Candid Confessions of a Shameless Sexaholic...Part One: Just What The Doctor Ordered (3 page)

As I licked and
sucked, I felt Matt’s hand sliding down my back and over my bum cheeks, He
pulled my skirt up, then slipped his fingers inside my panties. Then I felt his
fingers rubbing along my pussy and sliding into the moist interior. For a few
minutes, I was lost in the moment, focusing only on giving and receiving
pleasure. Then I realized that the car was stopping. I looked up to see that
Matt had pulled up in a car park near a viewing point  - a quiet oasis of green
in the middle of the city, overlooking the ocean. There were one or two other
cars around, but the car park was big enough for us to have a corner all to
ourselves.

Matt gently
pushed me back into my seat, then reached down for the seat lever, flipping my
seat back almost to the horizontal. By an unspoken agreement, we both stripped
off our clothes quickly – there was no time for messing about with foreplay and
all that crap - giving any passers by a glimpse of two naked humans ready and
desperate for sex. I didn’t have to wait long. As I leaned back in my seat,
Matt towered over me, caressing my body with gently kisses from by breasts to
my thighs and back again. Then I felt his weight against my body as his flesh
met mine. His rigid cock probed against my thighs, searching for the ultimate
destination, and then he was inside me. The entry was smooth and electric,
sending that familiar wave of pleasure pulsing deep within me.

‘Angel, you are
so sexy,’ he whispered. I wasn’t about to disagree with him, but quite frankly,
I was past the talking stage. This was just a lunch hour quickie, after all.

‘Fuck me,’ I
said. Yes, I know it’s not very original, but you don’t want any
misunderstandings on these important points.

There was no
misunderstanding. Matt fucked me good and proper, the sensations of pleasure
rippling deeper and deeper through my body as he rode me like a cowboy mounting
a bucking bronco. There is something raw and sensual about sex in a car, like
being a naughty teenager all over again. I spread my legs wider, one knee up
against the window, the other pushing against the driver’s seat. I felt Matt
deeper and deeper inside me, and soon I was rushing to a glorious climax.

There was no
time for recovery. Matt just kept on going, like a man with a mission. That was
just fine with me. Soon I was climaxing again, digging my fingernails into his
back as the pleasure spread through me. Then it was Matt’s turn. I felt his
thrusting become more urgent, the expression on his face become more intent.
Then his body quivered and he tensed all over as his man seed spurted deep
within me.

Oh, I love that
feeling! Sex the way it is meant to be. Natural and complete. I felt like a
whole woman, as if my destiny had been fulfilled in that moment. Matt kissed me
and then pulled away. There wasn’t going to be time to get anything to eat now.
We would have to clean ourselves up and head straight back to the studio. But
that was OK....I prefer man meat for lunch, anyway. It’s my favorite dish.

When I got back to the office later than
afternoon, I was feeling pretty good. The session had gone well once the power
came back on, and everyone was pleased with the photos. And I had squeezed in a
fuck without getting fired. Not a bad day, whichever way you looked at it.

Vanessa called
me into her office to discuss the photos, pointing out what she liked, and what
she wanted done differently next time. But overall, she was cool with the whole
thing. As I was about to leave the room, she said:

‘Oh, one more
thing. I can’t make lunch with Brad tomorrow after all. I will be tied up with
our lawyers for most of the day, and they don’t take no for an answer. So I
suggested to Brad that you should go to lunch with him instead.’

‘Me? Why me?’

Vanessa gave me
a patient look. ‘You are our new Assistant Editor, remember. You will be
working with Brad a lot, so this is a good chance for you to get to know each
other.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘He will pick
you up outside the office at 12.30. Don’t be late...he expects people to be
punctual.’

‘Right. No worries.

Back in my
cubicle, I read through the article Vanessa had given me earlier. All good
advice, and very professional. This guy was clearly a top professional, and
people listened to what he said. But I wondered what on earth I would discuss
with a serious expert on sex and relationships. I had plenty of experience on
the sex side of things, sure, but I wasn’t sure if that was the kind of thing
we should be discussing in a posh restaurant. Hmmm. I would just try to look
cute and innocent, and play it by ear.

Then my phone
rang. I picked it up, and said my name. I recognized the deep and silky voice
at once.

‘I hear we have
date for lunch tomorrow.’

I dropped the phone, and had to scramble
to find it and pick it up. ‘Hello...you still there? Sorry...er...yes. So I
hear.’

Once again my
voice came out in a frantic squeak. Great. I sounded like a total dickhead. I
took a deep breath, focused, and managed to bring down my voice to a level
where people could hear it, as well as dogs.

‘I’m looking
forward to it.’

‘So am I. If you
are as beautiful as you sound, it really will be a pleasure.’

I spluttered
incoherently. I think I might have gurgled. ‘Lovely.’

‘I’ll pick you
up at 12.30. Please don’t be late, as I have a TV interview at three o’clock. I
want to make the most of the time we have together. See you then.’

And he was gone.
No wonder they called him an expert on relationships. I’d only spoken a few
words to him, and he already had me quivering like a schoolgirl with a crush. I
hadn’t even met him yet.

I was both
nervous and excited about our lunch date – I mean lunch appointment – the next
day. I felt that it was going to be quite an experience.

***

My flat mate Ellen is no prude. I mean,
I have seen her get through her fair share of men since we have been sharing an
apartment together. She is the kind of woman who looks a little tomboyish on
the outside, but is all woman on the inside. She is trying to break through the
glass ceiling at work, so she deliberately tones down her femininity. She wears
her hair cut short, and dresses in pants and shirts like a man. But it’s all a
waste of time, because she still looks dead sexy, and every man she meets wants
to fuck her brains out. And if she finds the right guy, she is happy to
co-operate in that kind of joint venture. I mean, I should know. Her bedroom
backs onto mine, and I’ve been kept awake many a night by the sound of her
screaming while the headboard of her bed bangs against the wall. Then again, it
works both ways, so I suppose I can’t complain.

But I’m getting
off the point. What I was about to say is that when I updated her on my latest
exploits that evening, she was a little shocked.

‘You had sex
with two guys in 24 hours? That is pretty frantic, even by your standards.’

Oh, if only she
knew! In my college years, that would have been a slow day. But I’m getting
older now, past 22 and heading for the next one. Scary! But anyway, I felt
obliged to defend myself.

‘There’s nothing
wrong with having a healthy sex life. It is completely normal.’

Ellen curled her
legs up on the sofa and sipped at her red wine. ‘Normal for you, maybe, but not
normal for the rest of the human race. You really need to slow down a bit.’

‘I am sure that one day, I will meet
some really great guy, and then I will settle down. But until I do, I don’t see
any harm in playing the field. It’s what being single is all about.’

‘Playing the
field? Is that what you call it? Playing the planet more like. Honestly, Angel,
I think you have a real problem.’

Now I was really
hurt. ‘What do you mean?’ I demanded.

Ellen gave me
her caring big sister look. ‘I think maybe you should get some help.’

‘Help for what?’

‘Sex addiction.’

I stared at her
in amazement. ‘You think I am a sex addict?’

She didn’t say
anything. She didn’t need to. We both knew the answer. I went to my room and
sulked for the rest of the evening. Sometimes the truth hurts just a bit too
much.

The next day, I just about managed to
burst through the revolving doors of our office dead on 12.30, and spilled out
into the street. I looked around anxiously for a car that might belong to Dr.
King, but couldn’t see one. The only two cars immediately outside the office
were a taxi and a Bentley, which obviously belonged to some stinking rich git.

As I peered up
the street looking for a likely vehicle, the Bentley pulled alongside me. The
window wound down noiselessly and a face that I recognized as my lunch date
smiled up at me.

‘You must be
Angel...hop in!’

A Bentley? What
kind of a doctor drives a Bentley? There was more to this guy than I had first
suspected, it seemed. I got into the car and belted up.

‘Wow, nice car,’
I said. ‘I’m surprised you don’t have a chauffeur!’

‘It’s his day
off,’ came the reply, making me feel like a right idiot.

‘Oh, sorry Dr.
King.’

Dr. King looked
at me and smiled. ‘Just kidding. Chauffers are not my style. I always drive
myself. And please call me Brad.’

Well at least he
wasn’t some kind of a big prick. Not that there is anything wrong with the
concept of a big prick myself, of course. We chatted idly until we got to the
restaurant, which was by far the poshest I had ever been in. I started to
panic. I wouldn’t have any idea what to order, or what spoon to use, or any of
that stuff. But as it turned out, Brad made it easy. I think he was used to
lunching with people who were a bit out of their depth, and he took care of the
ordering, and I just followed his lead in everything else.

The restaurant
staff knew him by name, and we had no difficulty in securing a table, even
though the restaurant was full, and there were people waiting to be seated.
After a couple of glasses of wine, I relaxed a good deal, and started to enjoy
myself.

I had dressed
more conservatively than usual that day, looking very much the elegant
lady...or at least, as close as I was likely to get. But I still felt like a
pauper sitting across the table from Brad. That guy just oozed the concept of
money and success without even meaning to. I doubt if he got any change from
four thousands bucks for his suit, and his shirt and tie probably weren’t much
cheaper.

But it was his
looks that really caught your attention. And when I say ‘your attention,’ what
I mean is the attention of every other female in the restaurant. He was the
archetypal tall, dark handsome stranger. I could feel envious looks burning
into my back from other women in the room who were stuck with regular dudes. If
he had stood up at the moment and said ‘anyone want to suck my dick?’ I reckon
at least ten women would have volunteered on the spot. But of course, that
wasn’t his style...far from it.

‘So tell me
about yourself,’ he said as we tucked into some starter that tasted delicious,
whatever the fuck it was. I gave him a brief run down, conveniently omitting
nearly all of the men in my history, and focusing on my other achievements.
That is, a gymastics trophy I won when I was fourteen (I could probably ace
that now - my gymnastic abilities have improved a lot) and scraping a pass in
my degree.

In return, he
told me about his background. I discovered that he was not only a medical
doctor, but also a qualified psychologist. He had enough letters after his name
to play Scrabble with, and his private clinics were so successful that he could
afford to take time out to work with the media, too. Now he was well on his way
to becoming a celebrity doctor. I’ve never been much of a TV watcher, so I
didn’t recognize him from his TV appearances, but halfway through the meal, a
rather shy young lady came up and asked him for his autograph. So he wasn’t
bullshitting....it was all true!

When she was
gone, Brad leaned forward across the table and smiled. ‘Well, that’s enough
about us. Now let’s get down to business. We need to start planning our
articles for the next few issues. Do you have any ideas?’

Ideas? Nobody told
me I was supposed to have ideas. My mind started racing, but only in pointless
circles. I tried to concentrate. Ideas were not my strong point.

‘Yes, I have
been working on some ideas,’ I lied. Lying comes easily to me, after years of
lying to my mother about the squeaking bed spring noises she thought she had
heard in the night.

‘I thought we
could work together on some articles about....’ my mind was still blank. I
needed something to do with sex and relationships...I remembered my
conversation with Ellen the night before.

‘...about sex
addiction!’ I said triumphantly.

Brad looked a
little taken aback, but only for a moment, then he regained his composure.

‘That’s an
interesting idea,’ he said. ‘It’s certainly something we haven’t covered
before. But is it something that is really of concern to young women today...to
the readers of your magazine?’