Deprogramming Amy

He walked over and turned on the TV. "Are you ready for another exciting night of dirty videos?"

"Why sir, I look forward to my evening with you." I pulled the blanket off the bed and brought it over to the love seat.

We settled in. "What's it going to be, Space Vixens or Lonely widow managing a motel on the beach in Cabo San Lucas."

"Lonely widow. I love the character development in the more serious pieces."

Soon we watched a lonely but exceedingly shapely widow having her drains unplugged by a handy man who wore his tool belt but nothing else inside his coveralls. When they got down to sex within five minutes of his arrival, I reached over and wrapped my hand around Mark's swelling dick eliciting a gasp from him. I had never held one like this before and I found it rigid, warm and far to big to fit in me. The loose skin on it made it easy to slide up and down which I did slowly. Mark collapsed against the back of the couch with his eyes closed and moaned. I never realized that a woman could have such total control over a guy.

"Oh man that feels good," he whispered before putting his arm around my shoulder pulling me closer. He kissed me letting me slide my tongue into his mouth. I could do anything I wanted as long as I kept stroking. What a feeling of power!

With my thumb I smeared the slippery dew collecting at the tip of his penis around the head.

Mark inhaled. "Oh man, that feels so good."

Things were happening with me too. My nipples were as hard as they had ever been, and my moisture collected below.

I continued running my hand up and down his shaft until he went stiff holding his breath. With one more pump he pulsed. The first spurt shot in the air about a foot landing on his chest, the second shot six inches high landing on his stomach, the third splashed on the back of my hand and the fourth dribbled out.

"Thank you," he gave me a satisfied smile. "You strutting around naked keeps me horny. I needed relief."

He got up and returned with a box of tissues so I could clean my hands.

"Now, let me return the favor."

He kissed me lingering on my lips. I returned his kisses laying on him to get as much skin to skin contact as I could. When we came up for air, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed as if I weighed nothing at all. Around other women, I considered myself large and ungainly, but Mark in one simple movement made me feel petite and delicate. I wanted him so much.

When I reached for his dick to pleasure him, he pushed my hand away. "This isn't about me, it's about you."

He worked his way down kissing my neck and shoulders lingering over my nipples. I have incredibly sensitive breasts and when he sucked and kissed them, I had a mini orgasm. While he was paying such arousing attention to my breasts, his other hand drifted lower to my stomach, waist, hips finally resting on my mons where he played with my short curlys.

His hand drifted even lower and I opened my legs eager for him. A finger lay the length of my slit while the others stroked my outer lips. That talented middle finger pushed my lips aside and stroked my fully moistened inner lips. His finger plunged deeper into my folds eliciting a gasp from me.

He stopped. "Are you okay?"

I smiled. "Better than okay, but if you want to get me going, stroke right here."

I positioned his finger over my clit. "Be gentle. It's very sensitive."

He lightly stroked it and I writhed with the intensity of his touch.

When he stopped, I placed my hand over his. "Keep going. That really turns me on."

He stroked a few more times pushing me higher in my arousal. The orgasm started deep in my stomach radiating outwards locking all my muscles until delicious pleasure rolled over me like a tsunami. All I could do was grab his hand and hold it close to my clit as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me.

When I was done shuddering with pleasure, I patted his hand to stop him from stroking me. Parts had gotten too tender. "Thank you. That was amazing."

Mark laughed. "Can you believe our parents are paying money so we can do this?"

"We're certainly learning to be heterosexuals." I got up and got a drink of water in the bathroom.

When I crawled back into bed, he looked at me expectantly. "We need to make love. I'm ready, and I think you are too."

I rubbed his arm. "You have to be patient and gentle; I'm a virgin, and you seem so large."

He gave me a delighted smile. "That's perfect. I'm a virgin too. If anything hurts, tell me and I'll stop. Now, let's try out some brand new parts." He rubbed his hands together like he'd been given a slice of birthday cake.

I was happy he was a virgin, but it made everything right. His lips found mine and I became aggressive in my sexual greed. I forced my tongue into his mouth demanding that he French kiss me as I lay across his naked body getting as much skin to skin contact as I could. We would explore our sexuality together.

His lips drifted across my cheek and down my neck lingering once again at my breasts before drifting kiss by kiss across my belly to my navel, and then my mons.

He sat up and positioned himself at the end of the bed where he gently pushed my legs apart and kissed his way up my leg and thigh stopping over my outer lips. I moaned in anticipation. His hot breath warmed my outer lips. Using his tongue, he entered me running my slit from bottom to top lingering over my clit.

When his tongue touched my clit, a quick, hard orgasm slammed into me that made me want a deeper, more satisfying one. I didn't wait long. He dragged his sensuous lips up my body lingering over my breasts before his mouth came to rest on mine. I tasted my own arousal on his lips, and marveled at the salty, aromatic taste.

He positioned his cock over my vagina and rubbed the head up and down my slit making it slick with my juices. I squirmed with anticipation and pushed his hand away as I centered his manhood over my opening.

"Push gently," I whispered.

He slid into me about halfway and met resistance, then pulled out until only his head remained between my outer lips , then pushed a little deeper. On the third stroke our hips joined.

"Stop for a moment," I murmured. "I need to get used to you in me. It feels so wonderful." I kissed his cheek.

My vaginal muscles gripped him. An orgasmic tremor rattled through me. I've read women who write how a man filled her. That's not the right word. It was more than that. Mark completed me. I knew what every part of my body was for. My slit was meant to hold Mark's penis as much Mark's penis belonged in my body. I'm not trying to be mystical. It's a statement of fact. That's why men's and women's parts match up so well, and why the act of sex is so much fun.

"Am I hurting you?" Mark whispered.

I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him by way of an answer.

Mark stroked into me at a leisurely pace. Each thrust sent a ripple of pleasure deep into me. The pace increased making my pleasure continuous pushing me to orgasm. It thundered through me and all I could do was wrap my legs around him and dig my nails into his shoulders as another wave rolled over me.

I may have passed out.

"Amy, are you okay?"

In response, I pulled him down to me and kissed him long and slow.

"I've never felt better. I'm a little dizzy. The room spun beneath me for a second."

He stroked into me again, and the tingle in the pit of my stomach radiated outward locking all my muscles and curling my toes. I urged him faster with my heels on his ass.

Suddenly he froze. "I'm going to cum. Should I pull out?"

"I'm on the pill for my acne. Don't you dare pull out."

Every muscle tensed in him. His knees came off the bed until his orgasm hit and he pumped spurt after spurt inside me. His delicious warmth pulsed into me, and pushed me over the edge into another orgasm. This one centered around the delectable sensation of my vagina pulsing around his dick. It was good for him too. He moaned as I pulsed around him.

Afterwards, I lay on his shoulder with my thigh draped across his. It seemed so natural to be laying there stroking his stomach and playing with his nipples. I watched his penis twitch. I cupped it in my hand and marveled at how it grew under my touch.

"Do you have any control over it?"

He shook his head. "It has a mind of its own. If I see a beautiful woman, like yourself, it will start to rise. If the beautiful woman is naked and stroking me, I have no control at all."

"Should I stop?"

"Please don't. What you're doing is heavenly, it makes me want to slide into you again." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I kissed him slipping my tongue between his lips. "I would like that very much."

I most want to make love after I've made love. I experienced this for the first time that evening. I welcomed him like an old friend as he slid effortlessly into me. His strokes came slower this time maximizing the sensuality of our contact. When I came close to orgasm, he stopped leaving me at the peak of arousal, but unable to take the plunge into orgasm. I moaned and urged him forward with my heels.

"I'm getting tired, I'm going to need a few kisses to motivate me to keep going," Mark whispered into my ear.

I grabbed his smiling face and laid the most passionate kiss on him that I could. He moaned and his hips stirred to life. I climbed the ladder of heavenly sensation to my next orgasm which blossomed across me in a gentle unfolding of passion. It wasn't as strong as my first one or the second, but equally satisfying in its own way. Mark stopped thrusting to witness what he had done to me. I pulled him into my chest and held him tight. He allowed me to relax before he began again. I eagerly fell into his rhythm feeling another orgasm building. This time I reached an orgasmic state where I did not come down, but flitted from orgasm to orgasm making my hips twitch in a most delicious way. Too soon, Mark stiffened above me and pulsed and pulsed into the core of my being.

When we uncoupled, Mark panted like he had run a hundred yard dash.

"Wow, it's amazing what you do to me, woman." He gasped out. "This is one hell of a camp."

Mark drifted into sleep with a smile on his face. I, for some reason, couldn't turn my mind off. I had no idea where this was headed. I had thought that an orgasm was a thing. Now I had discovered that they could be very different. I had had short hard ones that were a surprise, and long slow ones that rolled on and on, and everything in between. How many other kinds were there?

I could see the little dome that housed the camera on the ceiling. They had surely taped us and someone would review our "progress". What did they want? If we screwed like bunnies every chance we got, would that satisfy them? How were we supposed to prove to them that we were cured of our homosexuality? Should I play their game? When they certified us as converted, we would be hailed as a great success and proof that conversion therapy worked.

That I was playing into their hands irked me no end. I wanted revenge against my parents and this sham of an institution that was extracting large sums of money from my family under false pretenses. If I allowed them to claim us as a successful gay deprogramming, I was dooming other unsuspecting teens to this misguided program?

They knew that Mark and I weren't homosexuals. That was the whole point, they were bilking our parents out of money for a cure that we did not need for a condition that needed no cure. After a couple of months they would return us to our financially drained parents proclaiming us newly minted heterosexuals.

I was starting to fall for Mark, and I he had the same feelings for me. The problem was that we were both eighteen, my home was in North Carolina, his was in Georgia, and we were too young to fall in love. Hooking up had blossomed into passionate regard. There was more to our entangled lives than terrific sex. We were becoming a couple. Logically, we had only known each other for twenty-four hours.

Eventually, sleep found me.

On the fourth day of struggling with my too short slip, I gave up. As I sat in group session listening to a lecture about the plasticity of the human brain and how we can unlearn what we have learned, I pulled the slip off and sat there listening to the nervous giggles around me.

The group leader glared at me. "Why are you naked?"

I held up the offending piece of clothing. "It's too short, too tight, and uncomfortable to sit in for hours on end."

"Please put it back on." She said it as more of an order than a request.

"Not until I get one that fits."

The lecturer summoned a matron with her hand. "Please escort Amy to her psychologist."

I stood and walked to the door leaving my slip sitting on the chair.

When we stepped out in the hall, the matron frowned at me. "You're going to be labeled a troublemaker."

She was the skinny matron with the weird hair.

"Those slips are miserable. The one you gave me the first night I was here was the longest I ever got. I can't walk down the hall in most of them without my ass and muff on display. And the constant squashing of my breasts leaves them sore by the end of the day. I'm better off walking around naked."

"You're walking into a shit storm. Be prepared."

"It couldn't possibly be more embarrassing than walking down this hall naked as a jay bird."

I squared my shoulders and looked straight ahead to avoid the stares. I watched two guys walk into each other as they gaped at me. Walking around naked did feel good in a way.

My psychologist, once again, put me on hold as he read the note from the lecturer. He slid it into my file and wrote an entry.

"Why won't you wear clothing in class?" There was no doubt he was a heterosexual judging by the way his eyes lingered on my breasts.

"It's too tight and uncomfortable."

"What size were you given?"

"Medium."

He turned to the matron. "Could you bring me a woman's large slip?"

The matron nodded and disappeared.

He studied my face. "You could have asked for a large."

"I was told it would be far too big on me."

"Well then, you could have talked to me about it."

I was waiting for that comment. "Where exactly is your sign up sheet? What are your counseling hours, and why is your office in an area inaccessible to your patients?"

Before he could answer, the matron returned with a size large slip. I stood and pulled it over my head.

The good thing was it wasn't tight on me, and it was long enough, but now my breasts were barely covered by the narrow material of the shoulder straps.

I sat down and smiled at him as I adjusted the straps to cover my nipples.

"We may have a problem," I swiveled one way in my seat, then the other and my breast popped out. "If you have a sewing kit, I could modify a few of these to fit me."

He shook his head. "If I let you do it, then everyone will want to. You're here to learn to be a heterosexual not a seamstress," he bit his lower lip. "You're going to have to learn how to live with it. Remember how I asked you to go along with the program? This is one of the little inconveniences you're going to have to endure for a few more days before we send you to the social group reorientation group."

I nodded my head pretending that I was defeated.

"Well, thank you for listening to me." I stood, pulled off the too large slip and left the office escorted by the matron.

"You already know what you're going to do next," she said as she opened the door back into the asylum.

I nodded.

"Don't tell me. If you do, I'll have to report it," she shut the door and rattled it to make sure it had locked. Then she returned me to my class.

"Will you wear your assigned clothing now?" The instructor asked trying to embarrass me.

I nodded. "I must wear the slip while in class."

I returned to my seat, picked up my slip and slid it over my head before sitting down. Then I slipped out of the arm holes and pushed down my slip exposing my breasts. That gave me enough freedom to pull the slip down until it hit mid thigh.

The lecturer sneered at me but didn't miss a beat. She continued the lecture. When the class broke at noon, the girl sitting next to me asked what I would do at lunch.

"I think I'm going to lunch like this. I'd rather show my breasts than my vagina."

The guys went wild at lunch. A steady stream of them walked past my table, but no matron showed up demanding that I follow her to the psychologist's office. So, I guess I was okay.

What amazed me was how hot I got from the guys ogling me. I wanted to go back to my room and rip off Mark's clothing.

An amazing thing happened at my peer group counseling session that afternoon. I was no longer the only girl rebelling against the ridiculous clothing. A tall girl like me had also pulled her slip down exposing her breasts. A slightly heavy girl pulled her slip entirely off then wore it as an apron by pulling her arms through the arm holes.

The topic of the session was coping with the ridiculous outfits, and one by one the girls stopped pulling at their slips letting them ride up exposing everything. Even more removed their slips and spent the session naked with their slips draped across their laps.

When I walked into our room at the end of the day, Mark looked up and shook his head. "When they starting talking about the stacked girl walking around with her breasts exposed, I knew it was you."

I stripped off the offending garment, wadded it up and threw it into the corner.

"I'm done wearing it. I'll take it with me wherever I go, I'll even put it on if they order me to, but I am spending as much time naked as I can. Life is too short to put up with that misery."

I sat on the love seat next to him. "Now give me a 'hello sweetie, how was your day' kiss. I can't begin to tell you how aroused I got with guys ogling me all day long."

The day got better after that.

Later that evening I got an idea. I rummaged around in the bathroom until I found the cuticle scissors. I then slit the slip up each side seam until it no longer bound me across the hips. Then I slit it down the same seams from under my armpits until I had more freedom for my breasts. I modeled the result for Mark.

"I don't think they'll like it," he gave a nervous laugh. "You look like an Orion slave girl from Star Trek. It shows the sides of your naked hips and really displays your breasts."

He thought for a minute. "Do you think you could work the same magic on my shorts?"

I slit the side seams on his shorts exposing a great deal of hip.

"That feels much better," he sat down on the love seat. "Look at that. I can even sit in these."

The next morning we walked out in our altered uniforms. At noon over lunch my psychologist along with several others read an announcement. Uniforms could not be altered by the wearer.

In protest, well over half of the inmates stood and removed their uniforms and threw them at the psychologists. After that, no one in management said a word if someone decided to go naked.

Our naked 24/7 routine did not change for a week. Girls and guys went to class free of clothing. Class breaks was an unending panorama of variations on the theme of the human body. There were short ones, tall ones, fat ones, skinny ones, big breasts, no breasts, large cocks, and little cocks. At the end of the second day the new normal was sandals or tennis shoes with socks and nothing else. If there was a down side, I couldn't see it. People seemed happier.

The skinny matron with the weird hair dropped by one evening and gave us a card.

"You've progressed nicely through the program, and as a result, you get more privileges. You're allowed into the courtyard. Swipe the card, and security will let you out."

She chuckled. "Don't be surprised if there are other couples out there."