I awakened Wednesday morning in my cum-soaked bed after wet-dreaming sex with Dr. Jamie Devlin. Like many dreams, this one had some parts that were unclear. Try as I might, I could not force my mind to reveal the missing details of my dream's sexual experience with her. Waking up in a bed with a surprisingly large cold wet spot would have been far more tolerable if my recollection of the dream included how I had experienced sex with her given her physiological anomaly: Dr. Jamie Devlin is a woman with a fully-developed penis rather than a vagina.
I stood naked, stripping the sheets from my bed, and vivid thoughts of sex with Jamie returned. So did my hard-on. Inexplicably, I felt drawn to move in front of the full-length mirror mounted on my closet door. As I walked in front of the mirror and stared at my body's image, an image of Jamie appeared from a swirling mist. Her image in the mirror was fully nude, the figure of a truly sexy and sexual thirty-something woman, made mysteriously even more so because she too displayed her own erect penis.
I had never seen Jamie unclothed, at least not yet, so I could not possibly have known how she would look. Yet, there she was. Her body was unmistakably that of a mature and exceedingly sexy woman, not that of a transsexual woman, a man who has tried to restructure his male body to appear to be the body of a woman. Everything about her, save her genitalia, was unmistakably and naturally woman -- no artificial or surgical enhancements to be seen. Though she is ten years older than I, her image in the mirror did not look it.
Her image was so clear and three-dimensional that it seemingly could not have been my imagination, so I instinctively turned to my left, expecting to see her standing alongside me. Of course, she was not there, but when I turned back to the mirror, there she stood beside me in the mirror, facing me, our bodies offset. Only now she had spread her legs slightly and was beginning to stroke her cock with her right hand. Slowly, sensually, it became harder and longer until she was fully erect. But her image in the mirror was looking back at me, first into my eyes, then her eyes drifted downward on me to my own erection.
As if pulled, commanded really, by her, I began stroking myself with my right hand, matching her strokes with my own. In my mind, I found myself urgently wanting to take her cock and mine in my hand and stroke them both together. I unashamedly wanted to feel the sensation of her hardness growing harder in my hand and then rubbing it against my own cock. It seemed so natural with Jamie.
Her eyes moved slowly up my body until they locked once again on mine. Now I could not just see her in the mirror, I could also hear her breathing becoming more labored. Her breaths were punctuated by an occasional exclamation of audible pleasure. Her face was beginning to redden, and the redness was slowly creeping down over the white mounds of her breasts. My own breathing was ragged, jerky, dry-sounding. I could feel the first twinges of pleasurable pre-orgasmic pain forming inside me, causing me to make some unintelligible sound come forth from my mouth. We were both stroking ourselves faster now, and Jamie was clearly getting very, very close.
She began thrusting her pelvis, fucking her own hand violently. The head on her cock was dark red with a little droplet easing its way out. She broke our gaze, squinting her eyes tightly shut involuntarily as all her muscular force drove the cum from her cock at the same time my own cum eruption began. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. Simultaneously our knees bent under orgasm-induced weakness and loss of muscular control. I put my left hand out to brace myself on the mirror, and from inside the mirror, her own left hand pushed against mine to support herself as well. The room was filled with my deep guttural growl-turned-cry, but my ears heard only her cries of pleasure when our streams of jism exploded from our bodies. I kept stroking, not wanting Jamie's sexual energy to dissipate any more than mine, and perhaps fearing that if I stopped cumming, she would disappear.. Finally, I could expel no more cum. My strength was drained, and I slumped to my knees, dragging my hand down the cum-stained mirror. When I opened my eyes, she was gone. All that remained was a rapidly-vanishing swirl on the back of the mirror.
There had been no denying my sexual attraction for Dr. Jamie Devlin, but within only a few hours I had experienced two auto-erotic events centering on my having sex with her. The more I thought about it, the more I became concerned enough to call Lorraine with questions suitable for her psychological training.
"Hi, Tom. How are you doing?" she asked casually.
I hadn't really thought through what I was going to say to her on the phone, so even Lorraine's routine greeting threw me off a bit.
"Okay, I guess."
It was quite unusual for me to call Lorraine out of the blue, and she obviously detected something in my response that suggested everything was not okay.
"Really?"
"Well, I had a couple of things happen that are bothering me a little."
"Would you like to come over and talk about it? I'm available after two this afternoon."
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Lorraine. Thank you. Would three be all right with you?"
"Three would be perfect, Tom. See you then."
"Thanks again, Lorraine."
My body attended my Wednesday morning class, but it would be a stretch to say my mind was even half there. I had fantasized about having sex with certain women before, and those fantasies had ended with me jacking off to relieve myself. But my imaginary experiences with Jamie were different, except I didn't know quite how. That was what was troubling me. Why was something usually so pleasurable gnawing at me now?
I showered before going to Lorraine's in hopes it would relax me, but it didn't. In spite of it being a beautiful day, the drive to her office did nothing to relieve my anxiety either.
She answered the door smiling, but her smile instantly disappeared when she first saw me.
"Come in, Tom."
She took me by the arm but instead of taking me to her office, she led me into one of her comfortably furnished "exam" rooms.
"Kick off your shoes, loosen your belt, and lie down here, please." It was a stern command, not even close to an invitation, and she uttered it at the same time she took a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from a cabinet drawer. Her atypical response did nothing to relieve my concern. Before becoming a practicing psychologist, Lorraine had been and still is a registered nurse. She maintained her RN status, and obviously she had also retained her ability to quickly size up patients presenting medical symptoms.
Without speaking any further, she applied the cuff, then took my pulse rate and measured my blood pressure. After making the measurements, she removed the cuff and set it and the stethoscope aside.
"Your heart rate is elevated and so is your blood pressure. I suspected that when I saw you on the front porch. What's got you so upset?" There was genuine concern in her voice. I started to sit up to answer.
