Dr. D. and the Vag Girls

Note: If any of the categories on literotica bother you, my apologies, because this story has nearly every one in it!

I suppose I should've seen it coming, being a trained psychologist. But I guess it's like the painter's house that always needs painting, or the roofer who has a roof caving in. In my case, it was the wife who didn't come home. After 25 years of marriage, one day she just disappeared. She was gone without word for two days before her sister called to tell me not to worry. She was ok, in a safe place, and she needed some time to sort some things out. Something about finding herself, or something.

Naturally, I spent some time trying to evaluate that information. I thought we were ok, she seemed pretty happy. We had never had kids, we were financially stable. On the negative side, our sex life had fallen off some, but it had never been a big part of our relationship. She had never really been into it, and at some point over the past 10 years, I had made the decision that the occasional missionary position romp wasn't much worth the effort. Which was ok, we just had a comfortable, passionless partnership.

I waited for about a month for her to come home, but being alone in the house we had shared for 25 years was getting to be a drag. So I closed up the house, leaving everything in place. I figured one day she'd come back, and we could just pick up where we left off. I had a hard time imagining the complications of starting over. My life was simple, I had never even been with another woman, so the idea of not being in that comfort zone was pretty intimidating. I figured she was the same and would eventually come back to our comfortable life.

In the meantime, I took up residence across town at an apartment complex. I got all new furniture, even got new clothes, figured a fresh start would do me good. The apartment was about a fourth of the size of my house, but I didn't need much space, and I was counting on it being temporary.

My life became simple, quiet and painfully lonely. Some days I couldn't decide what was worse - going to work and listen to people whine about their problems all day, or go home and sit in a dark room by myself. I could feel myself spiraling down into darkness and despair. If I'm being honest, I was on the fast track to offing myself.

Then one day, out of the blue, there was a knock on my door. It was early in the morning and I did not expect anyone, and no one ever visited. So when I opened the door and there was a beautiful young blonde standing there, my first thought was that I was dreaming.

"Hello, my name is Alana, I live a few doors down," she said. "My car won't start, I think it's the battery. I have some batteries, but I'm not sure what size I need."

She held out her hand, and showed me a handful of assorted batteries. Not car batteries, mind you, but the C and D size batteries that go into small appliances. My first thought was that maybe I was on a candid camera show, but I realized that this girl was just not that sharp.

"Uh, those batteries aren't going to work," I said. "How about if I jump you?"

She stepped back from the door with a look of horror and confusion on her face.

"I mean jump your car, with jumper cables," I added quickly.

Her expression changed and she nodded. I got the jumper cables out of my trunk, hooked up the batteries and got her car started in no time. I was closing her hood when she came over to thank me, giving me a quick hug.

"Thanks so much, I hate to jump and run but I'm late for class," she said. "Thanks so much though!"

I waved goodbye and went back to my lonely enclave, figuring I would never see Alana again. But later that afternoon, I heard another knock on the door, and there she was, smiling and holding what appeared to be a pie.

"Hi, I'm Alana again," she stammered nervously. "I just wanted to bring you something to thank you again for helping me out this morning. It's chocolate pie."

"I see, it looks delicious," I said. Actually, it looked like someone had put chocolate pudding into a pie crust and then sprayed some whipped cream on it and then dropped it on the floor and did a poor job of mashing it all back together, but I wanted to be nice. Also in an effort to be nice, I invited her inside, and unexpectedly, she accepted.

In fact, she stayed quite a while, and talked up a storm. Alana was a senior at the local college, lived just a few doors down, did modeling work on the side, loved puppies and had finished in the top ten of the latest Miss America pageant as a representative of the great state of Alabama, as she described it. She may have won the whole thing but the question and answer round didn't go well for her.

"I love Alabama, but its nice to be out of the south," she said.

I didn't really have the heart to tell her that North Carolina was not exactly out of the south, so I just let that go.

We talked about everything from the weather to politics, and eventually she asked some questions about me, so I had to tell her my sad story about being separated. As I told the story I realized that she actually teared up with empathy. She wasn't too smart, but she made up for it by being a real sweetheart.

"So what do you do for work?" she asked.

"I'm a psychologist, I help people with their problems," I replied.

"Ah, psychologist, so you can't subscribe drugs then," she said. She sounded sympathetic.

"Well, actually no I can't PRESCRIBE drugs," I said. "Only psychiatrists can do that. But I can prescribe sunshine, and that's even better."

She stared at me blankly for a minute before realizing I was joking, and she smiled warmly. "Well, I enjoyed the visit, and I hope I will see you again," she said.

"Me too," I replied, and I actually meant it. There aren't many men pushing 50 who wouldn't be more than delighted to spend time with a beauty queen.

I walked her to the door, and just as she was leaving she stopped and turned back. "Say, how would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night," she said.

I was momentarily stunned, but I was able to collect myself enough to accept the invitation. She gave me her apartment number and told me to show up at 7 pm sharp.

After she was gone I spent the next hour or so pinching myself to make sure I was awake. Then I spent an hour having an idle fantasy about having sex with Miss Alabama on a dinner table filled with chocolate pie. Then I spent an hour scolding myself for imagining that she would ever be interested in a man twice her age. Then I spent another hour having more idle fantasies about just that. By that time it was time to go to bed, so I went to bed and spent the next 8 hours mostly staring at the ceiling.

By the time the next evening rolled around I was a train wreck. I wasn't sure what Alana was serving for dinner, so I ended up picking up a bottle of red and white. I walked down and was about to knock on her door, before I suddenly realized I was 15 minutes early and went back home to twiddle my thumbs some more. Finally, 7 pm rolled around, and I walked down to her apartment and knocked on the door. Which was opened by someone who was not Alana. The girl who answered the door was a short brunette with a hint of east asian in her brown eyes, which were covered by thick, black rimmed glasses. She was pretty in a bookish way, but she was a long way from Alana.

"Ah, excuse me, I was looking for Alana," I said, leaning back to double check the room number.

The girl looked at me like I was nuts. "Alana?" she said. "Is that the name of a person?"

I could feel myself getting a cold sweat. I was 100% certain of the room number, so the only explanation was that Alana had played a joke on me. Middle aged man, invited to dinner by beautiful blonde, who is now looking through the window of an apartment across the street, laughing like crazy with a half dozen coed friends.

"Ok, I must've gotten the room wrong," I said, slinking away in utter embarrassment.

But then suddenly, the girl broke out in a big grin and opened the door wide. "I'm just fuckin' with you, come on in," she laughed. "Alana is in the kitchen, she told us you were coming."

I breathed a sigh of relief, but also took a moment to clarify my confusion, which was obvious to the girl inviting me in.

"I'm Galena, Alana's roommate," she explained. "And this is Variel, our other roommate." She gestured towards the couch at a girl who was standing up walking towards us. She was a light skinned black girl, dressed in gym clothes, and as her saunter distinctly suggested that she was an athlete. She had short, dark hair, an amazing athletic figure, and the pretty, sexy look of a tom girl who never wears makeup and doesn't try to look good, but does anyway. She shook my hand with a grip that suggested she had spent a fair amount of time in the weight room.

I was still recovering from the handshake when Alana came in from the kitchen. "Hey, my battery hero," she said. "Welcome to the home of VAG."

Galena and Variel immediately rolled their eyes and giggled, sharing a private joke.

"VAG?" I said.

"VAG, as in Variel, Alana, Galena," Alana said, bewildered at her roommates amusement.

Variel giggled. "I'm sure that was the first thing that came to his mind."

Alana blushed, seemed to get the allusion and changed the subject. "Hey, you bought wine!"

"Yes, I wasn't sure what we were having, so I brought red and white," I said.

"Both are perfect, especially since we're all 20 and too young to buy booze," said Galena.

By this time my mind had reset from the idea of having a romantic dinner for two with a beautiful blonde to having a friendly dinner with a bunch of coeds treating me like a father figure.

As it turned out, Alana had cooked macaroni and cheese, the kind that comes four for a dollar out of the box, so red or white would've worked just fine. We drank both bottles over the course of the meal, and I even went home and got two more bottles. It was a lively, fun conversation, and I honestly couldn't remember a time when I had laughed more. All three girls had very different personalities, but they were all great kids. Alana was the ditzy blonde, but a lot smarter than she gave herself credit. Galena was the brilliant egghead, a double major in physics and biology. Variel was the easy going jock, super athletic and lover of sports. How the three of them came together I have no idea.

It was late into the night when I finally signaled that it was time for me to head home, and it felt fantastic that they legitimately acted like they weren't ready for me to leave. I had made my first friends since my separation, and as I gave them all a hug goodnight, I felt like a bright sun was coming through my dark clouds of misery.

The next day seemed to feel like I was a different person. I went for a run in the morning, made it into the office early, had some great break throughs with some of my patients. I felt like a new man. When I got back to the apartment I ran into my three new friends on their way to the swimming pool, and they invited me to join them. I managed to find something that resembled swimming trunks and met them at the pool. I had to remind myself that these girls were just new friends, but I couldn't help but notice that they all looked fabulous in swim suits. Alana with the two piece bikini that no doubt played a factor in winning a state pageant, Galena in a conservative one piece that showed off a surprisingly cute figure, and Variel, ever the jock, who had on a sports bra and basketball shorts.

We swam and talked late into the afternoon, and I realized at some point why they were so easily comfortable around me. I wasn't really a sexual threat of any kind, I was just the friendly older guy who was fun to hang out with. Which was fine with me, it was great just having new friends, and if my new friends just happened to be all smoking hot young girls, all the better.

And that's how the relationship developed, the VAG girls and me as the older guy friend. They called me Dr. D, which came out of nowhere since I don't even have a "D" in my name, and I wasn't a doctor. I gave them advice, helped them with things that came up, occasionally bought them booze. We even started a regular pizza and a movie night, where they would come over to my place, we'd order pizza and take turns picking out a movie to watch. Nothing makes movie watching better than to do it with three beautiful young women. All in all, my life had improved vastly. Then, just a few months in, things took a turn.

One afternoon there was a knock on the door, and there was Alana, looking a bit upset. I had her in and we sat down together on the couch.

"Dr. D, I need to talk to you, like as a sociologist," she said. "But I don't think I can afford it."

I smiled warmly. "You're in luck Alana, I actually offer my psychological services free to beautiful young blondes named Alana."

She stared at me blankly for a few minutes, until I felt compelled to clarify.

"I'm kidding," I said. "But I'm not going to charge you, I would be happy to help you."

I moved over to a chair opposite the couch and let Alana have the couch, to make it an official session. As usual, Alana was dressed to the nines, her blonde hair cascading over a tight gray silk blouse, finished off by a thigh high black leather skirt and high heels. Also as usual, I tried to sneak a peak down her blouse. She had a tendency to dress revealingly, and I didn't mind looking.

"Oh good," she said. "I think I have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

She got very nervous and trembling. "Dr. D., I think I'm an exhibitist."

"An exhibitist?" I answered. "What does that mean?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "You know, like I enjoy exposing myself to other people."

I got lost in a train of thought for a moment at just how lucky other people were before I recovered and put my psychologist hat back on. "Alana, I think you mean exhibitionist. Why do you think you have this uh, problem?"

She blinked. "Exhibitionist, right that's what I meant. Well Dr. D., I get really aroused by showing my body off, and it gets me into trouble."

I tried to avoid gulping. "What kind of trouble?"

"Well, like I end up exposing myself to guys I barely know, and of course once I do that they want to take it a few steps further," she said. "Actually, several steps further. And I don't want to do that, and then they get mad."

"Yes, that could be a problem," I said. I was actually feeling more sorry for the poor guys who were getting blue balled. "Why do you think you are doing it?"

"I'm not sure, I think I'm just very proud of my body and I'm a very sharing person," she said. "But it's getting out of control. Last week I let a guy I don't know see my tits, just because he asked."

"Hmm," I said, lost in thought for several moments. Several thoughts, actually, bad ones mostly.

"I think what I need is some kind of outlet, a safe, controlled place where I can be an exhibitionist maybe once a week, sort of get it out of my system," she said.

"Well, that would be one option, but I think figuring out the cause and curing it would be another," I said. I looked up at her and noted that one of the buttons on her blouse had come open, revealing just a hint of her ample cleavage.

"Hmm," she said, seemingly lost in deep thought. She adjusted herself on the couch, recrossing her legs, and I couldn't help but note that her skirt inched higher on her thigh. "I agree, but I'm scaring myself right now, because I'm afraid I'm putting myself in danger exposing myself in front of people I don't know, and I can't seem to stop. If I don't get that thrill at least once a week, I'm going to go crazy. I just need a weekly fix. I haven't done it in a week and I feel like I'm going to explode."

My mind had become very distracted by this point, and I went off on one of my standard patient discussion lines. "Well, I always tell my patients that safety is the first priority, so you need to do what you have to do to keep safe."

Suddenly Alana's eyes brightened, and I could tell she had an idea.

"What if I got my fix here?" she said excitedly. "It would just be a clinical type thing, I would just expose myself to you to get my weekly fix."

My brain completely shut off for a few moments, and during the rebooting process that took several moments, Alana took it that her idea had some merit. Before I could react, she had deftly sprung another button loose on her blouse, which now hung loosely open.

"Alana wait," I stammered, desperately trying to collect myself. "This is not what I meant, I mean, you would be safe here, of course, but ..."

I had stopped short because Alana had freed another button, clearly revealing a black lacy bra underneath. My standard operating procedure for discussing patient-doctor relationships went into high gear.

"Alana, you need to understand, that as your psychologist, this is not an appropriate form of interaction," I said. I was pretty proud, and amazed, at how steady my voice was. "In order for me to help you, we need to maintain a healthy patient-doctor relationship. Additionally, my participation in this type of inappropriate behavior could potentially cause me to lose my license."

As I was rambling all this off, I was noticing a smoldering look in Alana's eyes, something I had never seen before. She was well beyond the point of no return. She needed her fix, and I was it. She rose from the couch in a sudden quick move, unbuttoning the rest of her blouse and letting it fall open to reveal a body that had once won over the entire state of Alabama. With a quick move, she zipped down the side of her skirt and let it slide down her legs, revealing lacy black underwear that matched the bra. She smiled broadly as I desperately tried to catch my breath enough to say something. Something like, no, or stop.

She turned sideways and strolled magnificently across the floor in front of me in her high heels, stopping and turning beauty pageant style, as I unsuccessfully continued to try to formulate the words no, or stop. She arched her shoulders back and slid the blouse off, and the silk shirt slipped off and glided to the floor like a feather. My hands suddenly cramped up, and I realized it was because I was squeezing the chair arms like I was on a roller coaster. Which I was.

She stopped in front of me and smiled again, watching me watch her, reveling in it. She turned slowly so that her back was to me, and my eyes instinctively moved from the tips of her feet up her toned legs, over her shapely ass and graceful back. It was over for me, stop or no was no longer in my vocabulary.

She turned back around to face me. "Do you like my body?" she asked softly.

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Would you like to see more?" she said.

I weighed out the proposition. On the one hand, I might lose my license, my job, my financial future, my reputation, any hope of reconciliation of my marriage. On the other hand, I could see Alana naked. My head was nodding before I realized I had made the decision.

She reached behind herself and unclasped the bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders but keeping the bra in place. Then she turned with her back to me again and let the bra fall away, allowing me to see her full naked back. Then she turned back around, and I discovered reasons 1 and 2 as to why she was a top ten Miss America finalist. Her breasts were beyond magnificent.

I heard myself stammering something, it may have been "Oh my God," or "Good Lord" or some combination of words that at least intended to show awe.

She walked over to stand right in front of me, close enough to touch, and hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties. "Do you want to see?" she asked.

I did, but all I could do was nod like a child wanting candy.