Porn Therapy

'Oh, God."

Pat moved to her side, pulled her stool over and sat on it, leaning into her pressing her face into Gloria's fabulous softness.

Gloria was still watching the screen but she put a hand on Pat's head and applied pressure, perhaps remembering last night, downward pressure. But Pat resisted and concentrated on the breast she was holding in both hands; she licked and sucked and bit at the nipple, loving the salty taste, loving the moans that now escaped Gloria's gapping lips. Her nipples were rock hard now, she wasn't going to last so Pat reached into the nearby drawer and pulled out a long, thin pink dildo and handed it to Gloria then took her nipple back in her mouth and sucked hard.

Pat waited for her to react, to push down her pants and panties. But she didn't. She sucked harder but still nothing so she pulled away and looked at Gloria thinking she had lost the plot. "What's the matter?"

"Where's the switch?" There was a funny panic in her voice.

"Twist it," Pat said as she latched back onto Gloria's rubbery mammary, now coated with Pat's spit and she heard it burst into life, felt Gloria push down her pants, felt her sit up to remove them with her panties and felt her slide down on the chair and heard the buzzing sound weaken as she slid it into her pussy.

It took no longer than a minute before Gloria's moans turned to cries, before she stretched her legs as wide as she could and brought her knees up trying to heighten the sensation. And then she humped at it, humped out her final cry to slumped spent into the chair.

The older man on the screen was in the young woman now, her knees were spread wide, she was crying erotically. But Gloria wasn't watching, she was panting, her great breasts where heaving, she was looking at the buzzing vibrator slick with her cum.

Pat took it from her, twisted it off and put it on the table in front of the computer then went behind her and leaned into her lifting Gloria's breasts and squeezing them playfully. "Well?" Pat asked, kissing her in the neck.

"Fuck me," Gloria laughed.

Pat squeezed her breasts again. "Fun, eh?"

"And you've been doing that for a year?"

"Over a year. I've got a head full of images that can crank me up in no time."

"Jesus." Gloria was struggling to sit up; she was too weak to do it easily. Pat helped her and when Gloria was sitting she turned and said, "I think I've always wanted that experience; I've always wanted an old dude to do me. God, that was great. It felt sort of like the real thing."

"It's our imagination. It can work wonders. Had enough?"

Gloria looked Pat as if I was nuts. "No!" she laughed.

Pat quickly took her clothes off and pulled Gloria onto the floor where they sat down facing each other and Pat leaned into Gloria and kissed her as she brought her fingers gently between her legs.

They lay back on the floor after their orgasms and dreamed a bit. Finally, Pat asked. "So, do you have a verdict yet?"

Gloria was quiet for a bit. "What happens? Is it the endorphins or something, something chemical in the body that gets triggered?"

Pat laughed, "I could care less, Gloria. I just want the trigger."

"Ya, no kidding." She leaned over on her side and looked at Pat. "But is it scary, too? I mean, can you get hooked on this stuff?"

"Yep. Half the nation is hooked on porn, but is that a bad thing? I don't think so because the other half is living without it and which would you rather have?"

"A balance." Gloria responded, reasonably.

"Ya, me, too. I've got Mike, you've got Artie, we got that balance."

"And each other, it appears." Gloria was clearly wary of this, there was a great deal of caution in her voice.

Pat sat up and reached for her clothes. "Don't worry about it, Gloria, don't spend a moment's thought on it. If it's there and we want it, we'll take it. If it isn't I'm entire cool with that."

Gloria stood up while Pat slipped on her panties. "Cool is a good work, Pat. You are unbelievable fucking cool. I don't know where all this came from in you but I can't thank you enough for it."

Pat chuckled and waved at the computer. "There, and what are good friends for?"

Pat got up, sat on the stool and completed dressing. Gloria was in no hurry. She hit another thumbnail and inspected the dildo.

"Take it," Pat said, "I have another."

"Really?" Gloria looked at it again, confused. "What does Mike think of this, what will Artie?"

"Who cares? It's none of their business."

Gloria was a study in innocence as she stood there looking at her new toy. She is big, big thighs, hips, belly, big ass, big breasts but all these over-blown characteristic work on her, she looks fabulously fuckable, you just want to reach out and touch her, feel her hot, wet skin, her wonderful folds, you want your tongue on her, you want to hear her purr.

Gloria's underwear was pink and lacy and sexy. As she was putting them on Pat thought she might be able to help Artie out — he had told Mike that Gloria had caught him in her underwear a few years ago and totally freaked out. "Now there's a pair of panties Mikey could really get into."

Gloria didn't know what Pat meant at first but when she figured it out she was clearly confused.

"Really?"

"They're sexy and they're hiding a pretty sexy pussy. Mikey would just love to slip those on."

Gloria appeared slightly shocked. "He wears them?"

"All men slip them on from time to time, why not? They're sexy."

Gloria seemed to contemplate this, then said, "How much of sex is visual, do you think? I mean, underwear, porn ... all the rest of it."

"Is it visual or is it mental?" Pat asked. "Those panties would turn Mike on a lot more knowing they were yours than they would thinking they were, I don't know, Harriett's?"

Gloria laughed at the image of a mutual friend. "Thanks."

Pat got her thoughts together. "What was your cum all about? Was it visual? What was happening on the screen? Or were you imagining being fucked by an older man?"

She thought about this for a moment. "Ya, I get your point but the porn really helped, you were right about that, too."

They were in the kitchen, Gloria was at the door when she handed Pat her laptop. "Hold this a sec," she said, then she quickly pushed down her pants and wiggled out of her panties. She held them out to Pat with a smirk. "My best to Mikie."

she laughed, took them, waited for her to get her pants back on and was about to give her back the computer when it occurred to her. "Aren't they a set?"

It took Pat a moment. "He wants the bra, too?"

Pat watched her quickly take off her shirt and remove the bra. When she handed it to Pat, she said. "Man, do I ever have a lot to learn."

"Do you want to?" asked Pat, with hope in her eyes.

Gloria laughed, put an arm across her chest to hold up her breasts and leaned in to give Pat a peck on the lips. "I've had more fun in the last ... what? 12 hours than I'd ever think possible. I don't know where it's going and I'm finding that a little scary but do I want to go? God, yes." She opened the door and was laughing when she left.

We were in bed by 10:15. I beat her, but only by second. If you want an image to propel you into action, a naked Gloria kissing my wife with their fingers between each other's legs was a pretty good place to start.

And maybe Pat held that image, too because she was at least as ready as I was, maybe more so. But she also had more restrain. And she needed it. When I lunged for her she pushed me away. "We have to talk first. It's important. It's about Janice."

It's the way she said it, it sounded serious, like a car accident. I must have gone ashen.

"No, no, nothing to worry about but it's something you need to know. Something important. Something very ... ah, Janice."

I turned on my side to face her, relieved and interested, but still worried. 'A Janice' isn't necessarily a good thing.

"This is a long story," she reached over and gave my still-erect pecker a little tug, "but I'll make short. You'll have a million questions that I can't answer. You'll have to ask her, OK? Ready? It's ... amazing!"

Janice has this friend she has known since high school, Lynne Shallows. They've seen quite a lot of each other over the past three years; they've become best friends — I, of course, had never heard of her, nor had Pat.

Late this afternoon Janice called Pat. They talked for an hour. Janice, as only Janice can, explained that she had been going through a difficult time trying to sort something out.

Her problem, as Pat, and to some extent I, had suspected, was sexual: Janice thought she was either sexually indifferent or sexually ambiguous, she didn't know which — "she was explaining this over the phone for God's sake." Sex, Janice had concluded, didn't matter to her. But she was wrong.

"Why wrong? What's changed?" asked Pat, innocently.

"Porn," she said, immediately.

"Porn?"

"A few of the pictures you showed me that night, got to me. That's why I got so ... horny."

"What were the pictures?" I asked, feeling a little self-disgust that we were actually talking about my porn here, not just porn — it felt like I had been stripped bare.

"It's Lynne, Mike. Janice has made a commitment to her."

The words just hung there "What commitment?"

Here was the Janice-ism: Lynne and Janice have been close and getting closer. Lynne wanted them to be inseparable. Janice discovered she wanted that, too but could she do it? Janice explained that they have never had sex, Janice had always been afraid of it. What would happen if she didn't like being with her? Would their friendship be over? Just because of sex? Was it worth the risk? No, so she continued to resist Lynne, as she had for years. But they were at a point where they had to make a decision. Lynne couldn't continue. Janice had to find out.

"That's why she had sex with me. She wanted to find out what it was like to be with a woman. Janice being Janice she naturally thought I could show her. And that's why she had sex with you. She had to know what it was like to have sex with a man. Perfectly Janice."

I was fascinated, of course. I was straining to understand when there was a loud shout downstairs. We both sat bolt upright. When it happened again we knew it was Janice but it was anything but Janice's style. She sounded drunk. We quickly put on our bathrobes and hurried down the stairs.

They were in the kitchen, Janice with her bum in the air and her head in the fridge. And there was an absolutely stunning woman leaning against the counter watching her.

Janice came out with a corked bottle of wine and saw us. She raised the bottle high over her head. "Good. Glad you're here. We're celebrating."

"What?" I asked, in near shock, I had never seen Janice even mildly tipsy before.

The woman laughed. "She never drinks. That'" she pointed with some considerable destain, "is on two glasses of wine. She has the metabolism of a tsetse fly."

Janice had put the bottle on the table and was pulling out wine glasses. Without another word she concentrated on half-filling the glasses. Then she unsteadily handed one to each of us.

She saluted the woman. "This," she announced, "is Lynne Shallows and we are officially a couple." She saluted more dramatically. "To the groom."

It didn't surprise me that Janice was gay, didn't surprise me in the least, but her behaviour shocked me, it was so over-the-top for her, so entirely out of character — God, maybe the girl actually had a pulse, maybe she had a chance.

Pat was first to react. She flew over to Lynne and hugged her, I mean hugged her as if she had waited for this moment all her life. When she let her go I knew it was my turn but I found myself rooted to the floor. I just wasn't ready for any of this and I knew I wasn't reacting well.

But Lynne was. She came over and stood in front of me, just inches away. "I'm sorry Mr. Fletcher, I didn't plan this, it happened, I've been in love with your daughter for 6 years; she's been in love with me for two days. Maybe she'll change her mind."

"Fat fucking chance," said our lovely little bride. She grabbed Lynne by the arm. "And we're going to bed!"

Pat and I cleaned up soundlessly, each with our own thoughts. When we walked back to our bedroom we ignored the ruckus in Janice's room. Curiously, Pat brought the bottle of wine with her, with no glasses.

"Who knew?" I said as I got into bed.

Pat got in beside me and snuggled into me. "Everyone but you."

"You knew?"

"I found out today. I was telling you. Janice phoned this afternoon and told me. Told me that once she had sex with me and then with you she knew for sure. She had sex with Lynne last night."

"Jesus, Pat. What does that have to do with us?"

"A lot. She would never have consummated her relationship with Lynne without first experimenting with sex and, Janice being Janice, that meant experimenting with us. The girl, in case you didn't know, had never been touched before and never wanted to be."

"She was a virgin?"

"Blood-on-the-sheet virgin."

This wasn't making the least bit of sense, but then, when it came to Janice and until oh so recently, Pat, nothing much ever did make sense with her or any of the Smithers women for that matter. "So she found out she's a lesbian." Big surprise, I could have told her that.

Pat chuckled. "No, she found out she's heterosexual, Lynne found out she's a lesbian."

This struck me as a verbal puzzle with a hidden meaning. As I mulled over this cryptic answer Pat reached over to her night stand, retrieved the bottle of wine then turned and reached under my pillow and came out with some underwear. She dropped the panties on my chest and said, "Here hold this."

It was a light pink bra with dainty lace and enormous cups. "Gloria's?" It had to be.

"Hold it up."

Clearly she wanted to pour the wine into the cups so, reacting before she poured the wine on me, I held the cups steady as she poured into them.

"It's the porn, Mike, honest to God that stuff can just bring out the passion and compassion in you."

The wine was starting to drip through the fabric.

"When Janice and I were looking at your porn that day we looked at a variety of your sites. I kind of showed her what was available like I did with Gloria. Gloria was fascinated most by the Old-Young sites. Not Janice. Janice spent a good two hours looking not just at the bodies but into the eyes, too of all the women in your database. Do you know what database it was?"

I was starring at the dripping cups, imagining, frankly, what so recently vacated them and only half-listening to Pat. "What?" I said, obligingly.

"The He-She."

She pinched the little red rose between the cups and a great splash of wine hit my face the moment her word made sense to me.

And then there was a voice at the door. "Daddy?"