The Phychologist: The Beginning

Many thanks to PubliusNaso, editor supreme whose light handed touch has knocked off the rough edges and produced a story which I hope you agree is polished.

The funeral was sad, not only because of Gary's death, but also because I was the only person attending who wasn't employed by the undertaker.

Gary didn't have many (in fact any) friends but me. We were both nerds at college. We were called the 'Boys in the Lab'. I guess many thought we were gay, but it was just that sniffing out a root took more time than we were prepared to spend. The lab at that time was our mistress.

Gary was strange: his drive was enough for both of us. I sort of tagged along for the ride. Initially, I thought that his high IQ, measured by MENSA at an amazing 167, was the cause of his strangeness. But I later discovered that his whole family had been killed in a road accident which he blamed himself for: his parents and sister had decided to visit him on the night they were killed because he had refused to return home for his sister's birthday. This incident left Gary with a guilt-conscience you could drive a truck down, which manifested itself in his inability to tolerate fools. Of course relative to Gary's IQ he believed everyone was a fool (except, I like to think, maybe me with my IQ of 141).

His parents' death left him very wealthy. On leaving college Gary bought a factory on Main Street which he converted into a laboratory. He said he was working on a product which would make people seem less foolish.

Two weeks ago, he was found dead in his factory, surrounded by the under-garments of four different women. The police were unable to believe that his death was the result of an orgy involving four women, and I couldn't believe he was a fetishist.

I was pleasantly surprised at the reading of the will to learn that he had left his factory and contents solely to me. I had always envied the location thinking it would make a great place for my psychology practice with enough room for an apartment if I built a mezzanine. The rest of his family wealth he left to his mother's favourite charities.

Gary had hand written his will just before he died. It was perfect, like everything he did. It contained a strange reference to the contents of the factory: "PT80" As I was the only real person (charities don't count) to inherit it was clear that this was a message for me. I collected the deeds and the keys for the property to see if the factory gave me any clues to translating Gary's code.

Gary and I had done a chemistry major together. I completed the degree to ensure my scholarship conditions were met, then transferred to psychology: a much more entertaining field.

Gary often spoke chemistry shorthand to me. When I remembered this, the clue was solved: "PT" referred to the periodic table, and 80 is the position of the element mercury. Mercury was also the Roman messenger of the gods, so Gary was trying to tell me that the contents of the factory would give me a message.

He knew how tidy I was, his message was to stop me tidying up the lab and possibly lose some of the message he had meant me to find. Because Gary had gone to great pains to leave a message that would survive him I figured that Gary must have anticipated his death. This meant that either he did commit suicide through a chemically induced heart attack, or he knew that his life was threatened by someone else. I would have to tread cautiously.

I arrived at the factory and was surprised that some of the storage space had been converted into a studio and a small apartment. This had been done very recently (I had visited Gary two weeks earlier and had not noticed these alterations). The space seemed to me to be renovated to my tastes. It was painted blue, a colour Gary disliked, and I loved. There was a message painted in small neat letters on the back of the studio door: "KWS 1520"

KWS was the local radio station. I tuned in the next day at 3: 15pm, (the starting time for the daily quiz). I had heard the quiz before. The DJ was, as usual, happy to give clues to the answers for the first 15 questions. At 3:20 the DJ said 'you are now on your own -we are now entering the clue free zone'. I took this to mean that I could move into the apartment without interfering with the message which Gary had left me.

I decided that for the moment that I would not move into the apartment Gary had thoughtfully provided for me, until I had a handle on Gary's apparent knowledge of his death. If someone else was responsible for the death of my friend I would find and expose them, for sure!

Late on Saturday, when I had finished with my last patient, I was finally able to get to the factory and play Da Vinci code with Gary. I wondered what he was trying to say through code which he couldn't have told me directly? It was strange that I thought of the Da Vinci code: a book Gary would never have read, and yet I found a copy lying on a work bench.

I spent a bit of time wandering around the factory taking in the ambience. Nothing seemed to be talking to me. I returned to the book. In flicking through to see if any notations had been made I found a two playing cards: a king and a joker. An "X" was inscribed on the face of the king, and "11.4" on back next to the 'Jim Beam' logo. The joker was from a different pack: just a plain red pattern, with no inscriptions..

Gary clearly thought that I would be able to 'read' this message, he used beat me at almost everything. I was beginning to believe he would continue his winning streak even though he was dead. I retired to my studio to make a coffee and think.

I woke well into the night, surprised that I had fallen asleep. However, I now had a thought. In my earlier tour of the factory I had seen a Bible in a bookcase in the Lab. This was not like Gary either, but it helped me break the code: King - 'Jim Beam' (James) the King James' version of the bible, 'X': the tenth book, 11th chapter, fourth verse. I rushed out of the studio to Gary's office and over to the bookshelf. I opened the bible at Samuel 2, 11. Verse 4 started the story of how David seduced Bathsheba. That didn't leave me any the wiser, and a quick examination of the book yielded nothing out of the ordinary. Back to the bookshelf. I saw nothing obvious so I tried again but now with much greater care.

On the second search of the office I found a CD. Bingo! It was called 'Wild Card/A Word From the Wise' by Pennywise. Now I knew what the joker meant: a joker was a wild card in many card games, and "word from the wise" was clearly a reference to the wisdom of David in the bible story. I opened the case, and pulled out the CD, it was a little sticky and smelt somewhat like pine nuts. On turning it over I saw that Gary had written the simple word 'enjoy'.

I felt a little let down. Surely Gary hadn't gone to all this trouble to tell me to enjoy his gift of the factory? The message certainly wasn't referring to the CD! It was too sticky to play. I decided it was time to go home, so I locked up and left. The whole affair had left me quite tired, even though I'd had a nap, I was further frustrated at having to stop for petrol. I really should be better organised.

The service station was quite empty at 1 am. The attendant was a pretty brunette who looked disengaged. She displayed studied indifference as I walked up to pay. Clearly I was intruding into her boredom (this was the reaction I normally received from women).

She drawled '$20 please'.

As she looked up to take the proffered note, she seemed to sniff the air, and quite suddenly her lacklustre air was replaced by colour. She just lit up, like those old movies which start in black and white and then turn to colour after the credits.

She sat up straight, tidied her clothing and pulled her shoulders back enough to display her perky mannequin sized breasts.

She looked hungrily at me as she parted and wet her lips. Her lack of interest melted. She boldly took me in, 5' 10" lean and muscular (for a nerd). Blondie/brown hair. Her eyes drank my body. She nodded slowly as her look flowed smoothly from head to toe and back again.

Ignoring my attempt at payment, she turned off the service station lights, flicked on the electronic locks and said, "Please, you look so strong, could you please help me move some boxes in the back?"

"Sure" I said, a little puzzled at this turn of events.

I followed her into the storeroom. I liked the way her arse swung, not exaggerated like a catwalk model, but just enough so that her uniform miniskirt clung slightly on each buttock showing a glimpse of high thigh.

As I followed her through the storeroom door, I though I was being attacked, maybe mugged, but this thought was soon dispelled by her urgent cries of "fuck me, please fuck me NOW!"

She reached past me to lock the door and turned on the light, I could feel the taut tips of her breasts press into my chest. "You will fuck me, please!"

She stepped back, and slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. She held my gaze as she shrugged the garment off her shoulders, and then hooked her thumbs, under her uniform mini-skirt and into the elastic of her panties and thrust them down her legs. Instead of high stepping out of them she turned away from me and bent down, driving her panties to her ankles showing me her smooth firm arse. She looked over her shoulder at me with a wicked smile. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I fully expected some hunk to step out from behind me, push me aside, and take the prize, but there was no one behind me, and the prize looked like it was mine.

"Fuck me!" she pleaded as she swivelled round and reached for the waistband of my trousers, she deftly and quickly worked her way through my clothing releasing my penis, which she then boldly grasped.

She hooked her foot around my heel and pushed me off balance into a pile of empty boxes which slowly crumpled. Before I had stopped falling she had followed me, still holding my penis firmly as if her life depended on it. She scattered the boxes which hadn't been crushed as she threw her dripping wet pussy onto my penis. I felt the heat of her slide down my shaft.

This was happening so quickly it was surreal: almost as if I was removed from my body. Whilst my penis was fully involved in the experience, I felt a little emasculated by the passive role I seemed to have been assigned. I watched as she ripped of her bra, pinching her nipples as she continued to ride my shaft.

Her commitment to her own pleasure was awesome, I began to share some of her urgency. She dropped her hands from her breasts to my hips to give herself greater leverage.

Her breasts were perfectly formed, inverted question marks, her nipples rock hard and protruding ½" I watching them jiggle with her gyrations: they were too firm to swing.

I reached up to her breasts, touching them lightly; marvelling at their firmness and colour. They were evenly tanned with dark brown areolas. They felt so good, I massaged them, pushing my thumbs into her breasts just below her nipples. Excited as she was, this elicited a groan to reward my efforts.

"Touch me, Do it to me. More. Don't stop. Yes. Yes. Yes" she was becoming louder.

She was both swinging backwards and forwards on my shaft, but at the end of each swing she was lifting her arse, almost disengaging my cock before slamming back down for the next swing. The tempo of her movements indicated she was close to climax.

I dropped my hands from her breasts to her stomach, and lightly grazed my nails across her abdomen, slowly circling, she clasped my hands and held them to her stomach, as she came, "Don't stop. Yes. Yes. Yes Ohh. Oh! O!!!"

I found the feeling of her juices running down my shaft so erotic , that I joined her, delivering a "haven't had a fuck in a long time"-quantity of cream so forcefully into her snatch that she groaned again as she felt the impact of my pent-up load.

Even though she had climaxed she continued to ride my cock, but more gently and becoming slower. Eventually she stopped moving altogether. She continued to flex her pussy muscles. My prick liked this, and happily stayed hard. Finally she looked into my eyes.

"Hi I'm Bridget, I'm sorry that was a bit quick, but you are SOOO sexy I just felt compelled to feel you inside me. It's so strange, I have never done this sort of thing before, I've never been so brazen, but I'm sure this happens to you all the time. You really are irresistible" and with this she added a rotary movement of her arse.

Let me tell you: I am Mr Average; even Mr Sub-Average. There is no way that women throw themselves at me, but if she believed it, who was I to disillusion her?

"Hi I'm Karl"

I took the opportunity to slide my hands, from where she still held them on her stomach to circle and clasp her arse. It was as firm as it looked.

Bridget reached down and unbuttoned my shirt sliding it off my shoulders making umming sounds as her hands brushed my chest and shoulders. I was clearly still turning her on.

"You have such a beautiful body Karl, I could ride it all night"

"Please do" I responded with much more bravado than I felt.

She bent over and kissed me, she didn't push her tongue into my mouth (I hate that) instead she moistened my lips with the tip of her tongue before she drew my bottom lip into her mouth and gently sucked it.

The feeling was sensational. It bypassed my brain and went straight to my cock. When she felt my cock twitch her circular motions speeded up a little, as she ran her tongue lightly on the inside of my lip, once again sucking gently.

This was so erotic and tender, I moved my hands from her arse to her back to give her a massage. Direct sexual contact seemed to cheapen the pure feeling that I was experiencing.

I cannot describe the pleasure her kissing was giving me. While she continued kissing her fingers cupped my face and her thumbs covered my eyes, she ran her thumps lightly around my eye sockets. I remembered that my mum used to do this to get me to sleep and I had not realised how sexually stimulating it was. I really had to control myself. I was about to come again with a kiss and an eye rub, I guess it shows you how incredibly pleasant it was. This was some lover: she certainly knew how to please a man.

Bridget disengaged from the kiss. As she straightened my hands fell from her back. She clasped them.

"Do this to me," she said, "I liked it before."

She rehearsed my hands in brushing from her stomach to her breasts, circling the nipple, then back to her stomach.

I repeated the movement lightly and independently, as her hands fell to my stomach. I loved doing this to previous lovers because of the goosebumps that flowed in the wake of my hands.

Bridget clearly enjoyed this too, her breasts were covered in goosebumps. Her nipples we so hard the little bumps showed. Whenever I pleased her, her arse marginally increased its tempo. This slow fucking was absolutely magic.

Bridget brushed my stomach, and hit an erogenous zone. Her other hand dropped behind her arse brushing the inside of my thigh. This was incredible. She had found another erogenous zone, one I didn't know I had: it was as if she knew where to look.

The feeling was unimaginable, my prick was being muscularly massaged and rotated on. Two erogenous zones were being worked, and I was really turned on by the effect I was having on her breasts.

Bridget felt my high sexual tension through my prick. I felt that if it got any harder it would probably burst. She groaned gently as she started to come again. She didn't increase her tempo this time but maintained the slow gyration and muscle flexing.

The look on her face was superb, a mix of pain and pleasure, with the pleasure clearly winning. She maintained that look while she milked sexual pleasure from her body, and mine.

She had been coming now for almost two minutes and showed no indication of stopping. The grunts of pleasure were interspersed with "Yes. Yes. Yes Ohh. Oh!"

That was it for me. I joined her with another volcano-like eruption. She managed to extend the pleasure of my coming for ages with her steady relentless squeezing and gyrations.

After what seemed like 15 minutes, but was obviously less, we both collapsed. Her head fell on my chest. She nibbled my neck as I caressed her back. She stayed mounted on my shaft, like a limpet, just squeezing occasionally to keep me stiff enough to stay in. I hated to imagine this stopping.

I was amazed at her ability to please me sexually in everything she did. In fact more than please which sounds passive, she was the Mistress of sexuality, driving from one erotic sensation, which alone would be enough, to another. She had not only read the book on how to please me sexually, she had written it.

There suddenly was a banging at the locked door of the service station. We sprang apart, an event which seemed impossible just seconds before. Brigit grabbed her shirt from the crushed boxes and quickly buttoned it before she left the store, her breasts were so firm she didn't need her bra..

As the door swung too, a corner of a crushed box caught underneath it and held it ajar, I glimpsed a police cruiser, and a burly officer at the door.

Brigit walked calmly to the kiosk flicked on the lights and flicked the electronic lock.

The policeman entered.

"Hey Bridget, you OK?" he shouted from the door.

"Yes fine, Joe. I was taken short and have been sitting on the toilet. I thought it would be better to make the station look closed rather than unattended."

"That's fine Bridget, I thought you might be in trouble."

"What's with the car by the pumps?" he talked now. He had walked to the kiosk.

"Oh, he filled up, then discovered he'd lost his wallet, so he went back to see if he could find it. He'll be back soon I expect."

"No worries, Bridget if you're OK its fine." he said as he turned to walk out of the door.

"Hey!" said Bridget, and as he turned around she threw a chocolate bar at him. at the same time ringing up the till for the sale and paying with her own money.

"Thank you for being concerned about me Joe, I appreciate it."

Joe smiled as he walked out to the cruiser chewing on his bar.

Bridget walked out of the kiosk into the storeroom.

"Can we do this again?" she asked as she stepped into her panties, and picked up her bra.

"Sure" I said.

"I finish at 8.00 pm tomorrow night. You could give me a lift to my flat if you like. It will save the bus" she tried to keep her voice light, as if it was not important to her.

She was not a very good actor. Still, you can't be good at everything. Sex is enough!

I had reassembled my clothing as she was speaking and looked almost respectable.

After rooting for over an hour, well not merely rooting but having the best sex ever, I strangely felt embarrassed. The best I could do before I left was to kiss her lightly on the forehead. I had to escape and think.

It all came to me driving home. I was no super stud. To get women to notice me I generally had to hit them over the head with a chunk of wood, so Gary's message of 'Enjoy' on the sticky CD and the biblical text about the seduction of Bathsheba took on a new meaning. Maybe the stickiness was an aphrodisiac? That would match Gary's aim of making people appear less foolish. 'Foolish' certainly would not be a term I would use to describe someone who was fucking my brains out.

I sniffed my fingers, they still smelt a little of pine nuts. I resolved to test my theory on my new neighbour. As soon as I got home.