*************** ADULTS ONLY ***************
The Loveable Ladies of Libido Lane
(C) by Erotin Thraller
*********************************************

While my wife Ann and I became increasingly involved with our 
neighbors living on either side of us, there were other events 
taking place around the city ...matters of which we were totally 
unaware.  Nor did we have any idea how they would later come to 
impact our lives and the nature of all the residents on Libido 
Lane.  One such event was unfolding in a medical clinic, where 
Jim and Nikki struggled to deal with Jim's cancer.  I'll let Jim 
tell his own story.

Chapter 18 - Taste of Love

My name is Jim, and I'm a cancer survivor.  For that I am 
grateful.  To become a survivor, however, involved a process of 
pure misery.  Now that the cancer is gone, I'll let you decide if 
I'm lucky.  Or tragic.

Let's begin with when I was diagnosed with cancer.  I had this 
pain in my back.  That's all, just a twinge.  It came, then went.  
Until one day it came but did not go away.  The doctor ordered a 
scan to see what was happening.  When he gave me the results, I 
nearly croaked.  I mean, I thought the end had come.  My end.  Or 
at least my end was near.  Even the doctor admitted that death 
was a distinct possibility.  As it has turned out, however, the 
diagnosis was just the beginning.  

"The cancer itself is hard enough to treat," he explained.  "The 
real problem," he continued, "goes far beyond the cancer."  He 
paused, while I waited for the other shoe to drop.  It fell like 
a piano falling from the fourth-floor window.  "You see," the 
doctor paused again, like he was afraid to give me the news.  
"The tumor is growing right up against your spine.  In fact, it's 
already involved one of your vertebrae."

"You mean, I may as well begin planning my funeral?" I asked, 
deciding to start with the worst possible scenario as minute by 
minute I grew increasingly more terrified.

"I didn't say that."  He paused and sighed heavily, 

"Can't you just cut it out?" I asked.  "You know, surgery?" 

"I wish it were that simple," the doctor replied.  "The truth is 
...well, I might as well be blunt ...removing the tumor surgically 
might actually leave you paralyzed from the waist down."

"It what...?" I began.  

"Well," he took a deep breath, "here's the deal.  You feel the 
pain in your back, but the tumor is attached to the front of your 
spine.  We would have to go in through your abdomen to remove it.  
To deal with the damage to your spine, we would have to open your 
back.  Quite frankly, I doubt that your body could handle such a 
double invasion."  He paused again before continuing, "And even 
then, I don't know that we can replace the involved vertebra 
without damage to your spinal column."

"So what are you suggesting?" I asked.  "Where do we go from 
here?"

"Well, first of all, we can give you a series of anti-inflatory 
treatments to prepare your body for such drastic surgery.  That 
will take a couple of weeks.  During that time," he smiled, "you 
need to put all your affairs in order, you know, just in case."  
He took a deep breath.  So did I.  "Then we will do the surgery, 
and if all goes well, we will begin the standard cancer 
procedures.  Chemo.  Radiation.  You'll already be weak from such 
extensive surgery, so they will be rough on you.  The chemo, of 
course, will affect your entire body."

"I'll lose my hair?"  

"Of course.  And the radiation will take its toll.  There are 
many possible side effects.  One is certain:  You will definitely 
become sterile."

"I guess I can live with that," I agreed, already too numb to 
care, "if it means I won't die."

"Please remember," he said, "there's no guarantee.  Any one of 
these steps may be too much for you.  And you may go through it 
all and still end up paralyzed. Or worse yet, the cancer may 
return later on."

Like I said earlier, that's how it all began.  I can't tell you 
much about the next part because I became so spaced out on pain-
killers and medical side-effects that I wasn't really aware of 
what went on, much less be able to describe it for you now.  
Anyhow, obviously, I survived the surgery.  The tumor is gone.  
The surgeons decided at the last minute not even to try to 
replace the damaged vertebra, but instead to repair it.  And that 
is when everything became truly interesting.

It was a couple of months later, after the chemo, which left me 
completely hairless, and after the radiation, which rendered me 
totally sterile, that I began to feel good enough to move around 
some.  That was hard, because the doctors insisted I wear a hard-
shell plastic body brace.  What a bummer!  It covered most of my 
torso and held my back straight while my spine began to heal.  
The doctors continued to run additional scans week after week to 
see how my healing progressed.

It was the fourth week after surgery that the horrible day came.  
It was absolutely terrible for me.  Apparently it was no better 
for the doctor.  He brought his Nurse Practitioner into the 
examination room with him, gave me the news that my spine was not 
healing correctly, then he hurried out of the room.  I simply 
sat.  Stunned.  Staring.  Sick.  I wanted to throw up.  The Nurse 
Practitioner looked as though she felt the same way.

I had met her a few times previously, but this was the first time 
she had settled down to talk at any length with me.  Maybe the 
doctor thought she could cheer me, because she was quite cute.  
And she had a really engaging smile.  Plus a contagious laugh.  
Her name was Nikki.

"There's something new we want to try," she began.  "It's one of 
the new genetic modification programs."  She paused a for several 
seconds, looking me straight in the eye, as if to make sure I was 
really listening.  "Have you heard of genetic repair?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I answered.  "At least, I think I remember 
reading something about it."

"So tell me what you remember?" she instructed.

"Well, I think what I read dealt with putting animal DNA in 
veggies.  Didn't they take stuff from a pig and put it in a 
tomato so it would stay fresh longer?"

"Something like that," Nikki laughed.  I found myself relaxing as 
she laughed.  That was good.  "I'm not sure if that's how it 
works, but there's a lot of DNA testing going on these days.  
Scientists are going wild playing around with the new genome 
map."

"So you want to give me genes from a pig?  Or a tomato?" I asked.

"Neither," she laughed again.  "And it's not the whole gene.  
They use only a small part.  This program involves infusing you 
with the DNA from an animal which has the characteristics you're 
missing in your own genetic code."

"Sounds gross," I told her.

"It is," she agreed, "because it involves a lot of testing."

"As if I haven't had enough of that already," I muttered.

"This will be different.  For you, though, it's a lot less 
complicated.  The hard part is all what happens back in the lab."

"So what kind of testing?"

"Regular blood draws," she explained.  "The first week, a unit of 
blood will be drawn.  The lab will test it, then select the 
proper DNA to modify it.  That will take about a week.  Then your 
unit of the modified blood will be reintroduced, like a blood 
transfusion.  Before they do, however, we'll draw another unit of 
blood from you, and..."  Once more she paused, apparently waiting 
for me to absorb what she said.  "...then a week later," she 
continued, "new blood will be drawn, and you'll get a transfusion 
of the second unit of modified blood.  Each new unit of blood 
will be modified and then re-infused into your vein."

"How long does all this take?" I asked, because right then the 
thought of coming in every week to have a tube hooked up to my 
arm was not at all appealing.

"We don't know.  That depends on results."  She paused before 
adding, "And any possible side effects."

"Side effects?"  That thought made me cringe and my toes curl.  
"What kind of side effects?"  I was already full of blasted side 
effects, like being a sterile baldy. 

"Who knows?  Quite frankly, we're experimenting.  This has never 
been done before, so we'll be on uncharted waters."

"Okay, so I'm to become your guinea pig, right?"

"Not quite."

"Then what kind of animal will I become?"

Nikki laughed.  "Oh, you'll still be your same nasty self, except 
I hope you'll grow a stronger vertebra to replace the one the 
cancer has destroyed."

"That part I like," I told her, but this stuff they mix in my 
blood, what kind of animal will they use?"

"I have no idea.  That's the job of the lab people.  They will 
check your DNA and determine what is lacking and what you will 
need.  Hopefully, they will identify what you're missing that 
they will be able to replace.  Then they'll select the proper 
donor.  Chances are, you may never learn what animal is actually 
used."

"Oh, so I really am going to be a guinea pig.  Do I get a cage 
with an exercise wheel?"

Nikki didn't laugh.  Instead, she was all business, "Well, that's 
the program, as best I understand it.  Are you interested?"

"What choice do it have?  I want to live.  And I don't want to be 
paralyzed."  

So just that simply, it was decided.  My future was determined.  
And in ways I never dreamed, my life was totally changed.  

A week later I had the first blood draw.  The following week more 
blood was drawn, and I received the first infusion.  There was no 
immediate effect, and I noticed no change.  Neither were there 
any side effects.  Or so I thought.

Except for Misty.  I guess I haven't yet told you about her.  
Misty had been my girlfriend since our second year of high 
school.  Even through college, even though we both dated other 
people, we claimed each other as SO's.  We just assumed that one 
day we would get married, like as soon as we both were 
established in our careers.  Indeed, she was well on her way.  
She was already the office manager in the plant where she worked, 
and last year I was named second vice-president of a brokerage 
firm.  The future looked good.  For both of us.  Then came the 
cancer.  And the treatments.  And this weird program to deal with 
my spinal problems.

One night ...it was during the second week of the experiment ...our 
love-making took a U-turn.  No, more exactly, it hit dead end.  
Bluntly speaking, I couldn't get it up.  Maybe Robert Dole can go 
on TV and admit he was impotent, but for me it was totally 
humiliating.  It was bad enough knowing I was sterile, but 
complete erectile dysfunction was a sudden devastation.  

Misty took it personally.  She decided there must be something 
wrong with her.  Or maybe I no longer found her appealing.  And 
once she started blaming me, she couldn't stop.  She accused me 
of having an affair at work.  Or maybe I was making up all this 
stuff about my surgery.

To her credit, I have to realize that she had never been sick a 
day in her life, so she had no understanding of medical matters.  
She knew virtually nothing about health procedures, their dangers 
or their effects.  In fact, she had held quite aloof from the 
entire treatment of my cancer.  She considered it my problem, not 
hers, and didn't even come visit me in the hospital.  As far as 
she was concerned, medical problems could be solved forty-eight 
minutes into the hour, just before the final commercial, because 
that's how it was always that way in TV's medical sit-coms. 

The next night, we tried again, and once more she failed to get a 
rise out me.  That's the last I saw of her.  The cancer was bad 
enough.  The confining brace was worse.  Losing Misty, just when 
I really needed her understanding and support, was outright 
outrageous.  I nearly lost it right then.  Especially when it 
dawned on me that my dong was more important to her than any of 
the rest of me.  That hurt.  I never saw her again.

More weeks passed.  The experimental program continued.  Every 
Wednesday I had blood drawn, then received my infusion of 
modified blood.  After that, I sat around for a couple of hours 
to make certain there was no reaction.

Except for the annoyance of having a nurse insert the needle in 
my arm, the entire process was rather boring.  I learned rather 
soon to take something with me to read, since all the magazines 
in the rack were months old.  After a time, I even became 
casually acquainted with a few of the other regular patients in 
the Infusion Center, but for the most part they were a sad lot.  
I wished I had someone to cheer me.  Or at least be a companion.  
Curses be on Misty for leaving me!

"It's been two months now," Nikki announced when she entered the 
room.  She had moved me down the hall in the clinic, from the 
Infusion Center to the examination room, to check for side 
effects.  "It's still too early to tell if the treatments are 
making any change in your spine, but it is important that we keep 
a regular check on any side effects that may have developed."

"I wondered why the nurse insisted I put on this gown."

"I'm sorry about that, but the gown makes my inspection a whole 
lot easier."  She smiled that contagious smile, and for some 
reason I felt myself relaxing.  Her manner was very nice, even 
though this whole cancer business was really getting to me.  
Nikki smiled, "We'll start with your back."

I hate gowns.  This one, like most hospital gowns, was open down 
the back.  To make matters worse, this was one of the new 
disposable kind, made of crinkly paper.  Well, I thought, if 
Nikki wants to inspect my bare butt, then let her have at it.  
She did.  And she did.  

 "I don't see any sign of irritation," she informed me after she 
had loosened my brace and prodded my back, my neck, then ran her 
hand gently over my buns.  Apparently your body is accepting the 
modified genes."
  
"Now, if can you manage to keep that brace in place, I need you 
to sit here on the table."  Nikki smiled and waited.  

With no little embarrassment, I complied, tugging several times 
at the gown, trying to retain some semblance of personal decency.

"Here, I'll help you," she added, "so you can lie back."  I 
managed.  Nikki smiled, "Now, I need to check your chest first."  
She tugged at the paper gown, which crinkled a bit, wrinkled up, 
and then gave up, and fell off, leaving me stretched out bare 
naked.  Nikki seemed unimpressed.  She loosened the front of my 
brace, tapped on my chest, prodded my stomach, then moved on 
down.  Gently, she lifted my limp penis and held it over to one 
side as she inspected my scrotum.  Then, holding my penis between 
her fingers, she peeled back the foreskin and squeezed the head 
gently.  I waited for her next move, and when nothing happened, I 
looked up to find that she was watching my face.  

Half teasing, I asked, "Are you having fun?" 

"Not really," she replied.  "I think I just found our first side 
effect.  Tell me if I'm correct, but it appears you are 
impotent."  

I nodded.  "How could you tell?"

"Chemically-Induced Erectile Dysfunction," she smiled again.  
"Most men get at least a little hard when I squeeze them like 
this...."  She tugged at my tool, "But you, well....  It's not 
surprising, what with all you've gone through."  She paused a 
moment, gave my limp member another little squeeze, then added, 
"I'm sorry.  It must be terribly frustrating to your girl 
friend."

"Not any more," I confessed.  "She left."

"Because of this?" she asked, once more squeezing my penis.  It 
still did not react.

"That's what she said.  I didn't know it was that important to 
her."

"Well, apparently to some girls it is."  She stepped back.  
"Maybe you ought to get dressed now, but before that I need to 
ask if anything new is going on inside you?  Have you had any 
strange feelings anywhere in your body?"

I thought for a moment, then said, "Well, I have had a little 
cough.  And my tongue sometimes itches."

"Your tongue?  Let me see."

I opened my mouth so she could shine her little flashlight around 
inside my mouth.  "No swelling, but it is unusually pink," she 
noted.  "When does it itch?  Any particular time?"

"Just now and then," I replied.

"Well, let's give it a little more time.  If the itch persists..., 
well," she paused and smiled as I pulled on my underwear and 
zipped my pants.  "I think you should make an appointment at the 
desk so I can do a more thorough exam next week."  Then she was 
gone.

Frustrated that she thought the experimental treatments might be 
causing my itchy mouth, something I had not considered 
previously, I decided it was time to do some reading in the 
library.  With the help of the research assistant, I found out 
more than I really wanted to know about the kind of experiment 
being conducted on me.  Why, I asked myself, did I agree to this 
test without doing any research first?  Well, I decided, because 
I want to live!  That's why.  Here's what I learned at the 
library:
Commercial uses for transgenic products are being studied. 
For example, Agracetus Co. has found a way to insert a gene 
into a cotton plant so that the plant expresses a polyester 
polymer inside the cotton fiber, thus automatically 
producing a cotton-polyester blend. Because this eliminates 
the manufacture of plastics it reduces environmental 
pollution. 
Another emphasis is on the production of oils. Most palm 
and coconut oils are grown in foreign countries. People 
want to decrease our dependence on other countries for 
these products. Enzymes can be inserted into sunflowers so 
that they can convert their own sunflower oil into palm or 
coconut oils. 
Chris Summerville has expressed a gene in potatoes that 
makes a plastic polymer which is biodegradable. This fiber 
can be used to manufacture items like grocery bags that 
will be totally recycled after use because of their 
biodegradability.
Animal experimentation is going on all over the world.  The 
genes from chicken, cows, rats and humans have been 
engineered into commercial fish species in order to 
increase the growth rates. Salmon, for instance, have been 
engineered to reach six times their natural size. Yet once 
such fish escape from the farms in which they are produced, 
nothing can stop them from breeding with natural stock and 
passing their deformities into the gene pool.

Another experiment carried out in New Zealand is by the New 
Zealand government.  The research project is planning to 
put human genes into cows so that their milk is more like 
human breast milk.

Nothing I read mentioned anything about bone growth, or even any 
experiments of that kind, but the very idea of transferring genes 
from one animal to another, or especially mixing animal genes 
with people, made me shudder.  It also made me a lot more aware 
of the strange itch in my mouth.  Maybe it was my imagination, 
but it seemed that even my throat had begun to itch, along with 
my tongue.

A week later, when I went for my appointment with Nikki, my 
throat was a mess.  It had become scratchy, and it itched all the 
time.

"Have you been able to sleep at night?" she asked.

"With the help of a few aspirin," I explained.  "I drink lots of 
water.  And juice.  Anything to soothe that unreachable itch down 
in my throat."

"Well, let's have a look," Nikki smiled.  "Open wide."  I thought 
she was going to thrust her little flashlight all the way down my 
throat as she eyeballed the inside of my mouth.  "Considerable 
redness," she observed, "but it doesn't seem to be inflammation.  
Something is definitely going on there, but quite frankly... I have 
no idea what."

"A reaction to the DNA treatments?" I asked.

"Probably.  I've never heard of any reaction like this to the 
chemo or radiation.  You should be well past any problems those 
treatments might have provoked."

"So it could be the DNA?"

"We don't know.  Remember, this is something new.  Who knows what 
will develop?" 

"So what do I do now?" I asked.  "Do we stop the infusions?"

"No, it's much too early for that.  The itch may only be 
temporary.  Hopefully, it will settle down after awhile.  Let's 
give it a bit longer before we do anything as drastic as 
stopping.  We both know the possible results of that decision."

"But it really itches," I protested.  "Especially at night."

"If the itch is bothering you so you can't sleep, I can give you 
something to counteract it.  Have you tried Benadryl?" she asked.  
I shook my head.  "That would be my first suggestion," she 
continued.  "Try it for a week, and if that doesn't work, then 
when I see you next week we'll talk about our next step."

Throughout that week, I continued to itch.  In spite of the 
Benadryl it grew worse, involving my tongue and deep down into my 
throat.  Several times the itching woke me during the night, and 
I lay there remembering how Nikki had squeezed my cock.  There 
was a time, if she had done that to me, I would have developed 
such a raging hard-on that..., well, who knows what I might have 
done to her ...or any girl who so blatantly squeezed my dick.  
Instead, I could only feel sad that those days were gone.  I was 
a victim of cancer.  With a bad spine.  No, I was the victim of 
treatments for a bad spine.  I had survived the surgery, but 
could I really overcome these treatments?  And what about this 
infernal itching?

It was two weeks before I saw Nikki again.  In the meantime, my 
blood draw and infusions were handled by the nurses in the 
Infusion Center.  My itching was kept somewhat under control by 
the Benadryl, but I was unhappy at taking pills to deal with side 
effects.  When I saw Nikki, I told her so, but she only laughed 
...her special little laugh which made everything else she said 
seem so logical and right.

"Okay, so how's the itch?" she asked, and after I explained as 
best I could she said, "Stick out your tongue."  I did.  "Oh, 
my!" she declared, stepping back.  "Have you looked at yourself 
lately?  Why didn't you say something?"

"About what?" I asked, totally confused.

"Your tongue!" she exclaimed.  "It's growing!"  She pulled a 
mirror from the cabinet and held it up for me to see.  Indeed, my 
tongue was long.  Normally, as best I remembered, I could stick 
it out maybe an inch at the most past my lips, but now it was 
along enough I could extend it a full three inches!"  

"What's happening?" I asked.

"Well, I guess we found the source of your itchy mouth," she 
smiled.

"Is this a problem?" I asked, this time more concerned.

"Maybe, maybe not.  We'll just have to see what develops."  Then 
came that smile again.  "I'll give you script for a more powerful 
antihistamine to control the itch.  Then I'll check it against 
next week."

My frustration level continued to rise as I left the office.  I 
needed answers.  Instead, I was told to put up with whatever was 
going on for yet another week.  Even so, now that I knew what to 
look for, I had trouble staying away from the mirror.  
Repeatedly, day after day, I looked and measured and watched as 
my tongue continued to grow.  Strangely enough, it did not seem 
too large for my mouth, perhaps because it was extending so far 
down into my throat.  I wondered if it would cause me to gag, but 
that never occurred.  By the time I had my next transfusion, my 
tongue had grown at least another three inches.

After the infusion, Nikki met me in the examination room.  "How 
are we doing?" she asked.

"We?" I asked.  "I don't know about you, but I'm getting really 
weird."

"All right," she smiled, "let's see that tongue."  I extended it 
slowly.  Before it had reached maximum length, she had her hand 
over her mouth.  Her professional attitude had disappeared, and 
she was in total shock.  "Never, in all my training ...in my 
wildest dreams!  Oh, I'm so sorry."  

I was sitting on the examination table, and she was standing 
right beside me.  I guess it was simply her feminine intuition, 
or maybe some maternal instinct ...whatever, she pulled me against 
her and gave me into a warm embrace.  Maybe my penis lacked the 
means to react to such contact, but there was no lack of response 
in the rest of my body.  Apparently Nikki sensed my reaction and 
pulled my face up to hers.  Our lips met for a brief moment.  
Then she pulled away and whispered, "I want to check out that 
tongue of yours, if you don't mind."  Then she was back.  Her 
lips were open wide, her tongue searching for mine, and a moment 
later she was sucking my tongue deep into her mouth.   Shocked 
and too surprised to object ...besides, this was unexpectedly nice, 
so I simply let her do as she wanted.  Her "examination of my 
tongue" was such an erotic experience that I actually became 
quite frightened by it all. 

"Wow!" was Nikki's response when we finally broke the kiss.  
"That was not very professional of me, and what I'm going to say 
is even less so," she continued.  "Would it be all right if we 
had dinner together sometime this next week?  My treat."

"I guess so," I agreed.  

"You did say your girl friend left you, didn't you?"

"Correct, but...."

"Never mind.  I'll call you early next week to set a time."  Then 
she was gone, still acting quite flustered.  I left the clinic 
shaking my head at the strange turn of events.  My throat was 
itching terribly by the time I arrived home.  I took a dose of my 
anti-itch prescription and tumbled on to the bed.  The medicine 
must have really been powerful, because I slept until the 
following afternoon ...it was the first all-night's sleep I had in 
weeks.  The phone woke me.

"You sound like you were asleep," the voice said.  

"Well," I mumbled, not ready to admit I was still in bed in the 
middle of the day.

"This is Nikki, and I was wondering if it would be all right for 
me to drop by your house this evening.  I'm concerned about 
what's going on with your tongue."

"Yeah, come on over.  Do you know where I live?"

"It's in your chart.  I'll see you about six."  And with that she 
was gone.

That's strange, I thought.  Since when did she start making house 
calls?  Even so, she did seem genuinely concerned, and there was 
no way I was going to tell her not to come to my house, even 
though I had allowed it to become considerably more messy than it 
ought to be to entertain visitors, especially my professional 
medical staff.  I set to work cleaning and straightening up the 
rooms.  It was about 3:00 when she called, so I used the next 
three hours to good advantage.  By the time the doorbell rang, I 
had the place looking reasonably acceptable, at least as much as 
any bachelor's home might.

Nikki was still in her white clinic coat when I she came in, 
looking very professional even though the coat was open to reveal 
her blue silk blouse and dark slacks.  She carried a small bag, 
the kind you used to see doctors carrying, and I presumed it 
contained her examination equipment, whatever that might be.

"How are you?" she asked 

"Right now," I admitted, "I'm tired."

"Cleaning up the place?" she smiled.  "So it would look better 
when I came?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Oh, I probably know men better than you might imagine."  Her 
laugh sounded somewhat nervous, but again I found it reassuring.  
"Listen," she said softly, apparently getting down to the 
business at hand, I've been on the run all day, and I'm a mess 
from all the procedures I've administered.  Would you mind if I 
cleaned up a bit before we proceed with your tongue?"  

Her request was surprising, but certainly not out of line.  After 
all, I would expect her to wash her hands before poking around in 
my mouth.  "Upstairs and to your left," I directed her, pointing 
up toward the bathroom.  

"Oh, here's something I thought you might find interesting."  She 
pulled a small brochure from her lab coat pocket.  "It's an 
article by Stephen Reynolds."

"Sure, thanks," I told her, assuming I ought to read it while she 
cleaned up.  She took her bag and climbed the steps while I sat 
on the couch and began to read.  The brochure was written by a 
man with throat cancer.  Terrific, I thought.  That's the kind of 
reassurance I need right now with all this itching in my throat.  
One paragraph stood out, and I read through it a second time. 

There's more to the tongue than most people realize.  It 
extends far below the part that we see, and it assists in 
speaking and swallowing and affect breathing.  You need a 
tongue to whistle.  Babies need to master their tongues 
before they can talk.  

Sounds from upstairs interrupted my reading at that point, and I 
realized the shower was running in the bathroom.  Interesting, I 
thought.  Nikki must really be cleaning up!  Somehow that struck 
me as humorous, but I continued reading.

The tongue has been called one of the strongest muscles we 
have.  It has tens of thousands of receptors in tiny 
openings that allow into our system the characteristics of 
whatever our mouth touches:  a perfectly seared steak, a 
velvety red wine, milk gone bad, a lover's body.  These 
conduits carry data to our brains, information that conveys 
"taste" in all its meanings.  It's who we are, what we 
like, what we are like - that experience a little too 
sweet, that one not savory enough, that one just right.

I pondered the thought for a few moments, then realized the 
shower had stopped.  Probably, I thought, it will take her awhile 
before she comes back down, so I read the paragraph again, 
focusing especially on the part about the tongue conveying taste 
to the brain.

"Did you read it already?" Nikki asked.

Hearing her voice, I jumped to my feet, then realized she was 
already more than halfway down the stairs.  She was wearing her 
white lab coat.  That was all.  Which was quite obvious, since 
her coat was unbuttoned and had fallen open, completely revealing 
her lovely, naked body.  

"Holy crap!" I responded, staring at her bare assets.  They were 
many.  And they were good.  Very good.  Her breasts were full and 
were bouncing joyously with each step she took descending the 
stairs, fighting back the lapels of her lab coat as if to keep it 
open so they could be seen.  Her trim waist molded gently into a 
round little belly.  As I looked further on down, I saw her pubic 
mound was clean-shaven.

"I hope you didn't mind if I used your shower," she smiled, and 
her smile clearing away much of the nervousness I felt.  "Work 
always leaves me feeling icky."  

Somehow I found that funny, since icky was about the most 
unprofessional medical term I had ever heard her use.  "You're 
welcome," I replied, not sure what was happening.  Or what might 
be about to occur.  Although I did wonder why I was amused more 
at her choice of words than the way she was dressed.

"Now," she continued, "are you ready to check out that tongue?"

"I-I-I guess," I stammered.  "If you are...."

"Oh, I'm ready," she laughed.  "I'm more than ready."  And with 
that she dropped her bag beside the couch, then reached up and 
kissed me full on the mouth.  The kiss was simple, 
straightforward.  This time she kept her lips pursed together.  
When she pulled away, she said, "Don't look so surprised.  You 
knew what I wanted several weeks ago when I was squeezing your 
cock."

"But...," I protested, "you know I'm impotent."

"I know.  Chemical Erectile Disfunction.  But that's not what I 
came here to check out."

"It's not?" I asked, puzzled.

"Of course not.  I came to check out your tongue."  

I glanced downward at her naked body, revealed completely through 
the opening of her white coat. 

She laughed, "Oh, that?  Well, that's how I'm going to see what's 
going on."  Still smiling while she kept her eyes focused on 
mine, she shrugged her shoulders, allowing the coat to slip away 
and fall to the floor.  Then, totally naked, she sat on the 
couch, pulled me down beside her, and kissed me again.  This time 
she had her mouth wide-open.  Her tongue tangled mine, then 
withdrew, teasing my tongue to follow hers deep into her mouth.  
After a moment, she pulled away.  "Oh, my God!" she gasped.  
"That's what I thought.  That's exactly what I thought.  Here," 
she instructed, turning to lie back on the couch as she spread 
her legs.  Pulling my head toward her, she said, "Down here."  
She pointed to her shaved pubis, "Use your tongue ...down there."

Surprised.  Shocked.  Confused.  I hesitated.

"Well?  Come on.  What are you waiting for ...an engraved 
invitation?  I even shaved and showered a few minutes ago, just 
to make this as pleasant as possible for you.  So...."

Now, I had done oral sex with Misty several times.  That had been 
an okay-experience, but not one of my favorite activities.  Even 
so, the sight of Nikki's smooth, bare folds stretched out 
invitingly before me was a sight I was not about to refuse.  I 
started to bend down to her, but my brace held my back too rigid.

"Oh," she gasped, "I forgot about your brace.  Selfish me!"  She 
leapt to her feet and scurried across the room to my kitchen 
table, where she hopped up on it and lay backward.  "Sit here," 
she instructed, pointing to the nearby chair.

As I pulled the chair up to the table and sat down, she pulled 
her feet up on to the edge of the table and spread her knees wide 
apart.  What a feast! I thought as I leaned forward and ran my 
tongue cautiously across her freshly shaved mound.  Then, 
reaching my tongue farther down, I began licking her, starting at 
the bottom of her crack.  She reached in with her fingers and 
held herself open ...and obvious invitation ...slowly I inserted my 
tongue.  

That was when I realized my tongue was what Nikki had come for.  
That was what she wanted me to provide.  When I had been oral 
with Misty, my tongue had only been able to play around between 
her outer folds, but now my tongue had grown long enough that I 
could actually insert it on in between Nikki's inner folds.  Then 
it reached on in much farther, on in until it was deep inside 
her.  As my tongue probed around within her pussy, she writhed 
and twisted, squeezing my tongue, coaxing it even deeper into her 
inner cavity.  As it thrust further in, I realized my tongue was 
actually touching the inner mound of her cervix.  Intrigued, I 
encircled it with my tongue, licking and probing.  

Totally surprised that my tongue could reach that far inside her, 
I was especially pleased that the tactile ridges at the base of 
my tongue could feel her clitoris pulsing, and I soon learned how 
to swirl my tongue and massage her clit while the tip probed 
circles around her cervix.  Nikki screamed and thrashed, riding 
my tongue until she burst into a massive orgasm.  As she did, I 
slowed my palpitations but kept my tongue inside her until she 
finally collapsed backward on the table, gasping for air.  

"Ne-ver!  E-ver!"  She gulped out her words one syllable at a 
time.  "Never has sex felt so good."  She sat up quickly and 
grasped my head to her breasts.  "My God, but you have a gift!  A 
truly wonderful gift!  If word of this gets out, you'll have 
every woman in town begging at your feet for what you just did to 
me.  Oh, WOW!"

All I knew to do was smile at her.  She rested her head on my 
shoulder, then clutched me close to her bare breasts as she 
continued to breathe heavily.  After a few moments, I had to ask 
the question.  "You came here today expecting me to do this to 
you, but why?  How did you know?"

She waited several moments before answering, obviously still 
trying to calm herself.  Then she spoke softly, "This past week, 
quite by accident, I learned what kind of animal DNA the lab is 
using for your infusion."

"Really?"

"Yes," she continued, then paused, sat up and looked at me 
cautiously, "Are you sure you want to know?  I mean, really 
sure?"

"Very definitely."

"It's a giraffe," she smiled.

"A what?" I exploded.  "A giraffe?  I expected an ape or a mouse, 
or more probably a rat, but a giraffe?  Why in the world would 
they use a giraffe?"

"Well," she said, "Giraffes are quite similar humans.  They have 
the same number of vertebrae in their necks as we do - seven - 
even though their vertebrae are much larger than ours.  So it 
seemed only natural that the DNA of a giraffe might help your 
vertebra heal." 

"But," I asked, "what about my tongue?"

"Well," she laughed, "a full-grown giraffe usually has a tongue 
that measures about 18 inched long."

"Is that what's going to happen to me?" I asked, dumfounded.  "My 
mouth is not big enough for a tongue like that!"

"Don't worry.  I'm sure it's not going to get that big.  You see, 
a giraffe's tongue is dark - somewhere between blue and black.  
Scientists think that dark color protects their tongues from 
getting sunburned while reaching for leaves on trees. They also 
have thick, sticky saliva that protects their tongues from thorns 
while eating acacia leaves." 

"Gross," was all I could think to say.

"Oh, no," Nikki replied.  "They are very nice animals."

"And that's what I am becoming?" I asked.

"Well, so far ...at least as far we have observed in your 
treatments ...your tongue is the only side-effect we have seen.  
And your tongue is still pink, very normal, I'd say.  Of course, 
it's still too early to know if the infusions are having any 
effect on your spine.  The developments with your tongue are 
actually a good sign, in that your body is adapting to your 
revised DNA, rather than rejecting it or becoming enflamed by 
it."  She paused, then snuggled closer to me, "And ...quite frankly 
...I am ecstatic, overjoyed, and immensely pleased at what it's 
produced in you so far."

"I think I am too," I volunteered.  "Actually, I never enjoyed 
actual intercourse as much as I enjoyed what just happened 
between us."  She snuggled closer, pressing her naked body 
against me.  So I continued, "Compared with what I just felt, 
intercourse with... with...," 

When I paused, she said, "Your cock." 

"Right," I groped for a comparison.  "Using my cock was so 
awkward that I really couldn't feel what it was doing.  It was 
like trying to shave with a hedge trimmer."

"I know what you mean.  I don't think I can ever go back to 
having some guy ram his pecker in me, not after the feeling the 
experience I just had with you.  Why, your tongue was pure magic.  
Compared with your tongue, normal intercourse was like trying eat 
ice cream with a scoop shovel."

"Like trying to tie your shoes with your mittens on?" I 
suggested.

"Well, let's not get carried away," she laughed.  Then pausing a 
moment, she asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Come to think of it, yes, I am."

"Would you like to order something to be delivered?  Unless you 
have something else you should be doing, I can stay, we can eat, 
and then maybe I could run another check on your tongue?  How 
would that be?"

"Terrific!" I agreed.  "Chinese?  There's a little place around 
the corner that delivers."

So it was that we spent the entire evening together.  She never 
bothered getting dressed, and it was not until after we had eaten 
that she suggested I get out of my clothes.

"Aren't you uncomfortable," she asked, "dressed in all those warm 
clothes, while I'm here with everything just ...hanging out?"

"I wouldn't exactly say anything is hanging," I countered.  "It 
looks to me like every part of you is attached quite firmly in 
place."

"Thank you," she said softly, wiping the last of the egg roll 
from her chin, then disposing of her napkin in the empty carton.  
"I'm more interested in taking another look at what you might 
have hanging."

"You have a cure for that problem?"

"Probably not," she smiled, "but at least I can try.  I hate for 
this evening to be completely one-sided, so far as enjoyment is 
concerned."

"Oh, it definitely is not that," I assured her.  "Rest at ease ...I 
am thoroughly enjoying myself."

"I'm glad.  However...," she stood and began unbuttoning my shirt.  
After I was naked - except for my brace, of course - she knelt in 
front of me and lifted my sagging penis, massaging it gently 
between her fingers.  It was small and wrinkled, and regardless 
of how creative she was in kneading and massaging, it remained a 
small, wrinkled, limp rag.  

"Well, let's try something else," she smiled, looking up at me.  
"Some things can't be changed, but they can still be enjoyed."  
She took my limp wimpy into her mouth and rolled it around her 
tongue.  Then, pulling back for a moment, she asked, "Does that 
feel good?"

"Oh, yes," I assured her.  "Not like I wish it did, but it's a 
very nice feeling."  And it was.  Nikki was extremely creative 
with her mouth, and before long I felt a tightening in my loins 
which I had almost forgotten.  My erection never came, but my 
hips buckled and a small amount of semen ejaculated.  She pulled 
back, held out her tongue to show me the small spoonful she had 
collected.  Then she smiled and swallowed.  "Thank you," was all 
I knew to say.

"Now," she said, "it's my turn.  Where do you want to do it?"

"Upstairs on the bed, providing, of course, that you're willing 
to spend the night."

"Oh, I'm definitely going to spend the night," she laughed, "and 
I'm going to spend as much of the night as I can with your 
terrific tongue working its magic deep inside me."

Upstairs, I detoured for a stop in the bathroom, relieving and 
cleaning myself.  When I reached the bedroom, Nikki was lying 
spread-eagle high up in the bed. 

"I tried to leave room for you, so you'd be comfortable," she 
grinned.

This time, I took my time.  I worked my way slowly into her love 
cave, exploring and testing every nook and cranny, every crease, 
each bump and soft spot, and when I sensed her muscles tense I 
knew I had touched something sensitive, so I paused before moving 
on, playing and perfecting her enjoyment in that area.  She 
climaxed before I had worked my way in more than half-way, and by 
the time I had proceeded all the way to her cervix she was 
already well into her third orgasm.  Or maybe she was just having 
one big long orgasmic ride with several hills and valleys.  
Either way, Nikki was riding the clouds with her hips thrashing 
up and down, her arms flailing to both sides, and her voice no 
longer forming intelligible words - just moans and ecstatic 
groans.

For me, the experience was erotic, sensual, thrilling and 
educational.  It certainly built my pride of achievement.  
Probably, I learned more about a woman's inner anatomy that night 
than any other man has ever before discovered.  There's no part 
of a person which is more sensitive than the tongue, and there's 
no man ever before with a tongue long enough to probe the inner 
depths of a woman's vagina like I did that night.  Yes, I had to 
agree with Nikki, I have a gift - a truly awesome, wonderful gift 
- and I enjoyed it completely.

Finally ...I don't know how long ...she pushed me away.  "I have to 
rest," she gasped.  "Please, don't leave - I may want more later 
- I need to breathe - I need - oh, I love it - oh, yes, I love 
your tongue - I love you - oh, it feels so wonderful."  Then she 
collapsed.

I wasn't sure, but maybe she passed out.  I've heard sometimes a 
woman can actually drift into unconsciousness in the midst of a 
major orgasm.  Or maybe she just fell asleep.  Whatever, she did 
not rouse until well after midnight.  Then she reached for me 
without saying a word, pulled me close to her, kissed me lightly 
on the lips, then slowly relaxed her grip as she dropped off to 
sleep.  

The sun was up when I awoke.  She was sitting on the edge of the 
bed, still naked and smiling down at me as she spoke, "Good 
morning, sleepy head." 

"Morning," I moaned.  "Sleep good?"

"The best."  She leaned down and kissed me, then said, "I need to 
shower and get to work."

"Be my guest.  Or do you want me to join you?"

"I'd love to have you, but I don't dare risk asking you to remove 
that brace."  She paused a moment, then added, "I'm still so 
sensitive... I'm all tingly inside.  You stimulated places inside 
me that no one has ever even touched before.  With all my medical 
training, I thought I knew myself pretty well, but my fingers 
won't even reach some of the places you massaged inside me last 
night."  She smiled again, "You have a wonderful tongue."  

Suddenly she stood, "Oh, I dare not even get started again.  I 
have too many appointments at work today."  With that, she rose 
and almost ran to the bathroom, and a moment later I hard the 
shower start."

Interesting, I thought as I listened to the shower.  This is how 
it began last night, with her in the shower.  Who would ever have 
dreamed all I've experienced in the past few hours?

~~~
Continued in Chapter 19


  
Chapter 18 - Taste of Love