An Artist's Muse

Turning to me, presenting a dangling penis still flaccid, Wright declared, "It seems we skipped the bother, of the usual protocol, dinner, get to know each other, before paying the motel room charges, to release pent -- up hormonal surges."

Without missing a heartbeat, I retorted, "I gave the same line to Al when he kept paying me to undress for topless photos that he sold to you."

"Al took some good pictures," Wright, remaining calm, collected, and casual as if he were fully clothed, acknowledged, "He fastidiously followed my directions as to poses."

"And I thought Al was just getting his rocks off," I, trying to conceal my surprise at Dr Wright's unperturbed, impermeable demeanor, replied, "when he used some ointment on my shoulders and under-boobs to bring out the bra lines in the pictures, turned over the elastic band on my panties for the topless shots and fluffed up the pubic hair for the nudes."

"Oh, the illustrations are supposed to be clinical, professional, the model's face is never shown -- unless the face is being illustrated," Dr Wright chuckled, "Still, a subtle appeal to a prurient interest works. Sex sells. Count on a pornographer to come up with great shots. Al's models proved to be most useful. "

Pointing Dr Wright to the shower, I quipped, "Glad, truthfully, to be a freak proven usefully."

Slinging a towel over his muscular shoulder, Dr Wright strode to the shower, declaring "hmm, "I wonder if I qualify to be a person deemed useful to someone."

Under the shower, Dr Wright lathered the soap in his arm pits, ran the soap across his chest then jiggled his nuts and stretched his penis.

Eyes fixed on his building erection, I, covering my mouth with my hand, exclaimed, "Oh my. I never expected this."

Still tugging at his penis, Dr Wright solicitously asked, "Is everything alright? This is a fertility clinic. I am here to make a deposit!"

Stupidest thoughts come to mind, I blurted out, "I never realized that when men go erect, their eh--probes were tapered."

"Interesting choice of words," Dr Wright replied, "Why not join me?"

My focus was still riveted on his burgeoning erection, but I had enough mind left to decline politely as I passed him a towel, "I would but that might violate your exclusive output agreement with Al. After you've made your deposit, I'll have to see to a haircut and a shave so that we can protect the clinic's rights to your output."

Folding his towel, Dr Wright deliberately with exaggerated motions dabbed himself dry. "Wouldn't want to corrupt the sample," Dr Wright quipped. Handed the hospital gown, Wright, stretching it out in front of him, commented, "unique. Open in the back. Button up front, I'll have to suggest it to the Surgeon General of the.."

Handed a hospital gown and ordered to sit in a wheelchair, Dr Wright, as he sat exclaimed that the seat was so small his nuts were hanging off the edge swinging in the breeze. I laughed, "at least your nuts are still dangling" as I rolled him away toward one of the treatment rooms.

Aimée caught me in the hallway. "My guy's in his refraction phase, body limp, face bearing a dumb smile, mind lost in a dull haze, no matter, I've got a while, to connect Dr Wright up in style."

"A threesome for a sperm donor!" Dr Wright declared, "We'll make history."

Entering the treatment room, Aimée rose to Wright's challenge. "Crammed in an oversized closet, I'll admit, a spartan welcome, to a tight fit, the hitching post beckons, to the spit you're directed, ideal for a threesome, to induce the deposit."

In the treatment room, Aimée shook her head. "You didn't strap his hands to armrests or his ankles to the footpads." Quickly fastening hands and feet to the chair, Aimée cautioned, "The object to have the patient shoot cum in the mechanical box, not in you."

"Covering her bustle, sets her skirts to rustle, her dainty form, suggestive of her charm," Dr Wright trilled his rill.

"Oh brother!" I declared.

Facing Dr Wright, Aimée cooed, "Shall we get ready?" With a slight of hand, Aimée passed me surgical gloves, while her eyes were locked with Wright's as she unbuttoned the front of his gown. "Now, don't you feel just a little more comfy."

Switching to a harsh clinic tone, Aimée noted, "Patient Wright, Circumcised male age 30, natural pubis." Crouching to maintain eye level contact with Dr Wright, Aimée asked, "First time donor?"

Receiving a nod, Aimée remarked, "I'll give you a regulation haircut and shave before you leave."

Applying her stethoscope to his bared chest and holding her free hand to Dr Wright's secured wrist, Aimée announced, "arousal stage three, skin flush, heartbeat elevated. Penile firmness: hard enough to penetrate but not yet quite rigid enough to ejaculate a full load. Just a little stim should bring more warm blood to engorge the penis and bring him to the tipping point."

"I'm going to," Aimée advised, "attach these little dots, transponders to your chest, hands, back, underarms, scrotum, and groinal crease." With a smile, Aimée added, "We'll be able to monitor your vitals, bodily heat, respiration, heartbeat, and pulse during the process."

After dabbing ointment along the length of the penis, at Aimée's instructions, I grasped Wright's cylindrical appendage between my thumb and forefinger and ran my clenched hand from the root to the frenulum, slowly at first but my speed picked up until Aimée tapped me to indicate the patient was ready to be hooked up.

At Aimée's direction, I wheeled Dr Wright flush against the upright column in the center of the room. I guided Dr Wright's erect probe into a hole in a black box attached to the pole. Contact activated the device sucking the probe in. Dr Wright's body went from relaxed to rigid, his hands clinched the arms rest.

Leaning over the wheelchair rail, to afford Wright a glimpse of her cleavage, Aimée felt Wright's wrist and applied a stethoscope to his chest. Nodding approval, she pressed a button on a TV remote.

On the wall in front of Dr Wright, images were projected on a screen. Who did Aimée intend to tease Dr Wright or me when she said, "bodies flash before you on screen, mind to wander, time to dream." At that, Aimée swirling in a pirouette exclaimed, "I love to watch," closing her eyes, "I wish but my own patient is beckoning, from the mist emerge-ning," With a playful wink, she added, "It's ripe time for your Mr Wright to go a -- dreaming."

On screen, plump as a butterball, Mary, emerging from the mists of a sauna, entered the steam of the communal shower. Plucked of her feathers, Mary, in the altogether, was the perfect look -- alike for my roommate Zaftig who dropped out of Al's Dirty Dozen upon graduation from med school.

Watching the screen, I gasped, "Oh my," I took a breath, "I never thought Al would really use this filmed mating dance." I covered my mouth. "Oh my! Indeed! Had my outburst broken the trance and prevented harvesting the seed?"

I looked at Wright. His mind was beclouded lost in the plateau stage. His chest expanded as his breathing became rapid and the tensed muscles made his body seem bigger, his nut sack was drawn taut close to the body. "Oh my," I blurted out, "as brilliant as Dr Wright is, he's still just a man."

On screen, my reaction was no different. A simple "Oh my!" escaped my lips when Mary took up a position under a spigot and beckoned me to join her. Oh, how I wished Mary were the real Zaftig, not her mere double.

Raising her arms to lather her hair, Mary shook her tush to send those bulbous breasts, speckled with droplets of soapy bubbles, swaying. "I'm here for you, sweetie You like what you see. Go ahead, dare to touch me."

My eyes were gripped to the screen. Did Wright find the film as engaging as I found it? Before me on screen was an act, a performance I had been paid for. How I wish I hadn't needed the money. But I was able to set a condition that the steam had to be thick enough so that my deformity wouldn't be noticeable.

"Putting Mary's boobs on my slender frame would make one helluva topless dancer." I sighed when I discussed the role with Al, "We can sing five times per day, `Every woman's beautiful' on command, but without the magic of the enchanter, your audience would demand Mary's tits over mine, anyway," I bluntly told Al.

Payment had melted away my reluctance. How I wish something could free me from my inhibitions when Zaftig paraded in her natural state from her room to the shower in our apartment!

Was I so lost in my reverie neglecting Dr Wright my charge? His face reddened; his skin was warm to the touch. His muscles were so taut he was pushing back against the foot pedals of the wheelchair. Grunting, he was about to cum but was fighting to hold off.

I whispered in his ear the command, "Ejaculate! Lest your balls burst, let instinct control, dominate and the furies detonate."

On screen, instinct or animal magnetism drew my image close to Mary. She grabbed me our lips locked. Her breasts crashed into my chest. Pushed against a tiled wall, I spread my legs as far apart them to allow her to work my clit with her knee. With orgasm approaching, I forced my hands between her legs to massage her clit.

Chests rising and falling in unison, Mary and I came together and crashed to the floor of the shower.

Watching the action on screen, I could feel my heart pound. My temperature raged. I felt uncomfortable in my clothes all of a sudden. Did the lab coat and panties seem too tight all of a sudden? Just as I could feel my resistance crumbling, I heard the raspy sounds of Dr Wright exclaiming as his body rhythmically convulsed propelling his load in a black box attached to a vertical beam. Was I disappointed that the load wasn't flowing into me?

Popping into the room to check on me, Aimée took a quick look at Dr Wright. Feeling his pulse, Aimée decided against applying her stethoscope. Declaring "Darlin' you've got a erector set! He's getting ready to cum again. I'd stay and help you out, but my customer gives a good tip, if I sneak in the shower with him."

"Al allows that?" I questioned.

"Officially no," Aimée replied, switching on the film, "But Al provides sperm collection condoms. Good clean fun when you play the ho," Aimée snickered, "can be overlooked if Al, bless his soul, gets his exclusive output."

On screen, Mary as Dr Zoptic appeared at the lectern in the Clinic's theatre addressing Nursing Assistants. "Good morning, ladies and the two gentlemen assistants we have here. I'm going to address some precautions to be taken during the process of harvesting sperm. Though our donors are generally medical students and a few dignified medical doctors and other professionals, making alimony payments. To collect their output requires you to bring their blood to boil. Remember you're right there without undies in a loose -- fitting white lab coat and fishnet stockings while we show the donors suggestive movies to spark their ardor."

Watching with Dr Wright, I whispered, "a slow beginning but I'm sure it intensifies in a crescendo."

Turning to looking at the screen behind her, Dr Zoptic (Mary) covered her mouth with her hands as on screen her bare body lie prone over a nude male. Like med students following a professor on rounds, people were grouped around the bed. The male's physiological reaction was noticeable. Zoptic (Mary) lifted herself up and drew the man's erect penis inside her.

"Quite the cowgirl?" Dr Zoptic (Mary) at the podium commented on her own gyrations. "Inhibitions removed, instinct goes into overdrive."

"Quite the slut," I commented as I massaged Dr Wright's shoulders, noticing the increasing tension in his muscles.

The on -- screen image faded into a scene in the sauna. Kneeling before a naked man with a naked mature woman looking on, Zoptic (Mary) exclaimed "for the cause of science" as she lapped the man's penis with her tongue before she introduced it in her mouth.

Back at the podium, Zoptic (Mary) lectured, "studies undertaken in the science of efficient sperm harvesting show that images of two girls getting it on turn men on."

On screen, shapely nursing assistant after rolling on the floor of the locker with me, threw a towel over her shoulder. Swinging her hips and wiggling those sculpted butt cheeks, the busty nursing assistant strutted toward the shower where the busty assistant coupled with a petite blonde assistant in the shower.

Out in the corridor, Dr Zoptic was running toward the locker. Hobbling on one foot and then the other to remove her flats, Dr Zoptic apologized, "Sorry I'm late. Couldn't be helped! I had to meet with the Hospital President -- in the sauna."

Kicking off her flats, Dr Zoptic squatted to slip off her slacks. A few paces down the hall, Dr Zoptic, lifting off her blouse and unhooking her bra, freed those delicious DD breasts, leaving them to bounce as she continued to race toward the locker. "No need for a fashion statement in the sauna. My expensive outfit spent the entire time rolled up in a ball tucked away in a locker."

Panties tossed aside, bare boobs bobbing, Dr Zoptic rushed through the locker into the shower where most of the nursing assistants were in the process of dressing. Yelling "Sorry I'm late," Dr Zoptic froze in the entrance of the shower. In front of Zoptic tall buxom assistant was locked in an embrace with a cute, petite, pony tailed, honey blond colleague. "Don't mind me," Zoptic promised as she took a position under a spigot. Nonplussed, Zoptic turned the shower on, "I'll be gone in a jiffy."

"If your job is to elevate a state of arousal, you can be carried away in the hormonal surge," Dr Zoptic (Mary) at the podium quipped, "Inhibitions removed, instinct launched into overdrive."

With Dr Wright watching the screen, my ministrations reached his chest muscles which were tightening. I thought his heart was thumping in his chest, pounding so hard I thought I could hear it the beat. Was he sweating? Were the palms of my hands picking up his sweat?

"How fathers, brothers, husbands, or boyfriends might react," Mary as Dr Zoptic at the podium introduced the next film clip, "to performing in the nude or in revealing attire is the first question asked of an inexperienced actress in a casting call interview."

In the audience, Aimée rose, the skirts of her lab coat riding up revealing an apple bottom. "No one's special here," interjected Aimée, "Everyone showers together before work undertaking, in the white lab coat out most strut, cheeks peeking from bare undercoating, mostly all finish up sans culotte."

After the laughter subsided Mary continued, "My case was a little unique. My boyfriend Joe didn't believe any would pay me to wear a revealing outfit which flashes a glimpse of my butt cheeks and exposing cleavage whenever I sashay around much less appear in the altogether. Joe had to see for himself. So, I signed him up to preview one of our training films."

"You brought him in here," Aimée taunted, "what did you do when you brought him into the employee's locker and ordered him to strip for shower and medical inspection."

Turning to the screen, Dr Zoptic reported, "as you can see on screen, reddish -- brown haired Joe's freckles were dancing on his melon face, stripped naked with a touch of grace ..." On screen flashed kaleidoscope of Joe, undressing, showering, hands locked behind his head submitting to a physical, bending over for an anal exam.

"Great balls aflame. Paid to watch porn," Joe exclaimed, "I'm a-game, to admire hot bodies, unadorned."

On the podium Mary, turning to the screen, noted the application of 1/8 inch diameter transponders to Joe's chest, back and butt, "Hands linked behind the head, one step from blissfulness, little dots affixed to measure, reaction to erotic stimulus, reason retreats, instinctive pleasure."

"Still fun and giggles?" chided Aimée from the audience.

"Stripped to the buff, all fun and giggles, Joe hung tough, right up to the point," Mary from the podium commented, "in front of a gynecological couch told, "Hop on the table you knave, legs spread for a haircut and a shave."

On screen, locking his legs in the stirrups, Dr Zoptic warned, "I ain't kidding. Be still while I'm snipping, Where once, a tool of dalliance, more trouble, by the ounce, now they bounce only at my sufferance."

Watching with Dr Wright, I teased, "Tough girls never quibble, women in authority dominate, man rendered servient left to snivel, evokes her prerogative to leave his shrivel, forcing him to grovel, feeds her expedient path to power." I paused to declare, "Truly, she stoops to conquer."

Even with the teasing whisper, Dr Wright, eyes scrunched as if in pain, hands clutching the arm rails, feet pressing against the foot pads as if he was trying to push himself up, face and chest reddened was holding back his ejaculate.

What should I do? Should I cut off the enticing images on screen?

On screen, Mary explained the processing of a male body for the test. "Manually working in depilatory cream brings on the desired physiological reaction," Mary commented from the podium, as her gloved hands in her on screen image lifted Joe's scrotum to massage around his ball sac and his perineum with a thick white cream. In instants, Joe's penis had risen vertically from a clump of foam.

From the podium watching the video, Mary commented, "Massaging with gentle care, protecting family heirloom," she raised her eyebrows, "of our donor stud, lifting the sac to coat his perineum, erection rising from foamy suds, whisking away soapy clods of pubic hair. Rendering him bare down there."

Towel around her waist, stethoscope dangling between her cupcake boobs, Aimée snuck into the ejaculatorium. One look, at Dr Wright, Aimée knelt at his side to touch his wrist. "He's burning up, you've got to make him cum. Whisper sweet nothings to him; he came here for you."

I cooed into Dr Wright's ear, "It's pure alchemy, engage with me in fantasy, banish harsh actuality, put aside all your gadgetry, floating in the mists of a tryst, dismiss reality, to enter the imaginary, envision grasping my wrists, to couple naturally, face contorted, muscles twitch, expel your cum into me."

On screen Joe`s body was being cleansed of the residue left behind as depilate. After washing away the suds and clumps of dark curly pubic hair, Mary turned to retrieve the collection condom and the plethysmograph, ie`phallic meter' from a table. "Nothing's given away for free," Mary on screen chirped a taunt to Joe, "for every benefice there's a fee, the erotic stim we input, cums to us precious, as the clinic's exclusive output.."

On screen, Joe freeing his ankles from the stirrups, moved stealthily sneaking, reaching under Mary's lab coat wresting, the air filled with the ear splitting, screeching sound of the fasteners parting, her white jacket discarding, Mary's bare DD breasts dangling ripe for Joe to be fondling.

Excusing his impertinence, temptation, merciless, instincts resurgence, which way to go? Reluctance or compliant, resistance or acquiescent. Her faint protest "You're here for a donation, a controlled emission."

Rocking to and fro, nature demands, time for a decision: convergence or division, "Fuck me!" Her command. Pushing back for maximum penetration, welcoming his load of ejaculation.

Prodded by Aimée, I whispered a promise, "cum for me now, I'll cum for you in the shower."

Dr Wright's body convulsed. A series of contractions followed. "Hmm, the sap finally flowed," Aimée declared, "he cums," Aimée noted, "and quite a load. Plus he's still alive. Give Dr Wright a sec to repair and revive before we pull him in for his shave. Remember, you took a dare, you must allow him there to watch while you bathe."

On screen, Mary was summing up the lesson. From the podium, Mary, watching her image on the screen crashing with Joe to the white tiled floor of the examination room, commented, "It's a simple posit. Before you tease, a man aroused and naked, no faith you can reposit, Bind the subject, you aim to please, hand and foot, and the clinic receives its deposit. To the clinic comes his exclusive output."