“Can’t you understand Doc, it’s not a mental thing ... well it’s physical, you know,” whined Gina Sillitoe, staring at her hands interwoven in her lap. Doctor Henrik Roscoe peered at her over his specs perched perilously close to falling off his red, bulbous, pock marked nose. The attractive blonde was one of his favourite patients, one of the few bright spots of his otherwise unexciting rounds of dreary and depressing women in trauma. Her family wealth, local standing and prestige businesses in town made her a plum client, but Gina was such a bright spark he would have helped her if she was penniless. Her big tits always sparked his imagination. Her bright blue eyes, pleasing smile and carefully prepared hair made quite a picture in his waiting room amongst the worn-out, downtrodden females that beat a path to his surgery. The mention of the word ‘physical’ aroused him even more this time. What will her pussy be like? he wondered and wished he was more than just a mind specialist. How could he engineer an examination of her body without arousing too much suspicion, he wondered? “I’m sure if you channel your thoughts correctly Gina, you will be able to overcome this desire to be physical. Let’s face it. You know and have known for many months now that you will not be able to carry out a normal life in terms of your netball and tennis. There are ways of playing sports from a wheel chair but every time I have mentioned it, you have dismissed the idea,” he told her. “It isn’t sport Doctor Roscoe. Look - to put it bluntly, it’s sex, I need sex,” Gina said quietly, glancing at him with short sharp looks. I need a fucking great hard dick up my pussy - and soon or I’ll go mad, she meant to say but didn’t.
She looked away from him, liking the old fellow very much, but still embarrassed about discussing the intimate problem haunting her. At 28 years old and once the centre of attraction in clubs both sporting and social, she had had the pick of a fuck athlete from a host of admirers. The fact that her mobility was now totally useless below her waist made her a social outcast amongst the materialistic bunch of testosterone charged men she once craved, especially that bastard Brad Wright. She loved to fuck, was highly sexed and willing to try any ideas to achieve better orgasms than the previous one. How could the seventy year old man in front of her know how her pussy felt. She knew how it felt. Hot, wet, hairy and empty apart from the various inanimate objects she thrust in and masturbated with. “That is something I can’t help you with my dear,” said the doctor, wishing that he could.
How he would like to feel between her thighs, which would never achieve the strength and shape they had before her car accident. Even a fumble down her tee-shirt to hold and caress those wonderfully round, big nippled bosoms would be nice. Gina never wore a brassiere - he noticed to his delight, when she first met him during the initial therapies. To get an erection was beyond him now – it just didn’t seem to work, however he tried to stimulate his shrivelled old dick. Viagra had not been medically suitable for him so he and wife Eva had long since stopped fucking, although they both enjoyed various stimulation from active and expert hands. Eva’s sixty eight year old breasts were rather long and flabby now, but the doctor loved their mature size and warmth. Her fanny was always welcoming, although needing assistance from friendly Mr KY as they childishly referred to the industrial size tube of lubricant.
Henrik’s secretary buzzed him and he excused himself to deal with something urgent in the outer office. As he left his consulting room, he could not prevent Donal, his Irish Wolfhound from trotting through from the outer office. Gina greeted the dog as she usually did, being well used to it’s presence as the doctor ran his consultation business from his huge, ancient and scruffy eccentric suburban house. “It’s OK Doctor. He will be alright for a moment,” she called assuredly. She swivelled her chair to greet Donal, fussing over his sharply defined head and rubbing his chest which she knew he liked. Her big, unfettered tits rolled as her arms stroked the hound and then she felt the familiar tingle as her nipples rose as she rubbed his lean strong frame. Hang on Gina this is a dog, but yes - a living being, but an animal and you’re getting leery. God you’re getting desperate. Stop it, she chuckled inside.
Suddenly Donal did something he had never done with her. His big wet nose dived deep into her crotch and he sniffed into that warm vee formed between her legs. As usual she wore a close fitting pair of jogging bottoms, more used on perfectly formed bodies – in the gym. They were simple, comfortable and suited her permanently seated position – and just as importantly for her obvious vanity, they hid the useless things that hung from her hips. Taken aback by the assault on her private area initially, Gina let him snuffle as she realised how nice it was to have something guided not by her own hand rutting about in her crotch and then realising the folly of her thoughts, she gathered her senses together and tried to push the big dog’s snout away. Dogs always wanted to sniff up skirts and trousers, be they on male or female wearers. Donal was somehow different on this particular day.
He was strong and keen, his long curled tail wagged incessantly – he was certainly keen on something down there and it dawned on the stricken girl that she had not washed her cunt that morning. Her Dad was on a golfing holiday, her Mum had gone out early to catch the sales and the carer hadn’t turned up to do the daily chores for Gina and so she had slept in, having to rush from her bed in her specially adapted ground floor annexe at her parent’s palatial home, to make the appointment. She had driven fast in her adapted car to the doctor’s residence for her consultation. The old man’s words had been invaluable in her rehabilitation and she looked forward to the chats and analysis, but today she had been set on pressing her physical needs to him. Donal was pressing his needs to sniff at her panty gusset right now and he was proving difficult to shove away.
Gina gave a mighty heave and managed to shove the hound away and as he turned and regrouped in a friendly manner, she spotted his big balls tight between his athletic legs. Like a blinding light – it hit her. The dog is a big male, got superb balls, wants to eat my cunt and is strong. He’s got a cock too! What if I got a dog? The question whirled through her brain – it was Eureka time in the girl Sillitoe, but dare she? When Donal resumed his snuffling, she opened her wasted thighs, checked the door was still closed and let him sniff happily, while she manoeuvred him round so that she could investigate his undercarriage. I can push him away quickly if the Doc comes back in. Still got my sports reflexes, she thought. Donal’s backbone was much higher than her knees and she could nearly slide them under his torso. She felt under his sinuous belly and found the hairy bulge of his sheath. Fearfully Gina felt it, all the time glancing from Donal’s seemingly contented face to the door and to what she held in her fist.
It felt solid, hairy, heavy and hot, but she knew nothing about canine genitals. However Gina did know how to stroke a man’s crotch and daringly she tried this approach. It was instinctive somehow - as if she knew the next step. Her hand was too far back initially and when she slid it forward and backwards, she was stunned to find that soon a couple of inches of the dog’s cock emerged. She leaned precariously over her chair, not wanting to terminate Donal’s shoving snout and found she could see his penis. It was a sort of angry pink purple colour with a pointed end. Gina stroked more vigorously, tempting extra length out and soon she had over six inches of sticky hard dog dick in her hand. Oh my God, it’s as big as a fella’s, she mused. In trying to see more and get two hands at him, she leaned further outwards, way out from normal and soon the cleverly engineered wheel chair overbalanced and she crashed to the floor. Donal yelped and trotted away at the sound, but soon came back to the stricken woman. Her adrenaline pumping like it hadn’t for many a month, Gina gazed up at his undercarriage, thinking that Henrik would come charging in any minute after the crash. Donal’s bright beacon-like cock waggled ridiculously, but gradually subsiding under his shaggy grey torso as he trotted around, while Gina hauled herself from the confines of the chair frame. Laying free but helpless on the floor, she glanced quickly at the door, but nothing seemed to have disturbed the quiet atmosphere, so tentatively she again reached for Donal’s cock, thrilled at the freedom and to be able to handle a living penis once more.
Minutes later, as quick as he could extract himself from the second telephone call, his nurse taking a toilet break, Dr Roscoe opened the enormous leather panelled door into the cushioned and highly upholstered consulting room, worried after hearing her crash and stood dumbfounded for a moment at the scene before him. Nurse Terri Bulstrode noticing his pause at the door on her return to her desk - was following him, but having glanced into his inner sanctum, he managed to convince her that all was well and he could handle it, pressing his fingers to his lips to indicate silence. He shut and locked the door quietly and stood on the rich Afghan rug, watching the lewd antics across the big room.
.... There is more of this story ...