," he said. He placed his unlit pipe in an ashtray and leaned forward. "I'll help you now if you like."
She sniffed, stared at him and sniffed again. "Now?" she whispered.
"You can trust me," he said. "I'm a clinical psychologist. It's part of the treatment. If you'd rather not, however ..."
"No, I want you to . . . I'll let you," she said triumphantly. "I need help so badly. Please help me, Dr. Abrams."
"All right." He rose up and closed the blinds. "Take your clothes off." He picked up the phone and instructed his receptionist to cancel his next appointment.
"I really appreciate this, Doctor," Laura said, still sniffing.
The doctor smiled as she unhooked her bra. "It's what I get paid for," he said unconvincingly.
She lowered her lashes as she removed her bra. "You're so understanding," she said, reddening.
She kept her eyes averted as her heavy white tits sprang into view. Her nipples were dark and stiff with desire. She tried not to look at the doctor as he removed his pants. Anything for Bruce, she thought. I'll do anything to save my marriage.
She had been only thirty when they married. Even after two frustrating years she still adored her husband. Slowly she slipped her panties off and felt the doctor's eyes on her thick pubic bush. I must remember it's for Bruce, she thought. I must keep remembering that.
Already her cunt was moist and aroused. She was always aroused these days. She sometimes masturbated when Bruce was at work, but it wasn't the same as climaxing with Bruce's cock in her.
When Dr. Abrams removed his shorts, she couldn't help but stare at his prick. It was a shapely affair, as well as being massive. The purple cock knob was a fat mushroom shaped dome, and the shaft itself long and thick, seamed up the underside by a dark, pulsing vein, as thick as her little finger. It was big and thick and already semi-erect. But what really caught her eye were his balls. They were huge, hanging halfway down his heavy thighs.
"You're staring at me," Dr. Abrams said with a smile.
"It's your ..." She licked her lips and blushed furiously.
"Say it," the doctor said. "That's part of the treatment. Say the words."
"It's your balls," she whispered. "I've never seen balls that big."
"Excellent," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the small leather sofa against the wall. "And while we're involved in the . . . uh ... treatment, call me Harry."
"OK ... Harry."
A blob of precum oozed from the tip of his knob. She was fascinated by his swiftly stiffening affair.
"We can start with your blowing me," he said.
"Blowing you?" she said hoarsely. He kissed the palm of her hand. "It's part of the treatment. You must be able to love every part of a man's body before you can achieve sexual satisfaction."
"Oh, but I do."
"You say you do, but your reaction when I told you to blow me was negative." He moved her hand between his legs. She flinched when she felt his coarse pubic hair on her fingers. "Do you see what I mean? By the time we're through with the treatment you should want to press your pretty face into my groin."
"If you say so, uh . . . Harry."
