Hello? Dr. Strangeguy? Are You There?

thanks Tip, for the inspiration..

She knocked on the door. Rang the bell. No one answered. Despondent, she sat on the front step and thought about what she could do…should do…next. She was in a funk. In a slump. In a sexual freefall…and not in a good way.

It had taken more than a little nerve to show up here, at the good doctor’s office, without a call or an appointment or anything. She heaved out a sigh. Why had she thought he’d be there, anyway.

The door opened behind her, and she leapt to her feet.

“Oh,” he said. “Did I mis-schedule an appointment?”

“Dr. Strangeguy,” she said, her voice quivering. “No…no I don’t have an appointment. I’m so sorry…but…but..”

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

“I’m desperate,” she whispered.

Oh, he thought. My favorite…

He checked his watch, frowned a little.

“Well, I can’t leave you in such dire straits,” he said at last. “Do come in.”

“Thank you! Are you sure…I mean, if you can’t …if you don’t have the time..”

“I always have time for a desperate patient,” he said as he ushered her into the hallway, and down to his office.

He sat behind his desk, gestured her to take one of the chairs in front. He took up some papers, and tidied them into a stack. Pulling a notepad from a drawer, and taking up his favorite hand-made, wooden pen (made by a fellow Dom), he rose and took the chair beside her.

“Alright, my dear, what seems to be the problem.”

“I’m stuck. Just…stuck.”

“Perhaps a little more specifics? ” he said, his voice trailing off, encouraging her.

“Well, you see, I…well you know. I write…porn.” She all but whispered the last word.

“Yes, I remember that.”

“I’m blocked. Stuck. Because…I can’t….”

He waited as she trailed off again. The seconds ticked into minutes, but still he waited. She looked at her hands. Her feet. The wall. His feet. Back to her hands. At long last she looked directly at him.

“I can’t orgasm. I just can’t quite get…there. I get almost there, and I’m kind of excited, but I just can’t quite seem to …

“Orgasm.”

“Right. And if I can’t…then I can’t write about it, now can I? I mean, I like to write about what I know, and what I want and what excites that dark place inside me. But my imagination is tied to my …” she swallowed, dropped her eyes for a moment. “Pussy.”

Could this be any more perfect, he wondered? A desperate woman he knew was a slut, begging for his assistance in cumming? Inwardly, he chortled, all but rubbed his hands together in glee.

He nodded crisply.

“Well then. Are you looking for me to fix this problem? In whatever way I deem will best help you?”

She nodded, licked her lips nervously.

“Very well then. Come here.”

Obediently she rose to stand in front of him. He gestured to his lap.

“Lay down on your belly. That’s it. I see you wore a skirt. Good, very good. That shows me that you’re still interested in using your body. That you’re still a slut. Say that. Say “I’m a slut, Sir.”

Her voice, muffled from her position came haltingly.

“I’m a slut….Sir.”

His hand cracked down on her bum through the fabric of her skirt. She gave a small yelp. He smiled.

“Oh, this will never do. You won’t hardly feel a thing.”
“I did! I felt it!”

“No, not the way I want you to feel it, my dear.” His hands lifted the hem of the skirt, baring her bottom.

“No panties? You slut!”

He smacked her cheeks, left, right, right, right, right, left. She moaned. She wriggled. She whimpered. He struck harder, until she began to struggle in his lap, which his cock very much enjoyed. Her ass grew deeply red; he felt the heat against his palm as he continued to beat her bottom.

When he was done, he slipped his fingers up into her slit and fingered her cunt.

“Oh my, what have we here? Your pussy is wet, slut.”

His fingers stroked up and down, never touching the part he could feel her yearning for him to touch.

He pushed her off his lap. She slipped to the floor at his feet.

“Mouth. Open.”

When her lips parted, he slipped his fingers inside. She lapped, sucked, lapped again until his fingers were cleaned of her juice. Leaning back, he loosened his fly. Her eyes raised to his. At his look, she rose onto her knees and began to suck him.

“No hands,” he admonished, when she would have reached to stroke him. Grabbing a hank of her hair, he forced her down on his shaft until he felt her throat clench, the delicious sound and feeling of her gagging on him.

He pushed her head off his cock with an audible pop.

“Take out your tits,” he growled. She lifted her tank top, yanked down her bra, her fat jugs bouncing onto her chest. The nipples were pink, and hard as diamonds. Reaching down, he grabbed them, tugging her closer. She groaned as he twisted them, then pulled his fingers off them with a snap. He slapped one, watching it bounce off the other.

“I like slapping your fat tits,” he said. Whap! Whap! Whap!

“I bet your cunt is dripping,”

“Yes, Sir, it…it’s very wet.”

“Stand up,” he said. When she rose, he pulled her forward and sat her on his dick. They groaned together.

“Stand.”

“Sit.”

“Stand.”

“Sit.”

“Grind that cunt down now, you little fuckpuppet.”

She moaned, whimpering i’m so close, Sir.

“Stand.”

She rose, her eyes begging.

“Spread your legs, whore.”

He reached forward, smacking her pussy. He felt her swollen clit against his palm, smacked it again. She was moaning constantly now, as he repeatedly. struck her hungry cunt.

“Kneel,” he ordered brusquely.

She couldn’t stop the writhing of her hips, fucking air, her body quivering with need. He grasped his cock and pulled once, twice, before erupting ribbons of cum onto her tits. He sat back, breathing deeply, before putting himself away.

“You’re done.”

“But…but…I haven’t cum…”

“Go home. Now. Get naked. Masturbate right inside your door. Right there on the floor like the horny slut you are. Cum. Cum hard. Then get up, go to your bedroom, and do it again. Now, get dressed. And don’t wash any of that off until tomorrow.”

As she put herself together, he rose and went to his desk. Taking his prescription pad out, he wrote for a minute, then tore it free. Folding it, he handed it to the disheveled woman.

“Read this later. Go now. I expect a full report in your blog, tomorrow.”

“Yes Sir. Of course, Sir…thank you.”

She scurried out, and home. She did indeed pop off the two orgasms as soon as she arrived. Laying on her bed, she remembered her clothing was strewn all over her entry hallway. Rising, she went downstairs to retrieve them, and found the prescription he’d given her. She laughed when she read it, and ran upstairs to her computer.

Take two orgasms and write about it in the morning”.

A Perfect Balance

Hi peeps.

I know, it’s been quiet here in my little corner of the blogosphere. Covid19 has kept me fairly quiet up to now, but my job is starting to get busy again (and I’m being safe, promise!).

After the initial panic attacks, sheer terror, the fear, the worry, the stress headaches…I can honestly say that I’ve settled into this new way of life.

Humans are really pretty fucking adaptable.

Because, yanno, we can’t GO anywhere or DO anything…so we’re finding fun with family, and home. And it’s working. I’m happier. I’m steadier. I’m sleeping better-most nights, at least. There’s a curious sort of peace that comes with accepting that it has to be this way for now. I don’t know if that’s a function of my philosophy of “suck it up, buttercup” or my age, but for whatever reason, I’m pretty happy these days.

Summer is always busy for my family and I–it’s time to tackle those tasks that you can’t really do in midwinter. Outside painting, pruning, inside projects…we’ve got something going nearly every weekend.

And my sex drive is starting to revv up. I’m on tumblr looking at all the sexy pix, reading all sorts of smutty captions to various photo’s, and generally masturbating nightly.

For sleep, you understand.

Nah, not because I’m a horny slut. You kiddin’ me? Who has time to be horny during The Covid??

*laughs*

yeah. You can limit my freedoms, but not my libido! And where there’s orgasms, apparently, there’s hope.

~n~