Alternative Therapy 1

My name is Natalie Smart. I am currently studying for my Phd in Classical Literature at a large university in Eastern England. I find my studies absorbing and I guess most will call me bookish if not actually a prude. It's not that I don't get on with people, I can be very sociable whenever I want to, it's just that I quickly tire of them, finding most of them shallow and in the case of the men, interested in one thing and one thing only. Unfortunately I am frequently pestered as I am judged to be quite pretty. My breasts are larger than average, I have a heart shaped face with flashing brown eyes and I work out regularly so my body is quite athletic when I choose not to hide it under my baggy jumpers and jeans. My one concession to my appearance is my hair. I am very proud of the cascades of thick black ringlets falling onto my shoulders.

I have had a few desultory relationships in the past and a boyfriend once told me that I have "come to bed eyes" but to tell the truth I will rather curl up under the blankets with a copy of Ovid or Horace than engage in sexual congress. I have never had an orgasm and in fact, have never felt the need to try for one.

Altogether I am fairly satisfied with my life as I research for my thesis in some dusty corner of the library, apart from one thing and that is my continual inability to sleep at night. I am not keen on drugs as as a solution as I find that they dull my mind and do not give me a refreshing night's repose. Nor have I found the very many other remedies much help so I was fairly doubtful when I saw a notice in a local whole food cafe. It was pinned on the board amongst the offers of free kittens and old copies of text books next to a very tacky ad for the Sexual Healing Clinic. It was headed Alternative Therapy and claimed to cure a variety of ailments from premature ejaculation to baldness, but amongst the many other empty boasts it claimed to cure sleeplessness. It did not seem at all promising but I had had a very bad night and so thought it worth a try.

Dr Theo Carter was younger than I expected and I seriously doubted whether he was a qualified doctor, but he had mesmeric eyes and appeared very professional in his manner so despite the fees which were much higher than my student budget could really afford, I agreed to a course.

Surprisingly, I found the weekly sessions tremendously effective and I was soon sleeping better than I had for a long long time. However as I was struggling to fit the costs into my budget, after a few weeks I reluctantly told him that I would have to stop. The doctor seemed disappointed at first but gave in after suggesting that I have one last session to reinforce his techniques.

"I'm not sure I can afford it"

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can work something out."

And so I agreed.

On this final session I went behind the screen and changed into the robe. Dr Carter had suggested that I will be far more comfortable being nude underneath but I found the idea embarrassing and I always ensured that I kept my heavy underwear on. I don't think he noticed and it did not seem to interfere with my ability to relax. I then laid on his red vinyl couch and after the customary cup of herbal tea I sank into the trance.

The sessions with Dr Theo were fantastic. I always felt so wonderfully relaxed, but this time it was even more intense. I felt as though I was lying in a lagoon around a South Sea island as the sun was going down. The water was thick and warm as it sank into every single part of my body. There was an intense musky smell of some exotic perfume and it felt like I was immersed in a bath of warm sensuous golden honey. The waves slowly lapped over me in a peculiar yet compelling rhythm that seemed to match both my heartbeat and the cadence of Dr Carter's voice. I guessed that if I strained I would have been able to make out what he was saying but I didn't care to do so, I just wanted to stay there forever. "Return to the comfort of the womb," he had called it, and it was indeed so very comforting although I also found it quite erotic.

Normally when I would wake up I would feel this wonderful warm glow recede slowly like the tide going out from my body, but this time it stays with me as I drink another cup of the Doctor's herbal tea. He tells me that this is quite usual as he has strengthened the suggestions to enable to me to continue to sleep well in future and suggests yet another cup to further reinforce my relaxed mood.

I leave the practice walking on air, but am disappointed after a few steps to find that the glow seems to be receding. Then I realise that in fact rather than diminishing it is actually contracting as it creeps up my body from my extremities. And it is getting stronger and yet more exquisite as it slowly rises up my arms to my shoulders and then down towards my breasts. My tits harden and thrust out as suddenly as if someone had blown up a balloon and they strain with an unbearable intensity against my bra. I have to fight an urge to rip them free and massage them and this seems somehow to strengthen still further the intensity of this glow.

The tide does not stop contracting. My breasts still feel almost unpleasantly sensitive, but I can feel the glow continuing downwards and at the same time upwards from my toes, my feet, my legs, my thighs. It is with both apprehension and anticipation as I realise where it is inexorably heading and I flush bright red as my breath comes in faster and faster gasps of desire.

It is an almost physical sensation as finally it sinks into my vagina. My pussy clenches and spasms in an unbearable, wonderful feeling of intense joy. I let out a squeal and I clutch the bus stop sign for support as my legs buckle. Then I look round to see the waiting passengers staring at me with assorted faces of disapproval, support, laughter and envy. All I can do is to stare back and try to catch my breath and my dignity.

The bus arrives just then and I plump down on the first seat I can find. My breasts and my vagina tingle with the most delicious feeling I have ever experienced but at the same time they are insisting that I yield to their demand for satisfaction, something which is rather difficult on the front seat of the bus. I reach behind my back and release the catch of my bra. My tits jump out like a jack-in-the-box but still feel constrained by the rough wool of my sweater. My crotch meanwhile is soaking wet. I try crossing my legs but the pressure on my vagina becomes intolerable and finally to make it almost bearable I have to sit with my legs as far apart as I can and the ice blue of my denims glistens darker and wetter as the journey continues.

The bus trip is a nightmare of embarrassment and perverse pleasure. It does not help that the supermarket is a good twenty minutes further on from my flat. I rush into the loo. I am so naïve that I do not realise what is happening to me as I sit in a cubicle massaging my boobs with one hand and trying to mop up my sopping pussy with the other. My knickers are far too wet to keep on but I have to do something to stem the flow. In the end I stuff my bra in my vagina. I helps a bit but as it is made of nylon it does not really soak up much and when I pull up my jeans it seems to make my bulging wet crotch even more noticeable.

Leaving my soaked panties on the floor I rush out to make my purchases and stand in a fog of frustration slowly rubbing my lower body against the checkout shelf as I wait for the other customers to be served.

"Bitch on heat," says the checkout girl under her breath. I would have complained to the manager but my face is on fire with embarrassment (although nowhere near as hot as my vagina.)

I run as fast as I can to my flat and struggle to get the key in the door. Finally I fall in and with a shriek of relief I throw my bag to the ground, tear off my clothes, release my throbbing breasts and plunge my fingers deep into the wetness of my sex. Despite the strength of my desire to release my pent up pleasure I still feel somewhat detached and have a strong sense of shame that I am behaving like a slut but for some reason this further increases my lust.

I have never really explored my body before and I curse my inexperience for somehow despite my overwhelming desire and my shrieks and increasingly desperate gyrations I must have been doing something wrong for I just cannot climax. It is not for want of trying and I am pretty sure that I am rubbing all the right places but my clitoris which had seemed so sensitive now feels curiously numb whenever I touch it and no amount of pulling and prodding can deliver the pleasure my body is aching for.

I don't know how long I writhe on the floor, tweaking, pulling, pinching my breasts, rubbing, stabbing and twisting all parts of my vagina, but despite my overwhelming desperation I can get no relief at all and finally I stop out of sheer exhaustion. It is then that I realise that in my haste I have not fully closed the door of my apartment. Any passer by will certainly have heard my lust, and must have seen much of my body as I rolled around in oblivion.

I almost hate myself for the sight I must have been - sobbing in frustration, nude and covered in sweat and dust from the floor, still feebly playing with my nipples and my sex. My hair is plastered to my head and my pubic hair to my mound, with wet strands trapped inside the lips of my vagina. My bush has always been very thick, perhaps that very hair is insulating me from the final sensation, maybe if I cut it off I can become more sensitive and achieve the release I need?

I scramble around for the shopping bag, rush up the stairs to the bathroom and empty the contents onto the floor. It is almost with resignation that I watch the shaving cream roll out of the door and bounce bounce bounce down the stairs through the front door and roll out onto the public landing.

With a huge sigh I plod downwards By now I just can't care if anyone is around, I march straight out of the door and bend to pick up the can. It is then that I hear the main door of the building slam. The back draft pulls at my front door and I watch in horror as it snicks closed whilst footsteps come up the stairs.

It is Ivan. I don't know him that well, he lives next door with his girlfriend and is some sort of labourer. I never know what to say to them both and I think they regard me as a bit of a snob. He has seen me around several times but he has never before seen me wearing nothing but a pair of mismatched socks and a sheen of sweat, sobbing in frustration and pounding on a locked door with an aerosol can.

"Good Grief, Natalie, What the fuck's up?"

Looking at his crotch I can see what's up but that doesn't concern me at the moment

"I NEED TO SHAVE," I scream.

As explanations go this one is bit lacking. There is a very long pause whilst he looks me up and down. He opens his mouth to speak then doesn't, then he starts again and then still doesn't With a shrug he bends down to examine the lock and try the handle.

"It's locked, you can wait next door whilst we call a locksmith." He turns around from his half crouch with the beginnings of a leer on his face. He hasn't realise how close I am standing. How my rigid tits don't poke his eyes out I don't know.

"NO NO NO NO NO. I NEED TO SHAVE! KICK THE DOOR IN!"

I am jumping up and down with my sweat streaked hair in my wild eyes. My boobs are dancing almost independently and I am brandishing the shaving foam like a war club. There is an even longer pause. I feel that he is going to make another suggestion but then he thinks better and he turns around and crashes his heavy boot against the door jamb which splinters.

In one fluid move I push him aside, slam the door shut and with my other hand hook a chair against the handle to keep it closed then swivel and race up the stairs spraying shaving cream somewhere in the region of my pubes.

In my haste I don't do a particularly good job with rough patches and nicks on my mound but as I empty half the bottle of baby oil over most of my body I have a look in the mirror. I gasp in admiration. The shocking sight of my baby bare pussy covered in sweat and dripping with oil almost, oh almost enables me to come there and then. It does however give me a great idea and I rush into the bedroom where I spread my legs as wide as I can in front of the full length mirror, insert the shaving cream can and hump and work myself once more into a frenzy of overwhelming but still unsatisfied lust.

The rest of the night passes in a daze. Exhaustion means that I have to stop now and then and sometimes I doze for a while. But my rest is fitful and most of the time I hardly know if I am awake or asleep. Towards morning however I have a particularly vivid dream. I am masturbating still, indeed it now seems as if it is all I have ever done in my life, but what makes this so intense is that I dream that I am lying on a table in the research library in full view of the readers, all of whom are staring and pointing. I feel an extreme rush of shame but curiously this merely increases my lust as I become aware of my exhibitionism. Slowly a figure approaches down the long corridor of the room and as he gets nearer my rutting becomes greater and more shameless. I cannot take my eyes off him and feel that I knew him but I strain to make out his face. Then as I am on the point of recognition, I climax.

This is the first time that I have ever climaxed and part of me tells me that I am a stupid cow to have left it so late. Warm waves of joy riddle through the walls of my vagina, through all the muscles of my body which arches and bucks as if I have been electrocuted by lust. I let out a piercing scream. Slowly I become aware of a banging on the partition wall and shouts of "shut the fuck up you noisy slut" as I open my eyes, become aware of my body which aches everywhere and yet feels totally blissful. I dreamily suck the cum off my fingers as I struggle to regain my senses and remember what it is that has finally caused this joyful eruption.

Then as the memory of the dream returns my frenzy begins again and recalling my shame and my joy, for the first time in my life I frig myself to a successful conclusion. It is even better than in my dream as I float forever on a cloud of sheer joy. I have never in my life before feel anything half so wonderful. My cunt, my breasts, every pore of my skin seem bathed in a blissful glow, similar too but much much greater to the tingle I experienced on Dr Carter's couch.

The banging and the swearing start up again and at the back of my mind I squirm in shame at the exhibition I have made of myself but as I lie back with my legs wide open drenched in sweat and contentedly playing with my clit I really couldn't give a fuck.

If I ever feel after last night that I have finally learnt how to come I soon find as I awake that I am wrong. My nipples are still rock hard, still stand out from my boobs like Mount Etna and are just as hot. My vagina still throbs with a deep and burning heat and I still feel on the edge of the most explosive orgasm. Yet like yesterday as soon as I touch it, my bud goes numb and extremely frustrated. Last night I climaxed and it was the most overwhelming experience but I guess that in my inexperience I cannot replicate it now.

I have to concentrate hard as I try to dial Dr Carter as my burning desire makes it hard to co-ordinate on the buttons and to my disappointment I get his ansaphone. I leave a message telling him that something has gone terribly wrong with yesterday's treatment and can he please ring back immediately. Meanwhile I concentrate on the task in hand, the serious business of trying to bring relief to my demanding pussy.

The morning drags slowly on with straining, prodding and pushing punctuated by groans, wails, occasional banging from next door's wall and my increasingly desperate calls to the the doctor but he just isn't returning my calls. Finally when I am considering going round on the off chance, the phone rings. I find it very difficult trying to tell him the problem. I blush and stammer trying to explain that my body is on fire and I can't stop "touching my bits" but can't "relax." He gets quite cross.

"I can't help you if won't make yourself clear. I'm a busy man with a busy clinic. Tell me exactly what you're doing or I'll ring off."

In desperation I force myself to explain and it suddenly becomes easy to speak the words I would have been far too embarrassed to use before.

"I'm standing here stark naked fondling and massaging baby oil into my left tit, I've pressed the door handle into my bum whilst my right fingers are slowly sliding in and out of my cunt, tweaking my clit, I've been like this ever since I left your surgery but I just can't make myself cum, Doctor."

There is a brief pause.

"I take it that this isn't your normal practise then?"

"Doctor I can't cum I'm desperate to cum ever since your last session my cunt has been full of this deep burning desire to cum but whatever I do I can't cum I feel that I am on the verge of cumming but I just can't cum I've never frigged off before I must be doing something wrong because I can't cum but I just don't know what to do to cum you must help me to cum because I can't cum I can't cum and I want to cum I must cum." I am on the verge of tears, but whether it is from shame or my inability to satisfy my urge I don't know.

"Well I'm not a sex therapist you know but I can see what I can do."

Dr Carter explains his idea and I do what he tells me to. I put the phone on speaker so that both hands are free and push the phone into my cunt. With the very first push I feel ready to climax. I thrust in and out quicker and quicker gasping and trying to describe my rising emotions to the doctor. My words must have been muffled most of the time but I think he must have guessed what is up as I reach a crescendo and my cunt spasms the phone out across the passage hitting the far wall as I collapse in a shrieking heap. Surely Ivan will knock the wall down at this rate.

As I retrieve the phone I can feel my incessant desire building up once more but I think I must have convinced the doctor of my overpowering need as he agrees to see me at the end of the day when he has finished with the rest of his clients.

I am still unsatisfied however. The tingle is still there, still growing in my tits and cunt and and I still can't make myself cum. I try and I try but surprisingly the phone can no longer satisfy me and nor can the various other objects that I spend the rest of the day sticking with various degrees of desperation into my twat. I have no idea that masturbation could be so hard to learn. Why have I not practised it before? Why on earth don't schools teach useful subjects?

At last the time comes for me to leave for the clinic but then I find a problem that I had not anticipated. I have been naked all day and I have not realised that my cunt is now so sensitive that there is just no question of wearing panties whilst rough jeans are similarly impractical. The only thing I can find bearable is a pleated gym skirt. It is pretty shabby but luckily it is really short so I have plenty of ventilation. My boobs though are another matter.

There is no possibility of wearing a bra and most of my tops are so heavy that I cannot bear the sensation of their rubbing. Finally I find an old T shirt that I'd had from my school days and which I have been using as a duster. It is crumpled and covered in some distasteful stains, but by cutting it as short as possible I it becomes just about bearable to wear. For some time I stare in the mirror admiring the swell of my boobs and the perfection of my bright pink aureole peeking out from below the fabric. My desire is growing and the pent up tension of my pussy is becoming almost unbearable. I really feel that this time I could cum but then I realise the time and have to run for the bus.