Stu Boy - She Needs Some Pleasin

Her forefinger slid into the valley between the two breasts. She followed the straight line. Now, one breast in each hand, she rolled the willowy mountains of flesh. The soft forms changed like the shadows of running figures. The tit hardened to pudding texture, then to hot coal. She licked the other areola, and tiny beads erected inside the ebony rim.

She rubbed her ass against the bed's mattress. Her feet moved off the side of the bed, and her toes curled around the lines of the cold metal frame. Her right hand moved to the space between her sprawled limbs. The index touched the loose-muscled globes of her ass, almost hidden behind the archway. But now the long finger moved past the crack to the clitoris. She twisted the puckered labia, then dug deep inside the tightened chasm of the vagina to wet her finger. She coated the rising clit with the new fluid. Her pelvis pushed forward and her forefinger drowned inside the cunt while she bent the index back. Its knuckle scraped the yielding tissue of the tiny berry.

Her body ground out a quick rhythm, though she moved only below the waist. She sniffed and smelled her cunt odor in the windowless room. She blinked at the overhead fluorescent light, and it was then that her eyes fixed on the small. circle in the west comer of the room. A half-inch inside of the black plastic rim was a glass lens. She held her breath with the sudden knowledge that she was being photographed. "It's like a stag movie," she thought in horror. But she proceeded because of the fear that she might not climax within the allotted time; thus she might lose the job that would win her, Susie Giver-a lowly editorial researcher a staff writing job on Woman.

Her thumb crossed over the inflated clitoral ridge, and with each wet stroke she cared less that she was being observed, and more about the satisfying orgasm she knew would surely come.

"Ah… " Her voice whistled as she murmured to herself, oblivious now of the camera. She rubbed the clitoris fiercely. She pushed the long, bony fingers inside the oozing chute. She turned the digits of her hand and stretched the sides of the opening. She was wet. The path of the fingers was made slick and easy by the oil that dripped now from the lining of the vagina and greased luxuriously the slivers of raw pink labia.

"Uh… uh!" she grunted, and her legs spread so far apart that she thought she had sprained them. The heels pushed into the mattress, and her ass left the bed. Her right arm rubbed lightning-fast at the clit while her left straightened and flailed in the air. She felt her ass bounce up and down as she came, but the inside of her was lost in a vacuum in space. She bit at her lower lip and drew a thin line of blood. She tasted salt as the walls of the twat opened and then shut tightly around the machine of her joined fingers.

Chiver snapped the rubber clamps down over her wrists and fastened them to the panel. He attached a rectangular slab of plate glass to the one-way mirror. The glass, just below her nostrils, recorded the force and frequency of her breathing. Another tiny camera, placed on a small tripod to her left, focused on the curve of her pupils to measure dilation.

"When do they begin, Doctor?" Susie felt uncomfortable. She expected at any moment that either the slim blonde behind the glass or the overweight gentleman in his early thirties would look her straight in the eye and blanch with horror. But they did not.

"There is naturally a process of acquaintance before they… begin therapy."

"Does the girl know she's being watched?"

Chiver's eyebrows flexed. "In coming to work for the Institute, she went through" the same series of tests that you're going through now. So that she knows it is possible. But," and here he paused, emphasizing his words deliberately, "we at the Institute value privacy less than the acquisition of knowledge about sex and the successful treatment of sexual problems through one-to-one consultation." Susie nodded agreeably.

She noticed some action through the glass. Both the girl, whom the patient had called Terri, and the fat man were naked. His penis was noodle-limp between his legs. Fat bulged out to almost cover it.

The man's round face seemed to grow larger as the girl took the bent pole in her hand. It was hidden now from Susie's view. She glanced down and saw smoke form on the glass beneath her nostrils. She was breathing heavier, faster, she noted with surprise. She wondered if her pulse also showed her excitement.

Terri Carson drew her hand away and Susie saw that the small prick was stiff. The therapist pulled on the foreskin, and the heavy man's shoulders rose as his mouth opened to take in air. The fat on his thighs jiggled as her fingers brushed his skin. She pushed her fingers inside the wrinkled scrotal bag. The man's hand clutched at the edge of the mattress and his body moved back.

"Oh yes, that's right, Harry. That's just right," Terri murmured, and she put her hands on his shoulders. Now Susie saw only her back and, under her arm, the sides of her large swinging breasts. Gently, the girl pushed Harry down to the bed. He drew his legs up toward him from the floor, and she probed between his legs for the small but erect treasure.

Her other hand massaged his almost feminine breasts. A soft humming came from his throat. Terri's elbow bobbed as she drew the foreskin expertly up and down the sides of the slender prong. Involuntarily, Susie felt her right hand pull away from its moorings on the electronic board toward her chest, but she was strapped firmly. Instead, she rolled her wrist against the metal panel. She shifted in her seat.

"That's it, Harry, oh, yeah… I told you you'd get hard." The mass of flab stirred on the bed. "Do you want to fuck me? I want you to fuck me, if you want to." She clutched his upper arm, and he rose toward her on his own power. The fat rode down his chest.

Terri tossed her head lazily back toward one shoulder while she began again to thrust her stomach forward into his. Harry's tool surged into the first few inches of her vaginal tunnel. She wiggled the cunt-walls against the fully penetrated dork. Her hands clamped the broad buttocks, which shivered like Jell-O inside the grip. He moved straight inside her with each forward stroke. Her hips pushed her crotch up into the mass of his stomach. The fat man breathed heavily. He wheezed as if near the end of along foot race.

"Oh… that's real, good, Harry… real good. Oh, yeah, I love your prick. Do it to me, do it to me good." Spasms of pleasure racked the man's fleshy body as he delivered his load of cream near the beginning of the long vaginal hole. Susie wondered if the therapist was only imitating the orgasm that appeared to rock her lithe, lovely body.

The coupling behind the plate glass froze into a tableau, and Susie, still breathing hard, turned to Dr. Chiver. He in turn looked down at a meter from which he read the rate of pulse contraction. He smiled. "Once the films are developed, I'm sure you'll have passed the test. No one who has shown a similar increase in pulse rate has ever failed."

Susie was relieved. "What's next?"

"There is a second part to the arousal index. It is not as important, but it does indicate whether you are a fully sensuous woman, because it shows whether you can be excited by the mere representation of sexual contact."

Chiver walked slowly and deliberately to a file cabinet m the corner of the testing room. He withdrew a manila folder crammed with several thick magazines. "These are so-called pornographic pictures, Miss Giver. While you look at these, the various tests will produce further readings as to pulse and so on. In the meantime, my assistant and I will set up the screen." A young Filipino moved to the closet, and Dr. Chiver helped him with a movie screen. "Begin whenever you like, Miss Giver. Just press that red button."