I woke up, fumbling for my phone. Having stopped the alarm, I rubbed my eyes, then rolled over, reaching out for Layla.
She was not there. Sitting up, I looked around; still no Layla. I got out of bed, put my clothes on, and quietly left the bedroom. Dad’s door was ajar, so I tentatively pushed it further open, and looked in.
Layla was indeed there, her naked body snuggled up against Dad in his single bed. I sighed unhappily. This was the second morning in a row that Layla had spent the whole night with him, having fallen asleep with him after a long mutual rubbing session.
I had to make a change, or pretty soon, Layla would be spending every night with my dad instead of with me. And today, maybe, would be the turning point. Although the whole idea made me uncomfortable, I had reluctantly come to the conclusion that it was necessary, and I had made the appointment. Today we were going to see Dr Tan, the sex therapist.
I knocked on the door – softly at first, and then louder. Layla stirred, and then Dad did too. As Layla opened her eyes and looked at me, I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh!” she said. “Sorry babe … I fell asleep…”
“So I see,” I said. “Well, you should think about getting up. Our appointment with Dr Tan is at nine.”
Layla started to get up, but Dad caught her hand. “Can we…?” he asked hopefully.
Layla smiled at him. “Of course,” she said. Then she looked back at me. “I’ll be down for breakfast shortly, Lindsay.”
Dad threw back the covers, and then manoeuvred his naked body on top of Layla’s. As she spread her thighs wide, and reached down to grasp his cock, I retreated from the room.
Two hours later, we found ourselves sitting on a dark blue sofa, sitting opposite a short man of oriental extraction – probably Chinese or Japanese; I can never tell which is which – whose greying temples suggested to me an age of about forty-five.
“Thank you for seeing us, Dr Tan,” I began, but he flapped a well-manicured hand at me.
“Please!” he said. “Call me Charlie. I like to keep things informal here.”
“Oh … okay,” I said. “Charlie. Perhaps, um, could you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
“If you like,” he replied with a smile. “I was born in Baoshan, in the Yunnan province of China, and moved to England when I was eight years old. I went to school in London, and studied psychology at the University of Bath. I have followed a number of career paths over the years, but finally returned to my true calling, sex therapy, seven years ago. Since then I have helped many couples with their bedroom problems, and I am sure I can help you with yours.”
“Um, thank you,” I said.
“Now,” he went on, “tell me about yourselves.”
Layla and I gave him our biographies in brief, and then I launched into an explanation of our particular problem. “It’s me,” I confessed. “I get, um, anxious? I suppose? I’m not sure – I seem to have more than one issue, I think.”
“Go back to the beginning,” said Charlie. “The first time you and Layla experienced an issue.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “Well … it was our first date. I was nervous – I’d never had sex before, you see – and I knew that Layla was quite … experienced.”
Charlie turned to Layla. “May I ask … how experienced?”
Layla blushed. “Well … I enjoy sex,” she said. “At university I would often go out with friends, and get drunk … and sometimes I would end up going home with some random man. I … I’m afraid that happened quite a few times...”
“Interesting,” said Charlie, shifting in his chair. “And … did you typically practise … safe sex…?”
“Not usually,” Layla admitted. “I suppose I was really lucky I never picked up any STDs.”
Charlie nodded. “And … did you use birth control?”
“Always,” said Layla. “I was on the pill. Until Lindsay and I got engaged, anyway. Which was, um, six months ago?”
“I see,” said Charlie. “And you got married … when?”
“The seventh of October,” I said.
Charlie nodded again. “And you were dating for how long before you got engaged?”
“About six months,” I told him.
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “May I ask … how many times have you successfully had sex?”
I glanced at Layla, who looked back at me. “Um,” I said, feeling rather hot in the face, “we actually … haven’t…”
“Seriously?” said Charlie. “Okay. Sounds like a real challenge! But don’t worry – we’ll get you through this. Let’s go back to that first time – the first date. Lindsay, you were nervous. Layla, you clearly were not. So … what happened?”
I sighed. “I … we’d just been to see a film together. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. We went back to her flat, which she shared with two other girls. She took me into her bedroom, stripped off her clothes, and then lay down on her bed. And she said, um … I’ll never forget this … ‘Now come here and fuck me.’”
Dr Tan grasped the front of his trousers, and shifted his position on his chair. “So far so good!” he said. “What happened next?”
I stared down at my shoes. “Well … nothing,” I said. “I sort of … had an orgasm, right there and then. Just hearing those words. I panicked, made a hurried excuse, and then fled the scene. Just bolted. Got in my car, went home, and … well, frankly, I cried my eyes out. I thought I’d ruined everything. I thought I’d lost her.”
“Clearly that was not the case,” said Charlie.
“Of course not!” said Layla, smiling. “He was so silly! I tried ringing him to see what was wrong…”
“I didn’t realise she’d rung me until after I’d pulled myself together,” I said. “Then I saw I had a message. So I rang her back. I was afraid to tell her what happened, but she managed to get the truth out of me. And she said it didn’t matter at all, and we could just try again next time.”
“Did it really not matter to you?” asked Charlie. “A woman who so enjoys sex?”
“I thought it was quite endearing!” said Layla. “Here was this man who had so bravely saved me from drowning … and he was so excited to have sex with me that he climaxed just at the thought of it!”
“He saved you from drowning??” asked Charlie.
“Well, we don’t have to go into that,” I said hurriedly.
Layla chuckled. “He doesn’t really like to talk about it,” she said. “But yes! He really did. So I wasn’t going to let a little thing like premature ejaculation get in the way of our happiness! Having sex with Lindsay was just a puzzle I had to solve.”
“But … you did not solve it,” said Charlie.
“No,” I said with another sigh. “The next time, I climaxed when she took my underwear off. The time after that, as soon as she touched my cock. And the time after that … I found I couldn’t get hard at all. It was like … it was terrified of failure.”
“Your … penis was?” Charlie inquired.
I nodded. “We tried for over an hour. Eventually I got so upset that I stormed out, telling Layla that she should just dump me and find herself a real man.”
“But she didn’t,” said Charlie.
“Actually she did,” I said, looking at Layla with a rueful smile.
She took my hand, and squeezed it. “Our two-week break,” she said.
“And … did you find someone else?” asked Charlie.
“Lots of someones,” said Layla. “Oh my gosh, I had a lot of sex in those two weeks! But I found myself missing Lindsay terribly. I realised that what I wanted was him – even if we didn’t, or couldn’t, have sex. So I turned up at his house one evening, and I told him I wanted to sleep with him, without having sex.”
“So that’s what we did,” I said. “And we became a couple again. We spent Christmas and New Year together, we talked about getting a flat together … that never happened, but we talked about it. And we just kept seeing each other, and not having sex, until … um, the middle of May. Then I proposed to her, and she accepted on the spot.”
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Layla,” he said. “You’re a woman who loves sex, who needs sex … and a lot of it. How did you manage to survive for all that time without it? Or … did you?”
“I did!” said Layla proudly. “I had the help of a few interestingly-shaped toys, but as for other men … nope! I became effectively celibate overnight. And sure, I had cravings … but I was good! I didn’t cheat!”
“But did the prospect of marriage with a man who could not fulfil your needs … not bother you?”
“Well,” said Layla, “I always assumed we’d overcome that problem. When we got engaged, and I moved into the house Lindsay shared with his dad, he wouldn’t let us have the master bedroom right away; he said the two of us should sleep in separate rooms until we were married. I’m still not quite sure of his motives behind this…”
“I think he just wasn’t keen on giving up his room,” I remarked.
“Perhaps,” agreed Layla. “Anyway, it sort of suited us, because it took the pressure off trying to figure out sex. We decided that we would just wait, and then really go for it on our wedding night – like in the old days.”
“Almost a year without sex?” Charlie asked. “That must have been difficult for you.”
Layla smiled sheepishly. “I had my toys,” she said. “But yes, it was hard.”
“Then the wedding night came…?” Charlie prompted.
“Yes,” I said reluctantly. “We had a plan. If I climaxed too quickly – as seemed likely – we would simply wait until I got hard again, and have another go. The problem was … I couldn’t get hard at all! I’d built this whole thing up in my head, and the stress of it just overloaded my brain, or something. It’s like it was … paralysed.”
“Lindsay was getting upset,” said Layla, “so we decided to just cuddle, and try again whenever he next got hard. Which is what we did the following night. I’d put on the outfit he likes best…”
“A secretary outfit,” I explained. “With a crisp white blouse, a black miniskirt, and stockings.”
“A classic,” said Charlie, smiling. “And did this outfit do the trick?”
“Yes,” I said. “Too well. I climaxed way too quickly. But that was okay, we thought … we would just wait a while. After about forty-five minutes, Layla started teasing me again, and sure enough, I got hard. But when I tried to enter her … it just sort of … collapsed. We tried again and again, but the same thing kept happening.”
“Then I had the idea of just giving him a hand-job,” said Layla. “He really liked that, so I kept going until he came.”
“It was nice,” I admitted. “After that, hand-jobs sort of became our thing. We did try having sex a few more times, but whenever it felt like it was getting too stressful, Layla would offer me a hand-job, and I would gratefully accept. This went on through the rest of our honeymoon, and beyond…”
“How about blowjobs?” asked Charlie. “Surely a nice transition between hand-jobs and sex?”
“We did try blowjobs a couple of times,” I said. “But they weren’t very successful. Either I would explode immediately, or Layla would suck and suck without me getting hard. We couldn’t seem to find a middle ground. Hand-jobs seemed to work better for me, so we sort of stuck with those. Back at home, we decided not to continue trying to have sex until we were in a house of our own. Layla didn’t think it would be good idea to have Dad hearing us … um … well, sometimes I would get a bit, um, weepy, when things didn’t go well. And she was right – I didn’t want Dad thinking I was useless…”
“I see,” said Charlie sympathetically. “So you’re now almost two months into your marriage, Layla, and you still haven’t had any sex? That must be … maddening.”
Layla blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I’ve had no sex…”
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I sighed heavily. “It was my dad’s birthday party,” I said. “Saturday before last.”
“I think we need to go back a bit further than that,” said Layla. “You know, for background.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “To Damon?”
“To Kent,” she said.
I nodded. “Okay. So after our honeymoon, we were looking for a house to buy. We’d actually started looking before the wedding, but anyway. A couple of weeks after the honeymoon, our estate agent, Darren, got arrested for drug possession. He was a super nice chap; we’d never have guessed he was a drug user. Sometimes you just never can tell about people. Anyway, we switched to a new chap, Kent – an American if you please – and he showed us around a house we really liked. But then he, um, gave Layla quite an intimate massage…”
“Oh?” said Charlie in surprise. “How intimate?”
“He fingered me,” said Layla. “To a lovely orgasm!”
“Yeah,” I said glumly. “Right in front of me!”
“How does an estate agent go from showing you around a house to giving you an intimate massage?” asked Charlie in bemusement.
I shrugged. “He was very charismatic, and very flirtatious with Layla,” I said. “And Layla hurt her ankle, he suggested massaging it might help … and it just, sort of, escalated…”
“And how did you feel, Lindsay, seeing your wife pleasured by another man?” Charlie inquired.
“Upset!” I said. “And angry. And very jealous! Somehow he convinced me that it would be good for Layla, and it would be selfish of me to deprive her of the pleasure of his fingering.”
“I … see,” said Charlie.
“The following week,” I continued, “my boss took Layla and me out for drinks. And somehow we ended up back at home, playing Truth or Dare. One thing led to another, and soon Damon was sucking Layla’s breasts and fingering her naked pussy! He dared her to give him a lap dance, you see…”
“And you … allowed that?” asked Charlie in disbelief.
“I didn’t feel like I had much choice!” I said defensively. “At least … I mean, I suppose I did, but somehow all my decisions that led to Damon fingering Layla seemed like the most reasonable option at the time. And then I went upstairs, and when I came back, Layla was bouncing up and down on Damon’s lap…”
“I’m sorry … what?” said Charlie, his eyes widening.
“I know what it sounds like!” I said. “And what it looked like at the time, frankly. But it wasn’t like that. Damon still had his underwear on.”
“Okay…” Charlie tapped his chin. “What happened next?”
I shrugged. “He, um, climaxed,” I said. “Then Dad took him home. The following Saturday, we visited my grandpa, who’s a bit of an amateur photographer … and he talked Layla into doing some modelling for him. Well, that got increasingly, um, naughty, I suppose. And then I went out to get some baby oil, and when I came back … well, Grandpa was on top of Layla, both of them naked, and he was … thrusting!”
“Your grandpa??” said Charlie.
“Yes!” I said. “But again, it wasn’t what it looked like. They were just rubbing their … their private parts together. I even had a look, just to make sure.”
“Grandpa wanted my pussy to look aroused,” said Layla, “so he encouraged me to masturbate. But that of course made him horny, and he started having a wank, but it was a little weird and awkward to masturbate in front of each other. So I suggested a mutual thing – like I did with Damon.”
“I … see,” said Charlie, tugging on his trousers again. “This is getting more and more … interesting. Do go on.”
“Anyway,” I continued, “Grandpa oiled Layla up, took some very explicit photos … and then he got her to bend over the bed so he could rub his cock on her again. Which he did. Then he had her lie down on her back, and he climbed on her and rubbed and rubbed some more, until he climaxed.”
“Still … outside?” asked Charlie, his brow furrowed.
“Well yes!” I said. “Obviously. Anyway, the following weekend my Uncle Geoff came, and he used to be a doctor, so he gave Layla a breast exam and a pelvic exam.”
“A … pelvic exam?” Charlie inquired.
“He fingered her!” I said. “Like Damon, and Kent, and Grandpa.” I threw up my hands bitterly. “Everyone gets to finger Layla! And then, later that night, he said he couldn’t sleep on the sofa, and somehow he managed to persuade me to swap places with him. And he spent the night with Layla … and of course he rubbed his cock on her pussy, just like Grandpa did. I could hear them from down in the living room, grunting and moaning and creaking the bed for ages.” I sighed.
“Incredible,” said Charlie, staring at me. “Just … fascinating. “Is there more…?”
“Oh indeed,” I grumbled. “Dad’s party. The worst thing yet! Layla ended up giving lap dances to a bunch of my dad’s friends – some of whom even stuck their cocks in her! Not her fault – she was lowered on to their cocks by chaps who were supposed to be holding her up. And the best part – one of them was my old school bully … and he ended up fucking her in her sleep! And cumming inside her! And then his dad did, too!”
“You … saw this?” asked Charlie, astonished.
I nodded. “I’d have stopped them, but they sort of blackmailed me. And I fell for it … which was stupid, because I ended up telling Layla all about it anyway. Fortunately Layla wasn’t at all traumatised by it when she woke up and I told her what happened.” I shrugged. “So that’s it. Layla’s had sex twice, I suppose – but while she was asleep, so it wasn’t cheating or anything.”
Charlie took a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. “Layla,” he said. “Would you describe Lindsay as a very … trusting husband?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said.
“Hmm.” Charlie nodded. “Lindsay … when you watched your old bully having sex with Layla … how did you feel?”
“Furious!” I said. “What made it worse was that he was verbally taunting me the whole time! He even used the horrid nickname he’d given me at school.”
“Were you,” Charlie went on, “at all … aroused?”
“What?” I said. “No! Of course not. What kind of question is that?”
“You did not have an erection while this man was fucking your wife?” Charlie pressed me.
“No!” I insisted, getting a little annoyed. “Of course I didn’t!”
Charlie nodded slowly. “Very well, just checking,” he said. “This is all very … interesting. I’d like to try a little experiment, if I may.”
“Sure,” I said, and Layla nodded.
“Layla,” said Charlie, “how much persuasion would it take for you to remove your dress, right now?”
“Almost none at all,” Layla replied, smiling shyly.
I rolled my eyes. “She does love to show off,” I said. “And I can’t blame her; she has an amazing body.”
“Okay,” said Charlie. “Remove your dress please, Layla.”
Layla turned her back on me. “Unzip me?” she said.
I took hold of her zipper, and pulled it down. Then she got up, pulled her dress down over her arms and torso, and then tugged it further down, past her hips and down her legs. She stepped out of it, picked it up, folded it, and draped it over the side of the sofa. She was not wearing a bra … and she was making no attempt to hide her breasts from Dr Tan.
“Very nice,” said the therapist, his eyes glued to her chest. “You truly have a beautiful body, Layla. I can see why men are so drawn to you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Now,” he continued, “please remove your shoes and panties.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, feeling a little wary. “Why are you asking her to get naked?”
“An experiment, as I said,” Charlie explained. “Your objection, just then, is part of the useful data that I am hoping to acquire. Go on, Layla.”
Layla pulled her panties down, then she sat back down on the sofa, and bent over to take off her shoes. Once she was naked, she sat up straight.
“I’d like to know where this is going,” I remarked uncomfortably.
“Well, there’s no need for it to remain a mystery,” said Charlie. “You see, Lindsay, whether you like it or not, your sex lives have come to revolve around Layla’s encounters with other men. It is important for me to determine how those encounters impact you, and your relationship with each other. To that end, I’d like to play the part of one of these men, and ask you a series of questions designed to assess your state of mind at each stage of the, er, seduction.”
“But I don’t want our sex lives to revolve around other men!” I said plaintively. “I want to fix what’s not working between us, so that Layla will feel less inclined to, you know, stimulate herself with other men’s cocks…”
Charlie nodded. “Of course you do,” he said. “But these encounters with other men are happening nonetheless, independently of your private time with Layla. Right now, they are the dominant feature of your sex life, and there is no reason to think they will not continue. You’re going to have to learn to deal with that.”
I groaned. I had a nasty feeling he was probably correct. “All right,” I said reluctantly.
“Layla, please come and sit on my lap,” said Charlie.
Layla obediently crossed the eight-foot distance between them, and sat down sideways on his lap. He put his arms around her middle, and smiled. “Now Lindsay,” he said. “How do you feel, seeing your wife sitting on my lap like this?”
I shrugged. “Apprehensive, I suppose. I know this is part of an experiment, so I’m not feeling quite as possessive and annoyed as I might with a different man.”
“Okay,” said Charlie, nodding. He raised his left hand, and cupped Layla’s right breast. “How about now?” he asked, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Annoyed,” I said, frowning. “But reluctantly accepting that this is just part of the experiment.”
Charlie nodded. “Tell me,” he said, “do any of these encounters involve kissing…?”
“Oh goodness yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “She kissed everyone she gave a lap dance to – most of them with tongues. She’s been tongue-kissing my dad for a while now.”
Charlie grinned. “Okay, good,” he said. “Let’s see how you feel about this…” He turned his face toward Layla’s, and pressed his lips against hers. I felt my cheeks grow hot as Layla first looked surprised, then accepting, closing her eyes and opening her mouth, willingly entwining her tongue with Charlie’s. I clenched my fists, and my whole body tensed up.
After what seemed like ages, Charlie stopped. “How are you feeling, Lindsay?” he asked.
“Upset!” I said. “Jealous and possessive!”
“And how is your cock feeling?” Charlie inquired. “Is it stirring at all?”
“No!” I replied. “Look, I know some weirdos are turned on by watching their wives with other men, but I’m not one of them!”
“Are you sure?” Charlie pressed me. “Lindsay, the fact is, most men would not take what I’m doing with your wife as well as you are. I have to consider the possibility that on some level, at least, you enjoy seeing it.”
“Well I don’t!” I protested.
“Prove it,” he said. “Take your cock out, and let’s all see how it responds.”
“I … I don’t want you seeing my cock!” I protested.
“Lindsay, there’s no need to be shy,” said Charlie. “Your wife has got naked; is she braver than you?”
I thought about this. “Yes!” I decided. “When it comes to nudity, absolutely.”
“Fair enough,” said Charlie. “Even so, I’m sure you can manage it. I’m not here to judge you; I’m here to help.”
I sighed. “All right,” I said. I unzipped my jeans, reached in, and pulled out my cock. It flopped limply on to my thigh.
Charlie stared at it. “Hmm!” he said. “I confess I was expecting something … smaller.”
I shrugged. “What good is a big cock,” I said bitterly, “if it doesn’t work properly?”
“We’ll fix that,” said Charlie. “Based on what you’ve told me, I’m sure the problem is psychological. Let’s continue. Layla, please turn so you are facing Lindsay.”
Layla stood up, turned ninety degrees, and sat back down. Charlie reached beneath her armpits with both hands, and began to knead and caress her breasts. He kissed her neck, softly, then again, a little higher up, and then again. Layla smiled, and closed her eyes.
Charlie eyed my flaccid cock. “Still nothing?” he said. “Surely, Lindsay, the sight of your naked wife is enough to inspire some sort of reaction?”
“It depends,” I admitted. “Context is everything. It probably doesn’t help that so many of the times I’ve seen Layla naked recently, she was being groped by other men. And currently, she’s on your lap. So my arousal at seeing her naked has to contend with my stress at seeing another man with her.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” said Charlie. “Let’s see if that changes when my touches become more sexual…” He reached down between Layla’s thighs, cupped her pussy with his hand, and began to massage it gently. Layla gasped, and arched her back slightly.
My cock stirred. I frowned at it. The blood that was rushing into it had nothing to do with any excitement I was feeling at Charlie molesting my wife, however. It was merely a result of my brain remembering what it felt like to do that, and imagining myself in Charlie’s position. Since I did not want Charlie to draw the former conclusion, I willed my cock back into submission.
“Nothing?” Charlie inquired. He reached forward, tucked his hands underneath Layla’s thighs, just behind her knees, and lifted them up. Pulling her knees back either side of her chest, he exposed her vaginal opening and anus to my gaze. Then he reached for her pussy, and began massaging her pussy anew. Soon he was sliding his middle finger up and down between her labia, getting closer and closer to her vagina. “Aha!” he said. “It seems you are responding to this a little.”
“Just putting myself in your shoes,” I said grumpily. “It’s not because I like what you’re doing.”
“Perhaps,” said Charlie, which annoyed me. He was clearly trying to shoehorn me into a tidy little box in which I did not belong.
I shuddered in disgust as I watched his middle finger disappearing inside Layla’s vagina. Terrific: one more addition to the growing list of men who have finger-fucked my wife in front of me. My cock, which had briefly and lethargically raised its sleepy head to have a look around, lay back down and resumed its slumber.
“Hmm!” said Charlie, noting this. “It seems you were correct, Lindsay. Fascinating! You truly are not aroused by what I am doing.”
“I did tell you!” I said, feeling vindicated.
“And yet,” he went on, “you did show signs of empathetic arousal. I believe we can use this to your advantage. Stand up please, Layla.”
Layla lowered her legs, and got to her feet. Charlie got up too, and he turned Layla to face his chair. “Put your hands on the seat,” he said. She did so, bending over with her bottom towards me. Charlie smiled at me, and placed his hand on Layla’s right buttock, giving it a squeeze. “Up you get, Lindsay,” he said. “We’re going to try something.”
I got up and stood where he was gesturing, just to Layla’s right and a little behind her. “Should I, um, put my cock away?” I asked nervously.
“Nope,” he said. “You’re going to need it. Hopefully!” He turned toward Layla, unzipped his trousers, and pulled them down, along with his bright red boxer shorts. His erect cock sprang up, ready for action.
“Hey!” I said, alarmed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to rub my cock on your wife’s pussy,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your job is to imagine yourself in my place. Can you do that?”
“I suppose so,” I said uncomfortably, and then I had to endure the sight of Charlie rubbing the head of his erect penis up and down Layla’s pussy, from her vaginal opening down out of sight along the groove between her labia to her unseen clitoris, and back again. Layla began to breathe heavily.
“Are you imagining?” asked Charlie. “You’re still pretty soft.”
“I … I’m getting there,” I said awkwardly. To help things along, I began to masturbate, clutching the head of my cock and pumping it slowly.
“Good,” said Charlie, nodding. “Watch my cock become coated in your wife’s juices. Don’t you wish it was yours?”
I did. I so badly wanted it to by my cock there, standing out so hard and proud, ready to thrust inside her. But I was still only marginally erect; it did not even count as a semi.
“I see we’re going to have to raise the stakes,” said Charlie, and to my horror, he paused with the head of his penis nuzzling against Layla’s vaginal opening … then began to push it inward.
“No!” I cried, aghast, as more and more of his shaft disappeared inside my wife. “You didn’t say you were going to do this!”
Layla moaned with pleasure.
“Focus!” Charlie instructed me firmly. “You can do this, Lindsay! I’m inside Layla now. Her hot vagina is clamped around my cock. It feels amazing. Don’t you wish this was your cock inside her?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
“Then imagine it!” Charlie ordered me. “Think yourself into my place! Visualise being inside this gorgeous woman!”
I tried! And … it worked. Sort of. My cock thickened and lengthened in my hand, and although it did not reach full hardness, it was something worth celebrating. “It’s working!” I said.
“Great!” said Charlie, suddenly pulling out of Layla. “Now shove it in!” He stood aside, and gestured to Layla’s dark, moist, slight gaping orifice.
I hastily stepped up, and pushed my semi-erect cock against Layla’s vaginal opening. Too thick to slide in easily, and too soft to force its way in, it folded up like a raw sausage, causing me to wince, and dampening my enthusiasm. I tried again, and again, but each time was more desperate than the last, as my cock softened and shrank.
“Okay, back up,” said Charlie. “I think we jumped the gun a bit there. Don’t worry! We almost had it; let’s keep going.” As I stepped back, he took my place, sank his erection back into Layla, and began thrusting, while holding on to her hips.
I tried massaging my cock back into life, but it was a slow process. After a couple of minutes, I was as hard as I had been when I had tried entering Layla – which was not very.
“Are you almost hard yet?” Charlie asked. “I can only last so long inside a vagina of this quality…”
“Don’t rush me!” I snapped. “I’m trying.”
“My apologies, Lindsay,” said Charlie. “You are absolutely right. Take all the time you need. I will slow down a bit.” He slackened his pace, and I stared enviously at his rigid cock, sliding smoothly in and out of my wife’s vagina. He seemed to have no problems at all remaining hard! What was wrong with me?
“Okay, let me try again!” I said. My cock was a little harder than before, but it was still not fully rigid; it was very difficult to concentrate on getting erect when in the company of another man – one whose sexual prowess was significantly greater than mine.
As Charlie pulled out and stepped back, my brain betrayed me again. I could not help thinking how lucky Charlie was to have a smaller cock, a functioning cock, a cock that got hard when it was supposed to, and stayed that way. Whereas my fat, floppy member, eight inches of rubbery pork sausage, was fruitlessly trying to squeeze into too small and tight a hole, getting sadder and floppier by the second, bending and folding up like a damp rag…
“Ugh, it’s useless!” I groaned, stepping away again and trying to work some life back into my drooping appendage.
“Once again, I think,” said Charlie, “you tried to enter her too soon. And I think perhaps you defeated yourself mentally, too, yes?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” I admitted, as I forlornly pumped my soft, shrivelled cock.
Charlie shoved his erection back inside Layla, and gripped her hips firmly while he fucked her with powerful strokes. “Imagine this is you!” he said. “Imagine yourself confidently taking possession of your wife’s body. Imagine yourself vigorously pounding her pussy with your strong, thick cock!”
“Ahhh … ahhh!” Layla moaned. She was clearly getting a lot of pleasure from Charlie’s expert fucking.
“You can do this!” Charlie told me firmly. “You can be in my place! God, this feels so amazing … come on, Lindsay! Work that big cock or yours! Bring it back to life! You can do it!”
I tried! I tried so hard! I thrashed my cock as hard and fast as I could, masturbating desperately while Charlie energetically fucked my wife right in front of me. Layla’s moans were escalating in pitch and volume; Charlie’s thrusting was speeding up, as if he was building to his own climax. Frantically I continued to masturbate, pumping as hard as I could, my arm tiring, tears welling up in my eyes as my semi-tumid penis refused to harden any further.
“Oh God this feels so good!” gasped Charlie. “I can’t hold back any longer! Are you ready, Lindsay?”
“No!” I wailed, tears beginning to run down my cheeks as my cock resolutely refused to get any stiffer. In fact, if anything, it seemed to be softening again. I pumped faster than ever, as a sob escaped my lips.
“Ahhhhhhh!” Charlie groaned, shuddering and driving his erection deep inside Layla. He was filling her with his semen, I knew, and it was all my fault. My stupid, useless penis had betrayed me; it had allowed another man’s cock to do its job.
Charlie took a few moments to recover. Then he slowly withdrew his slippery, glistening cock from inside Layla. “I apologise,” he panted. “I … I went too far. I’m sorry – I had got so close … I couldn’t resist.”
I was feeling far too ashamed and angry with myself to feel much anger toward Charlie. It seemed to me that he had done his very best to help me have sex with Layla, but I was simply not up to the task. I was a lost cause.
I wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, Layla!” I said. “I tried so hard!”
“It’s okay,” she said breathlessly. “It’s okay.”
“No it isn’t,” I said miserably, as I tucked away my cock and zipped my jeans up. I sat down dejectedly on the sofa, feeling about as low as I ever had. “I just couldn’t do it, Layla!”
She came over and sat down beside me, putting her arm around me. “Hush, babe,” she said softly. “It was just one experiment. So it didn’t work – so what? We’ll try something else.”
“Indeed!” said Charlie, going back to his chair and sitting down. “This is only our first session, after all. Lindsay, don’t be so hard on yourself. You threw your heart and soul into that effort. I’m sorry it didn’t pay off, but Layla’s right: it was just one experiment. There are other strategies we can employ. Ones that, ahem, don’t involve me cumming inside your wife.”
I shuddered. Then I gasped. “Oh no!” I said. “What if you get pregnant, Layla?”
“Oh!” said Charlie, looking guilty. “That’s right … you’re not on the pill!” Then he frowned. “But you said … your old school bully, and his dad … did they not ejaculate inside Layla too?”
I squirmed uncomfortably. “I, um, I sort of … sucked it out.”
Layla pursed her lips tightly, and patted my knee.
“Oh!” said Charlie, looking astonished. “Wow … um … well, are you going to do the same with mine…?”
I grimaced, and looked at Layla, who shook her head. “It’s okay babe,” she said. “I don’t expect you to do that.”
“But what if you get pregnant?” I asked urgently.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Charlie smiled. “Well that’s the end of today’s session,” he said. “But we’ve spent all of this time focused on you, Lindsay, and your state of mind. And I feel like I really put you through the wringer! I’m sure you would like a break before we get together again. Next time I would like to work solely with Layla, if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” I said dolefully. I was quite happy not to have to go through this again next time.
“Whatever you think is best,” said Layla.
Charlie nodded. “Splendid! I’ll see you at the same time next week then, Layla.” He stood up. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you both.” He extended his hand, and I shook it.
In the car on the way to Layla’s workplace, I was feeling very depressed. And worried. “Layla,” I said, “I’m worried about you getting pregnant…”
She sighed. “Lindsay,” she said, “I’m already pregnant.”
I almost swerved off the road. “What???”
“Careful!” she said, putting her hand up on the dashboard.
“What do you mean, you’re pregnant?” I asked, horrified. “We’ve never had sex! How are you pregnant? I know Chez and Reg came inside you … I thought I’d removed all their sperm … but surely it’s too soon to know…”
“It’s not either of theirs,” she said.
“Then … whose?” I asked, feeling increasingly upset.
She looked uncomfortable, and fidgeted with the hem of her dress. But then she smiled, and turned toward me. “Remember the last hand-job I gave you, a few weeks ago in our bedroom?” she asked.
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Well,” she continued, “you know how you came all over my hand … and then I masturbated afterwards? I … well, I was rubbing pretty close to my vagina … and I’m guessing some of your sperm was on my fingers, and ended up inside me...”
I gasped. “Oh … wow!” I exclaimed. “So … I’m going to be a dad! Even though we haven’t had sex!”
“Looks like it!” she said, patting my arm.
“Oh, that makes me happy!” I said joyfully. “Maybe my cock isn’t so useless after all!”
“Of course it isn’t useless,” said Layla with a smile. “So, we’re going to have a baby. Can we talk about where we’ll live…?”
I was riding on a cloud of happiness. I was going to be a dad! “Well,” I said, “I know you’d like to stay where we are, and since you’re already pregnant, perhaps that would be the best plan. Let’s stay with Dad, and turn the spare room into a baby room.”
Layla beamed. “Thank you!” she said. “Yes, let’s do that.” She thought for a moment. “Do you want us to give your dad the good news…? Or keep it to ourselves for a while…? It’s very early in the pregnancy; anything could happen…”
“Hmm,” I said. “Let’s keep it a secret for the time being. We’ll pick a good time to tell him.”
“Okay,” she said.
We arrived at Layla’s office, I dropped her off, and then I headed to work. I got very little done for the rest of that day; I was so tickled at the thought of being a father. And without even having had sex yet!
I drove home, helped Layla make dinner, and then sat down with her and Dad in the living room. As we watched television, though, I could barely concentrate. Eventually I blurted out, “Dad, we have some news!”
Layla, who of course was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, turned to look at me in surprise. Then she picked up her napkin, and wiped her mouth. “You sure?” she asked quietly.
I nodded eagerly.
Dad looked in surprise at Layla. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes!” I said excitedly. “We’re going to have a baby!”
Dad raised an eyebrow at Layla. “Really?” he said. “And, um…” He hesitated for a moment, then he smiled. “Congratulations, both of you! That’s wonderful news.”
“And we’ve decided to stay here with you,” said Layla, “and turn the spare room back into a bedroom. A baby room.”
“Even better!” said Dad. “That’s … oh, that’s brilliant! Thank you! I would suggest celebrating with a glass of wine, but … no more wine for Layla!”
“No,” she said ruefully. “But you two can go ahead and drink. I don’t mind. I’ll just have some squash, and celebrate the reason why I can’t have alcohol!”
So Dad and I drank, and I got a little tipsy. Midway through the evening, Dad and Layla got a little frisky, and Layla lost her panties. When I returned from the bathroom, around ten o’clock, I found them both naked; she was on his lap, bouncing up and down. A very familiar sight these days.
I pouted as I watched them. “I suppose the two of you will be spending the night together again?” I asked, a little grumpily.
Layla stopped bouncing, and settled down, wiggling her hips. “If you wouldn’t mind, please, yes,” she panted.
“You know, Lindsay,” said Dad, also panting. “Layla and I were talking … since she and I are so, um, sexually active together, and you and she aren’t so much … and she tends to sleep with me most nights anyway … would you mind if she and I take the master bedroom? And you take your old room back? That’ll be nice for you, won’t it? Lot of memories there…”
I stared at him, aghast. The idea did make sense, from a logistical standpoint, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. “You mean … permanently?”
Layla nodded sheepishly. “We can revisit the idea,” she said, “if you and I figure out our … sex issues. But in the meantime, I think this would be more practical…”
I felt tears come to my eyes. “If … if that’s what you want,” I heard myself saying. “Okay – sure – I’ll go and start moving my stuff…”
“Thanks Lindsay,” said Dad, and he closed his eyes as Layla resumed bouncing. “Oh yes … but let’s change position…” He stood up, Layla holding herself in place with her legs wrapped around his back, and then he laid her down on her back along the full length of the sofa. He started thrusting, and Layla moaned passionately.
“Kiss me Daddy!” she gasped, and as Dad continued humping her, he tongued her mouth deeply with horrible slurping sounds. I could not help thinking his cock must be rubbing her pussy raw, he was thrusting so fast.
“Well … I’ll just go and do that then,” I said sadly.
As I moved my things back to my old room, I cheered myself up with the thought of becoming a dad. That was something, at least. It more than made up for the heartbreak of losing Layla as a sleeping partner.
Layla and Dad came up not long afterwards, and they helped me to swap clothes and other belongings between the master bedroom and Dad’s room … or rather my room, as it was once, and was again now. Then we all got ready for bed, and Layla came into my room to kiss me goodnight.
“I love you,” I told her tearfully. “And I can’t wait to raise our baby with you.”
“I love you too,” she replied, kissing me on the lips. “And I’m looking forward to the baby too. Goodnight babe.”
“Goodnight,” I said. And I climbed into bed, while Layla returned to the master bedroom to sleep with my dad.