tagHumor & SatireHarry Boner's Sex Academy

Harry Boner's Sex Academy


"What the fuck?" Howie Long exclaimed. "What are you doing Harry? Harry Boner's Sex Academy? Is this another one of your nut-ball ideas?"

"Yeah. You're gonna like this idea? I might even let you in on it," Harry Boner said smiling. "Just think about it. All these horny women coming to my warehouse looking for sex because their wimpy husbands and boyfriends can't get it up. And me waiting here to show them a good time."

"So you really think this is going to work, Harry? I have some suspicion this is going to be another one of your..."

Just then the phone rang on Harry's desk. Harry answered in his official sounding voice. "Good morning. Harry Boner's Sex Academy. Harry Speaking."

"Mister Boner, this is Liz...um... Smith. Yes, Smith. That's my name. Liz Smith." Then in a voice filled with embarrassment the woman went on. "I'm having some, shall we say, intimate problems with my boyfriend. I was wondering..."

"Why, of course, Miss Smith. That's what the Academy is here for. We are open for any sexual problems you may be having."

"Oh, I'm so glad. I have to say I was a little embarrassed to call. But you sound so professional, Mister Boner. Can we set up an appointment?"

"Why certainly. What about 2:00 PM this afternoon. I do have an opening then." Harry was wearing a huge, lascivious grin.

"That will be fine. Should I bring my boyfriend?"

"Oh, no. That would upset my...umm...let's say we should have our first consultation in private."

"Good. I'll see you at two," Liz said hanging up the phone. Harry surveyed the office he had built at one end of the warehouse where his last failed business venture had been. Over the front door was a sign that read, Harry Boner's Sex Academy. There was a potted palm in the corner, a cheap carpet on the floor he had picked up from a dumpster, a desk made with a telephone. Behind the desk was a doorway that lead into his inner sanctum which he thought of has his "work room" complete with an old Laz-E-Boy couch that made out into a bed, a rotating mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling that he'd stolen from the Crystal Dance Hall on New Years Eve and two speakers on the wall carrying something that sounded like Muzak but which really was coming from his old tape recorder out in the warehouse playing a loop of Slim Whitman's Greatest Hits.

"I told you, Howard. This is going to be the best idea I'd ever had. Not only do I get more sex than I'd ever imagined. They will pay me too."

Howard shook his head. "I don't know what will happen, Harry. But it will go wrong one way or another."

It seemed like a long wait for two PM. Harry brushed his teeth five times, combed his hair eleven times with differing styles, ten of which were meant to cover his bald spot at the back of his crown, showered four times, quaffed his entire body with deodorant, four different after shave lotions and shaved six times. Finally at 1:33 PM he sat at his desk thinking that was all he could do.

At 2:05 Liz Smith swizzle-hipped into his office. She had the larges boobs Harry had ever seen. Her raven hair was done up in a bun at the back of her head and her skirt barely covered her ample ass. Harry's cock went BOINGGGGG! Harry tried to rise from behind his desk while covering the lump in his crotch.

"Miss Smith, I presume," he stammered extending his hand, sweaty palm and all.

"Yes. And you must be Mister Boner."

"That I am," Harry mumbled. "Why don't you come into my consultation room," he said leading her to the doorway behind his desk.

Seating her next to him on the Laz-E-Boy couch Harry asked in his most professional sounding voice while staring intently at her cleavage, "Let's get started. What seems to be your problem?" What Harry really wanted to get started on was Miss Smith's enormous knockers, of course.

"Well, it's like this. My boyfriend is sort of a prude, you know. There are things he just refuses to do."

"Oh, that cad!" Harry exclaimed. "And what might those things be?"

"I'm not sure I can tell you. It's sort of embarrassing, you know."

"Well maybe you can show me then," Harry said, trying to keep a straight face and his tongue locked somewhere behind his teeth.

"Do you think that's a good idea? I mean..."

"Oh certainly, Miss Smith. After all. I'm a professional."

"Well. Okay. But this is sort of kinky. You won't laugh will you?"

"Laugh? Don't be silly. I'm only here to help you, Miss Smith," Harry responded sounding professional again. Then to himself with an inward grin, "And help me out too."

Liz Smith stood and pulled her skirt up revealing a pair of flowered Jockey Shorts and a bulge where there should be one. "I really love oral sex," Liz went on. But Robert just hates it. And it leaves me so horny." Liz Smith shoved her hand into the waistband of her knickers and pulled out an enormous, throbbing cock.

"Umm...yes. I can see that," Harry stammered. His hard on shriveled.

"Oh, Mister Boner, can you help me? Please," she pleaded.

"Oh...Umm...Yes...Umm. But I think our time is up for now. And umm..."

"Damn. I was so hoping I could get some help in relieving this thing," Liz said dabbing a tear from her right eye.

"Well. Umm. Why don't you...umm...try another consultant. I don't think I do...umm...your kind of case," Harry muttered moving as far away on the couch from Liz as he could.

"But, Mister Boner, I really like you. I think you could help me a lot."

"Well, yes. I suppose. Ummm...maybe one of my associates..." Harry thought quickly, "How the fuck do I get out of this?"

"You have associates? Are they as nice as you?"

"Umm. I'll see what I can do for our next session," Harry said jumping up and running to the office.

Behind his desk he said, "Yes. I have an appointment open in June of 2050. Will that be okay?"

"Oh, now you are toying with me, Mister Boner. What about the same time tomorrow?" With that Liz Smith swept out of the office.

"Jesus!" Harry thought. "Who can I get to take care of that tranny?" The phone rang. Harry answered, "Harry Boner's Sex Academy. Harry Speaking."

"Hello, Mister Boner. This is Martha Long. I was hoping you could help me with a little problem."

"You aren't a tranny, are you?" Harry blurted.

"A what? Oh, no. Mister Boner. I'm a woman. But I have a problem with my husband. We've been married for ten years and lately he just doesn't seem very interested."

"Oh, I see. Okay then. Can you come right over? I have an opening. Maybe we can get started today."

"That would be wonderful."

Harry hung up the phone. The vision of the huge cock still fresh in his mind, Harry went into the bathroom and washed his face. After he sprayed the couch with every disinfectant he found under the sink in the bathroom he returned to his office just as the door opened and a beautiful blonde walked in. "Hello. I'm Martha Long. Are you Mister Boner?" she asked.

"Yes. I just spoke to you on the phone a few minutes ago. Why don't you come into my consultation room where we can talk?" Harry lead the women into the back room and sat next to her on the couch.

"Now, tell me. What seems to be the problem?"

"My husband used to be a real horn dog, but lately he just isn't interested in sex at all. I get so horny but I never get any sex anymore. Can you help by advising me?"

Harry looked the woman up and down: lovely blonde hair, conservative but inexpensive dress, beautiful, kissable lips, her breasts he guessed to be a "B" cup. She was a little short but maybe that was a plus. Nothing seemed wrong here this time.

"Yes, I think I can help. Are you both physically healthy?"

"I think so. I exercise everyday and eat right. My husband is a body builder."

"Body builder, eh?"

"Yes. He's very strong and large."

"And where is he right now?" Harry asked conversationally.

"Oh, he's at the gym. He's always at the gym."

"Oh, good," Harry thought moving closer to Martha so he could peer down the open "V" of her dress at her cleavage.

What do you think, Mister Boner? I'm 37 now. Have I become unattractive? Is that why Reggie won't touch me?"

"Unattractive? Why no. You are a very attractive woman. I can't see that as even a part of the problem." Harry's arm snaked across the back cushions of the couch toward Martha's neck.

"Then tell me what do you think?"

"I think we need to do some investigation, Miss Long." Harry's face was now just an inch from Martha's. "God! Those lips," he thought.

"Mister Boner, I'm so horny I could just die." With that Martha's arm went around Harry's neck and pulled his face to hers. Their lips met to the strains of Slim Whitman's My Heart is Broken in Three.

"Oh boy. This is the best idea I ever had. I'm going to get some," Harry told himself happily as he felt Martha's hand rubbing away at the lump in his pants.

"Oh Baby!" exclaimed Martha. "I need it so bad."

"Yes, I can see that, Martha. You don't mind me calling you Martha, do you?" Harry said cupping her left breast and squeezing her hard nipple.

"Oh, Harry take me. Take me now," Martha said in a low husky voice.

Harry's hand slid between her thighs and felt the moisture there. He rubbed. He pressed. His fingers slid under her thong and dived into the netherland there.

"Oh, God, Harry. You are so good. Fuck me. Fuck me hard," Martha screamed.

Harry ripped off his belt and tore off his pants. His cock was hard and throbbing.

"Oh, God. It's so big and ready for me, Harry. Give it to me. Give it to me now," she pleaded.

Harry forced her legs open and...

"What the fuck is going on here?" came a voice from the door.

"Harry looked up to see a huge man in gym shorts standing in the doorway, face red with rage.

"Oh shit," Harry thought.

"Hi, Marvin," Harry heard Martha say. "Umm. Meet Harry Boner, my sex therapist. Harry, meet my husband, Marvin Long."

"Sex therapist, my fucking ass!" screamed Marvin moving toward Harry.

The last thing Harry remembered was flying through the air and striking the wall. He had no idea how he broke his arm or how where his front teeth were when he woke up in the hospital with Nurse Boobie adjusting his IV.

"What happened?" Harry wondered out loud.

"You had a little accident, Mister Boner," Nurse Boobie told him. "And are you really a sex therapist? I could use your help."

Harry only groaned as he reconsidered this entire sex academy business.

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