Visiting The Fleming Clinic (FF, sex therapy, medical, menstrual sex)
by
PlanetDweller
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Standard Disclaimer & Legal Stuff: The following is adult fiction intended for private reading by adults over eighteen (18) years of age ONLY or a higher age if required by the political jurisdiction where you reside...if you are under eighteen years of age, you are required to exit now from your browser if accessing through a communications network or delete this file if accessing it through a local disk system...the following depicts sexual acts which if they were perpetrated in real life would be against the law in all countries and localities; if merely possessing descriptions of sexual acts which would be against the law if committed in "real life" is against the law in the political jurisdiction where you live, you are required to exit access from this and/or delete this immediately...the following is a work entirely fictitious and the characters, names, places, dates, acts depicted etc. bear no resemblance to any persons living or dead or events and acts which may or may not have taken place at some point in time....the author who is using the pseudonym above retains all rights of publication to this story...individual readers of legal age my freely possess this and distribute it to other readers of legal age on a strict non-commercial basis...storage of this on any commercial website or by any other means of storage and retrieval for commercial purposes is strictly prohibited without written consent of the originating author.
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I really don't know what drove me to it, except possibly, perhaps, quiet
desperation and a quieter sense of curiosity.
At 29 and an MBA from the Wharton School Of Finance and a great career as
Director Of Marketing for a major Wall Street brokerage firm in NYC, making
six figures + in income and paying more than I wanted to in taxes, having a
great social life among the glitteratti' of The City, and being the envy of
many women and with my 5'10", 135 pound 38C-26-36 body, to be most people
I had the world by the tail, but truth is, the world had me by its tail. Two
long-term relationships slash engagements down the tubes already without a
prospect of a hope for a decent one in the future, the endless stream of
married trying to cheat and single turning out to be emotionally
cripppled from their most previous relationship, that or they were closeted
gays, and I was just sick of men. SICK of them, I tell you!
I wanted to expand my horizons, I wanted to explore and see what was out
there some more, but I did NOT want to do anything which might could stir up
gossip and innuendo, which might my career possibilities if enough
rumors were put into play. And the Nineties being the 90's, I also wanted to
minimize if not elimate any chance of catching one or more of the "social
diseases". That's why I decided to give The Fleming Clinic in upstate New
York, up near Syracuse, a call. I told them what I wanted and what and why
and how I was looking for what, and they said they could probably help me. A
few days later a bunch of consent forms came in the mail which I had to sign,
one for my gynecologist, one for the analyst I went to a few times in the
past, one for my GP, etc. Then another trip to my GYN for some venereal
tests, another quick session with my ex-analyst, and a week later I got a
call from a secretary at the Fleming Clinic while at work. "We would like for
you to come for a weekend evaluation and educational session...what's your
schedule look like?" "I can't make it this or next weekend...what about the
weekend of Saturday the third of next month, how's that look for you?" "We
could do that, that's fine...we'll mail you a packet of further information
and a couple of tests you can take at home and mail back to us ASAP after you
complete them." "What about my insurance?" "We've already contacted them, and
they'll pay 80% of the first $5,000 and 50% after that to $25,000 per annum,
so you're covered." "Good." "We'll see you then."
The clinic was located on the top, third floor of a non-descript office
building near a suburb of Syracuse, not far from the University. Signs warned
college students that their cars would be towed if the left them in the
parking lot. Being a Friday afternoon late, there were still several cars in
the parking lot, I figured they must be clinic employees. A security gaurd
unlocked the double doors from the inside to let me in. He asked my business,
I told him I was here for therapy at The Fleming Clinic, and he lead me over
to an elevator and gave me a key for a special lock on the elevator control
panel inside the passenger compartment, inserting it and turning it to the
right making it zip up, turning it left making it come down. My weekend bag
felt lighter on my shoulder as the elevator rose to the third floor.
A nurse in green surgical scrubs and a white doctor's lab coat greeted me as
the door slid open, asking if I was Jill Bostrom, I mumbling "yes", she
motioning and telling me to follow her. I plopped down on the couch in the
waiting room, as Nurse Cathy gave me even more paperwork to fill out.
Stretching over to her counter, the phone rang, but she wasn't there to pick
it up. The air conditioning must have been set at 50 degrees or cooler, goose
flesh popped up on my arms. I shivered. Nurse Cathy came out from down a long
hall with a clipboard in one hand, and a specimen jar in the other,
pointing me to the little girl's room. "You know the drill" she barked as she
closed the door behind me, "when you're finished, come to the office at the
end of the hall" she continued as I quickly flipped on the light switch so I
wouldn't be groping around for it in the dark of this strange bathroom.
Canned blues-Muzak trailed behind me from overhead speakers as I made my way
down the hall to the office, warm bottle in hand. Nurse Cathy took the
bottle from my hand with "is this all, Miriam?", a pleasant-looking lady with
red hair atop a 5'3" frame stuffed inside a tight black dress nodded yes back
to her. Miriam rose and motioned me to sit down in a leather executive chair
in front of her desk. My weekend bag slipped off my shoulder and next to my
chair. "Excited about this weekend?" Miriam asked. "Oh, yes, very..." I
replied. "I commend you on the rational' behind your actions in wanting to
come here, Jill...perfectly logical." "Well, Miriam...may I call you Miriam?"
"Yes, please." "Well, Miriam, as you know, absolute discretion is a must in
my case, I can't afford to have any rumors started that my bosses might hear
about...and, I don't know, I simply never have been around the or scene...I was afraid of doing something stupid, I was afraid of running into
the wrong kind of person, I just wanted..." "You just were looking for a
safe, discreet way to explore your potential feelings about other women..."
"Exactly." "...without jeopardizing either your career or your emotional
health." "Precisely." "Well, then, Jill, we're going to spend this weekend
together...shall we get started?...you can leave your bag here."
Gooseflesh covered my body as Miriam lead me down the hall to an examing
room, stopping for a second to adjust a thermostat in the hallway up a notch,
she noticing my shivering from the cool and anticipation. I kept looking at
her, and she me. We smiled at each other. I had no clue as to what to expect,
that was part of the therapeutic process, so I wouldn't create a wall of
irrational fears around me. She told me to get undressed, pointing to a
coatrack with hangers to hang my clothes on, and hop up on the table. She
warmed the vinyl-covered standard gyn examinging table with a couple of
towels fetched still warm from an autoclave on the counter nearby. I finished
hanging my clothes up and jumped up on the table, my still on me,
holding my maxipad in place. I had called them the day before and asked if my
having my period would be a problem, since GYN's of course won't examine you
while on your period, and they said "no, it won't be a problem". Miriam made
small talk, asking me about my job, my growing up, the small town in
Ohio I was originally from, and on, as her hand gently massaged and
clinically touched my face, my stomach, my legs, then my breasts. I rolled
over on my stomach at her asking, as she palpatted most of my back, the
backside of my legs, and my butt, getting me to flip back over on my back, my
feet going in the stirrups.
"Let's see what we have here now..." Miriam chirped as she slipped my and pad down and off me, one of the still-warm towels going under my butt
"...oh, look, A PUSSY!" she cackled, as I laughed at and with her. The ice
had been broken, finally. I wasn't sure if she was going to do something
then, or not. I felt a plastic speculum open me up, then some cold liquid
being painted inside me and on my labia. "Just double-checking for genital
warts and such" she informed me. Removing the speculum, she massaged my clit
and lips some, making me squirm with anticipation. Then I felt a cold blast
as she sprayed something on my cunt. "Dipilatory, Jill, it won't take but a
minute."
She kissed me lightly on the cheek as she left me on my back on the table,
not coming back for another ten minutes or so. "Pee checks out, we're ready
to go!" she gleefully proclaimed as she kissed me lightly on the lips as she
strode by the table on her way down to my butt, toweling off the now-loose
pubic hair with another towel. Sounds were made as she moved stuff on an
instrument table near her, and I felt my open up as she spread me and
inserted a tampon. Giving me a playful tap on my rump, she looked up at me
with a "now, we can begin."
She lead me back the hallway, past the reception area, to an office at the
other end of another hallway, except it wasn't an office. Opening the door,
it was more like a nicely furnished studio student apartment. A queen-sized
four-poster canopy bed dominated the back part right. The bathroom which had
an old-style claw-foot bathtub with shower curtain around it besides the
usual commode and lavatory was just five steps away from the bed. A
kitchenette area, complete with combination refigerator and upright freezer,
filled out the left back area. The remaining area held a large couch, a small
couch bigger than a loveseat, a couple of high-quality vinyl upholstered
chairs, a cloth-covered Lay-Z-Boy, a couple of ottomons, and an entertainment
center with large-screen and stereo.
Miriam adjusted the thermostat for the room up, my gooseflesh slowly going
down, as I stood there waiting. Waiting. Waiting for her to lead me down this
path, to see if I liked the destination at the end, or not. As she got
herself a Pepsi, she asked if I wanted anything to drink. I asked if she had
anything alcoholic, if I could have a Stoly Screwdriver. We sat down together
on the couch, she sipping her Pepsi and I my Stolly Screw. She flipped the
teevee and VCR on, and together we began watching a movie. A high-quality
lesbian flick flickered in front of us. I had seen porn before.
Pretty boring. Miriam reached for and held my hand. Suddenly I felt warm.
She put my hands to her face. I kissed her. We stood back up. "Kissing is
more important to than straight women" she cooed as we kissed "Jill,
undress me." I unzipped her tight black cocktail dress, it hitting the floor
as she stepped out of it. She put my hands to the front of her bra, I
unclasping the front hook as it slipped from her shoulders. She traced my
hands down to her panties. My thumbs hooked them as she stepped out of them.
Touching my shoulders, she nudged me back down to the couch. "We need to kiss
more, to ascertain your comfort level so far" she urged. I was definitely
comfortable as we kissed, embracing each other, our arms enveloping one
another. I would look into her eyes, and she deep into mine.
We kissed for a good half an hour or more. Breaking for a moment, she
finished off her warm Pepsi, as I swigged the last half of my Stolly down.
"Follow me lead" she urged. Her hands touched my breasts, not quite
clinically maybe, but definitely not as a lover. It felt like a exam,
as she worked her fingertips over my nipples and aereola. I dittoed her
actions to me on her breasts. She kissed me again, our tongues met once
again. That was more like it. Her touches became gropes. She held my more fully now. I did the same to her. She moved her hands to my back and
rubbed my shoulders and lower back as we kissed. I followed her lead. "Have
you ever seen a close up and personal?" she asked, I shaking my head
"uh-uh". Getting some towels from the bathroom, she lay on the bed, putting a
towel underneath her bottom, raising and spreading her legs wide, motioning
me to join her. A tampon string hung from between her lips. I shouldn't have
been surprised, I guess. Telling me that she knew I knew all the anatomy and
physiology of female genitalia already, just to relax and have fun and play
with her all I wanted. As my hand stoked her labia, then pinched her
clit, then a finger working its way inside her to find her tampon in place, I
absentmindedly asked how long she had been doing this, being a professional
sex therapist, and how many other women had she helped. She answered "five
years" to the former and not a word to the latter.
Pulling her tampon out and rolling it in some tissue from the box on the
nightstand, I asked if I could frig her some. She said I could do anything to
her this weekend that I wanted to, as long as we could talk about afterwards.
First one then two then three fingers made their way inside her. Her
menstrual fluid covered my fingers and puddled at her pudenda. Her smell of
womanliness filled my nostrils. My thumb mashed her clit as my frig
continued. Her legs began to shake, and Miriam came on my hand, her cyprinne
fluid dilluting the discharge on my hand to a light pink. My mouth found
her cunt. I couldn't help myself. I was so, SO turned on by her, I just
started giving her head. I asked if that was okay and she silently but firmly
nodded "yes". My tongue slurpped and drank the nectar from her which was
her gift to me. Scooting up, I kissed her firm on the mouth, her tongue
finding mine. She licked her menstrual fluid from my face, like a cleaning its kitten.
We exchanged places and she mirrored my actions to her on me. When we kissed
again, I tasted my own essence, something I had never done, and would have
thought gross as everything before that moment. My fingers found my own cunt,
dipped some more inside me, and was shared between our lips as we kissed.
The rest of that night was spent in peaceful, happy bliss. We body-painted
each other with our menstrual juices, then washed each other off as we
showered together. Sleep was deep and deeper.
The next morning, after Miriam and I fixed breakfast together at the
kitchenette area just a blown-kiss from the bed, Miriam made a phone call.
She asked if I needed to call anyone, and I nodded my head "no". She was
talking about someone coming on over. I assumed it must be another therapist
she was talking to. About an hour later, two new therapists, one a about six feet tall, another one shorter and brunette-ish, walked naked into
our therapy bedroom. Miriam sat me down beside her on the couch and explained
that it is important for me to make love other women that weekend, so I
wouldn't become overly attached by accident to her. Miriam stood up as Joan
The and Missy The sat down beside me on the couch. We kissed a
three-way kiss as they groped my and and I tried to return the
favor.
Following their lead, Joan lay on the bed as Missy pushed me into her pussy,
I knelling on all fours. Missy then kissed my back and rubbed my shoulders as
she reached around for my clit. I exclaimed "Missy, my tampon!" as I felt the
end of a dildo at my vaginal entrance. Missy stopped, pulled it out, and
threw to the bathroom floor fifteen or more feet away, before resuming her
beginning slow strap-on-dildo fuck of my pussy. After Joan had came, Missy
rolled me over on my back and dove in, almost yelling "I just love a fresh
jellyroll!" We all broke up laughing as Missy lapped her fresh pussyroll
between my legs.
Soon after, Miriam joined us on the bed, and we four womyn with a "y" had the
time of our lives. They might have been professional sex therapists, but when
I would make one of them come, I could tell it was no act. They might have
been professionals, but they were very human. Sunday finally came the next
day, and so did I, many, many, many more times with my three lovely but
professional ladies. As the wheels of the commuter plane lifted off from the
bumpy runway of Syracuse's airport on its way to JFK, my twitched and
tingled, and made the decision of which fork in the road of my sexuality for
the rest of my life I was to take.
-30-
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