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Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description. Check out the free sample if you can.************"Monty said for twenty dollars, I could see your cunt," he stated in a husky voice. "like maybe lick it a little.""Later. You must first gain an ability to have a guiltless orgasm. You can have a look at my cunt next time."Donna waited patiently for him to pull up his pants and straighten his shirt, then she showed him out. When he was gone, she gave a deep sigh of relief. She had just treated her first patient as a therapist for the Monterey Therapeutic Foundation sexual clinic and that made her feel very good.
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Table of Contents
"It hurts me like a boil at the base of my prick," he explained to her. "I want to fuck so bad I could die."
Donna scrutinized the bulging fly of his pants. "I'll take care of that," she assured him. "When I get finished with you, you'll feel wonderful!"
The young man returned her smile and his hand pressed gently against the bulge. "Monty says a blow job is as good as a fuck. I think I'll try that." He unzipped the fly of his blue jeans and Donna could see he wasn't wearing any shorts.
She flipped a strand of honey colored hair back over her shoulder and surveyed the extent of her client's hard-on. His swelling penis was now completely visible and she viewed it with interest. It looked rather large for a man so young.
"Does it hurt now?" she inquired, in what she hoped was a professional tone.
"Something awful," the young man admitted.
"We'll fix that, " she told him again. She peered into his somber face, noting the thin cheeks, the unruly brown hair that insisted on covering his forehead. His looks could be considered rather plain but he did have nice eyes. She especially liked brown eyes.
"That will be twenty dollars," she said curtly. She grasped the bills he pulled from his pants pocket and thrust them into the front of her smock. She could put them away in her bag later.
The young man watched, anxiously. "Well?"
"Everything will be fine in a few minutes." Donna said. She sank to her knees and scrutinized the stiff prick through the open fly. She touched it with a timid finger, then looked up, again, into his anxious face. "I'm going to take care of you, real good." She tried to smile again but her face felt like it was a sheet of plastic that wouldn't bend.
There was nothing left for her to do but do it, she told herself. Take a hold on that swollen prick, stick it into her mouth and suck on it until she made him come. What could be simpler than that? She peered anxiously at it.
"You'll feel real good when I'm through," she said again.
She waited patiently while he pushed his pants down over his hips, revealing the flaccid sack of flesh that housed his balls. She had never seen one up so close and she looked at it, marveling at its softness and feeling an urge to take it into her mouth. She shrugged the desire away. That could come later.
The young man was becoming impatient. "Well?" he stated again.
Donna sighed an inaudible sigh and peered once more at the dangling penis. She lifted it gently between her thumb and forefinger and drew it slowly into her mouth. She rubbed her tongue across the tip of it to get the feel, then began lapping around the knob. It wasn't so bad after all, she told herself. Not too much unlike a banana with the skin removed.
The young man gasped, then grinned broadly.
"That feels good," he whispered.
Donna closed her mouth down around the warm flesh, holding it in the vise of her red lips and swabbing the end of it with her soft tongue. It did feel good, she told herself again.
Then she began to suck, drawing her cheeks in, putting pressure on the tip of the bloated penis. She wanted to do it just the way Monty had instructed her to do it. She wanted to bring a world of pleasure to this young man.
The young man bucked his groin forward and his face twisted in a grimace of ecstatic pleasure. He gasped again. "That's real good," he chirped.
Donna drew his prick deeper into her mouth. At the same time, she grasped his balls. She had heard somewhere that a man liked to have his balls squeezed while he was being sucked off. If it added to the enjoyment of having his cock sucked, Donna wanted her first patient to have that added pleasure.
The young man bucked again, jabbing his throbbing prick deep in Donna's mouth. His body arched backward, his groin extended forward and he was bouncing up and down on his feet. Each time her tongue lapped over the tip of his knob, his face twisted into another grimace and he grunted with the ecstatic pleasure she was giving him. He was grunting, cooing, spluttering with happiness and his stiff cock was beating a tattoo against her throat.
He was rocking up and down on the balls of his feet, his eyes wild with excitement. His mouth was half open and he was blurting his feelings to the world. "Oh shit, Oh shit!" he gasped. "This is great!"
Donna grasped him at the hips, digging her fingers into his flesh in an attempt to hold his body still so she could maneuver her mouth along his pulsing organ. He continued to sputter.
"Jesus, baby ... Suck it hard ... Oh shit ... SUCK ... OH SHITT!"
She was moving her mouth rapidly back and forth along his prick, rubbing it with her tongue, massaging the soft skin with her lips. The young man began to tense and she could feel him quiver.
Something was happening and whatever it was, she liked it. She circled a hand around his cock at the base to steady it in her mouth. It felt like it was getting longer and harder and was pulsating in her mouth. It felt awful hot against her tongue. Then it jerked. The young man lunged forward and hot fluid was spurting against her throat. She gurgled, then gulped and swallowed rapidly. The young man was moaning, making sounds and jerking his ass up and down. Then he was jerking his cock in and out like he was fucking her mouth. There was one more jerk, hot cum spurted into her mouth and the young man became quiet. He settled down on the flat of his feet and waited for her to finish licking the wet goo from his prick. She lapped quickly across the knob, cleaning it of the last drop of sweet juice. When she had finished, she gave the deflating cock a tender pat and rubbed her mouth with her hand.
"There," she exclaimed. "That should take care of you until next time."
"That was wild, really wild!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Monty said you could really give a blow job!" He peered at his penis which now hung limply between his legs. He touched it gingerly. It swayed to and fro. He beamed at Donna. "Can I see your cunt now?"
Donna shook her head in the negative. "The first session is orientation. You must learn why you are here. Then we can go into a deeper involvement."
He wasn't satisfied with her answer and continued to gaze intently at the spot on her smock which covered her crotch. She felt like he was mentally undressing her.
"Monty said for twenty dollars, I could see your cunt," he stated in a husky voice. "like maybe lick it a little."
"Later. You must first gain an ability to have a guiltless orgasm. You can have a look at my cunt next time."
Donna waited patiently for him to pull up his pants and straighten his shirt, then she showed him out. When he was gone, she gave a deep sigh of relief. She had just treated her first patient as a therapist for the Monterey Therapeutic Foundation sexual clinic and that made her feel very good.
In the six months following her graduation from the University of California at Santa Cruz, Donna Harris had been unable to find a job. Interview after interview had met only with promises to let her know if another opening became available. She found the continual soft spoken no, or sorry, very frustrating and was certain that the lack of jobs was because of the recession. Her father didn't see it that way. Since her mother died, he couldn't see anything from a girl's point of view.
It had been against his wishes that she had attended the liberal arts colleges of the University at Santa Cruz rather than the more conservative courses of Stanford and there had been several rounds of heated arguments as to the virtues of each. Her father, a patrolman with the police department of Oakland, had always felt that meaningful jobs were the ones that required a lot of skill and physical effort. He especially liked secretaries of the type who wore extremely long skirts and could take dictation at one hundred words per minute. A position in the art professions or the humanities, he considered an indolent way of making a living. He was so old fashioned.
After one extremely painful argument, Donna had decided the time had come when she should do her own thing and, again against her father's wishes, packed a bag and boarded a bus for Santa Cruz. A number of her former classmates were living there and she was certain that they would help her find gainful employment in a position of her choice.
After another two months of filling out applications for fellowships, searching for teaching openings in the arts and falling behind in her rent, she gave up and began reading the classified advertisements in the Santa Cruz Sentinel. She finally found one that she thought she might like.
Young women, 18 to 28, now being interviewed as therapists for the Monterey Therapeutic Foundation. Must be attractive. Earnings unlimited. Apply in person only.
The address given was one of the older houses on Third Street hill which overlooked the wharf and the boardwalk on the beach. It was of the vintage that where being restored by the well to do and was surrounded by tall green trees and an iron picket fence.
The man who answered her ring gave her a friendly smile and ushered her into a large living room. It was lavishly furnished with comfortable furniture and to Donna, looked more like a plush living quarters than the waiting room of a clinic.
Donna waited while the man carried on a brief conversation with a casually dressed yellow fellow, directed him through a beaded curtain covering a doorway, to meet a girl who appeared on the other side. Then she sought to explain why she wanted to be a therapist.
"I like men," she explained and the man beamed.
The conversation became more of a discussion than an interview and Donna found herself liking the man immensely. He had a pleasant smile which showed strong white teeth and his hazel eyes had a softness to them which was comforting. His face was round and friendly and his black collar length hair was neatly combed in place. Donna was certain she could detect the aroma of roses and found herself feeling perfectly at home with him.
"My name's Monty," he explained as he spoke. "Monty Fowler. My friends call me Monty."
"I'll remember that, Monty." Donna said timidly, then was put at ease again by his broad warm grin.
"I'm sure you'll do." Monty told her. "Our girls have to like men. Our patients are all men and they have sexual problems which we help them to overcome." He grinned again when he said sexual problems and overcome. Then he stood up. Donna stood up also, feeling a little ill at ease.
Monty said, "Nice legs." His eyes did a quick crawl up her body, pausing at her hips, her stomach and at the firm mounds of her breasts. "Men always have hang-ups," he said, looking back into her face, "after we treat them, they become much happier people."
"I would like that." Donna had stated enthusiastically. She had proven so determined that Monty had hired her immediately.
By the next morning, Donna had purchased a white smock, had written to her father explaining she had found a nursing job and would be working odd hours for a few months. Then she had proceeded to learn what a sexual therapist does when a man comes in for a treatment to overcome a hang-up.
Work in the sex clinic began at eleven o'clock in the morning and ended at two o'clock in the morning when the patients ceased to come in for treatments. In order to cover all the hours, Monty ran two shifts. Donna chose the day shift which was from eleven to six, so she could be with her boyfriend, Marvin Hinks, at night. She had met Marvin only three days before and considered him a very cool young man.
Now that she was working, Donna also decided she wanted an apartment of her own and a roommate to help share expenses. Marvin was living at home, which cost him nothing, and wasn't interested in moving into an apartment to share expenses.
"I need all the bread I can get," he explained to Donna. Marvin was an arts major at the University in Santa Cruz and intended to get a job teaching art when he finished his postgraduate courses. "We can be together ever night and on weekends," he explained. "If I need any extra cunt, you can always meet me somewhere."
Donna said she understood and went looking for another roommate.
Promptly at eleven o'clock Wednesday morning, Donna reported for her second day of work. Monty was very pleased.
"Your first patient is Mr. Cross," he instructed. "He has difficulty achieving an orgasm and I'm certain you can help him."
Donna had never known a man who couldn't achieve an orgasm so she didn't comment. She said she would do her best and went directly upstairs to the room where, Monty said, Mr. Cross was waiting.
He was sitting in a chair smoking a cigarette when she entered the room and he greeted her with a show of interest. "You've got a good looking ass," he commented as she approached.
Donna was surprised but still said 'thank you.' She removed her light jacket and placed it in a closet, then turned to the problem of proper treatment.
"I understand your problem is having an orgasm," she commented, repeating what Monty had told her.
Cross nodded good-humoredly. "I need a good fuck," he said in a husky voice.
Donna frowned but forced her face to remain clam. "First, we should discover why you can't achieve an orgasm."
That amused him and he gave a light laugh. "It's because my cock ain't in your cunt. Get your pants off, honey. I've got a good hard on.
Donna frowned again. But I...." She started to speak, to explain why he was there but the man interrupted her. "I've got the money, baby. A hundred bucks?"
Donna's mind froze on his words, wondering if she had heard him correctly. A hundred bucks! Did he mean a hundred dollars? Was he offering her a hundred dollars to let him fuck her? She tried to speak, to ask if that was what he meant but her voice wouldn't work.
Cross was becoming impatient. He pulled a fat billfold from his hip pocket and thrust bills at her. "One fifty? Is that what you want?" he inquired. "That's all you'll get! I don't like being ripped off!"
Donna reached automatically for the bills and thrust them into the pocket of her smock. Then she took a deep breath. Monty had explained what to do for Mr. Cross's hang-up and she really didn't care. Men have orgasms when they fuck and if Mr. Cross was unable to do so, then it was her duty to let him fuck her in order to overcome his problem.
"All right," she said in a soft whisper. "I'll do it."
His face brightened and he stood up, then he began to undress. "That's fine, baby. Get your clothes off. I want to see your cunt."
"Of course," Donna said. She opened the smock, let it slip from her shoulders and drop to the floor. Then she removed her panties. She wasn't wearing a brassiere and it was easy to kick off the flat heeled shoes. When she removed her hose, she realized she was completely naked and the man with her was a stranger.
But for some reason, she didn't really care.
He was rather short and stocky, with nice hips, she noticed when he had undressed. His chest was curved and hairy and he had shoulders that could have been those of a linebacker for the Raiders. When he straightened up, after removing his pants, .she could see that he was a little bowlegged.
He was viewing her slender, willowy body with growing pleasure and his eyes sparkled when his graze reached the kinky amber hair that wreathed her pussy. He took a long lingering look and grinned happily.
"Monty was right," he stated. "You are a real dish."
Donna wanted to answer, to thank him for being kind but she didn't know what to say. So, she said, "I'm ready." She headed for the bed.
He was watching fascinated, following the movements of her hips as she walked across the floor to the bed. His gaze shifted to her breasts when she turned around and sank down on the surface of the soft satin spread.
The bed was furnished lavishly and the mattress felt like soft featherly down to the cheeks of her ass. She sighed contentedly. Monty had apparently spared on expense to make his patients comfortable and she liked that.
Donna didn't want to admit, even to herself, that she wanted Mr. Cross to fuck her. This was her first time with a strange man. Never before had she ever let a stranger even see her cunt, let alone stick his cock into it. Of course she had undressed where her father could see her and there had been that one time with Tommy James, her college boyfriend. But nothing like this. She knew that this was because it was her duty to help Mr. Cross. That was her job. If he couldn't get an orgasm, it had to be because he hadn't fucked women enough. Of course, he could jerk himself off but she had heard that men didn't like to do it like that. They would permit a girl to jerk them off because that was different. It was only the self satisfaction type of masturbation that they felt was degrading. So it was her professional duty to furnish him with the real thing.
She would admit that this was her first real fuck. She had given in to Tommy James and they had fucked in the back seat of his hopped up Ford. But Tommy hadn't been a stranger and his kind of fucking had been pushing his tiny little prick into her cunt, after he pushed her dress up and forced her panties out of the way, then jabbing it in and out a few times and spewing cock juice all over her new lace panties. They had laughed about it and she had thrown them away and gone home without them. But that wasn't a real fuck. This was going to be the insertion of a hard cock into her cunt by a man she hadn't even seen before until just a moment ago and she was wondering what it would be like.
Cross's eyes were roving up and down her slender supple body, taking in the amber hair of her pussy, the flat stomach with the shallow navel, and the deep crevice between the firm round mounds of her tits. He licked his lips and moved closer to the bed.
"Open'um'up, baby," he rasped. "I think I'll eat some cunt first." He went down on his knees beside the bed, grasped her legs and swung them upward. His action forced her over backwards to a flat position on the spread and she lay there, staring at her reflection in the mirrored ceiling and wondering if the girl up there getting fucked, felt anything like she did.
She felt him spreading her legs apart and then a warm rough hand moved softly up across the flesh of her left thigh, moving even closer to the apex of her legs. She heard him grunt.
Something stiff and warm touched her pussy lips and a tingle swept through her lower vagina. What was he doing? Was he kissing her cunt? No one had ever kissed her cunt before. Not even Tommy James. It felt rather good.
Then it moved up across her sensitive skin and she knew it was his tongue. It was soft and raspy and sort of curled up in her cunt, brushing the sensitive skin and making more twinges of pleasure shoot through her body. It was pushing up into her vagina, lapping all around behind the mouth of her cunt, drawing the juice out and then licking them clean. She felt it dart even deeper into her love hole and she quivered under his touch. It felt so absolutely marvelous.
Her body shook when he found the tender little clit. She knew when he found it because it felt a little like when she rubbed it herself. Then his tongue was scraping the flesh around it and more joy was sweeping through her body.
He was grunting again and she could hear the slurp slurp of his mouth as he licked at the opening of her cunt and drew the warm juice into his mouth. She raised her head, hoping to see what he was doing but all she could see was his black bushy hair. His nose and mouth was buried in her cunt. She raised her ass from the satin spread and pushed against his face.
"Oh Jesus," she blurted. "Do that some more!"
She held her legs up, forcing them wider apart, opening the mouth of her cunt, giving his tongue more room to explore.
"Oh, honey," she moaned. "Do that some more. It feels good, really goo! You're driving me wild with your sucking. I like your eating my cunt, honey!"
His tongue was working up into the depths of her vagina, massaging the walls, dragging back the sweet juice that was accumulating there. Each time it moved back through her cuntal lips, a tremor swept through her body and an itch began to grown around her ass-hole.
This had to be better than fucking, she told herself. This way, there was no exertion on her part; only the factor of opening her cunt to his mouth, then waiting for him to eat his fill. She was certain he was licking his lips after each sucking round. He was making sounds like he was enjoying what he was doing.
Then his tongue was stabbing into her clit again and she could feel the resulting sensation all the way back to her ass. It was increasing the itch in her rectum.
It was good! Oh God, it was good! That tongue, that hot thick beautiful tongue! Fucking could never be like this! She wiggled on the bed, forcing her cunt even tighter against his face. She began to moan.
"Your tongue, Jesus, your tongue! Push it up my cunt, honey! Push it all the way in!"
She was sure he didn't hear her and she knew he couldn't talk. He was too busy lapping her cunt and eating her sweet pussy juice. But she couldn't remain quiet. She had to tell him how marvelous it felt, how much she liked his sucking and for him to keep it up. She could only sob.
"Oh God! Eat me, honey! Eat the shit out of me! Fill my cunt with that beautiful tongue. DO YOU HEAR ME, HONEY? SUCK MY CUNT CLEAN! DAMN YOU, SUCK MY CUNT CLEAN!"
The licking paused for a moment, then resumed. She sensed that he had moved and raised her head to make sure. He was standing beside the bed, bending down at an angle across her body, his head down between her legs, his mouth buried again in furry amber muff of her cunt. This time, his cock hovered over her breasts and swayed dangerously close to her mouth. She grasped it, drew it toward her lips, intending to take it in her mouth and suck it. She couldn't bring it close enough. She sighed and laid her head back on the satin spread. His prick felt awfully hard and she could feel the blood pulsing in the veins that ran along the skin. His cock felt so wonderful in her grasp that she didn't want to let it go. She squeezed it.
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