A Little Simulation

“So, Mr. and Mrs. Flatberry…” Darnell Holmes eyed the mismatched white couple sitting across the desk from him. “How may I help you?” The gaunt fiftyish-looking man to his right, dressed in a red plaid blazer and wearing thick bifocals, said, “Well, Dr. Holmes…” He paused and blinked at Darnell through half-inch glass. “You are a doctor, aren’t you?” “That is correct,” Darnell said. “I hold a Ph.D. in psychology from USC.” The man gulped and hooked a finger behind the knot of his matching red plaid bowtie. “I-I’m sorry. I knew you were a marriage counselor, but…” Darnell gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s quite all right. Not all marriage counselors are doctors of psychology. I can understand your confusion.” Mrs. Flatberry was quite a looker, Darnell thought. Long blonde hair. White wrap-around dress with thin shoulder loops. A gold brocade belt cinched around a slender waist. Red high-heels with spider-web strapping that circled up her ankles and calves and stopped an inch or so below her knees. And those legs—bare to mid thigh, long and tanned. They looked like the pathway to Nirvana. She wasn’t wearing stockings or pantyhose, didn’t need to. Quite the looker indeed, Darnell mused, watching her cross one shapely leg over the other. “The reason we’re here,” Flatberry said, “is Natalie and me, well, we’ve been having some problems, I guess you’d say.” Darnell leaned forward in his black leather executive chair and folded his hands together on the desk. “Oh? What kind of problems?” Flatberry gulped again. He looked like an anorexic Don Knotts, Darnell thought, with that huge goiter of an Adam’s apple sticking out of his neck. And those Coke-bottle eyeglasses! They almost made Darnell’s own eyes water. “Sexual problems, I guess you’d say,” Flatberry said. Mrs. Flatberry nervously smoothed her palm over her dress on her upper thigh. Darnell had to drag his eyes away. “I see,” he said. “Is there some specific problem?” Flatberry squirmed in his chair. “What do you mean?” “Like erectile dysfunction, for example, or premature ejaculation?” “I don’t know what those things are,” Flatberry said. God! Darnell thought. Was he going to have to spell things out to this rube like an elementary school teacher with a primer? The man was no spring chicken. His wife looked at least twenty-five years younger, mid-twenties at most. A prime piece of white meat. Darnell didn’t get many white couples using his counseling service. When it came to spilling one’s guts about such private matters as fucking, he found most folks tended to stay within their own color. “We can get back to that in a minute,” he said. “Do you mind my asking how you came to book an appointment with my office?” “It was Natalie,” Flatberry said. “Oh?” Darnell looked at the woman. Her cheeks bloomed an attractive shade of pink that melded beautifully with her long honey-blonde hair. God, the way that dress hugged those luscious curves, it left an impressive ski slope of cleavage between two very respectable breasts. Fuck, look at that! Her nips were hard as blueberries. Darnell turned his eyes back to Flatberry, trying to will his boner down. “How so?” he asked. “Natalie got your name from our pool boy.” Flatberry’s face turned red. He gulped again and clawed a scrawny finger behind the bowtie knot around his skinny chicken neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say boy.” This guy was Ankara escort priceless. “I’m sure you didn’t,” Darnell said. “Anyway,” Flatberry said, “I guess Dwayne sensed we were having…problems, so he gave Natalie your name.” Dwayne? Okay, now things were getting clearer. Dwayne was one of Darnell’s old homies from the hood. They had smoked a little weed together, skanked around a bit in their younger days, before Darnell turned respectable. Darnell had weaned Dwayne off the pipe a few years back and floated him a small loan to start a swimming-pool maintenance business. “It’s nice to get referrals,” Darnell said. “Now where were we? Oh yes. Sexual problems. May I ask how long the two of you have been married?” “A little over a year,” Flatberry said. “Natalie’s father was one of my business associates.” His eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde. “Until he died.” A tear welled in the woman’s eye. “I’m sorry,” Darnell said to her. “That must have been traumatic. My deepest condolences.” The woman nodded, dabbing her cheek with a tissue she had retrieved from her purse. “So, Mr. Flatberry, you took Mrs. Flatberry…” Darnell looked at the blonde again. “May I call you Natalie?” Another nod, this time accompanied by a shy smile. Darnell returned it. “Thank you. So you took Natalie under your wing, so to speak?” “That’s right,” Flatberry said. “She was too young to be left on her own. Besides, I love her. I’ve loved her ever since she was a little girl, when she used to sit on my lap at Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Fucking pervert, Darnell thought. The old coot probably couldn’t get it up anymore. No doubt that was why he was here. He looked like the type who could only spring a boner for little girls, and Natalie was far from that now. Maybe that was how Dwayne’s and the very ripe Mrs. Flatberry’s conversation had veered from mundane matters of algae and chlorine levels to more intimate tales of her marital woes. Maybe Dwayne was banging her! Maybe his sending them here was intended as further payback for the loan Darnell had spotted him. After all, Darnell hadn’t charged interest. “Very commendable,” Darnell said. “So, getting back to the matter at hand, we were trying to determine if there are any specific difficulties the two of you are having. Is it a frequency issue?” Flatberry squinted at Darnell through his magnifiers. “Frequency issue?” “Yes,” Darnell said. “Is there some dissatisfaction with the number of times you make love, say, in a week.” Flatberry squirmed in his chair. “Kind of.” Darnell waited for him to continue. “Well,” Flatberry said, “Natalie and I haven’t actually got around to consummating things yet.” Darnell’s jaw dropped. “You mean you haven’t—?” Flatberry shook his head, looking embarrassed. Darnell eyed the pretty wife again. Her cheeks had blossomed into a fresh shade of pink. How the hell to deal with this one? He returned his attention to Flatberry. “Have you engaged in any foreplay?” “Foreplay?” Flatberry said. “Yes. You know—kissing, fondling?” The man shrugged. “A little, I guess.” Darnell stood up and started around the desk. “Sometimes in situations like these, it helps to run a little simulation.” He leaned his legs back against the front of the desk, the couple a few feet away. “Simulation?” Flatberry said, looking wary. “Yes,” Darnell said. “Role-playing. Ankara escort bayan In specific situations.” “I ain’t much of an actor.” Darnell chuckled. “It’s not really acting. It’s more seeing how you react in a given situation.” Flatberry tugged a bony finger behind his bowtie knot again. “Well…I guess we could try it.” “Good,” Darnell said. “Why don’t we start with kissing? Pretend you and Mrs. Flatberry…” He smiled at the beautiful blonde. “I mean Natalie. Pretend you and Natalie are spending a romantic evening at home. Feelings are running high. You’re sitting in front of the fire, sipping champagne. The time is ripe for a kiss. Can you kiss Natalie for me, Mr. Flatberry?” The man looked at his wife. “Well…I suppose so.” Their chairs were almost touching. He only had to lean a little way. Natalie leaned, too, her cheeks pinking again. Flatberry closed his eyes and pecked her lips with a kiss The Flash would have been proud of. Darnell rubbed his chin, staring at them frankly. “Well, that was a kiss, I guess, in the strictest sense of the word.” “No good?” Flatberry said. Darnell shook his head, his lips clenched tight in a sympathetic smile. He pushed himself off from the desk. “Do you mind?” he said to Flatberry. He held out his hand to Natalie. “Wh-what are you going to do?” Flatberry said. “Just a little simulation.” “Well…okay.” Natalie took Darnell’s hand. With a shy smile she rose to her feet. “Sometimes close body contact helps,” Darnell said. He placed his right hand on the small of the woman’s back and drew her to him. She draped her arms lightly over his shoulders. “The duration of a kiss is important.” “Duration?” Flatberry said. “Yes. How long it lasts.” “Oh.” Darnell lowered his face to the woman’s. Damn! Her lips were soft and moist, like mashed potatoes with pan drippings. Her mouth tasted like strawberries, and her skin smelled like daisies in a summer breeze. His hand explored her back, moved up, found no bra. He pressed his lips harder to hers and felt the delicate tip of her tongue come out to play. His boner sprang to attention. Fuck, this chick was hot as a firecracker! He squeezed his tongue into her mouth, sliding his hand down her back and onto her tight round ass. Her little tongue swirled around his, nearly launching his erection through his pants. Clutching her ass with his right hand, he moved his left stealthily into the bodice of her dress, away from Flatberry’s view. He squeezed her breast gently, and her pelvis began to rotate in slow circles. A little mewl rose up from her throat, making her lips vibrate against his. “That’s three minutes,” Flatberry said. “How long is this duration thing supposed to last, anyway?” Darnell released Natalie’s breast and eased back, making sure she wasn’t exposed. Flatberry was waving his wrist in the air, showing Darnell his watch. “Three minutes is an appropriate length of time for a romantic kiss,” Darnell said, catching his breath. “I can change the oil in my Caddy in almost that,” Flatberry said “Yes, well…” Darnell sucked in air. “Automobile maintenance and making love to a woman are two entirely different matters.” “Kissing ain’t hardly making love,” Flatberry said. “You’re right,” Darnell said. “There’s much more.” Flatberry regarded him speculatively. “Like what?” “Well, there’s also tactile foreplay. Tactile Escort Ankara means—” “I know what tactile means,” Flatberry said. “Is that why you’re grabbing her butt?” Darnell had forgotten to remove his hand from the woman’s ass. Reluctantly, he did so now. “Yes, that’s part of it,” he said. “It’s important to touch and feel a woman’s body while you’re kissing her.” “Well, you were sure doing enough of that.” “Would you like me to end the simulation?” Darnell said. Natalie’s eyes shot over to her husband’s, disappointment registering on her face like fear. Flatberry said, “Well…I guess not.” “Good. Let’s continue, then.” Darnell held out his arms. “Mrs. Flatberry—Natalie?” The woman stepped toward him. “There are a number of erogenous zones on a woman’s body.” “Rogerous zones?” Flatberry said. “Ur-raw-juh-ness,” Darnell sounded out. “Oh.” “The neck, for example.” Darnell lowered his face and feathered his lips over the nook between the woman’s bare, slender shoulder and her aquiline jaw. She trembled in his arms as he licked slowly up the long smooth slope, all the way to her ear. “The ear is sensitive, too,” he said. He swirled his tongue in Natalie’s, then nipped at the lobe. The woman gasped, her trembles turning into a steady quiver. “And, of course, the lips,” Darnell said. He brought his face around and kissed her again, and was delighted when her little tongue squiggled into his mouth. “I already know about all them places,” Flatberry said, sounding perturbed. Darnell pulled his lips back. “Do you want me to continue?” he asked the man. Natalie looked at her husband wide-eyed, her head jerking up and down in quick little nods. “Well…I guess so,” Flatberry said. “A woman’s breasts are also highly erogenous,” Darnell said. He slid his left hand again into the bodice of Natalie’s dress. This time, rather than try to hide it, he kept a distance so Flatberry could see. He eased the breast from its silky white confines and let it spill into his hand. It was soft and warm and firm. When he stroked his thumb over the nipple, the woman’s eyes fluttered and she swooned. Darnell snaked his right arm around her to catch her, clutching her ass again. Her blue eyes opened to slivers and peered at him, smoky and sultry. He leaned down and kissed her again, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth while massaging her breast and ass. Natalie’s pelvis began to undulate against his cock. Darnell licked her lips and eased back. “And perhaps the most erogenous zone,” he said, “the vagina.” Still cupping her breast, he brought his right hand around from her ass to the front fold of her dress. Gazing into her eyes, he slid his hand up between her thighs, dragging the dress up with it. Darnell almost choked. Fuck, the bitch wasn’t wearing any panties! And her pussy was shaved! There wasn’t a lick of hair between his fingers and a very wet slit. He looked at Flatberry. “Can you see all right?” The skinny man nodded, his big eyes blinking behind his glasses. The goiter in his throat was gulping like a plug valve. Looking down between the white woman’s legs, Darnell slithered two thick black fingers up through her dainty pink folds. They came away lathered in girl-cream. “The labia—the pussy lips,” he clarified to Flatberry, “are very sensitive and a prime focus for sexual stimulation.” He ran his fingers up through the juicy crevice again. “But perhaps a woman’s most sensitive spot of all is”—he dragged one finger slowly to the top of Natalie’s slit—“her clitoris.” Natalie gasped and closed her eyes as Darnell pressed on the hard little button. “It is extremely sensitive to tactile manipulation.” He rubbed his finger in a small tight circle.