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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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The Fleming Clinic
by Planetdweller (planetdweller@hotmail.com)
***
I really don't know what drove me to it, except
possibly, perhaps, quiet desperation and a quieter
sense of curiosity. (FF, sex therapy, medical,
menstrual sex)
***
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 glitterati' of The
City, and being the envy of many women and men 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 men
trying to cheat and single men turning out to be
emotionally crippled 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 hurt my career possibilities if
enough rumors were put into play. And the Nineties
being the 90's, I also wanted to minimize if not
eliminate 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 guard 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 urine 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 piss 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 gay or
lesbian 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 examining 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 coat rack with hangers to hang
my clothes on, and hop up on the table.
She warmed the vinyl-covered standard GYN examining
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 panties
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
family 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 palpated 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 panties 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. "Depilatory, 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 vagina 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
refrigerator 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 ottomans, and an entertainment
center with large-screen TV 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 Stolly Screwdriver. We sat down together on the
couch, she sipping her Pepsi and my Stolly Screw. She
flipped the TV and VCR on, and together we began
watching a movie. A high-quality lesbian flick
flickered in front of us. I had seen lesbian 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 lesbians 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 breast exam, as she worked her fingertips
over my nipples and aureole. 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 breasts 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 vagina 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 pussy 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 diluting the red 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 slurped and
drank the nectar from her cunt 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 mother cat 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 blond
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 Blond and
Missy The Brunette sat down beside me on the couch. We
kissed a three-way kiss as they groped my breasts and
pussy 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 cum, 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
women 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 pussy 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.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 49