Nymphs Pt. 01

Author notes: Content Warning: This piece contains explicit and taboo themes, including elements of incest, dominance, and explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. Please be aware of the content and choose to proceed only if you are 18 years or older and comfortable with such themes. Please note that I am not a professional writer, and this piece is a work of fiction. It may contain grammatical errors and stylistic imperfections.

Nymphs: Part One

Meave chewed her thumbnail, nervous. Her pink nail polish was flaking, overdue for a trip to the manicurist. She was due for many things, but lately, she had been far too cautious about leaving her home. Her face was free of makeup, and her hair was unkempt, a sign that she indeed was in a bad way. Even without its routine care, her round face was still pretty in its own simple way. Her large doe eyes and pouty lips had a way of disarming people. The opulence of the office in which she waited, especially the statue of the goat man in the corner, riled up a storm of nervous waves in her stomach. She made all attempts to ignore the massive phallus on the statue, which was absolutely not a welcome sight given her current situation. Her other finger scraped at a dry, powdery stain stuck to the dark cushion of the sofa where she sat. She grappled with the urge to leave but remained seated, reminding herself that Dr. Hadad had pulled strings to get her these services free of charge. She wasn't going to squander such kindness.

The front door opened, and Meave started. Her eyes surveyed the man who entered the office. He was in his mid to late thirties with serious brown eyes that shone brightly under severe and sharp eyebrows. His hair swooped back into a stylish undercut, and a neatly manicured beard framed the remainder of his face. The man's intense nose sat above full lips. His fancy suit was pulled taunt against a fit physique.

In her head, she cursed Dr. Hadad for assigning her such a specimen of a psychiatrist. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough, in hindsight, having made a move on her medical doctor. The psychiatrist walked around the desk and stood before the leather sofa, extending his hand towards her. She stood and took his hand in hers. His grip was vice-like but not painful. The feeling of his skin against hers caused a lusting heat to bellow in the pits of her stomach, and she pulled her hand back.

"I'm Dr. Harrington," he said in a strong and disarming voice. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Holdings."

"Nice to meet you as well," Meave said, struggling to look into the man's eyes. She gazed at the floor but mentally recoiled when her sight settled on the bulge in his pants. The heat inside her stomach ignited at the sight of the round and full package. She quickly glanced back up.

"You may have a seat," Harrington offered.

Meave settled back into the leather sofa and ran a hand down the pants legs of her baggy sweats. She pulled at the oversized t-shirt she had draped over her curvy frame.

Harrington leaned against the front of his desk, looking down at her. She stole another glance at his bulge. "Apologies for all the paperwork, contracts, and NDAs. Hopefully, you didn't find the process too tedious."

"Not at all," she said, looking past his shoulder, her eyes quickly darting away from the indecency of the statue in the corner. "Anything it takes to get some help."

"Why don't you start by telling me what brings you in?"

"I-" she began. "Well, I-" she stalled again.

"Go ahead. Nothing embarrasses or shocks me."

"I can't stop thinking about sex," Meave confessed.

"That's not entirely unusual," Harrington began.

"No, I mean like all the time," Maeve pressed. "Like any guy I find myself attracted to...it's like...like I have to keep myself from just pulling down his pants and sucking-" She stopped herself with a whimper, pulling at her oversized t-shirt. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright." Harrington soothed. "So, these desires, are they in any way quelled by intercourse with your husband?"

Maeve shook her head.

"Dr. Hadad did mention that his check-up with you became, shall we say, unconventional at one point."

She blushed and looked down at the floor, trying not to let the memories of that day conflate the desire brewing in her belly.

"It's okay," Harrington assured. "Cast away that self-judgment, at least while behind these four walls. What you're experiencing is absolutely natural."

She looked up at him. "It doesn't feel that way. That's why I saw Dr. Hadad."

"I read his case file on you," Harrington admitted. "You went to him, desperate, because your unquenchable desires had crossed a moral boundary you couldn't reconcile within yourself."

She nodded, and he continued.

"I know your son was sleeping off some intoxication, had fallen asleep, or rather passed out, on the living room sofa."

Maeve covered her face.

"It's okay," Harrington assured once more. "You're not here as a judgment to your character. You're here to better understand what's going on inside you. Your nature. Your role. You've built a wall here, so allow me to breach it."

Maeve heard a zipping sound and looked up. She froze, her mouth agape. Harrington continued standing at his desk, but his fly was undone, and his cock and balls had been pulled through. The sight of them rattled Maeve, and she wanted to launch herself onto the impressive display offered before her. The uncut cock itself was thick and veiny, hanging about seven inches soft, resting atop low-hanging balls. A small patch of thick pubes also sprouted from the top of the open fly. Maeve was sure she wasn't imagining the delicious, sour, earthy smell that now wafted at her nose, such an alluring musk unique to endowed men.

"Now, you agreed to unconventional methods," Harrington explained. "I see your eyes frozen on my big cock. Tell me, would you like to see it in its full glory? Stiff with engorgement?"

Maeve wanted nothing more in the whole world. She looked up at him and nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I have mastered my cock; it does nothing without my permission. If we have the appropriate breakthroughs in this office, I promise I'll allow you to fully see it." He took a step closer. The intensity of his musk increased. She made no moves. With his cock only inches from her face, he said.

"If we have absolute progress here, I might even let you taste it."

Overcome, she reached for it, but he grabbed her wrist firmly.

"No, not until we've discussed what needs to be brought to light."

Maeve pulled her hand back, and he returned to leaning against his desk.

"I'll do anything for it," her eyes never left his cock.

"Then let's begin by telling me what happened when you booked an emergency appointment with Dr. Hadad. It's time to be honest with yourself."

*

Maeve sucked hungrily at her husband's cock, looking up at him as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, letting his firm five inches press against the opening of her throat. Mr. Holdings gripped her dark hair in two fistfuls and grunted. She watched as his skinny body swayed in and out of her mouth, imagining that his tiny round ass was clenching, close to release.

"Fuck,"

right on cue.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." He attempted to pull her head away, but she held fast, and his cock throbbed inside her mouth. She slurped at his cum, swallowing it, some of it dribbling down her chin. "Fuck, something really has gotten into you lately. You swallowed all that with no bitching."

Maeve liked it when he used curse words, as he was not prone to do so. His personality was as straight-edged and as plain as his appearance. Meave often joked about him being predestined for his profession, accounting. Hearing him use slurs caused the heat inside her cunt to flare hotter. As he turned to wipe his cock off with a towel, she pushed him against the bed, and he landed bent against the corner of the mattress, belly down. She crawled forward and pressed her face between his small asscheeks, licking at his musty purplish hole for the third time that day.

"Goddamn, Maeve," he groaned into the comforter. He pushed himself up and shooed her away. "I've cum four times already. Give it a rest. It's Saturday, and I need some sleep."

Maeve stood, her large round breasts, tipped with firm pink nipples, dripped with one of her husband's aforementioned loads. A second one ran down her thigh, leaking from her shaven, tight (but reddened and used) mound. Pouting, she pulled on her PJs and left her husband to nap.

She rummaged in the kitchen for a coffee mug and noticed Zeke, her son, splayed on the couch. He had stumbled in from a party last night and hadn't reached his room. His clothes were piled on the floor. He had pulled a thin blanket over his chin, and Maeve's eyes shamefully locked onto his morning (afternoon) wood. His thighs, which had gotten even thicker since he joined the wrestling team, were spread wide on the couch, and his cock pointed up at his stomach. It wasn't dissimilar to his father's length, about five inches, but it was much wider. Its pink, heart-shaped head flared with rounded grooves that joined into a deep-set slit at its tip. His balls were drawn up in a round, tight circle. He was completely shaven.

Maeve strolled towards the living room, intending, she told herself, to just cover him back up. When she got to the side of the couch, she dropped to her knees, a nearly unconscious behavior. She wanted a sniff. Innocent enough, she told herself. She leaned close and breathed in his scent. There was the expected musk but also a sourness that indicated he had gotten pussy or head at the party. Inexplicably the thought of his cock being served by another woman was the catalyst for her decision, and she reached out and gripped his rod.

*

"Only a touch?" Harrington challenged.

Maeve nodded.

"We won't have any breakthroughs," he pointed to his hanging cock. "If we aren't honest in these sessions."

"Okay, it was more than that," Maeve admitted. Recalling the event filled her with shame, but her moist slit was proof of her desires.

"Before you continue," Harrington ordered. "I want you to pull your pants and panties off." He indicated, and Maeve saw a wet spot on the crotch of her sweatpants.

Exposing herself to Harrington was more than desirable, so she obeyed. She lifted off the seat and pulled her pants and panties to her ankle. Her soft thighs spread against the cushion, and she parted her legs, displaying a shaven and tight, moist mound with small lips and a dimple that housed a tiny, pink clit.

"Now rub your clit and describe how it felt to have your son's cock in your grip."

"But-" she protested, not wanting to feed the desires she felt raging.

"You can leave now if you're not invested in my methodology."

She lowered her hand and traced a finger over her clit; it felt like a warm fire sizzling her overstimulated slit. She whimpered.

"His cock, in your hand, what was it like?"

"It was so firm," she whimpered. "So much thicker than his father's, I could feel the edges of his shaft bugling against my palm. It curved in my hand a little-"

"Not just how it felt. How you felt."

"At first, I felt like the most vile mother in the world, but once I gripped it, it was like my mind cleared, and I understood."

"What did you understand?"

"My place. My-"

"Purpose?" Harrington offered.

"Yes!" She whimpered. Her finger pressed hard against her clit, and her thighs shook.

"You wanted more than a touch, didn't you?"

"Yes!."

"You leaned down and tasted it, sucked off your own son."

"I did!" Thick, clear liquid seeped from Maeve's slit. "I sucked my son's cock!" She confessed.

"That honesty, right there, is the beginning of a breakthrough. Continue your story."

*

Her son's shaft pulsed in her grip, and he smacked his plump lips in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Unable to think straight, Maeve leaned in close and ran her tongue along the underside of the cock head, tracing the deep grooves. His cock coated her tongue in the tangy, sweet sourness of dried sex. Her son's legs spread a little wider, and she allowed her tongue to explore the shaft, tracing an S along its width. At his balls, she took in a deep breath, and the musk of his nutsack overtook her; she took the full girth of the cock into her mouth and suckled, letting her tongue roll around the heart-shaped head.

Her son muttered again, but she continued suckling at his cock, so drunk on the taste of it that she no longer cared if he woke up. He remained passed out, but his hips thrust slightly in his sleep, and his muttering continued. Drool ran down his broad chin.

"...Coop.." he slurred.

Cooper was his best friend; Meave thought of Coop, too. Tall, lean, and with such massive feet, and wished his cock was next to her son's. How hot it would be to suck off her son and his best friend at the same time, and she just knew Cooper had to be packing. She was just getting into the fantasy, now slurping at Zeke's rod, when he grunted, and she felt his shaft swell in her mouth and fill it full of salty (a night of dehydration and bad dieting) cum. She coughed but swallowed it down. She was desperate for more and continued sucking, but Zeke grunted again and began to turn face down onto the couch, his cock plopped from her hungry mouth, trailing thick creamy jizz.

Maeve pouted again but admired the thick and beautiful ass now presented to her. For all of her husband's sharp angles, Zeke was curvy and toned. His ass was a bubble dappled lightly with hair. Instinctively, Maeve reached forward and spread his fat cheeks, gazing down at his pink hole. She observed a white crusty stain splattered on his left cheek and another dried to his pink hole. Did Zeke have some secrets? The thought drove her wild, and she buried her face between his cheeks and licked feverishly.

The dried cum tasted salty, mixed with the metallic musk of her son's hole. Her hand shot to her clit, and she ran a finger along it. Her son's hole puckered against her tongue, and passioned heat seared her slit as she came. She lifted her wet face from between her son's cheeks and whimpered as her body rocked with pleasure. Zeke's face was flat against the cushion, mouth open, drool pooling.

*

"Oh my god," Maeve cried out as her pussy let forth a stream of warm fluid, it splashed against the floor. She rubbed her cunt even harder.

"Tasting your son really sent you over the edge."

"It was so delicious."

"Look at you now," Harrington assisted. "Rubbing away shame, letting your disgust puddle on my floor."

She continued to rub and looked at Harrington's cock. "Please," she begged for it. "Please."

"Not just yet. There is more to tell."

*

Once her orgasm faded, she fell back, sitting on the floor. Her heart thrummed with lust, fighting against an instinct that told her she should be disgusted with herself. She stood, pulling the blanket down over her son's ass. She felt as though she was losing her mind, unable to rationalize against her base desires.

She shuffled back to the bedroom. The bathroom door was ajar, and her husband stood over the toilet, letting a stream of potent piss flow. She pushed through the door and began kissing his lips. He kissed back but pushed her gently away.

"You taste like balls," he grunted.

She ignored him and got on her knees.

"I'm trying to piss."

She grabbed his hips and forced him to turn towards her. She was doused in a hot stream of sour piss. It poured over her chin, neck, and tits. The heat of it, the almost rancid smell, made her shiver with desire.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Her husband barked, but he did not turn back to the toilet. Instead, he pissed harder, watching her squirm beneath his baptism. "God, when did you get so fucking slutty?" He reached down and gripped her hair. The act, very much out of character for him, set Maeve's desires ablaze. "I've always wanted to try something," he growled, lifting her by the hair and bending her against the sink. His cock was rock solid and still fountaining rank piss. He positioned himself behind her, drenching her back in a wet heat before lowering his fountaining cock against her pussy slit and pushing all five inches into her.

Her husband's hot piss filled her. It began to flow out around his cock, running down her thighs. He thrusted, fucking her savagely. Maeve screamed, already orgasming from the heat and pressure of his piss. Her husband continued ramming her and piss showered around the bathroom. He grunted and pumped a load into her soaking cunt. He pushed away from her, her spent pussy spilling with piss and cum.

"Fuck, what was that?" He panted.

Maeve continued leaning against the sink, looking at her reflection. She felt after-nut clarity and a cold wave of guilt for the first time today.

"You good?" Her husband asked as he stepped into the shower.

"Y-yeah...just wore out." Maeve lied.

"Well, let's rinse off, and then we'll towel all this up." He motioned to the wet tiled floor and closed himself behind the curtain shower.

Maeve felt close to panic. She grabbed a towel and dabbed off. Maeve left the bathroom and pulled on joggers and a t-shirt. She located her cell phone under her pillow and dialed Doctor Hadad.

"Emergency," she panted at the automated answering machine. The line transferred itself and began to ring again.

"Hadad," a smooth voice panted over a slapping sound. "Emergency line."

"I think I'm having a psychotic break," Maeve whined.

-

Hadad had asked a series of questions, and she got him to agree, after much whining, to see her at his office. She hung up and loaded into her car as soon as he agreed. On the way, she texted her husband.

DECIDED TO TAKE A RUN AND BURN OFF THIS CRAZY ENERGY. GOING TO THE PARK. SHOULDN'T BE LONG.

The drive was a short one. Maeve pulled into the small lot, quickly parked her car, and paced the front door of the Victorian home. Hadad's car pulled up a few minutes later. He stepped out, his brown curly hair slightly disheveled. A short but lithe man in his thirties. He flashed her a dazzling smile that complimented his dark complexion. A rumpled polo had been pulled over his tight body; his sweats made it obvious he was going commando. The front of his gray pants hugged a fat bulge that swung with each step. Maeve's eyes locked onto the bulge, and her clarity faded.

He stepped past her, his nose twitching as he caught a smell, and keyed the front door open.

"Please," he offered, holding an arm out towards the open door. His sleeve hugged an enticing bicep. Maeve nodded and stepped in. Hadad retook the lead and escorted her down a long hallway. They passed a dark, wooden door with a plaque that read Felix Harrington, MD. and continued past a few more plagued doors before reaching one at the end of the hallway that read Ram Hadad, MD.

Hadad keyed at the door before pushing it open and turning on the lights. The room was large and had been converted into a standard examination room. The fluorescent lights fluttered, warming.

"Have a seat," Hadad offered, motioning to the large examination table in the center of the room. Maeve complied and sat. The hygienic paper crinkled underneath her.

"Okay," Hadad pulled up a chair beside her. "Now, please tell me what is going on."

-

When she finished recanting what had happened, the last few weeks of hypersexuality gathering into the incident with her son, Hadad's face was calm, and a slight turn at the corner of his lips radiated empathy and kindness. Maeve's eyes lowered, and Hadad's hard cock, pressed against his thigh, bulging his pants. Again, Maeve wanted nothing more than to taste it. She estimated it had to be at least seven and a half to eight inches.