tagFetish30 Days or Bust: Day 09

30 Days or Bust: Day 09


All characters in this story are age 18 or older.


Madam Perkins' Wish, as ever, was to appear in public looking as if she had just had sex on the premises. She was so flushed and rumpled as we left the ladies' room that she definitely got her heart's desire, and I very nearly thought she was going to ask me into her home. But no; she merely pressed a nice bit of cash into my hand, as if I had been a good waiter or hairdresser, and with a final smile, bid me good-night.

I was longing to see Lisa, or even call her on the phone. But the deal spelled out one contact per day, so tomorrow would have to do.

There was one thing I could do to cheer myself up: shop for her present. I logged on to Blowfish. Surely there would be something elegant for my scientist, something both aesthetically appealing yet primally satisfying. Me! I thought with a smirk. But obviously, I couldn't tie a red bow around my own cock and present it, so I shopped for something as similar as possible.

It was pretty late before I got to bed. In the morning I slipped over to the local sex shop, my mind full of ideas. Usually browsing the toys was amusing because of the people. There are the novices, who look permanently embarrassed, and plainly hope they won't be seen in such a place. Then there are the pros like myself who might as well be buying a phone. You want one that does this, or has that feature, or comes in blue. Smirk.

The proprietor was an old friend. "Hi, Danielle," I greeted her.

She brightened and stepped over. "Looking for something special?"

"Something for a lady, yet something to set her passion free."

Danielle quirked her brows. "She must be special."

I nodded solemnly. "She is."

Together we picked out a nice, firm replica of man-meat and Dani took it up front to wrap. At the last minute I pointed to a package of assorted condoms in the display case.

"Throw those in, too, please." I had no idea whether Lisa enjoyed different textures, but it would be fun to introduce her to some new pleasures.

Danielle tied the bow with a flourish and zinged my credit card. "You want a bag for that?"


Now I had a brown paper bag with rope handles. This was much more my style. I prefer not to attract attention. Though there are occasional exceptions, in general, it's better for the profession.

My expectations fell the moment I walked in the door of her lab. Lisa didn't seem angry or even displeased, she was just -- different somehow.

"Oh, hi." She looked up from her microscope and waved at a row of stools. "Have a seat."

I settled the bag on the floor and my butt on the perch. Heaven only knows how many students had occupied this very chair, peering at some tiny specks and making sense out of them, or at least trying to.

Lisa ignored me. She stared through the twin lenses, then scratched something in a notebook. The intensity of her concentration was palpable. Two or three times she looked long and hard at her work, taking notes of some kind in between each visual inspection. I thought perhaps the answer to World Peace lay there and it was her job to decipher it.

A leaf or branch of some kind lay on the table beside her. It was kind of like a pine, only the needles were greener and softer-looking. Perhaps this was what all the fuss was about.

Maybe this wasn't a good time. I cleared my throat and was about to say as much when she finally looked up and slapped her notebook shut.

"Come on." She jerked her head toward the door. "There's a couch in my office."

I trailed in her wake, still curious about this new Lisa. She led the way across the hall and into her private sanctum.

"What's wrong?"


Uh-oh, here we go, I thought. The classic exchange let me know I had stepped in something soft. Now my job was not to sexually satisfy this woman, but to find out what was wrong, and how bad it was. Correction: how bad it was to her. Perception is reality.

Every man alive knows that when a woman says nothing is wrong, he must proceed very, very carefully, or suffer arctic consequences. Ten times out of ten, she wants to talk about it. She just wants to know first that she has your complete attention and respect.

Lisa sat beside me on the worn loveseat and started unbuttoning her blouse. She looked kind of pale and really, almost ready to cry.

Gently I closed one hand over hers.

"You can tell me. What is it?" I kept my voice easy and neutral, in no way patronizing.

She stopped undressing, but fretted and looked worried. "It will ruin the methodology if we don't."

By now I had a pretty good clue. "Are you hurting?"

She gave a mournful nod. "Yes."

"Will you let me look?"

Another nod. Her hands fell away from the half-open shirt. With absolute care, I undid one more button, and unclasped her bra. I kept my movements slow, reassuring this nervous filly. The oyster halves came apart and I pushed them aside.

"You're swollen. When did you start?"

"This morning after breakfast." She looked so unhappy.

I palmed the puffy nipples. "Does this hurt?"

"No. But I'm sore, and if you suck me I'm afraid it will hurt, but if you don't, then it won't be every day, and it might not work, and I don't want to screw this up. Do you see what I mean?"

I nodded, knowing her mental entanglement was to some degree the result of chemical imbalance. People make jokes about what women are like when they're menstruating. The compassionate truth is that it must be hellish, to be biologically seized every 28 days. I can only imagine it's like getting high against one's will.

I looked for a way to lead her out of the darkness. For the moment I wrapped her clothes around her chest.

"There are a couple of options, you know."

Her eyes searched my face. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, one thing we could do is I could suck you very gently. That would keep the daily continuity."

Lisa digested this notion. "And the other choice?"

"We could skip it" -- she winced -- "and I promise I'll work with you for as long as it takes, even after the month is over."

My last words made her face light up, as if I'd promised a pony ride to a child.

"Really? You would do that for me?"

"I know this is important to you."

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes. "Thank you so much." Her voice was nearly a whisper. She leaned back on the loveseat, inadvertently showing off her feminine profile.

It's true I cared very much about her feelings and what she was going through. It's also true that the sight of her lifted, half-naked bosom was causing a swelling in my pants. She had lovely breasts, beautifully proportionate to her figure, and I very much wanted to lick those cones.

For a moment I went away to fantasy land, picturing Lisa straddling me as I sat on the couch. She would impale herself on my raging cock, her hands around the back of my neck, and I would look up at the sweet tableau of her breasts, her hazel eyes ... she would kiss me ...

Her eyes snapped open. "Okay. Go easy on me."

My promise was solemn. I finished unbuttoning the smooth shirt and met her eyes. She seemed a bit more relaxed now, a bit more like herself.

I bent my head and kissed one nipple. This generated no complaints, so I opened my mouth and laved her with my tongue. Good so far. I barely sucked her at all, mostly just probing my tongue against the rose-petal skin.

"Mmm," she murmured. "Do the other one, please."

With pleasure. I shifted my attention to the other peak. Twisting my head this way and that, again I barely gave suck, letting my tongue do most of the work. I swirled my tongue around her tender nipple, offering sexual comfort.

Lisa dug her hands into my hair and whimpered. It was the sound of a woman in pleasure and pain at the same time. A man has to learn how to please his woman at this time, and the only way to learn is through trial and error, because each woman is different.

I gave a little nip with my teeth.

Her body arced and stiffened. "Ah!"

I pulled back. "Was that too hard?"

"No, yes," she said, and petted my forehead. She smiled at me. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners and I thought how she would be so beautiful when she was forty, fifty ... it was the way her eyes twinkled when she was happy.

I smiled back. "Good," I answered, and went back to work.

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