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Having settled comfortably on the therapist's couch, Marge was visibly nervous.

"So let's get started. How are you feeling today, Marge?"

"I guess, okay, Dr. Sigberg. I'm nervous and tired. I didn't get any sleep again last night."

"Can you tell me what kept you awake, Marge?"

"Not really, doctor. You know, I really don't think these therapy sessions are working."

"Marge, it takes time. This is only your third session. Dealing with sexual dysfunction is a lengthy process. If there was a pill like Viagra, it would be easy to give you some relief. There really isn't anything effective now for women. You must be patient. "

"I know, but I'm starting to panic. For heaven sake, Dr. Sigberg, I'm already twenty-four and have no desire to have sex anymore."

"I understand," Marge's therapist said. "Look, you've had a complete physical and you are a perfectly healthy woman. Your hormones are a little out of balance; that's normal at your age. Your weight is excellent. There is nothing wrong physically. I am here to help you emotionally."

"We've been through all that before," Marge anxiously replied.

"Let's take a moment and dial it back a little," her therapist suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"Take a minute to talk about growing up. Talk about your relationship with your father and mother."

"I already told you that I come from a wealthy family. My dad is a lawyer and my mom is a pediatrician. Our neighborhood was in a normal upper class suburban town. I am an only child, so I guess my parents spoiled me a little. I got along fine with both my parents.

"If you wonder about how they approached the subject of sex, they didn't. They are very religious, and sex was an unmentionable topic in our home. Everything I learned about sex came from my girlfriends."

Dr. Sigberg asked, "Did you ever have an urge to be with your boyfriend?"

"You mean, did I have an urge to have sex with him?"

"Yes, that right."

"Of course, but I was only sixteen. He was a nice guy. Sometimes we made out in his car, but we never had sex. We dated until both of us went off to college. That pretty much ended our relationship."

"So you started college as a virgin."

There was a long long silence. Marge didn't answer. Dr. Sigberg waited. Tears began to tumble down Marge's cheeks.

"I can't talk about it, Dr. Sigberg. There are just some things that are private."

"I understand. You know, Marge, you are here to unravel the mystery behind your repressive feelings about sex. If you had a traumatic experience, you need to talk about it."

"I've never told anyone about this, Doctor. People just don't talk about these things."

"In this office, people DO talk about these things. That's why we are here."

"You are going to think I'm a terrible person, Dr. Sigberg."

"I'm not here to judge, Marge. I'm hear to listen and help." Dr. Sigberg handed her a tissue to wipe away her tears.

Reluctantly she said, "Okay, it was in my senior year in high school, and our youth pastor at church was a gorgeous looking guy. All the girls loved him. He was so calm and understanding. At that age, having someone that listens to you and understands is really important. He drew me in like a fly to a spider's web. I really couldn't resist being around him. I think he sensed my attraction to him.

"One day after our weekly bible study, he asked me to join him in the office. I was really thrilled to be with him alone, and be singled out above the other girls. In the office, he told me how I had matured into a beautiful woman, and that God was pleased by my devotion to the Lord. He gave me a big hug and a small kiss on the cheek. I guess I hugged me a little too hard. That's when he kissed me on my lips. It made me a little scared. The thing is, I'd never had a real open mouth kiss before, but I returned his kiss like I'd seen in the movies.

"Only it didn't stop there. He touched my breasts, and said how lovely they were. He said he would like to see them one day. You know, Dr. Sigberg, I was a good girl, so I backed away even though it excited me. That night, I dreamed about being with him, not sexually, but holding hands and having long walks.

"The next week we were in his office again. This time we embraced, and kissed in a way that some say is indecent. It's just that I couldn't help myself. He must have felt my heart beating wildly through my blouse when he unbuttoned it. I didn't care. I wanted to show him my breasts.

"You might not know this but a young girl who had acquired a woman's breasts is really proud of them. So, I unfastened my bra to show them off.

"The pastor cupped both of my breasts holding them to his lips. He was sucking on my nipples in a way that turned me on. It was such a lovely new feeling. I could feel my panties getting wet, thinking I was peeing in them.

"Finally I said, 'I have to go. My mom is expecting me for dinner.' I really didn't want to go, but I needed some time to think.

"The school was on spring break, so our family went to Florida for a week. I had a lot of time to think in Florida, and that is all I thought about. I thought about his kisses. I thought about his lips on my nipples. I though about how wet it made me.

"I hadn't seen the youth pastor for two weeks when we were back in his office. He told me he had missed me. I said I had missed him. We hugged and kissed again with that illicit kiss. Here is where it gets hard for me to continue."

Dr. Sigberg said, "It's been an hour. How about if you formulate your thoughts and when you come back, we'll continue with this. Marge, one more thing. I suggest you buy yourself a few sex toys. You might find them helpful with your insomnia. You won't need a prescription."

Marge laughed and said, "Thank you, doctor. I'll see you again in two weeks."

The two weeks went by slowly for Marge. On one hand, she wanted to tell Dr. Sigberg the whole story and how horny she felt. On the other, it was way too embarrassing. Most of the time, she thought of ways to make it sound less perverse. There was really no way to sugar coat it. Finally she decided to tell it just like it happened.

In the meantime, Marge visited the adult book story and brought home a vibrator and a dildo. She experimented at night hoping they would help her get a little rest. She was back in the therapist's office on a sunny Wednesday afternoon.

Dr. Sigberg greeted her. "You look rested today, Marge. Have the sex toys helped?"

"Yes, I think so, a little."

"So where did we leave off last time?"

"Sort of in the middle. Okay, Dr. Sigberg, I've thought it over. It isn't pretty, but this is how it happened."

"I'm glad to hear that, Marge." He sounded condescending, yet she was determined to go through with her story.

"After Florida, I was with the youth pastor in his office again. Everyone had left our bible lesson. Only me and him and the church mice were there. He wore his robe. I wore a short skirt and a light v-neck sweater. Maybe the sweater showed too much cleavage, I don't know. We picked up where we left off two weeks earlier. My sweater was off and so was my bra. He tasted my tits again. My response was like I told you before. I was wet and horny.

"He said, 'Marjorie, you have been faithful to the Lord, and have often taken communion. You know the story how the virgin Mary had baby Jesus. We take communion to commemorate His sacrifice and drink wine in remembrance of the blood he spilled for our sins. You can repay His love for us with a gift of your virgin blood in a special way.

"I didn't know what he meant by giving my virgin blood in a special way. I soon found out about the ritual when he slipped off my panties. He had me sit on a miniature alter that was in the corner of the office and asked me to spread my legs. I was so embarrassed. He comforted me by saying it was through God's grace that he made women the bearers of new life. He said it was my duty to be fertile and have God's children.

"Then he quieted my anxieties by quoting the Bible. 'From Corinthians 6: Verses 18 to 20,' he said, 'Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.'

"Hearing scripture made me feel I was doing the right thing.

"He picked up a cross from his desk that was a little smaller than a dinner plate and asked me to receive the Lord. 'Open your heart to him. Let him come into you with all your heart and soul.' He moved my hand between my legs and showed me how to spread my pussy lips to open my 'soul'. Aided by fervent prayers, he slowly and gently pressed the symbol of faith into my virgin pussy. The pain was secondary to seeing my virgin blood spill onto the golden relic.

"He said, 'Praise the Lord for this woman has given her most precious gift, one that can only be given once.' I cried a little. The symbolism didn't escape me at the sight of the blood stained cross."

Marge stopped there. Her face was bloated and red with embarrassment. She tried to hide her face in her hands. She wept.

The therapist brought her a glass of water and said, "Let's take a break and unwind a little." 

Neither said a word for at least five minutes. Finally Dr. Sigberg calmly said, "I'll see you in two weeks."

During the next therapy session, Marge felt stronger, somewhat relieved and more confident.

"How have you been sleeping, Marge?" Dr. Sigberg asked.

"Well, actually, a little better lately," she said.

"I think we had somewhat of a breakthrough last time," he suggested. "What do you think?"

"I hope so. Maybe I should tell you more about this because it didn't end with the worship service in his office that day."

"You mean by defiling you with the cross?"

"Yes, but I didn't think of it that way. At the time, it was a very special worship service. Looking back, I suppose you could call it a sacrifice of a virgin."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"Well, I went home after that. It took me a little time to get my head around what had happened. I didn't actually have sex that day, but it felt like it. Anyway, technically I was still a virgin, but with an important part of me missing.

"I saw the youth pastor again. In fact, I willingly saw him many more times. They were all intimate rendezvous. The next one included a different kind of worship service. When he pulled up his robe, he wore nothing underneath. He said, 'God created woman to give service to a man and give unto him.' Then he took my hand to touch his penis. It was the first time I had touched or even seen a man's penis. It sort of startled me when I saw how big it was. It grew larger and longer at my touch. Gently he held the back of my head and pulled it toward him and he said, 'Glorify the Lord with your holy mouth,' and he pushed himself into my face. 'Suck my dear child like Jesus at Mary's breast.'

"I had this big fat thing in my mouth, not really knowing what to do. Soon he showed me how to move my head back and forth, sliding his thing in and out of my mouth. Once he pushed really hard and I began to gag. At the same time, he squirted gooey stuff down my throat. He had made these terrible sounds of anguish, and I thought I had hurt him.

"His white creamy stuff was all over my lips and down my chin. It was thick like a vanilla milk shake, but it didn't taste at all like it. He just said to swallow it, and I would be purified by God's sacred rewards. I did as he said. The taste was awful. He told me that when Adam ate the forbidden fruit, he didn't much like the taste. The pastor then said, 'Now we know to enjoy the fruit as you will enjoy the taste of my love juices.' 

"He said I was the divine messenger from heaven that was sent to him for a purpose. He told me to meet him the next night in the church foyer, and we would consummate our holy union. I liked the thought of having a purpose.

I told my mother I was going to a movie. The pastor took me to his tiny apartment instead.

"There wasn't any preaching when he squeezed his large erect manhood into me. He said I was a heavenly tight fit. I knew from what my girlfriends said that he would rock himself in and out of me. It wasn't long before I matched his movements, and our rhythms were in sync.

"Of course, he eventually ejaculated this really warm creamy semen all over my belly. It's a good thing he pulled out because neither of us were protected. That was my first time, and I was officially no longer a virgin. It wasn't bad but then, it wasn't great like some of the girls said. I was so sore the next day, and wasn't sure I could do it again.

"Well, I did, that is, we did it over and over again. I really learned to like sex. He was right about my soul. My soul was on fire. He taught me all kinds of things like, how to have sex different ways. He said it was like the Stations of the Cross, bringing us closer to salvation. All I knew is that they brought me closer to stronger and more satisfying orgasms. He even showed me how to deep throat. He said I was really good at it. That was okay except he always wanted to cum in my mouth. He said it was an acquired taste. I never really got used to it.

"After high school, I would come home from college and hooked up with him for quickies at his apartment. That's when he wanted to have anal sex. It sounded so dirty. He was persuasive, and I tried it. It was terrible the first time. By my sophomore year in college, I got accustomed to it. The best part was he could cum inside me without a fear of getting pregnant. There is a special feeling of a man's muscle contracting and spurting inside me. The thing is, I didn't fully appreciate the feeling until later when the health service at the university put me on the pill. I was safe after that, and we could enjoy ourselves to the very end. Having him cum in my vagina really felt great."

"So in those days you were sexually active," Dr. Sigberg said. "You had a desire for sex?"

"Yes, absolutely. That all ended when I was home at Christmas break my junior year," Marge responded.

"Oh, go on?"

"I was at church and asked about the youth pastor. They said he had left the church. No one knew why, but someone knew. Cindy knew, so did her older sister.

"Cindy's sister was my best friend in high school. She confided in me one wintry afternoon that Cindy was pregnant with the pastor's child. Cindy had just turned sixteen. They both had to leave town. I was so devastated. I couldn't believe the youth pastor was doing the same thing with other girls like he had done with me. I cried for three months. I hated men. I vowed to have nothing to do with them, ever. So here I am, Dr. Sigberg."

"I see. You experienced the perfect trifecta of anger, remorse, and shame. You need to get back into the game, Marge, knowing none of this is your fault."

"But it was my fault. I wanted love, then I wanted sex and did everything to get it."

"We all need love. We all need sex. In fact, sometimes we do crazy things to get them. What you need is to confess your sins and get on with your life. You have already done the confessing during these past two sessions. Now is the time to move forward."

"How do I do that?"

"As you know, I treat patients with sexual disorders. Some are not unlike you. As a result, I am offering group therapy sessions starting next month. If you are interested, I will give you the time and place."

"That's scary," Marge said. "I really feel good talking to you in private, but with a group of strangers? I don't know about that."

"You've made some good progress, Marge. A lot of it is your willingness to open up. Group therapy is a safe zone to hear others' tell their stories, so you don't feel alone. Healing comes with expressing yourself."

"Is it a mixed group?"

"Yes, we will have all ages, all genders, and all races. There will be a dozen people if you join. Otherwise, there isn't much more I can do for you."

"Give me the information. I'll let you know next week." Marge left feeling better about herself, even with some sexual desires returning. However, she had doubts about group therapy.

The group therapy meeting was at eight on a Thursday night. Marge was there. It wasn't like she had anticipated. It was a cocktail party. Dr. Sigberg acted as the bartender. Everyone wore a name tag, but there were no formal discussions about individual disorders or personal histories. The purpose of the meeting was to meet people in a relaxed social environment. Learning to trust the others was a key goal. After a couple of drinks and meeting a few people. Marge was glad she had come. Everyone she met was cordial and likable.

There were six women, including Marge, and six men. They ranged in age from twenty to fifty. Some were reserved like Marge; a few were extroverts. The introverts outnumbered the extroverts. The cocktails helped everyone to be less self-conscience. Marge didn't know if she was talking with a pervert or someone with physical, mental or marital problems. Everyone looked so normal. No one talked about their sexual deficiencies.

The next meeting was scheduled for a month later. In the interim, Marge hadn't met with her therapist, but she had applied her own therapy using the toys Dr. Sigberg had prescribed. The room for the second meeting had a distinctively different look. Chairs were arranged in a circle with name tags at each chair, alternating between males and females. It was clear that the agenda would be more series than at the previous meeting.

It began with the ground rules. Everyone was to be supportive, non-judgmental, good listeners, and above all, be honest. Dr. Sigberg asked everyone to stand and hold the hand of the people next to them. This formed a continuous unbroken circle while the therapist explained the importance of communication through touch.

"Ask yourself as you hold the hands of the people next to you," Dr. Sigberg said, "Do they send you a message of urgency, or friendship, or reluctance, or anger?" Marge had never thought about holding hands in that way. "Okay, sit down and we'll talk a little about that concept."

The extroverts were the first to respond. Marge eventually said she felt both friendship and urgency. It was the first things she said publicly in the group therapy session. It relieved a lot of tension later when she talked openly about her repressive sexual dysfunction. It was also helpful to the others as an ice breaker.

Dr. Sigberg then asked that those who wished could give a brief introduction about themselves and a synopsis of their therapy. The variety of individual difficulties was astonishing.

Two women, both at home wives, were having marital problems. One wanted sex "two or more times a day," but her husband didn't feel the same. So, she was having affairs with strangers she met on the Internet. The other had a husband wanting sex three or four times a week while she wasn't interested.

A man, about forty, couldn't get it up even with the help of Viagra. A soldier had a traumatic experience in Afghanistan where he saw women being sexually abused. He couldn't imagine having sex with a woman after that.

There was a woman calling herself, Billie, who was a sex worker. Billie wanted help getting out of the business. Another lady was a lesbian feeling ashamed.

A tall man was on the sex offenders registry for having inappropriate relations with two of his young neighbors. The youngest man was twenty and was a virgin. He had little self-confidence and less self-esteem. Asking a woman for a date was traumatic for him.

Marge simply said she had been seduced by her youth pastor at the age of seventeen, and had fallen in love with him. She later found he was having sex with other girls at the church, and got one of them pregnant. She was devastated.

Of all the people in the group that Marge understood best, it was the young man four years younger than herself. She thought of him more as a boy than a man. He wasn't alone in having low self-esteem. Marge could identify with him. His name was Greg.

The hour and a half session was over. A lot emotion was expressed; nothing was resolved.

A few days before the next group session, Marge was in Starbucks for her morning frappuccino. Just as she was ready to leave, Marge spotted a young man with his eyes riveted to his laptop. She recognized him. It was Greg. She stopped by to say hello.

"Hello. You're Greg. We met a few weeks ago."

He barely looked up from the computer and said, "Oh, I can't remember your name."

"I'm Marge. It's great to see you again."

"Oh yes, I remember. You're the one with the pastor."

"You have a good memory, Greg. Do you mind if I sit here for awhile."

"Go ahead, but I was just leaving."

"Oh, then I'll walk with you to the parking lot."

"Whatever," he said in a nervous sort of way.

At her car, she said, "Bye, see ya soon."

Greg nodded, but said nothing.

The next morning, Marge was back at Starbucks, so was Greg. She didn't ask this time, and sat at his table. They greeted each other with a simple, "Hi."

"Are you stalking me?" Greg asked.

"No, I'm here every morning around this time. It's you that I haven't seen here before. Have you had a sudden need for a morning Joe?"

"Not really. Believe it or not, the doctor sent me here."

"Really?" she said sounding surprised.

"Yeah. His idea is that there are lots of women in here, and it would help me feel more comfortable being around them. Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

"He's the doctor. I suppose he has a point. Is it working?"

"It's only my second day."

"Well, Greg, it's really great to see you. Maybe we can have lunch together or something."

Greg went back to his laptop and didn't acknowledge the invitation.

The third day was a repeat of the first two. This time Marge was a little more aggressive. "I'm having lunch at JPeters at noon. I would love to see you there."

Greg said, "Maybe. I'll see."

But he did show up and even paid for both lunches. She thanked him and gave him a big hug. He backed away like a frightened kitten. That's when Marge said, "Remember what the doc said about touching. It's a great way to communicate. It's not dangerous, Greg."

Greg almost smiled and said, "I know."

The day before their next group therapy session, they met again over coffee and of course, his laptop. Nothing was said about their lunch or the hug. They only agreed they were looking forward to the next group session. The surprise was that Greg didn't back away from their parting hug. Marge felt she was helping him make progress, but wasn't sure he was helping her.

The third group therapy session dealt with how people were making progress. The lady fucking strangers from the Internet said she was down to two a week. The other married lady said she was trying to better understand her husband's interest in pornography by watching some of it with him. It didn't turn her on except the lesbian scenes.

The man unable to get an erection said he had dated a lady from an escort service. She was very patient and at least he was able to get a partial. They didn't have intercourse. The tall man on the sex registry said he was struggling. He continued to watch porn and masturbated a lot. The soldier was quiet and just listened. The others had no special progress to report although Marge said her sex toys were beneficial.

Finally, Greg entered the conversation, and said he had met a girl with whom he felt comfortable. It was the first girl he could say that about since being around his mother. He added that his mom was protective, even to the point of taking showers with him in high school.

His comment about his mother electrified the group and the rest of the meeting centered around mothers and how they had effected their sex lives. The sex worker said her mom was a whore, and got her into the business when she was sixteen. The lesbian revealed seeing he mother having sex with her high school boyfriend. Marge admitted that her mom was deeply religious, and never talked about sex. It was almost like her mom was against it. Maybe that is why she was an only child.

The time went by quickly at this meeting. Marge was looking forward to next month's meeting already, although this week's session was provocative and emotional. "Look, Greg," she said leaving the building, "I'm drained. This meeting really took a lot out of me. I need to wind down. How about a cup of coffee downstairs at the restaurant?"

"Okay, sounds good."

They talked for over an hour discussing other people's responses. They never mentioned their own situations although Marge asked where Greg's parents lived.

"They are about two hours from here." Quickly he changed the subject saying, "I don't know, maybe you don't like football, but State is playing Saturday afternoon. I'm goin'. How about you?"

"No, I didn't plan on it. I do like football, so maybe we can meet there."

"The game is at two thirty. How about meeting at the ticket office at two?"

"I'll be there," Marge said. "What's the weather report for Saturday?"

"Hot and humid. Bring some sunscreen."

"Will do."

The game went on forever, even into overtime. The sun was scalding and both of them were hot, sweaty. and sticky. Marge said after the game, "I really need a shower!"

Greg agreed, "Me too."

"How about coming to my place," Marge urged. "It's not far from here, and we can do it together." "Really? You want to shower with me?"

"Why not? We're both adults."

"I've never done it with a girl, only my mom."

"Come on, Greg, let's have a little fun."

It was a hard sell. In the end, both were in her tiny shower soaping up.

"Soap my back, Greg. It's so hard for me to get back there." Then she turned around and said, "Now do my front."

It wasn't as if Greg didn't know what she meant. He had a special touch using both hands to rub her tits in a circular motion, then cupping them to massage them back and forth. At one point he pinched her nipples making her squeal. He was turning her on in a way she remembered back in high school with the pastor.

"Do you mind if I help you wash Greg?" she asked.

He didn't say anything, but spread his legs as an invitation. Marge soaped his balls and prick. She couldn't resist stroking his cock to an erection. It was big, much bigger than the pastor's. She compared it to her toys. It compared favorably. For the first time in over four years she wanted to have sex with something more than a dildo.

When they left the shower and toweled off, he was still erect. "My god, Greg, it sure would be a shame to waste such a beautiful thing that you have there." Marge never thought she would say that in a million years, but she couldn't resist.

She took him by the hand and led him into her bedroom. His cock stood out like a soldier at attention. It was still rock hard. The shower, hand job, his size, all made her horny and wet. There wasn't much foreplay. They were both ready, and he had no idea how to have intercourse. She spread her legs and rolled him on top of her. Marge helped him find the location. It fit perfectly. Nature took over from there.

The boy didn't last long, and she never came close to having an orgasm. It didn't matter. Something special had happened for both of them. She was over the moon with joy. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She had come full cycle. Her therapy was complete. She was whole again. After that, they just became good friends, except for occasional conjugal visits recommended by their doctor.

Naturally, that would seem to end her experience with therapy. Not so. Her afternoon with Greg ended the therapy sessions, and Marge no longer visited Dr. Sigberg's office as a patient. It didn't end her communication with him, but she was no longer officially his patient. As it turned out, she became a conduit for his practice.

Quite accidentally, she met him at the supermarket a few weeks later. Marge thanked him for helping her. He said how wonderful it was to know she was better.

"Thank you Doctor. It's been great seeing you again."

"Marge, give me a call next week. I'd like to run an idea by you."

She called on Monday. He said he would like her to meet with him the next day. It would be an office visit, but not on the clock. "See me at six after my last patient."

Marge was curious, so she agreed to be there. Her intuition suggested this visit would be more personal in nature. Given her female instincts, she dressed seductively showing a good portion of her full breasts and wearing a mini-skirt. Marge reasoned that she hadn't had sex with anyone since Greg, and he was only a boy. It would be fine to seduce an older man even if he had been her doctor. That was her intent. Anyway, she had always had a fetish about her dad's friend from college. Older guys like the doc turned her on.

Marge was right about the Tuesday meeting. Dr. Sigberg's secretary had gone home and the lights were off. It was only Marge and Sigberg alone. She headed for the couch but the therapist said, "No, Marge. Come sit here at my desk. He walked slowly behind her and said, "This is a little unprofessional, but I have to admit, you did more for Greg in three months than I did in two years. You are good around people, Marge, and have a gift for helping them. He began messaging her shoulders and neck saying, " I'm not supposed to have any feelings for patients, but sometimes I do, especially you. We are all human." At that, Sigberg gently touched her breasts.

"Doctor, I don't think this is right," although she felt the tingling sensation she remembered with the pastor.

"Call me Jakob. I'm not your doctor tonight," and he unbuttoned the top half of her cardigan sweater. She didn't object, and she found herself being seduced rather than needing to seduce him.

He soon had her naked from the waist up and firmly gripped her perfectly round voluptuous tits. "I've so wanted to touch you here. You know how touching sends messages, and your lovely breasts sends an undeniable sexual message to me.

"Come over to the couch and take off that skirt and panties. I want to see all of you, and send you touch messages that you will like."

Marge was naked sitting on the couch, then Jakob parted her legs, licked his fingers and touched her clit. She was already aroused, and he easily found her swollen clit peeking out of her hood.

"Oh," she said as he massaged her love button. "Oh Jakob, that feels so good."

His lips sucked at her sensitive organ. His fingers penetrated her pussy. "Don't stop, doctor. Don't stop!" she wailed.

"Goodness, dear, you are so silky wet. Now I need you to caress me with you lips," and he took down his trousers still wearing his coat and tie.

He took her hand to stroke him to an erection, then firmly put his hands behind her head pressing himself down her throat. She hadn't felt a man's cock in her throat since high school."

Having finished the preliminaries, Jakob turned her so that her knees were on the floor and her elbows on the couch. It was like she was praying at the altar. He was quickly inside her. Jalob was not gentle when he pounded into her, vigorously thrusting with his balls bouncing off her ass. She had never experienced rough sex like that before. It brought out the best in her.

Each time he jammed himself into her, she came closer to an orgasm. She was close. Could he hold it until she came? she wondered. She begged him not to stop. "Jakob, don't take it out. Give it to me harder, do it harder. Oh, oh, oh yes, oh fuck yes, cum inside me. Pump me with your seed."

He lasted long enough for her to have an earthquake of an orgasm, then he grunted a manly grunt and emptied his balls into her. When he had squeezed out the last drop, Jakob grabbed her tits in a grateful hug. He stayed wrapped around and inside her until finally his erection turned to flaccid bowl of jelly. He pulled up his pants and gave her tissue, not to wipe away tears this time, but to clean the cum dripping down her thighs.

She dressed and said with a flushed face, "You make a woman feel really special, Jakob. It felt so good to have a man instead of a boy cum with me. I'm so glad we could get together like this. I dreamed about doing this with you ever since my first time here."

"You are everything a man dreams about, Marge. You are cute, sweet, cumpassionate, and fuck like a whore. Don't take the whore thing wrong. It's exactly what every man wants in a woman. It's what makes you so desirable."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Jakob."

"That's why I want you to join me in my practice, Marge. I would like you to be my associate as a sex therapist. Some of my patients are in need of a caring woman. It's the only way they can be cured. You don't have to give me your answer now, but I want you to think about working with me."

Marge looked up to him with a bewildered expression, then the light bulb turned on. All of a sudden she realized what sex therapist meant in her case. He wanted her to fuck his patients. In other words, to be a clinical whore, not his mistress. She went home with a heavy heart.

A week went by and she hadn't heard from Jakob, then two weeks. On the third week, he called. "How are you doing, Marge?"

"Okay, I guess," she answered.

"I'll get right to the point. Have you thought about my proposal?"

"I thought about it, but I'm just not that kind of girl."

"But you are. You're a kind and thoughtful woman. You truly care about other people and enjoy helping them. That's what this is all about."

"Jakob, I can't imagine having sex with strangers."

"Marge, sex isn't always in the picture, only if you want it to be. You just do what feels right. Keep in mind there can be perks. Men are vain and love to show off a beautiful girl like you in public. Some even are likely to take a girl on a trip, buy them nice things or take them to a concert. It's not guaranteed, but it happens. If sex is involved, there is the fun of participating in a rewarding activity. And if you think of it as a job, you can earn a lot of money.

"Jakob, I don't have sex for the money."

"Well, it's not a bad benefit."

Marge's ears perked up and asked, "How much are we talking about?"

"I can't say for sure but a minimum of $100 per hour even if it is just dinner and a movie."

"What about if it's more?"

"Probably a gratuity of five times that per hour."

"Give me more time to think about this, Jakob. Call me next week, and I'll give you my final answer."

"Sounds like the 'Who Wants To Be a Millionaire' program," he said.

Marge laughed and said, "That's not what I meant."

"Okay, I'll get back to you next week," and Jakob hung up.

Jakob called Monday afternoon. "I've got great news for you, Marge. I have a widower that has been a patient of mine for a year. He is lonely and has become a recluse since losing his wife. It turns out he needs the company of an understanding woman more than having sex. It is a perfect situation for you. I should also mention he is wealthy."

"How old is he?"

"He's fifty-six and in good health. You wouldn't be his nurse."

"You know, Jakob, I was going to tell you that I'm not interested in being your associate in that way. However, I could help you out this time. I am only willing to meet him for dinner or something."

"That's my girl, always eager to please. I'll give him your e-mail address, and you can make the arrangements online. His name is Charles."

Charles wrote soon after. They exchanged pictures, set a date, and arranged for the restaurant and time. It turned out he was a charming man and a great conversationalist. He seemed to be an encyclopedia of knowledge. There was nothing he didn't know about.

Charles was also interested in her, and was willing to hear her opinions. The main difference between them was the thirty year gap between their ages. He liked opera. She liked rock. He liked "Casablanca." She liked "Titanic." They agreed to have dinner together the following week, then go to the symphony. Another night, he took her to a playoff game that went eleven innings before the home team won. Charles took her to a sports bar afterward. He asked her to stay the night with him. She said, "No."

"It didn't occur to her that he had become something of a father figure, and enjoyed his company. They dated for most of October when Jakob called.

"How's it going with Charles?"

"Fine. I like his company."

"You seem to be working magic on him, Marge. He is an entirely different man during therapy. You are doing great. I'm sending you a check for $1100 for services rendered."

"Jakob, he wants to take me on a seven day cruise in the Caribbean. Should I go?"

"Do what you think is best. I don't know how to work out the finances, but I can talk with him about it."

"Ya know, Jakob, I think I'll go."

The ship was called the Norwegian Getaway. Charles booked a suite on the elegant ship. They sailed from Miami in November heading for Cozumel. He bought her a going away present. It was a lace shear nighty. Marge never before had a need for sexy babydoll lingerie. Apparently, Charles thought she had a need. The message was clear. The cruise would include sex. Marge was now comfortable with the idea.

The first night out at sea, she wore the babydoll displaying every highlight of her sexy body. It emphasized her sensual breasts and the panties were crotchless. Charles said he had always wanted his wife to wear lingerie like that. She never did. Seeing Marge wearing it was a dream come true for him.

He wore no shirt but pajama bottoms when he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs slightly parted, and her nipples showing through the transparent lace. She was an alluring sight. He said he was captivated by her beautiful young body, and her smile that never fades. It would be the first time they had been together in bed.

Charles was not impotent, far from it. The moment she touched his cock, it was hard. While she firmly held onto his thick cock, she was amazed at his size. It's length was twice the width of her hand. Meanwhile, he had his fingers inside the slit in her panties, sliding in and out of her pussy.

Marge hadn't had sex with a guy since with Dr. Sigberg, and she was horny. Charles hadn't had sex with a woman for over a year. Both were anxious. They consummated their union almost immediately. He had the energy of a twenty year old. She fucked him like the Energizer Bunny. Of course, he didn't last long the first time. Charles went off like multiple bottle rockets on the Fourth of July. She loved the feeling. She loved making him happy.

He lasted longer the second time when she rode him cowgirl. Her breasts swayed like palm trees in a gentle breeze until stream after stream of cum surged inside her. She finally got her orgasm the third time doing it doggy.

They were both nude the next morning, fucking like rabbits. In the afternoon after a short swim, he said, "Let's take a nap." "Nap" was his euphemism for sex. He fucked her still wearing her bikini. It was always naptime for Charles.

Charles was an amazing lover for a man in his fifties. He knew all the tricks to satisfying a woman. For seven days, he was a cum dispenser. She was his cum bucket. They liked it that way. The fact that he had a gorilla sized cock wasn't lost on Marge. She realized size does matter.

Dr. Sigberg was pleased with the outcome, and said he had bad news. Charles had been arrested for embezzling millions of dollars of tax payers' money. Charles was headed to Federal prison.

"I can't believe it, Jakob. He's such a sweet guy." She thought, Well that explains his generosity.

Jakob asked, "Marge, can you let go?"

It took a minute for her to answer. "You know, Jakob, it was fun while it lasted, but the age difference makes it easier for me to part ways with Charles."

"So you can move on?"

"Yes, I'm okay with it."

Dr. Sigberg added, "A big part about being a sex therapist, Marge, is knowing when to pull back, and not to think of it as a permanent situation." He said a check would be forwarded to her in the next day or two. He didn't say how much or how they had worked it out.

The check was written in the amount of five thousand dollars with a nice thank you note. Marge deposited it immediately before the check could bounce.

Jakob called a week later. "I've got a big problem, Marge. Can you help me out? This is an emergency."

"What's up, Jakob?" Marge asked.

"I have a patient that threatened to commit suicide unless he found a woman that could help him. He's distraught by the embarrassment it causes him. It's urgent. I suggested the escort service that Billie runs. You might remember her from group therapy. Anyway, he got very upset when I suggested her. He said he didn't want a whore. He wanted to meet the girl next door type who would be patient and understanding and help him resolve his problem."

"So you thought of me, right?"

"Of course. You have already helped two of my patients and might I say, helped yourself as well."

"If you weren't a doctor, I would never admit this, but now I'm realizing that part of my repression was a fear of being a slut. I like sex too much, and Charles showed me that."

"So you'll help this man out?"

"Of course. Tell me a little about his dysfunction."

Dr. Sigberg gave her a sketch of his difficulties. He was about thirty, and had been with a couple of girlfriends. They dropped him since he had the nasty habit of coming too quickly. He had tried everything including therapy but nothing was working. This would be a last ditch effort.

Marge said, "I'll meet him at eight on Wednesday night. He needs to make reservations at the Hilton. If I work with him for an hour in the hotel room, I get $500. If he wants me all night, I'll send you the bill. He should ask for Charisma.

So still not quite twenty-five, Marge, now with the professional name of Charisma, was fucking for a living. Of course, it was purely as a qualified sex therapist.