I eyed Mrs. Walker up and down casually. No woman was dressed like that unless it was bait for something further. Her tight skirt limned her full, voluptuous asscheeks very beautifully, and the wide belt cinched tight around her tiny waist only accented the wonderful pair of tits that peeked roundly and firmly out above her sheer, low-necked blouse. I judged her to be about thirty years old. We entered my office and I commenced taking down her medical history.
Thirty-seven years old. I raised an eyebrow and complimented her on her youthful appearance. Widowed since eighteen, never remarried. Et cetera.
I asked her problem. A vaginal discharge – minor, but annoying. I asked her to go into the examining room and disrobe. While she was preparing herself, I got the instruments together for a pelvic examination, then knocked and entered. She was as altogether exciting as I'd anticipated. If I went for mature women, I'd have gone for her.
I placed her feet in the examination table stirrups, and casually continued my questioning of Mrs. Walker. Periods? Regular. Just recently she'd noticed this problem. Intercourse? Not regularly – in fact, none for over seven years. I began to probe, and entered her cunt with K-Y-Jellied forefinger, only to discover that once I'd parted her cunt lips, my finger would enter barely to the first joint. Her small exclamation of pain as I attempted to probe deeper made me halt. I completed the examination with a Q-Tip swab and visually. She dressed and we went to my office for a consultation. I explained to her that nothing appeared to be infected or organically wrong, and that I'd give her a prescription for a douche that would alleviate the minor problem she had.
"I can't take a douche very well, Doctor," she said. "Every time I do, I get so, so, well, aroused I guess you would call it, that I'm afraid I'll faint."
"Very frankly, Mrs. Walker, your problem is about 90% psychological. You are at your most sexually mature age, and going without, intercourse, or other natural releases that your body and mind need, has built up a reservoir of passion within your mind and body both to the point where any stimulation whatever will release a wave of satisfaction. Don't you have a steady boyfriend or even an acquaintance with whom to get release?" I asked.
"No, Doctor. For two reasons: one, this damned small town is too gossipy and I can't afford it. Second, as you probably noticed earlier, I'm so small that intercourse is too painful with a man, unless I got a man who was a mouse," she laughed. "And that wouldn't be much of a man, would it? And frankly, men just don't interest me that much. They're too demanding and bossy. I've lived alone so long that I prefer to be the boss and have control of any situation."
I smiled, thinking rapidly. "I might have just the solution, Mrs. Walker. You would have to trust me implicitly, and nothing must go beyond this office. Now, if you can be completely honest with me and with yourself, I'm certain I can fix you up in every way. Promise?" I asked.
She nodded vigorously. "What did you have in mind, Doctor?"
"A young boy. That way the size would be compatible, and your emotional needs that you require would be satisfied. What do you think of that idea?" I asked her.
"That would be great," she answered. "Because I have a son that is nineteen now – he's in the Army – and all the time he was growing up I watched it develop, and just got a craving for a clean tender young boy to make love to. I never did bother my son, of course," she hastened to add, "but, God, the thrill I got just studying his tiny penis developing. That might be the answer." Then her face got clouded over. "But where can we find one we can trust in this lousy small town? Do you know of someone, Doctor? I will trust you completely."
"Fine, Mrs… Walker. You be here in my office at 4:30 Thursday afternoon," I told her.
"Call me 'Sally', Doc. This sounds promising. If it does work out, I'll be forever grateful," she said as she left.
Half an hour later my office bell rang and I went out. A man of 40-45 was standing there, nicely dressed.
"Doctor Brentner? My name's Wilson. Harold Wilson. You are working with my boy Tony. Remember him? I wanted to talk to you about that for a moment if I could, Doctor."
I showed him back into my office and we sat down and lit our cigarettes. "First thing, Mr. Wilson," I told him, "anything whatsoever that Tony has told me of a personal nature, or of an intimate mental or emotional facet of his life or feelings, I will not divulge – to you, to his mother, to the law, or anyone else. If we can discuss items of a general nature, or you wish a report on his prognosis, or his progress from time to time, that's okay. I realize you are probably paying my fees for Tony, but he is still my patient, and his personal welfare and improvement is my primary concern. Understood and agreed, Mr. Wilson?" I asked.
"Fair enough. In fact, it's nice to know you can be trusted so completely to protect him. I guess that somewhere along the line I must have failed as a father, or he wouldn't have gotten mixed up in this scandal we had. I know he was very impressed with you, Doc. He told Ma and me that you were 'right-on' and that's as high as you can get in kids' compliments today." He shook his head slowly. "Imagine that little devil banging all those young quims and me and Ma never even suspecting he knew about the birds and bees, much less pussy."
"Oh come now, Wilson. How old were you when you got your first taste of it – fourteen or fifteen?" I asked.
"Thirteen." He grinned. "She was twenty-two. I was staying one weekend with a school buddy that lived out on a farm, and they had a hired gal that was puttin' out like a mink. She broke me in."
I raised my eyebrows at him.
"And how many young girls did you 'break in' in the next six or eight years? Don't answer – I'll bet you'd have to count them up. Remember, Wilson, this is just doing what comes naturally. Everybody enjoys a piece that's young, naive, innocent and tender. We love to show off our knowledge and experience, and to have our experience and talents appreciated. And generally the younger ones are more susceptible and naive, so they get conned into it the first time, find out how great it is, and the cycle starts around again."
"Every older guy likes to think he's young enough to get some beautiful young chick and sweep her off her feet – inflates his ego. Don't forget, too, that it's easy for a tender girl to fall for an older guy – the first hero, the first male love she had was her father. But since that's a taboo, and incest is no-no, she's very vulnerable for an older man to substitute for the father image. Personality transference, we call it."
"I know for a fact, too, that incest is commoner than you'd think. Daddy can't keep his hands off young girls, and if there's none available except his daughters, well, so… There's a lot of it in the case histories. In fact, Wilson, to be perfectly frank about it, I think you actually envy your son Tony's getting all that young stuff. Be honest, now, man."
He met my gaze a few seconds, then smiled. "Well, to be perfectly frank, hell, yes. I know how many were in the sex club, and who most of them were, and shit, Doc, I would give my right arm and left nut to have banged most of them. I'll say this – those boys were screwin' the cream of the crop in this town." He sighed. "Well, I just dropped in to sort of check you out, Doc. I guess you know what you are doing, and maybe you can help the boy out some. We've never had any experience with head-shrinkers before, and I didn't know what to expect. Well, I'll be going, Doc. Thanks a lot for explaining a lot of things. I think you're right about all that stuff you covered." He stood up. Just then my office bell rang to notify me of someone in the lobby, and I told him to wait a moment, that I'd be right back.
I was surprised when I went to the lobby. "Why, Linda, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you have waited and come with Betty tomorrow?" I chided her.
"But I couldn't wait, Doc," she replied. "I need some good fucking in the worst way. Please!" And when she was smiling like that, and thrust those mountainous tits toward me, I could feel the heat rising in my crotch. "Okay," I said, "c'mon." And led her into my examining room. "I'll just be a second, honey. You get comfortable," I told her, and headed into my private office, where Harold Wilson was still waiting.