Second-Hand Young Lady

CHAPTER ONE-1

CHAPTER ONE

Dr. Lou Miller smiled slightly, a hungry gleam in his sunken blue eyes. He sat down on the couch beside his forlorn patient, stretching his long legs before him, and rested a broad hand on Sylvia's shoulder, intimately. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sylvia," he said sternly. "Forget about yourself! Why don't you turn him on?" he added, his voice lower and suggestive.

"Doctor!" Sylvia exclaimed, sitting upright, his disloyalty thrusting thoughts of her miserable husband away. "Why don't I-me!-turn him on?" An angry flush accented her high cheekbones and the full, pouting lips were drawn into a hard line.

A comforting smile played on his lips as he stilled the urge to tear off the tight knit shirt that covered the small round t**s whose n*****s were in a constant state of erection in his office, much like his prick, and sheer will power kept his eyes off them.

"Let's try a different tack, today," he said softly. "We won't discuss your getting aroused-after all, we both," he paused to stress both, "know that you are a sexually desirable woman. Let us assume that your husband has a problem. Not you, but with any woman. Think in terms of any woman. Now what do you think would arouse him?"

Sylvia shrugged. s**t, if I'm so sexually desirable, she thought, why don't you f**k me? For the kind of money you get, you ought to do something for me. But aloud, she answered, "How do I know? What does my man want? To be sucked off, I guess." Sylvia sighed.

"And do you object to, uh, sucking Ralph off?" The doctor paused over the word suck, his balls twinged violently inside his tight jockey shorts and his half-erect prick stiffened uncomfortably. He crossed his legs to hide the tell-tale bulge, but it wasn't necessary. Sylvia had closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, considering the question. He stared hard awaiting her answer.

"Not exactly," she answered thoughtfully. "But if I already feel inadequate, then sucking him off makes me feel even more so. I keep thinking I'm not doing it right or something like that You know what I mean?" she asked suddenly, leaning forward to light a cigarette from the small table beside the couch.

The doctor licked his dry lips greedily, his eyes on the sensuous lips now pursed around the filter tip of the cigarette, the smooth cheeks drawing in as she inhaled deeply, imagining his throbbing c**k in its place. His fingers pressed harder into her shoulder, more to still the trembling desire than to reassure his patient.

"Yes, I can understand," his voice low and husky.

"Oral s*x is one of those most pleasurable love-making techniques the human body can experience. It's unfortunate that society has put it down so long." His fully erect c**k pulsed in agreement and he shifted closer to Sylvia, his buttocks sweating with excitement.

Sylvia nodded silently in agreement, dragging on her cigarette, a vision of her husband's short, thick c**k in her mouth, the strong, alien odor in her nostrils, the coarse foreskin rubbed irritatingly against the tender of her wet mouth, as she struggled to pinpoint the veins which would trigger the eruption and get it over with as fast as possible.

"I think, Sylvia," his voice indifferent and professional, his eyes closed to hide the hot hunger burning inside him, "that this might very well be the key to your s****l problems with Ralph. And there is no reason why we can't eliminate your feeling of inferiority in your performance, today."

Sylvia frowned and turned to look into the doctor's eyes, his presence radiating a sensual heat through her and her p***y itched, a stab of excitement shivered in her thighs. His tone was professional, but-her eyes studied his handsome face, the high brow lined with wisdom, not age, wrinkles,-the wide mouth and aristocratic nose, perfectly balanced with graying temples and sideburns she sometimes suspected he tinted. A face that had often filled her fantasies when her long, eager fingers burrowed into her frustrated crotch. Was he suggesting that-the thought was suddenly terrifying.

"Sylvia," the doctor continued, his voice low, almost paternal, "you're been coming here six months and we have made no progress whatsoever in your relationship with Ralph. It's time we tried a different approach. Don't you agree?"

"Are you-uh-I mean, what do you think I should do?" A sudden shyness engulfed her and she lowered her eyes, realizing as she did that the doctor had slid his hand quickly over his crotch. My God, she thought, did he have a hard-on?

"I am trying to help you," he answered, his other hand tipped her head up to face him again, away from the swollen lump twitching impatiently between his legs. "You should do exactly what I tell you to do. Do you agree?"

"Yes," she whispered, blindly reaching out to the table to stab out her cigarette, staring into his hypnotic eyes.

"Very good," he nodded professionally. "Now first I want you to imagine yourself sailing into the house tonight. Ralph is sitting in an armchair, sipping a martini. You are full of confidence, because you know you can give him the best blow job he ever had in his life. And that is exactly what you are going to do to him before he knows what hit him."

Sylvia's luminous green eyes widened and her full lips parted in astonishment.

"You will know that because your doctor has told you so," he said, staring hard at her puzzled frown.

She shrugged. "Words! Saying something doesn't make it real. Just because you tell me I can do something, doesn't make me feel I can do it." She sighed in resignation. More word bullshit. Why did she see a shrink anyway? she thought. Your friends will give you all the words you want for nothing.

"We are going to make it real," Dr. Miller announced. The authoritative tone jarred her.

"Remember, Sylvia, I am also a medical doctor. And I know," he paused to smile at her surprised expression, "I know what is sexually stimulating and what is not."

She nodded. Was he going to tell her how to give a blow job?

"We will play a little game," he continued, his long pink tongue flickering wetly across his thin lips. "Psychodrama. I will be Ralph and you will be Sylvia. Not the patient Sylvia, but the wife Sylvia. And you are going to give me a blow job. However, unlike Ralph, I will instruct you. Then, when you see the real Ralph, you will know you are more than adequate."

Sylvia frowned, half in disbelief-did she hear what she thought she had heard-and half in deep thought. "Are they all the same?" she suddenly blurted out, and her face flushed as she heard herself.

"Now, Sylvia," Dr. Miller chided her, "certainly you realize that the male member is basically constructed in the same way. Granted, it is of varying sizes, thicknesses and length, but the erogenous zones in the genitalia are the same. The issue is how you manipulate your organ to stimulate those zones."

"My organ?" Sylvia questioned, her eyes riveted to his, the phrase incomprehensible.

"Your mouth!" he answered impatiently, "and its parts. Perhaps we should begin with a simple anatomy lesson." The doctor sat upright on the couch, spreading his knees apart, and unbuckled his belt.

Sylvia stared down at his broad hands undoing the belt, aware now of a spreading sticky warmth in her crotch, the elastic of her panties biting into the tender flesh of her chafing thighs, the soft silk jersey of the pantsuit leg, usually cool and refreshing, now like a heavy adhesive bandage.

Silently the doctor unzipped his fly, 'his movements slow and deliberate, mentally willing his throbbing c**k to quiet down. He turned down the elastic band of his shorts and the bright purplish head of his c**k sprang free, the long, thick shaft straining, pushing the elastic band as far out as possible.

Sylvia stared in awe at the gleaming, circumcised prick. That would be easy to suck, she thought. Not like those thick ridges of skin on Ralph's d**k.

"But it's not like his," she murmured, her eyes devouring the doctor's prick, wondering how long it was and how he looked naked. The thought of his tall, lean, athletic body wrapped around her sent electric-like spasms through her t**s. Ralph was tall and athletic, too, but it had never occurred to her that the doctor, her fantasy lover, would have a different prick. It was his tenderness in love-making that brought her to climax, not his prick.

The doctor smiled indulgently. The cool air relieved the pressure in his balls and he was pleased with her reaction. There was always the possibility, although his c**k was nothing to be ashamed of, that his patient's husband's c**k was superior. Usually, he tried to extract some verbal picture from his patient before he began physical treatment, but Sylvia had been unusually close-mouthed about Ralph's body.

Dr. Miller stood up abruptly, his pants dropping to the floor, and turned to face Sylvia. Her eyes were locked to his bulging cockhead, mesmerized by the winking eye nestled between the fleshy heart-shaped mounds. Her mouth was open slightly, the sensuous lips gleaming as she licked her lips, her breath heavier, her hands rested on her knees, the knuckles strained white to control the excitement that pulsed through her tense body.

He stood before her, watching her face closely, his legs apart as he slowly rolled down his shorts to his thighs. His hand shook slightly in relief as his tight balls snapped together at the base of his c**k. Freed, his perpendicular joint jutted out only inches from Sylvia's astonished face, the pink skin taut, a faint trail of bluish veins on the upper side of the pipe-like length barely visible.

Dr. Miller stood for a moment, his hands on his hips, savoring her fascination, his eyes on the warm sensuous lips that would shortly close over his eager organ. It was days like this that made it all worthwhile.

"Of course it's like his," he admonished at last, his voice deep but controlled.

She shook her head without looking up. "He isn't, uh, you know," she stopped, unable to say it, not wanting to compare them.

Shit, he thought. Uncircumcised. Professionally, he knew there was supposed to be absolutely no difference in erotic response, but the small loss of foreskin had always irritated him. He had never been able to quell the pang of envy which rose inside him in the showers of his high school gym at the sight of the hooded c***s of some of the guys-swinging dark and loose.

"Nonsense," he said, forcing down the hint of annoyance rising in his throat, "that makes no difference whatsoever."

Dr. Miller gripped his full shaft at the base, squeezing it lightly, the pressure thrusting the bulging cockhead out further, a large drop of colorless liquid popped through the winking eye, inviting Sylvia's mouth to taste. She stared at the drop, the desire to lick it away and taste him coursed through her, but her body remained frozen, the delicate tapered fingers of her hands hugged her bent knees tighter, every nerve ending tingled beneath her feverish skin.

He smiled smugly and pointed to the tough ridge of skin that curled around his cockhead, dividing the sensitive flesh from the rigid pole. "It's merely here," he said. His finger traced the ridge in a circle and her eyes followed the trail. "Not here," he added softly, his eyes shining, his forefinger and thumb pinched the small cheeks of the head together, squeezing the drop of juice further out of the split.

Sylvia nodded dumbly, unable to speak or move. Suddenly afraid that if she did anything, she would discover that the doctor was really sitting behind his desk and she was lying on the couch.

"And, of course, it is here-" he said, hooking his forefinger over the bulging head to point out the pulsing patch of engorged veins. He lightly fingered the throbbing mass and his thigh muscles tensed as a surge of excitement convulsed through him.