WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
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Mr. Marcus's wife, Harriett, arranged for a local girl, Inga, to perform a ministry once a week while she's away. The first visit surprised Mr. Marcus, who got a good look at Inga in her undies as she cleaned out an attic room. However, Inga saw Mr. Marcus watching a porn tape and found his stash of adult magazines. Did Inga tell anyone what she saw? And where might Inga's visits and continued exposure lead? If Inga was a service station, would Mr. Marcus fill 'er up?
* * * * * * * * * *
I choked on Harriett's first words after getting home from her latest business trip. "You didn't take advantage of that sweet girl, did you?"
Did Harriett suspect something? I never laid a hand on Inga despite her prancing around in her underwear. "What do you mean?"
"Her ministry is only one hour a week. I didn't invite her to cook and clean for you all afternoon."
"I didn't give her household chores." Nor any personal sexual ones. Not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind. But I was being good, for a change.
"Good. I expect you to keep the house in order while I'm away. You know how I need for the house to be kept tidy."
But who would care for my physical needs? Not Harriett. Never Harriett. One of these days, when Zenellis sends me my first royalty check and I'm financially independent, maybe I'll leave Harriett and her frozen demeanor towards sex.
After a quick twenty-four visit that was a living hell compared to the four days when she was absent, Harriett flew off again. These business jaunts were giving her great pleasure and adding more than a few bucks to the household stash. I counted the days until Inga's next visit. It was difficult, deciding between my normal daily masturbation or saving myself. Hell, there wasn't any promise that I'd get into Inga's panties, pussycat decorations or not. I settled on jerking off every other day, as a compromise, careful to put my source material away.
Finally, the day. The doorbell rang twenty minutes early. Was Inga as anxious to be together as I was? Peeping through the glass pane, it wasn't her. An Avon woman, perhaps? Her make-up and decorum were high class and precise. Under other circumstances, I'd let her in and let her do her spiel. Who knows? Maybe she's selling women's lingerie and would be willing to model the latest nighty fashions? I opened the door and smiled warmly. "I'm sorry. The lady of the house isn't here. If you'd like to come back some other time-"
She stuck out her hand. "I'm Inga's mother. May I come in? There are some things I'd like to discuss with you."
Damn! Inga ratted me out. The porn film, the magazines! But I never touched her, not once! Well, there was that hug in the bathroom when I wrapped her in a towel, but that was harmless.
I extended my hand to shake. Her grip was firm. I had the fleeting thought about how her grip would feel around my dick. Damn, my mind slips into the gutter so easily.
"Can I get you something to drink, Ms-?"
"Doctor. Dr. Stephanie Crumholtz. A glass of water, if you please."
"What kind of doctor are you?"
"I'm a practicing psychotherapist."
Practice is supposed to make perfect, but I didn't know a psychotherapist from a psychiatrist from a psychologist. No reason to display my ignorance. "Oh."
Dr. Crumholtz parked herself on the couch. As I walked behind her, she opened her coat and struggled to get her arms out of the sleeves. She wore a boat neck blouse, where the boat was the Queen Mary. The front scoop collar hung loose. When she bent forward to extract her arm from a sleeve, I got a great view of cleavage and uplifted breasts, probably from one of those Wunderbras. She had measurements Inga could strive for, as she got older. The good doctor glanced up, caught my stare, and hugged the material to her chest.
I hurried into the kitchen, embarrassed at having been caught. I took a deep breath, brought out the glass of cold tap water and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. She was still holding the front of her blouse close. I'd spooked her good, having come to lecture me about corrupting her daughter. Now she was armed with evidence of lascivious behavior.
Since she had taken a place in the center of the couch, I was forced to select one of the facing chairs. "It's nice to meet you." I folded my hands in my lap. No reason to show a partial erection to this stranger.
"Inga spoke to me about your fixation with large breasts."
Doc doesn't beat around the bush, and Inga has a big mouth! The paused porn film with breasts filling the screen. My Juggs magazines, hidden upstairs in the attic. My comments about checking one's self for lumps. A natural conclusion, I guess. Oh, and then I take advantage of a tit shot down her mother's blouse. Nice work, Harvey. I could claim this was all a mistake, but then what? 'I'm not interested in large breasts.' And she replies, 'Oh, then you like Inga's smaller ones perhaps?' This was a no win. Time to take my lumps and hope Harriett doesn't get word. "I'm sorry Inga was exposed to that." I was careful not to apologize for doing it, just that Inga saw it. After all, a man's castle is his masterbatorium.
"I'm quite disturbed, after all of the background checks I'd performed, that this would come out." She wrung her hands. "After all, I can't have my daughter in jeopardy from perverts or psychopaths."
Background checks? And I passed? Was she more upset at what Inga saw, or that her checking was deficient? "I assure you, I pose no threat to your daughter."
"It's too late to request an alternative family, and with your wife traveling, I believe we're stuck with you. However, I'd like to offer you free counseling, to assist you with your problem," she continued.
That's a switch. No harassment, no lecture, just an offer to cure me. Who says I want to be cured? And anyway, I don't have a large breast fixation. I like all sizes. "And how would you do that?" I asked.
"Counseling sessions at my office. No charge, as I said."
"It's a kind offer," I replied. No way was I going to get analyzed about a fictitious sex problem. "Let me think about it."
Her voice sounded like a military command. "My office, tomorrow, at 4:30. Or, I'll inform Harriett."
Damn! Okay, so this would be my penance for getting caught with my pants down. "I'll be there."
She reached for the glass, holding her blouse from sagging, and took a large sip of water.
The doorbell rang. The doc stood and went to answer it. I didn't complain, since I was sure who it was.
Inga stood in the doorway, again in her blazer/blouse/skirt/stockings uniform. She held a garment bag in one hand, a small duffel in the other. "Mama! What are you doing here?" The two females hugged.
I was jealous. Inga never hugged me. Neither did her mother, just a handshake.
"Just stopping by for a chat with Mr. Marcus about your ministry." Doc kissed the top of Inga's head. "He had nothing but positive things to report."
Yes, about how perky her tits looked before I wrapped her in a towel, and how her round and firm ass filled out her panties. "You're doing a great job," I said. "I told your mother to be proud."
