Suddenly I remembered an incident some years ago. My wife and I had attended a party at my club. For some unknown reason she really belted the booze. In bed that night she fucked like a turned-on French whore. In fact, I thought she'd flipped out because for the first time I actually felt her come. Her cunt had convulsed and squeezed my cock like a living thing. I'd gotten another shock that evening; my quiet, pristine wife had screamed fuck language with the ease of a drunken sailor.
"O.K.! I guess that makes sense, Dr. Sherman, but how do we liberate this mass of female lust from the loins of the American female?"
He chuckled. "Don't I wish we could. No, we haven't got the facilities, but we can help a few. A few who get backed into a tight enough spot to own up to their hang-ups and seek help. Our help, and now, your help also.
"Now, my boy, I must turn you over to Joyce for your first in-depth orientation on the average, American female. Believe what she tells you and remember it. She's an expert."
We shook hands and he left. Within seconds Joyce Sherman entered from a door at the other side of the office. At first I couldn't be sure it was the same Joyce Sherman I'd met previously. For one thing she wore one of the shortest micro-miniskirts I'd ever seen, topped with a see-through blouse that was very nearly transparent. Her breasts were magnificent; full, large and swaying with wanton sensual freedom. Large, dark aureole formed concentric backgrounds for the two grape-sized nipples, taut and erect beneath the flimsy material. It made my mouth twitch with a wild desire to suckle them; I could almost feel their hard, throbbing texture.
She didn't greet me for several seconds, busying herself with some papers on the desk. Her hair was no longer confined in the sculptured, upswept design I'd noticed yesterday. Instead it was arranged loosely in a dark, thick mane which fell down over her shoulders in raven-black splendor. I longed to bury my face in the midst of the lustrous mass.
She stopped fussing with the papers, finally, and walked provocatively from behind the large mahogany desk, sat down lithely into a straight chair and crossed her legs. A quick flash of velvet thigh and black crisp pubic hair made it quite obvious that Dr. Joyce Sherman wasn't wearing panties.
A wicked little smile played around her mouth, making her full sensual lips more inviting than usual. "Is something bothering you, Jack? You seem to be nervous. Just relax! We have quite a lot of material to cover, so let's get right to it."
"Right on, Doc," I agreed, but my eyes were still glued to the fantastic sight of her naked ripe thighs. The tiny skirt barely covered the area occupied by that thick, dark thatch of cunt hair.
"Your function with our clients will be that of a beau, boyfriend, lover and sexual guide. Most women don't realize it, but they all are basically whores. They pretend to be either above such crassness or hide behind the old rationale that love and sex are Siamese twins. Don't ever believe it; it's a lie. There isn't a woman alive who doesn't dream of being able to produce a good hard erection in every man she meets. Most of them pretend that male nudity, especially the sight of a cock and balls, turn 'em off. Another He! Seven out of ten women are crotch watchers, and don't forget it Some actually come in their refined pants at swimming parties as they watch the bulge of a man's genitals. I know, because it happens to me every summer.
"The problem, of course, is to make 'em admit it to themselves. Next they must be persuaded to use and enjoy their own sexuality; openly and without hesitation. Last, but not least, they must be trained to be the sexual aggressor. That's the toughest job you'll have. I'm sure you will agree that a woman who takes the initiative really blows the mind of the average male."
"No argument, Doc," I grinned. "At least, I know what it does for me."
She uncrossed, then recrossed her legs, giving me another fleeting look at her magnificent snatch. My cock began to swell and pulse with excitement, so I too crossed my legs.
"Next, you must somehow persuade them to use 'fuck talk' to express their feelings. This will help loosen up their own inhibitions, and also it causes the man to relax and really turn on," she concluded. "OK, that's about it except for the no-nos, etc., which are clearly out-lined in this booklet. Also, you will find several procedures in it that will be quite helpful in breaking down the reserve of more difficult subjects."
She twisted sensually to her feet. I rose from my chair also and preceded her to the door. I hoped my hard-on wasn't too apparent. As I turned to allow her to precede me through the door, she walked sensually up to me, thrust her firm breasts out boldly, placed her hand on my crotch and squeezed. Her fingers were strong and supple. Wise, too, the way they fondled my cock.
"Well, at least I know our girls will have a beautiful hard cock to help them emerge from their cocoons," she breathed huskily. "What's the matter, doll? Aren't I acting enough like a doctor? Don't forget that I'm also a woman. And I don't have any hang-ups, baby. I just love to fuck!" Her left arm encircled my neck and her soft mouth covered mine. Her lips were soft, full and moved hungrily. As I returned her kiss her soft tongue slithered into my mouth, flickering and probing in a wildly exciting French. Her heavy, full breasts pressed against my chest like two lustful mounds.
Then she did something I'd never experienced before-she took my right hand in her own and guided it beneath her skirt and pressed it against her bare crotch, then thrust her mons veneris against it with a lustful grind of her fabulous hips. My fingers closed over a thick, crisp thatch of moist pubic hair and two thick, meaty labia.
I disengaged my mouth from hers and gasped with disbelief and bewilderment. "Goddamn, lady, you better not be a prick teaser. Jesus, my cock is ready to burst and my balls are tingling like vibrators. What the goddam hell does this lead to?"
She pulled away and chuckled. "Number one, I needed to prove a point Can you imagine a woman who acts that way to her husband, not just on occasion, but consistently? What are the chances of him straying when he's got that waiting at home?"
She was right! It was one helluva way to prove her point, but she had most certainly made it beautifully. Christ, a wife like that was the main subject of every fantasy I'd ever had.
"Doc, if I had somebody at home like you, I'd tear up the freeway gettin' home. But now I got this little problem," I groaned and glanced down at my throbbing crotch.
She swiftly went to the desk and punched the intercom. "Is my husband gone for the day, Gail?
"No. I just wanted to cross-check some statistics. I can see him tonight at home. Thanks. Oh, by the way, Gail, have Janet Judson come in first thing tomorrow. I'm going to assign Jack Manley to her case. Yes! I'm sure you noticed, honey, you always do. But remember, dear, one must wait one's turn. Now why don't you go on home, change your wet panties and take a nice cold shower. That ought to help until my goddamned husband gets to your pad!" She slammed down the phone violently. "Bitch. Jesus, that cunt will have fucked every man in America before she's sixty."
I assumed she didn't exactly approve of Gail; she obviously suspected George of hanky-panky with the brunette sex-pot. Christ, I couldn't imagine her being second cunt to any broad alive, although I could still remember Gail's sensuous, swaying buttocks and the deep, inviting cleft between.
I made a mental note to follow up on that later; right now I was about to explore the possibilities of Joyce Sherman, a very sexy lady by any standards.
She whirled around from the phone, eyes smoldering with anger. "Fuck 'em, they deserve each other. What say, Jack. How would you like to fuck a horny Phd… right now." Without waiting for me she ripped off the flimsy blouse, unsnapped the tiny skirt and stood before me naked.