tagNovels and NovellasHouston II Ch. 01

Houston II Ch. 01

byParis Waterman©

Chapter 1.

Sex Addict's Anonymous

"So there you have it, doc. I mean, Argie and me, we kinda made up, ya know?"

Dr. Gladstone: "No, I don't. Why don't you tell me how you made up, John?"

"Um, okay. She, um, found out about my extra curricular stuff, but you know that, right?"

Dr. Gladstone: "Yes, we've been over that earlier. Please continue."

"So she found this guy and screwed his brains out to get even."

Dr. Gladstone: "Do you think she got even?"

"Hell no, but she got a taste, you know? A nice taste if you ask me."

Dr. Gladstone: "You didn't object to her . . . having intercourse with another man?"

"Actually no, I mean at first I was pissed. But when I thought about it . . . well, it seemed fair, and I looked at it as a means of making up with her."

The doctor waited patiently and after a moment, John continued.

"The fact is we had lunch . . . Argie and me. I can't say how relieved I was to hear her say "the marriage isn't dead." He avoided mentioning the fact that he'd been pathetic in her presence until she had uttered those very words.

Dr. Gladstone: "That's very promising, John. Anything else?"

"Um, yeah, I admitted that I had a problem with sex to her. I . . . um, because, err, I was desperate, you know?"

He began nibbling at a fingernail, and then said, "So Argie tells me, she's discovered she likes fucking around too.

She says she met this guy . . . I don't know his name. She let him pick her up. They went to a motel . . . do you need to hear all this?"

Dr. Gladstone: "Just what you need to tell me to convey the situation. I don't want to embarrass you."

"Yeah, um, well . . . she says, "I loved the way he did me."

Dr. Gladstone: "A powerful statement. But remember what they say about a woman scorned."

"I didn't scorn her!"

Dr. Gladstone: "Think about it, John."

"All right, all right, maybe I did . . . from her point of view. Anyway, she says, "Our marriage isn't over, but I don't want you running around screwing anything you see."

Then she took me on a fuckin' roller coaster ride, saying, "But I'm not saying you can't see anyone else either. I liked being in bed with this guy, I didn't think I would, but you forced me to find out if I was still attractive to other men."

Dr. Gladstone: "And then?"

"Then she told me I could keep screwing around."

Dr. Gladstone: "She did? Were there any conditions?"

"'Course there was. She says, 'I can do it with . . . whoever, and she'll do it with her boyfriend of the moment."

He paused, and then added, "Said we need to make a schedule so we don't step on one another's toes."

Dr. Gladstone: "So you reached an agreement."

"Um, yeah, we agreed to let each other know, um, you know . . . when we're going with somebody else. Then we went home and jumped each other's bones."

Dr. Gladstone: "Is that where you two left things?"

"Well, she did this fabulous strip. She'd never done nothing like it before. For my part, I pulled out all the stops, had her coming and going. She met herself three times before she straightened out," he said smugly. Anyway, we agreed to take it one day at a time."

Dr. Gladstone: "What about Sex Addicts Anonymous?"

"Oh, right. I promised her I'd look into it. Probably join."

Dr. Gladstone: "That's an excellent idea, John. You'll see the benefits of talking about the problem almost immediately. It will go a long way in convincing Argie of your sincerity."

"Hey doc, what's with the sincerity bit? I mean, Argie as much as told me I could screw anything that walked past me, as long I tell her about it. We even discussed the possibility of having a threesome once in a while."

Dr. Gladstone: "She actually broached that subject?"

"Well, actually I told her that, I'd tolerate her men; and she does the same with respect to my women. She was okay with it; went so far as to say, 'What about broadening the criteria a little?' "

John paused for a moment, then continued, "See, I knew having two men at once was her favorite fantasy, and all."

Dr. Gladstone: [After a long silence] "I see. Well, then, do you have the number for SSA?"


Dr. Gladstone: "Sex Addicts Anonymous."


Dr. Gladstone: [Sound of paper being torn off pad.]

"Here, I'm sure you're going to find it very interesting. Let's be sure to talk about it at our next session."

"Sure, Doc, hey, does that mean our time's up?"

Dr. Gladstone: "I'm afraid so, John."


The next afternoon, twelve hours celibate, John went to a Sex Addict's Anonymous meeting that he'd found in the local newspaper.

There were about eleven people seated as he eased past a rumpled man of about forty years of age and sat down.

A well-dressed man, John guessed was fiftyish was speaking while holding a bible in his left hand.

"Temperance, we are solemnly instructed," the man said, "is the moral virtue that moderates the attraction of pleasures and provides balance in the use of created goods. It ensures the will's mastery over instincts and keeps desires within the limits of what is honorable."

John took a moment to glance at the others in attendance, and noted only two were female, one middle-aged woman; and one in her early thirties.

'I'd fuck her in a New York minute,' he thought,' then turned his attention back to the speaker.

"The temperate person directs the sensitive appetites toward what is good and maintains a healthy discretion," the speaker said with a great deal of emotion.

"Thus what is a temptation to me is of little moment to you; what is gluttony to you is merely gustatory satisfaction to me; what is lust to you is merely natural sexual desire to me. And who is to differentiate the one from the other?"

Once again, John turned his head to study the audience. He was surprised to find all of them listening attentively, and decided to do likewise.

The speaker paused, and then resumed his emotional talk.

"There is likely to be difference of opinion, too, about how many instances of erotic craving constitutes lust. At what point do natural sexual desires turn into disordered, frenetic, and insatiable sexual urge?"

'This guy's a wannabe preacher. Who cares what he thinks?' John thought, and took a furtive glance at the thirtyish woman. She was a brunette, slim, with a modest chest. He couldn't tell if her legs were nice, or if she had a great ass, and decided it didn't matter. She was the only enticing morsel here, and would have to do.

Droning on, as far as John was concerned, the speaker continued: "We might disagree on the number of instances required for us to call a pattern of activity lust—once again, disagreement about degree. But I think we can reach consensus about what lust is—agreement about kind. Those who are governed by their gonads are filled with lust. Lust is defined by one source as the "disordered desire for or inordinate enjoyment of sexual pleasure."

"Although there would be strong dispute in today's world about the exact nature of lust, there is no question but those expressions of lust such as rape will be and must be universally condemned. That is, in essence, the principal point I want to make here: We may well disagree over the precise meanings of what is temperate or intemperate. But in the case of clear and extensive departures from the norm, we remain capable of saying, 'This action is clearly contrary to restraint and to self-control; it is disordered and inordinate. It is wrong.' "

And that was how the speaker left things, clutching the Bible to his chest; he nodded appreciatively, comforted by his own words and sat down.

Almost immediately a man two chairs away from John stood and said, "It's been three months and six days since I drifted over the line. My name is Edmond, and I'm a sex addict."

The group responded as one, saying, "Hello, Edmond."

John gave the man his total attention, wanting to hear from a self-confessed addict.

"Thanks to God and my friends here in this fine organization," Edmond said, "I have found a way to live. I needed help desperately when I got here. I arrived, pretty much like everyone else here: lost, broken, and alone; no plan or direction and really no one in my life who could help me make sense of my life. I'm twenty-seven, probably more boy than man ... a two-bit bartender, a proven loser, with four different kinds of sexually transmitted disease. I've quit promising my family . . . what's left of it . . . to clean my act up, go without sex until the right partner comes along—only to have random sex and begin the craziness again."

"You've all heard me tell my story . . . probably several times over, so I won't do it again today. But I will tell it again and again so I don't forget how bad it can be."

"It's just . . . well, when I hear one of you tell your story I'm suddenly filled with hope and gratitude; and I'm reminded of the changes that occurred in my life, and of the magic in the world—and that's a good thing for this sex addict. Maybe ... I even want to go out and spread a little of that good in the world. Anyway, thanks for being here for me."

Polite applause followed Edmond to his seat. John got up and got himself a cup of coffee, and as he found his chair, the brunette he had been eying, began walking to the podium. John congratulated himself on being right. She had a great ass and well developed legs. She was also very good looking as she stood hesitating before them.

"Hello, my name is Felicia, and I'm a sex addict. I've not had sex for thirteen days now, and that's a new record for me."

"Hello Felicia," the group called out.

"This is the first time I'm telling my story, so please bear with me," she said, her eyes beseeching them for help.

"It all began for me the night my husband and I had another couple, Vic and Linda, over for dinner. I had been married to Mike for six years at the time. There were no children, and I'm sure neither of us had cheated on the other, until that night. But was that cheating? I don't know.

After dinner the conversation turned to certain computer games --- Adult games. We all had had several drinks and it was decided to try one of them. I no longer recall the name of it. It was a variation of strip poker. But one rule was that anyone could call it quits at any point they felt uncomfortable. I volunteered to be the typist. I asked Linda if she wanted to be listed as Straight, Gay or Bi-sexual -- surprisingly, she answered, "Bi-sexual." Vic and Mike both answered "Straight."

I decided that there was no point in only Linda being Bi, because without another Bi or a Gay, there would be no interaction available for her with a woman, so I put myself down as Bi-sexual too. At least, that's what I told myself at the time."

John felt himself stir; his half-lidded eyes roamed Felicia's lithe form, lingering on her breasts, which he would have sworn had nipples that were excited and stiff.

"After about a dozen or so turns, Mike was reduced to his underwear; Vic and Linda had lost their shirts, and I was topless, having forsworn wearing a bra that night. We all had another drink, then Vic said that he was going to blindfold me for several rounds, and then he would take my place, and so on. I giggled nervously. I still recall that, the giggling, I mean; and of course there was no more typing as the game was out of control.

"As he secured the blindfold, Vic fondled my breasts, it startled me. I waited for Mike to say something, but he didn't, and I got the strangest feeling. It was one of elation. I felt I was moving to a new, forbidden threshold. I was very excited, and realized it was probably evident for the others to see. It occurred to me that I didn't care. No, I found that I wanted them to see my excitement, and I parted my legs, knowing this gave them the opportunity to look at my secret place, and the best part was the blindfold kept me from being embarrassed, as I most certainly would have been otherwise.

"I heard Linda say that now everyone needed to strip. Then sounds of kissing, and the rustling of clothing filled the air. Someone kissed me. It was Mike, and I kissed him back. Then he left abruptly, and another mouth found mine, the kiss was soft and sweet --- I knew it had to be Linda. She confirmed it a moment later by pressing her breasts against mine. I'd never been kissed by a woman before, at least not that way. I liked it, and kissed her back. Moments later, someone was behind me, tugging my underwear down.

"Vic was next to kiss me. My mouth opened at the touch of his tongue, and I shuddered when his finger traced over my secret folds. I kicked the undies off my foot, and reached down to cup his balls."

"You're very wet," he said, I thought he sounded objective, scientific, almost.

"She always gets that way when we fool around," Mike offered.

I moaned. Off in the distance, I heard Linda moaning too. I realized that Mike was busy with her, and thought, 'This is going to be a most unusual evening.'

A few short minutes later, Mike said, "Okay, Felicia will be Linda's sex slave for the next few minutes."

"Wait," I protested, but the men picked me up and carried me to the bed and deposited me on my back. Vic was on my left. I knew it was him from the scent of his after shave. Linda's gentle hands parted my thighs. I didn't resist. My husband, kneeling behind my head, fed his dick into my mouth and I sucked him; for he hadn't ejaculated in Linda. Vic took a breast in his hand and fondled it, teasing the nipple. I registered all this, but was impatiently awaiting the touch of Linda's mouth on my sex.

I was slightly disappointed when her finger entered me instead. Still and all, I was hot enough, and came after a short time.

"Fuck her, Vic," I heard Linda say, and then felt his weight descending upon me. As he entered me, Mike spurted into my mouth and down my throat. I choked as he kept ramming his dick into my mouth. I tried to swallow, in fact, did swallow some, but not enough. God knows what would have happened if Linda hadn't acted and pulled him from between my lips. I must have coughed continuously as Vic slammed his meat into me.

Finally, I felt him coming in me, and a moment later, he rolled off. I reached for the blindfold, but one of them stopped me.

"I want you to eat me out," Linda said.

Still coughing, but feeling infinitely better, I motioned for her to sit on my face, wanting to get it over with. I had never gone down on a woman before, and to my surprise, I found it neither satisfying nor distasteful. Dutifully I munched away, guided by her cries of rapture.

Halfway through my cunnilingus on Linda, Vic went down on me, and I had the strangest thought that now he was swallowing his own sperm, and I recall giggling like a silly schoolgirl.

"Suck me harder," Linda yelped, and I did. I brought her off, and still blindfolded, found myself getting fucked by both men. Vic wanted to take my ass, but Mike wouldn't allow it, for which I was grateful.

The blindfold came off, and I saw all three dripping with sweat. As for myself, I was sweating too, and had traces of their semen all over my body. Vic and Linda showered and were gone when Mike and I finished up with ours.

That was the beginning. At first I went along not wanting to be a party pooper. I thought it was solidifying my marriage. I was introduced to several other men; even caught the clap from one of them. But I was beginning to like all the sexual variations I encountered week after week. I was a more than willing participant the weekend we spent in Tijuana; offering the whore fifty dollars to let me take her place and fuck the pony. God knows how many men I took on following that act. I didn't care; I loved every minute of it.

Six months later --- I really can't believe it took that long --- Mike divorced me. I had been going off with strangers for days at a time. But it was that dose of gonorrhea that I gave him that did it. He used the photos he'd taken of me in Tijuana with the pony to convince me to give him an uncontested divorce, and I did. I had my job and it paid well; and he left me the apartment.

I found that I had to have sex several times a day. They fired me after missing work once too often. I found I couldn't hold a job. I didn't care, I stopped washing, slept in cardboard boxes after being forcibly evicted, and offered to blow anyone who'd let me; I took on derelicts, hopheads; it didn't seem to matter. One night I was found passed out in the gutter, bleeding my life away. It seems someone; I have no idea who -- shoved something monstrously huge up my vagina causing me to hemorrhage.

The sisters at the Catholic Charities nursed me back to health and after I'd healed, urged me to attend these meetings. I um, think I've talked long enough. Thank you.

Felicia sat down to scattered applause.

John Franck couldn't keep his eyes off Felicia after she'd spoken to the group. He did not volunteer to tell his story, and dawdled after the meeting broke up in order to follow Felicia after she left the building.

She got into a beat-up Nova and drove about twenty blocks to a seedy part of town. He followed at a discreet distance and parked a block behind her. Felicia remained in the Nova for several minutes while John drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, impatiently waiting for her to get out of the car.

What Felicia was doing was repairing her makeup, and when she'd finished she entered a café, sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. John waited outside for several minutes to see if she was meeting someone. Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he entered, sat at the bar and ordered a beer.

He took a long drink to satisfy his thirst, put the glass down and found her looking at him.

"You were there, right?" Felicia said warmly.

"Yeah," he managed to respond, hoping she wasn't too pissed at him.

"You didn't get up did you?"

"I'm up now," he said, and grinned at her.

"So I see," Felicia said, matching his grin with one of her own as she appraised his bulge.

"How long has it been for you?" She asked before finishing her drink.

"Maybe twelve hours. I'm not too good at stopping."

"You're married, right?"

"Yes, I'm married. My wife knows about my . . ."


"Yeah, my affliction," he smiled. "You've been thirteen days without if I recall."

She leaned toward him, licked her lips and said, "You have a place?"

"How about the great outdoors for starters?" John said, brushing imaginary crumbs from his slacks in order to touch himself.

"The park two blocks down?" Felicia asked.

"Perfect place for a picnic, you think?" John said.

"Perfect. Let's go," Felicia said, and dropped a ten on the bar.

John left six dollars, not wanting to leave a twenty, and they walked out into the sunshine and heat.

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