Fantasy Therapy

A small brown man in an expensive but ill-fitting suit sat behind the desk, smiling benevolently at the man before him. "Your complaints are not dissimilar to many I've heard, Mr. Frusten. Your wife has borne you the two point zero zero zero children she felt was her duty and has now turned her attention to other matters. 'Getting on with her life' many women call it. Sex just isn't important in that plan, or outright dangerous in case another one, two, or three point zero zero zero babies come along"

"Yes, that's it. I can't understand how she can do this to me!"

"She probably is not being intentionally cruel, Arthur. Most women simply have no conception of men's constant, overpowering need for sex, so she does not fathom the degree of your torment. I call it the 'sexless wife syndrome:' no miniskirts, no skimpy undies, no sexy sleepwear even when you buy it for her, no high heel sandals, no intimate dinners, no evenings out dancing, no giving or receiving of oral sex and especially no spontaneous, unprotected intercourse."

The man nodded sadly. "Is there anything I can DO, Dr. Vargas?"

"Of course, Arthur. You CAN just continue to take it, as you have for the last five or ten years. You are, what, 45 now? In another 25-30 years your sex drive may have diminished to approximate that of your wife's and you can spend your declining years holding hands and pretending you had been happy all the time."

"But I CAN'T take it any longer," the man almost sobbed. "I love her, but I can't go on without more sex. Isn't there anything else"

"You say you've tried all the women's magazine advice: leaving love notes, bringing flowers, buying her sexy lingerie, suggesting romantic vacations. But sows what you really have in mind is SEX and she's not buying it. Those things work only when she doubts you love her. Your wife seems sure enough you love her, sure enough she does not that worry your frustration would send you to another woman. No, there is not much else YOU can do, but there's a hell of a lot SHE could do. I think we need to bring about a convergence of your sexual fantasies"

"But she doesn't HAVE any fantasies."

"You may be right. When you first married, she probably had some ridiculously fantastic expectations of you. When she realized you were just a man, she gave up on you and her fantasies. Not to worry. In a way it makes our job easier if she has NO fantasies.

"But then 'converge?'"

"We simply give her yours."

"Mine? But I don't really have fantasies, either. I just want a hot, pregnant wife.

"Fantasy enough, some would say, but don't sell yourself short, Arthur. Perhaps you just haven't explored your deeper desires. How much pornography do you read?"

"Pornography? Oh, gosh! None since I was married. Deborah would kill me. Well, maybe a glimpse of 'Playboy' when I travel on business."

"Hmmm. Ever read smutty stories on the internet? MCStories. com? Erticstories.com? Storiesonline.com? Dark Wandereer.com? Or just the ASSM?"

"'A-S-S-M?'"

"'Alternative Sex Stories Moderated,'" the largest, most comprehensive site of all and maintained by readers who contribute money at:

http://www.asstr.org/donations.html

"No, none of that."

"Then you don't know if you have fantasies or not, Arthur. I think we'd better find out, don't you?"

"But if *I* don't know, how can we find out.?"

"Quite easily. I'll run a psychopornogram on you." He motioned to a closet-size chamber.

"A psycho-what"

"Never mind. Just remove your clothes and step into the machine."

"Remove my clothes?"

"Many fantasies -- the good ones, at least -- involve skin-to-skin contact with the opposite sex. The psychopornogram records your reactions as experienced during them."

"Wow! It's warm and slick and ...oooh ... feels like ...tits and ... ahhh, a pussy in here"

"Two very important elements in a male sex fantasy, I'm sure you'll agree. Sensors and nano-servo-mechanisms can adjust the organs to various size, hardness, tightness, etc. The "pussy," -- that's the default setting for the penis receptacle -- can also become an "ass," a "mouth" or a "hand" of various dimensions and gender."

"Gender?" No way!"

"We're very thorough, Mr. Frusten. Now drink this before you put on the face piece."

"What's that?"

"A small dose of hypnohol. You need to be very suggestible for the period of the examination in order to react fully to each fantasy scenario as it's presented."

And the face piece? Wow! That stuff is ... goooood"

Well your mouth will also experience contact with "breasts," "asses," "tummies," "clitties," and "lips" of both types."

"Mrmpffg?"

"Now just relax as the psychopornogram takes you through a simulated reading of all 735,451,837 - wait, I see my "Chloe and Mom: Conclusion" and "Fantasy Aftermath" have just been posted -- 735,451,839 stories on ASSM."

"Mghrkdv!"

"Exactly."

******

A few hours later, the same small brown man in the same expensive but ill-fitting suit again was sitting behind the same desk, smiling benevolently at the same man before him. "What's the verdict, doc?" he inquired.

"Well, for a man with 'no fantasies,' Arthur, you certainly have some doozies." the doctor chuckled. "Who would have thought? You liked a lot of some pretty kinky stuff, but the psychopornogram went off the charts when you hit the Frank McCoy stories."

"Frank McWho?"

"Well-known author. Writes fantasies in which incest is harmless fun and granddads and granddaughters, mothers and sons, daddies and pre-teen girls, uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews happily fuck up a storm, making babies out the kazoo."

"I wouldn't like that kind of trash!"

"Tell your cock that, Arthur. You came so hard you shorted out my apparatus. Clearly this is the fantasy we need your wife to fulfill for you."

"But my wife would never fulfill an incest fantasy of mine -- if I have one."

"Get your wife here for an appointment, Arthur, and leave the rest to Dr. Vargas."

*****

The office and the brown man and ill fitting suit were the same, but facing him was a well put together and very irate woman, a partially drunk cup of tea sat before her. "I don't know what kind of a 'relationship specialist' you claim to be, Dr. Vargas, but there is nothing wrong with Arthur's and my 'relationship' except that he wants to act like a fourteen year old boy."

"Could you elaborate, Mrs. Frusten."

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she glared, taking a sip of tea to gather her thoughts. "He pesters me for sex ALL the time. If I didn't keep him under control, he'd be asking me for it EVERY week, maybe more! I've explained to Arthur very clearly that we are NOT having any more children. Since I'm not messing up my body with artificial chemicals and I sure don't trust him with condoms, he just has to be mature enough to restrict himself to once a month during my safe period."

"I see you DO have a problem."

"I should say." The next sip of tea was more of a swig. "Besides being oversexed, I can't trust him. He knew I'd said one child was more than enough, but one night -- and the sneaky bastard knew just WHICH night to choose -- he 'romanced' me -- dinner, dancing -- and then, boom, back home he took advantage of my having had a little too much to drink. Before I knew it, he had his hand in my puss making me come like a cheap whore. He knows I don't permit that! After a few orgasms I was so addled I let him make love and, bingo, I wind up expecting again." The woman shuddered at the memory and sipped the tea.

"And he is so disgusting, no self control. He masturbates! Every day it appears! I find flaky pajamas and wadded up tissues - who does he think he's kidding?"

"It must be very difficult, especially for a woman like you."

"And what is THAT supposed to mean?" the woman sputtered with barely contained rage. She took another sip of tea to control her self. The tea was the only good think about this wretched interview. Quite tasty, actually. She took another sip.

"Well, Mrs. Frusten, may I call you Deborah, you are a healthy woman approaching that period of maximum sexual responsiveness. It must be difficult for you to control your volcanic urges."

"'Volcanic?'" She sipped, confused.

"Yes, a deeply buried, seething desire for frequent, hard, nasty sex, threatening to erupt at any time and overturn your tranquil life."

"Do you mean to suggest that I ..." she took another sip of tea, about to tell this quack just how wrong he was when she realized that she DID occasionally have certain ... urges. In fact shw was feeling one now. "...that I should fall into bed every time I feel a twinge of desire."

"Certainly not Deborah! If you did, you'd spend all your time on your back," the doctor grinned.

"What?" Could that be right? It was hard to think. "Yes, but .. I'm a grown woman, I can't ..." Thank God for the tea. It was helping her stay calm.

"Can't allow your self to express the constant, urgent need for orgasm clawing at you -- the burning itch between your legs, the full, tingling breasts that yearn to be squeezed. You can't allow your husband or your daughters to see how horny you are all the time. You have to fight constantly not to throw your self down and use your fingers or a fourteen inch vibrator to satisfy, if only fleetingly, the overwhelming need you have to come!"

The woman was fidgeting, clearly distressed. The doctor took compassion on her. "You don't dare let your husband and daughter see what a cum-hungry slut you really are, Deborah, but here it's OK. No one will see you give in to your basic needs. You can take off your blouse ..."

The woman looked confused, but began to unbutton her blouse.

"That's it Deborah, remove off that thick, constraining bra -- not the kind of thing a sexy wife with a set of jugs like yours should be wearing -- and free those big, sensitive titties.

"It's a relief, isn't it, to be able to rub, tweak and fondle then. That's it, squeeze those babies. Pinch your nipples, Deborah, the way you wish you could allow Arthur to do. Feels good ... sooo good, to have your huge boobs felt and pawed, ... gnawed!

The woman's eyes were closed as she worked her unremarkable breasts furiously.

"Feeling up your breasts is great, Deborah, but it only gets you hotter. Your pussy is getting so wet. You have to do something. Better shuck that skirt. It covers up entirely too much of those killer legs you've got, anyway."

With no further prompting, the woman skivvied out of the skirt and introduced first one then two, three, and four fingers into her pussy. The first orgasm didn't take long.

After a few minutes of watching the buxom matron pleasuring herself on his couch, the doctor smiled with satisfaction. "Debbie? Debbie?"

Reluctantly, the woman slowed and finally stopped frigging herself. Opening her eyes, she gazed at the smiling brown man. How much her orgasmed-out brain processed of what she saw and heard was debatable. "Debbie, Debbie, sweetheart, a sexy little girl like you doesn't have to use your fingers to get the sexual pleasure you need so badly," the kindly man explained

"Girl?"

"Of course, Debbie. It's natural for a over-developed ten-year old to be frustrated, seeing and hearing Daddy fucking Mommy or your big sister every night. He just doesn't realize how much his 'little Debbie' has grown. You'll have to think of something to get Daddy's attention if you want him to start pleasing his little girl with that big prick of his."

"But, I'm ... a woman?" she replied, confused.

"Well, yes, technically. Letting your brother Josh take you cherry last year did make you a woman and I'm sure he'd like to help you, but the twins and his home room teacher keep little Jeffie pretty busy. And besides, twelve-year old boys just don't have the stamina or the size of cock that your hungry little pussy needs, Debbie. If you put your mind to it, I'm sure you can get Daddy to fuck his 'baby girl.'"

"I don't understand."

"You will, Debbie, sweetheart. Now if you'll just drop those panties and step into this machine ..."

*****

A few weeks later, the same small brown man in the same expensive but ill-fitting suit sat behind the same desk smiling benevolently at the same man before him. This time the man was smiling back.

"I can't believe the change, Dr. Vargas," the man exclaimed. "You'll never guess what she did!"

"Oh, I might, but why don't you tell me?"

"Well I waited a few days after her final session with you and called her 'Debbie' as you told me when I kissed her goodbye one Friday morning. She stiffened a little -- she's always hated 'Debbie,' -- but then she giggled a little and said, 'Good bye, Daddy.' That was strange enough, but that was nothing compared to the way she greeted me that night."

"Go on," the doctor settled back as the man told his tale.

"Well I hardly recognized her, the way she was dressed. She must have been scouring the thrift shops from the other side of town to find that cheep, ridiculously short cotton dress. I have no idea how she managed to pull her hair into pigtails. And the knee socks and the scruffy loafers and the blouse two sizes too small. The image of a grown woman packed into a school-girl outfit got me hard instantly."

"Something that pleased her, no doubt"

"Rather! She tried to jump up into my arms and start kissing me. Damned near knocked me over. 'Daddy, oh Daddy,' she bubbled. 'Ya gotta see, ya gotta see!' She released me and went to get a piece of cardboard. 'Report Card: Grade 5, Debbie McCoy,' it read. Inside were the 'grades.'

Reading: A; Writing: A; Spelling: A; Geography: A; Arithmetic: A; Deportment: A; Attendance: 100%.

I just stared at the paper dumbly for a minute."

"'I did it, Daddy. Just like I told you I could. Now you have to keep your promise.'"

"'My promise?' I asked."

"'You 'member, Daddy. You said if I got all A's all year long, you'd get me anything I wanted for my birfday.'"

"I was starting to catch on. 'That's wonderful, sweetheart. I can get you that pony you've been asking for.'"

"'Oh, silly Daddy!' she giggled. 'I don't want a PONY.'"

"'Then what, Poopsie? By now she had led me over to the couch."

"'Guess, Daddy,' she giggled and crawled into my lap. My God! she hadn't done that since we were first married and she weighed thirty or forty pounds less. She almost knocked the breath out of me, but I could hardly complain. My wife was, so help me, grinding her pussy against my groin. Naturally my hands were on her ass and she WASN'T WEARING PANTIES. 'Doncha know, Daddy? Cancha you guess what little Debbie wants for her BIRFDAY?'"

"Well you know the rest. She pointed out that Martha had already left for cheerleading camp, the twins had a sleepover and that Mommy had taken Josh to visit Aunt Sue, so we were all alone. I had finally figured it all out so I let her lead me up to the bedroom -- she wanted me to carry her -- and I laid her out on the bed. I didn't bother undressing her, just pulled up the dress, ready to dive into that delicious bush I remembered from too long ago, when I got my final shock. Her pussy was bare!

"I was so turned on, I almost stuck it to her right then; she looked wet enough. I guessed she had been frigging herself to get ready for me. But I played my part. I made her 'little pussy feel 'real good' with my tongue a few times. God, she was hot; came buckets in my mouth. She even pleaded with me to 'be gentle' with my 'big cock' in her 'baby pussy,' but I wasn't. I had years of frustration to get out of my system and I fucked the bitch as hard as I could. I did remember to tell her how tight she was, which was pretty true considering how seldom she'd been letting me fuck her."

"I thought I was in heaven, at last, fucking my sexy wife and her responding passionately, orgasming repeatedly on my cock. I had almost forgotten the other part until she started in. 'Oh, Daddy! Are you going to do it? Are you going to come in me? Are you going to knock up your baby girl? You're so big in me! Are you going to squirt little Debbie full of your potent baby juice, Daddy? My period was just too weeks ago, Daddy; I think I'm ready. Do you want to get your little girl pregnant, Daddy? Do you want to see little Debbie's tummy get big and fat? Will you suck milk from my big boobies?'"

"I was fucking her with everything I had, sweating like a pig, about to explode. 'Yes, Daddy, yes. I feel you swelling up in me. Come in me, Daddy. Give me a babyyyyyyyyyyyy!' She screamed one final orgasm and I erupted into her. I fell off of her and she scoonched over next to me but stayed on her back. I remembered about keeping the jizz in it in where it would 'do her the most good' and helped her put a pillow under her butt. Of course couldn't pass up the opportunity to eat that sweet shaved pussy again and make her come several more times, I was so wound up.

"Of course 'little Debbie' was insatiable that weekend and insisted that I fuck her again and again 'to make sure she had a 'happy BIRFday.' I always 'got her little pussy ready' for my 'big old cock' by eating her bald snatch and from the way the woman was juicing, the clear sticky precum that met my tongue even before I started working her up, I didn't doubt she was fertile that night. And I shot, squirted, pumped, exploded, and unloaded enough semen into Deborah those three nights and two days to impregnate a whole fifth grade class of horny school-girls, even more one sexy woman in her prime.

"Little Debbie kissed me goodbye on Monday morning, thanking me for giving her an early morning load of spunk to 'warm her little pussy' and telling me how jealous 'all her little friends at school would be,' but when I came home that evening, the sexually precocious girl who wanted Daddy to fuck her was gone. In her place was Deborah, but a totally different Deborah. Instead of a sexless harridan, I found a beautiful, voluptuous woman intent on seducing her husband. She had been shopping again and this time not at the Salvation Army thrift store. A woman in a short, tight red skirt, see-through blouse, impossibly high heels and hightops, perfectly made up, perfumed and coiffeured came into my arms. I almost came in my pants.

"To say she was in an amorous mood was to say the Yankees on opening day were ready to play baseball. Her tongue was in my mouth and her arms pulled me tight against her. My hands easily slid up under the skirt to find her bare ass cheeks. Closer examination, aided by the way she wiggled her butt in my palms, revealed there was a thong there, but barely.

A fancy dinner was ready, but it didn't get eaten. I led her to bed where she gave me the satisfaction of undressing her, kissing her sexy figure inch by delicious inch as I disrobed her. A flood of commentary about much I loved each luscious part of her body poured out. I saved for last removing the silly pretense of a thong from her pussy. I had never seen it warmer, wetter, and more inviting. She spread her legs and let me plunge in. Something seemed odd, but I was so overwhelmed by the sexiness of her sex, I happily plunged in.

I must say, nice as it was to play out my little fantasy, I actually enjoyed making love to my adult wife that night even better. I told her how much I loved her, adored her, as we fucked and afterward as we held each other close, and before we started up again. She told me she loved me, too, and intended to let me see just how much.

"I woke up with my head between her plump legs, my tongue joyfully fighting its way through her steamy jungle toward the treasure that lay within. I had eaten her to three orgasms and fucked her to a fourth and fifth when I finally realized what was wrong. I never eat pussy!"

"Well, Mr. Frusten, I AM a relationships counselor and I did explain that the key to a hot marriage is to bring about a 'convergence' of fantasies. The weekend was your fantasy, mainly; the next night was mostly hers.