Pushing his rigid shaft down she said, “Straddle him.”
His cock was enfolded in a wet and warm clasp. The hand released. He felt Vivian’s body slide along his length until her breasts met his ribs. She held tight to his biceps and groaned.
“Squeeze your thighs, Viv. John, you just be as solid as you can. Put your hands here…” The doctor took his hands and placed them on the woman’s waist. She put a hand on his lower back again. “Viv’s going to learn to ride you. There won’t be penetration.”
Against her stabilizing hand John stood firm. Vivian began to move her body back along his cock, sliding in all the warm wetness there. He felt his crown dragged along her labia until it just nested in her delta. Then she slid down his length again until their pubes met. His knob felt the air of the room – he protruded from her other side. His glans must be rubbing her from clit to pucker.
“My God, that’s good,” Vivian gasped. And she practiced the electric slide a dozen more times, rising in enthusiasm as she moved.
“You’re right, Viv. That’s amazing,” he said, pulling against her hips to ease her along his shaft. “That rubs all the right places.”
“I had no idea…” the woman groaned.
She pulled at his arms and threw herself along his shaft, letting out a gasp with each collision with his body.
John felt fingers along the bottom of his shaft on the next thrust, pressing him up against the woman’s vulva.
“You can adjust the pressure, Viv,” said the doctor, “by reaching back and guiding him like this.”
John grunted when she pressed him up tighter, her fingers tickling his frenum with each thrust of his knob out behind the woman.
“You try it,” said Dr. Wright and her hand was replaced by a smaller, thinner one. Now his cock slid between the ring of Viv’s fingers as she pulled him up tight. She made a fist around his knob. To his surprise, this was as tight, hot and slick as any woman he’d entered. In fact, she could alter the pressure and the tightness of her fist, too. On top of that, all he had to do was stand there as solid as he could and let her ride him. Weirdly effortless, he thought, damned if you don’t learn something new every day.
“Oh. My. God,” gasped Vivian, “I can put it just where I need it.” She drove herself harder, her forehead on his chest, her hands grasping, her breath coming quick and ragged. Her own feet were solidly planted on the rug while she slid her pussy back and forth along his cock. It seemed like she forgot to be afraid. She dragged along the length of his ribbed cock, sliding her clit against his flesh with rising urgency.
The doctor said, “And you can guide him into your vagina if you want. Or not. You’re in control, Viv.”
“I can feel just how big you are in my hand, John,” the small woman panted, “How long, how thick.”
She grunted, she thrust, she clung. Suddenly she shouted, “F…F…FUCK!!” and her body flailed as the orgasm overtook her. Viv’s legs thrashed, her hips ground, her cries echoed in the room. She bit his bicep and whimpered, sagging in his arms.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as shudders of pleasure ran through her body. Viv’s thighs clenched rhythmically on his cock as she descended through her delight until she simply hung in his arms, legs parted on his rampant organ, spent and limp
John had a lot of practice delaying his climax. But he was close. Watching the effects of his and the doctors treatment had kept his mind a spectator to Vivian’s ecstasy, a kind of professional detachment. Interestingly, it drained the act of its spiritual impact, the kind of experience he was used to on this couch with Dr. Wright. Did being a pro mean he’d have less fulfilling sex?
But his cock throbbed between her thighs, his knob in the air behind her. Her every gasping breath moved her on him. The physical part of sex was pretty demanding all by itself. He had to catch his breath, too.
John gently lifted the limp woman off of his prong and set her in Dr. Wright’s arms. He heard the two collapse into the couch. His sweat dripped on the rug as he recovered from the effort. He supposed their work was done for today. It had been both easier and more enlightening than he’d expected. But it looked like he shouldn’t expect to get off himself. He sat on the couch, too, resigned to having done a good job, at least.
The women were unmoving on their end of the great purple couch. He felt their heat on his thigh as he willed himself to relax, imagining the smaller, frail woman curled in the doctor’s embrace. He could masturbate later to all that had just transpired.
After a bit someone stirred. Someone sighed. Someone groaned.
“That was…that was…God, I didn’t expect it…I’m so grateful,” Viv’s voice caught on tears again. “doctor…John, I can’t say how happy I am.”
“I’m here for your healing, your pleasure, Viv. It’s terrific to see you cross this threshold,” John said, sincerely, “Never forget that you’re a goddess on the Earth.”
There was a silence. Then she said, “Wait! You didn’t come, did you? I mean, it was so wet and I was so happy…I didn’t think…but look at that.”
“His cock’s still erect, isn’t it?” said the doctor.
“I feel selfish now…” the woman sounded contrite, “What should I do? I mean it doesn’t seem right, exactly, that you should go unsatisfied, John. Does it, doctor?”
“There’s no obligation or expectation that I should orgasm,” said John gently, marshaling every bit of his restraint.
“That’s right, Viv,” added the doctor, “John’s a pro and his job is to help you to your pleasure goals, not his.” Then it occurred to him that the doctor might make use of his pro tool once the woman was gone. He hoped she would. He wished he could make eye contact with the doctor and get a better read on that. But he just sat splay-legged on the couch, dripping, balls resting on the warm, purple velour, prong rearing up, reminding her with his posture of their Friday sessions.
“It doesn’t seem right,” Viv repeated, and he felt her move on the couch, her hands on his thighs. She’d gotten down on the rug between his knees. This was promising. John lay his arms along the back of the couch, receptive, waiting. He sensed her body by her heat along his legs.
“Viv, remember that your needs are our primary focus today,” cautioned Dr. Wright in full professional mode, still at the other end of the couch.
John imagined her watching her client kneeling in the worshipful pose she herself often took between his thighs on Fridays and wondered if the doctor might be jealous, possessive, despite her professional manner.
“I’m grateful for this,” said Vivian, and her hand wrapped his organ.
“You’re progressing more quickly than we’d hoped, aren’t you?” The doc sounded less enthusiastic than she could have.
“I used to like to do this, too,” Viv said, and John felt her velvet tongue drag across his knob. “Oh,” she said, “will you take these, doctor?”
“We should tell John what you’re doing. Ask for consent.” The doctor sounded slightly flustered, something he’d never observed. Was it because she wasn’t in control?