"Dr. Fischer, I'm going out of my mind," Bernadette said.
It was the following week, and she was seated in the analyst's overstuffed chair, in his office.
"Have there been any new developments, Miss Reese?" Fischer asked.
"Too many," she replied. "I'm being shared between Alvin, my middle brother, and Ron, my youngest brother. I don't know if either is aware of what's going on with the other, but in the afternoons I either have to go to bed with Alvin or fight him off, and at night I either give in to Ron or use some feeble excuse so he won't, go away feeling hurt. But the worst part of all this is, I'm enjoying it more and more."
"I see," Fischer nodded. "In a way this has to be viewed as a very healthy sign. You aren't limited to only one member of your family. Now, if you can enjoy yourself with more than one brother… oh by the way, are you enjoying your second brother?"
"Ron? He's my third brother… oh, yes, I see what you mean, the second brother to have intercourse with me. Well, yes, I'm enjoying him much more than Alvin, but that's because he's much more inventive. He uses so many different positions, and he's as concerned with my orgasm as he is with his own. Ron is very thoughtful. We do everything, Doctor. When he uses his mouth on my vagina, it's like, well, it's fabulous. I've never had anyone eat me that way before, not even my father."
"And you enjoy reciprocating?"
"I feel terribly ashamed to admit I like feeling him immensely. But when it's all over, I get these pangs of guilt."
"I see. These pangs are induced by your upbringing, about how it's wrong for members of the immediate family to copulate with one another. You do understand this?"
"It's much more than that, Doctor. My reason for feeling these guilt pangs is a very selfish one. I know Ron will one day find another girl and marry, and leave me. That means I'll be stuck with Alvin for the rest of my life, and good as he is in bed, I can't stand him at any other time. Doctor, I need help."
"Miss Reese, I'm trying to help you. You have to give me a chance. Now, you say you feel differently with Ron than with Alvin."
"Yes," Bernadette nodded.
"It's Ron's better mind that helps you love him more. You realize this, of course."
"Of course. But there are other factors to consider. I want a life of my own, away from my brothers. Doctor, I'd rather be a cheap whore and make it with a hundred different men a day, provided each of those men could make me come the way my father and brothers have."
"We have to find out what it is about your immediate family that attracts you, Miss Reese. Is there a masculinity in them you find lacking in other men?"
"No, not really. At least I don't think so."
"Do you feel the men in your family appreciate you more than an outsider might?"
"How do you mean that?"
"In a physical sense," Fischer pointed out. "Do you think your physical attributes are better appreciated by your brothers than by other men?"
"Why no, of course not."
"I'm glad you can see that."
"Pardon?"
"I said," Fischer repeated, "I'm glad you can see that. You see, I, like many other men, can see you for what you are, Miss Reese. You are a very beautiful young woman. Please rest assured every healthy man can appreciate that fact."
"You, too, Doctor?"
"Please, Miss Reese. I'm a doctor and I'm talking to you as a doctor to a patient. I don't wish to become personally entangled in this. Then I'd lose my professional objectivity and be of no value to you."
Bernadette stared at Dr. Fischer for a long moment and realized he was even more handsome than she had remembered. For a moment, just for a moment, she felt a flicker of excitement when he looked at her. But his stare was coldly professional and apparently without emotion. Or was it? For a brief instant she thought she saw the tiniest glimmer in his eyes. But no, it couldn't be.
"We have to find out what it is about your family that makes you feel attracted to the men therein rather than other, outside men. Once we discover that, we can redirect your emotions to other men."
"How can we do this?"
"When you come here, next time, I want you to have a list drawn up of all the qualities you see in each of your brothers as well as what you saw in your father. Then I want you to compare these qualities to other men you know, and see what the other men lack."
"Certainly, Doctor, if you think it'll help."
"It's one of the many things we must try," Fischer told her.
This session, like the previous session, passed swiftly. All too soon it came to an end. Once again Bernadette extended her hand as she left and felt Fischer's firm handclasp. A strange shock passed swiftly through her nervous system. It was so swift it felt like a small tingle and nothing more. But it was a definite sensation, and Bernadette recognized that it was there.
Leaving the doctor's office, Bernadette got on the bus and reflected on her session with the doctor. He'd had a good idea in the list, but it wasn't enough. He was circumventing the most important thing, and that was the reaching of a climax, a total climax, both a mental and physical one, without the help of someone from her family. She would have to try something or someone else, in addition to Dr. Fischer's psychiatric help.
So far, she had limited herself to one boy other than those members of her immediate family. Suppose, just suppose, she found an experienced man, a practiced, professional gigolo. That was an idea. Such a man might be able to produce the desired feeling inside her tormented body. It was certainly worth a try.
That evening, after the supper dishes were washed and put away, and her school homework was all done, Bernadette went to her room, put on a short, sexy, pink mini-dress, daubed on some bright-red lipstick, then quietly left the house and took the bus to the heart of town. There were more than a half-dozen bars there, but these she avoided. No high-class gigolo would go into a bar. They took women who paid them out to high-class restaurants and nightclubs. But the reason many women had to pay for companionship was, they were old to the point of decay. Their bodies felt nothing any more, and more often than not, they kept the gigolos for show.
There was a classy restaurant in the next town, so Bernadette took a bus there. It was posh enough, all right, and it had a little bar, as well.
With the lipstick on, she looked over twenty-one, and when she walked into the bar, no one thought to question her for proof of age.
Walking directly up to the bar, she perched her pretty little butt on a high stool and ordered a sloe gin fizz. This she nursed for nearly an hour, refusing a dozen separate invitations from men who were there for the express purpose of picking up a fuck-partner. In spite of her desire to get laid, she didn't want to do it haphazardly. The man had to be an experienced stud. He had to know all the tricks, be able to instill overwhelming arousal in her and make her feel all the things she'd felt with her father and two brothers.
It was nearly ten-thirty when she saw the kind of man she wanted. He was at least six feet tall, with modish dark-brown hair and a debonair manner about him, but he seemed unhappy. His eyes, which should have been glittering, were dull and listless. He was bored. His straight nose wrinkled with distaste as he looked around the bar. A minute later, Bernadette saw why. The woman he was with, who had just come from powdering her nose, was in her late fifties or early sixties. Her face was wrinkled, and she used heavy pancake to cover it. Bernadette thought she had applied lipstick heavily to her own mouth, but the old woman had her beat by at least two layers of Max Factor's best. The diamonds around her neck let everyone know she was more than a little wealthy, and the way she fawned all over the younger man made it plain he wasn't a nephew.
"Come, Robert," she told him. "Our table is waiting."
"You go ahead," the man called Robert told her. "I'll follow you in a moment. I just want to bring a drink to the table."
"Let the waiter bring it. That's why they pay him."
"He'll take too long. You go ahead. I'll be right there."
"Very well," she answered, and turning, swept into the restaurant.
The man walked right up to her and said, "Are you a play-for-pay girl?"
"No," she replied, somewhat astonished.
"One of those poor little rich girls out on the town by herself, huh? You want some action?"
"You already have a date," Bernadette pointed out.
"Pearl? She won't last until eleven-thirty. By then I'll have her safely tucked in bed and I'll be out of her way. Like to do the town a little?"
Bernadette felt her heart thumping. The man was obviously mistaking her for a bored young socialite and was making a pitch.
"I'm not a play-for-pay girl," she told him, "but neither am I a pay-for-play girl."
"For you," he smiled, snapping his fingers at the bartender, "it's all for nothing. Christ! I've been dying to meet someone young for a long time now. I can't stand these old bags."
"We all grow old sooner or later," Bernadette observed.
"True," he nodded after ordering his drink. "But some of us grow old gracefully and have the good sense to avoid trying to recapture our youth through others."
"Pity them, don't sneer at them," Bernadette told him.
"Save your pity for those who can't afford youthful lovers," he told her. "Will you be here when I get back?"
"Depends on when you get back," Bernadette answered.
"You're really a beauty. But then you know that, don't you?"
Bernadette didn't bother to reply. She couldn't think of anything to say, and rather than say something foolish, she thought it best she kept her mouth shut.
"I'll try to make it back before midnight," he told her. "You can wait if you want to. It's up to you."
He took his drink, smiled at her, and walked off. Everything about him was so cocky and overbearing.
On the bar, near where he had been standing, she saw a card he'd left. All it had on it was his name, Bob Mannetto. She took the card and tucked it into her purse.
The evening passed very slowly after that. She should have been in bed. She had school the next day. But this was too great an opportunity to pass up. She'd wait and give him his chance.
Eight other men came up to her and propositioned her, but none of them had Mannetto's suaveness. She politely refused all of them.
It was five minutes to twelve when he reappeared.
"I'm glad you waited," he said, smiling. "I would have gotten here faster, but Pearl got piss-eyed drunk and I had a job putting her to bed."
"Now what?" she asked.
"Have you any special place you'd like to go?"
"I don't have very much time. Suppose you show me your apartment."
If Mannetto was surprised by her directness, he kept his surprise well hidden. He merely nodded, saying, "Don't you want one more drink before we go?"
"No," she told him. "I've had enough."
He led her out and to his Jaguar sports car. Bernadette felt another thrill shudder its way through her. The man really knew how to travel in style.
Forty minutes later, he pulled into the basement garage of an apartment building. He helped her out of the car, and then they took the elevator to the penthouse, where he led her into a very posh apartment. She noticed it was a duplex with a flight of spiral stairs leading from the living roam up to the bedrooms. Everything was so new and exciting to her.
He wasted no time with his seduction. Even as they entered the apartment, as he shut the door, he kissed the back of her neck. Her response was sudden and almost violent. She turned and gripped his head with both hands, pulling his mouth against hers, kissing it hard, and forcing his lips against his teeth to the point where they cut. Her response was so swift Mannetto was almost overwhelmed by the impact of her lips against his. He held her tightly to him, pressing his fingers into her back through her dress, and then his hands were sliding down, one of them moving under her dress, tugging at the band of her panties.
This made Bernadette even more wanton, and as they continued kissing, her own hands reached between them and began tugging his pants open. They tried holding the kiss, but couldn't shuck their clothing quickly enough.
When she couldn't pull off her shoes, Bernadette broke off the kiss, sat on the floor, and literally tugged them off with both hands. Then she wriggled out of her pantyhose and panties, both at the same time. Meanwhile everything seemed to tear right off Mannetto as he threw his clothing carelessly off to the side.
As she sat there on the floor, taking off her dress and bra, she stared up at his solid body. It was even better than Drew Starker's, and he had a real stud's cock. It was long, thick, and waving back and forth in front of her face. She could already feel a certain amount of physical passion building, but would it grow into something more?
He sat on the floor next to her and she pressed her firm body against his, murmuring, "You have one big tool there."
"Yeah," was all he said as his stroking fingers played up and down her body. His fingers pressed into the musky, furry slash between her aching thighs, and the practiced way his finger seemed to slip into her cunt made her feel confident he would bring her to the peak she had anticipated.
His eyes were all over her, glancing up and down as his fingers danced all over her slightly rounded belly. The black, tight curls of her beaver were so shiny they had a bluish tint to them. The rich pink gash just barely showing beneath those blue-black hairs made his mouth water. He had the urge to go down on her, and would have had she not lain back and whispered, "Screw me. Screw me right now."
Moving until he was directly over her, he took an ass-cheek in each hand. God! What an ass. It was just the right size. Each of his palms felt full, but not to overflowing.
His massive cock pushed forward, pressing its rubbery knob through her wispy black muff and the soft flesh beneath. Her own fingers reached down and carefully guided his hard cock to her cunt-mouth.
"Yes," she murmured, her tits heaving in anticipation. "There. Right there. Push your cock in."
"Jesus, baby, you're one hot bitch," he murmured, infected by her burning desire.
"Fuck me!" she pleaded, this last a cry of sheer desperation.
"Here it comes!" he shouted excitedly as he thrust forward, feeling his burning cock move into her cunt-hole. She had a hot, tight, sweet, sucking snatch that defied description. He had fucked hundreds of other pussies in his lifetime, but not one could possibly begin to match this trembling, slithery cunt now swallowing his excited cock. He rammed forward, doing his best to fit, every thick inch of cock into her snatch. There was a wonderful heat, a sucking wetness he had never felt in any other cunt.
Bernadette thrilled to the feeling of his cock inside her, but it still wasn't enough. There was something missing. Oh, it felt one helluva lot better than Drew Starker's insensitive prong, but it didn't thrill her as Alvin's or Ron's could. She wanted more. She had to have more. She pushed her crotch hard against his in the hope of feeling his cock do something more. All she accomplished was almost making him come. Only by the greatest self-control did he keep himself from shooting instantly.
His hands rubbed across her smooth, bouncing ass, feeling the soft texture of the skin. He felt crazy thrills race trough him and he felt his chest being buoyed up by her full tits. The nipples sliced through the hair on his chest into his flesh, sending delicious agony through his body. Her face, staring up into his, flushed with wanton desire, full lips apart and white teeth shining, brought him to new peaks of lust. Christ! It had been so long since he'd fucked one this young. All these wondrous sensations and thrills filled his mind and body very clearly all at once, and the combination was overpowering his wall of indifference, built and developed over so many years.
He couldn't explain it, nor did he want to, but there was something totally different about this woman. She was much younger than he'd originally believed. He could tell this now. But there was more, much more. The smell of her, the delightful aroma of her body was unbelievably overpowering. The sweetness of her armpits made him want to bite into them, and the rich, musky scent of her cunt was maddening to his senses.
As his cock slurped through her swamp-like pussy, he felt the wonderful, cleansing effect as if her seething cunt were actually washing and cleansing his prick.
His ears thrilled to the noises made by her lips as they kissed his, and by her tongue as it licked his. He enjoyed hearing her pant and gasp as she violently shoved her crotch against his in desperation, seeking total orgasm.
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Bernadette thought, humping her sweet ass in rhythm to his plunging cock. Please make me come all over, and not just in my cunt. Give me a total, a complete sensation.
Why? she wondered. Why couldn't she feel as aroused with this unquestionably fantastic cock as she felt with her brothers' pricks, each of which was nowhere near as expert as this one? It was frustrating and maddening. She was going crazy trying to find out why.
His meat thrust its way through her pussy, filling it completely. It touched every hot nerve inside her, automatically making her hump her cunt higher with each following push. And yet, something was missing. Something that should have been there just wasn't. Why? Why?
Mannetto was more and more aroused. His sprang prick was almost smoking as it speeded up, moving faster than she could ever go. Bernadette knew better than to try and match him. She raised her hips as high as possible, then just remained in that position, arched, as his throbbing meat pounded in and out of her cunt again and again. He was fucking so fast and furiously now she was gasping each time he slammed into her twat.
She pulled her knees back a bit, letting his tool sink in a little deeper, and her feet were actually rubbing against his ass on each backstroke. For a while she chewed on her lower lip, then stopped as her mouth opened wide. Her throaty moans were mixed with sighs and whispers. He continued slamming his burning prong into her drooling pussy. Unable to remain still, Bernadette began churning her hips again as she rotated her crotch in a slow, constant motion. Her long, smooth thighs compressed tightly around his body, locking him in a snug embrace, tugging his prick in deeper until he felt as if her slavering cunt was about to engulf all of him. Hell! Let it happen. This was the way to die.
Her dark eyes were large ovals, staring at him as her mouth kissed his. They were black pools of pleasure and he wanted to drown in them.
Yet, even as he felt himself nearing his orgasm, knowing he was doing a more than satisfactory job of fucking her, he could sense she wasn't getting everything from the screw she should have been.
"Make… me… come," she begged, her teeth gritting together.
"Trying," he gasped, not fully understanding her meaning.
Her body tensed almost immediately after that, as her squishy cunt sped his thrusting cock and seemed to stop it. He was positive she was coming when she began screaming, "AYAA HHYAA GHHHHH!"
"Thatta girl," he told her, pounding even harder, slicing his prick deep into her simmering fuck-hole, feeling it gobble every last millimeter of his fucking dick as it slammed as far into her cunt as it could go.
She writhed and squirmed on the length of his cock. Her body turned and twisted at odd angles as she strove to get more and more from the series of multiple physical orgasms she was experiencing. But try as she might, the deep sensation just wasn't there. She thought she would blow her mind as her body searched for something other than an ordinary physical come.
She could feel the swell of his cock as it enlarged to even greater thickness, letting her know his time had come. He had done his best for her. It was only fair she give him his own climax.
The shimmer inside his balls was a gentle one at first, but Mannetto felt it build and enlarge until it was snapping with electrical current, making wild spasms surge through his body as he suddenly screamed, ramming and cramming his whang into her cunt, letting it geyser out hot splashes of thick, white creamy cum. The gummy jizz coated the walls of her steaming twat as it blasted into her with unnerving force.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!!" he bellowed, glad the walls of his apartment were soundproof. He fired one wad of spunk after another into her clinging cunt.
Unable to shoot any more, feeling totally drained, he fell back on the carpet beside her, saying, "You make me came like no one I've ever known before."
Instead of replying, Bernadette suddenly got to her knees, walked over to where he was lying, straddled his face, and pressed her dank, cum-filled pussy into his mouth. Mannetto, never one to shirk, jabbed his tongue into her simmering slit and felt the blistering heat inside.
Her ass settled a little lower as she began rotating her pussy against his mouth, feeling his lips press against her quivering cut.
"Make me come," she hissed. "Make me come!"
Goddamn, he thought, I've made her come a half dozen times with one fuck. What's the matter with this broad?
Her soggy gash pushed harder and harder, surrounding his face with cunt-flesh, rubbing back and forth, humping anxiously. He had to balance her ass on his hands to keep her from crushing his windpipe as she pressed ha pussy harder and harder into his sucking mouth, still whimpering, "Make me come, make me come!"
His cock was already enlarging again, getting harder, and be knew he was good for at least one more climax. He wanted to throw her off him, so he could jump on her and begin fucking her again. But he sensed the desperation in her movements and let her continue to ride his face while his palms supported her ass.
Her hands gripped his hair, her fingers twisting madly, tugging and yanking his face up to press it ever deeper into the blazing cauldron of her cunt. She could feel his tongue lick through her gash, stabbing into her hole and rubbing her tingling cunt walls. His tongue occasionally came out to press against her pulsing cunt, sending mad shudders through her… and still it wasn't enough. Something was missing. There was no true satisfaction in all this.
A nymphomaniac, Mannetto decided. A real nymphomaniac. She couldn't find satisfaction no matter how many times she came. She might well go through life this way. If she found the one man to satisfy her, she would cling to him like a leech, never letting go no matter what the cost. She would wear out any other man, totally drain him.
Mannetto couldn't allow himself to be drained. He made his living with his cock. He needed it for more than a few more years, yet. He had not begun to accumulate the wealth he would need when his cock was no longer in demand.
He sucked strongly, drinking her cunt-syrup as it flowed down his throat, licking her labes and cunt with maddening pressure, and still it wasn't good enough. She wanted more and more and more.
She was coming again. He could tell by the way her cunt-lips closed around his face and the jets of juice came shooting out, completely swamping his entire face. Splashes of hot, sticky, sweet-tasting pussy juice inundated his face again and again, and still she rubbed her seething box against his rough tongue, hoping and praying for something he now knew was beyond his ability to impart.
He flung her down on the floor again, hearing her whimpers as her fingers pressed into her crotch in an attempt to make herself come the way she so badly wanted. She writhed on the floor, and though he knew it was probably hopeless, Mannetto decided to give her one more try.
He sprawled out over her and drove his hot, hard cock into her smoking fuck-hole. Her inner labes parted, and tight as the passage was, his thick cock slid all the way home again. Wham! It was completely buried in the fuming depths of her cunt. She rolled about on the floor, encouraging him to move his own ass, rubbing her tight, squishy sheath around the shaft of his all-but-raw cock. He gripped her thighs with clutching fingers and let his aroused, lubricated tool come sliding out until her inner labes caressed the flanged corona. And then he drove right back in, repeating the maneuver again and again, slowly this time, and building to the summit very, very slowly.
This time, the friction was so great and the sucking so strong there was no way he would be able to piston his cock as rapidly through her weeping pussy as he'd done earlier. He tried speeding up his movement a little and found it impossible.
Bernadette gasped, amazed he could stay with her this long and not collapse. It felt as if he were fucking into a solid mass of jelly the way her cunt walls seemed to surround every last bit of his dick.
Grabbing his head, Bernadette brought his mouth down to her tits. She let his lips and his tongue artfully suck her nipples, first the left one then the right one as her body bucked and heaved even more strongly. Physically she was receiving all any man could offer. He could tell she was getting more than a little something from the way his prick pushed into her cunt over and over. She had enjoyed two multiple orgasms. Why, then, was she unsatisfied?
Bernadette felt spit dribbling out the corners of her mouth. It was no use. It was no use. She was doomed to an incestuous existence. It was the penalty she had to pay for having seduced her father. Had she been content with someone outside the family, she might have been able to attain those fantastic feelings without needing a father or brother.
He was coming. She could tell. He was firing into her cunt, though this time the spurts mere considerably weaker than the previous time. She had really drained him.
When he was finished, he withdrew without bringing her to any kind of satisfaction, but Bernadette didn't care. Another experiment had ended in failure.
They dressed, and tired as Mannetto was, he drove her to within one block of her home. She didn't want him knowing where she really lived. She waited until he pulled away before walking home.
It was three in the morning when she finally got to bed.