Sally is two years younger than me and she lived with her mother in the farm workers cottage across the yard from the farmhouse. She didn’t have a dad. The story I have pieced together is that Sally’s mother Edna was a bit wild when she was young and only settled down when she was twenty-five. At that time she started being courted by a farmer’s son and they were engaged for five years until she fell pregnant with Sally. The wedding had been arranged when rumours started that the farmer’s son wasn’t the father of the kid and he believed them. Maybe they were true but I think the rumour was put out by some bloke Sally’s mum had knocked back because she never did shake off a reputation for turning a trick. Edna had been my mothers best friend at college so when she was kicked out by her parents and left pregnant with nowhere to live, my mum persuaded dad to let her have the cottage. During the years Edna lived in the cottage lots of people thought my dad was knocking her off but she was always more my mother’s friend than his.
Sally and I grew up almost as brother and sister. For quite a number of years we went together to a small college in the nearest village but never progressed to further education – we were miles from anywhere and I think the authorities forgot about the pair of us. That college taught us to read and add up but there was no need to learn anything about Greeks and Romans because I was going to be a farmer and it was assumed that Sally would eventually be my wife.
Sally is a really lovely looking girl now and so she must have been even more so then but at the time she was just my pal. She was very kind hearted from being very young and was always seeking out damaged creatures to help. My instinct was to put them out of their misery with a short sharp blow but she persuaded me to rescue these victims of nature for her tender care. Many did survive and I eventually finished up as soft as her.
In the early years we were often bathed together and that casually physical familiarity stayed with us. In our middle and late teens, we often skinny dipped together and Sally thought nothing of stripping to the waist before sticking her head under the pump. I liked looking at her rather large breasts but without sexual overtones, rather teasing her about them and laughing at the way they bounced as she ran in infuriated fashion after me. To me tits were just something that all female creatures happened to have. Even in minor bodily functions were far from shy. If I needed a piss then I simply directed a stream at some thistle or fence post while she would pull down her knickers and squat with equal unconcern.
This all changed one hot day in July when we were both in our late teens. Our farm had a champion boar and this was a lucrative sideline because farms from quite a distance sent their sows to us for servicing. One of my main responsibilities was to look after these many matings with Sally as my willing assistant. She generally concerned herself with the sow, (soothing the creature if it had not been covered before), while I ensured that the boar’s dong was nicely lined up on target. Sometimes depending on the circumstances our roles were reversed and I think that was the situation on the day in question. It had been hot work mainly because the boar had needed a lot encouragement before he would perform so afterwards we took a pitcher of lemonade into the barn and lay cooling off on top of the bales of hay. Sally had removed her jeans and lay by my side wearing only a bra and tiny sweat dampened panties. Something overcame us both at the same time and the next second we were doing it. From then on we couldn’t stop. We did it by the river, in the woods, at least twice in the barn every day and then sneak into each other’s beds at night. It took only four months before we realised that she was pregnant.
There was no hassle because our parents were pleased – well, if not exactly pleased they were not too badly upset. We were married quickly and Sally moved across the yard to share my bed officially. Life was perfect and when our daughter Sophie arrived all three grandparents doted on her. I had guaranteed employment for life but with fifteen to twenty years before my father handed the farm over to me – I had plenty of time to learn the administrative as opposed to labouring side of running a farm.
Sophie was two when the rains came. It was not a once in every couple of decades sort of the storm but the river was running exceptionally high. Pulling a trailer containing three sows, my parents were crossing the wooden bridge to the farm, for some reason the trailer slewed sideways and broke through the struts at the side of the bridge. Had mum and dad uncoupled the trailer they would have been all right but instead they made a valiant effort to rescue the pigs. Unfortunately the trailer slipped further, the current caught it and pulled trailer, car and my parents into the torrent. It was over a week before their bodies were recovered.
Compounding the grief came the realisation that I hadn’t the faintest idea how to run the farm on my own. Edna had been slightly eccentric before but now she went completely doo lally, not Alzheimer’s – I think that the doctor said grief inspired dementia. It gave some credence to the gossip about her and my father because she spent each day rocking backwards and forwards, tearing her hair and muttering, “Will, Will, Will,” (my fathers name) over and over again. The whole world had crashed around me and it need a miracle to save us.
That miracle came in the form of the government declaring that the country needed millions of new houses over the next twenty years and to facilitate this, large tracts of green belt were declassified. Included in this, my farm was selected as the ideal site for a large development and I received for the land far more than I would have ever dreamed possible. I bought us a nice house and invested in a business. So while Sally happily stayed at home raising our daughter, I went in to work every day and spent the time walking about and looking important but actually doing very little.
It was when Sophie was old enough to go to play-college in the afternoons that Sally first complained of being bored – to be honest I was finding life a bit boring myself. I suggested that she try doing charity work and this she did. It was either serving customers in charity shops or pushing envelopes through doors and going back later to collect the reluctant donations. The real problem started when our daughter was at college between nine and three thirty when the charity pastimes failed to pass all the available time. Sally was unhappy because her fellow charity workers tended to be either old age pensioners or wealthy educated wives and the later seemed to take pleasure in making her feel inadequate.
Then evening day my wife told me that she had been working with a lovely lady that day. “She’s called Pamela and she was only helping out in the shop that one day because she has a charity job full time,” Sally said excitedly. “She says that it is the most rewarding job she has ever done – and she also told me that the organisation is always looking for volunteers.”
“What kind of work is it?” I felt obliged to ask.
“She says that she is a surrogate wife. Her job is to help unfortunate men with sexual difficulties.”
“Surrogate wives?” I repeated, not liking the sound of it. “Is this Pamela single.”
“No, she’s married but her husband works in London all week and only gets home at weekends, which is why she has the spare time. She said that all the women she works with are either married or have been. The organisation doesn’t accept girls who haven’t been married but they are desperate to attract volunteers my age.”
I asked some additional questions to which she did have an answer but then Sally said that she would know more the next day, adding, “I’m going out for a drink tomorrow night with Pam and some of her friends who work at the centre – they’re going to tell me exactly what they do and how much they like it.”
“You’re not thinking of doing it?” I asked suddenly realising that I had not been told this just as a topic conversation. “I might – it depends on what is involved, Sally said trying to seem casual.”I’ll get training on overcoming sexual problems so I might learn something to help you.”
“I haven’t got any problems,” I said emphatically. “You can’t complain that I don’t do it to you often enough.”
“Oh I grant that you are always chasing me for sex but it never lasts very long, does it?”
“Exactly how long should it take?” I asked, taking offence, “- as you are the apparent expert now perhaps you would like to tell me.”
“I don’t know,” Sally said with an edge of exasperation. “I just know that there must be more to it.”
We hardly exchanged a word for the rest of the evening and slept on opposite edges of the bed so it was the next night after Sally returned from her evening out before I could try to make matters right. In the intervening time I had been honest with myself and was now prepared to concede that our sex lives were possibly not all that they could be. I enjoyed sex immensely but had to admit that our quick fucks seemed to be a different experience to the sex act as described in books.
However, before I could even start my apology, a buoyant Sally launched into an account of her evening. She began with a quick pen portrait of the four ladies present. PAM – aged about 45, plumpish with a motherly face. ISLA – slim 39 year old divorcee with a seven year old son, close cropped hair and a rather plain face. MABEL – widow and over fifty but bleached blonde hair, lots of make-up and figure hugging clothes. DOROTHY – a bit mousey, two children, early forties, married to an accountant. He supports her fully in the work and his interest extends to wanting to know every detail of what she has done each day.
“There are mainly three main types of men that get helped by the unit,” Sally went on to say. “The first lot are men who had sex with their mothers when they were young I think but I can’t understand why they would want to or how the women could let a little boy do something like that. Anyway the men are so guilty about it that their cocks don’t work any more. The next lot are similar in having cocks that don’t work but it’s for a different reason. Some have had accidents and some had other problems but they have got it into their heads that their pricks won’t go stiff even though they really can. The rest are men who have been in prison and while they were in there other men made them think that they were women.”
“How the dickens did make them think that?” I laughed.
“By holding the weaker men down and taking it in turns to stick cocks up their backsides,” she told me. “Apparently some of the men treated like this get to really enjoy it and want to keep on being women after they are released. Our job is to show them that it’s nicer doing things to real women than having cocks stuck up them.”
“So these women spend every afternoon having sex with different men?” I concluded, not liking the idea one little bit.
“No – it’s not like that at all,” Sally protested. “There is a bit of sex at the end of a course of treatment but not very much at all they say. Most of it is pretty ordinary stuff. There’s a lot of nudity and near nudity and quite a lot of touching. You don’t touch the men much because it can seem threatening to them but you let them touch you and even encourage them to. The girls say that it often takes a lot of sessions before the men even dare to do that. So if a man who’s cock doesn’t work gets an erection then he’s cured and if a man who is frightened of women decides he wants to do something to you, then he is cured too. So there is no need for actual sex – it does happen but only as a reward to the men for having passed the course. The thing is that it’s not real sex like being fucked by an ordinary healthy guy.”
“It hasn’t put you off then?” I asked unhappily, already knowing the answer from the enthusiasm on her face. “I’m not saying that I actually want to do it, but I would like to go along for an interview and find out some details officially,” Sally said sensibly, “I do need your permission though – you will say ‘Yes’ wont you?”
I had no real option but I did get her to promise that she would not sign up for anything before we talked again. Three days later she returned from the interview almost skipping with excitement. “They want me if you sign that you agree to my doing that sort of work,” she announced happily. “Eventually I will be a sexual therapy assistant but before that I will be a trainee. Actually I have to start as a probationer because of my youth – well not my youth exactly. They liked it that I am married with a child and the fact that I can’t have any more children. They didn’t much like it that I have only ever been to bed with you and say that I lack both experience of life and maturity. As a probationer I can say ‘No’ to anything that I don’t want to do.”
“I don’t like the thought of you having sex with other men,” I said bluntly, suddenly feeling that if I did not object now I would have far less chance in the future.
“Don’t be silly Ben, I was afraid that you might start thinking like that,” Sally laughed throwing her arms round my neck and smothering my face with kisses. “We have both seen animals mating often enough to know that it means nothing – it just doesn’t compare to what you and me do together. It might be a bit unpleasant lying there and letting patients do it to me but it is very worthwhile to help unhappy people enjoy a fulfilling life. I don’t think it happens very often anyway.”
Under the pressure of her ardour, I agreed that she could start as a probationer to see if she liked it. At this point Sally produced a leaflet and said that she would need to attend lectures at the university to learn some background theory. Sitting side by side we looked down the list of lectures together.
Cunnilingus rather than coitus as signifier of successful femophobia (fear of women) therapy.
“I understand ‘femophobia’ – it’s like hydrophobia, fear of hydroelectric dams,” Sally said brightly.
“I always thought hydrophobia was a fear of mad dogs,” I objected, triggered by some vague memory.
“That’s stupid,” she laughed. “I’ve never even heard of a mad dog in this country so why should anybody be afraid of them?”
“What does the first bit mean?” I asked.
“Don’t know – I and I don’t understand the next one either.”
The Oedipus syndrome elucidated.
“Nor me,” I concurred. “What about the third one?”
3. Correcting sexual orientation forcibly misaligned during penal incarceration.
Sally shook her but I said, “Penal is obviously something to do with penis but I’ve no idea what incarceration means – it sounds very nasty.”
Oral stimulation as counter to erectile dysfunction.
We agreed that ‘oral’ had connection with examinations or with toothpaste but neither meaning seemed to have any relevance to the context.
There were other items on the list but Sally suddenly slumped. “It’s no good, I’m going to fail” she said despondently. “How can I possibly learn the theory if I haven’t the faintest idea what the lectures are about.”
“Cheer up,” I told her. “You might turn out to be exceptionally good at the practical stuff.”
It was two weeks later when I sat anxiously listening to my wife report on her first day at work. “Nothing much happened,” she said. “They are having a rather quiet time at the moment, there are only two men in the ward and I think that another couple come in as out patients. I spent a lot of the day sitting in the common room chatting. The four women I met before were there plus a couple of others. The chief nurse or co-ordinator is called Dennis. He is about thirty-five and he’s a big man. They say he was a PT instructor in the navy and has worked as a warder in a mental institution. His uniform is tight white trousers and a T-shirt – he shaves his head as well but I’m not sure if that’s compulsory. The other girls warned to watch out for him but he was very nice to me.”
“What is the set-up of the clinic like?”
“There’s the ward I told you about with eight beds and then there are three therapy rooms. These rooms only contain a bed but the important thing is that on one wall there is a big one way mirror. Behind the mirror is a viewing room with seating for six people and a video camera focused on the bed. The viewing rooms are for tuition and monitoring that nothing wrong happens – the film keeps a record and is available for scientific research.”
I felt a little let down – I think that part of me had hoped to hear something a bit salacious but this seemed little different from working in a hospital. The following day was better when Sally related how she had watched her first therapy session from the viewing area. The patient Harold was from the ward and this was his first treatment – the therapist was Pam.
“I told you that Dennis was nice,” she began. “He must have known I would be nervous because he came into the viewing area and sat with his arm round me all the time. In the room Harold was already naked on the bed, sitting all screwed up with his knees touching his chin. He is about forty five with a big bald patch and a rather hairy chest – I also noticed that his legs seemed very thin. Then Pam came in wearing a dressing gown but she quickly removed it and lay down on the bed. She was amazing. Dressed she looks like a plump woman with a puffy face but without any clothes she’s terrific. Her breasts are much larger than mine but they don’t sag much at all and she has these spectacular very long nipples. Where mine are reddy pink hers are a rich dark brown. I couldn’t take my eyes off her public hair. She’s got so much, its all very black and it makes the area between her legs look so exciting and mysterious.”
Sally paused, eyes sparkling as she gauged my reaction but when I didn’t speak she continued. “At first Harold ignored her but when Pam kept moving herself ever so slightly, you could tell that he was watching out of the corner of his eye. After a while Pam started gently stroking his back making him gradually relax until he was lying down too. This meant that I could see his penis – if it was a penis. It was terribly big for a start but unlike yours which has a nob at the end he had just a big hole – and where yours always sticks out like a finger, his just flopped there as a big long lump. Very gradually Pam got him so that his head was lying touching her breast and eventually a nipple was between his lips. She took one of his hands and put it on her other tit but he just left it lying there until just before the end of the treatment I noticed he was slowly flicking that nipple with his thumb. The bad thing was that his dick didn’t even twitch at any time but the session was declared a success anyway. ”
The next night Sally reported, “Dennis came with me into the viewing area again when I went to watch Pam having another session with Harold – although I wasn’t nervous this time he still put his arm round me. Harold was more relaxed and was soon sucking on her tit just like a baby. He didn’t seem to want to do anything else and when Pam gradually moved his hand down her body until it was resting between her legs, he just left it there not even bothering to waggle his thumb. His penis did look a bit different so it might have started to go a bit stiffer.”
On Wednesday, Sally told me, “I managed to avoid Dennis’s arm today but I was a bit disappointed. They don’t want Harold to get fixated on Pam so Isla was working with him instead. She’s very thin with hardly any tits at all and she is shaved between her legs – though it looked a bit ugly. Harold didn’t like her either and stayed scrunched up for the whole hour. When I remarked on this Dennis told me that Isla was better at other things – he said that some of the other women say she has a fantastic mouth. It was funny that afterwards Isla came up to me and asked if I would like to stay over at her house on Friday night because her son was sleeping away with a pal from college. She said that it is only a two bedroomed flat but I could always go in Robbie’s bed if I preferred. I told her that I would love to but that it wouldn’t be fair on you. I said how much you liked hearing what I had been doing during the day and that you loved bed time too much to leave you on your own. Isla gave a little smile when I told her that but I’m sure she understood.”
My wife missed the ongoing treatment of Harold on Thursday as she was busy participating in her first training session. It seems that there is quite a science to lying naked on a bed. The leg needs to be raised at just the right angle, body positioned so that not too much of the vagina is revealed and breasts allowed to hang with the right amount of enticement. Pam was acting as instructor and they kept changing places on the bed for my wife to try what she had learned. Dennis acted the role of patient but made no attempt to enter into the spirit of the thing. Sally said that instead of pretending to be shy, he lay on the bed grinning, with hands behind his head and oversized cock sticking up in the air like a flagpole. She told me, “It was very distracting having it in front of me all the time, so big and gleaming as if it had been polished. Some stuff came out of the end and stated to trickle slowly down the side like honey would and I kept getting this odd urge to stick out the tip of my tongue to see what it tasted like.”
On Friday she was involved in something mundane. At work I had started getting all keyed up every day wondering what Sally would have to tell me and I remember feeling disappointed that night. Monday was a different. Usually she waited until we had eaten before telling of her day but the moment I walked in the door she blurted out, “Ben, I’ve been fucked by a patient today. I’m sorry – it was not meant to happen for a long time yet and I meant to warn you when it got likely but this took everybody by surprise.” Despite the apology, I could tell by the excitement in her eyes and glow of happiness that she was not really sorry. “They wanted to keep trying Harold with different therapists and because I had done so well mimicking Pam on Thursday, it was decided that I should have my first experience of working with a patient,” she explained. “I think that Harold was expecting Isla again because his face lit up and he gave me a big smile. I was amazed to see that his cock had gone really stiff and it was even bigger than Denis’s. He rolled towards me. I thought he wanted to just suck my tits but he kept on rolling, finished up on top of me, and the next second his prick had gone into kind of natural like. It felt enormous. He started thrusting which was a surprise because I’d got the impression that he didn’t know what to do. I got this weird feeling inside, I never felt anything like it before but it was nice. Unfortunately he didn’t last much longer than you and it was all over. Harold started smothering my face with kisses saying, ‘Thank You, thank you.’ It made me feel so good.”
My heart was pounding. I knew that I should feel jealous because this was the first man other than me to have his cock inside my wife’s cunt – but in view of the situation I could not manage to muster that emotion. To bolster her very obvious pride I said sincerely, “Congratulations.”
“That’s what they all said,” Sally gushed. “I think that everybody must have crammed into the viewing cubicle to watch because when I got dressed and went into the common room, everybody started clapping and a lot of them wanted to kiss me. Denis said it was amazing how I had cured the man so quickly and it just showed that I had a big future in that line of work.”
I could not begrudge my wife her success but I was not at all sure that I wanted her to have a big future as a surrogate wife. There was a worry that she might need to repeat her performance the next day to prove the cure but Sally reassured me that the next day she was booked for something completely different called ‘Know your own body’. So returning from work on the morrow, I was intrigued rather than exited, curious to know what she might have discovered about herself.
“It was wonderful – I would never have believed it.” she said. “I had to pick one of the other women to work with. I think that Isla badly wanted me to choose her but I get on so well with Pam. We went together to one of the therapy bedrooms, got undressed and lay on the bed. Pam told me to relax explaining that she was going to show me how to find my G-spot and other sensitive places. I lay back with my eyes closed and felt her stroke lightly round my breasts, then her hand moved down across my tummy until she was tickling the inside of my thighs. Suddenly she slipped a finger (or possibly more than one) inside me and a moment later, I felt the most delicious sensation. She only did it for a second or two then stopped and told me to try to find the same spot on her. It felt strange caressing another woman’s warm body and even more so when I slipped my fingers inside her. It took me a few tries under her direction before I found the spot but when I did, we switched back and she showed me something else on me. We went backwards and forwards with different things until finally she returned to my G-spot and kept on with it. It felt wonderful – similar to when I play with my clitoris but even better. I was floating. Then she whispered, ‘Imagine your breasts are being sucked or there is a wet tongue in your ear while this is happening’ and when she said that I seemed to explode. Then it was my turn to do it to her and I got it dead right straight away. Pam had her legs wide apart moving her body and sighing. It was a pity I was limited to just using a hand because I would have loved to suck one of her fantastic nipples as well. Then my hand got all wet as she cried out. By this time we were both very hot and I wanted to go on forever but just then the bell went to indicate that the session was nearly over. Pam sat up and kissed me on the mouth. All the people there seem to use their tongue when they kiss – I mean Denis did the very first time I was introduced to him.”
As she was speaking my wife’s hand strayed to between her legs and that action combined with the erotic words caused me to disgrace myself in my pants. Sally was to eager to tell me more that she failed to notice this small fact. “Afterwards we went to the common room still holding hands. Only Dorothy was in there. ‘You too look like you’ve had fun,’ she said moving her chair near to ours but before we could tell her what we had been doing Denis walked in, beckoned to her then left again. Dorothy stood up, shrugged, pulled a face towards us and then meekly followed him. Puzzled I looked towards my friend. ‘I bet anything that Dennis has just been watching us together and now wants to get rid of his frustrations with her,’ she explained. ‘He can’t make her can he – if she doesn’t want to?’ I protested. ‘She’ll do it with him willingly enough. Denis can make you go quite crazy once he’s got that great schlong of his inside you.’ Pam assured me. ‘Are you telling me that that he’s shagged you?’ I asked, very surprised.”
At this point, Sally changed places to sit by me and took my hand in hers and said, “Pam explained that having sex with Denis is part of the appraisal system. She said that he wanted it to be done as a ‘running record’ every month and when everyone complained he tried to settle for once a quarter. That didn’t wash either so it was left as an annual thing – but it means that everyone still has to let him shag them once a year. Pam did say except for me because being a probationer I am allowed to refuse – but I can’t stop being a probationer until I do it with him.”
“That’s the answer though,” I said. “Just carry on as you are being a probationer.”
“Ben, I’m sick of wearing a yellow dressing gown when all the others have pretty blue ones. I’ve had enough of being a probationer already and I’m not going to let one stupid fuck stop me getting on in this job.” I think that Sally saw signs of contention on my face because she leaned forward to kiss my cheek and say, “Keep quiet because I’ve got some more to tell you. Pam got up and said that we could check if she was right about Denis and Dorothy. She took me to a fourth therapy room that I didn’t know about and we crept into the viewing area. Sure enough, Dorothy was on her hands and knees with Denis behind her fucking away like Conrad the boar back on the farm – and when Pam switched on the sound, Dorothy was squealing louder than any of the young sows that he used to service. She was delirious. For a moment or two I wished that I were Dorothy – now don’t get upset by that because back on the farm I often used to wish that I was the sow.”
My head was going round filled with images that my sexy wife had conjured up. “Is that it?” I asked.
“Well almost,” Sally said. “We watched for a bit and then quietly crept away. I asked Pam why she only did it with Denis once a year if he was so good. She said that she didn’t really like him at all and certainly didn’t want to be one of his harem. “For me this job isn’t just an excuse to get extra nookie – I really do get all my satisfaction from helping inadequate men,” she said. “And anyway – if I wanted an out of mind experience, I’d go with Isla rather than Denis any day.”
Nothing much happened the following day but on Friday, Sally mentioned that three ex prisoners with psychological problems had moved into the ward and that these men were discussed in the common room. Pam said they were a waste of time. She believed that while the women would spend the day persuaded such men that they liked women, Denis would be equally busy at night convincing them that they really were gay. Later that day it seemed that Dorothy again disappeared with the randy co-ordinator. Pam took the opportunity to whisper to Sally, ‘Dot tells her husband everything about her work but she plays down these unofficial sessions with Denis. If you happen to get involved with him, I advise you to do the same’. Having related this to me my wife looked in my eyes and said, “I have no intention of getting involved with Denis – and whatever happens, I’m not ashamed and I’ll continue to tell you every single thing.”
I took great reassurance from my wife’s words – not as a guarantee against wrongdoing but in the hope that I would not suddenly find myself left in the dark. The next Monday night when I got home Sally was very exited and told me that she was starting on her skills training the following day. “The first subject is fellatio,” she said. “Dennis wants to do the whole topic in depth but it will only be the basics tomorrow.”
I was pleased for her but puzzled. Hating to show my ignorance I asked, “What exactly is fellatio?”
“I don’t really know but Dennis did say that it was vital for the kind of work that I want to do,” she replied and we said no more about it. For the first time I regretted that we did not have a dictionary in the house but then I didn’t even know how to spell the word.
At work the following day I was still wondering but did not know any of my employees well enough to ask. Except one. There was a pretty newly married girl who invariably gave me a shy smile whenever I passed her desk so, finding her alone in the office I drew up a chair near to hers and said quietly, “I wonder if you can help me.”
“Oh anything Mr Wood – I’ll do anything you want,” she gushed.
“Fellatio,” I began but before I could say, ‘What can you tell me about it?’ the poor girl blushed to the roots of her hair, jumped up and ran out of the office in tears.
Only minutes later, still upset by the girls reaction I found myself in a lift with one of the salesmen. “Remind me what fellatio is?” I ordered.
“Cock sucking,” he said. “Why do you want to know boss – you queer or something?”
“I just came across the word in a magazine but had quite forgotten what it meant,” I explained lamely.
“Which magazine was that,” he asked perking up. “I’ve got some really hot foreign mags I can sell you if you’re interested.
It was only after some difficulty that I managed to extricate myself from that situation. I had discovered the meaning of the word but in the process had badly damaged my reputation in the firm – and knowing the meaning brought no comfort because I hated to think what my wife was being taught at that very moment.
That night, Sally told me happily, “Fellatio means taking a man’s penis in your mouth,” but I did not mention that I had already found out that information. “Denis took me and Pam into one of the therapy rooms,” she said. “I thought he was going to demonstrate on her but later she told me she had insisted on coming to keep an eye on me. Denis asked me if I took your cock in my mouth. I said no but told him that I sometimes kissed the end of it.” Suddenly she giggled and said, “I didn’t mention that just kissing it could be very risky.”
I smiled too remembering the number of times I had to grab tissues to wipe her face.
“Anyway,” she went on, “He started pushing his cock slowly into my mouth. When it tried to get into my throat it made me choke but he pulled back saying that in a later lesson I would learn ways to overcome that. That was more or less it because nothing happen and all the time, knowing you, I expected it to get messy any second. I think it is going to need a lot of lessons before I get good at it. Denis said that I should practice with you. We’ll start tonight – the nice thing is that I should be able to get all of your cock into my mouth without choking a bit.”
We did try that night but unfortunately I got so excited that it proved impossible to get my prick anywhere near to her mouth without losing control.
My wife’s second fellatio lesson followed the next day – apparently without her friend in attendance. “Denis explained it all to me before we started, because we were going to do the whole thing,” Sally told me. “He said that patients were very prone to ejaculating when they were being sucked and it was vital that the therapist should not show any surprise or distress, so to get me used it he was going to cum in my mouth. I told him that there was no need for him to bother because I would be getting get plenty of that kind of practice with you. Denis said that was a very good thing but he still needed to tick it off as having been done officially as part of the course. When we did it, he let me take my time, told me how to breathe, how to move my head and use my tongue. Then when the spunk started squirting in my mouth, he very kindly head my head firm to stop it jerking away and continued to stroke my hair until I had swallowed it all. It made me feel really good having done so well at my first try and Denis made it better by saying that I had a whole lot of potential.”
Any reservation that I might have felt at this new was negated during a fun filled evening and night where my wife constantly devised ingenious way of getting her lips round my dick without giving me time to react. After one such successful foray she grinned at me and said, “Until this afternoon, I would never have dreamed the stuff that comes out of men could taste so good. To think that your cum has been flying about my head for years and I never thought to put any in my mouth.”
Wednesday Sally watched Dorothy gain moderate responses from one of the ex prisoners and the next day I got home to finding her looking like the cat that got the cream. “I’ve done it again,” she said happily. “They gave me a try with the last of the men who have been in prison but I was warned not to be disappointed because he was a hopeless case – what they called a real closet queen. Well I took my dressing gown off, lay on the bed and within three minutes he was fucking me – he went on and on and on. His cock wasn’t that much bigger than your is but he knew what he was doing. I didn’t actually have an orgasm but he kept going solidly for almost the whole hour and it was lovely, feeling his thing moving in and out of me all that time. All the other women said that it was incredible how the man reacted to me. I think it’s because I’m so much younger than they are but they all say that it has got to be more than that. Just before I came home, Denis told me that I am wasted as a probationer.”
I do not remember much of the following two days or the weekend except that my wife talked constantly about her wish to let Dennis upgrade her to a full status trainee therapy assistant while I remained consistently resistant to the idea. In the end she wore me down and the following little speech went a long way to convince me. She said, “Ben, I have already had sex with two men beside you and it hasn’t affected us one little bit – has it? I don’t see how it possibly could because we have such a special relationship when it comes to sex. It has always been so much fun with us. You have all your problems and we both laugh about it so that it turns into fun. I love you for it. Sex should be a happy laughing experience so if people try to be serious about it then it can’t possibly be the same.”
Monday Sally went in to work armed with my permission and she rang my office in the middle of the morning to say that the big event had been scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. That morning I wished her luck but neither of us mentioned shagging – her last sentence before leaving started with the words, ‘Tonight, after Denis has upgraded me….’. My morning at work was not too bad but after lunch I grew exceptionally tense and had the feeling that an ominous cloud was hanging over me. I had planned to knock of early and be waiting outside the college when Sally arrived to collect our daughter. It turned out to be one of the rare occasions when my presence was required at work because the accountants had called a special meeting that I had to attend. In the meeting there was much talk about ‘cash flow crisis’ but my mind was so centred on Sally and her upgrade that I grasped almost nothing about what was being said.
In the event I was over half an hour later than usual getting home. Sally threw me a rather subdued smile but then in contrast pursued her game with Sophie in what seemed an excess of enthusiasm. Other days, eager to tell of her day, my wife would put our daughter in front of the TV long enough to give me a quick outline of events at the clinic, filling in all the details later when we were alone. This time she seemed determined to keep Sophie by her side, even calling her back when the child would have naturally run off to do something else. So I waited patiently until our little girl was in bed and we had eaten a full meal in silence. Even then my wife was reluctant to speak and in the end I had to ask, “Well, what happened then?”
Sally’s eyes flicked only briefly past mine as she said bluntly and briefly, “He fucked me as we agreed that that he should.”
Her lack of detail was a glaring omission. I decided not to pressure and instead, forcing a degree of lightness into my voice, I said with equal brevity, “At least you’ve got it over with for a year.”
“Actually I haven’t Ben and I don’t know how to tell you.”
My heart sank but I managed to smile and say, “Come on love – it’s me. We can tell each other anything.”
My wife lit a cigarette and then said slowly, “Afterwards – after we had sex, I thought it must have been really special and asked how I’d done, expecting him to praise me but instead he told me that I just lay there and let it happen. Of course, annoyed I asked what the hell I was supposed to do. Dennis explained that a man and woman can both lie perfectly still but she can make him cum with the muscles of her cunt. He said that it’s a skill he can teach me but a woman should be doing a bit of that all the time that she is being fucked. So I said that it was not my fault because all my marriage I’d had to concentrate on slowing my husband down – not making him cum even quicker.”
Sally stubbed out her smoke. “That amused him,” she said. “He said, ‘Your husband’s a bit trigger happy is he?’ I laughed too and using our joke I said, ‘Blasts away at anything that moves – it’s a good job he’s got bags of ammunition’. Denis went serious than and said, ‘There are techniques for dealing with that you could learn under my tuition – there’s also a numbing spray, I’ll let you have a can before you go home.’ By this time he was stiff again so we started fucking and it was even better than the first time. Half way through the bell went for the end of the session but he just carried on. Later on we did it again and was still more wonderful. Ben sex is serious not fun at all. We haven’t been having sex all these years, we may somehow have got a daughter out of it but we’ve been just messing about like a couple of kids. I never believed that I could be made to feel like Denis made me feel. After the third time I told him that I loved him. He said that I didn’t really but many women think that are in love after being fucked for the first time. ”
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “It wasn’t your first time – I’ve been doing it to you for years.”
She shook her head sadly at me. “This was the first time that I have been really fucked. You’ve absolutely no idea – and even if you did, your cock is nowhere near big enough.”
It was like a kick in the teeth. “Does this mean that you have stopped loving me and don’t want to sleep with me anymore?”
“Don’t look so unhappy – of course it doesn’t,” Sally reassured me. “I will always love you but now I also love Denis a little bit too and I want to keep on doing it with him. I know now why Dorothy was so easy. And thinking back to the farm, I always thought that the young sows squealed because Conrad’s cock hurt them but I have done plenty of squealing myself this afternoon. Your going to benefit too you know from all the things I am going to lean. When the sex is a lot better for you, you’ll look back and be glad that this happened.”
For something to say I muttered, “So what’s going to be the arrangement?”
“Nothing much is going to change,” she said. “I told Denis right out that he could fuck me any time that he wanted but he insisted on doing it only once or twice a week and booking it down officially as training sessions – though some will have to take place in the evenings. I am going to be working some evenings anyway to broaden my experience. You see, the men we help during the day are recommended by the National Health Service, but Denis says that there are occasional rich private patients in the evening who would really appreciate having a young therapist.”
“You only started doing this job to pass the time. You don’t need money so why bother with private patients at all?” I protested.
“It’s for the future,” Sally said smugly. “Denis says I’m like an open book ready to soak up knowledge. He says that I have the potential to become a fully qualified sex therapist in my own right and when that happens I can open my own clinic. He explained that by concentrating on selected private patients we could make a fortune and establishing a reputation now can only help later.”
That is how it turned out over the next few months with Sally soon spending at least two long evenings away from home every week. In the short term, although all the fun had gone, my sex life did improve, a combination of the spray and different calming techniques allowing me to indulge in proper intercourse for the first time. Unfortunately, I deteriorated and became even worse than before to the extant that even when at work an ill chosen thought could start semen trickling down my leg. The problem was that Sally was unable to stop herself bursting out with enthusiastic remarks about Denis. We would be sitting quietly together on an evening when she would say, “He really does have the most fantastic penis – I’m absolutely crazy about it” or “You wouldn’t believe how good it feels to have him inside me – sometimes I feel I could die if he stops.” This meant that I could never get what they did together out of my mind. It was not so bad when the ‘training’ sessions took place during the day but it was torment to have her get in bed with me very late, still carrying his smell and with wetness oozing out of her onto my side of the bed.
I started to also get suspicious about the patients she saw in the evening with the impression that these encounters differed markedly from her day work. This was partially confirmed by the following. Sally was becoming increasingly impatient with my premature ejaculation, no longer seeing any humour in my failures. Then one day she announced, “I have been talking to Denis about your problem and he can’t understand why you have never sucked my twat – he thinks you ought to start because it might help.” I had been tempted by the idea but it had become second nature to avoid anything that excited me. So I followed the suggestion and found that it did help, also giving me pleasure in the process. However, about the third time I sucked her, Sally suddenly got annoyed and pushed my head away saying, “You’re not doing it right – I know because I had it done to me far better the other night.”
“Who by?” I asked sitting back, unreasonably perturbed by this new development.
“The other evening there was this old rich guy who needed help,” she began. “Denis said the patent needed lots of excitement so there was another girl to help me and we had to mess with each other to get the guy worked up. She was called Debra, with long black hair and big bouncy tits. All she was wearing was a red suspender belt, black stockings and red very high-heeled shoes – but then I had only an extra tiny nurse’s uniform myself, with stiletto shoes and no underwear. I thought we were only going to pretend but she got her head between my legs and very quickly almost sent me silly with her tongue. I did it back to her and whenever I remember what she tasted like it makes my mouth water. All of this certainly did the trick because suddenly the old guy threw his bedclothes back and proceeded to fuck the pair of us. He had a big, very stiff prick and I’m not at all sure that there was anything really wrong with him. I don’t care because I had a marvellous time – nearly as good as the night last week when I cured two brothers of sibling rivalry by letting them share me.”
A few nights later I hesitantly insinuated my head between my wife’s legs – to satisfy my own desire rather than just to please her. After a few minutes she stopped me again saying that I hadn’t a clue. She said that since the last time she had done it with Pam just to check. Denis had been watching them and when they explained, he thought I really ought to learn how to suck cunt properly because he felt that I was going to finish up doing quite a lot of it. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. “What’s going to happen,” my wife said, shuffling to sit cross-legged near me and hold my hand, ” – is that they are going to admit you to the unit for a minimum of a fortnight but you might be allowed home at weekends. While you are there the women are going to take turns letting you get sucking practice with them and at the same time something is going to be done to desensitise your prick. I will see you during the day of course but you mustn’t worry about me at night. Denis will be staying with me some of the time and he’s got a couple of big black friends who will be happy to call in and look after me when he can’t make it.”
I was released after just over a month having spent hours every day with my face buried in the hairy twats of different women, most of them old enough to be my mother. That said, I am rather proud of the expertise that I have acquired. Unfortunately, the remedial work on my penis was rather overdone because it now won’t go stiff at all and most of the time I hardly know it’s there. I was called in to work almost immediately I set off from home to be told that my firm was in desperate trouble but that there was an offer on the table to buy me out – unfortunately for less half of what I had put in originally. I returned despondently home to discuss things. Denis was there – he seems to have moved in a great deal of his stuff during my absence. He urged me to accept it saying that it was exactly the sum required to purchase and outfit a property that would make an ideal clinic. Sally got so excited that she could hardly stand still. They have just gone upstairs to celebrate so I am taking the opportunity to get this manuscript in the post.
Note. During transcription I have tried to improve the flow by extending the vocabulary used but in a couple of places the misuse of words was far too hilarious to change.