Houston II Ch. 07-08byParis Waterman©
Argie's Unusual Patient & John's Peculiar Conquest
Chapter 7 and 8
A week later, at Dr. Coughlin's, Argie has quit her boring real estate broker job to start albeit slowly, working as a therapist under the tutoring of not only Dr. Coughlin, but his strikingly beautiful assistant, Vanna Bright.
"You're doing very well, from what I've seen," Vanna told an ebullient Argie Franck.
Argie had just finished counseling a young man with erection problems, but hadn't had sex with him yet.
"I just wish that I could be of more help to him,' she said.
"It takes time and familiarity, Argie. Please keep that foremost in mind when dealing with patients.
"Time, of course," Argie repeated, trying to memorize Vanna's advice as she had so many other tidbits and pieces of information since starting at Dr. Coughlin's.
"I'd also like you to talk with a former therapist, who is also married. She . . . I'm sorry, her name is Nadine, but we all call her Naddie," Vanna shrugged, and then wiped a stand of dark hair from where it hung just over her eye.
"She can help you with her perspective on dealing with sexual therapy with one's spouse."
"I don't have a problem in that regard," Argie said quickly.
"I know, I know," Vanna replied. "But it is early in the game. Things happen . . . that I can
"Like . . ." Argie said, hoping to elicit a response with more meaning to it.
"Talk to Naddie, dear, she'll be very helpful. Here's her number. She should be available this morning," with that said, Vanna waltzed away into Dr. Coughlin's office.
'He'll have her pants off in thirty seconds,' Argie told herself, as she headed to a phone in a corner office that would afford her a modicum of privacy.
Naddie picked up on the third ring. Argie and she hit it off right from the start. Initially, she was too clinical in her approach to the therapy sessions, but as the conversation developed, she revealed that she loved the sexual aspects of the job even more than the clinical parts.
Of course, Argie thought she felt much the same, although she had yet to have sex with any client. Despite this, the two women quickly bonded.
When Naddie confessed that she kept her husband informed, and that he "Got off knowing I'm having sex with other guys," Argie nearly got off herself. She resolved to tell John about some of her encounters, but not all. Certainly not those with Dr. Coughlin, which she hoped would be often.
Argie was jolted from her sexual daydream when Naddie told her just how much she was making working for Dr. Coughlin.
"Did I hear you say $3000 a month?" Argie gasped.
"Yeah, right, and for only forty hours, well mostly, sometimes I work, if you want to call it work, a bit longer. But never over 50 hours in a single month."
"Wow!" Argie gasped, as visions of sugarplums danced in her head.
"Some patients, or should I say, clients are generous themselves. For instance, last week was my birthday and Jerry . . . oops, Mr. X., brought me some really sexy underwear. Of course, I modeled it for him, and then he fucked me. I kept the outfit on for the rest of the day, and showed them to Mickey . . . that's my hubby, as soon as he got home. He especially liked the gooey spot on my panties from the guy's cum. He made me tell him exactly how it got there. Then he added a gooey spot of his own."
"He doesn't get jealous?" Argie asked.
"No. In fact he loves it. It always gets him excited. Whenever I get fucked by a client I can always count on getting fucked again that night by Mickey. It's like a double-header. And, once I got laid by two different clients. So I get home and shared the news with Mickey. He's so horny he gave it to me twice in a row.
"Wow!" Argie exclaimed, "I find it hard to believe that you tell your husband everything. I've only hinted about what I'm doing to my guy."
"I understand Argie," Naddie said. "I felt the same way until Mickey found out I'd been having an affair. This was before I started working for Dr. Coughlin. In fact, Mickey caught me with a neighbor in our own bed. I thought he'd be furious. Instead, as soon as the guy ran out the door, Mickey jumped my bones. I got fucked like I've never been fucked before. He said he didn't understand it himself, but he got very turned on seeing me with another man. Now he wants to watch me with my clients, but I don't think that's a good idea."
Knowing Naddie had reached some form of agreement with her husband, Argie pushed the envelope, asking, "So how have you resolved that?"
"We haven't yet. But if the right situation comes up, we'll do it. We talked about it a couple times and we're both fine with the idea."
"That's incredible," Argie said, "I envy you."
"Your husband isn't the jealous type is he, Argie?"
"Well, yes and no. He's been seeing other women forever. He's kept it secret of course, but I found this tape . . . a kind of diary he started for his shrink, and found out about all of them. He didn't like it though when I went out and found myself a guy."
"How many women did he have?"
"Dozens, maybe a hundred or more, I'm not sure. The parts I listened to left off when he was in college."
"Don't get mad at me, but if you didn't know, were you fucking around too?"
"No. That started afterward. I let a guy pick me up, and we started seeing each other a couple, three times a week. I blew up at him one day, his name is John by the way, and confronted him. We went to see the shrink together, and he joined Sex Addicts Anonymous afterward to try making amends. "
"Sounds like he's trying," Naddie said.
"Trying my ass," Argie cried out, her voice raising an octave or two. "He told me he screwed some bitch at his first meeting. But we're talking, and trying to get through the whole mess without getting divorced. I do love him and really believe he loves me too."
"So you joined Dr. Coughlin to get even, huh?"
"Not to get even. I want to understand his so called compulsion, and that's going to take time. I wanted to get even somehow, you know, what's good for the goose . . . anyway, it was John's shrink put me onto being a therapist while we were discussing how I might better cope with his problem. Can you beat that?"
"My exact words."
"You know, we should have lunch. Can you make it tomorrow?" Naddie asked.
"I guess . . . sure, why not? Where do you want to meet?"
"Do you like Farber's?"
"Mmmm, yeah, I love their chicken salad," Argie gushed.
"Farber's it is. How does noon sound?"
"its fine, I'm not working tomorrow."
Naddie laughed, "I know, I am."
Argie was laughing too as she responded. "That figures, okay, tomorrow at noon, shall I ask for Naddie?"
"Yes, I'll make a reservation in my name, and tell them to expect you.
John was as horny as he'd ever been. He wanted to take one of the kids into the backroom, but decided against it. There had been too many rumors going around about him and the underage kids. The older women were a royal pain in the ass. They all thought he was going to leave Argie for them. They were nuts if they thought that. He loved Argie and she loved him. They were going to figure a way to deal with his problem. Hadn't she become a sex therapist for that reason?"
Felicia's body came to mind, and he made his decision. He called her; found that she was home and glad to hear from him.
"I can be there in twenty minutes," he said.
"Hurry, I'm leaking with anticipation," she moaned into the phone. His erection bulged in his trousers. Covering his front with a newspaper, he made a feeble excuse to his assistant manager and left for Felicia's.
For the first time, Argie was comfortable and not fidgeting after arriving at the therapist's office. She looked at the file folder laid out on her desk and smiled. As she began reading the case history, her mind wandered back to earlier that week and how each patient passing her desk had caused her to fantasize about their cocks; and what she might do to ensure they became hard as steel were she their caseworker. She imagined them entering her, and before she knew it, her panties were soaked. She looked around, with an apprehension that everyone else knew of her predicament, then made for the ladies room and relieved herself by masturbating.
Soon after she had returned to her office, Vanna walked into Argie's office with a file folder. "I have something for you to read. If, after reading it, you want no part of it, just say so. On the other hand, if you think you can deal with this particular subject . . . please let me know ASAP."
Argie nodded, although not fully comprehending, and reached out for the file.
"I should tell you," Vanna added, as she carefully studied Argie, "this one is highly unusual. The doctor and I won't be put out if you feel you have to decline. But, I think taking this particular assignment will help you as much as it does the patient."
Vanna left and Argie began to read the file. The patient had apparently spent most of his life until recently, encased in an iron lung.
"Holy shit, Batman!" she thought. "What the fuck did I let myself in for?"
But as she read on, she was filled with pity for the man in question. It was evident that he was filled with psychological problems as pertained to his repulsive body --- at least that's how the psychologist phrased it in medical terminology. The patient's name was Harold, and Harold felt a potential lover would be horrified at seeing his pale, thin body with its bent spine, bent neck, washboard ribcage, and hipbones protruding like outriggers. Harold's second problem was with the cost of the surrogate's service. He had little money to spare, with almost every penny he earned from government handouts going for medical treatment and medicines.
Argie saw a scrawled notation by Dr. Coughlin, "Pro Bono," which she knew was a legal term that meant he was performing the service free of charge. Another line she managed to decipher as: "Use as a training exercise." 'Not for him,' she thought. 'but for me; or another one of his surrogate's.'
'So that's how I got this assignment,' Argie told herself. The fact that the doctor wanted to help Harold helped change Argie's perspective even more. Now she was determined to help him, no matter how horrifying his appearance. She was a mother, had raised three healthy children, and that experience would aid her in dealing with Harold's "problems."
Argie poured over Harold's records, read with interest as he explained his feelings about sex, his fantasies, his self-loathing, and his interest in seeing a surrogate. He was matter-of-fact in stating he knew it would never be easy for him to find a lover because of his disability.
She closed the file, sighed, reached for the phone, and dialed Harold's number.
"Hello, Harold. This is Argie."
He knew without having to ask that it was the surrogate. "R.G? You use initials?"
"No, no," Argie said laughing, "I have a rather unusual name. Its spelled A.R.G.I.E., pronounced "RG". I have an opening this morning, would that be convenient for you?"
"Well, I know the sooner the better, but I'm not alone at the moment."
"Oh, I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. I should have realized . . ."
No, no. I want to see you as soon as possible. Look can you call me back in, say . . . thirty minutes? We can talk then. "
"Certainly, I'll call back in half an hour, Harold."
When Argie called back, they fenced over where they should meet. Argie realized that with Harold's condition, he was not about to hop on a bus and come to her. So she asked him to set the parameters for their meeting.
She was embarrassed to learn that everything had been arranged to provide them with the most discreet arrangements possible under the circumstances. They would meet at the home of a trusted friend
There was another woman waiting for John at Felicia's. She wore a kimono over a slim, petite frame. She had almost no breasts; but a ravishing smile on wide, red lips, and expressive, wanton eyes, that seemed to devour him.
Felicia, wearing a matching kimono, said, "John, this is Norma. I didn't mention her on the phone. I thought that . . . well, two insatiable women might have kept you away."
"I doubt that," he said. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Norma."
"Likewise," the slim woman said, her eyes roaming his body with undisguised hunger. He realized that she too was addicted to sex, possibly even more than Felicia.
Felicia cleared her throat, as she decided how to begin. She looked at John and said, almost inanely, "I love your tan, I wish I could tan like that, but I can't," she arched her eyebrows, "Doctor's orders."
"I know," he smiled, "Besides don't you spend most of your time indoors?"
Felicia laughed. "Forgotten our adventure in the park already?"
"Not on your life. I'm sorry. It's just . . . well; I'm not really prepared for intelligent conversation at the moment."
"Neither are we,' Norma said quickly, nervously." In fact, my panties are getting damp. I hate it when they cling to me. "
John's eyes widened with pleasure as the petite brunette's hands went under her kimono and deftly removed her underwear. She handed her panties to him and instinctively, John brought them to his nose.
"Feel how soggy they are," Norma said, and then with an obscene lilt, "Take another good whiff, Johnny-Boy."
He did so, slightly annoyed at her calling him Johnny-Boy; then tossed the panties at Felicia, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Both women watched intently. Felicia licked her lips in anticipation.
"You girls do one another?" he asked out of curiosity. Women when aroused will admit to many things they would normally keep hidden away.
"What?" Felicia asked, not having heard him clearly as she was focused on the bulge protruding from his crotch.
"I asked if you two went down on each other."
"We entertain ourselves, Johnny-Boy," Norma said, "Like the old sailor once said, 'any port in a storm, eh, sailor?"
"I'm not a sailor," he said, as his trousers crumpled around his ankles and he kicked them away. He stood there in shoes, socks and skimpy silk, black bikini underwear.
"Who's the top, when you munch each other's carpet?"
"If you must know," Norma said, "we take turns."
"You take turns, eh? Well, take my shoes off, Norma," he said, for some reason liking the sound of her name as he pronounced it.
Norma agilely dropped to her knees, and lifting one leg at a time, removed his socks and shoes.
"Good, you want first dibs on my skivvies?"
Norma was breathing heavily as she replied. "Yes."
But as she reached up to pull them down, he stepped away from her and said, "Aw, too fuckin' bad. You weren't quick enough."
John noted the glitter in Norma's eyes immediately after he had refused her. He assumed correctly that Norma had been someone's slave, and not too long ago.
The skimpy bikini briefs he wore barely covered his crotch. Both women's nipples had hardened into pebbled points, easily evident through the soft silky material of the twin kimonos they wore.
Norma's attention was riveted to the head of his cock, still contained within the wisp of black silk. Felicia's immediate attention was on the manner in which his balls seemed to be sagging so heavily in his briefs. Neither woman could tear their eyes from him.
"Show her . . . please," Felicia whispered. John looked at her and shrugged. A moment later he peeled the silky briefs away to reveal his erection to both of them. "Magnificent!" Norma exclaimed quietly. "You were right about him having a wonderful endowment, Leech."
Felicia did not reply to her friend, but continued to stare at John's erection. For the record, his cock was large, but not extraordinary in size. Measured, it would have come in at eight and a half inches; with a generous thickness, especially along the center of the shaft. It was his innate ability to remain hard; to perform time after time, his gift, or curse of the Satyriasis that drove him to conquest after conquest, often wearing his female partner to a frazzle before tiring himself.
"Lose the kimonos," he said, his voice already raspy with sexual overtone. As one, both women shrugged off the silken robes and stood wordlessly in their nudity before him.
As John had suspected, Norma was flat-chested, with large brown areola, centered with thick, rubbery nipples that had been stretched to a length of over an inch and a half.
"Some nips you got, Norma," he said, without thinking.
"She was mistreated," Felicia volunteered without being asked.
"Tell him, sweetie," Felicia said kindly.
"I . . . I was a slave." Norma said this as though if explained everything succinctly.
"And . . ." John said, leading her toward a more amplified answer.
"I . . . um . . ." Norma found herself unable to continue.
"Have a little suck on my dick, maybe that will loosen your tongue," he told her.
He was surprised with the alacrity Norma used in pouncing upon his erection, and drawing it into her soft mouth. He allowed her to tongue his cock for perhaps a minute before gently taking it from her mouth and holding in his hand, tapping it against her open lips.
"No more sucking until you tell me about being a slave."
John!" Felicia said, protesting his actions, "I thought we'd have a nice fuck here. Don't do this to her, please?"
"Its okay, Leech, the petite brunette said quietly. "What do you want to know?"
"Tell me how you got started."
"Felicia, while she's talking, how about some nice head?"
Felicia slowly sank to her knees in front of him, and cupping his balls in one hand, used the other to direct his length to her mouth.
Harold's caregiver dressed him, put him into his wheelchair, and pushed him to his life long friend Ned's apartment, which was next to his. Harold did not want this R.G., to see the horde of medical apparatus that sustained his frail body day after day; at least not on her first visit.
He became increasingly apprehensive. What if she took one look at his deformed body and fled? He imagined her saying 'Oh, I'm terribly sorry, but I can't do this . . .' Polite or not, it would destroy him.
He fought off his apprehension by running over what Argie had told him earlier. The first hour would involve an in depth interview. Following that she would introduce him to a series of "body awareness" exercises. He had not asked what this involved, but had given his approval to them.
As the time of Argie's arrival approached, Harold felt as if his executioner was about to arrive. His caretaker, Maude reassured Harold it would be all right, and placed him on Ned's double bed. Since it was difficult for Harold to turn his head to the left, Ned and the caretaker pushed him to the left side of the bed in order that Argie might lie next to him and Harold might be able to see her.
Then Maude put the hose of his portable respirator near Harold's mouth, in case he needed air. Harold insisted on it because he had never been outside the respirator for more than an hour without needing to use the portable respirator. He was all set. His friend and caretaker left him to wait on the front steps for the surrogate to arrive.
A minute passed before Harold glanced at the noncommittal green numerals flashing on the nearby digital clock. 11:04:30. Argie was late. 11:07:43. 11:11:00.
'Oh, God, she wasn't coming! She'd changed her mind! She couldn't bring herself to face him!'
11:14:55. "Oh, God!" he moaned aloud. Five seconds later there was a light knock on the front door.
"Come in!" Harold yelled, surprising himself with the volume and timbre of his usually weak voice.