Monday was a drag for Marc. He had arisen and driven to his office to find a message waiting for him from Dr. Andrea Murtaugh. He dialed her number and spoke briefly with her receptionist; his usual one p.m. appointment had been cancelled and the girl had informed him that Dr. Murtaugh would be out of the office until five. She would, however, be able to see him then, if his schedule would allow it. Marc thought about it briefly-he had to pick up his recorder across town and set the wheels in motion for the coming weekend. And as he thought about that, his prick stiffened against his thigh.
"Mr. Andrews?" the receptionist queried.
"Ah, yes… excuse me. Yes, I'll be there at five thanks for calling," and he set the receiver back in the cradle, his thoughts still with the comfortable home across town where his next exciting interlude was to take place. A family of three-Peter Towne, his daughter Cindy and his new wife, Barbara-closer to his daughter's age than his own. Marc knew that Peter Towne often spent the weekends away from home, and hopefully this weekend would see him gone. Marc ached to take the beautiful young stepmother and the Towne girl together, and as he thought about it he recalled the past two days spent with the Negress lesbian and her lover, Marty. Good, he thought, both of them were more than he had expected, and now the thought of a near replay with the teenager and her stepmother sent his pulse rating.
Marc worked furiously that morning on several open accounts, and as the lunch hour drew near, he glanced at the digital clock on his desk and decided to work through. He buzzed his secretary. When she entered his office he instructed her to bring him the file on one of the accounts he was working on. As she complied, Marc glanced up and realized the girl was not who he thought she was. She smiled pleasantly as she lay the folder on his desk and he asked, "You're new, aren't you?"
Still smiling, the girl replied, "I'm from the secretarial pool, Mr. Andrews. Betty's off with the flu… my name's Lorna."
He nodded and picked up the folder a-s the girl turned to leave the office; her hips swayed sensuously beneath a short, tight knit skirt and Marc rubbed his prick beneath the desk as she paused at the door and smiled again at him.
"Anything you need, just buzz… " she said in a lilting tone.
"I… I'll be working through lunch," he told her, and gazed at her full breasts beneath the knit material of her dress. "I'll call if I need anything."
"Do that…" she said provocatively, and gave her head a flip to one side; her short dark hair haloed her face as she stepped out of his office and closed the door.
What the hell was he thinking about? Work and play do not mix, he reminded himself as the girl left the room. He had made that a steadfast rule when he had come to work for Levison and Breen several years before, and he had lived up to it. Of course, playing with the office help was where he drew the line; their computer often gave him the information necessary to run a complete check on an individual, and the result was that Marc often knew more about the person than the records might indicate. Crosschecks with other agencies, personal observation, and his telephone recording devices often rounded out his information, and he had an endless stock of names to choose from. Marty and Jamie had been something of a coincidence, for neither of them were associated in any manner with his firm, but the others he chose for his sexual escapades were nearly all in the computer banks of Levison and Breen and to date, Marc reminded himself with a smile, not one had filed a complaint with the police.
Marc stood and stretched as the hands on his wristwatch stood at twelve thirty. He confirmed the time on his desk clock, then walked to the restroom he shared with Bob Sanford, the cost analyst who occupied the adjoining office. As he stepped into the narrow cubicle and reached for the light switch, a sound from the next office caused him to stop. He listened for a long moment, then moved quietly to the other door to find it open a crack. In the other office, Marc saw Bob Sanford kneeling before his secretary-a plump little red-head named Sandy. Bob was lifting the girl's skirt, and as Marc watched he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the girl's panties and drew them down to her ankles. Marc felt his prick twitch as the girl lifted one foot and then the other as Bob removed the panties from her supple legs.
Marc rubbed his swollen prick as Bob lifted the girl's skirt again and she held it up as he began kissing her knees, then moved up to her naked thighs. Running his hands up the backs of her legs, Bob lifted his face then and nuzzled the dark red patch of pubic hair that covered the girl's pussy. Marc unzipped his pants and watched with fascination as the girl spread her legs and Bob cupped the ample cheeks of her ass with both hands. He pulled her to him and inhaled deeply as she tucked her skirt in about her waist and let her hands go to his head. She pulled him to her then and Marc watched her face closely as Bob closed his mouth around her cunt.
"Ohhhhh the girl moaned softly. "Good… so good."
Marc pulled on his prick and fondled the head of it as the girl arched her body to Bob's sucking mouth, and he noticed Bob unzip his pants to free his straining cock. The girl writhed under the man's mouth, and, as his tongue entered her time and time again to tease her swollen cut, she gasped for breath. Marc wondered at the display and wondered too if Bob was one of those men who got off on just eating pussy. He watched as the cost analyst fondled himself but made no move toward the girl's body except to lap her cunt. The girl held tightly to Bob's head as he took long wet licks of her obscenely exposed cunt, and his fingers made red marks on her hips as he pulled her to him. As she ground her pussy into his face, it was obvious from the look on hers that she was about to orgasm under Bob's oral manipulation. Her plump body shuddered slightly. Then, to both the, girl's and Marc's surprise, Bob stood suddenly and turned the girl around facing the desk she had been leaning against.
"Stop!" she cried as he bent her forward and shoved the head of his prick between her spread legs. "Don't! You promised!" she cried again, and Bob's hand clamped down over her mouth to silence her. Marc's prick throbbed painfully in his hand as he stroked it and realized he was witness to rape! She hadn't bargained for what she was getting and Marc wondered at the girl's naivetй in thinking any man would be satisfied just to eat her pussy and receive nothing in return.
"Hold still!" Bob hissed between clenched teeth as he tried to force the head of his prick into her clasping, wet cunt. But writhing as she was, and holding his hand over her mouth, Bob couldn't seem to get the chore accomplished. Marc thought idly that he could give the fellow some pointers on the subtle art of rape, but as he thought about it he recalled his first few feeble attempts that had turned into fiascos. So he watched with interest as the girl twisted and. flailed with her arms, unwilling to let him fuck her. Struggling, Bob tightened his hold on her mouth and hunched forward with his throbbing prick; but instead of hitting the desired target the man's cock slid upward between the cheeks of the girl's ass, immediately, she stopped struggling and seemed to relax as she moaned through the fingers about her mouth. Marc watched then as she reached around between them and took hold of his prick with her fingers and guided it into that puckered ring of muscle between her abundant ass cheeks. Bob didn't seem to know what to make of Sandy's sudden submission and he let go of her mouth as she bent forward of her own volition, and gasped as the head of his prick entered her tightly clenched ass-hole.
"Uhhhhnnn… " she moaned. "Oh, Bob… shove it in… fuck me in the ass… fuck me in my ass-hole!"
Awed, Bob took hold of the girl's fully fleshed hips and shoved forward. Marc saw his long prick sucked into the girl's anus and she raised her ass even higher as he shoved it in.
"Yessss… oh, God, yes!" she cried. "Fingerfuck me… play with my clit… make me come!" She spoke lewedly and writhed under his hunching body. Marc was holding on to his own prick tightly, and his breathing was labored and ragged as Bob fucked the girl in the ass-hole only a few feet away from him. He felt his own juices rising, and he was tempted to burst into the room and shove his throbbing prick down the girl's mouth as she gasped for breath. Jerking his prick back and forth, Marc saw Bob stiffen against the girl's ass. She cried out as his prick erupted deep in her bowels, shooting a load of hot sticky come into her. Marc tensed as his own orgasm approached, and he reached behind him for a hand towel to catch his load. As his prick spurted its load of come, he sucked his breath in sharply, while the girl quivered, rose to her toes and threw back her head, crying, "Ughhhhnnn… comming… Shit fuck me! I'm commmmming!" She gasped loudly as Bob's fingers dug into her fleshy hips.
Marc's prick jerked spasmodically as his sperm boiled from the distended glans to spurt into the hand towel he held tightly about its head. He shuddered then as Bob pulled out slowly and turned the girl around to face him. She crushed her mouth over his and pressed her body against him as they kissed passionately. Marc wiped himself clean, dropped the towel in the chute and backed out of the bathroom quietly as Bob spoke to the girl in hushed tones. He had been shaken by the accidental witnessing of his friend and the red-haired secretary, but he realized it had been quite gratifying to see someone else start with rape and wind up with a willing partner in sex.
He spent the remainder of the afternoon going over the accounts and, as he prepared to leave his office, Lorna-the girl from the secretarial pool-stuck her head in the door and smiled. "I'll be with you for a few days, Mr. Andrews… Betty really has it." She cocked her head to one side and smiled again slyly as she added, "I rarely go to lunch myself… my roommate and I usually bring ourselves a sandwich."
"Your roommate?" Marc questioned as he locked his desk.
"Uh, huh… Sandy-Mr. Sanford's secretary. You know, the chubby little redhead…"
Marc nodded absently as he felt his face flush. It was almost an open invitation-providing he knew what went on between Bob and his secretary. "Counting calories or dollars?' he asked, lightly, and walked to the door as she stepped aside.
"My blessings, actually-I love the work here and I'd really like to find something more permanent than the pool-you know, work with someone I understand and whom I could help."
Marc got the message and smiled back at her as he left his office. "I'll keep that in mind, Lorna," he told her, and kept walking.
Marc stopped for a sandwich and a drink on his way to Dr Murtaugh's office, and he wondered about the late appointment-he had been under the impression that Murtaugh worked very short days and that evening appointments were as dated as house calls for one of her profession. Evidently not, he concluded, and ordered a second drink before leaving the bar and grill and driving to her office.
Felcia, Murtaugh's receptionist, ushered him right in as soon as he arrived. He thanked the girl and turned to find his analyst sitting behind her desk, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on her pretty nose. She looked up, smiled and waved to Felicia, then said, "Sorry about the change in appointments, Marc, but I had to spend the afternoon in court."
"No imposition," he replied. "Thanks for the late appointment."
She removed her glasses and closed a file she had been reading. "No imposition," she quipped as she stood and came around the desk. She gestured to the couch and followed Marc across the room. He removed his jacket and tie and tossed them aside as he flopped on the couch. "You feel right at home there, don't you?" Murtaugh questioned as he kicked off his loafers.
"Comfortable." he replied, and sighed heavily.
"And trusting?" she inquired.
He shrugged and glanced at her. "I suppose, why do you ask?" Sitting on the oddly shaped stool, the psychiatrist replied, "Quite often, Marc, our inability to deal with reality as we perceive it is due to our seeming inability to trust other human beings." She smiled warmly, leaned forward and added, "Do you trust me, Marc?"
He tried to read the expression on her face, but the smile told him nothing. He sighed and nodded, "I… I suppose I do, Doctor, or I wouldn't be here."
"Fine-I feel that the establishment of trust between us will lead to your finding many of the answers you seek-within yourself."
Marc studied her face for a long moment, then asked, "In what way?"
"Well, for starters, if you trust me-really trust, Marc-you'll be more comfortable exploring yourself when you're with me. From trust comes honesty, and before you can find those answers I mentioned you're going to have to feel completely at ease with me and with your self." She gestured, "We invariably hold back, Marc… that's the truth I'm speaking of, which differs greatly from telling something other than the truth."
He nodded, correlating what she said with what he felt, and he knew she spoke. the truth. Only occasionally did he indulge in truth as opposed to justification. "I feel I can be honest with you," he said after a few moments of contemplation.
"Close your eyes, Marc… " she said softly. "Lay your hands at your sides and stretch out… we'll test your trust."
Marc did as she asked him and wondered what the hell she meant about "testing" his trust in her. He sensed her rising from the stool, then he felt her ease herself down on the side of the couch near his knees. Her hand touched his; then he felt her lean across his body and touch his other hand. "Relax, Marc," she told him softly, as she stood up and walked to the head of the couch. Marc felt her hands on his brow, stroking, soothing, and her voice came to him almost as if it was far away. "Relax, Marc… breathe deeply and just relax all your muscles… that's it… that's it," she purred. Then, Marc felt something being slipped over his head and he fluttered his eyelids to find himself blindfolded. Instinctively, he tried to raise a hand to see what was covering his eyes-and as he did, Marc felt a rush of panic surge through his body as he found he could not move his hands!
"Doctor Martaugh?" he questioned.
"Just relax, Marc… you said you trusted me… there's nothing to fear."
"But… but my hands-I can't move them," he told her weakly.
"I know, Marc-they're bound loosely at your sides. I'll release them if it becomes uncomfortable… or if you feel you really can't trust me."
Marc felt suddenly helpless as he struggled ineffectually against the strong bonds that held his wrists, and the fact that he couldn't see made him even more fearful of the situation. As he lay there trying to calm himself; Marc was at one with his victims-he had never once considered what it might be like to find yourself totally helpless at the hands of some other human being. Now he knew, and the feeling was just slightly short of terrifying for him. He tried to rationalize that no harm would befall him while he lay there on the comfortable couch, safe, with Dr. Murtaugh by his side, but his confidence was suddenly overcome by fear as he heard the woman's voice again-soft, soothing, but frightening in some strange way.
"Marc… you must overcome your fear of trusting some one other than yourself… Right now, you're helpless, and in a sense, at my mercy… Do you realize that I could do anything to you I might desire? Interesting thought, isn't it?" He felt her move close to him as she sat by his side "Completely at my mercy… anything I might want to do… are you frightened'?"
Marc shook his head and replied thickly, "N… no, I'm not."
Andrea glanced toward the man's crotch and smiled as she saw no bulge there; then she asked, "Are you sure? You don't sound as though you believe yourself."
He laughed nervously, "What the hell have I got to be afraid of? You're my psychoanalyst… I have nothing to fear from you."
"Good… good, Marc," she purred, and placed her palm flat on his chest. She glanced over her shoulder as Felicia entered the room, a look of apprehension on her young face. She saw Andrea nod to her and she closed the door softly and crossed the room. Rubbing in small circles, Andrea began touching the nipples of Marc's breasts through the thin material of his shirt. She felt them stiffen slightly and she told him, "I want you to concentrate for a moment, Marc… think back to the incident of your mother and those two-niggers… And as she spoke, she felt Marc tense slightly, and she began unbuttoning his shirt.
Marc heard the words and he shuddered as she mentioned his mother and… and the two men who had raped her that long-ago day. The day he fucked his own mother!
"Remember how it was… the two niggers fucking her and making her suck them? She was tied up, too, Marc and blindfolded-she really couldn't help what was happening to her-no more than you could help it if I were to force you against your will… she was helpless, Marc… just as you are."
"But why did she like it?" he blurted out without thinking.
The analyst smiled and glanced at the gorgeous Felicia as she stepped out of her skirt and stood gloriously naked on the other side of the couch. "Can you really wonder at that, Marc?" she asked softly, as she pulled out his shirt tails and reached for the buckle of his belt. "I'd think that would be obvious to you. After all, she was a healthy woman-you told me your father had been gone for several years at the time. The Riggers did things to her that under normal circumstances she would have been repulsed by, but she was bound and helpless and she couldn't control her emotions-or her passions. Once they had begun fucking her, it was natural for her to accept it and enjoy it."
"But… but she enjoyed it with me, too," he said quietly, as he felt his belt freed and the zipper of his pants drawn down.
"Of course she did," the woman replied. "Many mothers have fantasies about having sex with their own sons… there's nothing unusual about that. Can you remember what it was like, Marc-to stick your stiff young prick into your mother's juicy cunt-to fuck her and shoot your come in her pussy… Can you remember that?" She paused momentarily, then added, "And recall what it was like when she was pressed, between those two black bodies and the niggers were fucking her in the cunt and the ass-hole… recall what it felt like when you shoved your prick into her mouth and she sucked you until you shot all over her face… Remember what that was like?"
"G… good… so good, it was so fucking good!" he moaned, as his prick throbbed painfully inside his shorts. He gasped then as he felt hands at either hip, and suddenly his trousers were pulled to his feet and he realized he was lying there nearly naked!
Andrea and Felicia stood there gazing down at the man lying bound and helpless before them. Andrea licked her lips and reached across the couch to cup Felicia's full breast. She felt the girl's nipple stiffen at her warm touch and she squeezed her gently as she said to Marc, "Yes, Marc… it was good… remember how good it was… "
And Marc did-in his mind he visualized his mother lying naked on the floor, her legs spread lewdly and her wet cunt shining before him. And as he plunged his young prick into her soft cunt, he had sobbed: I'm sorry-they made me… they made me! And as he had fucked-her, her body had begun to respond as he thrust into her deeply, and she had cried out to him: Yes… yesssss… do it, baby… do it to your mommy… fuck me… Oh, God, Marc! Fuck me! And as he experienced the same emotions again, Marc writhed on the couch, his prick twitching and standing out stiffly from his hairy loins. Then he recalled seeing his mother sandwiched between the two sweating black men as they shoved their pricks into her cunt and ass-hole at the same time. And as though in a dream he moved closer and closer to his mother until she opened her mouth and allowed his throbbing prick to enter its soft, loving warmth.
Felicia knelt beside the couch and leaned over to close her mouth around the head of Marc's twitching prick. As she did, he gave a violent start and her honey-colored hair tumbled across his naked stomach. Above her, Andrea shook her short dark hair free from the confining scarf she had worn, then she stepped out of her skirt and laid it aside. Felicia raised her eyes without moving her mouth on Marc's prick, and saw Andrea standing there in only panties and silk hose. She watched as the smaller woman pulled down her briefs and stepped out of them, leaving her hose on without benefit of a garter belt.
Marc was surprised and a bit shocked when he felt something warm close around the bead of his prick, and it took a long moment for him to realize what it was. But then his confusion increased as he felt a woman's hair trailing over his naked belly-he knew that Dr. Murtaugh had short hair! Then, with the warm mouth still damped wetly about his cock-not moving, just holding-he heard his analyst's voice near his ear.
"Does that feel good, Marc? Is it as good as your mother's mouth on your prick?" He felt her breath on his shoulder and her hand on his breast, teasing his nipple to hardness. "Can you resist the mouth on your prick any more than your mother could resist sucking her own son's prick while she was getting fucked by those two niggers?" And Marc shivered again as she used the obscene and degrading term for Negroes. "Can you, Marc? Can you resist?"
"Ummmmmmm… no," he moaned, and tried to thrust upwards with his hips. But he could not achieve more entry into the mouth than he already had… for the person's ups were clamped tightly about his prick.
"Of Course you can't," Andrea told him and leaned forward to lick his stiff right nipple. A light chill went through his body as he felt her tongue touch his burning flesh. "No one could… there is no blame for your mother, Marc… she only responded as any human being would have under the circumstances… the fact that she was your mother is the only reason you feel guilt for what happened… and think about it. What if you had happened upon a neighbor woman-not your mother-and seen the same thing happening to her… and had sex with her too. What then, would you have felt guilty about that?"
"Nooo…" he moaned, and tried again to thrust his prick deeper into the mouth that held him tightly.
"Good…" Andrea continued. "I want you to relax now-you're fifteen years old again, Marc, and you've been tied up in your own living room by two burglars… they've gone and left you tied up and blindfolded… now you hear the front door open… you know it's your mother and you call out to her… but seeing you lying there helpless as you are, she does not call back. Instead, she crosses the room and kneels by your side-you know it's her, but rather than let you know it is, she plays a little game and whispers gruffly, 'Do as you're told and you won't be hurt!" and then she unbuttons your pants. You wonder why she wants you to think she is someone else-and then you know as you feel her soft, warm lips encircle your throbbing prick, and she sucks you all the way into her wet throat!"
And as the fantasy took place in his mind, Marc felt the mouth on his prick slide downward and swallow him all the way to the base of his thick prick. He wondered again if he was dreaming-the doctor was talking to him, but who was sucking his prick?
"It's your mother, Marc… she's sucking your hot young prick just as she's always wanted to do-she wants to feel you come in her mouth-wants to taste your semen as it spurts out of the head of jour beautiful young prick… she's loving you, Marc, in the way only a mother can love a son… and you're loving it too!"
"Ohhhhnnn, huh… loving it…" he groaned, as the wet mouth sucked him deeply and Felicia swirled her tongue around the head of his prick.
"Tell her, Marc… tell your mother what you love-tell her what you want and what you want to do to her!" The analyst urged him on as she leaned over him and rubbed the nipples of her tits against the hot flesh of his belly.
"Yes… yes, momma… suck my prick. Let me come in your mouth… Oh, God, that's so good, Momma! So good… suck me, let me feel your tongue… Uhhhhnn… God, I want to suck you too! I want to eat your pussy, Momma… I've never been able to tell you that… please, let me suck your pussy! I'm not mad at you anymore… I don't care what those… those niggers did to you… I don't care!"
Andrea smiled and rose up as Felicia's head bobbed slowly up and down on the man's throbbing prick. She climbed across his body and positioned herself over his mouth. The moment he felt her thighs near his face, he tried to rise and licked out with his tongue. As he touched her pubic mat, Andrea shivered and slipped her hands behind his head, then lowered her cunt to his waiting mouth. "Ohhhh… yes yes, Marc, suck my pussy! Suck your momma's pussy, baby… God, yes!" she wailed.
Felicia pulled off his cock and began licking just the head of it as the man began sucking Andrea's cunt. Felicia glanced to her right and saw Marc's chin protruding from beneath Andrea's ample ass cheeks, and she saw the puckered ass-hole as the woman strained forward to mash her pussy against his mouth. Lifting his heavy balls, Felicia lowered her head and let his prick rub against her cheek and silken hair as she licked his balls and fondled them lovingly. She opened her mouth wide and forced one of the egg-shaped organs past her lips and teeth; then she tongued it strongly as she felt raise his hips in an effort to assist her. Washing it heavily with her tongue, the girl let it pop out of her mouth, and she raised her head again to lick the length of his shaft like an ice-cream cone, paying close attention to the underside of his prick head where it evoked a loud response from him, muffled by Andrea's cunt.
"Ummmfff… yethhhh… su… su… ma ails… "
She licked him up and down the length of his throbbing prick and sucked the head in to touch the slitted glans with just the tip of her tongue. She tasted the faintly acrid fluid that oozed from the glans and swallowed as his prick pulsed in her mouth. Rising up then, Felicia sat astraddle the man and guided his prick into her warm nest. As it-sank in deeply, she lowered herself down until all her weight was resting on his prick. Without-moving her I body, she began flexing the strong sphincter muscles in her pussy, and a milking sensation resulted that had Marc thrusting his hips upward. Felicia leaned forward and slipped her arms beneath Andrea's to cup her firm fits warmly.
Marc felt the mouth leave his throbbing prick and he longed to take hold of the person's head and force his prick back into that warm, sucking place. Whoever the woman was, she did know how to suck a cock, he thought, as he licked out to find Andrea's clit with his tongue. The woman above him ground her wet pussy against his sucking mouth and held his head with both hands. Marc opened his mouth and sucked in her pussy lips as she thrust her hips forward again and again. Then Marc felt the other woman climb across his body and take hold of his prick. As it slid into her wet cunt, he gasped at the tightness. She lowered herself down to test her weight on his loins.
"God… it's in me," Felicia gasped as she pulled Andrea back towards her and massaged her breasts. Andrea submitted to the girl's warm hands as they closed about her tits, and she squirmed wildly as Marc's tongue sent rush after rush of hot sensation through her body.
"Mmmminnnn… yes, Marc… suck my pussy… eat my cunt… lick it… make me come!" Andrea moaned lowly as she felt Felicia begin grinding her body in tight circles above Marc's thrusting prick.
The receptionist lifted her body up until just the head of Marc's prick remained inside her pussy, then she dropped her weight suddenly and a rush of sensation flooded her loins. She moved her ass in a circular motion then and felt Marc lifting his body to hers in an attempt to penetrate her cunt even deeper. She was astounded at his control, and the more she fucked up and down on his hot prick the more she wanted of it. She leaned forward and twisted Andrea's head around and crushed her mouth against the other woman's. Andrea sucked the tongue greedily as the girl behind her rolled the nipples of her fits under her palms and pinched them lightly.
"Oh, God, Felicia moaned, "comming… I'm coming… Jesus, I didn't think I'd… Oh… Oh… Ohhh-hhh… Ughhhhnnnn!" And her body stiffened atop Marc's prick as she moved her hips wildly and ground her cunt against his upraised loins. Marc felt the girl spasm and he knew he could not hold off much longer himself as her body jerked and stiffened while an animal-like sound poured from her mouth He felt his prick twitch inside her velvet tunnel as the muscles of her pussy seemed to milk him, and, at the same time, flood his prick and balls with her juices.
Andrea twisted off Marc's face as she felt Felicia clutch her tits painfully-she knew the girl was in the throes of orgasm and she wanted to finish her off. Shoving the girl to her back, Andrea saw Marc's prick jerk from her spasming cunt. She lowered her head quickly and thrust her tongue into Felicia's sopping pussy. She grabbed the girl's legs and threw them over her shoulders as Felicia bent backwards, hanging half off the couch across Marc's body. Tonguing her wildly and holding tight to her smooth thighs, Andrea stayed with the girl until the final wave of passion had come and ebbed and the girl lay panting and exhausted.
Marc felt his prick jerked rudely from the clasping cunt, and then the girl's body lay across his waist as loud sucking sounds came to him and her moans diminished. He realized what had happened-the girl oh his prick had been at the height of her climax and that fucking Murtaugh had climbed off his mouth to suck her pussy! Fucking dyke! he thought angrily, and moved his body against the one still lying atop him. His prick was trapped between his own belly and her back and, though he had held off, he was very near shooting his load all over the girl's naked back. Then he felt the weight decrease and the girl was helped to her feet-he listened closely and sensed that Murtaugh and the other girl were kissing, but he couldn't be sure. And it was then that Marc realized who the other woman was-it was Murtaugh's receptionist, Felicia! Why he hadn't realized it before was beyond him-he had been so caught up in the fantasy of his mother sucking his prick and then his eating her pussy, it never occurred to him to question who it was that was doing the fantastic sucking while Murtaugh spoke to him, then forced him to eat her pussy… forced him, and again, the realization that he was totally at the mercy of these two women-how ironic, how terribly ironic!
Pulling the oddly shaped stool close to the couch, Andrea sat and spread her legs wide. Without question, Felicia dropped to her knees and buried her face in the analyst's pussy. The stool was shaped so that a woman could sit comfortably with her legs spread and another person would have ample room to place his head between the woman's legs without the edge of the stool interfering. Andrea leaned back comfortably as Felicia took long, wet licks at her wide-spread pussy lips. She ran her hand over Marc's hairy thigh and licked her lips as her hand closed about his still-throbbing prick.
"Do you still blame your mother for responding to the two men, Marc?" she asked softly as she fondled his prick.
"No… no," he said thickly, "I can't blame her…"
"And you understand how a person can do things without having to feel guilt for what they have done?"
"Yes… yes, I do," he replied, and wished she'd stop talking and would do something about his prick, other than just squeezing it.
"Fine" she said huskily, then went on, "because right now I'm sitting beside you and, as I speak, I'm getting my pussy sucked… and it's heavenly, Marc… her mouth is soft and warm and her tongue is driving me wild… can you envision it, Marc? Her head is between my legs and she's rubbing my legs as her tongue licks out… and while she's doing this, I'm playing with your prick… your beautiful stiff prick… can you visualize it, Marc… can you?"
In his mind's eye. Marc saw the lovely Felicia, her long hair thrown back over her naked shoulders and her head buried between the analyst's creamy thighs. sucking, licking and fucking her tongue in and out of the woman's pussy. "Yes… God, yes!" he moaned, as her hand tightened on his prick. He felt her increase the movement on his cock, and, as she began an up-and-down motion, he knew he was only a breath away from shooting his come all over the place, and he cried out, "God, help me… I'm comming… do something for me… suck me, fuck me… stick it in… anything!" And he thrust his hips upward as Andrea increased the stroke again. "Please," he begged.
Smiling, Andrea leaned over and took the head of his prick into her mouth as the first spurt of hot come gushed forth. It hit the roof of her mouth and slid down her throat as the second contraction came, and she swallowed greedily as he pumped his load of come down her throat. As she tasted his salty come Andrea raised her hips slightly and Felicia ran her hands beneath her to cup her ass cheeks. Andrea felt herself rising and, as Marc's prick continued to gush its sticky load of hot conic into her mouth, she cried out from around his prick as she, too, achieved her orgasm. She lifted her legs high and locked them about Felicia's shoulders and shuddered strongly as the wave broke over her tortured body. She quivered as the rush of sensation went through her, and Felicia licked her clit rapidly. Finally, it had passed for them both. Marc's prick slid limply from Andrea's wet, mouth and left a. thin trail of white come across her lips. The woman licked her lips, then the sensitive head of his prick, as Felicia raised her wet face from between the analyst's thighs. They both sighed deeply and, without speaking, walked to the small bathroom where the sounds of water running, then the toilet flushing, came to Marc, who was still bound to the couch.
When they had dressed, the two women rearranged Marc's clothing and Felicia left the inner office. Marc felt his wrists released; then the blindfold was removed from his eyes. He blinked-the office was in near darkness, but he could see the dim outline of Dr. Murtaugh as she sat near the couch, a cigarette glowing dimly in the darkness. He didn't know what to say, much less what to do-so he simply lay there quietly and waited.
Finally, Dr. Murtaugh spoke. "If you'd like, Marc I can arrange your Monday appointment at this time every week… "
He thought about it for a moment, then replied, "Whatever suits your schedule, Doctor."
She laughed lightly, "Come now, Marc… I think you can call me Andrea… after all, we made quite a breakthrough with you this evening-don't you agree?"
Marc was not only confused, he was just a little angry-he was paying for an analyst, and what had he gotten? A prostitute? He sat up on the couch, tempted to reach out and slap the woman. But as the urge passed he thought of another way to pay her back. "Yes, I suppose you might say we have," he replied finally.
"Good," she said, and reached out to touch his hand. "Then I'll see you the same time next week all right?"
He stood without speaking and found his tie and jacket He stumbled out of the office without looking at Felicia and he took great gulps of air once he was outside the building. Driving straight to the nearest bar. Marc ordered a double scotch and sat there in the semi-darkness, recalling the events of the evening. And as he did he realized that for the first time since that fateful day when he had discovered his mother being raped by the two black men, he harbored no ill feelings toward her-lie had always had the confused notion that accompanies an act one knows is wrong, yet goes through with due to desire… just like the things he did to other women. What he was doing and what happened to his own mother were no different. And he had never failed to evoke a response from one of his victims-they all enjoyed the things he did to them, just as he had enjoyed the things that Dr. Murtaugh and her receptionist had done to him that very evening. "My God!" he mumbled aloud, and the bartender looked his way. He drained his glass, tossed a bill on the bar and found his way into the night again. He looked up at the stars and took a deep breath-he had no cause to feel guilty! Not because of having sex with his mother, and certainly not because he enjoyed it. And the things he did… the evil, perverted ways in which he sought gratification-were they wrong? He questioned himself now, for there was still a certain confusion surrounding his acts. If they were wrong, why then did the women always seem to enjoy the things he forced them to do? And why, if it was so wrong, did the majority of them beg him to come again?
Marc climbed into-his car and smiled up at the sky as he realized the only thing he was doing wrong was feeling guilty. That was it, nothing more-just guilt! "What the fuck do I have to feel guilty about?" he asked himself, as he twisted the key in the ignition. "Not a thing! Not a goddamned thing!" he nearly shouted as he slipped the clutch and spun the tires of the powerful little Porsche.
Parking a block away from the Towne residence, Marc made his way to the back of the house. It was dark and evidently the family had gone out for the evening. Quickly, he retrieved the small tape recorder and replaced the tape he had put in several days before. He slipped it into his pocket and was about to move away from the back of the house when he heard a muffled sound coming from one of the windows to his right. Cautiously, Marc moved through the darkness and positioned himself next to the window and listened. At first, he was unable to define the sound; then a soft voice whispered, "Oh… please, Donny, don't… please don't!"
Marc shivered as the sound of Towne's daughter's voice came to him through the open window of the bedroom; he had very nearly entered the house when he decided to replace the tape in the recorder-and that could have presented a problem. As he considered it, another voice came to him "Come on, Cindy… it won't hurt… I promise… just let me put the head of it in… please!"
"Donny," she whined, "please don't ask I'll suck you off… you like that… and you can come in my mouth-I won't mind."
"Shit!" the boy exclaimed, and Marc smiled inwardly at his frustration. "I oughtta just rape you-sometimes you act like a fucking prick teaser!!"
"Donny!" she exclaimed loudly. "Don't you talk to me like that!"
"I… I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's just that you don't understand what it does to a guy… Jesus, Cindy-I want you so bad!" And they fell silent as the sounds of heavy petting came to Marc outside the window.
He moved away from the window and made his way back to his car in the next block. The drive home took him but a half hour and as he settled back with a glass of brandy and his notebook, he was gratified to find that Peter Towne planned to be out of town that coming weekend. He was to leave on Saturday morning and his return reservation had been made for Sunday evening. That would give Marc all day Saturday-if he chose to enter the house then-or just the one night and all day Sunday. He'd have to check the other tape before he came to a decision, for if either Mrs. Towne or her stepdaughter Cindy had any plans; he would just have to wait until Saturday evening to take them.
Marc closed his notebook with a slap and realized suddenly that he had eaten nothing. He was ravenously hungry and the day's events had proven to be more enlightening than he had realized when he stormed out of Murtaugh's office.
As he prepared himself a light meal and sipped a glass of dry white wine, Marc thought about Dr. Andrea Murtaugh-and he wondered what her reaction would be to a subtle case of rape… her own.