Madette

"I take it she didn't wake you up with a kiss and a cuddle," Georgie said quietly.

"Not on sex days. Well she kisses me, but it's not..."

She was rapt. She'd stopped writing and chewed her bottom lip again. She crossed her legs, and flicked her foot like an impatient tail.

I talk to the twitching foot. "She kisses me on the lips, but with her... lower lips, know what I mean? She calls it 'breakfast in bed'"

"Straight to the point then!" Georgie looked like she might clap. "And do you like it when she does that?"

"Have you met my wife? I feel like the king of the fucking world. I mean she's all fresh from the shower and all... wet."

She hummed. A long sing-song note. "Some men would find that emasculating."

"They would?"

"You don't?"

"Darlin' I'm one of the world's greatest cage fighters. Let's say I'm comfortable with my... masculinity, eh?"

"You paused again. Before masculinity."

"No I didn't."

"OK. So I guess she climaxed this morning, squatting on your mouth. You licking her. Her grinding on you blah-de-blah... Then did you do other things? It was your last chance to orgasm for quite a while, after all. Any special attention?"

"She came on my mouth. Then on my cock."

"Twice, then."

"Maybe more, I can't remember. At least twice."

"Her on top."

"And me on top. Well, like, doggy. That's when she came again, actually. So three times."

"And then you stopped. So that's when you came, penetrating her from behind?"

The question I was dreading. Because that time, like many times, I couldn't cum either. The clock showed only five minutes to go. Maybe I could drag it out.

"You didn't orgasm."

Four minutes, fifty seconds left. Forty-nine. Forty-eight...

"She must have fellated you. Did you orgasm then?"

Forty-five—

"Come on, Max. I need some answers. I feel like we're getting close to—"

"Odette doesn't... um..."

"She doesn't perform oral sex?"

I shook my head at her foot.

"Fair enough. O—K." She dotted her notes. Full stop. "That's it. Thanks Max. I think it's clear what you need to do isn't it? To fix this losing streak?"

I'd already sprung to my feet and was aimed for the door. I stopped. "It is?"

"We've got five minutes left. You know what you need." She looked me straight in the front of the trousers. "You're very hard."

I gulped. "I don't know what you mean."

She rolled her eyes. "OK let me be explicit. What do you think this body language says?" She slid off her couch, onto her knees, right there at my feet.

"Darlin'..." I kind of recoiled. "I—I'm married." I wasn't joking this time.

"No. You're misreading me. I'm not offering you an affair. My clothes are on. Have we kissed? Cuddled? Flirted even?"

My cock pounded at my jeans. I shook my head.

She waddled closer until her face was inches from my knocking bulge. She gazed up at me through her messy hair. "Max, remember the waivers you and your wife signed? She understands I'll do whatever it takes to improve your performance. Now what do you need to do?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You do."

A fuckload of flashback. A dream of a picnic. Of being the picnic, naked and laid out on a blanket, Georgie licking me like a cat, purring... My body gave up on my stalled brain. It unbuttoned my jeans, and yanked them with my shorts half down my thighs.

"Excellent." Her grin seemed less for me than at her own success, but still my cock took the glory. Unrestrained, it bounced out and unfurled fully erect in front of her face. It was a knobbly great club next to her smooth, clear skin. She peered at it. Then up at me. Her face was blank. "What do you want?" she said.

"But... but, I don't get it. You don't want to—"

"You don't know what I want. What do you want?"

I flexed my cock. She watched it buck. No smile. No frown. Not even curious.

"Suck it," I said.

Her big, soft mouth engulfed my hard end.

What happened next was not my best sexual performance.

She bobbed her head once, wriggled her "chubby tongue", and I seized up. I shuddered. "Fuck-I'm-cumming-I'm-cumming!"

She went, "Mm-hmm." As if to say, "I know" and slid her wet mouth up and down.

I exploded. I spasmed, clawing my ass, struck by lightning. She stayed calm, her palms flat on her thighs, her eyes closed, suckered tight to me. She didn't move but for the slithery press of her tongue as she swallowed. My cock jetted into her and each pulse felt like she'd sucked me briefly inside out. She sucked months of tension from me like... like it was fucking snake poison.

Over silent, frozen seconds, my dirty need passed secretly from deep in me to deep in her.

Finally, she sat back with a gentle, satisfied smile. She watched me as I shuddered and chuckled, giddy as fuck.

"That's more like it," she said. "And with three minutes left on the clock! Now." She smacked my ass. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

So that was the first time. She did me six more times after that, for each title training fight. I won them all by knockout. The last time, just before the six-week sex-free build-up to for the Miocic fight, is when I told myself, right, last time ever. Georgie might've been be all "it's-my-job" about it, and there was the waiver and all that, but it still felt wrong. I found it hard to meet Odette's eye most days.

Also, I'd decided on this last session I'd ask her to have a word with Odette about sorting me out herself sometimes. The kind of irresistible word she might whisper in my wife's sleep.

It took my strange therapist a little longer to make me cum on that last morning because I was so antsy about how to ask her to work some of her magic on my missus. Georgie didn't kneel after the first time, she reclined on her beloved sofa, leant up on the wide arm of it like the queen of Sheba. She sucked me calm as you like, totally relaxed. Like she was watching a box set. Her lavender soap scent rolled between us and made me feel I was in a dream of her.

There'd been none of the build-up of that first session before we got down to it. In fact we didn't talk about sex again. Sucking me off was relegated to part of my training, another mark in her diary. The session at the start of the six weeks before a fight, I'd run over to hers as usual, grab my shower, then—just in my towel—I'd join her at her sofa. I'd stand in front of her, whip off the towel. "Suck it." The telling part was important. If I didn't order her to suck me she just sat there watching my cock nod at her. Once or twice I let her watch in fact, imagining I was teasing her with it. She congratulated me for that after, in fact. She said, "It showed balls." But maybe that was a joke now I think about it, given I was literally showing her my bollocks.

All the other times, she'd drained me in under a minute. That day, two minutes in, I still hadn't cum. She had her notepad on the sofa arm, under her elbow, and she fiddled with her pen as she nodded her mouth along my length. It was funny because she was sort of wanking the pen in time to sucking me.

"You like this," I said.

Without missing a beat, she shoved her hand down the front of her leggings and rummaged. She nodded. "Mm-Hmm."

When she picked up her pen again, her index finger was glossy to the knuckle.

That's when I came.

And came.

The only time Georgie showed any emotion about these episodes was immediately after, giggling along with my headrush cackle and smiling a cheeky "I did that" smile as I calmed down. Because we were on the clock, she didn't want me to waste time getting dressed so these sessions I stayed naked. Yeah, I didn't get that logic, either.

I flopped into my wooden chair with a satisfied sigh.

She took a sip of water. "Better?"

My mouth opened but my brain was still looping-the-loop. I burst a laugh. "Thanks, Doc," I said eventually.

She shrugged with her lips. "Thank you."

"Seriously?"

"Of course!" She fluttered pages on her notepad to find an empty spot. "These are uniquely primal sessions. I physically draw the tension out of you with your semen. Mind and body are the same thing after all. I like to prove it sometimes, and rarely get the chance. So. Thank you."

"Anytime," I said.

She snorted, like, "In your dreams." She marked the date at the top of her page. "Now I'm particularly interested in why there was a such large amount of... tension in you today."

I had an urge to apologise, but still had the mental scars from the last time I said sorry to Georgie. She called it the "s" word. "More than usual?"

"Let's just say I won't need lunch!"

I laughed, polite like, but the crudeness of her joke still hung in the air until she purpled.

"Blame Odette," I said. "She really went for it this morning. Last night too. Got me well worked up."

Georgie beamed. It was obviously what she wanted to hear. "Really? Why so excited?"

Then I realised. She was fishing. Odette had her session with Georgie the afternoon before. "Well, maybe it was something you said, eh Doc? She came straight back from yours and basically mugged me."

"Good girl." She flopped onto her back and stroked one leg up the other. She twirled her hair and spoke to the ceiling. "She really knows what she wants that woman. I've done a good job on her, haven't I? I mean when you consider where we all started."

I wasn't going to get a better chance. I certainly didn't want to get distracted by our horrible pasts. Fucksake, especially Georgie's.

"Listen, I want to talk to you about Odette. Before we start. Is that OK?"

She turned onto her side and plopped her head onto a cushion. "Depends." Her gaze danced over me. Naked days were a bit like that.

"Well it's just, you know the whisper wavs you do for us?"

"You want me to do one for Odette, so she learns to like sucking you."

I grinned, my heart going like the clappers. "Would you?"

"Max." She glinted from her cushion, then clawed back her mane. "First, what took you so long to ask me? Have we not been working on that? Saying what you want?"

I offered my hands, like, I'm asking now.

"Second, just tell Odette what you want."

"A man never tells a woman to suck his cock." Even as the words left my mouth I thought, "Twat—how can you say that to this girl of all people?" But Georgie is Georgie. She didn't bat an eyelid.

"Most people want a lover who knows what they want," she said. "They want to be told. It turns them on. Do you hate it when Odette wakes you up with her special 'breakfast in bed', or do you love it? Stop withholding. Express your feelings to her. It's not about having your penis sucked it's about sharing intimacy. Have you not listened to anything I ever said?"

"That's all great, Doc, but what if I just want someone who wants to suck my cock?"

She growled into her cushion.

I raised my voice. "Someone who doesn't need to be asked, who just loves doing me like I love doing them." I punched my thigh. "Not someone who only does what they're fucking told."

Georgie sparked but, again, didn't rise to my fuckwit insult. "Max, I have to say, you're talking like an addict again. You've become fixated on this mythical blowjob high and are justifying it with talk of love."

That was, in every way, below the belt. "Oh and who's my current dealer then in this analogy? First sucks are free are they? Then you'll start demanding I break some faces in exchange for a fix?"

Straight up, I thought she might blub. Her face softened and slacked, but she reigned it in. "I was offering you incentive. I want you to learn to express yourself. As a client. And as a friend."

"Yep."

"Don't yep me. There's no shame in expressing your deepest desires with the love of your life. Some might say love depends on it. Odette manages well enough, I don't see why you can't. For all you know, she might want to suck you off but thinks you don't like it. Grow some balls. Let's see if the world's greatest cage fighter can be as tough as the world's sweetest woman."

An electric silence kind of danced around between us for moment. My cock stirred. No hiding that on naked days. I grabbed the first thought that came to mind. "Thing is, I can't go round demanding shit from Odette, Doc. A bloke my size has to be careful what they force on people know what I mean?"

"Oh what bollocks!"

"Is that your professional opinion?" I checked my lap. "Or a compliment?"

Georgie laughed this time, and it was like sun cracking through storm clouds. She sat up, tucked hair behind her ears, and regarded my cock and balls without embarrassment. Like she owned them.

"Will you help me, though?" I hoped her guard might be down. "With Odette?"

She bit her lip and addressed my hard-on like it was the boss. "I don't know, Max."

"OK. Let's do it this way, then. Here I am telling you what I want." I stood over her. She chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes busy on my torso and hips. "I want my wife to love this..." I squeezed my cock and balls until they purpled. "I want her to love doing me as much as I love doing her. And I want you"—I thrust a finger at her— "to sort that for me."

Georgie cleared her throat. "It's unethical." I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up a hand. "So you'll owe me."

Yeah, fucked up I know.

Six weeks later. Nada.

I mean look at us. Fucking like newly-weds in the velvet padded cell of this lingerie shop fitting room because Odette wants me to cum with her and I can't. I just can't. Georgie can call my behaviour "withholding" if she likes, but knowing that still won't release me. And now I'm worried only Georgie'll ever make me cum at all!

Full-length mirrors at either end of the room create a gorgeous army of Odettes. Perfectly synchronised (well drilled!), their faces are pressed to the glass, hips tipped up, naked from the waist down with their feet planted wide. Their mouths gape but their big, dark eyes are shut. Screwed shut like they don't want to see the army of naked brutes behind them, hunched and bunched and towering. A rutting herd of miserable fucking bulls.

Odette had made me strip first, as soon as we got in the fitting room, so she could get "an honest reaction" to her lingerie choices. We only got as far as this silky basque, the first thing she tried on. But now it's like she's ashamed of me or something. My cock is mythically slimy from her, I mean my balls are dripping, and I've reached round to sloppily strum her clit.

"P-please... c-cum." She shudders to a halt. "P-plea—hmph!" She all but swallows her lips and her hole sucks at me and she grunts through her nose and squeaks a long squeak and it's so obvious she's hiding an orgasm it's almost embarrassing. She grunts out a handful of twitches, then yanks my fingers off her clit but still manages these slinky moves on me, twisting to kiss me, puffing, "Oui... oui..." and generally pretending nothing's happened. Her hole's still clenching me for fucksake. She's still juddering in my arms like she just got Tasered.

In a silent dance we've done million times, I slip out of my wife and she slithers around in my arms and hooks hers round my neck when I stoop to kiss her. I stand and bring her with me as she wraps her legs around my waist. I guide her by her ass back down onto my cock. She shudders, and I fuck on, stepping back to watch our reflections. Odette's clasped to me like a baby monkey, huffing into my neck. I see us from front and back. She's porcelain and I'm oak. She writhes all sinuous and liquid, and I shove like a piledriver. I won't lie, I love it, but I wonder how long I have to fuck her before we can call it a day.

Then the blank honesty of the mirror is suddenly Georgie. It points out that I've got my cage face on. It's grim and hard, like a horrible leak of the secret anger in my gut. A fucking snake in me, hissing in Odette's ear, "Again, you prove you don't fucking love me. Again, you prove you did more to please your fucking dealer than me. Again, I won't cum for you."

But an odd thing happens.

There's a burst of lavender scent, like Georgie's soap. Overpowered by it, like a toke on a skunk spliff, I stagger a little.

Odette opens her eyes. She looks at us in the mirror, over my shoulder, and our reflected gazes meet. Her eyes are bedazzling. Fucking huge. Like, the size of the room. The size of the fucking world. And it's like I see her for the first time—no, like a dream of love at first sight.

Every cell in my body crackles with love for this woman. And she's fucking me with this perfect, neat little body, and cumming over and over and what am I playing at? Worried about fucking blowjobs?

She leans back in my arms to face me directly. She holds my cheeks. "Hello!" she whispers, and her eyes are shining voids and I tumble into them.

I grunt, and go rigid. Arch up onto my toes...

"No! Wait for me!" Odette works herself faster. She covers my face in kisses. "Wait!"

I erupt deep in her cunt.

"Merde!" she shrieks, half cross, half squealing with laughter as I toss her up and down. I got her whole weight in my hands and pump her, loving every thrust into my lovely girl. And she blabbers and wiggles, but I just fuck and fuck and fuck.

Her laughter seems to come from a mile away. Her feet kick like urging a horse's gallop— more, more, more. Then I'm so weak I can't even hold her weight, I lift her off me, put her down.

"Merde, Max!" She's grinning fit to burst, and punches my chest. Then bites it. "That was incroyable, my love, but I wanted to orgasm with you." She slaps my arse, then regards my shining, dripping cock, runs a finger under it. "Now you've cum and I am all... needy."

She sounds woozy. As woozy as I feel. She plucks more little bites and kisses to my chest. Bite, kiss. Bite, kiss.

"Yeah right." I slump against the wall. "I know you came already, sweetheart."

Odette shrugs. She's bite-kissing down the match-fit, but now trembling, knots of my stomach. "Oui. But a woman, she has many climaxes non? " She speaks to my nodding-off erection, not to me. Like Georgie does. I blink away the association. But not before I get a flash of my therapist patiently sucking the cum out of me.

Grow some balls Max.

Maybe it's because my bones buzz wellbeing all over my skin, and so I don't care too much about rejection, that I decide to give it a go. Express myself. Get explicit.

"I bet you could suck me hard again." The words seem pounded direct from my chest

"Hmm." Odette peers up at me. My heart quivers my pec. She smirks. "Oui, I think I'd like this." Her kisses drop down my abdomen. "Can you smell that lovely perfum de lavande? Is like Georgie, non?"

She sinks to her knees.

As simple as that. You ever get that feeling that all the mismatched bits of your life all flip into place suddenly? No? Let me give you someone's number...

My vision's still sparkling from my orgasm, so the room's like full of magic fucking fairy dust. Especially then. Because my beautiful face-of-Chanel missus dips under me and sends a cat lap under my girl-glossed balls. She runs it up the underside of my slippery shaft, and gathers the lazy spill of cum down my end to join her own juices in her mouth. She blinks up at me innocently, despite the puddle of white I glimpse on her tongue before she plants lingering kisses to my cock head.

She sniggers lustily, and puts on a gravely voice. "L'essence d'un homme. L'essence d'une femme. L'essence de Madette."

It's the strap of our perfume ads. I throw back my head and guffaw. I'm still chuckling when my chilly cock is overwhelmed by a humming, wet heat.

I jerk violently, oversensitive from my orgasm, but mainly from two years waiting for this moment. Odette laughs and it's cock-muffled and vibrates right into my soul. I brace myself and... she is fucking amazing.

She sucks and licks me with all delight and relish that I suck and lick her. Moaning and sometimes bursting, "Oui!" like a whispery cheer. Framed in the mirror, her bare-bottomed reflection is as prim at my feet as her mouth is filthy on my dick. What a fucking combo.