Mark Carver

The nurse_s hot itch

CHAPTER ONE

"There are only two answers to your problem," Dr. Benson said solemnly. "Either you keep up your desperate search, or you learn to live with it. I strongly suggest you learn to live with it because…"

"No!" The girl across from him flushed with anger. "No," she said more calmly. She took a deep shaking breath so that her lush tits rose high beneath her blouse. "I've lived with it for two years and it's been pure hell. I'm entitled to a healthy sex life just like anyone else, dammit." Her lustrous dark eyes blazed on him with anger and fierce determination. "I'll do anything – give anything to be cured. Understand?"

Benson nodded, outwardly calm. But inside a hot excitement rippled in his blood, causing his long cock to pound eagerly in his pants. Silently, he studied the girl.

Her long shimmering black hair framed a soft, glowing face with wide eyes and full, sensuous lips. She wasn't beautiful, but pretty in a very sexy way, especially her ripe mouth. Just studying the contours of that lush mouth could give a man a fierce hard-on. It had all the promise of a wild, fantastic blowjob, causing Benson to squirm hotly in his seat.

But if her face missed being beautiful, her body sure as hell didn't. She had proud, luscious tits and fully-rounded hips and long, silken legs that she nervously crossed and re-crossed as she sat across his desk.

Benson was only thirty-five, young for a psychologist with such a big practice. Because his practice was in a small town, he knew the intimate details of a great many people's lives, but he'd never run across a problem even faintly like this one. And even though he lavished advice with a heavy hand on his patients, a lot of it sexual, he wasn't without his own problems. The hot-eyed girl smoking nervously in front of him, her eyes smoldering with deep sex-frustration, reminded him only too sharply of his own problem.

Outwardly he had everything, a thriving practice, a beautiful wife and two healthy kids, a prominent standing in the community. Inwardly, he was hopping up and down frantically with the most anxious hard-on in town. The girl he'd been lustfully screwing on the side for the past year, a ripe, passionate secretary who never got enough of anything, much less frenzied fucking, had just gotten married to a tractor salesman and moved out of town. With luck, she'd be faithful to him for a whole week.

Benson was now high and dry, stuck with his own wife, who was as bored as he was with the same old sex-grind. Her cunt, once so hot and tight and exciting, had become loose and uninspired. Her mouth had become dry and lifeless on his long prick, and she'd begun to complain loudly whenever he wanted to ravage her fat-cheeked ass. In turn, his huge rod had become mechanical and impatient in her limp pussy. Thirteen years of marriage and a good deal of screwing around on the side could do that. She was currently fucking a stockbroker and a plumber, Benson knew. You'd think the bitch could at least get some hot tips on the market or have the dripping bathroom faucet fixed free, he thought bitterly.

"Can you help me?" the girl pleaded. Her fingers shook as she stubbed out her cigarette. "Can you?"

"I can try, Carol," he said in his best gentle tone. "You say you've already been to a dozen psychiatrists and a number of specialists, and they failed. But I'll try, yes."