Thanks for the Memories

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A woman remembers her sexual exploits.
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Prologue

Julia was happy with her life. It wasn't a great life by any means, but she always told herself that she could be a lot worse off. She had a reasonably well paid job and was regarded with respect at the office. Being single meant that she wasn't tied down and could devote the necessary hours to her work.

She did feel a little lonely at times, but she tried to keep herself occupied and not think about it too much. When she did think, she had to admit that she missed not having a partner. Two romances in her early twenties had lasted a while, but both relationships had eventually broken down. Julia was probably to blame for this; she wanted to retain her independence. Occasionally she would even confess to herself that she was merely using them for sex.

Most of the time Julia, was able to keep her libido in check. From time to time she would masturbate, but although she reached her climax it never seemed particularly fulfilling – even when she used a vibrator. In fact, she preferred to use her fingers rather than the impersonal plastic toy.

*****

Chapter 1

Something began happening to Julia a couple of years ago. At first she tried to put it out of her mind, but in the end she couldn't ignore it. Julia couldn't tell anybody, because there was nothing to tell.

She had been going through a period of frustration, both work-based and sexual. The office problem resolved itself, but the deep need that she felt didn't. She rubbed herself every evening, either in the bath or in bed, but only achieved momentary respite. For two weeks the situation persisted.

She awoke late that Saturday morning, tired, aching and feeling more than a little bruised. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling she tried to recall the events of the night before. The tiredness was not an aid to memory, but no recollections surfaced. Eventually Julia dragged herself out of bed and walked to the bathroom. She was only mildly surprised to find herself naked.

"What a hangover," she said aloud. Then she stopped dead in her tracks, "Wait a minute! I don't have a hangover!" It was true. She had no headache or queasiness. She simply felt tired and bruised. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her make up had been removed the night before. The state of her hair suggested that she had had a shower before retiring. But she recalled none of this.

The water drilled down from the shower head helping to revive her a little. She began to soap and massage her body. Her breasts felt bruised, the nipples sore. She continued to rack her brains, but still couldn't remember what had happened. Puzzlement turned to shock as her hands reached the area between her legs. Her pussy lips felt puffy, but looking down she could see and confirm what her hands had found; no pubic hair. Instead of the neatly trimmed triangle, her hands stroked smooth flesh instead.

An hour later she sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, attempting to rationalise the situation. She was convinced that she must have had sex. Having only just finished her period a few days before, she considered it highly unlikely that she would fall pregnant, but the fears of what else could happen from unprotected sex were a real concern. Fortunately, all subsequent tests (pregnancy and otherwise) proved to be negative.

Of course, it happened again six months later. The circumstances were similar; working stress leading to sexual frustration. The sudden relief of the former resulted in another morning waking up in confusion. Except that this time it was a Tuesday morning and she had to get ready for work. Once again her pussy was shaven, this time the evidence in the form of a twin-bladed razor was to be found in the kitchen bin. It meant that she had come home and then gone out again.

Returning home that evening, she looked in the washing basket for more signs of what had happened. Having completed her washing on Sunday, there should have been only two lots of clothes in the basket. As she hadn't worn underwear under her tracksuit on wash day, there should be one set of underwear in the container. There was none. No bra, no panties. The tracksuit was there, along with the blouse and trousers that she had worn to work. But, in addition was her short, pleated black skirt and black silk blouse.

Holding the clothes up to look at them, Julia was upset to see that there was a little tear just under one sleeve and some dirty marks on the back. The skirt gave more damning evidence; semen stains both on the outside and the inside, roughly where the material would have brushed itself against her genitals as she walked.

Once again, Julia was very concerned. She was worried about the consequences, about the fact that she didn't remember a thing. And, although she hadn't realised it at the time, she was feeling sexually satisfied. In fact, apart from the obvious after effects of what must have been slightly rough sex, her body felt fantastic. The tests proved negative again, thank goodness, but Julia decided that she should see her Doctor about going on the pill. This was merely a precaution she told herself. She hoped very much that this would never happen again.

For a while, everything was normal with Julia. She felt alive, buzzing with energy. Her confidence at work had its effect as well and people realised she was a force to be reckoned with. When she received a promotion and an increase in salary nobody (including her) was surprised.

The promotion meant more responsibility and with it an increase in mental pressure. The stress began to build once more, as did Julia's sense of sexual frustration. The tension was only increased by the worry that she might be heading for another 'episode'.

It occurred on a Saturday afternoon. She remembered having lunch and then sitting down to watch a film on television. It was a pretty tame film, so she decided to put on one of her collection of DVDs. It had a mildly erotic scene about half way through, but she didn't recall seeing it. Her next memory was of waking up in bed on Sunday morning.

The incidences of memory loss continued, increasing in frequency, until they were only a couple of months apart. Finally, she realised that she would have to do something about the situation. She had awoken late, naked, bruised and sore once more. She had clearly cleaned herself up again before retiring to bed.

The aches were nothing to be concerned about, but she checked her body over in the bedroom mirror. One or two small bruises were visible, but nothing much. Her nipples were very sore indeed and looked as though had been treated roughly. The muscles of her inner thighs felt as though they had been stretched to their limits. Her pussy lips were darker than usual and seemed tender as she walked.

Unusually, the muscles in her ass cheeks were aching badly. She wondered about this, but didn't understand the significance until she was standing in the shower, soaping her body. As her hand slid between her cheeks, her fingertips came into contact with her anus. It too was sore, but she was shocked to be able to feel the opening. It was almost gaping. It had never felt like that before. The realisation that she had been ass-fucked was devastating. She had never allowed any of her previous partners to do that to her.

Julia made an appointment to see her Doctor.

*****

Chapter 2

The Surgery had around five Doctors and a couple of Nurses on most days. Although Julia was signed up with Dr. Morris, she agreed to see Dr. White instead as the former had a long waiting list for appointments.

"Come in Ms. Jackson. Please sit down," she said as she finished washing her hands and drying them."

Dr. White was a reasonably attractive 35 year-old. She was dressed in matching dark trousers and jacket, with a white blouse underneath. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. The effect was to make her appear brusque and business-like; something that most patients didn't like and as a result preferred not to see her.

Dr. White sat down behind her desk and said, "Now Ms. Jackson. How can I help?"

Now that she was here, she realised that she couldn't tell another woman the whole story, so she just explained about the losses of memory. The Doctor listened patiently until Julia had finished.

"Hmm. Unusual," she said. "Look, I have to ask this. Do you drink, or take drugs?"

"No," said Julia, with a look of surprise. "No, I've never taken drugs in my life. I do drink from time to time, but I can take it or leave it and I never drink to excess anyway. Besides I don't keep much alcohol at home anyway."

"Is there any possibility that somebody could have spiked your drink somewhere?"

"What? Like a date rape drug? At home?"

Julia was becoming a little distressed by the line of questions.

"Look, I'm sorry…" She looked at her notes, "Julia. But I have to ask these questions if we are going to get to the bottom of it. You're clearly feeling very worried about this."

Dr. White considered for a moment, and then asked, "How do you feel about alternative therapies?"

Julia looked blankly at the Doctor. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she said cautiously. "I have a friend who is a hypnotherapist. He usually works with people who have addictions, but he also carries out a little research in other areas in the field. If you are agreeable, I'd like to contact him and discuss your case. How do you feel about that?"

Anything was better than doing nothing and waiting for the next time. Julia agreed.

Later that day, Dr. White rang Julia on her mobile and told her that John Reynolds had agreed to see her that evening at 7pm.

Mr. Reynolds surgery was in a side street in one of the busier parts of town. The doorway leading to the stairs was unassuming, but recently painted. When she reached the entrance on the first floor, she pushed a button above a sign that told her to ring and wait for the door to open. Inside was a waiting room, with comfortable chairs. She was about to sit down and wait when the inner door opened.

"Julia Jackson, I presume?" said a deep, yet soft voice. Its owner was tall – over six feet – and broad shouldered. The face was lightly tanned, clean shaven and highlighted by the deepest, dark brown eyes Julia had ever seen.

"Mm," she nodded. That was all she could manage.

"Hello. I'm John Reynolds." He shook her hand with a firm grip. "Why don't you come along in?"

Julia followed him into his inner office. It did have a couch, as she had expected, but he showed her to a comfortable chair and then sat down in an identical one next to her. A pad and pen were already sitting on the arm of the chair waiting for him.

"Dr. White has filled me in on your… concerns. But I'd like to hear for myself if that's OK?"

Julia nodded her agreement and then began to explain. Unlike with the Doctor, she felt she could and should tell John Reynolds everything. Well, almost everything.

When she had finished, almost half an hour had passed. The session was due to last for an hour. Having made plenty of notes, John sat looking at them for a while before speaking. "Well, Julia. I can't guarantee to be able to help you, but I think that you have a deep need to know what has been happening to you during these lapses. What I would like to do is put you into a hypnotic sleep and send you back to… re-call the events (he had almost said re-live, but just stopped himself in time).

Julia agreed. He then showed her over to the couch, explaining that it was important for her to be as comfortable as possible. He sat in a wheeled chair beside her.

Not everybody is susceptible to hypnosis, but Julia was a good subject and went under very quickly. John pushed his chair away from her until he was level with her feet. This would allow him to observe both her facial and bodily reactions.

"I want you to go back Julia. Go back to the day of your first memory loss two years ago. You're leaving work, travelling home on the train. You get off and walk home. Do you remember?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"You arrive home and enter your front door. Tell me what is happening now."

"I've shut the front door. I've hung my raincoat up. I'm walking into the kitchen. Put the kettle on. Open the freezer and select a meal. I'm putting it in the microwave."

Julia was talking in a monotone, taking little jumps in time.

"I've finished eating. I've done the washing up. There's nothing on television."

"How do you feel Julia?" John asked gently.

Julia frowned. "I'm feeling… horny."

"Go on."

Julia seemed to falter, she licked her lips. "I've got to do something about this. I can't go on. I'll kill myself otherwise."

John was mildly worried about this revelation, but allowed the recollection to continue.

"I'm angry now. I'm going to the bedroom. I'm undressing. I'm looking at myself in the mirror. Why doesn't anybody want me? Why can't I get fucked?"

Whether John was expecting this or not the effect of Julia's pronouncement was quite dramatic. His mouth had gone dry, so he sipped the glass of water he kept handy.

"My pubic hair looks ugly," Julia continued. Her voice had begun to become more animated, seemingly at the point that her memories had been blocked. "I'm shaving it off. All of it. That's better. It's smooth now. It feels fantastic."

Julia smiled, clearly appreciating the memory. "I'm going out," she declared. I'm putting my high heels on. I'm walking to the front door. I've got hold of the handle. Wait! I can't go out naked! I want to, but I can't. I've put my raincoat on and tied it at the waist with the belt. My purse and keys are in the pocket. I'm out in the open now, walking along."

"What time is it, Julia?" he asked.

"It's dark. It must be after 9pm."

"How do you feel now?"

"Horny. Very, very horny. It feels incredible knowing that I have no clothes on under my coat. I can feel the breeze on my naked pussy. I can feel that I'm getting wet."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I'm just walking around town. Anywhere I guess."

"What happens next?"

"I'm walking along the pavement. There are two young men standing on the corner of an alleyway. I've walked past them, but they've said something to me."

"What did they say?"

"One said, 'Alright darling, looking for something?' The other one laughed said, 'I've got something you can see. It would fit nicely between those gorgeous tits of yours.'"

"Go on."

"I walk back towards them. 'What tits,' I say. These? I'm holding open my raincoat. Their mouths and eyes are open wide. 'Fucking hell!' they both say.

"One of them pulls my coat back together again. 'Shit, what are you trying to do? Get us arrested?' He's taking hold of my arm, leading me down the alley. It's dark, but there's a bit of light from the moon." Julia paused and took a deep breath."

"OK, Julia. I want you to stop there," John interrupted her. He was aware that the session was nearly over and he had another appointment at 8pm. Besides, it seemed as though Julia was starting to get to an important point in the recollection. If he took her there now, he may run out of time to deal with what he found.

"Julia, I want you to wake up in a moment, but I want you to forget what you have told me this evening. When you come around, you are going to feel a lot better, more relaxed. I'm going to count backwards from ten. When I reach one, you will awake fully. Do you understand Julia?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Ten, nine, eight. You're starting to come out of your sleep now. Seven, six, five, four. Your body is waking up. Three, two, one. Wake up."

Julia opened her eyes. She frowned a little. "Have you done it?"

"You've been under for about thirty minutes."

"But I still don't remember anything!" she complained.

"That's OK, Julia. You're not quite ready yet. I want you to make another appointment. Can you come back at the same time in three days?"

"Yes, I guess so. Will I be able to remember then?"

"We'll see. These things take time and we have to be careful about it."

Julia walked away from the office, disappointed that she knew no more than when she went in. However, she did feel a little different. Not quite so worried about things. Mr. Reynolds seemed confident that he could help.

*****

Chapter 3

It was Thursday afternoon. Julia left work on time and went home to make herself a meal prior to her appointment. Unconsciously, she had dressed with Mr. Reynolds in mind; a simple, plain blue dress and matching high heels. Not that it mattered, of course, but she put on a matching bra and pants in fine blue lace.

When she entered John Reynolds's office, he showed her straight to the couch. He explained that he had decided to stop the last session because they were coming to an important part and he wanted to have the full hour to deal with it.

Julia went under quickly again and, after prompting, rapidly ran through the events she had related previously.

"You're in the alleyway now, Julia. Tell me what is happening."

"I'm leaning with my back to the wall. The two of them are standing, looking at me. They want me to open my coat again." Julia smiled in her sleep. "I've opened it up. The poor sods think all their Christmases have come at once.

"'Well come on then. Where's this thing that would fit nicely between my tits?' I say. He's checking up and down the alley. Now he's unzipping his jeans. Oooh! His dick looks gorgeous!"

Julia was clearly becoming aroused by the memory. Her body had been relaxed, but now she was fidgeting, raising one knee off of the couch. John was aware that she was now showing off considerably more of her legs in this way. He re-doubled his concentration on making his notes.

"He wants me to squat down a bit, so he can put it in between them. I'm squeezing my breasts around his dick. He's thrusting it between them. He's fucking my tits. Ohh! His friend has got his hand between my legs. He's got two fingers in me. It feels fantastic. He's coming! He's spraying it all over my chest. Some of it has hit my chin.

"The first one has stepped away from me. His mate is getting his cock out now. I hope he's going to fuck me. He's got to fuck me. Ohhh! He's pushed it right in. He's fucking me!"

Julia's raised knee fell to one side, pulling the skirt of her dress higher and revealing the gusset of her pale blue panties. Her panties were showing the unmistakeable signs of dampness at the crotch. John wasn't sure if he should allow Julia to continue, but she pressed on with her story.

"I haven't come yet. I need to come. I'm telling him to fuck me harder. He's ramming it in, really deep. The first one is rubbing himself, he's getting harder again. The other one is really pounding me. He's shooting his load into me now. He's pinning me to the wall, clutching my breasts. My feet are hardly touching the ground."

Julia's hands were becoming animated now. They had moved from her sides and were now plying her breasts. John took a drink to dry his throat. He really should end this now, but he was captivated by the performance in front of him. Julia's panties had changed colour with the moisture. His own arousal had brought on a massive and solid erection. He had to fight the urge to unzip his trousers and rub himself. As it was, his legs were crossed and the hand with the notepad was trying to press his cock down.

"He's pulled out now. His friend is standing in front of me. He's hard again. He wants me to squat right down." Both of Julia's knees were raised now, her heels close to her ass cheeks. "He's going to shove it in my mouth, make me suck him."

"How do you feel, Julia?" he croaked.