Prescription:
An Enthusiastic Fucking
by Sterling
Chapter 9 of 11
Jon
loved his time with Tina. As his body edged its way deliciously towards
orgasm, he thought about how hot she was. "Sweet, cunt fuck," he
moaned. "I'm reaming my shaft up your pussy hole, oh, you're just built
for fucking! I've got an ocean of cum -- I'll drown you in it, here it
comes, baby, oh shit, Unnnnhhhhhhh!" he said as he wallowed once more
in the ecstasy derived from his most primitive male reflex. All was
right with the world. His monologue and his very thinking had taken on
a predatory slant, where he framed his wild thrusts as a dominance over
her, taking his own pleasure in total disregard for how she might feel.
She had nudged him towards it, though, greeting his tentative crude
expressions about her anatomy and purpose in life with sheer delight.
It was a role he loved playing -- at least it was mostly a role. Her
look of adoration when he was in the throes of orgasm was a wonderful
touch.
They were meeting behind her parents' back, driving off
to their favorite secluded spot after school. He had been happy to
agree to do it to her once a month, which was the most frequent anyone
suggested for sex when the purpose was to keep the girl healthy. When
she had suggested doing it every three weeks, then every two, he had
been happy to go along. When he was treating girls, he made a point of
abstaining from intercourse for at least 24 hours beforehand. But as he
realized that many of their episodes were for their mutual pleasure
instead of treatment, he felt fine screwing her a mere 12 or 6 or 2
hours after his last ejaculation. It felt great to both of them whether
he was injecting her with a full load or a partial one.
One day
she showed up with a vibrator, explaining how it felt really good down
in her kitty area, not just kind of nice. He said he'd love to watch
while she used it. She did for a little while, but said she was
embarrassed. When he did slide into her, she said it felt more tingly
than usual. But when he asked, she said she never felt any sort of peak
feeling or a release.
"I wish I could do this with you every
day," she said one day after his softening cock had plopped out of her.
"Would you like that too?"
"Yeah, that would be fantastic."
She snuggled up against him. "Could we? I mean, is there any reason why
not?"
"I do have a job, and then there are many other girls who I treat so
they stay healthy. That's the main reason I'm doing this."
"Oh." After a pause, she said, "I hear there are a lot more men now to
do it to the girls. I wish they could do the other ones."
Jon
was getting a little uncomfortable with the direction the conversation
was going. His sex with Tina was fantastic, and he liked the girl, but
it was just sex. Loving sex, but just sex. He was delighted that she
enjoyed it so much, of course.
"I'm your favorite one, right?"
"I have a great time with you, Tina."
"Could you be happy doing it just with me? You'd feel satisfied,
wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes, I feel very satisfied when we do it."
"Do you love me?"
"Sure I love you, you're wonderful," he said, patting her back.
"I wish we could be together, just the two of us."
"Ummm, I am married, you know."
"Yeah...
Maybe I could stay in a little cottage out behind your house and you
could be my lover and come to me every night -- then go back to sleep
with your wife, I guess. But you'd love me so much you'd come back
first thing in the morning."
"It's a nice fantasy, I understand. I remember feeling that way a long
time ago. To be totally in love with someone."
"I'm totally in love with you."
This was not good, Jon reflected.
He
reluctantly discussed the situation with the counselor provided by the
agency, and she agreed that it had gotten out of hand. What she
suggested he do next time was much like what he would have done.
"I
can't wait to get out of my panties," Tina said as she hopped into his
SUV. She knew they had to hide all traces of their relationship until
the car was stopped in their secluded lane. "Every night I use my
vibrator to get nice and warm and I'm always thinking of you on me,
over me, and poking into me as I fall asleep."
"Tina..." he said. "This isn't right."
"Yes it is. I've never felt so happy in my life."
She babbled on as they drove, sticking her hand up under her dress when
there was no one to see.
He turned off the engine when they reached their spot on the lane and
turned to her.
"Tina, listen to me."
"Yes?"
"This is serious, Tina. I think we're going to have to stop seeing each
other."
"But -- "
"Let
me finish. You should never be doing this kind of thing at all at your
age, except for the damned virus. Most of the girls just put up with
the sex like they are getting a shot or something. Some enjoy it, and
that's OK. But it's still supposed to be just a little sidelight to
life. Your life is supposed to be all about friends and school and
stuff -- you're just a girl. You're not supposed to be thinking about
sex all the time."
"But I love you."
Jon sighed. "I know
you do. But it's no good. I'm a married man, with a daughter and a
career. I'm way older than you and have different things in my life. I
help other girls to keep them from getting sick."
"So... maybe we should go back to every two weeks?"
"No, we have to stop seeing each other entirely."
"But you love it so much when we do it!"
"Yes, I do, but that's just sex. We have to stop seeing each other."
"If
we can't see each other..." she said, eyes wide and vulnerable,
considering a tragedy of gargantuan proportions, "I won't be able to go
on living. I'll kill myself."
"Oh, I know it feels that way.
Boys and girls have felt this way forever, and they eventually get over
it. I did, a long time ago."
"No one feels the way I do!" she said hotly. "No one could love anyone
the way I love you!"
Jon knew it was pointless to argue. He and the counselor had agreed on
that.
"I'm sorry if I've hurt you," was all he could come up with.
"Can we do it just once more? One last time?" she said, biting her lip.
The right answer was "No." He knew it, and the counselor had said so
too.
But there she was, pleading, looking so sad. He had hurt her -- could
he do this one last thing for her?
"OK," he said. "One last time."
He
admired the naked girl body laid out below him, and reflected wistfully
that he'd never get to delve into that particular vagina again. But in
he delved one last time, loving the sensations. There was her face,
eager for his pleasure -- too eager. She would do anything. Partly she
was in denial, and partly he knew she hoped against hope that he would
change his mind -- especially if it were a fantastic enough experience.
He skipped his usual sexy banter. He had the sense she was pretending
to feel more pleasure than she was. His own orgasm felt wonderful, as
usual, though a little sad.
She clung to him like a limpet when he lay down to catch his breath.
"Come
on," he said, and the girl reluctantly got dressed and resumed her
position in the front seat. Conversation was strained as they drove
back to near her house.
"Goodbye, it's been wonderful knowing you, and I'm so sorry," he said
as she got out.
She didn't meet his eye and slammed the door.
When
Tina's mother called to give him a piece of her mind, he listened
patiently and apologized over and over. He gulped when she reported
that her husband said he was going to kill him, but decided he was
probably not in any real danger. The agency called the family and
applied their professional wisdom to defuse the situation. Tina emailed
him and called him. He hung up on the calls, and answered the emails at
first, expressing his caring for her, his regret, and his firm
determination never to see her again. As the agency recommended, he
responded less and less often, finally saying it would be his last
reply and keeping to his word.
And Tina eventually got over him, as jilted girls almost always do.
There
was no legal action, of course. Their initial sex had been arranged to
save her life. While their later liaisons were against her parents'
wishes, they were justified by her desire to avoid recurrence of the
Lolita Syndrome and had most definitely been with her consent.
Ah yes, the woman he had gagged and left tied up in the bathtub on
their one and only meeting.
"Hello, Mrs. Smythe."
"I do not wish to discuss the incident between us. I'm sure our
opinions on the subject are very different," she said stiffly.
"I'm sure they are," he agreed.
"I
am thankful to you for treating Betsy's condition, though I feel
certain it could have been done better in a different fashion by a
different man. Be that as it may, that is not why I am calling you.
"My
custody of Betsy is under review. However unjustified I feel that is,
one of their requirements is that I arrange for Betsy to receive
treatment to head off a recurrence of the Lolita Syndrome. The
counselors say you would be the best man to do that job. So I am
formally asking if you would be willing to perform that service."
"Certainly," Jon said gravely. "That would be acceptable, if that is
what the counselors think would be best."
"Hi,
Betsy," he said, entering her room. Her mother had pointedly gone out
for a drive, saying she would return when he called her.
The
room was transformed. Instead of the middle of the night, it was
afternoon, sun streaming through the curtains. Instead of dirty
clothes, basins, and the smell of sickness, all was clean and shiny,
the bed neatly made.
The girl herself was also transformed. Her
lustrous blond hair was neatly combed. The sunlight playing on it gave
the appearance of a halo that Jon had to remind himself was just an
illusion. The sun made her white dress gleam. Her face was symmetric,
her big blue eyes set wide. The sun also highlighted the fine tiny
hairs on her shoulder. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on her body. She
wore no socks or shoes, so he could confirm the perfection of skin all
the way from her knees to the tips of her toes.
She sat demurely with hands in her lap, looking down. She raised her
gaze only briefly. "Hi," she said.
"You are looking positively wonderful today," he said.
She nodded shyly. "Thanks."
Compliments on her appearance were probably so common to her they were
boring.
"You look way, way better than you did last time."
At
that she looked up and smiled. "I'm sorry I was so difficult." Her
white teeth were beautiful when they no longer needed to be regarded as
weapons. "I talked to Wanda -- she's my counselor -- a lot about the
biting. I know my mommy felt really mad when I said I didn't mind it
the first time that guy had sex with me, and Wanda thinks I was trying
to be the way she wanted."
"Hmmm. That makes sense. As for me, I'm sorry I was so rough with you,"
he said. "You remember why?"
"Sure. You saved my life. Even if you maybe didn't have to be
quite that
rough, you were making sure."
"That's
right," he said. He didn't mention how terribly erotic the rape had
been for him. This was a totally different situation; raping this
transformed girl was out of the question.
As he sat on the bed, she reached over and gave him a squeeze, planting
a slurpy kiss on his cheek. "Thanks."
They just sat. He was supposed to get naked with this angel and violate
her private parts? It just didn't seem possible.
"So... What should I do?" she finally asked quietly.
"Oh, um, do you really want me to... you know? ... do it?" he asked
lamely.
"Well, I don't want to get sick," she answered sensibly.
"OK," he gulped. "Then take off -- no, wait. Just sit there a moment."
He
stripped slowly, and was almost apologetic when he removed his
underpants to reveal a half-hard cock. No angel should have to look at
something as -- mundane and awkward-looking and carnal as that.
She stole quick glances at it.
"Now
lie back," he whispered, and she did. Positioning himself below her, he
nudged her legs apart a little and looked in slack-jawed wonder at the
angel. She smiled at him pleasantly. The hem of her dress covered her
to mid-thigh.
His penis hardened completely. It almost felt like someone was stroking
it, even though it just jutted into empty space.
He
slowly slid her dress up to see the perfect skin of thighs narrowing
together. He was prepared to see angelic white panties appear at the
junction, but instead he saw angelic girl skin, a little girl's slit
with a drop of moisture right where the lips joined.
He felt a
little dizzy and the sensation of something caressing his penis
intensified. He then realized his orgasm was starting. He was in grave
danger of befouling this angel and her dress with his vulgar, carnal
gloppy sperm.
He quickly lunged forward, spreading her lips with
one hand and aiming his bulging prick tip. He was still an inch away
when his penis very rudely rocketed out a white clot that hit the girl
right at the peak of her slit.
But the angel conjured up her own
carnal side to match his, and his tip plunged between hot, wet female
lips before he gave a second shot. He had barely worked his tip into
her vagina proper when his third pulse came, finally depositing some
sperm more or less where it was supposed to go. He slid into the angel
up to the hilt for the final few mostly dry contractions of his orgasm.
He
was tempted to relax, remove his intruding organ and let the girl turn
back to 100% angel again. But he remembered that he needed to mate with
her vigorously for the treatment to be effective. So he plunged in,
lowered his body onto the girl, and began fast thrusting with guttural
grunts. His penis started softening, however, and within a minute it
wouldn't stay inside her any more, so he slid off to the side.
"That was quick!" she said brightly. "Way different from before."
"Yeah,"
he said. It bothered him to think that his sperm was going to stain her
white dress. Would God strike him down for befouling her angel clothes?
But that was inevitable, right? Anyway, this angel business was just an
illusion.
"I'm... I'm not sure that was enthusiastic and zestful enough," he said.
"Yeah, I don't know," she answered. "What should we do?"
"I think I need to come back in a few days and try again."
In
the experience of the agency, the need for a second try was common
enough, though premature ejaculation was rarely the reason. It was an
excess of enthusiasm, not a shortage, but it still didn't meet the
girl's needs.
The next time he entered Betsy's bedroom, the sun was shining, but at
least it wasn't shining on her.
She
moved into position. He didn't see how a girl could remain a creature
of the religious imagination while lying back naked and spreading her
legs, but she managed it.
As his engorged penis tip made contact
with her grown-up-sized pussy lips, she remained angelic for another
instant. The moment he felt wetness, though, she became a real girl.
She smiled a little as he felt his tip start pressing into her vagina
itself, and those bright teeth reminded him of that other creature of
the religious imagination she had resembled the first time he had met
her.
Now she was just a human girl, if the most perfect exemplar
of the kind he had ever experienced. Her body was unblemished and it
glowed. She wasn't sexually aroused, but she was wet and smooth and
deep inside. She wanted him to do just what he was doing. She was kind,
she was honest, and her psyche was in harmony with itself and the world.
He
felt a little guilty being crude with an angel, but when he reminded
himself it was necessary the guilt turned to a special excitement.
He
fondled her everywhere he could reach, he crushed her under his weight,
he licked her face, grunted in her ear, told her what a pretty fuck she
was. Through it all, his penis humped into her big-girl vagina, getting
stiffer and larger with each intrusion, pleasure coursing to his brain
with every stroke.
"Oh, Betsy, oh dear, you fucking angel, ahhh, ohhh, uuuunnnnnnhhhhh!"
he groaned as he splatted her upper cunt with his sperm.
When he had recovered a little, she said, "You talk kind of nasty, but
you're supposed to, right?"
"Yeah."
"I
kind of like it," she said with a little grin, "compared to some of
that stuff you did that other time... But, did you have a good time? It
looked like you did."
"Oh, man, it was great," he said.
"Oh, I'm so glad," said the little girl earnestly, squeezing him with
her arms.
Despite the sperm oozing from her pussy, the little angel was back, and
Jon was in heaven.