Stu Boy - She Needs Some Pleasin

One hand played with the buttock-cheek while the other fingered her. A sloshing sound bubbled from the hole. Her ass rose, and then her cunt drowned the wading fingers. She rubbed the hair-covered skin to the side of the box with her fingertips, and his hand drew away from her privates to aim his prick into her. She swallowed it in one downward motion. She bent from side to side, forcing the head close against each wall, before she arched her spine and began to hump the whole bone.

His fingers touched the swelling of her buttocks while his fingers pushed at her stomach between the pelvic bones. Her hand massaged the slickness that covered the labia, and she rubbed the moisture into the pink skin underneath his own hairs. Her index and forefinger separated around the narrow board as it pushed toward her womb.

Susie's own finger traveled back, covered with sticky water from her hole, to her rectum, and.she played with the tight bung until the first two joints of the finger penetrated steaming ging.

She lay flat on him now, unmoving, as he shot his slim prick through the greased canal and played with the loose ass muscle. Her toes pushed into the mattress. The bed creaked as she bounced evenly, jiggling with him inside her vagina. She stuck her fingertips against the base and separated the small almonds. She threw one leg and then the other to the side of Foster's head, and she kissed his cheeks with her slippery tongue while jamming her chest flat against his. The feel of her tits hardening next to his muscle excited him and sent the blood surging from its root to its head.

She reached behind and hooked her forearms under his legs, which he had brought up behind her and bent at his knees. She pressed on the tight calf muscles as she hurried up and down the stick. The moisture in her organ made friction difficult, but as he was on the edge of coming Foster grabbed hold of her breasts and rubbed it with the back of his calloused hand. His teeth jutted into the slope of the breast, and she came down on the cock in quick and almost mechanical thuds. His foam exploded, covering the walls of her vagina, and swam toward the end of the passage.

As he grew smaller the cunt-walls constricted around the member and slowed its deflation. Her breathing was loud, like wind rushing. She rubbed her own stomach lightly with her palm and Foster's with the back of her hand. The glue started to congeal in her box and dry around the reduced staff. Susie made no move to end the contact.

"Were you faking?"

She laughed at the question, but her mouth did not smile and her eyes were concerned as she answered. "The whole idea of the clinic is to enable people to satisfy themselves and their partners. What sense would it make if I tried to fake, whether I was or not?"

He did not answer her question, but asked her another one instead. "Was I good then?"

"Good enough," she laughed, her fingers skating on the surface of his stomach.

Susie stared at the New Hampshire Highway that stretched before them like a parched throat. Dr. Chiver had turned his FM radio to a classical station, but her foot tapped impatiently to a speedier rhythm. Even that music. began to be obscured by the converging mountains. She wondered why he had insisted she drive with him rather than take her own car. He talked sparingly, and little of his conversation concerned the Sensitivity Retreat he had arranged for the weekend.

"Is John Duster a psychologist or an M.D., Doctor?"

"A psychologist." The radio's static annoyed him and he turned the dial. Silence poured through the well-heated sedan. "Graduated from the University of California at Los Angeles. A pioneer in the field of encounter groups and touch-therapy."

"How large will the groups be?"

"John and I want to leave that to the patients and therapists themselves. Whatever is natural whatever just happens. We don't want to over-structure. After all, his whole philosophy revolves around the principle of spontaneity."

"How much of the therapy will be sexual?" Susie drew on the unlit menthol cigarette and licked the padding of the filter as though it were candy.

"This evening we see as a get-together. If there are any sexual ties forged, that's all to the good. But tomorrow we go into intense encounter-group work, then touch-therapy in the afternoon- and saunas for the whole group after dinner."

"Do you think it's really safe?" she asked.

"Safe?" He seemed genuinely puzzled, Susie noted. "In that way?"

"Well, for the first time we're letting the patients deal with each other rather than exclusively with their therapists,". "But Susie, we have selected the patients carefully. These are not patients, say, like that Frank Mason or Evelyn Weir. These are patients who experience orgasm and sexual pleasure, but not as frequently as they'd like."

John Duster entered the huge room. He had given the fifteen in the group (including three therapists) their white smocks, instructing them to wear nothing underneath, He wore identical garb, and Susie noticed the movement of his cock under the thin linen! His calves, exposed below the hem of the shirt were thin and well-muscled.

Thick gym mats covered the hardwood floors. Eight women faced seven men across four feet of gray padding. Duster took his place at the end, between the rows. He bent his.legs under him to the lotus style, his delicate hands folded over his lap.

"I imagine that Dr. Chiver has told you who I am. Would you introduce yourselves to me and to each other?" He nodded to a pretty young woman at his left. Her name was Alice. She was small and well-tanned, with ebony hair and superb round black eyes. The women introduced themselves, using only first names, and then the men counted off.

"The one restriction we observed in bringing together the people in this room was a negative restriction, really," began Duster. "That was that none of you had met before in your dealings at the Clinic. Further, we are not going to create any false barriers or a hierarchy in this situation. So we're not identifying ourselves as therapists or patients."

"David," he said, addressing the man at his right, "I'd like you to begin." The man, in his thirties, responded to the request with puzzled uncertainty, wrinkling his forehead with an unasked question.

"What I'd like you to do," Duster said softly, "is to go down the line of women and free-associate. That is, let yourself say anything that comes into your mind."

David giggled. "Anything?" Susie was uncertain if he was blushing or not.

Steadily, Duster repeated the question, this time as a statement of fact. "Anything!" He looked down the long mat and did not turn his head either way. As if to himself, he spoke slowly. "Your feelings about their looks-we would be foolish if we were to deny the primitive and natural responses to a person's sexual attractiveness or lack of it-their facial expressions, any feelings or sensations they inspire when you look at them, anything that occurs to you when you heard their voices as they introduced themselves."

David's face colored with blushing. He began tentatively. "Alice… " He looked up at the girl, who flashed him a warm smile. "I was naturally very attracted to you," David began. "My eyes went to your breasts, but I couldn't figure out whether they were small or large, under the smock. I got an erection when one of your nipples became erect against the cloth, and I could see the nipple and the texture of the areola through the sheer linen. When you folded your legs underneath you, I tried to see your pubic hair, but all I saw was a dark shadow." He paused, and he turned to Duster for reassurance.

"Very good," the psychologist replied. "Very honest" He turned to the girl, who was in her early twenties, Susie guessed. "Do you have any response to what David has said, Alice?"