Lynn and Bobby Ch. 01

"Baby, you've told me about seeing that dick in your head and wanting it. You've told me that.""

"Laying in bed and playin' with my pussy and wantin' it? I didn't tell you that. Anyway, then I go to sleep and sometimes I have this dream. I dream that I wake up and Bill is lying there in bed beside me with a hard on sticking straight up in the air. You are asleep on the other side of me. I don't know how he got in our bed. He's just there. I reach over and grab his dick and it's rock hard like it always was. I want it. He just lies there - you know -- like in the hot tub when he was teasing me.

"Well, baby, your fetish is still getting to you. That's not new. We still have to help you manage your fetish. You've learned what it does to you. You hate Bill now for what he did to you."

"There's more! Lying there with his dick in my hand, I get these thoughts. I still hate him. But I think maybe you wouldn't wake up and I could fuck him just one more time. And in my dream I'm thinking, if you do wake up you'll be really hurt at seeing me fuck him again, so maybe I shouldn't. But I really want to. Then I think about how much I hate him. I really hate him! But my pussy is wet and ready and I want to crawl on top and fuck him! I hate that bastard but I want to fuck him! And I finally decide to try to do it. His cock feels so good in my hand and I want it inside of me so much that finally I throw my leg over him and try to crawl on top and he just disappears and I wake up laying there on my stomach."

"He's gone and I lie there and cry and think about you loving me. I lie there and wonder what you'd think if you woke up and I really was fucking Bill in our bed - after all you've done for me. You'd think I was still his slut! Well, I still am his slut!"

"You're not his slut, baby. You still have a fetish."

"Not his slut? Four hours ago I was laying in bed, playing with my pussy, and I rolled over and tried to fuck that son-of-a-bitch! And you say I'm not his slut."

"You had a dream. It was your fetish. Together, we're going to help you learn how to beat it. You've already come a long way. You understand what it does to your head. You get mad at what it makes you want to do. When you dream you don't understand it, but when you're awake you do. We're going to beat it."

"Yeah, we'll beat it, if I can quit playin' with my damn pussy like some horny high school girl."

******

One Sunday morning after breakfast she sat lost in thought and finally broke the silence. "Other people with the fetish have learned to control themselves. Where is that redheaded girl now? How did she handle it when he dumped her? "

"First of all she wasn't a girl. She was over thirty-five years old. She was married to an executive and had two kids in high school. I didn't know that at the time, but Bill thought it was funny when he told me later."

"Oh my God! A mature married woman, fucking college kids?"

"Yep. Back then he said, 'Old enough to be our Mama, and fucks like a mink!' I still remember that derisive laughter. He had total contempt for her."

"The bastard! The lousy bastard! But he thought about me the same way."

"Bill always thought it was funny, making her strip down buck naked for a bunch of college kids -- dance for 'em, shake her tits for 'em, and fuck 'em. I always tried to fuck her before the other guys came in and got her pussy all lathered up. Her reward? He fucked her last -- and gave her those incredible orgasms she craved."

"You'll hate me for saying this Bobby, but I understand what she did. She did it for the orgasms that she couldn't have any other way. It was that big cock she needed. Her only way to have an orgasm. I fucked him for the same reason - for the orgasms he gave me. I'd probably still be fuckin' that bastard if he wanted me to, no matter what he made me do. I'm that crazy! It's ugly. I love you. But that dick is still in my head.

"He dumped her near the end of the semester. She showed up several times in tears and offered to do anything he wanted. What he made her do was a six-guy gang-bang with music and beer. He'd made her fuck two or three before, but never six. They were standing in line, drinking beer. It was humiliating. He likes to humiliate people. You saw him humiliate us. She came to me for help."

Lynn shook her head back and forth. "She came to you? Oh shit! And I'll bet you fucked her. Nineteen years old and horny as a mountain goat. You fucked a woman twice your age and promised to help her get Bill back. Jesus! What easy pussy. She wudda been just easy meat when he dumped her! I know! I wudda been spreadin' my legs too, lookin' for another big one, if I hadn't had a rock hard man to hang on to."

"Well, yes, I fucked her."

"God! All men are bastards! All they think about is pussy."

"But, making her gang bang his buddies. That's really ugly. That's sick! My God! Just think about that. How could he make her do that?"

"He just told her he'd leave her if she didn't. It was the only way she could keep him fucking her. When he had a gal with the fetish and he was about to dump her, she would get so desperate to keep him that she would do anything. Anything he told her to do, no matter how degrading. What he did to you was horrible.

"Oh my God. Would I have fucked those guys do you think?"

"The redhead did it. Six guys, eighteen maybe nineteen years old, all with their dicks out, drinking beer, standing in line to fuck this thirty five year old lady, and laughin' at her laying there on the rug naked with her legs spread, and fuckin' 'em one after another."

"My God! You saw that? You were standing in line?"

"I wasn't standing in line. I was sitting there watching. I'd already fucked her before the guys came in. They had their dicks out strokin' 'em in one hand and a can of beer in the other. When their turn came they just set the beer of the floor, dropped their pants, and fucked her, and sometimes got back in line. They fucked her for over an hour until Bill asked, 'Any more seconds?' Then he laughed and said, 'Any thirds?' and everybody laughed and said they were finished with her. Then Bill fucked her and she had her orgasm."

"Oh my God! That's disgusting!"

"She did it though and you'd have done it too. You were as far gone as she was. You were desperate to keep him. I was almost out of my mind begging him. Then he told me he would have had you gang banging already if you were at his place. He said he liked to watch a used-up cunt gang bang, then beg him to fuck her. But it turned him on even more to see a proud man tremble and beg."

"A used-up cunt. Yeah, that's exactly what I was. And, that used-up cunt would have been at his place, gang-banging, if it hadn't been for you. If you hadn't been man enough to take it, sit there and take it, to keep me at home. Oh my God. Six guys, one after another, some of them twice, all of them laughing at me. And me, naked, with my legs spread -- just layin' there, fuckin' 'em, one after another. With music and beer. It makes me sick. Bobby, when I saw that damn cock in my head it always turned me on. It still turns me on. Could he really have made me fuck his buddies? Could he really have made me do that?"

"Lynn, baby, my lovely baby. I love you so much. You and I need to learn more about your head. It may still be in there. Have a fantasy for me, and we'll find out. Close your eyes. Clear your mind and pretend. Just listen to my words and imagine what I say is real." She nodded and closed her eyes. I spoke slowly, softly.

"Picture Bill in your mind -- a nice sport coat and tie. You and I are sitting right here. Just relax, concentrate, and see him in your mind. He walks in, smiling and happy. Believe it is happening this very minute. He looks just like you remember him. You can even smell his after-shave. You're suddenly happy. You thought he would never come back. Then he says, 'I'm sorry I treated you that way, baby -- I was wrong. Can you forgive me?' Your hurt and anger melt away. You look up at his face and you see that he means every word he is saying. All of those old emotions flood back into your body. Ecstasy!"

"Now Lynn, just sit there a moment and imagine what you feel. Feel it."

We sat quietly for a full minute. Then I said, "He has a friend with him and he tells you that his friend helped him understand what a fool he was to leave you. Then he says 'His wife left him last month and he's lonely. He's horny. We're going in the bedroom. Can you take care of him for me? Then I'll take care of you, just like old times.' They head toward the bedroom and he's taking off his coat. Now, keep your eyes closed. It's real. He's returned. It is not a dream. It's him. He's in the bedroom right this minute, waiting. I'm going to stop talking now. Imagine it. Believe it."

She sat silently for over minute. Eyes closed, in a dream-like state. She started to breath more heavily and her body became agitated. Suddenly she opened her eyes, slammed her fist against the arm of the chair.

"God dammit! He's still here! God dammit, the bastard's still in my head!"

"You want to tell me what you thought?"

She started to cry. " You know exactly what I thought. It's no better. It's just as bad as it was! It's no better. I'm still his crazy slut!"

"No, it is better. First, you had to work to see it. Second, what you saw made you mad. You got mad at what your fetish was telling you to do. You're better. What was your fetish telling you to do?"

She was sobbing now. "You knew before you started what I'd do. Dammit. I was gonna fuck some guy whose name I didn't even know, bring him off as fast as I could, so I could get to that big rock hard cock. That's what I was gonna do!"

"Fuck both of them with me sitting right here?"

"Bobby, I never thought about you once. Not one second. I was gonna fuck some guy, to get to that big cock in the bedroom. I didn't think about you at all, after everything you've done for me. I just saw that cock."

"You're making progress. It's just like alcohol. You will always need it to some degree, but you can learn to control it. Like the alcoholic controls it. When he looks at a bottle, he doesn't see the whisky - he sees a destroyed marriage and it makes him sick. That's how he controls it. You can control it the same way. And keep it from controlling you."

"Control it hell. You just watched me. I saw that big, beautiful, rock hard cock, just throbbing in my head, and I wanted to feel it in me again and I was ready to fuck his buddy to get it! Hell, that bastard could have had me gang banging just like that redhead. Six guys fuckin' me and laughin' at me and music and beer. Oh baby, what you must think of me. After all the pain I've caused you. You just saw me! I still want to fuck that bastard. I saw that cock in my head and I wanted it deep inside of me - right down here!" And she grabbed her belly and bent over crying.

"Help me! For God's sake help me!" She was starting to break down.

"How do I turn it off? Please Bobby, please make it go away."

I had to help her. She needed to see something besides that cock. Maybe seeing the ugly truth about me would do it. I'd been thinking about telling her for several weeks now. If she could see in her head a picture of what she did to me instead of a picture of his cock, then maybe she could control it. But then what? I sat there dreading it. What happens to us. Will I lose her when she starts to think about me that way? And if it works she'll keep thinking about me exactly that way every time her fetish pops up.

But, if I'm going to tell her, maybe now's the time to ... my mind flashed back to Lynn and Bill fucking by the hot tub ... she started to groan ... "My-God!" "I'm gonna come. I'm-gonna-come!" "Oh-my-God! Please! Harder!

Get control of yourself dammit! She's begging you for help.

I looked across the room at her, looking at me, her eyes pleading for help. Okay, do it. Do it! She needs it and she needs it now. Hit her with it! It'll hurt her bad, but she needs it. She needs to know what to see. Maybe that's the only picture that'll do it.

She was sobbing. "Please Bobby, help me. Make it go away, please."

"I'll tell you how you can turn it off, baby. I'll tell you what to see." I said.

"Turn it off! It won't go away! Help me turn it off. Make that cock go away Bobby, please! Please! Oh God, Bobby, please. Please help me."

"Darling, everything's all right. Don't cry. Don't worry, I'll make it go away."

I hoped she would hear the love in my voice. I wanted her to understand it, to believe it, to feel it, and to remember it. To see a picture of it in her head. Remember it just as I did, no matter what it did to us. It was hard to talk, because the ballet in my head was loud now.

I had to make her think about the alcoholic looking at the bottle and not seeing whisky. I had to make her see something else. Make her see something ugly enough that she will remember -- something to see it instead of that damn cock. I said a silent prayer.

"Darling, turn it off by thinking about me. Remember the truth about me."

"What do you mean the truth? What truth? What are you talking about?"

I paused, dreading saying it. The sounds in my head were getting louder.

I had to say it now or I never would. Then, I said it slowly, clearly, honestly.

"You castrated me the first time I watched you fuck Bill. I have not had a functional erection since that first night a year ago. And you laughed at me when I tried."

The grunting vanished from my head and another image was burned into my brain as I got up and walked out to the car. Her face -- shocked, eyes opened wide, mouth opened speechless, frozen just as if she had felt a dagger plunged into her belly, but had not yet felt the pain she knew would come. Now she needed time to think. I hoped she would understand the truth. I hoped the truth about me would replace her fantasy vision. I hoped that, like the alcoholic seeing a destroyed marriage instead of whisky, she would see what she had done to me instead of her fetish. But, I was deathly afraid of what her new vision of me meant for us in the future.

******

Sunday traffic was light. The office was empty. I buried myself is a stack of stuff labeled "DO ME NOW" and lost consciousness in meaningless detail. The phone rang again and again and I ignored it, grateful that I had turned off my cell. Hours passed. It was late afternoon when I gave up and headed to that restaurant where Bill had first told me of Lynn's fetish a year ago. The crowd was light. The same booth was free. I ordered a drink and a light salad. Then I ordered another drink, thinking that, if only I were an alcoholic, I could bury this ugly reality easily and quickly. Finally, I went home.

She was sitting in the same chair. Her eyes were red with tears. Her make-up a mess. She had been crying for hours. The house was dark and I turned on some lights and sat down. Neither of us spoke until I got up and mixed myself a drink.

She said "Me too. A strong one."

We sat there without talking for a while. Finally, she looked across the room at me and spoke two words.

"I'm cured."

"I hoped you would be." Then she spoke again.

"I laughed at you."

"Darling, baby, you couldn't help it."

"Couldn't help it?" She almost screamed, "Couldn't help it? Bitch! Fantasizing Bitch! Self-centered bitch! Thoughtless bitch! Selfish bitch! Whoring bitch! Uncaring bitch! There's a hell of a lot of ways to describe me baby, and they all end in bitch."

Then she started to cry. "It hurts. God how it hurts. You can't know how it hurts. I would do anything to take it back. Not just the laughter. To take it all back. Take back all of that thoughtless, selfish, uncaring, fantasizing, self-centered whoring. I'll do anything! Anything, anything I can possibly do to make you well again."

"Darling, I know that. I know you love me. I know you're sorry. But you just can't change what happened. It did happen. It changed us. It changed me."

"You understand so much about me." she said looking at me helplessly. "You've loved me and helped me. You stayed with me when any other guy -- any other guy in the world - would have just walked away. I look at you now, sitting across the room from me, and you're strong. You're a man. God how strong you are. How the fuck could I have laughed at you! Stupid, fantasizing bitch! You were like a rock for me to hang on to when I was sick."

"I'm cured. I swear to God I'm cured. I can't think about that big dick any more without thinking about castrating you. And I did it! I castrated you! I castrated the man I loved! And I laughed about it! I castrated you and it makes me sick to my stomach -- I want to throw up. Fantasizing Bitch! How the hell could just thinking about a big dick do that to me? It makes me sick. I'm cured. I swear it. Please help me understand why it's so impossible now. Why there's nothing I can do?"

"Darling, it's not you. I think you really are cured. I really believe you're cured. Like the alcoholic can be cured. You have beat that fetish now. It doesn't control you anymore. You control it. There's nothing more you need to do, now. It's not you, it's me."

"You? It can't be you! You're the strong one here. You're the one who knows what to do. You're the man who saved me. I look at you now and I see a man with strength - rock-hard strength! It was you that beat that damn fetish - not me. You won. What do you mean it's your fault? It can't be your fault. What's going on here? Tell me. Just tell me what's going on. I'm so fucking helpless!

"Darling," I paused feeling helpless myself, "please listen to me. Try to understand." I tried to speak slowly and carefully. "Unless you're an animal, sex is about more than just feeling pleasure for yourself. It's about giving pleasure to the one you love." She looked at me and nodded her head, listening carefully, and understanding. I continued, "I love you. But, I can't give you that pleasure, and, you know why. You know why it's impossible for me to give you the pleasure that a husband should give to his wife."

It was if I had physically struck her. Lynn looked shocked, slumped in her chair, and shook her head slowly back and forth in a hopeless gesture, sobbing. She thought about what I had said for several minutes shaking her head back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then her face slowly changed. She looked up at me. She stopped crying and wiped the tears away, pawing at her eyes with her fists. She began to look angry. When she spoke she was like the Lynn I once knew when she got really mad. She looked straight at me. She spoke almost defiantly.

"You're telling me you can't make me come. Right? You don't have Bill's dick so you can't make me come. Right? You're telling me I laughed at your dick when you tried to screw me and it fucked up your mind. Right? You're using fancy language, but that's what you telling me. Right?"

"Well, yes, I guess that's what I'm telling you. It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Oh yes. Oh yes, it's the truth all right. And, it's a very, very ugly truth. You do not have Bill's dick. And, your mind really is all fucked up. And I'm the one who fucked it up! And not just by laughing at your dick! So now, I want you to tell me something else. Tell me there's no point in you loving me, or me loving you -- no, no, me worshipping you -- if we can't walk into that bedroom this very minute and fuck! Then tell me you're sure there's no way we can ever learn to fuck each other again. Tell me that!"

"I can't tell you that."

"Look Bobby, Bill's history. My fetish is history. I can't think about a big dick anymore without thinking about castrating you and getting physically sick. I know. I tried it this afternoon, when I thought you might finally have decided to leave me. That's when I realized that no one in this world would have blamed you if you had just walked out! A year ago. Six months ago. An hour ago. I thought how screwed up I was when that bastard dumped my ass -- really screwed up! Shit! Without you beside me, hard as a rock for me to hold on to, I wudda been easy meat -- just easy meat -- spreadin' my legs for every horny stud in town, lookin' for another big dick. By now I wudda been the town whore. Just a dirty joke to our friends who wudda been driving by to see whose car was parked in the driveway, who was getting another piece of that public pussy. I can hear them laughing at me now! Making dirty jokes about me. You saved me from that. No other man would have been strong enough, rock hard enough, loving enough to walk through hell for me. No other man in this world."