What you've missed: I woke up from a coma after a motor cycle crash, to find that my penis could talk, and more than that, when it wanted, it could take control of the rest of me. It was able to sing in a way which it called 'pussy charming' in such a way as to entice nearby females to come and shag me, which it demonstrated for me with a 50 something overweight nurse called Elaine.
After my pussy charming cock continued to provide me with mature, BBW pussy, I started to call it Marlon, because when it's soft it reminded me of Marlon Jackson from the Jackson 5. A nasty encounter with Doris the cleaning lady convinced me that I'd been going wrong lusting after skinny young girls in the past. My recovery continued well, until during an evening session with Elaine the Nurse I asked her whether I'd be able to go home soon. She informed me that first I needed to speak to Dr. McGowan. Elaine had overheard me talking to Marlon several times, and was worried that I was still suffering from my head trauma. She had arranged for me to see Dr. McGowan – the psychiatrist!
Marlon promised me that he wouldn't make me do or say anything bad in front of Dr. McGowan, so that she wouldn't sign my release papers, but I wasn't sure whether I could trust him or not. In the meantime we had a visit from Geraldine the vicar, and Marlon revealed that assholes are good for shagging, but not so good for having a conversation with.
No, I know what you're probably thinking. – so Jamie, let me guess - you had your meeting with Dr. McGowan, who would turn out to be a large lady aged somewhere between 40 and 60, and Marlon made you do or say something stupid, then he got you out of trouble by charming Dr. McGowan's pussy, and giving her a good old seeing to in the time-honoured fashion.
Ah, if only the truth was that simple!
Now, in the interests of truth I probably should reveal that Dr. McGowan was indeed a) somewhere between 45 and 55, and b) rather overweight. And, yes, Marlon was attracted to her instantly. Oh, who the hell am I kidding, so was I. Her hair was obviously dyed a determined black, and scraped back and tied into a severe bun. She was wearing makeup, but not plastered in it, and she wore a pair of gold-rimmed bifocals. Behind these sparkled the most beautiful pair of dark, almond shaped eyes, like Marie Helvin's, or even better, Roseanne Barr's. Her cheeks were rather puffy, but that somehow only added to the attraction of her luscious, sensuous lips. Marlon, as usual, put it succinctly
"Whoo – hoo – now ain't SHE got a cock-suckin' mouth there!"
-Please Marlon – I prayed silently – Not now. Not here. Not with her! –
Dr. McGowan stood up and offered me her hand. She was wearing a plain white blouse and a trouser suit. Oh. My. God. I have always had a fetish for women in white blouses and tight black trousers. Not that I imagined Dr. McGowan's trouser suit had been designed to be quite such a tight fit, but hey, nobody seemed to have told her ass that.
Her handshake was firm, but not unpleasant.
"Ah, . . . James? Please, sit down." She pointed to the chair beside her desk.
Alright, I admit that I was nervous, and that's probably why I said,
"Aren't you going to ask me to lie down on a couch?"
Dr. McGowan allowed herself a hint of a smile before replying,
"Well, you can lie down if you want to Jamie, but that's a little old fashioned. I thought we could start off with just having a little chat."
She patted the chair, and I sat, and then she moved her own chair slightly so that we weren't quite facing each other.
"Sister Biggins thought it might be a good idea if we had a talk. You know that, already, don't you Jamie? Of course you do. " She leaned in closer, then removed her glasses and looked me straight in the eye. God, her eyes were stunning. Marlon was already tenting in my pyjama trousers. I drew my dressing gown tighter into my lap in the hope of concealing it from the doctor.
"Now, I don't need you to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, Jamie. I want you to trust me. So let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Julia McGowan, and I am a qualified psychiatric practitioner. I grew up in Dundee, and I qualified in 1987. I've lived and worked in London for the last 25 years, 12 of them in this hospital. Is there anything else you'd like to know about me now, Jamie?"
"Yeah!" shouted Marlon,"ask her if she prefers it in the kisser or in the shitter!"
-Shut up Marlon! – I screamed inwardly – you're not helping! –
Unable to come up with any other response, all I could think of to say was,
"Well, do you want to speak to me because you think I'm crazy?"
"Ah," she smiled, "if I had a fiver for every time someone begins by asking that question. Right – Jamie – now, you have to bear in mind that I've never met you before, and I've only been speaking to you for 5 minutes so I haven't got a great deal to go on, but no, I don't think you're crazy. I do think, on the other hand, though, that you suffered a very serious head trauma, you were in a coma for 45 days, and have been exhibiting some, shall we say it, . . . rather interesting behaviour since waking up."
What was she talking about?
"What are you talking about?"
"Well," she began, picking up her ipad from the desk, and tapping it several times, "let's start with your long and er. . . rather graphic conversations with Marlon shall we? Marlon whom nobody else can see or hear?"
"So you do think I'm going mad, then?"
"Not at all, there might be any number of reasons for your, let's call him an 'imaginary friend' shall we? Then there's your impressive display of priapism since your awakening from your coma."
"Priapism?"
" It is a physiological condition in which the male member remains erect without external stimulus, often resulting in what is commonly thought of as the male equivalent of nymphomania."
-"Say what?" – said Marlon
"I beg your pardon?" I replied.
"In a nutshell, dear boy – since waking up you seem to have been 'shagging the arse off' any poor female who happens to come within a few feet of your room."
How the hell did she know that? – I asked myself.
"Who told you about that?" I spluttered, "was it Elaine?"
"Elaine?"
"Sister Biggins."
"Sister Biggins is a devoted nurse, who knows that her sexual relationship with you breaks every rule of the hospital relating to contact between patients and staff. She knew she was risking her career by telling me about it, but she is so worried about your welfare that she told me anyway."
I couldn't think of what to say.
"By my reckoning, there have been relations with three other nurses, a lady from the canteen and Doris the cleaner. Oh, and I must say, I think you were sailing pretty close to the wind with Geraldine the vicar."
"How the hell. . . "
She turned her ipad to me so that I could witness a video of Marlon pistoning in and out of Geraldine's holy backside.
"We do have to keep head trauma patients under video surveillance. With each day that passes the risk of haemorrhage is reduced, but even so the risk is still a significant one, and in the case of a brain haemorrhage quick response is vital. But don't worry – the footage is all safe with me. I have no intention of using it to hurt the careers of any of the staff, or sending it to the editors of the British Medical Journal. I am not " and here she smiled, "even going to upload it to Youtube."
Dr. McGowan's revelations seemed to have shocked even Marlon, as he had shrunk and was being remarkably quiet. All of which enabled me to think a little more clearly.
"So what do you want me to do?" I asked finally, knowing that although she had issued no threat, the ball was in her court, should you excuse the pun.
"Talk to me. Just tell me what has been going on with you since you woke up from the crash. The truth."
