tagExhibitionist & VoyeurMuch Needed Therapy

Much Needed Therapy


"Ready?" Jules asked, barely above a whisper. Her eyes locked onto mine as she opened her mouth and gently engulfed the head of the throbbing red cock in her hand. Her soft, muffled moans were barely audible against the strained breathing from the man lying prostrate in the alley. She moved slowly up and down the length of the fat shaft. He was longer and thicker than I expected. Had I expected anything? I wasn't sure, but this wasn't it.

My head swam from the smell of him and I turned to the side, but I couldn't take my eyes away.

"Oh, God," she whispered, her lips leaving his cock with a smack. "He really stinks. I bet he hasn't showered in days."

"Months," I mumbled.

Her face snapped towards the sound of my voice even though her eyes had never left mine, as if her conscious mind had become so disconnected from her subconscious as to forget that I was there.

"No, days," she responded matter-of-factly and, straightening her back, shuddered. "After too long our bodies start to produce bacteria that snack on the nasty stuff our sweat glands produce and this"—she sniffed loudly—"heady aroma would be seriously diminished after months." A small light fixture hung forlornly above a rusted red door nearby, giving off a dim light that shone on her bare breasts. She shifted, keeping her grip on the cock, and grinned at me.

She adjusted her bra with one hand while she stroked him with the other. "$675." My gaze returned to meet hers. "The bra. Agent Provocateur. Though I hardly think he cares." She looked at it, then back up at me. "Do you like it?" Her question seemed to be equally teasing and sincere. "It's the only open cup bra I own. I'm not sure what kind of statement it makes. 'I'm slutty but I went to the trouble of putting something on?' I don't know. I like the feeling of wearing a bra and knowing that there's really nothing there. I'm certain everyone thinks I'm wearing a bra. At least it looks that way under my blouse. You can see the shoulder straps."

The man moaned loudly. "Shhhhh," she chided softly. She lowered her head and took him in her mouth again. She worked his cock for a few moments, then shifted her legs so she could lower herself closer to him. She swallowed him, burying her face in his wiry, matted pubic hair.

I watched in horror and disgust and painful arousal. My own cock strained uncomfortably against my jeans.

He moaned loudly again and she withdrew his entire length from her throat, gasping for air. She stroked him while she caught her breath. She shook her hair over her shoulders and gazed at me again with her pale blue eyes. The small light cast a bluish pall on her skin and she looked almost comically icy despite the unseasonably warm temperatures for September.

She smiled and massaged her breast. "You like them?" she asked. "Roy bought them for me after Abe was weaned. He said my formerly magnificent boobs needed a restoration after all the mileage Abe had put on them." Her brow furrowed. "They're really nice. I don't need a bra at all." After a slight pause, she reached behind her back, shrugged her shoulders, and the bra-that-wasn't slid down her arms. She switched the cock to her other hand and let it slide off the rest of the way, tossing it me. "Hold onto that for me, will you?" she winked.

I glanced around, nervous for the first time. The bra had really been no clothing at all, but this was symbolically more brazen. I shook my head, feeling foolish. Jules was sucking some strange man's dick in an alley near the waterfront. Anyone could walk by and see this and we'd all be up shit creek.

"Not down here," she said like she was reading my mind. "People coming from the bars and restaurants will be heading for the Spring Garden Station or to one of the parking lots in the opposite direction from us. Besides, no one walks into a dark alley at this time of night. Except us, I mean. The only thing we have to worry about is if there's a fire somewhere. The headlights from the fire trucks will light us up like daytime when they leave the firehouse." She noticed my nervous glance. "I'm mostly kidding about the firehouse."

The man moaned a low, rumbling protest as Jules released his cock and stood. He lifted his head to look at her. She was nearly six feet tall in stocking feet and tonight she wore midnight blue Manolo Blahnik pumps. Her large breasts were round and heavy, their man-made perfection marred only by the small tell-tale fold of skin near her arms that sometimes happened when a woman had implants that were too weighty. Her hips were wider than they'd been in college—likely a consequence of having had three children in the last ten years—but she was still stunning. Maybe even moreso now. Her face had lost all traces of baby fat that had remained from her youth and her elegant bone structure gave her a beauty that only comes with having won the genetic lottery. "Did you bring the condoms from the car?" she asked without looking at me.

"Yes," I replied, sounding small and alien. She continued to stand by him, unmoving except for her fingertips that absentedmindedly rubbed against her mons. I retrieved a condom from my pocket and held it out to her. I waited. The world seemed to have stopped. I knew there were things happening all around us. The noise of nightlife. The drone of traffic along I-95. But the world had stopped in our alley. Then she moved.

I watched with rapt attention as she swung her leg over to stand astride him. He grinned, a rotting, dirty grin, squinting his eyes nearly shut in pure joy with the thought of what was, beyond all probability, about to happen. She looked down at his cock, but stood there without moving. Was she having second thoughts?

Suddenly she squatted. I glanced at the condom in my outstretched hand, then quickly forgot it as she reached under herself and grasped his cock once more. She moved her panties to the side and began inserting him. "It's bigger than it looks," she whispered. She shuddered as she slowly took in his entire length. When he was fully inserted, she stopped and her body convulsed. She squeezed her knees together, a look of pain on her face. "Oh, God," she breathed, relaxing. "That was quick."

Her feet slid out behind her and her knees went to the ground. The man beneath her began humping up into her. "Slow down," she told him, a soothing tone in her voice. "Slowly." He ignored her, his hands reaching out to grasp at her smooth, ivory waist. He pounded into her like a jackhammer. Rather than try to stop him, she put her hands on his chest and arched her back, sliding her knees across the rough asphalt and spreading her thighs widely for him, her breasts bouncing violently.

His breathing grew ragged and fast-paced. "Are you gonna come?" she asked, sounding excited. A few seconds later he thrust into her and buried himself, lifting her knees off the ground. She gasped and a loud, hoarse groan escaped from the depths of this soul. "Oh, fuck," she said, a little too loudly for my comfort, throwing her head back, her body convulsing again. "Yes! Yes! Come in my pussy! Oh, God, yes!" The man reached up and locked onto her breasts as her body shook and jerked. "Oh, my God," she rasped several minutes later through clenched teeth, "he's still coming."

When their spasms had ended and their breathing had normalized, Jules stood and stretched her arms above her head like she'd just awoken from a pleasant nap. She turned to me, smiling broadly. The small light somehow brightly illuminated a strand of semen that was swinging between her legs.

I stared, speechless, as come streamed down the insides of her thighs and realized I was still holding the condom out towards her. She looked at my outstretched hand and reached between her legs. "Oops," she whispered, and shrugged. She brought her fingers to her mouth. "Oh, Matthew," she said, "you really need more fruit and vegetables in your diet." She licked her fingers clean and readjusted her panties.

Smiling at me again, she walked over and took the condom, then put it back in my pocket. She pecked me on the cheek and turned back to the man, who was now pulling his pants onto his legs. "I'm not sure if I'm having office hours next week, Matthew," she told him quietly. "I'm working a lot of overtime this weekend so Gordy will have enough material for the story he's writing."

'Matthew' looked confused. He stared at her silently before grumbling a mild protest I couldn't make out, then shuffled away. *She's insane*, I thought. *She's lost her damned mind.*

Jules scanned the ground around her, turning to her left and right. "Have you seen my bra?" she asked. "I can't see where I placed it. I'd hate to lose another one, not that Roy would notice, but it seems like a waste at $675 a pop." She paused and cocked her head to the side, then laughed lightly. "So to speak." She examined the ground around her for a few more moments, then shrugged again. "Oh, well. Let's go. We have places to be." She started walking towards the street.

"Jules, are you, well,...going like that?" I asked, and quickly caught up. I felt something at my rear and reached back. It was her 'bra' stuck in my back pocket. I yanked it out and nudged her arm with it.

She glanced down. "Perfect! Hold onto it for me." Her pace quickened as she headed out of the alley. A car drove by and honked. Brake lights came on and it screeched to a halt. Jules seemed to care not. I hurried to the car, furiously tapping the unlock button on my key fob. She calmly opened the door and climbed in as I sprinted around to the other side. The stopped car had started to reverse as I pulled away from the curb. I quickly turned at the next intersection.

"Ooo! Do you have any Kleenex?" Still concentrating on the road ahead and the rear view mirror at the same time, I fumbled with the console. "Perfect!" she said, extracting a small box. She wadded a handful, pulled her panties to the side, and stuffed it in. "Probably not very healthy, but I didn't want to get your seat dirty. Watch out!" I was staring, shaking my head in disbelief, and nearly sideswiped an oncoming car. I quickly pulled into a nearby alley and turned off the lights. I was lightheaded. I felt sick.

"Are you okay? You look really pale, even for this light."

My head was pounding. I didn't know what to say. "I..."

"You didn't believe me," Jules said softly. "You think I'm crazy."

"That would be a start."

"I told you."

"I thought it was just dirty talk, like college," I protested.

"Dirty talk? Like coll—you think that was just talk?"


"Oh, Gordy. You didn't know? I thought you knew." She looked at me miserably. "You didn't know."

I thought I might pass out.


I'd met Julie Jensen at a party when we were freshmen in college. Jules was, then, a portrait of innocence in a cable-knit sweater and faded blue jeans with her blonde ponytail, bright smile, and clear, blue eyes. She was tall. That was the first thing I'd noticed after her smile. Her blue jeans were almost painted on, but not in an obscene way. She had long, slender legs and petite little ankles.

She'd noticed me staring and, instead of being put off, had approached and teased me about it. We'd hit it off instantly, with her joking that it was due to me being the only person at the party taller than her. We snuck her into my dorm room afterwards because we hadn't wanted to go our separate ways. We'd cuddled and tried to stay quiet so that my Bible-thumping roommate in the bunk below wouldn't run tattling to the Resident Assistant down the hall and get us written up for an honor code violation.

I'd finally gotten the nerve to kiss her at sunrise. When my roommate left for Sunday school, I was surprised when she stripped me naked and went down on me. It was the third blowjob I'd ever had, but the other two had been nothing like this and had only occurred after a copious quantity of quid-pro-quo. Julie had licked and sucked me like my cock was precious. I fell in love instantly. "I'm about to...," I'd started, and she doubled her efforts. I came and felt her push me into her throat. I'd never felt anything like it before. I cried out loudly as I released what felt like great, gushing torrents.

She waited patiently until I was done and slowly extracted herself, heaving for air. "Wow," she'd said, breathing heavily. "You'll do." She'd giggled and started removing her clothes. "I'll give you five minutes to rest and then it's my turn." She'd leaned back while I caught my breath and, placing one foot on each side of my waist, started touching herself. Of course I'd seen porn, but it was nothing like this soft, caring, up close, and personal experience.

Being only eighteen at the time, I was ready to go again in almost no time. We made passionate love for nearly an hour. It sounds corny, but when we finished together, I knew she was The One. We spent the following six months exploring each other and falling in love.

As happens in many relationships, time was our enemy. We grew too familiar. Passion turned into complacency. When Jules found me flirting with another girl at a fraternity mixer late in our sophomore year, she was devastated. We spent several months afterwards coolly going through the motions. I expected the break to come when our apartment lease was up and the wait was difficult for me. Our relationship may have hit a rut, but I still loved her.

One night, she surprised me.

"Do you have any fantasies?" she asked instead of the normal ante-slumber banter about what had happened on *The Amazing Race*.

"Like being a billionaire playboy?" I joked.

"No. Like...sexual fantasies."

"Sexual fantasies?"

"Yeah," she prodded.

"I...never really thought about it, I guess."

"Not at all?" She seemed disappointed.

"I don't know. I guess I...have, but I...I can't remember anything specific."

"No, no. Generally. Not a specific fantasy you jerk off to in the bathroom."

"Hey! That's not—"

She laughed. "Like I had no idea. Seriously, is there something you fantasize about when you do that?"

My ears burned. *Big tits*, I thought. *No foreplay. A girlfriend who didn't ask stupid questions or try to embarrass me.*

"Don't get mad," she frowned. "Here, I'll start. I have a fantasy about having sex in public where someone might see me. Not out in the open. Somewhere where anyone might be walking by and discover what I was doing if they would only pause to look."


"And...then I have sex with them, too," she said quickly. Her eyes were wide, like she was surprised. I stared at her, blinking stupidly. She gazed back at me, a smile breaking out on her face. "So do you?"

"I..." My eyes were still wide. She looked at me expectantly. "How often do you fantasize about this?"

She hesitated. I didn't know for sure what she was thinking, but she seemed to have made up her mind about whatever it was. "All the time. I don't remember exactly when it started. Maybe I've always had these fantasies. But I really remember it after the Oklahoma State game. You remember? We parked at the Omni and went to that bar on Seventh. You kept teasing me under the table. You made me give you my panties and you kept teasing and teasing. We barely made it back to the car. Remember?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She was lost in her memory. "We went around the side of your car and I pulled up my skirt. Remember? Remember when that drunk guy stumbled into the parking garage and started peeing a few cars away from us? I was trying to get you to be still but you kept fucking me. I remember thinking 'What if he sees us?' But you kept going and I was sooooo turned on I thought 'So what? Let him watch.' Then it just popped into my head. 'Or let him join in.' And I came. Remember putting your hand over my mouth?"

A change had come over her. As she talked she'd wrapped her arms around herself and started squeezing her breasts together. By the end of the story she had grabbed her panties and pulled them tightly against her sex. I watched her, mesmerized. She realized what she was doing and stopped.

"So...that's...all the time now. Not at first. When you were still attracted to me." Her face flushed bright red and she looked sad.

"You think I'm not attracted to you?"

"You...I know you fantasize about what's-her-name. The girl you went to high school with. Piper."

"I don't."

"You do. Sometimes you talk in your sleep. And you were flirting with that A-Phi that looks like her," she said indignantly.

"I was," I admitted. "But I don't fantasize about Piper. Or Jamie. Her name is 'Jamie.'"

"Then who?" she demanded.


"Liar!" she spat.

"It's true!" I responded, surprised at her sudden anger. "I go in the bathroom and jerk off about that first night in my dorm room when you blew me like I was some sort of god. I jerk off thinking about the first time I came on your face and you walked down the hallway to the ladies' room looking like that. I can't believe there was no one around to see it! I wanted my shitbird roommate to know you weren't just beautiful—you were a total slut."

It was my turn for my eyes to pop wide in surprise. 'Slut' wasn't what I thought of her then. 'Nympho,' maybe. I waited for her to slap me. Instead, she jumped up from the bed and dragged me out onto the balcony of our small apartment. She ripped my boxers down and swallowed my cock immediately. I glanced around uneasily but groaned loudly as her head bobbed.

"What else do you jerk off thinking about?" she asked breathlessly as I slid from her lips. She slipped her panties off and flung them to the side. She was like a different person. "What else?" She took me in her mouth again.

I struggled, unable to concentrate on anything but her soft, warm mouth. "I...I want to...come inside you. Without a condom."

She flopped eagerly onto the chaise next to us and spread her legs, beckoning with her finger. Her face and her chest were bright red. "Come inside me." I hesitated. She reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling me between her obscenely spread legs. I felt her guide my cock inside her. She was hotter than I'd ever felt before. "Do you like fucking me out here? Where everyone can see?" she whispered into my ear. "Would you like it if someone watched us fuck? Would that be slutty? Would you like it if I was a slut? Do you want me to be your little slut? Do you like it when I say 'fucking' instead of 'making love?' Is that slutty? Do you like to fuck me? Do you like to fuck my hot, wet pussy?"

Her dirty talk sent me over the edge and I released, moaning loudly enough for our neighbors to hear. Stars exploded in my eyes. A tingling sensation rippled from my lower back up my spine and out across my shoulders. I planted my hands on either side of her and arched my back, trying to push deeper. A sliver of light fell across my shoulder and onto the window behind Jules. I opened my eyes fully to the reflection of one of our neighbors peeking through their blinds at us. I felt Julie's body stiffen. She groaned dramatically, without shame. As I pumped the last of my come into her, I glanced at the silhouette reflected in the window behind her head. Whoever it was had stayed there and watched.


I sat quietly, the noise from my engine the only sound. I could sense her looking at me. I didn't want to return her gaze. I wanted to be anywhere but here with her.

"Gordy, I...I wish I'd known."

"Please stop." My voice was lower than normal.

"Maybe I can explain."

"I don't think you can. I don't want you to explain." I was surprised at how calm I sounded given the tumult of thoughts and emotions coursing at light speed through every cell in my body. "I'm going to drop you at home."

"But, Gordy, I—"


"Okay," she said quietly. Her door opened.

"What are you doing?"

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